Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Room for Another Knife and Another Mistake.

Photography Pictures, Images and Photos

Can a girl make anymore mistakes? I thought we were supposed to learn from them, and maybe I have in a way --just not what I expected to learn. I made yet another stupid decision, which may or may not cost me everything: It's only a matter of time before I find that out. What I'm about to disclose happened almost two weeks ago, and I've been dealing with drama ever since.

One night I was baby sitting, and I texted this one guy commenting on his Christmas tree because I passed by his house on the way. I honestly can't say what happened really because I'm still trying to figure it out. Out of the blue he starts strongly hinting at kissing me. A day later it happens. I didn't expect it at all. In fact, I was kinda against it happening especially given where it was going to take place: At school. But we kissed, and it was the most interesting thing ever. Not good or bad just weird. Immediately afterward I felt a twinge of guilt and absolute surprise. The guilt was because it wasnt even a month since I had stopped talking to P., and here I was kissing someone else. The surprise was because I was the one who ended up giving this guy his first kiss.

A couple days later he kept pushing me about when we were going to kiss again. I don't like being forced into doing things. It was at the school Christmas concert that he demanded to do it. I said no. This is when things started to get out of hand. My younger sister saw the whole thing, and came up to me asking, "Did he just tell you he liked you?" I wasn't going to lie to her. She started crying when I said R and I were kinda involved. I rushed her out of the room to explain everything to her and how bad I felt for doing it. I had no idea she still liked him; I was under the impression she's moved on. But I promised I would call the whole thing off that night. I couldn't be involved with someone my sister liked.

"R., we can't do this anymore."

"Ok. That's kinda good actually. Can I ask why?"

"I think all you see me as is the girl you get to kiss and nothing more."

I wasn't allowed to tell him the real reason why I was calling the whole thing off. But then the truth came out: He fessed up to using me. I can't say that I was surprised or hurt by this because I had this small feeling from the beginning that that is what he was up to. He felt really bad about it and apologized several times. It was over. . . or so I thought. The next day after I got homr from my house cleaning job, D., my sister's friend, calls. My sister wasn't home, so I ended up talking to D. for a little bit. Suddenly she askes, "It was you with R. wasn't it?" Again, I wasn't going to lie about it so I answered yes.

Flashing back to the night of the concert, when I got home, my brother came to talk to me. He said he saw the whole thing between me and R. and wanted to know what I was going on. I told him, but made sure he understood this stayed between us. The next day I find out he told someone. The guy he told luckily was a friend of mine too. He assured me he wasn't going to let the cat out of the bag, and I trusted him.

Saturday morning I wake up with a text from R saying he wanted to talk to me about something. He started asking me if I wanted to be the only girl he cared about because I liked me and wanted me to like him. What? I was....I was screwed. After some fancy foot work, I manage to hold him off and have us just be friends for a long while knowing he wouldn't stick around. Later I receive another text from him asking me if I told anyone because this girl found out and told him. This girl happened to like him not too long ago, but they both decided not to do anything. Now I'm trying to figure out who of the four people told T.

I start asking D., and she tells me it wasn't her. My sister asks her four times and gets to same answers. We're both very suspicious of her because D. doesn't have to best track record with keeping things a secret. I asked the other guy who knew: He promised I could trust him. R. then asked me to not talk to him very much. I thought that was really odd, but I didn't really care. I did, however, care that people were lying to me. D. admitted the next day she was the one who told T.

I thought it was all over, and I wouldn't have to worry about this whole situation again. Ha ha ha. On Monday, my sister told me that yet another person found out about what happened. The guy I thought I could trust told J., another girl with a notoriously big mouth. I wasn't mad just really hurt. Were people havng a contest to see how many knives they could stick in my back? I asked him why he would betray my trust like that. He insisted I could trust her because she was his best friend, and she knows everything about him. That still doesn't give him reason to tell her something that isn't even about him.

If she tells, this is only going to get worse. If it spreads around my school, there is a chance R and I could get suspended. Plus, coupled with the other previous really stupid thing I did with P., my life would be over. Not that I probably don't deserve it.

What I've learned from my mistake is that I should say 'no' a whole lot more, and I can't trust anyone.

Monday, November 30, 2009

A Little Bit of Everything.

Time to start counting down the days to Christmas Break. I'm definitely not ready to go back to school tommorow, but who ever really is? I spent all day today decorating other people's houses. Fake trees really aren't that bad. Putting lights on, however, is bad. I get to look forward to putting the lights on my own tree some time tonight. Is it just me or does everyone seem to have to by new lights every year? I was pulling out all the lights from last year, and two were completely dead. One was working, and only half the lights on the rest worked. Ugh.

Now I'm the kind of person who refuses to listen to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. It just seems that everyone is so anxious for Christmas that they forget about Thanksgiving. But now I'm in full Christmas music mode: I've been listening and singing them all day. My favorite by far is Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt; A close second is Baby, It's Cold Outside by Zooey Deschanel and Leon Redbone.

Random change of subject...

This weekend is Protocol! I bought myself the perfect dress, picked out the perfect hairstyle, and found the perfect accessories. I just have to find shoes now. I'm still a little nervous about who my escort will be because letme tell you most of the guys aren't the creme of the crop. I'm determined to enjoy myself none the less. It's my senior year for heaven's sake. I can't wait to post pictures!


Moving's hard. And now that my youth pastor has stopped emailing me (he never ended up calling me again like he said), I feel sorta abandoned. I really wish I could read minds just so I knew how things with P. really are.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

A Kiss Good Bye.

I won't go into detail, but me and my boy did something stupid. Sure most would not think meeting up with your boyfriend isn't a punishable offense, but think again when you're going it without parental consent. From my last post you all know I'm not allowed to talk to him via cell phone... well that rule was broken after a week. Anyways we made plans, and I'm kicking myself now for not going with my gut feeling and said no to meeting.

Later that night (this happened Monday), my dad got a call form P's dad asking if we could come over to talk about something. From a previous conversation, I knew that P had to tell my dad we'd kissed before, so I was under the impression that was what the meeting was about. I was wrong. P's parents found out that we had met earlier that morning. Can you say 'oh shit?' My youth pastor was invited to come to the meeting as well, which was really bad for reasons I won't get into. After apologizing to everyone and their dog, the verdict was announced: P and I aren't allowed to be friends. P was quick to agree to it, so there was not much else I could do.

I kept it together all the way through the meeting; even though, I was really embarrassed, and all the way home. Once I made it inside, I broke. Luckily was older sister S was there to ask what was wrong. I told her everything that had happened that night. She told me that I had to be absolutely sure this guy was the right guy, because otherwise he won't be worth waiting 2+ years for. But she told me what I should really do is just move on, which is what I've decided to do. If I want to make it through the next couple years, I can't have this empty feeling, and be depressed, and miss him constantly. If we're not allowed to be friends, why should I wait around? Of course, this does not mean I'm going out to find a new guy. Hell no.

