And she took a small silver wreathe and pinned it onto me,
She said, "This one will bring you love."
And I don't know if it's true,
But I keep it for good luck.
Hello. I haven't got anything to write about really, and I ought to be asleep right now considering the fact that I won't really be sleeping for the next two days... but. I've been in a bit of a rut lately and when I'm in a rut I don't write, or talk to people much, in all honesty... and then people get worried because they haven't heard from me. (These are true facts - not just my assumptions. The other day a friend asked if I've ever had suicidal urges. I haven't, by the way.) No, I've just been a bit worn down lately, that's all. Lots of things going on this month - lots of things to finish up, and lots of things to start before I can finish them... you know. Normal end-of-the-semester stuff. Including planning my classes for next semester. Last night I looked at the list I've been working on, and I'm at 20 units for the fall. I told that to Mom and she put her head in her hands and said, "I don't want to live with you and 20 units!" I told her that I didn't, either. The trouble is that I've got classes that I need to take, but also a bunch of classes that I want to take, before I leave VC forever. Since fall semester will be my last (hopefully), I want to take all the classes that I've ever considered "fun", in addition to the ones that I still need for GE. So it's kind of tough... I could do 20 units, but I also need to get a job, and I'll still be driving Betty 4 hours a week, as well as teaching a class at Groups. (Amelia and I are teaching "Color and Design". Classes there are considered full at 12 students, and so far we've got 13. By the way... THAT'S pretty crazy. And cool. Our class description was pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself...) In any case. I might have to sacrifice one of my fun classes, like tap dance, if it comes to that. Which would be sad... I'd love to break out my tap shoes again and have another semester of that. But I suppose getting a job and making money and going to Ireland is necessary. And totally worth it.
Agh, it's almost midnight. I need sleep. I'm going to Disneyland with my graduating class tomorrow! Haven't been there since my 12th birthday, so I'm excited. It'll be weird, though... I've never gone with anyone other than my family, and we all pretty much like the same rides and things... so going with a group of like 20 people will be a bit different. Still fun though, hopefully.
Alrighty, I'm going to bed. Rest assured that things are alright here. Granted, if you think to, I could probably use some prayers... I've got to beat these mean reds. I can't let them get the best of me, especially this month. But when I'm thinking clearly, I know that things are going to be alright - I've got good music and good coffee (when I make it, anyway), and I can see a few stars through my window at night when I'm going to sleep. I hope conditions are similar in whatever corner of the world you find yourself in these days.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
And I'm not so strong,
to be satisfied by all the things I've done,
Or the things I threw away.
You know what's silly? I've been home for almost an hour and have done nothing except change into comfortable clothes, drink a cup of coffee and get myself a bowl of chips. We had an exam in history tonight, and Amelia and I both finished in about 20 minutes, so I drove us around for awhile (since it was the prettiest time of the evening to be up in the hills), dropped her off at about 8:30, and was home by 9. I should be finishing up biology lab homework (due tomorrow), and if I were a really good student, I'd get a head-start on tomorrow's lab so that I'm not stressed and confused all morning. I might also get to work now so that I can actually get a good amount of sleep tonight. But at the present moment I feel rather incapable of doing anything but sitting here and listening to music and writing and eating tortilla chips.
I don't know exactly why today was so particularly crushing, but it was. Last night, in fact, I told Amelia that I've been feeling a breakdown coming for a few days now... well, I didn't breakdown today, at least not in tears or anything. I just kind of feel... depleted. I've got an insane month ahead and nothing left to give. I'm running off of steam. Today when I was home for an hour between work and school, Mom walked into the room and I told her something to that effect... she had just accepted an invitation to have lunch with someone from church and she told me, "If I'd known you were in the mood to talk, I wouldn't have just agreed to lunch." I told her that I wasn't really in the mood to talk - I haven't been for weeks. I didn't realize that until I said it. Even when I've been hanging out with Amelia lately - either she's been doing all the talking or else we just sit there together in silence and think. I was trying to think of why that is, and the only thing I kept coming up with was Thumper from Bambi saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." Nobody likes to hear people complain. Light things, small-talk, that's different; people can deal with that. But sometimes I say things and nobody, not even the people who know me best, knows what to tell me. I guess that's why people blog, isn't it? You just write things, and you don't have to expect a response. It's nice.
