Genuflect. And drool. All of you.

*Holy Choir Music* "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

It will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.

The "almost fell" feeling...

Well. Tuesday was... an adventure, in one sense. The kind of adventure that keeps you on edge, in complete discomfort for a while, and, when the time comes, makes you feel so relieved that it's over. And when you look back on it, you realize that maybe you were a little bit stronger than you thought you were.
This is the kind of adventure where you find yourself crossing an open distance in between two tall mountians--over a great height--over a rickety old bridge. You can't turn around now. You have to cross this bridge. You're beginning to lose your will the farther you go, and you look down, and loose your step. In that slow-motion stumble, you wonder if it's really worth getting to that other mountain, when all the mountains before haven't been all that easy anyway. You wonder if you really need to hold onto the bridge, which is shaking back and forth now. But instead, you catch the rope, and experience that tingling yet numbing feeling of having just slipped and lost your balance. A little encouragement from the friends around you, and you cross that damn thing, your feet hit the ground, and you bend over and kiss it and hold it tightly, thanking everything worth worshipping that it's solid and holds you steady no matter what. You thank everything that you didn't decide to let go, and although the road ahead is still a long, difficult one, you're willing to travel across it even more, thanking the earth with each step.

I broke down pretty bad at Alan's place on Saturday night. We had lots of fun, yes, as he described earlier. And I sure as heck acknowledge all of that. But I suppose I can't leave too much out. The not so pretty things have to been seen as well. So I broke down. Eventually I felt a little better, but then, early Sunday afternoon, something snapped again, and I was not doing well at all. For the first time I considered just clamming up for good. I was tired of having to spill out all of my feelings and problems every time one little thing set me off. Yes, I knew it was bad for me. It's like shaking up a soda can more and more every minute, and rather than opening it slowly and letting all the built up energy out, continuing to shake it and hoping it doesn't explode any time soon. But I wanted to believe, like every time before, that I would be okay, that eventually all the energy would just die down and I'd be good again. Very stupid indeed. Of course more negative, unreleased energy built up. I found myself blocking Alan out. Wanting to go away. Though, at the same time, I knew I didn't really want to go away. But the negative energy kept gathering and gathering, and I stubbornly kept pushing it down, and became cold and distant. That's like planting a time bomb on a relationship. But dammit... I was sick of breaking down all the time. Sick of feeling bad for one thing or another. I was getting sick of it all... and an ugly, scheming voice inside me began to wonder aloud whether or not I'd be better off alone... My first instinct was to blow it off and tell it to shut up. Though it had an idea running by me... a stop to the unnecessarily emotional waves. Sounded... vaguely interesting. Maybe...
Alan, being the sensible person that he is, confronted me. I wasn't sure how to react to him... He sure as hell knew something was wrong, and he knew the best way to go about it would be to talk it out. That was contradicting my plans... and at first my stubborn side galloped to rescue me, standing in between him and I. But the more he urged me, coaxed me, and a beg not to leave him later... No, I couldn't be icy anymore. Hurting him was not worth all this. I broke down to him yet again, voicing a few things the voices inside me wanted to do. We ended up both being scared, I was still tense... something was still bothering me. I decided to try to end my stay with him on a happier note, though, and requested that we go off and do other things. Which we did. And we did end up on a happier note. For which I'm glad.

That evening, mom came and got me. As usual, I was not happy to leave him, though as we left Redmond (and mostly due to the music playing in the car--The Caesars), I was feeling quite alright, if not a bit happy. Perhaps a little numb at first, the fact that I wasn't going to see him for yet another three whole weeks hadn't quite sunk in yet, it seemed. I got home, and slowly but surely it dawned on me. Later that night I flipped the online switch and found Kit to talk to. I briefly summed up what I mentioned earlier, refering to it as "emotionally rough." Which it was. I began to reflect on how I acted, how much I made the weekend worse than it couldn've been, how sad and scared Alan became because of me... and suddenly the tears started to flow again. Alan came soon after that. We exchanged greetings, and when he asked how I was, all I could think of to reply was "crying." Down and down the misery quicksand I went, turning into an guilty, apologetic, seemlingly incurable sobbing and self-hugging mass. It was a mess. If you saw me you'd think someone had just tried to shoot me. Alan comforted me as best he could, he even called my cell so we could talk (or one of us could talk, the other would blubber). Slowly but surely I followed the road of calming down, and after an escape downstairs to get something to drink and talk to my brother Evan a bit (who's quite alright to talk to on his own), and when I got back to talking to Alan... the feeling of relief was similar to the feeling right after you had to pee really bad. (Lovely simile, I know) I felt much happier and much more relaxed. *Whew*