Since I decided that, I haven't missed him or had the urge to talk to him somehow. I'm pretty happy considering what's happened. The day after was a little hard when my mom was all passive aggressive with me. I get the the trust between me and my parents is broken, but they'll get over it one day. Now all I want is for them to stop bringing it up so I can really move on.

Today my Greek teacher, who happens to be my pastor, called me out of class half way through to talk to me about it. He wants me to write a letter of apology to P for the part I played --I agree with that. He also wants me to feel free to talk to him about it. I don't think so. He let me know that all the elders know about what happened; I thought about this as I walked into physics and remembered the teacher is an elder. Wonderful. Then I get home and I get this email from my youth pastor asking my how I am and that he thought I handled everything well. The urge to say "F U" crossed my mind, but then I thought, "Oh if you think that was mature, watch me not respond to you." It's like thank you all for your concern, but I just want to move on and forget anything ever happened.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Back to Square One.

Life was good, exciting, passionate. I was finally busy with school --still am. The last couple months have been better than I could have imaged all because of a boy. It happens to be my ex, and after two years I finally realized he's been there all along waiting for me to notice. But here I am once more telling you how bad things have gotten.

My boy and I are madly in love; it's as simple as that. I've been against the whole idea of getting married until now, and I've found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. We've even talked about it. And why is that so bad you may ask. The thing is we never really told our parents until a week ago. I don't know how many of you are familiar with courting, but it's the type of thing my religion advocates over recreational dating. Courting implies you go to the girl's dad first and ask permission to start pursue his daughter. We kinda skipped that step.

Through a certain event his parents found out. Not good. A meeting was set up between my dad, my boy, and his dad. My dad said yes to the relationship, but both dads wanted to slow things way down. Basically that means put the whole thing on pause for the next two or three years. There is to be no touching. No texting or callling each other. And even thought the parents won't admit it, no hanging out either (even in a group).

This past week has been one of the hardest. Separation isn't an easy thing. He's my best friend too, and now I can't even talk to him about anything that's going on. Most nights I cry myself to sleep because I feel so empty.

Life was looking up --it's about to get worse.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Get Out.

It was an emotional evening, and that's putting it lightly. Tempers flared, tears poured, and all hell broke loose. My sister S., made yet another mistake. She told my parents about it, but was avoiding coming home. Things escalated when my dad couldn't get her to call him. My dad had my mom text her and had me text her. Being the middle child, I always end up being the middle man. The person people communicate through. You know the saying "don't shoot the messenger?" Well I got shot a lot last night. S. finally decided to come home so she could sit down and talk with my dad, so it looked like that worst was over.

Then I got called up. I sat down with my dad, and he asked the question, "If your child was going down a path of destruction, what would you do?" I didn't have an answer. "Someone as smart as you should be able to figure out an answer." I hate it when he says that. Just because I may be smart when it comes to school doesn't mean I have an answer for everything in life. I honestly had no clue what I would have done in that situation, and I don't want to know.

It seemed like everything was fine. M, S, and I all sat in my room talk about theology of all things. We were having a good time too until my dad came down and told us all to go to bed (it was really late). M left right away, but S and I chatted a little more. My mom came in to the room and demanded S and I pack our bags a get out of the house. We were shocked. Surprised. Befuddled. What the hell was going on now? My mom went on to say that my dad was leaving the house because of what was going on, and instead of him leaving it should be us. Sarah started putting up a fight. I, on the other hand, looked at her and told her, "Fine, let's leave." I knew we didn't have anywhere to go, but that didn't matter.

Finally my dad came downstairs. We were able to patch things up enough for S and I to be able to stay. He confessed that it was all his fault. He assumed that S, M, and I were all talking about him. Never assume anything. He couldn't have been more wrong. I'm hurt by this: It's not the first time I've been kicked out of the house.

I know I'm supposed to move on, but it's really hard to forgive and forget.

Maybe the third time will be the charm.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Hesitant Reunion.

I recieved a message this week --a rather unexpected message. "Anyone feeling old enough to call a reunion?" It was sent by a girl, who I went to school with for five years. When she left in seventh grade, she wrote me a lengthy letter letting me know she no longer wanted to be friends with me and not to try to keep in touch with her. Sometime during this past school year, she found me on facebook. We chatted once just after we added each other, and zip nada zilch after that.

This message was sent to some of the few people who comprised our fourth grade class. Why she wants a fourth grade class reunion I will never know. But hers the thing, most of the people who are invited left the school hating my guts. What can I say? I'm a very blunt and honest person --maybe even a tad hot-headed--, so rubbing people the wrong way was inevitable. I haven't talked to anyone who left well . . . since they left.

I have to admit I'm a little intrigued by this: Why not show off what you've got now? You're different. No one's seen you in years. Of course, I have to realize I'm still stuck at the school they've left, and what makes me think any of them have changed what they felt about me?

At first, no one responded to the message, so I thought I was in the clear. *Phew* No one wants to see each other. But now there've been a couple responses, and (what do you know) they're all for it. Except you get the nice little comments such as "I've been doing my best to block it out." The girl saying that means her years at my school.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Belle of the Ball

Disclaimer: I wanted to get away from talking about guys and love and all that jazz for a moment.

It seems like not to long ago I was telling you all about my fabulous Black Tie Affair. I'm already prepping for it again. This time it's going to be in December, so we can all see A White Christmas. I wanted to get a Maggie Sottero dress, but I missed out on my chance. Thankfully there are plenty of other option out there. This year money is not the issue. It's my senior year, so I feel like I should go big or go home. I've always taken the last minute route when it's come to previous, so this year I'm going to take a different approach.

I called a bridal boutique this morning hoping to track down my dream dress, which I have come to learn is now discontinued to make way for the new 2010 prom collection. The lady speaking to me looked up the dress I originally wanted and offered an alternative. So off I went looking at all the new possibilities.

Here are the links to the dresses I'm interested in. I would love to get as much feedback as possible before I order one.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Never Again?

Were Not in wonderland anymore alice Pictures, Images and Photos

It's an odd feeling: I almost don't know how to begin to describe it. Your breath catches; you look around anxiously; your skin begins to crawl. This uncomfortable feeling that overwhelms you and sits between your shoulder blades --a constant reminder. A reminder of how much you never wanted to be in this situation, but here you are. The same situation, the same feeling, the same longing to run away and forget all about. Why are you here again? You should have known better... Now everything is going to be awkward. If only I'd just said no when I had the chance.

