I Believe in Santa Claus, like I believe in love

So since I've been medicated since late August, I think I've been having problems enjoying the seasons. Halloween slipped away without the joy I normally feel, Thanksgiving didn't have the same chill, so i've been determined to enjoy Christmas. Music, specials, jingle bells, tinsel, the whole works. I'm forcing myself to drown in it.
My big pain is how I watch the Christmas specials and realize how much I've grown. I'm almost too old for Christmas. I'm almost grown up. And it kills me.
Now I know the economy is in the crapper, and my mom apologised last night for how lame our Christmas presants will be this year, because my dad was unemployed for six months. But I'm just happy my dad got a job last month. That was all I wanted.
I keep dreaming about toys, though. After Christmas Dance Friday, I went to my bestie Mim's house, and I dreamt of Build-a-Bear. That was my favorite place when I was little. Last night I dreamed about Barbies. I don't get me, but I guess I feel playful?
But my secret wish is for someone to tell me they love me. To go walking in the snow with someone I love too. But I'm just a romantic; of course I'd want that.
It's embarassing, but since my heart is back open, I want to find something new to fill the void.

Are we Human?

Tonight's the night.

I finally am going to a dance and have to deal with seeing Sam with another girl.

This is going to take all my nerve.

<3

Will your System Be alright when you dream of home tonight?
There is no message, where is she then?
Let me know if your heart's still beating.

Tonight will be the night that I will fall

Shit.
I hate the days before holiday breaks. They give us a crazy work load, which makes sense; they're teachers, this is what they do.
But I need this break so much. I'm losing my mind left and right. My history teacher caught me frantically being frantic in the halls twice last week. Fail.

But I realized that if I fail my Chem test Friday I'll have no choice but to drop the class. I failed one quiz already. It's pathetic. The grade is a disgrace. I didn't have nearly enough time for the quiz, and it's totally going to fucking drag down my grade for the fucking class.
But I burned the fucking grade off the quiz, and kept the paper for exam puposes. I like burning things.

I'm a bit buggy lately. Friday I'm going to a dance with Allen, who had been pursuing me since summer but has recently dropped chase. I figure it won't be awkward with him, he's a cool friend.

But this isn't at my school. It's at Allen's.
And I know for a fact Sam will be there.

Damn if I didn't think I had that problem licked.
He WILL be there, with his girlfriend, who he is clearly fucking senseless. Yes, vulgar language. But he is. They are.

I was so proud of myself last Friday when I successfully went on an ecursion to Wal Mart before the play (I ended up doing lights. I loved it.) with Sam and Teddy. I didn't fawn over Sam and had a great time on a simple shopping trip.
But Saturday I fell apart, and Sam's been dancing in my thoughts again.

He never liked me.
He's a manwhore.
Stop doing this to yourself.

I wish I could.

But what am I going to Friday?

I guess I better get a good dress. I have my red heels from the party two weeks ago.
Better knock him dead and remind him, yet again, what he's missing.

I think he knows he's making a big mistake with other girls, but he knows he can't have me. I'm not that easy.

One day, we'll end these mind games.
In about a week, I'll forget about Sam again.
Til then, I have a religion test and Spanish quiz tomorrow.

Damn.

I've Become What you could never be

Me (7:16:44 PM): Beeteedubs, since I feel easily less awkward asking, did you learn anythign juicy from Sam over the summer?
Marie (7:17:11 PM): eww no I deleted his phone number a long time ago
Marie (7:17:14 PM): sorry.
Me (7:17:37 PM): I mean, when you texted him
Marie (7:19:09 PM): oh well not really
Marie (7:19:16 PM): just that he's not a virgin




This made me feel so much better.

The question pricked at me for a long time, and it clarifies so much.
Considering the fact the weekend I first confessed my crush on him, he confessed he already heard from my friends I am a total prude...
I never stood a chance, because he only wants one thing anyway.

This is the perfect chink in his armor. He can no longer play perfect as far as I am concerned; his high and mighty religious piety is fake.

I'm better off than he is.

I can do this now.

See you when I see you, Sam. I'm headed for better days now.

Hell, I looked in the mirror today and felt pretty.

This is the catastrophic day I've been waiting for to turn everything around.

And I feel good.

If there's a prize for rotten judgement I guess I've already won that

I thought my heart had learned its lesson
It feels so good when you start out
My head is screaming get a grip, girl
Unless you're dying to cry your heart out
Oh

Sweetness

After a weekend like that with my crazy aunts, cousins, mom, and grandmother, I can't even claim I still feel depressed.

