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.

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.

http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99111
http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99112
http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99121

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.

Screams

Stop it. Just stop it.

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

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?

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.

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.

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.