As we dance between the thin line of frienda and more than friends, it only becomes clearer to me that I can never ever be the same with him again. His touch is all too familiar, and I still want to jump out of my skin (I don't mean that in a good way). I can't speak up though. I can't say stop or back off or please don't touch me like that. I can't make it clear to him that I don't want to be with him.

I don't know why I promised to hold his hand just to get him to come down to see me, but I wasn't about to not keep my promise. That just opened the flood gate. After that I couldn't get him to stop trying to hold my hand or put his around around my shoulder. I kept wondering what the people in the mall must have thought or do they even notice my rigid walk as the tall blond next to me pulls me closer? Apparently he didn't pay attention to the "f*** off" sign being raised over my forehead.

I was happy to get into the movie theater, so we could just sit and watch a movie. I don't think he really paid any attention to the movie. Did I have to break his arm to keep it off of me? He played with my hand and would not shut up. I demanded to be taken home after the movie was over --I demanded nicely of course. Once I got home, I was almost tempted to rip the long stem red rose he gave me to piece: That might have made me feel better. Friends don't give other friends long stem red roses.

The next day I told him no more. I didn't want to hang out with him for a very particular reason, and he agreed. He claimed that once he turns eighteen things will be different. No, things wont be different. He'll be able to do and get whatever he wants. I'd love to see you try. You're in for a pleasent surprise. Once he's eighteen, he thinks we'll be able to be a couple. Woah there. I think you might have slipped and smacked your head on the pavement. I never said yes to that, and I don't plan on saying yes.


Stop it. Just stop it.

But I suppose this little dance we do will continue for awhile longer.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Is It So Bad?


They say the only thing harder than being in love is being alone.

I’ve thought about this, and I agree and disagree with that statement. I think it varies from person to person. Not everyone is going to take single-life so hard, and some people are going to take being in love like it was the most natural thing ever. There are always two sides to every story. Why does it have to be painful either way: It’s all a matter of point of view.

I think the statement above rings truer with women (not really sure how a guy would take it).

I’ve been around women who are freaking out because they’re thirty and still single. The problem is they don’t try to go meet single guys; they just sit around and hang out with married couples. Great way to meet Mr. Right. But maybe I’m being a little too hard on them. It must be hard watching all of your friends fall in love and walk down the aisle; every year that passes adds to the growing despair. Alone.

Looking at my own personal life, I thought I found love in the eyes of a then sixteen year old boy. Those five months were the best I’ve ever had, and I don’t regret a second of it. I got passed my whole commitment issue: I really did love this boy. Once it was over, I slowly moved on. Of course, it took a lot of distractions to do so. Sometimes I find myself wanting a boy to love, and other times I find myself praying for a lifetime of singlehood.

Maybe in the end both are bittersweet. Perhaps it will be a age-old mystery.

I guess I’m just an adultolescent who’s grabbing in the darkness for the answer. Is it so bad to be in love? Is it so bad to be alone?

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Broken Once Again.


I got my answer, and I didn’t even have to ask. You all may remember the content of my past post Why Worry?; well now I can tell you how it all ends. I decided not to ask J. if he liked me or not. Instead, I went to my dad and informed him that I was interested in J. Of course, my dad already suspected as much. My dad advised me not to do anything about it right now because we are both still young, and J is going off to college.

I thought that made sense, so I did nothing. I hadn’t seen J. for the past couple weeks: I’ve been working, and he’s been on multiple trips. Last Friday (T and J were throwing a grad party) was the first time I’d seen any of my friends in a while. Later on in the evening, J started to be touchy-feely with me –not to say I didn’t like that. He had his arm around me frequently, and I knew he had to like me.

I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing, yet everyone was still cautioning me not to get my hopes up or thinking too much about it. They were right. This morning J came up to me and told me he felt bad about being all touchy-feely with me. “I just want to be friends.”

Anger. Embarrassment. Disappointment. Sadness. Rejection. How could I be so blind? I’m a little mad if he was leading me on the whole time. I’m kicking myself for even beginning to hope that he was different. That I thought something great could come from liking him. But here I sit; hurt all over again. Now I’m glad I don’t see him often, and it’ll be easy to avoid him until he leaves. I won’t have to look into his eyes or feel him wrap his arms around me again. I don't understand why he didn't say anything sooner; this had been an ongoing occurrence.

To top it all off, I might be crazy enough to declare a vow of chastity. We’ll see.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

My Turn.

Death, it’s everywhere we look. It’s all over the news: Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, etc. Those are just the celebrities. There are countless other deaths that are not plastered all over the news and internet. I’ll admit, I’m a little tired of hearing about all of the celebrity deaths.

My grandma’s uncle is dying from cancer right now.

At the end of June, I received news that K’s (do you remember him?) dad passed away. I don’t really know all the details –I was too afraid to ask when I talked to K the day after it happened.

There’s a guy I work with, and his grandson is dying. It’s one of the most tragic stories I’ve heard. Every time he updates us, I want to cry, and I don’t even know his grandson. The story: He (the grandson) was with his friends smoking weed. He decided to take heroine. He took so much that he passed out. The doctors estimate that he had been unconscious for 48 hours before his friends called 911.

R’s grandson is 20 years old and very bright. He been struggling with a drug addiction for the past eight years and tried to kill himself nine times. Before he shot up on heroine, he’d been dry for six or eight months. When you’re addicted to something, all it takes is one more drink, one more puff, or one more injection, and that’s it. It’s over.

He never regained consciousness, but he did react to pain stimuli –not that that shows any sign of brain activity. The doctors took three days to see if they could get his internal organs working again. Then the parents were faced with a horrifying decision: Whether or not to take their son off life support. A choice between life or death. The doctors stepped in and delivered the ultimatum for them. Their son was taken off life support. If he did miraculous recover and come out of the coma, more than likely he’d be a vegetable for the rest of his life. But the organ and brain damage alone were signs that he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. The doctors took all the tubes out of him except for the breathing tube. That was to be kept in until all the family could say good bye to him. After that is taken out, he might have about ten days to live.

Everywhere I look someone dies. I wonder when it’s my turn.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Releasing the Demon.

Have you ever made a resolution and go to bed all set on making it happen then wake up the next day and wonder why you even thought of making that change? It’s like waking up erases it all. Last night was just a moment of weakness or something. I don’t need to do anything.
That’s what it’s like for me on a daily basis. Lately I’ve been struggling with the idea of opening up to my parents. They know me more then I give them credit for: They pick up on things that I don’t even tell friends. They can look into my eyes and see straight through me. They know. But I still try to hide. My dad came to me one night a couple weeks ago and told me he was hurt by some of the bitter joking. I had just found out about some software he had put on the computer that allowed him to see every site we went on. I thought that was an invasion of privacy –A parent should know, but my dad had gone too far. So the anger of knowing came out in my joking.