Just empty still.

He's gone, like I knew he would be. He's not him anymore.
I don't even want him back.

I just want someone new. Anyone new.
I want to meet someone different who can show me what it was like to feel like that.

That's what I miss most.

Look in the mirror and don't like what you see: you can find out firsthand what it's like to be me

Remember back in the days when you got to choose who you wanted to be, back when you were little?
Got to pick your personality by your favorite color, favorite outfit, favorite toy, and best friend?
The swing you liked most on your favorite playground was a personality trait in those Pre-Kindergarten days, and how well you treated the class pet attributed to your overall class image?
How choosing what you wanted to be when you grew up was a silly question, because it changed so often and was so far away; that was part of who you were too. And like when you picked the red crayon that changed your life for some time, you could chose who you would be.

Well, my point?

I think back then I messed up.

Please Forgive Me

Maybe one day I'll tell you how I feel and I'll be lying.

Maybe one day you'll tell me you've changed your heart, and I just won't care anymore.

Maybe one day I'll get what I need.

The only reason I'm still holding on to you is because the "someone better" who is waiting for me either got lost or just is a bit late in coming. Either way, until I find someone better, you're the best shot I have.

You're pretty. Talented. Witty. A dash nerdy.

I was able to let the other guy down with the old "I can't date yet" excuse, which is a partial truth, but when will I stop because I actually found a reason to date?

I'm so self-destructive.

But I can't tell Sam again. He's heard it once, and heard me try to explain that I ONLY want to be his friend, if he'd let me and if we could get rid of the awkwardness between us.

I only want to be his friend.

I only want to be his friend.

I only want to be his friend.

I only want to be his everything.

And I shouldn't. Everyone wants me to get over him, to heal, to find closure and move on.

The closure is not coming, we've gone too far.

So I made you laugh today. I want to see it.

School dance is Friday. I guess you won't be there now, but I wish you would be, just because I've seen me in my dress and accessories, and I look damn good, boy, and I know you'd notice.

If only we had time. More than twenty minutes, more than thirty on the phone,

maybe.

Please forgive me if I act a little strange/

for I know not what I do/

Feels like lightning running through my veins/

Everytime I look at you, Every time I look at you/

Help me out here, all my words are falling short/

there's so much I want to say/

want to tell you just how good it feels/

when you look at me that way, when you look at me that way.

Oh, and by the way,

I remember hearing your heartbeat.

You deserve much better than me.

I just got asked out.
By a guy I never actually have any sort of interest in AT ALL.

And I agreed.

So what. Sam's just my friend. He broke up with the girl from my school before we got back, and we just got to talk and hang out and be friends at the mixer. So what if he carried me off like a regular prince charming would after I slipped on a puddle of sweat chasing after his hat? So what.
He's just my friend.
We texted like pirates Friday. That's what friends do.

I could so use this to get over him.
And I want to.

But in the deepest corner of my mind, part of me just wants him to wrap his arms around me again, and to bury my face deeply into his chest and stay there.

That's what I wanted all along.

I'm done a month of my meds, and we're starting to scale them down. Real update in the morrow.

The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive

I'm just so damn uncomfortable in my skin today. And this week.

Sam justtt oh well fuck.

He ended it with the girl from my school before school even started. Talked to me again.

And he's back on my mind. I tell myself he's just a friend but.

Fuck.

I can't bring myself to say it. But this isn't about Sam today, not entirely.

I just don't feel right. Antsy. Crawly. I no longer die of starvation from my kidney meds, but I'm still antsy and all. I seriously don't feel self-concious any more; I was dying of that before school started. I just don't feel comfortable no matter what any more.

I need to something to flip my life around or just a new perspective or something. Changing my room didn't do anything. Losing the brother to college isn't doing anything.

I want to be in the school musical so badly it hurts. I fear I may get suicidal if I don't get in. I need this.

Sorry for the lameass post. Med Girl is hungry and needs fewd and has to go back to school tonight so yeah, I'm boring today.

...You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know

Hi, and welcome back to your daily dose of teen angst!



I wish I had happier, non-boy or -friend related problems to relay here, but it's for those kind of problems I require a blog. I mean, small problems like a C on a math test would have me upset for maybe an hour or two until I got home and vented to my mom. Boy and friend problems are difficult, you see, because only selected few hear the problems, and they get annoyed from it. Sure, I tell my mom roughly about boys, and a lot to all my friends, but there are some things I just can't say in so many words without feeling bothersome.

