Good luck exploring the infinite abyss.

"I still feel at home in my house..."
"You'll see one day, when you move out, it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know? You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start. It's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

Dad was actually quite upset that Jon showed me Garden State last night, but it was such a wonderful movie. Aside from the excessive use of the F word; that just got obnoxious. But aside from that... ah. I'm in love with the script.

And this moment.

First things first...

My boy Evan didn't win, which was sad. I actually think I would've liked it best if Erin and Maks won, because it would be so unexpected... I mean everyone pegged Nicole as the winner from the beginning. Ah, predictability. Oh well. Evan, I still love you. And Maks too... well, we'll sort that out somehow. ;)

So I'm trying to figure out itunes. It's easy enough to upload actual cd's, but how do you upload mix cd's and make it so each song doesn't create its own album? I want a way to combine all the random songs to an album. Or is that what playlists are for...? I'm lost.

Also, I'm immensely tired. Amelia and I were talking today about how we've both been so out of it recently... she goes, "Laura, think about it. We don't really eat, we don't exercise, we drink coffee ALL the time, and we don't drink water."

"That's true," I say. "I probably drink about a cup of water a day. But you're only supposed to drink, what, four...?"

"EIGHT. Water bottles."

I stare at her in disbelief. "Amelia. We're dying."

I am acutely conscious of the fact that both of us are more than a little loopy and definitely unhealthy at this point of our teenage years, when she looks at me with surprise. "What? We're brilliant!"

Einstein, Portraits, and Australians

Well, as I've been out of school for a week now, I figure it's about time for another long ramble. I've missed them, and my mind has gotten far too cluttered without them. Only, now I can't really think of anything to say. Ain't that the way? I'm listening to music on headphones and my mother is watching a second episode of 'Law and Order'. Dad's at my computer, writing emails. I wish he would follow the unspoken rules and use the Adult Computer that's out here in the hallway, and let me use the Laura Computer that's in the new-room where one can close a door and therefore listen to music as loudly as one wants. But this is not the case, and it is sad. So I sit here between files and tax reports and a marked up calendar with inspirational quotes from people like Einstein about joy and how ice cream solves everything. Also, there is a printer that's invading my shins' personal space. But this can't be helped.

I suppose there's a sort of person out there who thinks, "Summer! I can hang out with people as much as I want!" For me, it seems to be more like, "Summer! I can avoid people as much as I want!" I suppose that makes me more of an introvert. And it's not because I'm shy... it's because, sometimes, I honestly want to be left alone. I'm much more relaxed that way. I'm looking forward to a day when I don't even have to step out of the house at all. Just one day like that is all I need, and then I'll be alright. But still... I need one. Then I can do whatever I like and not be thinking, "Alright, so I have one hour to do this, and one hour to do that, and at so-and-so o'clock I'll be here." That's been my mind all semester and I can't stand it any more. I just need to breathe, drink another cup of coffee, and think, "I could very well stay here for another few hours if I wanted to."

OH. Last Thursday I went to my very first baseball game. I went with Amelia and her family to watch Mark and Ryan and Josh. Amelia and I sat there the whole time trying to figure out what was going on... we ended up making up our own rules to explain things. Then afterwards at dinner Mr. Gutierrez explained the rules to me and it all made sense - would've been better 3 hours earlier, but hey. Next game I'll know what's what. The only thing I completely didn't understand until later was the matter of the Australians. Apparently it's common to shout "Good eye, so-and-so!" when a batter doesn't swing at a bad pitch. I didn't know this. So for half the game, I was wondering what was with the crazy Australians in front of me who kept shouting, "G'daye, Ryan!", or "G'daye, Nick!". (I mean how many times is it appropriate to greet someone?)

Now I know I'm not a stupid individual. But when it comes to sports, I suppose I am a stupid girl.

Mom cut my hair today. I have a problem with this... hair-cutting, I mean, not the job she did. Each time I get it cut I want it shorter than the previous time. One day I'll just go and have it shaved. Actually if someone paid me to do it I probably would. But people know that, so no one will make the bet. Sad.