While we were chatting about the software –his intentions were not to track what I was doing—, he said I shouldn’t have this secret life. A life I felt the need to hide from him. I don’t really have a secret life, just a life they don’t really understand fully. There are things I really don’t want to share with them, which is just about everything. He told me that I had a demon (not like a possession or something weird) inside of me, and that he spent a lot of time in the past years really worried about me.

Sometimes I want to grant him the father-daughter relationship he truly wants. I really thought I could make that happen this time. I woke up.

I go to work now four days a week and I live with my grandparents those four days. I’m not at home a lot anymore, so I stopped feeling the need to talk about be open with my dad. I keep putting up this wall and tell myself it’s ok not to talk to them. The scary part is I think I don’t want to.
But I did.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Time Runs Out.

Tick tock

We finally put ourselves out there –out in the open: Exposed to the point of no return. We forget about all the risks; about all the things that could potentially go wrong. We forget there is a thing called hurt. Everything seems fine and dandy for the moment. For once, happiness isn’t some intangible idea; something thought about, dreamed of, or philosophized. Nothing can go wrong, but then it does.

Tick tock

There could be several ways things spiral out of control: A fight that can’t be taken back, betrayal, feelings that just keep getting in the way, someone hurts you beyond mending, etc. What happens now? This is where the lines blur. Some people bounce right back as if nothing had ever gone wrong. With just a blink of an eye, they’ve moved on. There are some who try to fix whatever happened; who knows if it’s a successful attempt or not. Some use it as a lesson: Another chapter filed away in their Worst Case Scenario Survival Guide to life. Others have no clue what to do. The pain stays under the surface, only coming out in private. There’s a thin sheet of protection that goes over the pain: It serves as a buffer between the pain and everything else.

Tick tock

The sheet of protection appears to be strong, but it’s only a matter of time before something punctures it. Like magma erupting from a volcano, the pain has nowhere to go except burst through that hole. The mess that was supposed to be covered up ends up becoming worse because it was never taken care of. Life shatters around us as if it were made of glass.

Tick tock

Who knows how much time we have left before our protection is broken. It doesn’t matter how many walls we put up: They’re all going to come crashing down. There’s no way to escape it. How much time is left? The walls are crumbling at the foundation. The disguises are becoming transparent. The hurt is about to explode. How much time is left?

Tick tock

Thursday, June 25, 2009


I hear this over and over again, "What are your goals for the summer." I keep thinking about what I want to accomplish, and finally some things start coming to mind.

  • Be more open with my parents (toughest by far).
  • Have a Thesis topic by the end of the summer with good sources.
  • Try to get my life in order.
  • Find someone I'm not afraid to talk to if all else fails with my parents.
  • At least place once at a competition.
  • Get my license.
  • Work at least seven days a week.
  • Follow up to the previous one: Find as much time as possible to spend with friends
  • Figure out what the heck is up with J. before he leaves.

Those are just a couple that I came up with; I'm sure there will be more as the summer progresses. Who knows if I'll be able to accomplish them all by the end of summer, but I'm willing to give it my best.

What are your goals this summer?

Monday, June 22, 2009

Why Worry?

I'll touch on this subject once again: Guys and those pesky, yet lovable things called relationships. The more I think about them, the more the question 'why worry?' flashes across my mind. We spend so much time worrying over guys, which ones like us, which ones don't, or who's cute or not. We get so caught up in thinking about having a relationship. Trust me, I sound critical, but I'm one of those girls who has one to many romantic ideals. Every romantic movie I see or book I read just makes me want to find someone special that much more, which makes me worry that much more.

Does he like me? Maybe I'm misreading the signals. Are there any signals? Once again I am swept away by a guy; he was in the play with me this year, and I really spent a lot of time with him. It kind of made attraction inevitable. Of course, I thought he only considered me as a friend or at least I thought so until the beginning of summer. I went to a party at a friend's house to burn a bunch of school papers we no longer wanted. He was at the party. Instantly he was at my side and put his arm around my waist, even though, there we were standing in a group. When we all went out to the fire, he did the same thing. We just stood there holding each other by the waist. He was the one who dropped my sister and I off at home, but not without hugging me twice before I went inside. I asked my sister if she thought he liked me: She said no.

Since then it's been the same sort of situation: Instead of hugging me, he holds me (multiple times I might add). If we're in a group, he often moves to stand next to me. Then there are the times were he holds me by the waist. I really want to say he likes me, yet I'm hesitant to make the assumption. It obvious to everyone else and their dogs that I like him. Does he realize that? I asked my older sister what she thought. After hearing what's been going on, she said J. was just a touchy-feely guy, so it might not be anything. After discussing the subject with B. (a girl in his class), she said he's never really done that with any other girl. Well this is confusing.

I'm waiting for him to say something. At the same time, I'm realizing he might not say anything. He's leaving for college at the end of the summer, and there are other things that complicate the matter. I won't go into detail. Knowing this, I shouldn't get all worried. Right?

Saturday, June 13, 2009

18 Year Old Rebellion.


I didn't want things to get to this point so soon. In the words of my dad, "You're in a funk. What's wrong?" I paste a smile on my face and assure him that I'm just fine. No need to worry. Or is there? I've been really angry lately: Angry at everyone. Mostly at my parents though. It all started with me wanting to wear a pair of shorts; my dad almost had a heart attack when I was about to walk out of the house. This is when I discovered that having long legs are, in fact, a curse. So it looks like I'll be wearing jeans all summer. I'm just waiting for them to finally decide that skinny jeans are no longer appropriate attire as well. I don't see what the issue is; it's not like I'm going out of the house looking like a total slut or something. But my dad's reason is, "I'm doing this to protect you and your reputation." Eventually I'm might accept that. I know he probably means well.

Since then it's been a constant battle with everyone --or just my family. I miss being around everyone: I don't want to sit at home and just hang around the family. At the end of school, I thought it would be great not to have to see anyone until September. Wrong. The first week of summer break I spent everyday with friends from school. Now I'm look ahead thinking this is the only month I have to hang out with everyone. Starting in the middle of July, I'm moving in with my grandparents because of I job I got. I'll maybe come home on weekends. That really depends on whether or not I get a part time job at this kennel my sister works at. It already feels like I have to say good bye to everyone, and summer is ending.

Am I in a funk? Definitely yes.

Why am I angry? I really have no clue. I don't know. Is it possible to just be angry --to be sad for no reason? I think I'm using most of what I said at the beginning of this blog as an excuse, or using it as fuel for a fire that was already there. I've got to get over this somehow because it's now ruining the good start to my summer.