In addition, like with the math test scenario, that situation can be remedied by studying and working harder in class. I can't study people quite right. And working harder on people is a tricky process, because people are all so different. I must analyze as I go, and often my plans are shot to heck. So this here blog is my lame attempt to sort out these problems.



And though I wish I could report some happier news here, I use writing and blogging as a release. Happiness I keep and use and get high off; depression, remorse, fear, confusion, that I need released.



Now, on to today's lengthy post.




Chelsie is seriously ignoring me this time. Sure, in mid July, we got to hang while her boyfriend was at work. I told her everything eating me about Sam, and I realized how much I missed girl time with her, since I'm always ditched for her BF (that's boyfriend, in case you don't know). I've gotten used to it, but something really urked me off when I went to the beach earlier this month: I got word via the internet

a) Sam was single

b) Jack, the closest thing I have to an Ex, was dating one girl who went to Chelsie's tiny school.



Now, apparently for a good part of the year that girl tortured Chelsie.



When I texted Chelsie my information, she informed she already knew about Jack and her "friend." Because she and her Beau were going to double date with them.



I admitted to her I felt betrayed. She didn't apologise. She just asked what else could she do but accept.



I was more than a bit miffed. For you see, in my analytical mind, this was a sign of the Chelsapocalypse; I've felt for years Chels was kind of mocking me for never having a boyfriend.



And this was the clincher: Despite the fact that FOR MONTHS she hated this girl and was tormented by her, she was ready and willing to go on a double date with her and my "ex," for the simple fact this other girl had a boyfriend.



I thought myself crazy. I admit it, that's a bit of internalizing thar.



But it's true. Even Jack agrees; I've been talking to him lately about everything: highschool, the Olympics, and even Sam, but that's a topic we'll get back to.



See, ever since seventh grade when Chels made her first boyfriend with Shane, a meek little rocker boy from our tiny middle school, she tried to convince me I needed a mate too.

So she tried in vein to be matchmaker to me and my best male friend, but I just didn't want that.

She really hasn't tried setting me up with a guy again.

After all this time that you still owe...

Hare Krishna.

I totally fell in love with the show Skins today, from Across Ye Olde Ponde. My dad recorded episodes off BBC. I only saw the first two with him today, though, and I can't get enough. I want to go look more up online, since the show's pretty much over in Grand Britain for now, but my dad said don't expect them to be. I don't wan't to look them up though. I told him "Don't underestimate the internet" and I'm sure there are episodes somewhere, but I think it's more of a Daddy-n-me activity then a show, like Lost used to be. I'm okay though.

Seriously though, you should be questioning my motives behind fangirling over British telly. This is something my LJ or Facebook can handle.

But what unnerved me the most is how Tony, the lothario and title character of the first episode, was almost a fictionalized Sam: Sam from across the pond.

They have the same hair, stong jaw, and cheeky smile. The only difference physically is in the eye area: Sam's eye brows are far less menacing, and his eyes far bigger and darker, and, at one point anyway, happier. But the air Tony gives off: his swaggered walk, his quip at the French professor, singing at an all-girl's school, dancing, grinding with a girl: every once was almost as if an observer had apmlified Sam and cast a negative, honest light on him.

My fear in his return was justified, as you can tell; the situation has not gotten better on the surface, but in truth, every moment makes it worse. I've wasted so much time on him, and yet, now I feel finally the truth: it was all a wash out. I told myself even a month ago that I wouldn't be holding on to him unless I believed something worthwhile would come from this. And nothing has or even will; all my silly dreams from next year are shattered, replaced with that horrid fear that I will have to stomach the next few dances not only going stag, but with him there with ANOTHER GIRL. That's my bigger secret fear; my dreams will soon become the reality of someone else, someone on my home territory. I can only now picture the nightmare that would be fall dance: I come, outfitted in the green dress I bought from the small trading store down the boardwalk in June with the dreams he'd one day see me in it; only I'd notice him first, linked in the arms of a blonde princess, and I'd try and muster some sincere politeness when he walked over and greeted me. Yes, I know I wouldn't like him anymore at this point, but it would crush me, and I'd flee to the bathroom, and hide there for as long as I could to avoid him. Sure, he's probably be hidden in the center of the dance circle, grinding with his girl, out of sight, but he's now have landed back in my thoughts, and, face it, there'd be no escaping him. He'd made his presance known, and I'd have to deal with the reality of it: My dream incarnate was not mine, it had become someone else's memory, and my nightmare.