So all went rather well... until the next night, Monday. Once again, little things ticked me off. I don't like going into detail about all of them... but I will share one. Alan was feeling pretty on top of the world at one point when I was chatting with him online. Of course I was happy he was happy. I like seeing him happy. But before he announced that, I was about to express that I was feeling kinda bummed because I missed him... and at his words... in spite of myself, I became even more bummed I couldn't be with him during such an elevated mood of his. But rather than deflate his little ride on cloud 9, I decided to keep my mouth shut. Not healthy. But he was happy... Soon it wore me down into a very unhappy state. He guessed so by the way my responses to his messages sounded. Then, as he always does in these situations, he turned to someone who could possibly help him and me--my cousin, Kirsten (whom we both had been talking to most of the evening), afraid that he had broken me. She did her best, trying out a usually reliable form of medicine--good music. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to do the trick, no matter what I heard. I knew the only cure would be to let out what I was feeling. But I didn't want to...

Sleep that night didn't leave me feeling better the next morning. I began to sink into that same mindset I had over at Alan's house. I was letting everything pent up again. I didn't want to talk it out all over again. I was sick of trying to surf out emotional wave after emotional wave. I wanted to wall myself up. From... Alan. Perhaps from everyone. Sick and tired of it all. Wanting it all to end... considering, again, that maybe it would be better just to let it all go... to take an "easier" way out. When I finally gave up trying to avoid going online, and Alan tried to start conversation with the semi-relucantant me, I half-way expressed these thoughts to him... but when the actual concept of breaking up, especially when he offered me the choice of letting him stay or asking him to leave me, came up... I felt extremely scared. My first instincts told me not to let go, never to let go. The icky voice in my head told me that it would be a way to end most of this... I knew that if I let Alan go, a big part of me would die with him. Too big of a part, maybe. It was like considering a sort of suicide... the easy way out when things are getting really rough, but it's so permenant... do I really want to do it? Kit signed on, and she tried to talk to me (I figured Alan ran for help again), but I just wanted to keep crying and shredding up an unlucky paper towel in front of me. It became apparently fairly soon that I couldn't keep it held in any longer. My trying to hold back my emotions to the people I trust is like trying to hold back the flood of the century with some drywall. Won't last more than 24 hours. I was talking to Candice at this time too. First just about emailing old pictures I took back in high school, but then I let her know what was happening to me at the moment. Then Alan called... better to sort this out when we can actually hear each other's depressed and scared as hell voices. As I turned into a sobbing, shaking, pile of sorrow, I decided I didn't want to leave him, and told him so. It was still a mostly silent and mournful converstation, and after a while I requested that we switch back to talking on IM. Afterwards, he told me it was time I had to break off my dependance on him. Which is like telling an addict to lay off the drugs... a very hard thing to do, but I knew I had to do it at the same time. I talked to Kit more, explaining my situation, and then I decided to go out and pick some blackberries so that I could make a pie later. My sister and I were IMing each other, and I asked that she come with me to gather these essential ingredients. She was trying to start conversations with Alan, and asked why he was so quiet. I made a deal to explain a bit more of the situation if she would accompany me on the walk.