There was a dance on Saturday, one of those 50's themed ones, which means the girls get to wear poodle-skirts made of yards and yards and yards of fabric that twirls out fantastically when they spin. I always love those dances - especially now that I know lindy-hop well enough to look good doing it (generally-speaking...). Saturday's dance was nice - there were actually a few really lovely moments. (Tossed in with some awkward ones, of course... but it wouldn't be a home-school dance without those.) Without a doubt, though, the loveliest part of the night was when I got back into my car to go home, and I realized that I didn't have to drive anyone home. I've gotten so used to doing that that it felt strange to be alone - then I realized that I wasn't tired, and I didn't want to go home, but it was the middle of the night and there was nobody that I could hang out with... so I went driving. I followed the same road out and coasted through the empty roads of the higher foothills, the ones that look over all of the city and the ocean and the oil-rigs on the horizon that are lit up with shimmery yellow lights. The lights of houses and stores, and even the headlights and taillights on the roads, all sort of wax and wane together, so that when viewed from a height, the city seems to pulse. I drove down the road for almost an hour that night.
I wish I could have just kept driving. I don't mean that in a cheesy, cliche, no-one-understands-me-here-and-I-hate-my-life way. Not at all. But the older I get, the more I realize that it is just a truth of life that there are some types of people that simply have to leave. It doesn't matter where they are; they just have to go. I think that's an important thing to realize - I didn't for a long time, so I'd get offended when people would leave and not think about home until they had to come back. I assumed it meant that they didn't love me. Then I started going places on my own and then I understood. It's nothing personal - well, sometimes it can be, but essentially it's not about that. I can't say just yet exactly what it is about... I only know that it's a part of people like me.
Well shucks. I'd better work on homework before I fall asleep. If it's night-time where you are, and you're feeling restless and awake, you ought to go for a drive. Find a hill somewhere and park on it and look at the city where you live. Things look beautiful when they're away from you.
Or the things I threw away.
You know what's silly? I've been home for almost an hour and have done nothing except change into comfortable clothes, drink a cup of coffee and get myself a bowl of chips. We had an exam in history tonight, and Amelia and I both finished in about 20 minutes, so I drove us around for awhile (since it was the prettiest time of the evening to be up in the hills), dropped her off at about 8:30, and was home by 9. I should be finishing up biology lab homework (due tomorrow), and if I were a really good student, I'd get a head-start on tomorrow's lab so that I'm not stressed and confused all morning. I might also get to work now so that I can actually get a good amount of sleep tonight. But at the present moment I feel rather incapable of doing anything but sitting here and listening to music and writing and eating tortilla chips.
I don't know exactly why today was so particularly crushing, but it was. Last night, in fact, I told Amelia that I've been feeling a breakdown coming for a few days now... well, I didn't breakdown today, at least not in tears or anything. I just kind of feel... depleted. I've got an insane month ahead and nothing left to give. I'm running off of steam. Today when I was home for an hour between work and school, Mom walked into the room and I told her something to that effect... she had just accepted an invitation to have lunch with someone from church and she told me, "If I'd known you were in the mood to talk, I wouldn't have just agreed to lunch." I told her that I wasn't really in the mood to talk - I haven't been for weeks. I didn't realize that until I said it. Even when I've been hanging out with Amelia lately - either she's been doing all the talking or else we just sit there together in silence and think. I was trying to think of why that is, and the only thing I kept coming up with was Thumper from Bambi saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." Nobody likes to hear people complain. Light things, small-talk, that's different; people can deal with that. But sometimes I say things and nobody, not even the people who know me best, knows what to tell me. I guess that's why people blog, isn't it? You just write things, and you don't have to expect a response. It's nice.