I really should be reading, or doing SOMETHING. But I've always enjoyed writing... even if I don't know who I'm writing to. Hello. I don't believe I'm writing to anyone in particular at all, really. But writing letters has always been fun. For some reason, especially to my brother. Our letters (when the boy does write back) ought to be published one day. Not that we're elitists or anything, oh no. OH, yesterday I drew a self portrait. It was pretty good. Interesting to see how my self-image has changed, even in the past few months. In January I drew a portrait of myself from looking in a mirror, and I looked all short and dark and pudgy and angsty; very heavy shadows. The one I drew yesterday is much lighter, and I'm wearing my glasses, and my face is more realistically proportioned and elongated. I don't know whether I've become a more positive individual or simply a more arrogant one. It could very well be both.

I miss my siblings. Although (and I'm not sure if this is normal or not) it's only rarely that I think to. Usually it's much easier to forget that they lived here once, and that I used to see them every day. It's easier to assume that life has always been this way - quiet, grown-up, surrounded by people above the age of 40. Talking about things like doctors and bills and prayer requests. When I think of how things used to be I get very melancholy. When it's just me, here, I feel mature... when I'm around people my own age, I feel old. I often have a hard time thinking of things to say that will connect with people. It's new to me, and uncomfortable. So long as I can distance myself from the things I miss, I'm alright. But I don't know how healthy that is.

That was random. However, I'm pretty much out of other things to say. So I will go to bed - or at least, go upstairs, where I will probably spend time rearranging things that look fine the way they are. Such is the life of an OCD individual like myself....

G'daye, world. ;)

Ehem.

Okay so I know LOST has a reputation of being pretty ridiculous... and I was really not expecting to be satisfied by tonight's finale... but seriously.

WHAT?!

Bah.

Normally if something bothers or scares me, I feel an odd sort of need to watch it closer or think about it deeper than anyone else. That way I get a satisfied sort of feeling when other people talk about being afraid of it; I feel a gloomy pride in the fact that I could handle it and they can't. Hm, maybe I'm a masochist, I don't know. But with all this in mind, I've never hated a book so incredibly as I hated Lord of the Flies. Normally if I dislike a book it's because it wasn't well-written, or I didn't like the style, or I couldn't connect with it... but the book was extremely well-written and I marked it up a ton so it's none of that. For some reason it just really affected me and I think it does come down to being afraid of it. Which is odd for me.

And now I'm annoyed with it, because when people hate things because they're afraid of them, I assume they're being weak. But I actually felt physically sick while I was finishing the book last night (at 2 AM... woops.). I told my parents I didn't like it and my mom said, "It's hard to face the truth, isn't it?" I hate that, too. I know people are screwed up - I didn't need to read 200 pages of little boys killing each other with sticks to prove it to myself. I don't know, I guess it does scare me, sure. But it's more than that, too. It just felt evil.

Idea I will probably never follow through on.

I've been thinking alot about what's permissible in today's society (and obviously wouldn't have been, even thirty years ago) and how things that might be frowned upon are excused because of society's negative impacts. The idea that people have no other choice but to be what they are, so we should be empathetic and accept them anyway. If this were taken to an extreme (which it may be, a short while from now), it could make an interesting story.

Freeway cars and trucks, stars beginning to fade.

What a beautiful grey day. I hope it stays like this... for some reason I feel smarter on drizzly grey days. haha. They're a little melancholy, of course, rainy days especially... I think those are a little like alcohol, to be frank. It doesn't constantly make you happy or sad, it just heightens whatever emotion you're feeling. (This by my own guesswork, obviously...) Anyyyywayy.

My French Final is today, huzzah! Have to admit, I'm a little nervous simply because I'm NOT nervous... and there's a strange belief that one should always feel nervous before going into a test. I'm not quite sure how to study for the final, though. I don't have any exercises to be doing, or workbook pages or anything. All I can do is look over my past tests, which I've done. Still feel unprepared, but ah well. I've been getting consistent A's (with one B, drat it) in this class, so I should be fine.

I was torn between wanting to clean when I got home, and wanting to read... I feel a little weird though (not to mention exceedingly tired) so I think I'll go with the reading. My wrists hurt and I'm really hoping it's not carpal-tunnel, although I've been typing everything since I was eight so I wouldn't really be surprised if it was. Blast this generation.

Well then there now.

La vie est belle encore.