He's having a party this weekend for the pretentious Catholic society he joined, and I'm willing to lay money on the table the pictures will show up on my facebook homepage, along with the notice of his next relationship Sunday morning. Thus, another nail hammered into my coffin.

My gravest curiosity is whether he does decide to dismount his high horse and talk to me or not, and if he does, will that change how I'm feeling now?

I've never felt this before.
This isn't that newness of love, this is a special despair, special sort of hate and disdain I've never felt for him before, and a special disillusionment for myself.
It burns, and there's no love beneath it like before.

I left him at the beach the first week of the month. On that balcony, gazing out at the hills and houses and lights and sounds, with the glow of the pool below me, I think I nailed his coffin.

Yet why am I not happy about it?

More tomorrow. So tired.

I Don't Care About My Guilty Pleasure for You

Sam's home.

I want him to go away again.

Edit:

Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you.

No "Hi"? No?

Blow it up your ass Sam.

Babylon

So the hospital was not nearly as bad as I expected. It did put a few things in perspective for me.
Being on bedrest for about 24-hours, however, has helped my posture. I hate feeling as slumped as I did. I also stayed, but a freak planning error, in the pediatric oncology ward: the children's cancer unit. It was so odd, but the view was so beautiful. I feel so blessed now; my faith in God feels a bit restored, it really does.

My recovery is going super. I got home yesterday afternoon after following a bickering couple on the way from the Hospital. It was like watching Jerry Springer, I swear.

My brother, however, stole my post-Hospital attention; he cut himself today at work and had to be taken by ambulance to a different hospital because he bumped his head twice after fainting at the sight of his own blood. I've so been tooling on him.
I kinda like his new girlfriend. He said while I watched him play Portal "I don't need your approval. You need my approval for your boyfriends. It's a double standard." As funny as that was, I gotta say, this kid is so bad with girlfriends. This girl is cute though. I like her.

My cousin came over and helped me recover as we reveled in all things silly. I laughed so hard yesterday and today, probably too hard for my poor kidney.
I tooled on her Senior pictures. She looks ridokulously stoned in a few of them. Smiley face.

I so want to see A Dark Knight again. Joker nurse yay.


I painted Marie and Annie journals for their birthday. Two months late, but God, those things were WORK. I'll post pictures maybe if I feel like it.


Ugh, and Sam comes home in two days. I kind of want him to come back so I can find closure for him being such a cold jerk before he left; part of me wants him back, just because I haven't spoken to him for so long, and I miss his silly antics that perked up the doldrums of summer.

However, a greater part of me, considers now that he's single and met a ton of girls at church camp a few weeks ago and it's going to be painful to see which one he picks over me; that part of me wishes he was gone for good.

I don't know how I feel anymore. Part of me wonders if he's still real. He's turning into the first guy I liked, the one I saw so infrequently I questioned his existance to the point I pondered if he was imaginary. Hell, that's been all three guys I've had crushes on. The only confirmation of the first guy's existance was his myspace. The second one I wondered was an angel, for real. But Sam feels to be fading fast; I just don't think he's human any more.
No one can be this perfect, yet this cruel.

Learning "Please forgive me" by David Gray on piano. Need to finish summer reading, dammit.

Oh well; ♥

Look how they shine for you

A lame attempt at pointing out my personal flaws:

obviously you know all your good qualities. so what say i enlighten you to some of your not so good ones.
While you are an intellectual, you're socially and emotionally immature.
Your brand of comedy only appeals to a select few.
You're smart to the point where it's annoying.
You have a shyness and possibly a fear of intimacy about you that's gonna prevent you from having a serious boyfriend or getting a guy that you're interested in for a long time. (Guys pick up on that)
You can argue with me, but i'm not by any means the only person who thinks these things. :)

It's fun to finally know how far under "the closest thing to an ex you have"'s skin you got.

Besides, I'm not annoyingly intelligent; I'm intimidating.

I'll dave the Sam drama for later.

Kidney biopsy tomorrow D: I'm kinda nervous, but Mimsy and Johanna are coming :3

But I have to get up before 6 AM. That's the worst.
And Sam's away, so I can't text him while I'm there.
I woulod have loved that.