There was a dance on Saturday, one of those 50's themed ones, which means the girls get to wear poodle-skirts made of yards and yards and yards of fabric that twirls out fantastically when they spin. I always love those dances - especially now that I know lindy-hop well enough to look good doing it (generally-speaking...). Saturday's dance was nice - there were actually a few really lovely moments. (Tossed in with some awkward ones, of course... but it wouldn't be a home-school dance without those.) Without a doubt, though, the loveliest part of the night was when I got back into my car to go home, and I realized that I didn't have to drive anyone home. I've gotten so used to doing that that it felt strange to be alone - then I realized that I wasn't tired, and I didn't want to go home, but it was the middle of the night and there was nobody that I could hang out with... so I went driving. I followed the same road out and coasted through the empty roads of the higher foothills, the ones that look over all of the city and the ocean and the oil-rigs on the horizon that are lit up with shimmery yellow lights. The lights of houses and stores, and even the headlights and taillights on the roads, all sort of wax and wane together, so that when viewed from a height, the city seems to pulse. I drove down the road for almost an hour that night.
I wish I could have just kept driving. I don't mean that in a cheesy, cliche, no-one-understands-me-here-and-I-hate-my-life way. Not at all. But the older I get, the more I realize that it is just a truth of life that there are some types of people that simply have to leave. It doesn't matter where they are; they just have to go. I think that's an important thing to realize - I didn't for a long time, so I'd get offended when people would leave and not think about home until they had to come back. I assumed it meant that they didn't love me. Then I started going places on my own and then I understood. It's nothing personal - well, sometimes it can be, but essentially it's not about that. I can't say just yet exactly what it is about... I only know that it's a part of people like me.
Well shucks. I'd better work on homework before I fall asleep. If it's night-time where you are, and you're feeling restless and awake, you ought to go for a drive. Find a hill somewhere and park on it and look at the city where you live. Things look beautiful when they're away from you.
It's official...
Mondays are bad bad bad. If you think about it, I'd sure appreciate some prayers. I need them today.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
"Tomorrow". Funny word.
I seem to be incapable of going to bed before midnight. Often before 1:00, but I do try to avoid that when I can. I figure I'll have plenty of time to stare at the night outside my window at college when I'm pulling all-nighters to finish my homework. There's a logic in my head that says I ought to get a good amount of sleep here at home, while I can... but who ever listens to the logic in their head?
Incidentally, I was having a bad day yesterday... in case you couldn't tell that from my angry telegram to myself. Mostly I was angry at the fact that I had spent six hours working on a three page paper. That was ridiculous and was responsible, I am certain, for a series of at least twelve heart attacks. It's so strange... I think that I never fully recovered from last semester's load. Usually I'm full of determination and alertness at the beginning of a school year/semester, and it gradually dwindles throughout until, just as I am at my wit's end, finals come round. This is the way it goes for most everyone, I think. This year, though, I didn't have that starting point of determination and alertness. I started on ground-level and have been slowly and consistently sinking down ever since. It's a depressing feeling. On the upside, finals are only about a month away. Downside: that means that graduation, The Dining Room, and many other large projects are A MONTH AWAY. Which is bad and is causing another series of heart attacks. So we'll stop thinking about that for now.
You know what's a weird thing? Eye contact. I find it so strange that you can tell if a person is looking at your face, but not at your eyes... I mean, if someone looks directly at the outside corner of your eye - say, half an inch from your pupil - you can tell that they're not looking you in the eye. Then their eyes move over a little and poof, connection. Why is that? I mean, is there an actual signal being passed between eyes when they look at each other, or is eye contact just something we've learned to recognize as communication? These are the kinds of things I find myself thinking about when I sit down to do homework...
