Don't forget, don't forget

Well here it goes. The truth. 100%. Just my thoughts. My feelings. My stubborn attitude. My inability to let go of whatever it is you bring to the table. Here it is. Still. Several days and a whole "relationship" after the fact. My care that I wish I didn't give.

So. I love you.

Even when you're driving me crazy because you're confused and you don't understand what you're doing wrong, I still love you.

You made me brownies and even though I had told you a million times how much I didn't like brownies, I still loved you. I just laughed. It made me smile. You ALWAYS made me smile.

And sometimes I wonder what it was that ended us. I know we argued a lot, I agree that wasn't the way relationships should be, but why was that? I think it was a combination of two people having trouble trusting the other. I was always afraid that you didn't care and you were always afraid that I couldn't be trusted (for understandable reasons, at that, I wasn't exactly always the most innocent). But it was a vicious circle. With time you cared less because you thought I didn't care because I was constantly flirting with others, but the only reason I was flirting with others was because I thought you didn't care about me.

Now tell me why THAT picture is screwed up.

Because the bottom line is...I know you care. I know you do. You always did and you know when I realized that?

The other day my friends were looking through my stuff, like always and they came across your card. One of them and it was all perfect (in your typical fashion) and I realized, you know, no matter what someone who doesn't care doesn't do that. Someone who doesn't care doesn't put in that thought. That time. If I know anything about you, it's the importance of time management and I take up time and you still stayed by my side. You wouldn't have stayed around if you didn't care and it's time I believe that.

So I ended up flirting with boys because I was scared that you didn't care. I was too blind to see that you did.

So here it is--all out in the open. I love you. Sure, I could just pretend otherwise and continue on with whatever it is I usually continue on with OR I could just jump. Let you know. Here it is. Here I am. I'm sorry I wasn't trustworthy. I'm sorry I never believed in you. I'm sorry I never let you know that in reality I actually did believe in you. Because, in reality, I did not want to be with anyone else. I still don't. And I can't convince myself otherwise anymore. I've spent a lot of time pretending I wanted to be with other guys. Just accepting them. "He's nice. So. I'll give him a chance."

It wasn't like that with you. I just wanted to be with you. Period. And I still do. Period.

You could make me brownies 1000 times and I would still love you. And I mean that in the least gay way possible.

Must be:

Funny
Sarcastic
Able to understand my sarcasm 150% of the time
Kind
Compassionate
Intelligent (which means that he must have a basic understanding of grammar with high understanding in mathematics and science and/or high understanding in grammar and basic or minimal understanding in mathematics and science)
Respectful (he must understand why I don't want to have sex, he must respect my beliefs, he must respect my family, my mother, father, sister, friends, life in general)

He must like me, a lot.

He shouldn't have to think about it.

He shouldn't be afraid of me.

He should be able to tell me the truth.

I should be able to trust him from the start.

He should respect me enough to tell me the truth.

It was one of the first things I told him. "I have trouble trusting and I want to trust you, but you have to be honest with me or else it will never work." I am not a jealous person. I am not, but break my trust and you can say goodbye to me ever having faith in you again. This is true. About 80% of the time. Which is why my feelings towards you make no sense.

You first had to "think" about dating me.

Then you told me kissing me "felt wrong" which not only made me feel stupid, but also made me question your intentions and the person you really were.

Later, you constantly put me at the bottom of your priorities.

You almost broke up with me in the beginning of August. You didn't and I took you back, happily. (WTF?)

I told you I loved you. You told me you had to think about it.

You came up to visit me at college with a tin of brownies (I have always, will always, hate brownies) and then we argued about Jake...again. Because you didn't trust me.

And then you broke up with me. Explained how at home you felt less pressured without me there. I felt like a rapist. Fucking shit. Sure, making you uncomfortable became almost a sport for me, but it was only a sport. It was never a serious feeling.




You made me brownies. And I still loved you.


Eighty percent of our relationship you were making brownies for me and I was still loving you. Twenty percent of our relationship you were being a wonderful boyfriend. You were making me feel special. You were just being the lovely person that I wanted so badly to be a part of and you were letting me be a part of it. I can remember moments, play by play, when you were perfect and you didn't even know it.

You whispered, "Excuse me honey" once and I actually died.

Alanah saw it.

You know in old language and phrases how the word swoon is used? Like, women would swoon all the time. Just drop into the arms of men, because obviously they are unable of doing anything else. It sounds really gay, but it's true. Women would "swoon."

I had never swooned before that moment. It was like, you just said one thing and suddenly I felt weak in the knees and I considered fainting. (I didn't of course because that would be ridiculous.) But after so many years of laughing at the idea of "swooning" I finally did. And I felt dumb. But I couldn't even help it.

And I think that's the key. No matter how gay it is, my guy should be able to make me swoon, so easily. Just like that. You called me honey and I broke into a million little pieces, all over Josh's carpet. And there was no one there to put me back together because you didn't come back to that place enough. There was the time during ten minute plays, when I saw you and you were so excited to see me.

I swooned then too.

Or after senior banquet when you called me amazing.

Yup, then too.

But every time, I just kept breaking up inside. Happily, uncontrollably and then this side would disappear from your personality and no one would be there to pick me up. So I would just sit there. Broken. On the carpet. Probably crying because by this point I would be upset, again that you didn't seem to care, but there it is.

Must be:

Able to be one person at all times. Make me swoon. Pick up the pieces afterwards and hold me, comfort me, so that I form back together as a person and know you'll be back after you leave. I'm so sick of turning around for a split second and then turning back around to find you gone, again.

So must stay in one place and be one person. That's all I'm asking for the next one. One place, one person, because I've only got one heart and I'm really sick of people messing with it.

Hey you, it's been awhile, I miss our walks, our talks, things are changing, where's the one of whom I fell in love?

^Those song lyrics are mine incidentally. I wrote this song over a year ago. About someone else. However, I keep finding that many breakup songs can fit the situation over and over and over again. This one is particularly personal, but I still find that parts of it work for many different situations.

It's basically a song about a guy and a girl who are good friends, date briefly and then the guy just disappears from her life. "Where's the one of whom I fell in love?" Other important lines include, "Hey boy, won't you meet me by the beach wall, we'll take a walk there and maybe we'll even figure out," and "We were way in over our heads and you would follow where you were led and we could never find the right route, I only wanted to help you out, so take a step back and then you'll see all the bullshit you gave to me, you took me in, you spat me out."

And I wrote this over a year ago. I really should just become a psychic and call it a day. Get an office. Put up my name in neon lights on the door, fill the room with incense and beaded...items and spew bullshit from my mouth on a daily basis.

That's beside the point.

More important than love this song is about friendship. It's about relationships screwing up all that's good. We were friends. We liked each other. And I don't mean that in a sexual or lovey dovey way. We liked each other's company. Or else I liked your company. WE WERE FRIENDS. Where'd that go?

RULE #1: RELATIONSHIPS SCREW UP THE BEST OF FRIENDSHIPS...LIKE BIG TIME.

I had a dream last night. It was simple, much like many of my dreams and you were in it and you were talking to me and you were stressed. You just needed a friend and I was there and I wanted to be there and, more importantly, you WANTED ME THERE. It was exciting and new and I felt happy and then I woke up and realized it was a dream and felt...sad.

We were friends. Good friends. I hate when things get screwed up.

AND THAT'S ALL I WANT. I realized that. Yesterday. I realized it's not about our relationship, it's not about how it didn't work, it's not about your religion, my religion, our differences, it's not about your homework or my spontaneity, it's not about band or chorus or the piano or your plays or my music or any other FUCKING thing in this world. IT'S ABOUT OUR FRIENDSHIP. That's why I'm sad. I became friends with you. I liked you. I liked being around you. You made me feel better. You knew how to make me feel better. Even if you didn't realize it and I liked that. And now that's gone. And hey, I'll be okay, it's not like my world is gonna come crashing down but it's a comfort thing. I liked you there.

But you're gone. And you don't seem to miss my company and that really hurts. Because at the very least, even if you didn't want to have sex with me or if you loved solving equations more than me or if you loved musical theater more than me or if you loved ANYTHING IN THE WORLD more than me, I thought you liked me company. I thought you did.

Now I realize, you're faker than I thought. That really sucks. But hey, I'll get over it.

You know, soon.

Emotions. Hah. Remember those things I used to have...a lot more than I do now? :]

So. Once upon a time I dated this boy and he was sort of lukewarm through our whole relationship. But I kept hanging on because, for some reason, I believed that it was for the best--that in the end, he cared a lot, but he just didn't know how to show it and I thought he needed a chance. Then. He dumped me.

Good judgment, Kells.

And THEN, I met this other boy who was pretty much the first boy...with minor differences. He played sports and he liked me a whole freaking lot and he would do ANYTHING to make me happy. Sounds perfect, right?

I thought so too, and I still do, for the most part, but then the similarities between these boys started rearing their ugly heads. Same interests, same dumb quirks, same goofy personalities, just same, same, same.

And in all reality, that wasn't a problem at first because it was like, but this is someone else, not him, someone else. And he's a totally different person and he's sweet and he cares and he would do just anything for me. But the more I joked with my friends, the more the same jokes came out. Gawwwwd, can we PLEASE stop making jokes about the Wizard of Oz, PLEASE. Like, I laugh every time because it's funny, but it's like, I so quickly associate those jokes with the first guy. It's reflex and it doesn't consciously upset me at the time, but later it does because it's almost like in my mind, I think, "Ugh. Remember that time when all my friends and my boyfriend were in the musical together and we made jokes all the time and it was funny and I was sick of hearing them and-,"

Oh.

Farmington, Maine.

Someone else.

Hm.

Interesting.

