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.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
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
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
Saturday, July 5, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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."
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.
My mind.
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