As we walked, I explained the situation as best as I could to a 13 year old girl who has never really been in a situation like mine. She understood as best she could, and was actually a good listener. I concluded out loud that I probably wouldn't break up with Alan. Her reply was "He's nice..." "Yes, he's very nice." Her way of telling me to stay with him, cause she approves of him. I agree with her. She then began a discussion of what she would look for in a guy, with a note of worry that it might be hard finding someone who would accept the way she is. I assured her that later in life she was sure to meet some very nice guys (mom was right, college is the place). Very interesting talk... not really one she and I have had before. The rest of the trip was spent collecting a bunch of berries, exercising the eager Gryffin, and meeting two ladies with their three dogs along the way. We came home, I made a pie crust, and then Graham started to make dinner, which meant my pie making had to be delayed.

So I went back upstairs and signed online. Alan was there, and said hello to me. I greeted him back, we asked each other how we were doing. I told him I was doing alright, but still working on that feeling... which was true. The walk did make me feel better, but I was still shaken up. The whole idea of breaking up was... well, scary as hell. It was going to take me a while to recover. Alan told me he was still working on it too. I figured the whole thing shook him up just as much. I told him that I decided that in the end, I would not leave him. To my surprise, he replied with a confused "I though you said you wanted to break up...?" No, I never said that, I told him. Suddenly his mood has climbed back up towards the clouds. He misheard me over the phone, it turned out, hearing my "I don't want to break up" as "I think I want to break up" (That guy's little ears need some fixing...). I thought about all that time he sat there, feeling so heartbroken... If there's one thing that makes me feel extremely sad it's knowing I hurt someone else. It brought me to tears right there. I kept reassuring him that I was sure I wouldn't leave him, he told me how incredidly happy he was that I decided to stay with him. It was rather surreal... thinking about random little things that we shared, and thinking that I would have to let them go and not think about them the same way again... Imagining life without him is a very tough thing to do. So slowly but surely we realized how grateful we were to still be together, and I overcame my huge tidal wave of a breakdown. And I went downstairs and made my delicious pie. And talked with Alan the rest of the night.
I never want to have to go through that again.

And the fact that my hormones are making my emotions eat me more isn't helping either. Yet another straw on the camels back.

But to sum up--Alan and I are still together, perhaps even stronger than ever.
YAY!!!!!!!
*cue 1 million love songs. Actually, just the one below*

Wild Horses

For now, I'm giving you the scarily significant lyrics.
Deal with it.

Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can’t let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn’t drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn’t drag me away

Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Let’s do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day

This was written by the Rolling Stones. For a longer time I've known a cover of it by the Sundays. This is also their shortened version of the lyrics. Beautiful song. Pretty lyrics. Meaningful lyrics. To me. Right now.

SPECIAL GUEST POST SPECTACULAAAAAR!

As you may have detected from that subtle title, this isn’t Rowan. It’s Alan, writing a guest post, as per her request. This post is brought to you by the number “5” and the letter “C”. Ahem. Moving on.

So! Weekend. Rowan was here, which is largely the inspiration for me writing this. She arrived late on Friday, bearing such exquisite gifts as vanilla, egg yolks, and whatever else goes into making vanilla ice cream (I’m no dessert chef). Somehow we found the generosity in our hearts to let her use our... heck, I think this thing deserves its own paragraph.

It is called the Ice Cream Revolution. It is shaped like a sphere, about one foot across, with removable caps at both ends. One of the caps opens into a cylindrical container inside the sphere. Ice cream ingredients go in here. The other end opens up to the rest of the ball. Ice and rock salt go in here. Fill it up, seal both caps, and then shake, roll, and pass the ball around for about twenty minutes (taking a break after ten to scrape the sides). Open it, and ICE CREAM comes out. It’s brilliant.

Actually, for the first batch, we didn’t have any rock salt. So, we used sea salt. Trust me, this doesn’t work. It took about 5 times as long as it should have to get it done. We were still shaking ice cream after midnight. On Saturday, we got some rock salt at the market and finished the job.

Aside from a walk in the woods near my house and some Mystery Science Theater 3000 (“Hercules Against the Moon Men”), the main course of Saturday was the 75th birthday of my uncle Irv. Me, Rowan, and my brother were all invited, and much food and merriment was had by all. I felt young. Reasonably. Rowan also got to hear my mom’s And She Was cover, which was exciting.