And I love Farmington, I do, I really do and I love all my friends and I'm mostly okay, it's just certain things set me off. It shouldn't be any surprise to anyone that I'm emotionally retarded--I did spend the first eighteen years of my life like this after all--and I mean, for the last three months I've been 150% better, but...sometimes I slip. But just sometimes.

Moreover, sex freaks me out. Hormones freak me out. The bottom line is, my fifteenth year happened and it was crazy and I didn't like it and, while I don't feel guilty, it sort of emotionally crippled me with sex. And my emotions just flip flop so quickly. It's like, one day, I'm okay and I feel fine and the next, I'm paranoid...so paranoid that my personality has nothing to do with my relationship...

I just want an answer. What is right? What will make me feel like shit? Why am I so sensitive all the time?

Give me an answer.

But I guess these emotions are my answer...right? It only makes sense. Everyone always says "listen to your heart" or whatever...shit and I suppose that's true and perhaps I shouldn't question it and I should just be careful. Super careful not to hurt myself.

I'm not sure if any of this is making sense, but I'm trying my best to put it into words.

Botton line is:

Rejection sucks.

Break ups suck.

Sexual relations are complicated.

And I'm a little homesick.

And I don't know why the fuck I care about you anymore. But all I know is it's freaking complicated and I just...I just hate it. And, the thing is, this would be SO much easier if I thought you ever cared half as much as I did, but I don't believe that. I don't even believe that. And now I'm trying my very hardest to fight past these feelings and care about about someone new, to direct these feelings 100% at someone who cares about me just soooooo much.

I want this to be easy. I want fifteen to have never happened. I want my eight months back. I want to be beautiful--not hot, not pretty. I want him to say I'm beautiful. And I want everyone to stop making jokes about the fucking Wizard of Oz.

<3

If tests are harvests...then you're the acid rain, killing my crop. Thanks a lot, asshole.

So today my Arab/Israeli Conflict professor told my class her philosophy about school. "Tests are like harvests." Um. Okay, thanks for the super queer analogy. I almost giggled when she said this because it was only a few days ago when Michael informed me that this was her philosophy. Not to mention the fact that almost any time anything is compared to nature, it's gay. And I mean that in the least offensive way possible. I remember reading something a couple days ago, written on a large refrigerator magnet, in varying shades of blue: "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." Well, gee, thanks Marcel Proust for making happiness as stupidly gay as possible.

Why is it necessary to compare it to nature? Why don't we just say, "Be grateful for nice people"? No, it makes more sense to talk about "charming gardeners" and "blossoming souls".

GAY.

This isn't my point though. I started taking this analogy deeper. Because that only makes sense. If someone's going to say something queer, I will make it queerer. That's when I decided that tests are harvests, reading is planting crops while studying is watering these crops. And distractions are droughts, stunting growth in these fucking crops. And you, showing up in my dreams, pissing me off, distracting me from the harvest, are the acid rain, killing my fucking crops, douchebag. What'd you do that for?

Well, I mean, that's more if happiness is the harvest. So if it was, then you would STILL be the acid rain.

I just wish I never cared. Because, like, it's not even the fact that I care now because I'm okay, it's the fact that I cared so much and nothing good ever came of it.

Fortunately, some sun is beginning to peek from behind the clouds.

:| <---awkward face for queer analogies.

HAH. ALANAH. GOTCHA.

At the moment Alyssa is convincing Alanah that I'm gay. And that I had sex with my boyfriend. She is SOOOOOO gullible. LOL.

I'll tell you that I love you then I'll tear your world apart, just pretend I didn't tear your world apart.

Break ups suck.

They just fucking suck.

And sometimes it's not even about the person. It's the broken promise. The violation of trust. "You were supposed to be there." "You were supposed to be safe." No, I never wanted you to fake your feelings for me, but I was kind of hoping this wouldn't happen either. All anyone ever does is ramble on and on about how "you're always there", but you're NOT. You don't know how to be. Sure, do I wish you were? Of course I do. Fuck yes, but you weren't and you never really were. You're supposed to put everything you got into every possibility in your life and then, just then, you'll know if it's right, not half-ass it until you realize that it "isn't working anymore." Because in all reality, no, it wasn't not working because we weren't right, it wasn't working because YOU weren't right.

You WEREN'T right. "You were supposed to be there." SUPPOSED. All of you. Just for me. Just to be there for me, not for anything else. You were supposed to be my friend. That's what I thought we were. But you can't do that either. You're so stereotypically closed off. You'll give anything to a stranger. You would give your fucking heart to a stranger, but as soon as you get to know someone--it's all over. You won't make close friends with a real personality. It's all a damn facade. Who are you? Because I sure as hell don't think it's who I THINK you are.

Relationships aren't just labels. Sure, they were when we were ten, but we're fucking adults. They're lifestyles. And if you're not willing to accept that then you shouldn't put anyone in the position to get hurt. If you aren't willing to give it your all, then give it your nothing. Don't give me half of yourself and expect that to be enough. I'm fucking sick of feeling like a psycho. I'm sick of feeling needy, when in reality--no one's given me everything. No one's handed me themselves, fully, untouched and said, "This is me. Take it or leave it." It's always me being me and him being...kind of him. Half of him.

And why the hell is that fair?

So, this is my warning. You've been fairly warned. People give me shit for never having relationship problems, but they only build that assumption off the fact that I've had several boyfriends. But if you look closely at every single one of those relationships, you'll see--they were all bad. None of them worked. None of them stuck. And not in the teenage way, in the "they were just shitty relationships" way. So I've had my fill of "just getting by". I'm DONE. So if this is going to happen, it's going to HAPPEN. And it's going to be real and you're going to be real and you're not going to sugar coat anything. I'll give you me if you give me you. It's a trade-off. Fair and square.

If you're planning on just putting on a show for me, then leave. Go away. Leave me alone because I understand if relationships don't work because people aren't compatible, but I will not, for a second, be pushed to side and prioritized behind insignificant parts of life that you don't even really care about. I should be a top priority. I should be one of the first people you think of in the morning and the last you think about at night and like, I get that I'm being a little dramatic, but I should be your something AT LEAST.

We're young sure, but we're all grown up. We're old enough to buy cars, vote, rent apartments, have sex, smoke and get fucking married--we're old enough to have semi-mature relationships.

And don't tell me what I want to hear. I'm sick of that. I'm all grown up, you don't have to patronize me. Tell me what you're thinking. Be a person. Be real. Let me know what you want. Open up. Don't try. Just be. If I didn't like you, then I wouldn't be talking to you. I do like you and I want you, but I do NOT want the perfected version of you because I'M NOT PERFECT. I just want honesty. Just be honest and be yourself--no matter how cliched that sounds--JUST DO IT.

Please, I'm begging you. I am begging you. Don't let me down. Don't let me down again. Because I do want you, you. But do not waste my time AGAIN.

HELLO WORLD. IT IS I, A CATHOLIC GIRL WHO IS NICE, OPEN-MINDED AND ENTIRELY UNHOMOPHOBIC. BELIEVE IT.

SO I'VE GOT A LOTTA COMPLAINTS TODAY.

Most importantly, I would like to cover the topic of religion. And I don't mean, I'm going to be like--guys, say your prayers, go to church, don't use the Lord's name in vain...NO. I'm angry about an entirely different situation and it's the assumption. When did it become okay to assume? It makes an ass out of you and me, but mostly just you.

I have a confession.

I am a Catholic.

Yes, Catholic. I can only imagine the terrible things you're thinking of me now, but this is when I explain myself. I believe in God. I believe in Heaven and Hell. I believe that every night someone listens to my prayers and that there is a path paved for me already. I believe that someone watches over me, keeping me safe. It makes me feel comfortable. It makes feel joy. I love going to church. I love praying. I love believing in something that is so extraordinary.

But I do not love the endless judgments that others pass on me daily.

But worse are the people who support this unfortunate judgment. Why is it that so many people take Catholicism as an excuse to judge others. I find it ironic. Being a Christian is 100% about being a good person and learning to love everyone. It has absolutely nothing to do with judgment. Why exactly does it make sense to exile others for their mistakes and, moreover, why don't we forgive? That's the whole point. Forgiveness, so that people can come to terms with their past knowing that there is someone, something watching and caring and listening.

So, I would like to propose that if you judge harshly, use the word 'hate' frequently, gossip about people you do not agree with, 'disagree with homosexuality' (which I never understood because it's not something one chooses), or just generally look through an eye clouded with unfair beliefs of others and STILL call yourself a Christian--think about about what you're saying. You're saying you believe to love everyone equally and forgive frequently, when you hardly do these things at all.

If you wish to do well for others, then you're a Christian. End of story. If you love all, regardless of the way they live their everyday lives, then you're a Christian. Why in the world would anyone straying from the path want to listen to someone who is mean and careless? I'm just sayin'.

I know a lot of others much like myself, but I also know a number of people who are like the people I'm describing.

And moreover, why the hell are so many Catholics focused on such SMALL aspects of life? I remember, a couple of years ago when Britney's single "If You Seek Amy" came out and my choir director was disgusted. Simply disgusted. Why the hell are we focused on pop culture? Why are we focused on stopping abortion at all costs? Why do we try to push our beliefs on others using violence and fear? Isn't that EXACTLY NOT what Christianity is about? What scared, unhappy woman who is considering abortion wants to listen to a group of angry, cold "Christians"?

Life is complicated enough as it is. We sure as hell do not need people trying to impose fear on others with violent, rash decisions. And what about all of the children in the world whose lives we CAN control? What are we doing about that? I know few TRUE Christians, but if there are any, they are the women who run the St. Charles Children's Home in Rochester, New Hampshire. People who help others using love, looking only forward to the future. Yes, abortion kinda sucks, but there are SO many other children in this world who need our attention.

