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.

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.

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.

Regionals:

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.

(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.

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?

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?

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.
http://www.nrlc.org/ABORTION/pba/diagram.html
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. http://www.abortionfacts.com/literature/literature_928YC.asp. 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.
http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html


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?