Speaking of homework, but not really related... on the subject of school, however: I am working on signing up for classes for fall semester. Isn't it weird that you sign up for classes in April, when you'll be commencing in August? (In fact, the day I get back from Prague... which means missing the first day of school, and then coming in early on Tuesday and trying to listen to lectures when you're incredibly jet-lagged. Bummer. Oh well... did it last year.) I'm only five classes or so away from completing the IGETC form (the list of classes needed for GE, which we over-achievers try to complete before we transfer anywhere.), and five classes are easy to knock out in one semester. Even with the job I plan on adding, the art class I plan on teaching, and the theater and dance classes I plan on taking. Well, maybe not easy, but hopefully doable... and definitely will make for a more interesting life than straight old lecture classes all semester. Mostly I'm happy that biology lab and I will forever part ways. I will be so happy not to wake up on Tuesday mornings staring at the bespectacled midget woman in her domain of microscopes and periwinkle walls. There are some teachers that I can't imagine seeing outside of their classrooms. I've come to expect that they live there, and that they would evaporate into thin air if they ever ventured outside, or burn up, or something. They probably push some desks together for a bed at night, or maybe they have a large crate underneath their own teacher-desk that they pull out and pad with blankets to sleep in. I've come to expect this especially of biology professors. It seems like they'd do well in a climate-controlled room.
Once I finish those classes, I'll have finished up most (or all, if I haven't forgotten about any) of my general ed. classes, and I'll be free to transfer somewhere and concentrate only on writing and reading and acting. That sounds kind of like heaven to me. Finishing those classes over fall semester also means that I basically have a semester off, which means that I am in a good spot to find my way to Ireland for a few months. If I can get the funds together, that is. AND find somewhere to stay. I really need to work on finding some missionaries or church people over there and asking if they need an extra pair of hands for a while... I think that's my best bet. Traveling + helping people with worthwhile things = ideal option. I'd also really like to take a road trip around the country (this country, that is). I've always wanted to, and now Katrina's gone off and is doing it - on her own, no less - and the idea is becoming more and more exciting. Not only exciting, but doable. I don't want to consider the idea of Ireland not working out, but if my mind wasn't made up to do that, I'd definitely be considering doing the road trip over spring semester. Well, that particular trip will have to wait until after college, I suppose.
I get incredibly excited when I think about the long-term future. But when I think about what I need to do tomorrow, or this week, or this month, I get all panicky. This seems to imply that I dream nice dreams but do, in fact, fear the stark reality of things; however, I don't know that that's entirely true. Well, it is to a certain extent... but not to the extent that it appears, I hope. Firstly because I don't like to think of myself as a coward, and secondly because I don't like to think of my exciting long-term plans as simply "nice dreams". They are tentative, yes, but they are possible. And if something is possible, that means it can be reached - even if the steps in reaching it cause a girl some headaches.
Well, it's midnight now and I don't know what I'm wearing tomorrow. I always try to plan outfits out the night before, because I dress in the morning before I've had coffee and therefore can not expect myself to make intelligent decisions. The first Tuesday of the semester, I remember, I took my first cup of coffee with me in a thermos and consequently went to school without my earrings. What sort of first impression does that give? I ask you.
That aside, I am curious. When you hear the word "tomorrow", what kind of feeling do you get? Do you think of what you have to get done, or do you think of what you'll do tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that?
I seem to alternate between the two. It must be nice to think of "tomorrow" and feel that you'll be perfectly content with it, whatever it might bring. I guess that's something we can all work toward.
Incidentally, I was having a bad day yesterday... in case you couldn't tell that from my angry telegram to myself. Mostly I was angry at the fact that I had spent six hours working on a three page paper. That was ridiculous and was responsible, I am certain, for a series of at least twelve heart attacks. It's so strange... I think that I never fully recovered from last semester's load. Usually I'm full of determination and alertness at the beginning of a school year/semester, and it gradually dwindles throughout until, just as I am at my wit's end, finals come round. This is the way it goes for most everyone, I think. This year, though, I didn't have that starting point of determination and alertness. I started on ground-level and have been slowly and consistently sinking down ever since. It's a depressing feeling. On the upside, finals are only about a month away. Downside: that means that graduation, The Dining Room, and many other large projects are A MONTH AWAY. Which is bad and is causing another series of heart attacks. So we'll stop thinking about that for now.