The bottom line is, I have no idea why love isn't used in all situations. People are basically scared and anyone who is contemplating terrible decisions is not going to listen to anger--she or he might respond to love though.

Life is NOT black and white people and I'm fucking sick of people assuming it is. All Catholics are not bitchy, but there sure as hell aren't SOME bitchy ones. All I'm saying is, religion can be a good thing and I'm an example of where it works. And if more people--Christian, Jewish, Muslim, WHATEVER--reacted to problematic situations with love and not anger, then I think a lot more people would look at religion with a positive eye.

Thank you all for listening to this rant. Hope you aren't all too bored. :]

Things that I wish I could say.

If I was ballsy, I'd make this my status. Unfortunately, I don't feel like fighting up a storm with everyone at home so I won't.

This is it:

If you don't have the maturity to grow up and accept that some things in life don't fit within the lines of your book of decency, then keep your mouth shut until you're ready to do so. I find it disgusting that you feel the need to pass judgment on something you know nothing about simply because it may make you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. It only proves how close-minded and immature you are. But I mean, hey! You're Catholic right? And that's the stereotype we want to support--we're close-minded, careless jerks who simply want to force our beliefs in the eyes of others. Thank you for being exactly who I thought you were. <3

That is all.

I wish someone would buy ME 1000 daisies and leave them in the lobby of my inn.

Sometimes I just wish I was Lorelei Gilmore, or Rory Gilmore--either way. I just wish that over the top expressions of love happened all the time and I wish that love was based on personality 100% and I wish that unrequited love didn't exist and I wish that wonderful people weren't kept in the friend zone forever and ever.

I wish that expressing these feelings weren't matched with a fear of loss of the wonderful person who these feelings are being expressed to. I wish that beauty could be realized, I wish it wasn't like, "Oh, I don't find you attractive, so I NEVER will." I wish he could see it. I wish he could, for you, because you deserve it, if anyone does. You do. I wish he would buy you 1000 daisies and leave them in the lobby of your inn. I wish he would.


I wish, I wish, I wish.

I just wish someone would see what I see, that's all. This started out as directed at one person, but it's more like two. I wish he could too. For you as well. I wish he could see what I see. A wonderful, fantastic person. I only wish you know I tried really hard not to be stupid and to shake it off. I tried. Really tried. I wish he, the real he, loved you and bought you 1000 daisies and left them in the lobby of your inn. I wish he would.

I wish this could be simple. I wish he hadn't hurt me. I wish he hadn't dropped me. I wish he hadn't left me. Not because I want anyone back, but because then I would be able to recognize a healthy relationship, but I can't. I swear, it's just the idea of someone who just cares about me, who thinks I'm beautiful--the idea's like crack to me. And he does, I swear it. I'm nearly positive.

I wish he would buy me 1000 daisies and leave them in the lobby of my inn. Then I'd be sure. Or I'd dump him and run away from my wedding--either way.

;]

I just wish he would read your words and smile and agree and call you and tell you he loved you as well. I only wish, I wish, I wish--because you deserve it. I don't think you need it (even though you will swear up and down you do), I think you're independent, I think you are a wonderful person alone and you don't need anyone to complete that, eventually yes, but not just yet. But you deserve it.

I wish that he could see what I see. Just a really cool person. I wish he could see that and realize people like us are the "once in a lifetime" kind and twenty years from now the vain looks of those who are conventionally beautiful will only get him so far in achieving true happiness for the rest of his life.

I wish, I wish, I wish. Just buy her 1000 daisies and leave them in the lobby of her inn. Pretty please.

"But I don't want to draw anymore penises!"

Ha. Haha.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

LAWLZ. <3

My roommate left for the weekend and Alyssa, Chelsea, Mike and I took it upon ourselves to draw over 100 penises on notebook paper and hide them around the room. These things included a "Welcome Back" sign drawn entirely with penises, 30 or so under the covers of her bed, one in the microwave, one in the fridge, one with all the "Full House" characters, one with a bow for Christmas, one over a picture of her grandmother, one in hot chocolate, one in the Harry Potter DVD and finally one on the movie "Seven Pounds" which was rewritten to be "Seven Penises".

LOL. <:D

I really did write a pros and cons list. Jagganath came out on top in the end. But that doesn't mean that THAT'S gonna happen.

Incidentally, I discovered that my friends suck. It turns out that this certain person has actually been crushing on me the whole time, even though I spent a week assuming I was a manipulative slutty bitch. This was a complete lie. He did like me. The whole time. No one told me. So now I've just CONVINCED myself I'm a bitch.

Real special.

Meh.

Jagganath is always around when I'm blogging and he's usually near me. He's come to known blogging as a "vagina thing" because I told him only girls can see it. In reality, he just can't see it. Haha.

Hah.

I jumped up nearly twenty times last night, rolled onto my butt, my back erect and my eyes wide. "It's Sunday!" I exclaimed, staring across the room at Meg. Meg rolled her eyes, nearly every time.

"I know Kellsey, I know!" She then rolled over and went back to sleep. I couldn't decide if she actually thought I was annoying or not.

So here's to not creating tragic situations this week!

:DDDDDD

Riveting tales told by...me :D

Slow it down, make it stop, or else my heart is going to pop

I wrote a pros and cons list. We'll call person #1 Jagannath and person #2 Ulf.

haha.

Baby name websites are funny.

I'm not going to name my pros and cons on this website. It's PERSONAL. ;]

LOLJK. I'm just lazy.

So...ANYWAY...today has been fairly anticlimactic (;]) as I've spent much of it so far cleaning and writing an essay about 9/11...

...

And that's it basically. I was up until 3 last night listening to Katie tell me overly descriptive stories and watching Kelsey spin in circles on the tile. I'm pretty sure one of these times our neighbors are going to get an angry mob together and show up outside our dorm, carrying pitchforks and shovels. (I wanted to write that thing that has fire on it, but I don't remember what it's called.)

Hm...

But mostly I've just tried to overly dramatize things in my head so I'll want to write something tragically bad, but wildly entertaining! I'm getting there, the pros and cons list helped. Kind of.

MEH.


ajdlkjfslkjdsfksjdjiejwovjkjfls

a...s..d...f...a...s...d...f...space...space...space...space...space...space...;...l...k...j...;...l...k...j...space...space...space...space...space...space...


<3

^ Oh the wondrous things elementary school has taught me.

What if I named my children Jagannath and Ulf? Do you have friends when you acquire such horrific names?

Probably not.

I'M HUNGRY. GONNA GO FIND FOOD UNDER KELSEY'S BED. <3

"If I stay in one place I lose my mind, I'm a pretty impossible lady to be with." -Sometimes I love Kimya Dawson

So think about every romantic comedy you've ever seen. The most common plotline? The best friend. Girl and guy are best friends, guy loves girl, girl rejects guy until end of movie where girl realizes true love for guy and kisses him, marries him, etc...

Well, I think I'm slowly coming to the realization that this is my life. I mean, I don't know. I can never tell. Especially since I'm so far away from home, but it's like...I spent half a year "dating" someone while at the same time basically "dating" someone else and the whole time it was just weird because...I had a boyfriend.

But it was like, here's this other person who fits perfectly, but I'm not going to do anything about it because I'm "in love."

... (<---this is called and ellipsis by the way. <:D)


Sometimes I wonder if I'm mentally insane.

^_^

It's like whatever.

And when I say "in love" I mean, I was, but I was in love with the person I thought he was. Or the person he could be, or the person he might become. I wasn't in love with the person who didn't really pay all that much attention to me.

And I mean that in the least bitchy way possible. Because like, as a friend, I really do love him, he's just got some thinkin' to do.

(^If you were reading all of that, I'm sorry.)

<:D

Well, and THEN I got jealous when someone else dated him...really jealous. And I didn't say anything because I knew it was dumb, but I did. I'm so sick of feeling like a selfish bitch all the time when in reality I'm just generally retarded and a wee bit confused. And maybe I don't like my college guy at all, but really, I'm just excited to go home and watch "Dear Reader, Wizard People" with him and listen to his really useless facts.

:]

Eh. But that does not mean friends that I have nothing to complain about.

In other news, I'm pretty sure Kelsey secretly resents me. This is why, on the internet, I am formally surrendering (<---right now that doesn't sound like a word, but I'm sticking to it) to Kelsey. I don't know if I even really want him and I don't really feel like reigning in someone I'm sure about. And I know he wants her, a lot. So. Enough of this shit.

<3

I'm supposed to be studying for meteorology. PEACE.

^_^

Ya better shape up, 'cause I need a man, AND MY HEART IS SET ON YOU. <:D

If there was ever a day to blog, to rant, to write about meaningless subjects that will hold no meaning to my life in five years--today would be that day. My life really is devastatingly unfortunate now. I officially live in a trashy teen novel or else--some sort of...bad romantic comedy. And, yes, this sounds satisfactory, but really? No. It's mostly just annoying.

And you know what else is annoying?

Being nice.

I mean, if I was mean I would just do what I want. But see, I like my roommate and I get really protective over my friends and I am not going to date a boy who she has feelings for. I just won't.

I assume you would like some back-up, that is the few who are reading this. And by few I mean like...one. Or two. Everything will be up-front in time.

Time.

Meanwhile, Sandy is singing about being "hopelessly devoted" on the TV. I think I might stab myself with whatever nearby object will do the trick.

Eh. Die cheesy musicals.

So there's this person. And he likes my roommate. A lot. I tried, but I like him...as well. I knew that my roommate (her name is Kelsey, I know. It's bizarre) liked someone else, but she also likes this...person.