That was me a couple days ago. I've forgotten how bad my mood swings can be; now I'm happy and up beat and loving most everything. One thing I realized after I snapped out of my funk is how overrated 18 year old rebellion is. Do we expect anything to be accomplished by it? If you do, I'm sorry to say nothing ever is accomplished by being rebellious --at any age really.

My dad recently told me a story about this girl, who was angry at her parents because they wouldn't let her go out late at night. She went to her friend's house hoping to stay the night, but her friend's mother told the girl to go back home and, basically, obey her parents. The girl left her friends house with no intention of going home. In the neighborhood, she ran into the wrong guy: The girl ended up dead. Yes, this doesn't happen every time we're rebellious, but this is the exact thing our parents are trying to protect us from. So my not being able to wear shorts is probably one of the best things my parents can do for me.

This epiphany couldn't have come at a better time, but this doesn't mean I'm going to be the perfect kid in the meantime. I still have a long way to go, and I'm ready to work at changing. If I want to be considered and treated like an adult, I'm going to have to act maturely. Rebellion only shows your parents and the people around that you actually immature.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.

Art is how I escape. When I'm sketching, I'm in my own reality and creating a story behind the pictures. Lately, I've been trying to escape as often as I can. Anime is not the only thing I like to draw, but right now it's one of my favorites: It's different. The eyes are a whole heck of a lot easier to draw than human eyes haha. Someone recently asked me what my favorite thing about drawing was. I told him my favorite part was when I was beginning to shade in whatever I'm drawing. In the beginning stage most of the drawing is still white with only (let's say) the clothes shaded in. It looks as if the picture is slowly coming to life.Most of these pictures take me about a week to a day to finish; it really depends on how long I can go without being disturbed. The one above was my first anime drawing, and it took my a day to finish. I'll probably switch things upon later one this summer and draw some more complicated subjects. I think it was last summer that I printed out these amazing pictures of the Seven Deadly Sins, so I think I will actually try to finish them all this summer.

My dad wanted me to draw him something for his office, but I can hardly imagine this hanging on his wall. I chose this one to give to him because it reminded me of myself and two other sisters. Starting from left to right, me, M., and S. The eldest is not pictured, but the last picture kinda reminds me of her. Each of the girls reminds me of our different personalities. The joke would be that we're all in uniform.
Don't worry this one is supposed to be upside down. You all should try this sometime: Take a picture and draw it upside down. Of course, you'll have t leave it that way because the picture will look wrong if you flip it right side up. I have to give credit to Mrs. H. She taught me how to sketch in 9th grade. Since then I haven't had an art class, which is why I stick to pencil instead of color. But I wouldn't mind becoming somewhat of a Jackson Pollock; although, I don't know how people would respond to more paintings like that. I might try that this summer too; it would be fun.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

How Will You Be Remembered?


I don't mean after you die, but more after you leave high school. This is the summer of my Senior year, and I have to face all sorts of questions. The biggest one is: How will I be remembered? I have some big shoes to fill thanks to the Class of 2009. I love them to death and wish they weren't leaving, and, yet, I'm eager to take my place as a Senior. Not only am I eager, but I'm also scared. A lot of change has to take place over the summer. I have to abandon my "Loner" status. I can't sit back passively and watch my Senior year go by without leaving my mark.

I now have to get to know everyone in the secondary. This means the annoying sevies and wedgies. I can't stand junior high immaturity, so we'll see how this goes. I have to get outside of my comfort zone and be a leader. It has pissed me off so much that M. (a girl in my class) has gotten all the attention. She's the go-to-girl. To be honest, no one really notices what I notice: Her whole show is somewhat fake. Now I didn't come on here to disrespect a classmate, but to tell you what I'm up against. I'm the scary, silent type. You see me walk down the halls, and I don't have a smile plastered to my face. When my face is relaxed, I look like I'm about to kill people. I can't really help that one. But that's what people assume: That I'm mad at everyone. They don't know me. So this summer is a perfect time to let the secondary get to know the real LonelyHeart. Well --they'll know me to a certain extent. No one really knows me. Not even M., who's known me for the past ten years.

But I don't want this year to be a big rivalry between M. and I. I don't want it to be that way; although, to some extent she's already made it that way. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?
My second concern is the Junior class --my sister's class. I'm not really concerned about her, but more three other girls in that class. They're the ones who will try to take over the Senior position, and that can't happen.

I'm just nervous about so much changing, and so quickly too. I have to do a complete 180 if this next school year is going to be my year. I'm excited and scared. Part of me says, "Bring it on," and part of me says,"Holy crap! What am I getting in to?" It all comes down to how do I want to be remembered. I want to be remembered as someone who was fun to hang out with, but someone you could turn to for anything. I don't want to be that person who people feel was just putting on a show: I don't want to be fake. I want other students to look at me and say that they were glad they knew me; that somehow I changed they're lives a little bit. I want so much from my Senior year.

How do I get it all done?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

I'll Just Keep Things To Myself.

Maybe it's just me, but does it make you mad when your own siblings go through your stuff and think they can take whatever they want without asking? I'll admit I've had times where I've done that. Now I know just how annoying it can be. I've ignored this stealing ever since my older sister moved back in a couple months ago. But yesterday I decided no more. I'm not just going to stand there while she goes through my closet when I leave or when I find my undergarments in her stuff. She has more clothes then I will ever own, and yet she thinks she needs my stuff too.

So I got angry when I saw she took one of my swimsuits without asking. And of course her thinking is I can't be mad at her for stealing stuff, but she can get mad at me if I wear something of hers. And the stuff I wear that she owns are mostly just white camis. I stay away from all of her expensive Ed Hardy stuff. Well that didn't put my in a good mood for the cast party last night. When I got home, I wanted to get the whole thing off my chest. I starting texting P. (not the one from TN) thinking he would be there for me.

I was wrong. Instead he's telling me he'll give me a hug if I'm nice to S. I said no thank you. Then he tells me to kill him first if I ever go crazy. By then I was pissed off. Is this how he expected to help me? He was being inconsiderate: I was finally opening up to him like he always wanted me to, and this is what I get. Next he wanted me to sneak out and meet him. NO! I just said he was out of his mind, and good night.

I tried. I really wanted someone I could talk to about what I hide inside. It looks like that will never happen. I think it's just better if I keep things to myself from now on. It just works better that way. He was feeling things that I don't know if I felt. I mean things that go past the realm of just being friends. Is it time to just grow apart? Or just try to salvage what we still have? It's kind wierd how something so simple can lead to something this complicated. Either way I choose is going to be heard. Can I handle it.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

This is the Oldest I've Ever Been.