You know what's a weird thing? Eye contact. I find it so strange that you can tell if a person is looking at your face, but not at your eyes... I mean, if someone looks directly at the outside corner of your eye - say, half an inch from your pupil - you can tell that they're not looking you in the eye. Then their eyes move over a little and poof, connection. Why is that? I mean, is there an actual signal being passed between eyes when they look at each other, or is eye contact just something we've learned to recognize as communication? These are the kinds of things I find myself thinking about when I sit down to do homework...
Speaking of homework, but not really related... on the subject of school, however: I am working on signing up for classes for fall semester. Isn't it weird that you sign up for classes in April, when you'll be commencing in August? (In fact, the day I get back from Prague... which means missing the first day of school, and then coming in early on Tuesday and trying to listen to lectures when you're incredibly jet-lagged. Bummer. Oh well... did it last year.) I'm only five classes or so away from completing the IGETC form (the list of classes needed for GE, which we over-achievers try to complete before we transfer anywhere.), and five classes are easy to knock out in one semester. Even with the job I plan on adding, the art class I plan on teaching, and the theater and dance classes I plan on taking. Well, maybe not easy, but hopefully doable... and definitely will make for a more interesting life than straight old lecture classes all semester. Mostly I'm happy that biology lab and I will forever part ways. I will be so happy not to wake up on Tuesday mornings staring at the bespectacled midget woman in her domain of microscopes and periwinkle walls. There are some teachers that I can't imagine seeing outside of their classrooms. I've come to expect that they live there, and that they would evaporate into thin air if they ever ventured outside, or burn up, or something. They probably push some desks together for a bed at night, or maybe they have a large crate underneath their own teacher-desk that they pull out and pad with blankets to sleep in. I've come to expect this especially of biology professors. It seems like they'd do well in a climate-controlled room.
Once I finish those classes, I'll have finished up most (or all, if I haven't forgotten about any) of my general ed. classes, and I'll be free to transfer somewhere and concentrate only on writing and reading and acting. That sounds kind of like heaven to me. Finishing those classes over fall semester also means that I basically have a semester off, which means that I am in a good spot to find my way to Ireland for a few months. If I can get the funds together, that is. AND find somewhere to stay. I really need to work on finding some missionaries or church people over there and asking if they need an extra pair of hands for a while... I think that's my best bet. Traveling + helping people with worthwhile things = ideal option. I'd also really like to take a road trip around the country (this country, that is). I've always wanted to, and now Katrina's gone off and is doing it - on her own, no less - and the idea is becoming more and more exciting. Not only exciting, but doable. I don't want to consider the idea of Ireland not working out, but if my mind wasn't made up to do that, I'd definitely be considering doing the road trip over spring semester. Well, that particular trip will have to wait until after college, I suppose.
I get incredibly excited when I think about the long-term future. But when I think about what I need to do tomorrow, or this week, or this month, I get all panicky. This seems to imply that I dream nice dreams but do, in fact, fear the stark reality of things; however, I don't know that that's entirely true. Well, it is to a certain extent... but not to the extent that it appears, I hope. Firstly because I don't like to think of myself as a coward, and secondly because I don't like to think of my exciting long-term plans as simply "nice dreams". They are tentative, yes, but they are possible. And if something is possible, that means it can be reached - even if the steps in reaching it cause a girl some headaches.
Well, it's midnight now and I don't know what I'm wearing tomorrow. I always try to plan outfits out the night before, because I dress in the morning before I've had coffee and therefore can not expect myself to make intelligent decisions. The first Tuesday of the semester, I remember, I took my first cup of coffee with me in a thermos and consequently went to school without my earrings. What sort of first impression does that give? I ask you.
That aside, I am curious. When you hear the word "tomorrow", what kind of feeling do you get? Do you think of what you have to get done, or do you think of what you'll do tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that?
I seem to alternate between the two. It must be nice to think of "tomorrow" and feel that you'll be perfectly content with it, whatever it might bring. I guess that's something we can all work toward.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Please, Ralph, send me a telegram...