AND I WON'T BE THAT GIRL. I WON'T. I WON'T. I WON'T.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME....EH. I WANT TO SO BAD.

And I told her, "Go for it."

But that effing sucks, kind of. But I want her to be happy because I'm a GOOD person. Gah.

I cannot write about this. BE BACK LATER. <3

I HATE IT WHEN VELOCIRAPTORS CREEP OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM DOOR. GUHHH! DAMN FARMINGTON CAN'T TEACH 'EM ANYTHING!

Just read through some of my old posts and felt an overwhelming desire to vomit. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I love writing, but if anything it just documents your stupidity. It feels so good when everything's going your way, but once shit starts flying, it's just there--watching you, mocking you. "You had so much faith," it says deafeningly, "so much. Haha, such a waste of time that was."

Such a waste of time that was.

But if I remember one thing from economics, it was this--sunk cost. A cost that's irretrievable. That's me and David. Irretrievable, I can only move forward.

In other news, since I last blogged a couple of hours ago, we started watching Harry Potter and lounging around my dorm. Now, you all know how much I adore Harry Potter and I must keep shushing everyone to keep them quiet. Why do they not understand the importance? :]

LOLJK.

>:D

When I first tried to type that, I typed this ----> <:D

I can't really decide what that face is, but I don't think it's normal. ;]

I'm gonna pull some Lizzie McGuire shit on y'all for a moment, I hope you don't ditch me, but that's what a blog is for, RIGHT? To talk about useless shit for you ALL to NOT care about. HAH.

There's a velociraptor outside my room. Traci's boyfriend just tried to tell me otherwise. Silly people. I know a velociraptor when I hear one. Do they think I'm STUPID?

Chelsea's sitting right next to me, reading what I'm writing, so she's about to laugh at me. I find this amusing as I'm being stupid and dramatic. (It's true- Chelsea)

But it sucks already when you kinda like someone and he likes someone else, it really sucks when he likes TWO people.

And it sucks even MORE when the two people he likes are lounging on top of him on the bed next to you.

CHELSEA JUST TALKED ABOUT THE COWARDLY LION. STUPID BITCH.

THAT'S WHY I SLAPPED HER. I TAUGHT HER A LESSON. NEXT SHE'S GONNA HAVE TO GO OUTSIDE AND DEAL WITH THE VELOCIRAPTOR.

"I forgot! I forgot!" WELL STOP FORGETTING. (She's a bitch- Chelsea)

So basically, I'm watching this person lie on top of his lovers, while lying with Chelsea. My love. (<3) However, I don't really want to have sex with her, so I still would like this other...person.

Damn. Why? Why? Why? (because sex is good)

Thanks for that riveting explanation, Chels. It really helped me figure things out.

I SWEAR I'M NOT BEING ONE OF THOSE GIRLS WHO JUST CAN'T BE ALONE. EVER. I SWEAR. ALKMOWEIJVJLFJSDOIKLSJDKJSDKLFJAWIOEVKLDJF. IT'S NOT JUST.

ANYONE.

OAWIJVLJDFJAKLDSJLKFJS

I SWEAR. BUT. THIS DAMN PERSON.

I REFUSE TO REFER TO HIM AS A HIM BECAUSE THEN I SOUND MORE LIZZIE MCGUIRE-ISH AND I REFUSE.

I REFUSE GOD DAMMIT.

<:D

<3

How about...what is it NOW? DUMBASS.

My life has gone from mildly amusing to down-right hysterical.

Other words that could describe it are: pathetic, unfortunate and disturbingly ironic.

Last night it hit me--the possibilities. I was single. Single. The state of singularity can be one of unhappiness or one of embrace and self-discovery. I mean, it's been a week and the more I think about it, the more I think about how little our relationship stood for.

Me and David's--I mean.

It's like, I spent so much time in my head thinking about what COULD be. What our relationship COULD stand of. Consequently, I read this cosmo article--"Have you found the ONE?"

Statement #5: "You're marrying the man he is today, not the man he may one day BECOME."

And then I realized it. I'm eighteen. I should be dating someone who really, really likes me. Someone who wants me, totally, COMPLETELY. Not someone who might one day when we're older and don't have "college" and "grades" to think about. I want someone who wants me, not someone who MIGHT want me SOMEDAY.

My mind found clarity--this is a positive thing. As a firm believer of fate, I knew if Daniel and I were supposed to be together we would be one day. But right now, that wasn't my plan. So acceptance came over me and I felt--almost--happy.

Single. Singularity--a time of unhappiness or self-discovery.

I choose self-discovery.

And if someone comes into my life, then great. However, if no one does--that's good too.

Sort of.

See. There's kind of this person. And I'm not gonna go into description because you all know my hatred for the Lizzie McGuire complex. But I don't know, I'm trying not to like him because it's probably not gonna happen, but every time I'm around him, it gets worse. Just grows inside me like some kind of tumor...or fungi. I practically hate myself. Or...disgust myself.

AM I A WHORE? I mean, my boyfriend and I of eight months JUST broke up. I feel like such an effing bitch. But...it just seems so...possible.

While completely impossible. Gawd. I'm so dramatic and stupid. Fuck you Lizzie McGuire complex.

But it's not like I'm over him, David. Every time he shows up on my news feed, something drops through my stomach. Like a brick, just plops and I feel a hole open. Wider and wider. Waiting to be filled. But knowing it won't happen.

I don't want to just fill a hole. I want someone else to fit. In a different way.

It'll happen, I know it will. I just need to be patient.

Dear God,

If you could send along a dashing, young fellow who is humble, attractive and sweet then that would be just fabulous.

Much love,

Kellsey

"It comes in waves, big ones, really close together." -Thank you Rory Gilmore!

Oh how naive! Oh how stupidly naive!

I'm feeling a bit cynical today, guys. Be prepared.

But, oh how STUPID. How young! How sweet! I thought I had gotten over this years ago. That whole immature teenage love thing--this was supposed to be different, grown-up. But ha, my friends, how young and stupid I really was. There was no growth in this relationship, no happiness. Just me thinking I was happy...

Because I was.

But see, all of that "happiness" kind of disappears when you discover that the other one wasn't. I thought I was happy because I was--indeed--happy. I loved the way we worked, I loved his inept boyfriendness, I loved his blue eyes, I loved being with someone who for once wasn't trying to get into my pants every second of the day and even though I joked about it--I was HAPPY with it that way. I loved the respect, I loved a million other stupid things that I could go into detail about right now, but that would just be UNHEALTHY. So I won't.

I just fucking loved him. And I'm not just saying that. It's not like that whole "he's a boy and I'm a girl"--I just loved the person he was and I loved when he allowed me to be part of that. This isn't like two relationships ago where I was waiting for the end, this wasn't like the last one when it was kind of bound to happen, this is just...heartbreak.

The worst part was it was SO expected, I was waiting for it to happen. For months. It always seemed possible. So when it actually did happen, it wasn't like it surprised me all that much--it was just...heartbreaking. Cliche? Yes. Fact? Yes.

If the earth could swallow me up and make it the least bit reminiscent of every girly disney sitcom then that would just be lovely.

I've lost my faith in humanity guys, it's official. My mother told me that I didn't have to find my husband right now and it's not like I was assuming me and David would be together forever, it's more just that I like the comfort of having someone there. Just incase. And the fact that I loved David as well was just a bonus.

FML. :o

And moreover, NOW this means my resident stalker--Richie Rich (to make a long story short, he lives upstairs and he's got the hots for me, recently broke up with his long-time girlfriend and was basically waiting for me to break up with mine)--is bound to jump my bones in no time at all. I DON'T WANT RICH, GUYS. I JUST DON'T. AND I FEEL LIKE A FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN WHEN IN REALITY I KNOW I'M NOT BEING ONE.

Ugh. FARMINGTON HAS TWO-THIRDS WOMEN, PEOPLE. SEVENTY PERCENT. THIRTY PERCENT MALES. WTF. AND MOST OF THEM ARE PROBABLY GAY.

I mean let's be serious. And there are very few attractive women on campus. I propose nunnery!

Gahhhhh. I shouldn't feel stupid...but I do.

In other news, I went to the Farmington Fair today. It was lovely. Pet cows, poked sheep, bought sunglasses, thought about going on scary carnival rides, didn't go on scary carnival rides, watched Katie be eaten by a baby cow. It was a good day.

But you know what wasn't good? The Wizard of Oz mural on the west side of the fair.

alwjevoiwjVIEOJJKFJALSDJOIVJWKAJFLKDJLJFOIWEAJVKLFJDLFAJWOIEJVKJFIEWJVLKJLKJSDFJOEWIJFKLDAJKLFJKDLJ

DIE.

WHAT'S NEXT?!?!?

OKAY. THE PROOF IS IN. MY LIFE TURNS INTO MY STORIES. IT'S A FACT.

So, that rewrite was a situation where Chase and Kris are sitting outside behind the school. Chase is talking about constellations and physics--like always and Kris is listening diligently. Eventually, Kris jumps him, they have sex in the parking lot, fall asleep in her car. And live happily ever after. Eh. Kinda.

Today, I found myself behind Sacred Heart School (the private Catholic school behind my church) lying on the grass with my boyfriend. Him talking about constellations, me listening diligently. Granted, it didn't end in sex, but it was STILL a little FREAKY. Don't you think? Subtract the sex and it was the same situation!

Before all of this action went down, we were running around the Sacred Heart playground--swinging on the swings, climbing the monkey bars, all that jazz. And while on the swings, I learned about the game Indiana Jones, where while swinging a person runs in between the people the swinging, timing it perfectly of course, and runs back. It was terrifying. And then Mary and I got married and divorced twice. It was a bizarre day.