Ah, the world is beautiful again. I retook the wretched math final and, this time 'round, got 54 out of 60 for a whopping 90%! Yay yay and yay. So I left the wretched math lab for the last wretched time and met Amelia for coffee in the cafeteria, and then we went up to the roof and sat there talking about how everyone has boyfriends except us. It's strange, because I honestly don't care. Perhaps I'm more picky than other girls... but I don't see this as a bad thing. Anyway. Laura met us and we sat up there until a swarm of bees decided to attack, at which time we high-tailed it inside and then Mom came and picked me up. We celebrated with Jack-in-the-Box (which, unlike Ventura kids, I am not above enjoying), and came home... and for whatever reason Kate came home for the weekend, which is lovely :) Although, she picked a lousy time, because I've got to spend tonight reading "Lord of the Flies" (which I put off until the day BEFORE the day it's due... smart, Laura.) and the weekend will be spent studying for the French final on Monday. BUT, that's not a big deal. Even if I do terribly on the final, I'm still pretty sure I'm getting an A in that class.

I also realized today that all of my blogs are about school. I tried to find out why that is... I mean, blogs should be about your life and thoughts, y'know? Then I realized. My life and thoughts ARE school. This is a depressing thought. BUTTTTTT. It will all be over Monday. Freedom is within reach now.

And then I will write about weird things, like what I had for dinner, or how I need to marry Russians (yes, ALL of them), or the many different ways that one can potentially terrorize a cat. Exciting, no?

It was pain, sunny days and rain.

Minus the rain. So yesterday I took the comprehensive exam in Int. Algebra, which I needed to get 88% to pass and be able to take the final. Yesterday (less than 24 hours, mind), I got 100%. I was floating around happily all day, assuming that the final (which I only needed 75% to pass) was in the bag. Think again, Laura. I took the final today and got 70%. This is the first test I've EVER failed. It's so ridiculous. So I have to go back tomorrow and try to retake it. Only, now I'm extremely depressed with myself and don't even want to bother. If I fail it again, I have to retake the class in the fall instead of moving on to College Algebra (which I would be taking with some friends. Finally.). Major disappointment. I can't believe I went from 100 to 70 in ONE DAY! How is that even POSSIBLE??? Granted, I was extremely nervous about the French Oral Final, which was today - and, which I actually did really well on. Also, I DID end up doing the bonus point thing in French and I think I did well on that, too. So that's one success for the day. But still. Not really enough to put me in a good mood.

Now I have to spend the whole night studying so I can retake and pass the stupid final. I know I'm being overly dramatic, but it's just so discouraging.

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

Seven days. Seven days that will be horrible and evil and wretched... BUT! I shall survive. Because come next Tuesday, I begin sleeping in to ridiculous times, spending hours and hours writing or drawing or playing solitaire, traveling off to far and distant lands, AND.... cleaning my room. And bathroom. They are a horrible mess. But I will clean them because I will have TIME! Lots and lots of time... Time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea. Someday I will have this poem memorized. I once knew the first half, but I'm afraid I've forgotten much of it.

Anyway. This is no time for recreational reading, however enjoyable it may be. This is the time for KILLING FINALS.

Help #2

Homework has no shame. Here I am, doing my best to finish it, and somehow it is increasing and multiplying and there is no end in sight. I find myself getting discouraged quite easily these days... I think finals make me bipolar. I go from being really happy and weird to suddenly realizing how much I have to do, at which point I become a depressed mass of nerves. If you think to, maybe you could say a prayer for me and all the other students who are (no doubt) going through the same thing. Thanks :)

A pox on the phony king of england!

WHO the devil came up with the idea of matrices?! And WHAT are they even for??!? I am in rebellion, so much rebellion, over this matter. Someone explain how this kind of math applies to life and maybe I'll see some reason for its' tyranny. As of now, however, I rant!

Oo-de-lally.

I have a gumbie cat in mind

Feeling better today. I stayed home last night (I was planning on crashing tap dance with Laura) and worked on math for hours, and today when I went into the lab I PASSED the section that was giving me merry hell. So the struggles weren't in vain, and that's a nice feeling. Also, in French today (of which I now have three remaining days - YAY! and ACK!) our teacher had us write 6 sentences about what our life will be like in 20 years. Twenty years. Not that long, right? In 20 years, I will be 37!!!! My life has been flashing through my eyes all afternoon. I suddenly feel old.