Maybe I'm just blind

Ugh I was sick yesterday. A fever, nothing special, but I woke up Sunday feeling ill, with the looping dreams that often signify illness. Sunday was hellish because I didn't even know how sick I was, so I went out, sick as a dog on a boat, and of course I ripped my pants.

Yesterday, in between the runs and my fever I ate:
Noodles (that tasted like waffles)
Applesauce
Toast with jam
More applesauce
a poptart
an ice cream sammich

My diet was a mess, but I'm back to my unnaturally low temperature.

Sam is driving me up a wall again. I thought he was ignoring me after rudely telling me about a concert where he removed his shirt because it was so hot out (meanie; he knew he was torturing me), but it turns out he went to scout summer camp. He was back Saturday, and we watched SNL together through texting, but he left again Sunday for a 7-day leadership conference and he will be back next Sunday again, only to leave immeadiatley for a boy scout trip. Worst of all? I'm leaving Friday for the beach for a week (yay for me), and I probably won't get a hold of him before he leaves for the trip, meaning I won't be able to talk to him for another two weeks. It kills me, because I love talking to him and SURPRISE! My friends are being bitches again!

Oh the internet. All the girls on facebook put pictures of them having fun without me, without even inviting me or telling me they were going; I get the hint, but if you don't like me, fucking tell me. Don't play nice, you bitches. Be honest.
At least I got to hang with Chelsie again. She admitted she's bad at balancing a boyfriend and friends, but she got rid of her facebook. I missed her.

Also, yummy yummy Dark Knight. Everyone at Writer's Camp told me it was amazing and I got to see it friday with my brother since he finally was off work.

Love love love.

More on Batman another time. I'm going to get some REAL food and watch the secret life of the american teenager :)

I'm the opposite of psychic. I have no idea what the hell I'm thinking. - Wendy Liebman.

Hey Jude, You'll do

Dear You,

You're being a whore, and you know it. You stole my phone. Harmless, I thought. You're not mean enough to do anything about it. But no. I can't want anything without you being a little child and wanting it to.
I love Sam. I'll say it: I love him. So thanks for helping him talk to me again on the 5th, but seriously, what the fuck. Shut up and quit talking to him. Stop pretending you are not interested, because you are. Stop bad mouthing my other friends to him. Look, they are less fucking retarded than you. At least Carlie admits, yes, he's hot, but I she knows I staked my claim. You mocked me for so long about him I'm seriously going to kick the shit out of you if you don't stop soon.
He's my dream guy. Get your own fucking dream, and don't drink. You're too young and already too stupid for that shit.

No love,
Me.

PS: I'd call you out in person, but you have my sunglasses still, you bitch. As soon as I get them back, I'm calling you out. I like my sunglasses more than you.



Dear You Too,

Sweet merciful heavens. When I rant to you, it's because I'm mad. Don't try to be mediator and fix ours problems; shut the fuck up and listen. I can handle this, but really, don't help. You are making it worse so that she can only bitch to me more.
You're not good at this, so I'm not telling you anything any more. Don't pass that shit on. Rants are for LISTENING. You should know me well enough that if I wanted to say anything, I would. I wouldn't tell you, especially not to tell her. Don't be a snitch. There's a reason in mob movies Frankie the Rat doesn't last long; no one likes a squealer, no matter their intent.

No Love,
Me.



Dear Dad,

Chill. It will all be okay. Just don't vent only on me when my brother goes to college. My nerves are running far too thin for my age already.

Love,
Me.

PS: Work out more. Eat less. Trust me.


Hey you with the hat,

No, I don't want to go out with you. I know who you are. I know you tried to dance with me at the mixer, and yes, it was like you were attempting to hump me. So no thanks. My eyes are set somewhere else, anyway.

Me


Dear Chelsie,

I missed you. I want to hang again soon. <3 Me

At Seventeen

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired.

The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth.

And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say come dance with m
eAnd murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen.

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, 'Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve. '

The rich relationed hometown queen
Married into what she needs
A guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly.

Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
Indebentures of quality
And dubious integrity.

Their small town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen.

To those of us who know the pain
Of valentines that never came,
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball.

It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me.

We all play the game and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say, come dance with me
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen.