Yup. I'm home. I am still a chicken. D:

You know, I always leave to go to the river for a week. Every year. And when I come back, it always feels like I never left. Everything is always exactly the same. The beach is still the beach, my room is still my room, my dog Lily is still my dog Lily and I am--still--a fucking chicken.

Not just a chicken--a fucking chicken.

I get myself all excited. All ready. I'm going to plan it out. (Because the only way to sabotage someone who plans everything is planning everything yourself.) I'm going to wear my best jeans and something low-cut and my hair down--blow-dried and straightened. I'm going to do my makeup and wear wedges and then, GUESS WHO'S STANDING IN MY DOOR?

It's eleven. I just got home. I haven't showered. I smell like fish. My name is Kellsey.

FML.

Once again, I use Lizzie McGuire as the epitome of teenage angst and melodramatics and I don't mean to be like that. BUT HE CAN'T JUST TAKE ME BY SURPRISE LIKE THAT. I was supposed to be ready. I need to crack that shell, like a walnut and I can't do that when he's just popping into my house, with the smile and the eyes.

By he I mean David. I figured you knew that by this point.

And then my mind just kept screaming at me. Yelling. Obscenities were trailing through my head. "Just do it. Don't be stupid." But guess what I did? NOTHING. EXACTLY. And because of that I'm going to the SPCA to buy twenty cats and live alone for the rest of my life in complete solitude where no one can disturb me. I don't need men. I could sit around with my cat Mimi all day and get pretty much the same reaction that I get out of most guys. Sure the last one was gay, but I'm still counting it. Where's the tension? The passion? The excitement?

I don't want my reaction to come off as disappointment in him--he's fine. He came and surprised me, he was being SWEET. But, but--I just had a plan. Big plans. But I just did NOTHING. Because when he catches me off guard, I'm useless. I'm one of those women, the kind whose brain leaves the room when a man walks in. I'm that girl. The absent-minded one. Something needs to change and it's needs to change NOW. The countdown is on--fourteen days until college. If I don't kick it up by then I'm doomed.



I'm such a fucking chicken. WHY DIDN'T I JUST DO IT?

Dear St. Lawrence River, it would be pleasing to me if you would keep your fish out of my grill. Thanks bunches. :DD

Okay, so posting that story that re-wrote is probably a terrible idea. I'm still deciding. It's just a little...questionable. However, I absolutely adore it. :DDD If I couldn't write this ideas out on paper, I have absolutely no clue what I would do with myself.

Secondly, yesterday I fell out of a kayak. Just thought I'd share that. I've been kayaking since I was a small child, but apparently God decided it was time for a little wake-up call. Therefore, while trying to manuever myself into my purple kayak, I lost balance and consquently flipped. However, I'm terrified of fish, so this was probably the worst possible thing that could happen. My father kept saying, "Swim over here! Swim over here!" But HELL NO. I was NOT swimming anywhere, those damn fish were all up in my grill. The water was probably about four feet deep, so I could have stood up, but I just rolled there in the kayak like I was drowning until my father could reach his hand out far enough to grab mine and pull me up onto the dock. Meh. I still went kayak fishing after that. Without changing.

Like I said, grin and bear it. I'm not wasting my time on feeling bad for myself. Funny things happen to me--what are ya gonna do?

Ahem.

So.

After kayak-fishing I climbed halfway across the Thousand Islands Bridge with my familia. I couldn't help but be a little fixed on the spiders that had manifested themselves through the bridge cables. Those little things were EVERYWHERE. It was upsetting. The view was wonderful though. Except whenever an eighteen wheeler would go by, the whole bridge would shake like it was about to collapse. That part I didn't find so hot.

And then, I colored and did a puzzle with my family. My mother kept hogging all the pieces. She had twenty or so of them that she had called her own. She's a freak.

FINALLY, until two in the morning, I watched the Kardashians and then HP with Caroline and Katie. We watched the Prisoner of Azkaban. My sister was blown away to hear that the line that I tend to recite a lot was in this movie. Every time anyone asks me a question and I don't know the answer, I say, "That's the question isn't it! He's the first one who done it!"

Yeah. That's from the Prisoner of Azkaban. I need to stop being so lame.

HOW AM I EVER GOING TO MAKE FRIENDS IN COLLEGE?!?!

Hey God! I got the message! Teenagers are stupid. :DDD

So--question. Why is it that any child between the ages of thirteen and fifteen is completely useless? They're like dark holes that just suck the happiness out of everyone around them. It's like--I get it, you're bored and you can't go out with your friends. Stop taking it out on me.



My sister's friends suck. She's fourteen. One of them decided to turn on her today and I took her on. She told me to "pick on somebody my own size." Okay, fuck you Lizzie McGuire. Sure, you can't drive, your parents won't let you go to a boy-girl party. Whatever. Why don't you go trip over a peculiarly placed chair and knock over a boy with nineties hair and make a really huge deal about it? Okay?



Okay.



Woo. Okay. That freakout was a big 'un.



So drinking Snapple, fact of the day: "Franklin Roosevelt was related to five US presidents by blood and six by marriage." See. Didn't think you're learn something today, did you? "It's summer, I don't need to learn anything." Like whatever. Stop being stupid.

Today I was reading my old stories that I wrote back in middle school and I was alarmed by how my story characters advanced in personalities the same way my life did. When I was writing about Olivia and Shaun, which was any time between the years of sixth grade and tenth, Shaun was like Jake. Not purposely, but his character was just be similar to that of Jake's, who was my boyfriend at the time. And now I'm reading my stories that revolve around a neurotic girl by the name of Kristen and her nerdy boyfriend Chase.

Okay. This is just freaky.

Chase is David. Like down to the little details. Same appearance, same personality. I stopped writing that story back in the tenth grade as well. WTF? It's like God's trying to play a funny joke on me or something. Either way it was hilarious and because of that, I became inspired to re-write a scene from the beginning of the second addition to this series. I'm trying to decide if I want to post it as I write.

I can only assume from now on that every boy I create in my stories will some time come to life in my lifetime. Maybe I should create someone who's rich and famous. I'll marry Rupert Grint just like my dreams.

;]

"Blue eyes--you're the sweet to my mean." Oh look! More fun!

“I’M flying off the handle?!” Olivia hollered. In anger, Shaun thought that Olivia could rise three feet in size. “I’M FLYING OFF THE HANDLE?!? You show up in MY city. In MY café. In MY apartment and, what? I’m just supposed to be thrilled you’re here to screw everything up again?”

Like that. A stand still.

Shaun sighed. “I’m not trying to screw everything up.”

“Well, WHAT then!?” Olivia’s face flushed—she felt uncomfortably warm. Suddenly, she let a growl burst from her mouth. “Gosh, Shaun, it’s like you just think I wait here for you and I’m sure as hell trying to move on to SOMETHING.”

Shaun was speechless. “I wasn’t trying to encroach upon ‘your’ city,” he attempted to explain.

“Well, why’d you come then?” Olivia asked.

“Hailey wanted me to.”

“EXACTLY,” she screamed. “Hailey, YOUR GIRLFRIEND, wanted you to come, so why don’t you go spend some time with her?”

Shaun felt so unsatisfied, so wrong. “Hailey,” the name rang in his mind, “your girlfriend.” Two things he had NEVER hoped to hear together. He hadn’t wanted to date Hailey. He was twenty-one. He was supposed to be engaged to Olivia, planning a summer wedding, picking names for their children and falling asleep on the couch. It was like there were two realities. One where all was right and Olivia and Shaun were together. Getting married, having babies, growing old and the other where they weren’t. Floating. Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Because they couldn’t think of anything else to do. They were just passing time. Taking classes “they thought were interesting.” Preparing themselves to “start a career.” These were all level-headed decisions. Shaun and Olivia weren’t level-headed. They were all about thinking on the spot and, while it wasn’t the right decision for everyone, it was the right decision for them.

“Fuck,” Shaun swore. “I really wish that made less sense.”

Olivia stared at remote spot ahead of her. The hard-wood floors. “Would you just go already?”

He studied her movement. It was like watching a fucking science experiment.

“Shaun?”

“Yes?”

“Go see Hailey.”

He closed his eyes. “No.”

“Damn, why not?” Olivia asked. She dropped her arms. “Why won’t you leave me alone? Why won’t you give it UP? We gave it a try. We really gave it a try and it failed. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” Shaun said.

She sighed. “Why not?”

“Because anything that requires this level of drama is NOT over,” said Shaun. He took a few strides forward until he was directly in front of her, staring down into the reflection of her glassy green eyes. “I’m not here to make any life decisions. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want you to see that I’m thinking about you.”

“Well thanks for making things extra complicated, once again!” Olivia snarled. She walked over and took a seat on the lumpy couch—a distasteful beige. Shaun gulped and thought quickly. What was he trying to say? “I mean, honestly, do you believe any of the words that come from your mouth, or do you just say them anyway?”

Shaun stood, his arms swinging at his sides. “Well, I do believe them,” he said, “Mostly because they’re true.”

“Oh bullshit,” Olivia glared at him. “You don’t want to be with me anymore than Hailey. You’re just scared. Do me a favor—go sleep with your girlfriend and then see if you want to be with me. Might level out your hormones a bit.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Shaun ordered and walked over to her. “It took a lot of nerve for me to get off my ass and stop sulking and actually come over here and talk to you, so at least factor that in. Do you think this is easy? Do you think it’s easy for me to admit this all to you?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “You haven’t admitted anything to me.”

Shaun closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his forefinger and thumb. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know?”

Olivia positively ignited with anger, standing up from the couch. “THIS IS MY CITY!”

“THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY!”

“GO BACK TO MIAMI!”

“I SHOULD! There are lots of single, stupid women there who will just have sex with me!”