Sunday! On our last day, Rowan filled one more of the gaping holes in my pop culture education by showing me Wayne’s World. My reaction to this movie was varied and confused, but I think I can well sum it up in one word:Dude.

Besides that, we had pizza, watched my brother play video games while offering insightful commentary, and generally hung around until Rowan left. And that’s where my story ends.

If you want to see Rowan come back to her blog, then just say tuned, same Rowan time, same Rowan channel. Ciao.

Marty Riemer rocks my socks off!!!

The simple pleasures of music.

Hearing a song I love. Hearing a song I havne't heard in ages. Loving the artist who plays the song. Hearing new music that I learn to love. Hearing funny songs. Listening to the radio for the first time in years.

Yep, that's what I'm doing. I haven't done it in a long time. My favorite station is 103.7 FM. They play old rock, new rock, singer/songwriter rock, hot band rock, classic rock, indie rock, pop rock, grunge rock, country rock, folk rock, and sometimes even steer towards punk rock and metal rock. Rock rocks. Their station rocks.

So a little thing I did back in the day was to listen to the radio for a good amount of time and write down any songs that I liked. I only did it a few times, but it was a good thing to do. What annoyed me was when the DJs would quickly go through the names of the songs and the people who played them, not giving me enough time to write them down. But what I could write down, I would.

I looked through that journal last night. I decided to go through it and look for songs I may have not heard since, or any songs that would make good additions to my Napster collection. I got some good ones, and I was amazed to see songs recorded down that I didn't really know back then but I know very well now. I thought about listening to the radio again for the first time in a long time.

And as I said earlier, I did today. I was talking to Alan at the same time. It was quite an experience. I started writing the good music down, like I used to. I then found the advantage of having a laptop with me--I can google the songs, the artists, or any lyrics and find said song if I needed to. Later, while perusing their website, I found that I can actually see what song they're playing at the moment--freaking awesome, yo! They played good favorites of mine, by good artists. Dire Straits, Neil Young, U2, John Lennon, Davie Bowie, Sting, and Tom Petty--just to name a few. Everytime one of those songs came up I would exclaim the artist to Alan. I would pretty much tell him every time when a song or an artist came up that I knew. It was so exciting. Music is just one of those things that can get me so excitied. And then...
This radio station does a thing in the afternoon called "Desert Island Disk." They pose the question: If you were stranded on a desert island, what 3 albums would you want to have? I thought about it for a while, and knew I had to have some Beatles with me. I picked the White Album--not only does it have good songs, but it's two disks. The more Beatles, the better! So I hear a caller tell her answer: The White Album. "Done!" exclaims Marty Riemer, the DJ for the afternoon. I hear the jet sounds in the beginning of Paul McCartney's playful jab at the Beach Boys, "Back in the USSR." Of all picks, and there are a HELL of alot of picks, the one I was thinking of made it in. "OOOOOOOOOOOOH!" I type into Alan's chatbox, and explain it to him. I was so happy!!
As he said:

[18:26] Alan Gordon: I don't think I've ever seen you this excited
[18:26] Alan Gordon: EVER

Then came the 5:20 funny. They play a little clip from a stand-up comedian at this time. The guy I heard was good, talking about where our bad health really comes from: the food. I missed the guy's name though... I found their website, and looked all over for where I might find this out, but had no luck. After the comedy bit, they played a really funny song. I got the name of the band, but couldn't find them anywhere when I googled them. I resolved to email the DJ--something I don't normally do. I asked about both the comedian and the song. And he replied! Very quickly! Like, within the hour quickly. I got the name of the Comedian, where the clip was from, and the name of the band with the funny song. It was so awesome!

So yeah, music made my day really happy. Which was good, I needed cheering up. Happy Day and Night to you all!

To hear that song and read a little story closely related to mine, go here: http://www.defectiveyeti.com/archives/001315.html

The little things that make me smile

This is one of the cutest puppies I have ever seen. All those in favor say "Awww!"