Uptown Girls

Last night I borrowed from my cousin and watched a VHS of The Nightmare Before Christmas like any good teenager-that-is-regularly-referred-to-as-emo. Even though I'm pretty much the Anti-emo, I've been mistaken for every highschool stereotype. Today I was preppy. Middle school called me Goth. I like switching it up, and keeping people guessing.
Sally, however, is every emo girl, being kept hidden in her room by her parent(s), deviously escaping, and longing for a boy who is not "meant to be." Heck, Sally's every teenage girl.
I'm Sally, in a sense, because while I was watching the movie, Sam was online, and I was bewildered. Should I talk to him? Confront him? Or wait to see what he has to say? Will he talk to me? Is he avoiding me? Is he avoiding me because he feels guilty for lying? My newest worry:
Is he lying to get me off his back?
I apologise and forewarn you all: The boy drama alert has been high since April.

I also updated my ipod and boogied while emptying the dishwasher. Always fun at two in the morning.

I got to sleep in my own room last night, since my brother didn't have any of his pervvy friends over. The other night I had to stay on the floor in my parent's room because he and his friend were reveling in the goodness of his PS3 in his room, since he moved the TV in there, and my mom doesn't trust boys. I don't either. That's why I have high standards: Cute, but smart (and those are the ones that are hardest to crack for me), funny, and different. I don't want a robot. More on this later.
However, sleeping in my own room brought me back into the cycle of sleeping I have somehow dubbed "Zen sleep." I sleep in waves: Wake up in the morning, trun off my phone alarm, drift in and out of a very peaceful sleep for about an hour or more until I get motivated. Today I had the most bizarre dream about a beach and a beachhouse and my friend, the one who was ignoring me, snubbing me in the dream and me pursuing her and asking her why she is such a relentless bitch. My grandmother finally woke me up.

Grams and I went to the Barnes and Noble on the avenue. I love it there. Bookshopping is like an orgy to me. Seriously.
They still don't have this one book I'm looking for, but I got The Luxe at last and Evernight, which I will hopefully read after I finish Generation Dead, which I am hoping will be tonight. Evernight is about vampires, apparently. How bizarre.
Some lady cut in line at B&N. The cashier was apologising, because she didn't know the woman cut in line, but I let it slide. She was a jerk.
What was odder, though, was for the second time this week I saw a boy (NO!) and looking at him, I could remember Sam, the way he was. The way he was when I still had hope for us. The way he was when he opened his arms for one of the best hugs I ever recieved. The way that boy stood today made it possible for me to see Sam again, and, I feel ashamed for admitting it, I remember how much I liked him. I may still like him.

I got a nice pita sandwhich and pasta salad for lunch at the mall (but no Starbucks or disney music today. Sad.), then ate while talked about driving and weddings and gay men with my two grandmothers, until my mom came to take me out of their hair and away from the Dove ice cream bars (NOMNOMNOM). It was good to be free again today. I so can't wait for writer's camp next week.

After stopping at the cell phone store to pay our bill in one of the nifty machines, mummy and I went home rocking out to Billy Joel and discussing how if I one day get famous and rich enough, I am going on a shopping spree in New York with my mum and a platinum credit card, not looking at tags and listening to Uptown Girl as we do so. My mom says I am talented enough to do that. She likes how confident my school has made me, and how much self-esteem I have. Soon, after a bit more of a confidence boost from my All-Girls' school, I'm thinking I am going to start asking boys out. I know I can do it. Soon.

Boring afternoon. Dad sulked. I missed part two of my nightly block of Scrubs to go erranding with mi madre. We went to Target, which was an adventure finding chips for our Fourth of July party appetizer we need to bring tomorrow (er- today now), because we (SHE) kept changing our (HER) mind. I made so many laps to that damn aisle. I also found out target has pocky. Oh, the joy my inner Japanophile felt!

I also got to see a friend for the first time in weeks. Ricky didn't seem very happy to see me though. I think he forgot that a) I like by him, and b) I'm pretty and like saying hi.

I understand b) is sucky, but he was just stupified when I said hi. His mom yelled at him, me thinks. However, Ricky doesn't have stellar communications skillz anyway, so I'm not blaming him for only saying "Hello," three times.
But hey, first friend in a while! FREEDOM!

While there, I reminisced about my trip to the beach with Annie and Marie, my best out-of-state, twin friends. It was only last week, but I smiled remembering as Marie texted Sam, my Sam, and how we had a picture-fight with him over apple juice. My mom was so distraught about poor Marie.
Kids, don't have sex. It hasn't done Marie any good. Mum kept saying "What happened to our little Ree?" Ree has changed, but it's for the worst, and sadly her mother seems almost powerless to stop it. My mom then went on to tell me about how she was very shy and timid as a teenager, and she vowed she never wanted that for her daughter. I've survived an onslaught of stupid from first grade til now. I think I've accomplished her goal.