Olivia stomped over to him and shoved him backward. “WELL THEN DO IT!”

Shaun sighed. “I DON’T WANT TO JUST HAVE SEX WITH YOU!”

Olivia smiled. “Well, gee, thanks for the confidence booster.”

“Don’t take it that way,” Shaun said. He dropped his shoulders and rubbed his left eye. “I would love to have sex with you. Any time. Any day.”

She dropped her jaw. “Ew. Pig.”

“GOD, OLIVIA,” Shaun screamed. “LET’S JUST GET MARRIED. OKAY? MARRIED?”

Olivia furrowed her brow. “Yeah, OKAY.”

Shaun sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m not kidding.”

It didn’t seem possible, as Olivia quickly thought over this proposition, that the two realities could collide and make one seamless uncomplicated world. Olivia and Shaun—married, happy. This was something they both wanted, but it was just impossible. No one had ever annoyed Olivia as much as Shaun and no one had ever angered Shaun as much as Olivia. Just throw in a few well placed bruises and you had a case for domestic abuse. For both of them.

You can’t always get what you want.

“What do you mean you’re not kidding?” Olivia asked. “Of course you’re kidding. We can’t, we wouldn’t, it’s not that easy-,”

“I’m twenty-one and, last time I heard, you are too,” Shaun pointed out. Olivia pushed her lips together so tightly they nearly disappeared. “We can do whatever the fuck we want to do! We don’t need to over think our lives. Everything’s open to us. We can do this.”

Olivia sighed and rolled her eyes. Blue. So much damn blue.

“Shaun,” Olivia said, “I can’t just marry you.”

He dropped his shoulders. “Come on, just think about it.”

“I like Derek.”

“You love me.”

“I’m not having sex with you!”

“Good! I have a lifetime of it ahead of me! We’re gonna get married anyway!”

Olivia squinted at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you insane?”

“Yes, a little,” Shaun admitted. “But if I were level-headed, I would never be happy.”

She paused in her insistent debate.

Shaun could practically hear a door open—Olivia was speechless. He would write about it in a diary when he arrived home. “Look, Olivia,” he said, “I know this is crazy. It’s always been crazy. But if you don’t marry me now, I don’t care how long it will take, but I will marry you. Anytime, anywhere, one day we will be married.”

“How do you know I’ll give in?” she asked calmly. Her green eyes glazed over.

Shaun shrugged. “Because I inadvertently found you in the largest city in Massachusetts,” he laughed. “The twentieth in the world.”

“Country,” she said.

“What?”

“You said twentieth in the world,” Olivia explained. “Boston is the twentieth largest city in the country.”

They both laughed awkwardly—Shaun with his hands in his pockets, standing, back straight and legs a shoulder-width apart and Olivia arms crossed and eyes glazed. Shaun looked up at her.

“Are you going to marry me, Olivia?”

“Shaun-,”

“I don’t have a ring,” Shaun said and shrugged. “But that’s because I’m twenty-one and poor.
It’s no excuse and I’ll get one, but I’m sorry if that makes me lame.”

Olivia sighed. “Shaun-,”

“Olivia,” he said, “I love you.”

“Shaun-,”

“But I love you.”

Olivia covered her face with her hands and then dropped her arms. “Okay, you need to go,” she decided, literally pushing him towards the door.

“But-,” Shaun stopped, “an answer?”

With Shaun standing a foot outside the door, Olivia sighed. “Goodbye Shaun.”

And she slammed the door.

"I want you and you and nothing but you, miles and piles of you." Okay, showtunes. Take a flying leap --TODAY.

You know when you hear songs that sum up...everything? Everything you're thinking about, everything you're worrying about, everything you love and hate and wish would love or hate you? Yeah. I'm that girl who hears Taylor Swift and wants to stab herself. Repeatedly. Who knew I this would be such a challenge? (That is, who--other than the entirety of every class my boyfriend has ever been in...ever, in his entire young life--knew?) I keep hearing, "You knew what you were getting yourself into." Okay, fuck off smart ass. The boy is eighteen--he can have a girlfriend.

But still--I find myself PACING. I had lines of boys. (Okay, maybe not lines, but a few.) None of them were particularly revolting or annoying or stupid. I liked them all. Sort of. I mean, I would have been happy with any of them, but I'm with David. And I love David. That sounds really super gay, but it's true. There it is. And the funny thing is, even though I had all these choices, I didn't want anyone else.

Now I'd like to feel like I'm the same way in his eyes.

But it's like, I keep hitting myself on the head over and over again. "STOP BEING A WHINY BITCH." But it's not working! I'm still whining. WTF? I'm still worrying! I'm still wondering. Can't I just believe the words of others? Why the hell can't I just LISTEN and BELIEVE him? I'm being really dumb. Okay, breathe Ginger. The boy likes you. Why can't you believe that?

And it's not because I'm insecure because I had plenty of choices. Boys falling all over me. And I like myself. I don't think I'm fat (even while I sit next to my ten-pound boyfriend.) I think I can write. I think I can sing. In fact, I know I can. So why in the world am I so difficult with this?

It's just so infuriating. Sometimes you just want that moment--you know? Even if it's totally unrealistic. Sometimes you just need a moment where you know, you can feel it, you can SEE it in actions and body movements that this is love. Legit. He doesn't want to be with anyone else and this proves it. But I don't get that because that's just his personality. Trust me, I don't blame him for anything.

Maybe it's just because I'm a writer. I mean if I wasn't so damn unrealistic about everything I probably wouldn't feel this way. I just want to be twenty-three, engaged, happy. That way I would know my life is going to work out. That way I would KNOW someone, somewhere is going to be with me. I know I'm just eighteen, but I got a real fear about being alone. And the funny thing is, if I had dated any of those other boys who had liked me--I would have just been dating them so I wasn't alone. But you know why I'm dating David?

Because I love him. Plain and simple.

Now if I could just find out if he feels that way too.

NO. NOT THE SHRIEKING SHACK. :O

So, we drove up to the river today. Eight long freaking hours in the cramped HHR. Wouldn't have been that back if the car wasn't so damn small. However, it was still a treat as always. My parents tried to tell us we were traveling up the bridge again after the small bend and Katie fell for it. "It's always better after dark," my mother said.

After the bridge it takes several turns and hills and leaps and bounds to get to my grandparents' house. I always look forward to the same things. The deer running across the road, the sun falling behind the rolling land across the river. However, I was disappointed to find one of my favorite attractions was missing.

A house--old, decrepit, a "no tresspassing" sign posted on the door and molding rotten wood falling off the walls. It wasn't even a comfort.

IT LOOKED JUST LIKE THE SHRIEKING SHACK.

And they tore it down.

LAME.

However, everything else sat exactly as I had left it last. Same flowers, same plants, weird smiley flag (that was new) and the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce drifting through the air.

The only thing that was really different was my grandparents' incredibly quirky cat. He "lives" at their house, but his mother comes to pick him up every so often and they disappear for, sometimes, days at a time. I saw him at the door and tried to let him in, but he only ran away, disappearing behind a bush that was just barely out of my reach. Plus, his angry mother sat in front of him and something's telling me I shouldn't cross her.

Having weird animals in the house only makes me feel more comfortable. But that's a story for a different day.

Haha. Home sweet home.

ROAD TRIP WITH THE FAM? HELL YES.

Remember that time when I was discussing how strange my family is? Yeah it's about to get a lot weirder. Tomorrow we embark on journey to the Thousand Islands territory (would be a territory?) of upstate New York to visit my grandparents, my mom's parents. It's basically my most favorite place in the world. Kayaking at dawn, fishing for pike at dusk, swimming (...haha, NOT) and drinking mimosas at breakfast! WOOT! However, to get to this wonderful ethereal place, one has to drive eight hours with my chaotic family.

This means a lot of things. Eighties music, hats, really bad "family" games and countless other things such as my parent's dueting to Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow's "Picture." Strange. And not just in that "I'm a teenager and I don't feel like doing anything with my family."

First of all, by hour three my sister and I both have the Ipods in so we don't realize it when the eighties music begins. This usually consists of bad solos sung by both my parents (mostly my mother) until Caroline and I come to realize what is actually going on.

Hat time is a wondrous time. It's been a part of my reality since I was really young. It's exactly as it sounds. Those who don't have hats are ridiculed for the rest of the ride. It's like one of those very strange traditions that no one questions anymore. When my sister decided to bring her friend Katie with her on this trip, she warned her and TOLD her to bring a hat for hat time. Katie didn't. Good luck Katie! :D

If one has played "Animal, vegetable, mineral" they know it's a game where one person thinks of an animal, vegetable...or mineral and the other person has to ask questions until he or she knows what the first person is thinking of. In my family we play our own version of the game called "Horse, donkey, mule." Think of a famous horse, donkey or mule and you're in. In the past few weeks we even expanded this game to "Horse, donkey, mule, z-donk (a cross between a zebra and donkey), unicorn, hippogriff (if you don't know what a hippogriff is, x out of this blog RIGHT NOW.)

Ahem.

My life.

So basically, drives with the fam are strange and slightly difficult, but extremely fun for most, if not all, hours of the trip.

The best is when we finally do arrive in the territory and have to cross the Thousand Islands Bridge--a large green bridge that connects us to Wellesley Island (where my grandparents live.) When we go, we cross the bridge and then have to loop around this little bend and for a split second, it looks like we might travel back up the bridge.

"OH! HERE WE GO! WE'RE GOING UP THE BRIDGE AGAIN!"

My father always, and I mean always, hollers.

Even when no one new is there.

:]

Eight hours with the fam? LET'S GO!