A word to those wishing to be wise

Don't you ever, ever, EVER spoil the plot of a book I want to read or a movie I want to see or a show I want to watch or anything like that.

I'm writing this mostly in a rage that I've had The Sixth Sense, something I've been wanting to watch for a long time, completely blown for me.
I'm not really inclined to see it anymore.

Better now!

And let the word out
I've got to get out
Oh, I'm feeling better now
And break the news out
I've got to get out
Oh, I'm feeling better now!

(Thank you, Collective Soul)

Well, yesterday I started looking into Culinary Art schools. I got a package of free info from Western Culinary Institute, down in Portland. It looks all cool and pretty and high class and stuff. It's rather costly... though it sounds like my parents and I could figure something out. I hope. Because it looks neat.
I want to get a Bachelor's in art. I've pretty much decided that now. I've got my eye on Studio art, seeing that it seems like a pretty basic art area, and is very much my forte. And getting a Bachelor's degree will save me some school (and finances) in the future. Then I plan to get into a Culinary college, and learn to be a pastry chef. Get a diploma in there, get all learned and everything, make pretty desserts, and viola! I make you fat! ;)
The Art Institute of Seattle also has a culinary arts program. The thing is they don't offer a Bacholer's in studio art (they do offer it in animation, media, and interior design). So no transfering to me. Though as far as the Culinary Arts go, I may very well consider it too. It is cheaper than Western Culinary Institute... though the quality of such a program is unsure to me. I guess I'll just have to keep on considering...
I have to admit this all now. When I announced to my mom that the Art Institute of Seattle does Culinary arts, she asked "Do they offer bacholer's? Cause you could transfer, after Sophomore year..." *Out of no where, a giant fist descends and punchs me in the chest* T-t-t-transfer? I had not considered it before... and I really REALLY didn't want to. I had just gotten used to the way things were at Western... The environment, the people... the people especially. In particular, one person. You may guess who I would be afraid to leave the most, and there's a good chance you'd be very right. I do acknowledge that person being probably the majority of the reasons not to leave... but change in general scares me as well. I'm pretty reactionary when it comes to change. I follow rules, afraid to change or break them, set by whatever authorities, and when I like something, there's a very slim chance that I'll want it to change. Not that I'm a complete law-abiding citizen, I do have moments of rebelliousness, I won't be afraid to challenge some authorities, and sometimes I'll welcome a change with open arms (especially if it's a change from bad to good). But for the most part, change is a frightening thing, however unavoidable it is. And changing the way things go just as I get used to them... not fun. I just about breathed a sigh of relief when I learned the Art Institute of Seattle didn't offer Bacholer's in any field I was interested in. I'm free to continue my education at Western. I wonder what I'll specialize in...

AAAAHH!!!! You know what I hate about sunburns?! They sting, then they itch, then when you scratch them it REALLY stings!! Blech.
The reason for the sunburn was Danielle's B-day party, of course. She's finally made it into the 19 club (though apparently Aleeza, according to what she inscribed on the present she gave, thinks Danielle should remain 18). We went to her fancy-shmancy apartment in fancy-shmancy Bellevue, and played in her pool and BBQed for a good deal. She's got cool friends from UW, and I saw her, Aleeza, and Deanna for the first time since New Year's. Should've remembered that sunscreen, though... ow.