Today's the day: The day I turn 18. Hello adulthood, or at least I think. Do I feel any older? No. Am I supposed to? I'm not so sure. But this past weekend has been absolutely fabulous. At a school thing, I got surprised with a cake, a giant cookie, and a balloon. Everyone started singing happy birthday, and I didn't get who they were singing to until they said my name. Another surprise that night was P. He finally texted me again. Apparently his phone got run over too.

The next day, I spent cramming for finals, and then it was off to see a play with my dance teacher, M., and J. The play was amazing! I couldn't have asked for a better evening. We went out to dinner before the play, and I tried calamari for the first time. It was actually really good.

Memorial Day was devoted to finals. I still don't feel prepared, and now I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed with how much I still have to study. I have my English and Math finals today, and to top it all off I got zero hours of sleep last night. I couldn't sleep, but got kinda sleepy, and then was wide awake. I ended up getting out of bed at 4:30 to take a shower. I'm not in for a very good day. And what better way to spend your birthday then at school taking hour and a half long tests that could potentially make or break your grade. Just perfect. On the bright side, I just have to make it through two more days.

Well once school is out I'm hoping to blog a lot more. Sorry for not posting in such a long time.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Where Do I Begin?

A little over a week ago my sister came up to visit for the first time in a year. I had some worries that she would get her, and I would see her, and things wouldn't be the same. I was also sad that once she arrived, I only got to see her for an evening, then I was being whisked away to Regionals in a different state. I didn't know if that was evening was the only time I was going to have with me sister. I waited up until almost midnight just to spend at least an hour with her. I heard her voice from my room, and ran up to see her. It was as if she had never left.

She was so gorgeous even after a long flight. She couldn't get over how tall C. was getting, and how deeps his voice had gotten. To her, it was just yesterday he was barely up to her shoulders and still had a high voice. After some catching up, we broke out the pie, and started talking about stuff that she remembered from the last time she was here. I practically had to drag her downstairs to show her pictures from the play, so I could at least get some sleep that night.


I left Friday with mt dance teacher and another dancer. On the way down, we listened to Sundays at Tiffany's, which is insanely interesting, and I was very sad I didn't get to finish it. We got to our hotel, and K. left for a meeting, so M. and I were on our own for dinner. I was doing really well at keeping myself calm; whereas, M. was already flipping out about the competition on Saturday. Once J got to the hotel, we all decided to go dip our feet in the hot tube. We all just laid there dangling out feet in the relaxing warn water. Pictures were taken of this, and I ended up falling asleep.

I woke up still feeling calm: I got ready and went down to breakfast. I managed to eat at least half of what I got, but then the nerves started hitting me a little bit. I wasn't competing until one, so I didn't know what the deal was. My whole family called to wish me good luck, and that made me really happy. I had already prepared myself mentally for not placing: My class was, without a doubt, the toughest group to compete with. I had to dance up with the 18 and Over class because I turned 18 before June 1st. So we're talking about me, a newbie, competing against twelve other talented dancers, who have all been to Nationals before, and some have even gone on to win at the Championship. I was taking this competition as a learning experience. Not mention I was sick, and that wasn't a great thing to throw into the mix.

I gave it my all, and sometimes your all just isn't good enough. The one thing that made up for it all was this: I had just finished the Reel and was getting myself ready to fill-in for another one. I was waiting backstage when two other dancers come running back and start taking their numbers off. Something was wrong on stage, but I had no idea what. Through a rush of events, I ended up rushing on stage to bail out another dancer, who couldn't breath. I made sure she was ok once I got offstage again. Turns out she had a cold too.

I sat there and cheered on three of the girls I danced with who got awards. Two of those girls are going to Nationals. I was SO happy for them. I thought is was better to be happy for everyone else, then to sit there and cry about how bad I did. It's not my time to go to Nationals yet. Someday --- someday I'll make it.

Back home:

Monday night I finally got to see my sister again and her friend T., who I hadn't seen since last year February. We watched Bride Wars and The Duchess (which is no one of my favorite movies). S. almost ruined the whole night with her bitchy attitude. The next morning I said good bye to my sister because I wouldn't get to see her again before she left.

Coming to the present, I've been pretty sick since Wednesday when I got a horrible migraine, which triggered the nausea that never went away. I woke up Thursday, and couldn't even move: My whole body hurt. After sleeping in till one, I felt a little better, but couldn't stand for long periods of time. This was really bad considering I had a school concert that night, and I was singing a solo. The good news is I toughed things out, made it through the concert, and sang my solo. No one even new I was feeling nauseated.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Duke - MakeBelieve

(The Duke and Dauphin)

The play was simply spectacular: I'm so happy I decided to try out for it. The cast became my second family, and I'm going to miss spending hours with them after school every day. It's been a long journey, but a rewarding one. The play could not have gone better. Three of the performances were completely sold out. This kinda raised the stakes though.

I had one nervous break down the day before opening night. During the one of the songs, I have to jump off of a flat that is four feet into the air. Did I mention there are four of us on that flat? Plus, we're jumping over someone who is pretending to be asleep. I wanted to practice jumping off before we did a run through, but I couldn't do it. I just stood up there freaking myself out. I had K come up and jump with me, and even then I couldn't do it. Then J. came and kinda gave me a pep talk. The three of us were supposed to jump off together, but, once again, I couldn't jump off. By this time I was so nervous about not being able to do this simple thing once the time came. Eventually my director came over and was going to help me jump off; I fell apart. I ran off stage crying. I felt very embarrassed. My director found me and offered an alternative instead of jumping, but I wasn't ready to take the easy way out. The good news is I jumped off for every performance.

I loved being the Duke; even though, it meant I had to be a man. The makeup artist had fun trying to make me look more manly, and when she was finished she would say, "You look so pretty...I mean handsome." I couldn't take myself seriously in the makeup until I put on the costume. The side burns were hilarious though, and ripping them off was even better. I even dyed my hair to match them. I didn't know how great it was to be somebody different on stage. Once I was on stage it wasn't me who was acting: I was the Duke.

The cast had so much fun back stage. We would mouth the words to every song and dance if we knew the choreography. Of course, then there were the numerous "dance parties" we had while getting our makeup done. Did I mention how many inside jokes we started? I would share, but I'm afraid none of you would get them haha.
Some of the time E. and I had to pretend to have conversations until our lines came, so we would start talking about what we were going to do once we bought the pixie dust, and how we were going to steal Billy's watch, then it turned into us mouthing, "Watermelon jello chocolate peanut butter." One of us would respond, "No not the chocolate. I can't eat that." Both of us are lactards.