I'm thinking of a horse, donkey, mule, z-donk, unicorn or hippogriff. If you guessed Buckbeak, THEN YOU WIN! :D

Here's a little nostalgia for ya. Anyone who's known me since the sixth grade might laugh. :D

Olivia felt her heart fill up with a sense of familiar. This had happened, what? A dozen times before? But this time it felt different. Angrier, quicker. Impatient. It was like inside their timers were ringing. It was wrong, it was all so wrong. The lives they had both believed they would live so sincerely were gone. Their life. Gone. They had been warming up to this idea for ages, nothing forgotten, only buried. Now it all seemed caught up, they were supposed to be engaged, happy, wedding planning. Anxiously awaiting the time where they could have guilt-free sex (and guilt-free babies.). It was all wrong. So very wrong.

“What do you think I’m here for, Liv?” Shaun’s voice was deep, tired.

Olivia watched a remote spot ahead of her. “Hell if I know.”

“Come on,” Shaun coaxed. He stepped a little closer to her, until the tips of his boots were resting against her moccasins. He towered over her, the freckle-face of his childhood crush and the woman he was still wanted to marry. The woman he was supposed to marry. It had seemed destined since middle school. Or maybe that was just naivety. All things were possible.

He wanted to marry her.

But Olivia was difficult—so difficult. Even with all of Shaun’s skill.

He looked down at her and tapped the tip of her chin with his forefinger. She directed her glance up and took a deep breath. Always taken aback by the same things—one of which were the eyes. Blue. So much fucking blue. Olivia rolled her eyes.

Shaun’s pupils dilated, but Olivia only scowled up at him.

“What do you want, Shaun?” she asked and turned her face from him. It was such a complex feeling; she couldn’t even tell if it was love anymore. She wasn’t going to marry a man because she wanted to have sex with him, that seemed all too idiotic, but at the same time sounded like it would be fun, for the lack of a better word. That is for the minute and a half it would actually work. It was such an infuriating feeling, that one, she thought. That one when she was so sure, so convinced she would marry him. They were going to be twenty-two, their flowers would be daisies, the ceremony would take place at her church, in their town on the third of May. But now, everything was different.

And Olivia wasn’t so sure that she WASN’T okay with that. She liked Derek. He had red hair too, her mother had already set her heart on having beautiful red-haired freckly grandchildren, whereas the offspring of Olivia and Shaun would have been extremely English and extremely dark-haired, light skin, freckled nosed and, most importantly, blue-eyed.

Or else, that’s what Olivia always hoped. I mean, if she was going to let the dominant traits of Shaun Somebody take over the DNA of her future child, she at least hoped that would include his blue eyes.

And suddenly, she was insane again. Confused. Amorous. Angry. Extremely angry. She wanted to marry him. She always had. She didn’t want red-headed children all that much anyway. She wanted Shaun’s children, no matter what that meant.

She wanted his blue eyes. She didn’t want them to go away again. When they did she dreamt, literally dreamt of them and forgot about them in the morning when she woke up. Something always felt out of place, just very strange. And she always had a bittersweet feeling when she woke up. So calm, collected and pleasant, but at the same time unsatisfied. Like she couldn’t wait to fall back asleep again, even though she couldn’t remember what she had been dreaming about anyway.

“Olivia,” Shaun said, his voice indignant. “You know what I’m here for.”

Olivia bit her upper lip. “What do you want?” she asked and walked close to him again. “Do you want to sleep with me?” she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe you just want to make things a little bit more complicated.”

He furrowed his brow and closed his eyes for a moment. She waited diligently for them to open again. “No,” he said tiredly. “How can you even believe that? You know me better than that. You know I’m not an asshole and you sure as hell know I’m not going to take advantage of you. When has that ever happened? When have I ever tried to just sleep with you?”

“Well, you certainly don’t want to be with me. You have a girlfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend!”

“And so, what are we talking about?”

Shaun stopped. “We’re talking about-,” he stopped and thought back. “Okay, stop this is crazy. We’re not even talking about anything. You’re just flying off the handle for nothing.”


[I WILL CONTINUE THIS MOMENTARILY WHEN MY INSPIRATION IS BACK. OR AFTER I GET SOME CAFFEINE INTO MY SYSTEM. :D]

WTF? ARE THERE ANY OTHER GAY GUYS IN THE WORLD TO DATE ME? AND/OR BECOME BEST FRIENDS WITH ME? ARE THERE?

Numero cuatro.



WHY IS EVERY BOY I MEET GAY?



No. Really. This is a dilemma.



It's such a dilemma that I would consider it as number four. NUMBER FOUR. ARE YOU SERIOUS? I mean, see, the real problem is that the ones who AREN'T gay, still...are. My boyfriend is. Let's be honest. I tried to explain to him one day, while walking to class after lunch, that it doesn't matter how many girls you have on your arms if you're singing showtunes. Just sayin'.



Yeah. Haha. NOT FUNNY.



And this isn't the first one. My first gay boyfriend was Robert. Didn't come out of the closet until after we started dating. Our relationship lasted a week, exactly. I remember, it was a Wednesday to a Wednesday. WTF? NOT COOL. However, I don't know why I was so surprised. He once told me he wasn't sure what his plans would be for the night because he didn't know if he wanted to, "Go to the cast party or see the Hannah Montana movie." I mean, let's be honest. I should have seen that one coming.



My mother warned me too. Again and again and again. However, she loved every minute of it. So many jokes came from this one-week relationship. I made her promise to stop making fun of us and then he broke up with me. Meh. Eff that.



"Kellsey, I think I'm falling in love with you." BULLSHIT. Bull. Shit.



And THEN, I started dating David "who is equally homosexual." (I put it in quotes because Mary is sitting next to me and being a BITCH and "DEMANDS recognition for her words.") :D I mean...he doesn't technically like boys...as far as we know, but he's still pretty gay.

Okay, if you just read that and you know me...

Don't let it be spread around.

AND WHY ARE THEY ALL SO DAMN SENSITIVE ABOUT THEIR MASCULINITY. If David read that he'd be pissed. So very angry. I KNOW YOU'RE NOT GAY.

When we first started dating I took to calling him "Gayvid" which I found to be very clever if I do say so myself, but David didn't really warm up to it and actually started getting angry and so I stopped.

I'm kind of a bitch. I guess. Like whatever.

And that doesn't even count all of my gay friends, just friends, who come out to me and tell me their secrets. And discuss their crushes. I remember the first one who came out of the closet to me. Well, I was the second person who heard. It was in the seventh grade.

And it was all downhill from there.

WTF? My mother actually suggested when she found out I was going to be a creative writing major in college that I take at least one engineering class. "You're not going to meet any heterosexual people, Kellsey." Those were the words of my MOTHER. SHE'S even worried. What? Am I going to get sucked into some homosexuality vortex? Am I going to become a lesbian? Will more boys lay out there souls for me? Ugh. Dear God.

No really. Dear God,

It would be cool if I could meet some heterosexual guys some time in the future. Or else. Well. My head might explode.

Much love,

Ginger Snaps. :D

(I called myself Ginger Snaps because I have red hair. Thought that might make things a little less confusing. No. Actually, it's probably still pretty weird. Whatever. I don't really care.)

Cute days with no cars. Eff that.

I woke up today with really big knotty hair, wearing an over-sized tie-dye t-shirt and cropped sweatpants. I glanced at the clock. 12:01.

12:01? WHAT? When did I become a teenager?

While a part of me is perplexed because I never sleep past nine, the other part of me feels particularly disgusting. Summer time is when my perfect cute outfits really go down the toilet. I mean, I shower and everything still (sometimes ;]) but I just don't really try as hard. That's why I decided to dress up and put on my new wedges, blow dry my hair, do my makeup, that sorta thing. All to discover there is no car in the driveway. I was supposed to meet my roommate today. So much for that. Thanks parentals.

So I'm sitting in my house, looking adorable mind you, without a car or any other means of transportation since all my friends work every second of their lives.

Gah. Unfortunate.

This is the first day I've looked moderately attractive in a very long time. The boyfriend isn't here either. So basically I've gotten all dressed up to see my friends Mary and Frank, who are dating incidentally and are about as interested in seeing me cute as they are Frank's two-year-old miniature poodle Suzie. Perhaps I should give up and stop trying completely.

Either way, yesterday Alanah basically sexually harassed my boyfriend to the furthest she could without actually insulting him or me. She was literally straddling him on my living room floor, asking him question after question about his...sexual prowess, I'm guessing we could call it. He answered each question like the average five-year-old would (which I generally equate him to be about five years old), by giggling.

:I

My reaction exactly.

Later he escaped her grasp by running out of the room and outside, then running back inside through the front door and hiding in the bathroom. I felt like a middle-schooler all over again. Later while searching for him Alanah and I ran out the back door and Alanah tripped down the back steps, flipping over a few times and spraining her ankle. My family has this rule where if someone hurts themselves, you ask if they're okay and if they are, you are fully allowed to laugh. However, Alanah was hurt, so I didn't laugh. Even though the fall was quite impressive.

Haha. Sexual harassment. Always a good laugh.

Hey, teen novel idea. Right hurrrr. :D

"You in?" asked Olivia daringly.

[Ahem. Olivia is my "pen name" almost. No, that's not true. But it's the closest I can get to what it's actually called. I use the name Olivia to replace my own in real life situations that I like to document. That might not make sense to non-writers, or even to writer-writers, but it's what I do.]

Daniel gulped. "If you're in," he said and looked up into my eyes--blue, blue, blue eyes. So much of it, I could feel myself drowning. Being enveloped into the soothing pools of blue. "I'm in."

[Daniel is mah "bffl" as my friend Alanah would say. "Boyfriend for life." This makes no sense for several reasons that I'm not going into. It's just another illustration of the oddities that are my friends. Daniel isn't his real name and...I don't know if I feel like saying his real name yet or even if any of this really happened. I may have actually already said his real name, but I'm sure as hell not doing it now.]