So, back to education and the results of thinking, I was in a constant state of unrest since the mention of a transfer. Even though I knew I didn't have to, I was still very shaken up with the idea of it all. Nothing seemed to console me. The next morning I woke up with my neck being, for lack of a better phrase, a heinous bitch. Throughout most of the day I had a constant neckache and a headache as a result of the neckache, and my shoulders weren't doing so well either... but could they be massaged? No, because 1) no one would do it, and 2) it burns!!! And because of all that I felt very lethargic and wanted a nap... never really got one though. My parents are going to go on a teeny weeny vacation up in a lodge in the Olympic Peninsula, starting Sunday night. They'll be gone for two days... leaving me with my younger siblings during that time (and I'll be taking just about any excuse to get out of the house... *HINT!!*), and we had a "council" to decide on which movies to rent while they were gone. Negotiation with my siblings... frankly, it's hardly a barell of laughs. Oh well. Misery, both physical and emotional for the majority of the day.. then like magic the mood was flipped around during the evening.
I decided to make a Chocolate Decendance cake (which I haven't tasted yet), so I had my laptop downstairs to have the online recipe right next to me. My sisters went with my mom to go shopping for pants (and other things, I could tell), Graham was off being paid to play his clarinet (he's in the pit for a musical), so it was just me, Evan, and dad home. I watched Evan play around with Gryffin, our puppy, a bit... that little dog can be very cute sometimes. Made me smile alot. Then Evan and dad played catch outside for the first time in a very long time... that made me happy too, for some odd reason. So I prepared the cake, and postponed baking it because Evan and Dad went to go get pizzas from Papa Murphy's--you know, the kind you take home and bake yourselves. Then we sat around eating pizza, and taking advantage of the variety of access I have on Napster. It was really fun, listening to all different kinds of classic folk and rock and sometimes just plain old(er) music. It was a time where, believe it or not, I was having fun with my family. Part of them. Then my sisters came home, and I thought that was to be the end of it right there. But no! The fun continues! After Evan browsed my music options some more, he left for AIM land on the PC and my sisters promptly took over--mainly Keira. We switched the genre to more modern music (for the most part)--pop, punk, and newer rock. This time it came complete with improved interpretive dances from me!!!! You know y'all wanted to see that!! We sillied out for a great deal of time, then it was bedtime. I headed upstairs to my room, and chatted till 2 in the morning with two of my favorite people--Kirsten and Kirsten! (The former more commonly known as Kit) And then I fell asleep, feeling so much better, much more socially adequete, just about all worries of the future gone away, feeling actually proud that I might know where my life is heading, and very content with the knowledge that Alan would be returning sometime the next day...

=)

Nothing like a nightly rant to somehow kill time.

So.
I didn't get a job this summer. That was lazy and stupid of me. Blah. I'll try to this school year. I've got time. I'm gonna be set up for a wimpy quarter anyway. My boyfriend and roommate are taking suicidal school measures. Maybe I should too. I took 4 classes and got 16 credits total for two quarters last year. This year if I take the same number of classes, I'll only get 14. Should I take on 5? Is joining a group suicide better than sitting on this butt of mine, which logically should get getting fatter and fatter as the days of inactivity trudge on, and watching it with empathetic eyes and an empty heart?

Alan's gone for the weekend. Camping. I wish I were camping. I wish I were doing something. I wish I were with him. I guess what this means for me is that I don't know what to do in the evenings which he will not be here. Plenty of options, yet I'm not sure if I have the heart for any of them.