(product of one of the inside jokes)
(We're home!)

(Stroking the facial hair)

After the last performance, the guys take down the set, and the girls take care of the costumes. While the guys were still working, a bunch of us stood around talking and having a great time joking around. I think at one point we all broke out into the hokey-pokey. Of course, by then it was midnight. I met one of J's friends, Stevie (I'll use his nickname because it's nowhere near his actual name). We actually hit it off and spent most of the night talking. I drove with him to the school and then to Denny's. At Denny's, I crashed: The endorphins completely wore off, and I wanted to go to sleep so bad. But then the food came, so that made everything all better. Who knew breakfast at 2 a.m. could taste so good? Stevie came over to sit with me; I ditched him shortly after we got to Denny's to go sit with my sister. Well I wouldn't say ditched: I was sharing food with my sister, and I hate eating in front of people especially guys. Around 3 we all decided it was time to go home. Hugs and good byes were exchanged (multiple times I might add), and then T. drove my sister and I home. I almost fell asleep in the car.

So now I find myself having MakeBelieve withdrawals and talking about group therapy with the cast. It's hard to believe the sort of attachment and bond that forms during rehearsals. All the years I wasn't in the play, I hated everyone who was in it. The reason for that was mostly because they had what I wanted. They were a family and had so much fun together. This year I finally got the chance to be apart of that, and I loved every minute. I got to know the cast so well and developed friendships I never thought possible. It also gave me a chance to show them a side of me that no one has ever seen before. I just wish it wasn't over yet.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Ugly Duckling.


I feel so ugly lately. I have my good days, which are few and far between. But the more I look in the mirror, the more I hate how I look. I just feel out of place with everyone else. I look at my sister S., she's absolutely gorgeous, and she knows it. She's so confident. So perfect. Perfect hair, perfect body, perfect face, perfect smile, perfect everything. I keep telling her she's the one who got all the looks in the family; she just laughs. But she knows it's true. She's the one every one's after (especially guys). Just an example, there was this one guy I talked to a lot and really liked. One day we were talking, and he mentioned he like my sister S. That hurt. I'm tired of trying to keep up with her.

Let's start talking about the girly stuff. If there are any guys reading my blog, I'd turn back now.

There's a lot of talk to days about being fit, and what the perfect body shape is. My body is around model skinny, which goes great with my height (yeah...right). For awhile it hasn't really bothered me, and I'm not really interested in gaining a lot of weight. But, let's be frank, with a skinny physic I have no assets. Yes, girls, you know what I'm talking about. It's so annoying, especially when my sister makes fun of me for it: This, at least, I manage to laugh off. The jokes aren't really jokes; they speak the truth.

Let's move on to my smile. My teeth are horribly crooked: It's ridiculous. I can't tell you how many people especially little kids make comments about them. "Why don't you get braces." I've heard that so much it's not even funny. You want to give me the money for that? Go ahead, be my guest. I've pretty much stopped smiling with my teeth showing. The only time I do is if I'm far enough away from the camera, and I can look straight on.

How can you look at me when I can't stand myself?

I can't tell you how glad I am that P. has really only seen pictures so far. I'm so scared that once we're in person, he'll realize how horrifying I really am. They say you're your own toughest critic. Does it really matter what others think if you're not comfortable with yourself? I'm ready to put a paper bag over my head and call it an instant makeover.

How do you start being confident and comfortable with how you look?

Thursday, April 9, 2009


How many of us use words like these to bring others down? How many of us hear these words on a regular basis? Maybe they aren't these exact words: Maybe they're little comments, a look someone gives us, or the angry tirades of friends and family members. How far are we willing to go to make other people feel worthless? No one likes feeling worthless. No one. Making people feel worthless has an affect on how they view themselves.

I was standing behind the couch watching The Hills with my sisters M. and S. My phone alerted that I just received a text. I look down, and it's from P., so immediately I have a huge smile on my face (I can't help it). S. looks over at me and asks who I was texting. Oh come on S., like you can't tell. The smile on my face totally gives it away. I didn't respond, and just kept smiling. Somehow my smiling set her off: Don't ask me how. Right away I was being accused of being a skank. I stood there. Then she started bring up my past to the point where I couldn't just stand there anymore.

I started to defend myself, which only got M. involved. She sided with S. I felt so attacked by them; they didn't know anything, and here they are accusing me of stuff and bring up my past. "Oh my gosh Lonely Heart, don't take things so personally. I was only teasing." Excuse me?! Oh so I was supposed to just laugh this off while you call me a skank. Sure, S. Sure. There was nothing in the tone of her voice that would lead me to believe she was teasing. And what she was bring up was not teasing material. She crossed the line and thought she could cover things up with the lame excuse of teasing.

You don't bring up some one's past for the sake of good-old fashioned-humorous fun. I'm sorry, but in my book that's not the way things work, so I beg your pardon for defending myself.

I stood there for another minute or two. She gave me a smug look and turned her attention to the TV. In the solitude of my room, I shed a few tears, took a deep breath, and tried not to let what she said bug me so much. It's hard not to let things that my sisters say not get under my skin especially when they gang up on me. And my futile attempts to defend myself always fail. It's like nothing I do or say can make them stop. Do they enjoy making me feel like nothing? Like I'm worthless?

Why do people feel the need to say horrible things about others? Ever heard of what goes around come around? Is it really that fun to pick on other people?

Sunday, April 5, 2009


I have to speak up about something that has been bothering me a lot lately: Abortion. I know some people are tired of hearing about this and just want women to have their own choice and be done with the matter, but I'm not about the stand here and let millions of children die. Since when do we have to right to say who is human and who isn't? Who the hell do we think we are? That a woman can get pregnant and decide the baby isn't worth keeping. What's worse is if the woman finds out her child has a disability and decides to abort the pregnancy. What is the world coming to?

If you're going to engage in premarital sex, then you're going to risk getting pregnant. I hear abstinence is a great way to avoid getting pregnant if you don't want to have kids just yet. Why not put the baby up for adoption if you really don't want him/her that bad? It's way better then killing the child because, let's be honest, abortion is murder. I don't care how many reasons you have justifying abortion.

The newest form of abortion is the partial birth abortion. This sickens me.
Here are some diagrams detailing what happens during a partial birth abortion. Or here's the latest way to murder your child: Telling a nurse to go put the newborn baby in the morgue. The baby is left there for hours until he/she dies. How inhumane is that? Here's a link on the negative effects abortion has on women. Personally, I think many people over look the effects of abortion. Just because a woman has the choice, doesn't mean it's the right thing to do.

I wanted to find this one article written about the legalization of murdering unwanted wives. It was a satire on abortion and took it to the extreme to show how wrong abortion really is. But I will just have to settle with giving you all the link to A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.