But this is silly. Who's to say what's old? As Papa always said, "I intend to live forever. So far, so good."

Anyway. I didn't feel like sleeping last night, so I read the first chapter of the story I finished a while back, until about midnight, and then I went upstairs and took to rearranging my bookshelf and all the books therein. I love books. I love the way they look on a shelf. Unfortunately, I get so wrapped up in collecting them that I forget to read them. Woops. Speaking of reading, our french teacher let us out like a half hour early, so for a half hour I sat on the front lawn of VC and read "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats". TS Eliot = favorite poet ever. I need to read The Wasteland, though. Never have. Is it good? The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is basically my favorite thing ever. What a brilliant man.

Another strange thing about these days, is that I'm never hungry except late at night. Mom always asks what I want for dinner while she's driving me home from school, and I can't even think of food at that time. It's not because I'm full (my school-day diet consists of cereal in the morning. Period.), but food just doesn't sound appealing to me. That is, until 9 or 10 at night. And then I raid the cupboards and find disappointingly that we have no food. So I drink coffee, and I am assuaged. However, because I drink coffee, I can't sleep - so I write, and I write very strange things, until the wee hours of the morning. And when I wake, I'm too tired to eat so I go to school instead. Lather, rinse, repeat. A vicious cycle.

Such is the life of a student, n'est-ce pas?

Help.

Bad day. I've been trying to make a lot of headway in French and Math (both of which finish next week... and I'm FAR from done with.) but all I've managed to do is make myself frustrated. And Mom was trying to help me and I ended up getting HER frustrated. We had a stupid fight about my school load and she left and now I'm home alone and not sure what to do about it. I feel miserable about homework and even more miserable about myself. And I'm too frustrated to do anything girly like cry about it.

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome

There is a feeling that you should just go home,
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is.

I hate black flat shoes. I hate them because I love them so much that I wear them ALL THE TIME, and then they start to smell. And then my feet begin to smell. And no amount of washing can make them better again... and I'm getting tired of saying, "Yes, they smell, I'm sorry" when my mom and I are watching tv.

Anyway.

The Arts Festival thing was last night, and I'll admit I was a little worried... not because I get stage-fright, it's been years since I've gotten stage-fright... I performed a song with Amelia that she wrote (and I assisted), and another song (Yankee Bayonet, woop woop) with Jon, and I was a little nervous because both of them had confided that they were nervous singing in front of people. Amelia in particular... while we were sitting in the audience watching the first half of the program (we weren't until after intermission) I noticed her hands shaking for most of the time. I never know what to tell people to get them out of stage-fright... I understand it, but I don't know how to counteract it. I simply don't have it. Anyway. Both the songs went excellently! Aside from some minorly psychotic microphones. I love performing, I love music, I love stages and I LOVE looking out and seeing the audience and being able to interact with them... and these I probably love too much. Last year I got a bit of a high off of just performing ONE song... last night I had two. sigh.

The bummer is that, now that I have the assurance that I have a good voice, I don't really have a way to do anything with it. I wish I could have one of those rooms with the computers and keyboards and mics and all the recording equipment... I've got about 15 songs I've written in the last few years that I feel are (some more than others) pretty much ready to be recorded. But I don't really have a means to that end. Ah well... just have to wait and see, I guess. If all else fails, I can always play for the homeschoolers... haha.

In other news, French oral final is a week from Wednesday, and the written final is two weeks from today. Then I am free. I get a bit of a thrill when I think of that, only, then I remember how much work and stress and death comes with finals, and I feel a sudden terror. I'm trying to decide how much 50 bonus points are worth to me in that class... because there's an impossibly hard assignment due next Wednesday, if I so decide that the bonus points ARE worth it. I'm kind of thinking that I won't bother with the bonus things, though, because I'm already getting an A in it anyway. But I'm not sure... my perfectionist nature and my sane, reasonable, if-you-do-this-you-will-die nature are at odds recently.

Did I ever mention that I failed miserably at growing out my nails? Miserably. This is sad.

Gahhhhh, I'm so tired of school. I want to be doing something amazing that I love and that makes me feel accomplished. I want to do what I did last night. I want to not worry about good grades and all the stress that comes with them. I'm ready to be done with this... next course, please?