I'm constantly tired. My neck and back have been plaguing me for about a year now. I don't get much physical exercise. I don't get much artistic exercise. I could draw, but it's been so long that I've felt like I've lost my touch. I'm afraid to try anything new, because I need a refresher in the basics again. It's really hard to get back on the wagon when you've fallen off and trailed along for a considerable amount of time. I'll need to eventually, I've decided. I plan my major to be art. So flexing my art muscles would probably be a good idea. Just not sure how to do it, really... I also don't get much social exercise. And that's very sad. My number of friends cannot diminish. And yet... gee, how do I go about this. I guess for a while I was happy with a bunch of different people as friends... those people are getting differenter and differenter by the day now, as am I. And these days... what I really would be looking for would be someone who I am not afraid to be myself around. I've got to say that it is a difficult thing. It's one thing being yourself, it's another thing to act the way people would like for you to act. The problem with being myself is... who the hell is that?! It only seems to come out when I'm with my most trusted of trusted friends. I can count those on one hand. I wish I could open myself up more... but then comes the question of where to draw lines. I don't know what to talk about with people, there isn't too much going on my life; how long am I going to be going around wishing I had more friends, more stuff to do, and more knowledge of life in general? A long time. I'm only 19. Do I really have a "unique personality worth knowing?" How many people would bother to take the time and energy to dive into the depths of my perception on the world around me, and then try their best to understand it? Okay, I know some of you out there would... but not many people do. Okay, alot of that is my fault, yes. I'm quiet around most people. I'm also easy to boss around, or to put to work in anyway. (Ironic fact: I'm quite bossy myself sometimes. Just ask those four younger siblings of mine) I just don't know which of my personality quirks to show and which not to. I have no idea where "the lines are drawn." Should I say this, or will it sound too lewd? If I say this, will people draw the conclusion that I somewhat moronic? Would this be too offensive to say? There are some of you who would advise to "speak my mind and not care who thinks." I guess a tragic point of my personality is that I do care what people think. I will acknowledge that I am a caring person. When I really care about something or someone, boy do I care about it. To the point where you so much as badmouth that thing or person and I... will get really offended. I will often stay silent if it's a certain subject or object (though less so the more I know the person), not so silent if it's a person; I'd like to think. No one's ever really unfairly slandered someone really cared about. Which is good. Right? So yes. Social skills, I seem to lack. No matter what I do. I can be social if I am really up for it... but it's always a stretch, a song-and-dance, a going-out-of-my-way, even a challenge. And I'll often question myself along the way "Am I being myself now? now? how about now? Would I really have thought that, or am I just saying that to be mildly amusing?"
Insecure? Yes I am. Very much so. I'm teen-aged, it seems to be our collective fate. Insecure about one thing or another. The way we look. The way we act. The amount of friends we have, and who they are. Our attractivity. Our place in society. Our place in the world. On and on and on. Nothing I say is original, nor is it emerging for the first time. Every single word and phrase I say has been said by someone somewhere 10+ times.

I don't like physical activities, or sports. That seems to take alot of fun out of life. Lots of college kids like sports in one way or another. I don't. That sucks.
Lots can play musical instruments. I don't. I can't. I tried once. My patience wore thin. I'm left with below par skills even of a below par player. Of piano, incidentaly.
I guess I'll never be one of those "crazy" people either. People who get drunk every weekend. Every weekday. People who party as often as they should be studying. People who have crazy and often obscene pictures from various alcoholic get-togethers. I don't have much against those people (I have something against those people who also happen to fall under the catagory of "stupid"). They're having fun the way they want to. It's just not what I want to do. Which is sad. Yet another thing that many college kids do that I don't participate in.
Dance. Nope. See "physical activities."
There are some physical activities that I do like.
Picky, picky, picky. Yes that's me. Picky about jobs I may or man not get, picky about people I allow to become friends, pickier about those who become close, picky about activities... I'm doomed, aren't I?

Goddammit, I can't go on venting like that. It gave me something to do, but Im' not sure if it's making me feel any better, nor is it getting anything done. I could complain all day and night, but the rain would just keep pattering on without a care for any disadvantage it might be imposing. It's thankfulness time.
I'm thankful I'm alive and healthy. I have lightning-like metabolism. I have artistic skills. I have logic skills at the same time, that's neat. I'm smart. I do have good, nice friends. I can bake and cook pretty well. I do care when I need to, which is alot. I am very loyal. I try to be as open-minded as possible. I'm in a happy, healthy, romantic relationship. I at least try to give the impression of "nice" when I first meet people. I can be reliable when you really need me to. I like it when I'm happy. I have a complete, healthy family, loving parents who are graciously paying for my college education. I'm getting a college education in the first place. When I need to be, I can be strong-willed. I can also be a voice of reason when the time calls for it. I have the capacity to be a fun person. I'd like to believe, anyway. I live in a decent country. A pretty damn good one, even. I'm becoming less and less afraid to assert that I am a nerd, geek AND (get this: AND) a dork. I'll keep trying. I swear I will.

I miss you all. I miss college. I miss my boyfriend. I miss... so much.
But thanks for being on my side. It's another thing that keeps my eyes open.