These words did not come easily, but truthfully. It wasn't like he was convincing himself of anything, but more that he was having trouble admitting that they were, indeed, true. Because they were. And some things just were. However, accepting that. Accepting the fact that some things in life just "were" without logical explanation as to why was a very complex idea for Daniel to understand.

It just was. We just were. Together. Why? Your guess is as good as mine, but I'm not sure there even was a reason. "Some thing's just are," I had said this during a particularly heated argument earlier that month. (And by argument I mean, me trying to stir up some sort of inner controversy within Daniel, but failing miserably.)

"What does that have to do with anything?" Daniel blustered. His poor mind could not grasp the fact that I was just mad at him. I can't really remember if he'd done anything or if I was just in a rotten mood, but either way--we were fighting. "Some things? What do you mean by some things?"

"Not everything can be rationalized!" I shouted and walked into the kitchen. Daniel followed me from the living room still wearing a confused expression upon his sweet, sweet face. "Some things in life just are the way they are because that's the way things are and you can't just label everything in your bizarre little scientific mathematical book of why everything in the world is the way it is!"

Daniel took a deep breath. "Go again."

I shook my head. I was angry, so very angry. I just wanted him to love me. To really, really love me. The way I did him. And I was frustrated that at the moment it didn't appear he did or that he ever would and I wanted him to so, so badly. I wanted him and his entire being and I wanted him to want me in that same way, but I wouldn't voice this.

"Sometimes," I began again, "things just are. Like us. We just ARE."

"What do you mean 'we just are'? We just are what?"

"WE JUST ARE!" I yelled again. "We're together. We're people. You're a boy. I'm a girl. My name is Olivia. Yours is Daniel. We just ARE as we ARE. And no, I'm not saying that there isn't a grander plan for everything, but you can't just know it."

"I know that," he said calmly. He never got angry, never ever. He got upset, but never angry. Fighting was always me yelling at him because he never yelled back, which only made me angrier, which made him sadder. It was a vicious circle. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"No," I said. "I don't think you do."

He gulped. Why was he always gulping? Why did I make him so nervous? Why didn't he care? Why wouldn't he fight with me? Why did I want to be with him?

"I'm sorry," he apologized. A completely unnecessary apology I'll tell you. "It's just difficult for me to let go."

And like that my heart fell back into place and I felt terrible. I didn't mean to yell at him. So we'd start over and I'd remind myself again and again. This is just him, he DOES care. I swear to you, he DOES.

So here we were. So close to breaking up. "I'm in," he said. The boy who always wanted things to be simple, clean-cut, right there decided, after second-thinking himself, that he still wanted to be with me. He wanted me and that's all I could ever ask for, right?

Harry Potter--A near perfect new god. Okay. Whatever. Just read the damn post.

Numero tres:

First things first, just asked Noah how school was. His response was, "Good. NO! WAIT! WAIT! WHAT DID YOU ASK? NO!"

Haha. Love it.

So the third thing about my life. It's the thing that really pushes my life past mildly amusing and into hilariously gut-busting.

I am a very strange person.

I never pretend that this isn't true. Ever. I spend my time with a wide-spread group of friends who are easily just as strange as I am. For many reasons. My good friend Mary bought me a squid hat for my birthday (if you're wondering what a squid hat is, it's a large fleece hat that rises a foot and a half above my head with tentacles falling from the sides and big bulgy eyes coming out the top). Yes, a SQUID hat. About 80% of all conversations with my boyfriend David eventually fade into anything that concerns Harry Potter. As it is with many of my other friends meaning that anyone who doesn't like Harry Potter generally has a pretty difficult time fitting in with us because we have so many debates about "Snape's reasoning for staring into Harry's eyes." *SPOILER ALERT FOR ALL YOU "HP FANS" WHO STILL HAVEN'T READ THE SEVENTH BOOK: (fake HP fans in my personal opinion. I mean...what?) Snape's looking into Lily's eyes. COUGH.

So, yes. I'm a character. Point proven. Accept it now or never enjoy reading my goofy posts again.

Another large portion of my time is devoted to watching this bizarre dub-over of the Sorcerer's Stone. I nearly pee myself every time. Check this shit out, bitches. (However, if you aren't as strange as I am, I do not condone your viewing of this video. If you are not going to appreciate it, then don't watch it.)

HARRY POTTER--THE NEAR PERFECT NEW GOD

Watch the "Dear Reader, Wizard People" series and prepare to be amazed.

I showed my athletic cousins this video and the conversation went a little like this.

Tricia (a skinny tan girl who plays varsity soccer): "Um. Wait, what did he just say?"
Me: He's talking about the boy holding the quaffle. Calling him the "ugliest boy in the world" it's because the boy is in Slytherin.
Tricia: (said with a particularly stuck-up tone) What's Slytherin?

Okay, die. My heart skipped a beat when she said that. To not know such simple information, the thought of it makes my skin crawl. Tisk, tisk. But yeah, now you know I'm a huge Harry Potter nerd.

And that's to say nothing of my obsession with Nancy Drew. The games, not the books.

I mean...WHAT?

No, LOLJK. I really do love Nancy Drew games. But in the spirit of sharing youtube videos, watch this video and just try and pretend that it doesn't make you want to pee yourself. In a bad way this time, not a good way.

HOLY SHIT. WHY IS THIS ASIAN CHICK COMING FOR ME?!

So basically, if you don't want to pee yourself. Don't watch these videos.

Haha. Just kidding. Maybe that's just me. ;]

The worst thing is that my life isn't all hilarious. In fact, when I'm not tripping over myself, it's quite serious.

Numero dos:

My family is a ridiculous bunch. They make jokes and drink beer and sing songs to cats and dogs. My mother wrote an entire song about "hippopotamus fights." It had at least five full verses. My father's specialty is really terrible joke-telling. A favorite tidbit is playing tricks on my eight-year-old cousin Noah. When I was a kid, my mother used to babysit my three cousins daily. From sun-up to sun-down. It gave us a lot of time with these kids and during the summers my father would always ask Noah how school was, knowing very well that Noah didn't have school. "Good," Noah always replied nonchalantly and then my father would make whatever "hey gotcha" noises he could think of. As loudly as he could muster. "Ahhhh! I can't believe you fell for it again!"

Just a ridiculous group of people, but the strangest most unexpected part about my family is that we deal with a lot of serious shit. A lot, a lot. I could name ten kids right now who my family has attempted to save from lousy home lives. And I'm not just talking about conversing with these kids. My best friend Alexis nearly moved in with my family in the beginning of sophomore year because her crappy parents decided to unexplainably move all eight children down to Florida. My mother painted the room a soothing shade of lavender and bought a big wooden "A" from wherever Better Homes suggested. My parents put their hearts and souls into that room and I mean that in the least gay way possible. And then, once Alexis had been moved in for a week, her father came and essentially kidnapped his own daughter. Since then she's really not better. She's much, much worse. For reasons I can't explain on the internet.

I don't know if it's a trade off or if it's a fact of life, but even with my selfless parents and cozy home, my life is stock-piled with shitty situations. Sure, I am never TECHNICALLY in one of these situations, but I watch kid after kid after kid be used, abused, neglected and just generally knocked down again and again and again. This was why my parents nearly adopted foster child Jay. Nearly. He left a few days ago. For good. He finally pushed my parents to the place where they couldn't return from.

It's just so unbelievable sometimes. Meeting kids like myself who have totally healthy home lives is such a refreshing surprise when it happens.

I'm not going to pretend that my life isn't hilarious most of the time. I got some wonderful stories up my sleeve friends, but I guess all I can say is that life is most certainly NOT black and white. And trashy teen novels, more importantly, anything written by Meg Cabot is generally shallow and one-sided. All you hear about when you read these books are encounters from generally "unfortunate" girls with "super hot" teenage boys with dirty blond hair and sunkissed skin. The unfortunate girl always trips or says something embarassing in front of the boy and it's always the end of the world.

Why is that?

That's why this is real. My teen novel, if I decide to write one, will be about real situations that are funny and are unfortunate, but always have real understandably serious situations mixed between. It's important to have the balance. I mean, I don't want to sound like shallow drunken whore every second of my life, do you?

First Post: Horror movies suck (at least in my personal opinion, every time I wake up at 3:15, I think I'm possessed)...much like my life.

Numero uno:

My life is hilarious. It was something I learned a very long time ago. Perhaps it was as early as second grade when I kicked a kid in the balls for making fun of me (I later referred to it as "kicking him down there" to my mother who told me I was wrong, but inside condoned every second of it) or it could have been as late as ninth grade when I went on a date with my childhood crush, which later turned into a long-term relationship. It could have been early or late when I realized this...but nevertheless, it's true.

When you're destined to have unfortunately hilarious things happen to you, you can do one of two things. You can (1) try to hide it, feel embarrassed when others pick on you for it and act defensive in the process or you can (2) embrace every second of it because, the truth of the matter is, your hilarious encounters with large objects conking you in the head and dates with obviously flamboyant boys make other people giggle. In the end, that's all I want. I want you to laugh.

So if that means at my expense, hey, take it. I don't have pride. When you're constantly avoiding basketballs thrown at your head (and I'm not just talking about "that one time in third grade gym class) and stairs (stairs are a big one) you learn that pride can't exist. If you're gonna have pride and be tragically clumsy at the same time, then you can basically say goodbye to ever being happy again. You gotta accept your stupidity. One step at a time.

Basically I'm gonna tell you all my funny stories and you're gonna either laugh or feel embarrassed for me...or both. I don't really care. As long as you're entertained, I'm happy. :D