After hiding the oreos from my dad, I watched the fire works, then mummy and I watched "The Secret Life of the American Teenager," made by the guy who did 7th Heaven, which also sucked.
These kids act so oblivious and the two guys look alike. I like how the prude is preggo, too, but skanky sister is virginal. Because "Boys like nice girls."

Which is why I have had to beat them all down with a mother fugging bat!/Sarcasm.

I did, however, have to be careful with the guys I attract. After Jay and I stopped...talking, I guess, his best friend asked me out. But again with my standards: I know what Jay is like. I know, also, how to avoid his friends like the plague. Poor Ricky, I guess he really did like me. He just had poor associations.

Yes, I may come off as a stuck-up bitch, but i think I can be, because I'd be a good girlfriend. Only the best may apply, dammit. I know what I'm worth, which, again, is why I avoid Jay's friends. Jay: my best friend in eighth grade, who liked me for six months before asking me out and is thus far the only guy I agreed to go out with. After struggling with my feelings, I realized I didn't like him the way he liked me; I like how he treated me, and I liked him as a friend.

Then WWIII began, and we argued off and on for a very long time. We only became cool a few months ago.

And I guess I better get a move on to bed soon. I know most of this is very unmonumental, but the little details about life stun me. Like the sheer fact that I can discuss Sam (and his AMAZING hugs) openly with my mum, and how it's impossible to hear the music in a gas station, so you can never tell what you are listening to but you think you like it, and how at pretty much every wawa at any given moment there is a pickup truck that makes a ludicrous amount of noise for no reason so you can't even begin to identify the words in aforementioned songs-

Little things like that make me dream.

Blogs: because talking to yourself is just crazy!

Happy Independence Day, if anyone reads this.

Life in Plastic, It's Fantastic

I love shopping, and I hate it. I went with my grandmother and mom today, because HARE KRISHNA, I NEEDED TO GET OUT OF THE DAMN HOUSE, but considering my dad's job really doesn't pay and my mom's part-time is helping me go through private school and my brother through college, I feel guilty about shopping. I ought to be saving my money more, because come Christmas things are going to be grim. I have to shell out 300+ for driver's ed in a few months. Stupid gas prices are absolutely destroying my life from the inside out.
I wanted to escape to London this year so badly; heck, I just want to escape this country or even state, but I have a feeling I'm not going anywhere the rest of the year.
We were supposed to go to Italy after my brother graduated, but things changed in February when the lease was lost on the family business.
My dad is still cranky about it, and has been over-eating to relieve his stress. Which stresses me out, because my mom is going beserk, and since he eats everything in sight, I'm getting hungry, too. And I fear this stress-eating is not helping our budget any. Money scares me shitless.

I enjoyed going to Border's books though. I want to be a writer. I want to tell a story. This is my start. I found peace in the book store. But I had to go after a few minutes, because I had to wee badly.

I'm a bit ashamed that while at Border's and the mall, I wanted to see him. Him; I'll call him Sam. Sam doesn't live even close to that mall, but I kept hoping I'd see him striding around the corner, being as I've always seen him. Sam wasn't there.

Sam broke my heart last week, again.
He hasn't spoken to me since.

I hate him for it, but hating him hurts me so much.
I just can't forgive him for lying. Yet, I could imagine him as he was when we would bump into each other in the past. His eyes, his smile. I was ashamed for wishing it.

I wonder if he even knows how deep he's wounded me.

Reading has been my only reprieve lately. I guess I have mild depression right now. I may just be a hypochondriac, but I'm sick of being home. It's not like I'm out partying with my friends to ease the "pain." I don't talk to my friends much any more anyway, and the one who I thought was my best friend is evidently mad at me, because she's ignoring me like hell. So it's all I can do not to think about him in my free time and fight ache in my heart whenever I hear "Hey There Delilah."

At least next week I'll be out more.

I'm praying I'll find someone who replaces Sam in my heart. I want to be free.

Watching The Nightmare Before Christmas later.

"I love you and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it."

Hello There

I guess there's just so much I need to say that I caved into getting a blog. Anonymous. None of my real-life friends have one, and none have to know I have this. Less razzle-dazzle than LJ, more professional than Xanga, I present:

My mind.