More dorky literature!

I give you a stunning, scrumtrilescent piece of work, courtesy of my Brother Evan, his friend Andrew, my sisters Keira and Brenna, and my boyfriend Alan. It was composed the night of July 30th.

"A.D.D."

My name is Jimmy
I drive a green van
I've got hatchets in my lungs
And I wear Peter Pan

Yo, yo Mister
I like your sister
When she wears her teddy bears
She looks like a twister

I live in a tree
I'd like to eat a bee
Although my mother likes to stick
inhalers in me

There go baboons
Under my chair
There's a gnat named Telemachus
And he isn't even there

I have some sprite
It came in a box
Look, there's a slug
I saw it in the mirror

In conclusion,
There's a face in my head
Put it all together
And then go to bed



I dare you to write something better and wackier than that.

A metaphor

But first, recent events.
I was graced by Alan's presence from around 8:00 on Friday till 4:00 on Sunday. I'm the kind of person who wants things to go according to the original plan, and get antsy, frusterated, upset, or angry when they don't. I have to say I feared my weekend was doomed when thing after thing after thing came up and hardly any of my original weekend plan was left. However, to my great pleasure, the weekend turned out to be much more than I expected, and I can say that both Alan and I enjoyed our time together very much. We watched movies, we baked (carrot cake--one of his favorites), we took a forest backtrail stroll, we made up absurdly silly songs with my siblings; we were happy to be together again.
He's gone now. And once again I am lonely. No matter how many times I've done it, no matter how long or short the time between, no matter how close or far away he will be, seeing him go never gets easy.
3 weeks is how long I will wait again. I hope I make it.

So, now the title's sake.

Fire up your imaginations, and set the setting to a room full of displays. Boxes of chocolate and candies, of all sorts and sizes, and in different boxes and other presentations. There are square boxes, circle boxes, triangle boxes, amorphous boxes. They come many colors, from pastel to shaded, bright to neutral, warm hues, cool hues, hardly any hues. Some are ornately ribboned, sequinned, buttoned, glittered, or rather plain. Some satin, some wood, some velvet, some paper and cardboard. Some come with pictures, some play music when opened, some don't offer any additional entertainment. In short, every box you can possibly concieve, and no two are identical. And this is just the packaging.
Open up the boxes to see what they really can offer. Milk chocolates, dark ganache truffles. caramels, candied fruit or flowers, chocolate-covered nuts, white chocolates, toffees, taffies, liqueur candies, vanilla candies, fruit flavored candies, small cookies, chocolate mints, peppermints, and other sweet confections.
The way the candies and boxes match up is lots of guesswork. Sometimes you will look at a light pink, ribboned box expecting to find something sweet and delicate inside, and sure enough you find white chocolate raspberry truffles. Sometimes you'll find something unexpected. A lavishly decorated deep blue velvet box only contains a few plain milk chocolate candies that don't recall ingredients of high quality. Sometimes they decieve you--a harmless yellow plastic box will contain chocolates that taste like they've been cooked with sewar water. Some are very bizarre--a hexegon black and plastic-spiked box with chocolates that suspiciously taste like animal blood. And then there are those that look plain from the outside, but surprise you with something delicious inside.
Wandering around this vast room to the back, there is a box which looks... a little plain. It's oval shaped, light pink, and has a thin, red velvet ribbon bordering the edges. It's got a little ribbon rose right over the center of the edge of the lid. Compared to the elegance and flashiness of the first boxes you layed eyes on (naturally, at the ver front of the room), it's nothing much. Most would pass it by without taking a look at what's inside. There is a trick to this box too. You open the lid at first, and you see nothing more than a few small butter cookies, some dipped in dark chocolate. Again, nothing too special, even if they are tasty. Not too many people bother to open the second lid... because amoung the fine red velet lining are extremely rich chocolates... not to be eaten casually or all at once, but to slowly allow them to melt and fill your mouth with dark sweetness.
(This sounded better in my mind. Bear with me)
For those of you who have seen both lids open, hooray for you.