On March 31, my sister and I participated in Red Envelope Day. An empty red envelope was to be sent to President Obama. Each red envelope represents a child that died because of an abortion. On the back of the envelope, we were supposed to write, "This envelope represents one child who died because of an abortion. It is empty because the life that was taken is now unable to be a part of our world." Together, my sister and I went to the mailbox, prayed over the envelopes, and put them in.

Think about this, how would you feel if you were unwanted?

Friday, April 3, 2009

I'm a Revolution

Tagged by Alayna Whisper

Flashback Time:

I was born on May 26 at 4:00 in the afternoon. I almost died in the womb (see my post Take a Walk With Me for more details). I'm the middle child with two older sisters and a younger sister and brother. To be honest, I don't really remember much of my childhood.

At age 7 or so, I remember wanting to play with one of my older sisters, and she told me, "I hate you. Go away." At that point in my life, my family had been living with my grandparents for a couple years. I remember my dad force feeding my peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Little did he know that when he left the kitchen I threw it away. I discovered my left eye wasn't really "working," so I had to get glasses and wear a patch to make my left eye stronger. We bought our first house.

At age 9, I went to PCCS after two years of homeschooling. I started as a 3rd grader and ended up in 2nd grade. My parents decided 3rd grade was a little too hard for me. I was the only girl until after Christmas, when M. joined my class (she's the one in the bright blue dress from my last post).

Skipping ahead, ages 11-15 can be summed up in one word: Drama. Let's have three cheers for the teenage years =/. I had the problem with being impulsive and too opinionated, which caused three girls to hate me with a passion. And at least two of them still do. One notable thing about age 13 was a little thing people like to call depression. That affected my life so much, and there are things I wish I could erase. In 2004, my Uncle lost his battle with leukemia at the age of 32: The funeral was held just days after my family moved into the house we're currently living in.

Nothing special about age 16. I didn't feel any different: I didn't even have a party. I found out I was lactose intolerant aka a lactard. I decided on massage therapy for a career. Oh and I got my permit.

Now for the amazing year when I turned 17. A lot has happened both good and bad. I kinda don' t know where to begin --friend problems, guys, school, etc. Life in a sense blew up in my face so to speak. The best thing I did was get this blog. I "met" P. over the summer as you all know. Yeah I could go on, but that would be boring.

Well this was probably an epic fail, but it's really hard to remember things. And I'm sure once I post this a million memories will come flooding back.

Without further ado I tag: Lenore, Jocelyn, Roxy Motion, and Wandering Child

I just got a twitter, so if you have one let me know.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

A Black Tie Affair.

On March 28, my school had an event called Protocol. I usually end up describing it as like Prom just without the dancing. But in reality, it's nothing like Prom. We go out to a nice restaurant and then out to a play. Sounds like good fun right? Here's the catch: We get assigned escorts. After all, it's not meant to be a dating situation. It's nerve wracking standing there and seeing the envelops being handed out to the guys. Who know's who you'll end up with. This year I was fortunate enough to have O. be my escort. He was great!

We all went out to eat at the Georgian Room and then to see Hello Dolly. The food was simply amazing, and the play was hilarious. Compared to last year, my night was perfect. I've known O. for awhile, but I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him one on one. It wasn't awkward at all (he's usually pretty quiet). We shared some good laughs and talked about random stuff.
I didn't want the evening to ever end: It all seemed to surreal. When I got home, it was so hard to take off the dress, wash the makeup off, and brush out my hair. A bunch of us go to the same church, so we had the crazy idea to where our dresses and tuxes. I had the time of my life, and if I could relive one day of my life this would be it.

So here are some of the pictures that were taken throughout the evening. Enjoy = ]
The tenacious Three - Junior girls

"The Great Gatsby"

I was going for the 1940s look (R. and I)

O. and I at our table

I haven't had a lot of time to get on here, so I'm sorry. But I have Spring break next week = D. I'll will hopefully be blogging a little more: I have a lot to talk about.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

You Can't Trust Everyone.


I really can't believe what just happened; I feel so bad for my sister. In my last post, I told you all that she potentially got this amazing nannying job this summer. Plans were being finalized, and things looked like they were going to work out perfectly. The family was from London, and they were coming over to edit a film. Then the woman, Sara(h) Wilson, was going to send my sister a check from which she was going to deduct her first months pay and wire the rest back to Sara(h)'s agent.

My dad started to think something was up. Who would let their one year old some be watched five days a week at a complete stranger's house? As it turns out, something was up.

At work this morning, My dad started talking to one of his co-workers about the situation: He thought something something was up too, so he started to check things out. The whole nanny job was a complete scam. The website my sister posted the ad on has recently had a lot of problems with this. My dad's boss look at the check, and there were numbers missing on the bottom. If my sister would have cashed the check, and sent to remaining amount to the agent, the check would have bounced. My sister would have have owed the bank a lot of money that she doesn't have.

We're so lucky we caught this when we did. I'm am so angry about this right now. This is another prime example of the depravity of human nature. You can't trust anyone, and I would really like to trust people. I trust people till they give me a reason not to. And my dad is reminding all of us that you have to be a little suspicious of people you meet.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Thinking Ahead.


Right now I'm putting off writing a paper on Uncle Tom's Cabin: I'm tired, and the creative juice just aren't flowing. This weekend has been a busy one. Saturday I had a competition, and right after my last dance I had to book it to Drama. We were practicing some of our dances in a studio, so we could see ourselves in the mirrors. The rehearsal was really fun; I'm just exhausted and sore.

For some reason I've been thinking about life after high school. It's probably because there's less then three months till school's done, SATs are coming, and since the summer is almost here, it's time to find a job. There are certain goals I've set for myself this summer: 1. Get a good paying job 2. Somehow make it to Tennessee. My sister potentially just got an amazing nannying job this summer, and I'm thinking about doing the same thing. I've been a nanny before, so it's right up my ally. Going to Tennessee serves two purposes, USIR is being held there this year, and it would give me a chance to meet P. (it's been awhile since I brought him up).

I'm considering being a live-in nanny because that would open up job opportunities, but we'll see what my parents think.

Now for what's been on my mind for a long time. I've always wanted to move somewhere different after college. It's time for a change, and I can always come back home if things really don't work out. I'm really thinking about moving to Texas. This is partly because my sister already lives there: At least I wont be so alone and helpless. Plus, I could live with her until I got settled down.

Why Texas? I really don't have any other reasons for going there of all places. It being warm there definitely helps. The idea just feels right. My parents wont exactly be thrilled, but I still have time to get things all figured out. I don't have to have everything planned out this second.