DEATH DEATH AND DYING STOP GOING CRAZY STOP TOO MUCH TO DO AND TO WRITE AND THIS CHAIR IS A NUISANCE STOP DAMN MRS PIERCE DAMN THE COFFEE AND DAMN YOU STOP NEED FOOD OR ESPRESSO OR SOMETHING TO JUMPSTART MY BRAIN STOP IT HAS STOPPED WORKING STOP CAN NOT KEEP THIS UP STOP NEED SLEEP STOP ALSO PEOPLE ARE INSANE STOP STOP STOP!
YOURS RESPECTFULLY ETC ...
YOURS RESPECTFULLY ETC ...
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
I don't know just how to change you,
All I know is how to tell you that you can.
I came across a whole amazing spectrum of music the other day on pandora. "Desdemona" by The Alternate Routes is definitely a favorite right now. Look it up! Now!
Man. I am exhausted. Today was the most ridiculously long day - and yesterday was ridiculously awful. Let's start with the positive though (and perhaps the most important): I GOT PETER BACK! Wait wait wait, little rant first: 1-Day-Paint. One day, right? Wrong. SIX. asdrlkaselrknlawkernlkfrffff. They caused me many headaches this week. As if being a student without a car isn't hard enough, try being a HIRED DRIVER without one. That's why I had to borrow my dad's minivan yesterday and that's why I got into bad situations last night. Anyway - that's another story. My mind is gone, in case you couldn't tell. Right now I'm sitting here listening to music and eating chocolate covered pretzels; not particularly because I want to eat chocolate covered pretzels, but because I'm trying to wind myself down and there is NOTHING ELSE TO EAT here. We don't even have soda. (diet coke doesn't count.) I could brew a pot of coffee, but the sensible voice in the back of my head (perhaps the newly 18-year-old, and therefore a tad more mature, part of me) keeps saying that I really just need to go to bed, and coffee will just make it all worse. Which is silly logic. Coffee never made anything worse, except for my mom's stomach aches. Apparently she used to drink coffee when she was in high school, and soon afterward she developed an intolerance for it and it messes her up every time she drinks it. I live in fear that this will happen to me.
ANYWAY. The car. I was supposed to be able to pick it up Saturday, but it wasn't ready... so yesterday I had to borrow the van. My morning was spent driving Betty, which we won't go into. Suffice it to say that yes, even by 10 o'clock in the morning my sanity had started to suffer a little. Then I went home to grab some lunch, and I told Dad that it looked like I would need to get gas. He told me, "No no, you've got plenty of gas left to get you around town today. I'll fill it up tomorrow." Now, I love my father. But when I was driving from mime to my night class last evening, and the car starting beeping suddenly at me and flashing lights and slowing to a dragging inability to accelerate while I was on the busiest street in town, I will admit that I thought some very unpleasant thoughts. So - long story short, I managed to get the car off the road and I called Mom, who (a half hour later) came to me and brought a gallon of gasoline with her. The evening carried on as usual after that.
Incidentally, people always ask "Does it feel different?" after a birthday, although they really expect that you'll say "no". I remember that last year it did feel specifically different when I told someone that I was seventeen. Being eighteen, however, actually feels incredibly different. Maybe it's the fact that I can drive my friends legally now, so I don't have to be afraid whenever I see a cop... or maybe it's the knowledge that I can vote, or get called to jury duty, or smoke, or go to war... y'know, all that fun stuff. In any case, I feel older. It's weird.
This morning I woke up at 6:30 so that we could be at the car place by 8 to pick Peter up. Surprise: they still weren't ready. Dad drove me to school and I took a quiz in biology lab (my 8:30 class with the devil and periwinkle walls), a test in biology lecture, and finished the day with watching Casablanca in my other class (which was nice. What a grand movie.). Oh, and then there was a ridiculous occurrence in the library, where I went to eat lunch and read until my next class came along. I'm sitting there, right?, in this crowded hallway on my own bench. I kept noticing guys walking by and looking at me, but I owed this to my neurotic sixth-sense which assumes that everyone and their mother has some hidden agenda. So I tried to ignore it. Then, suddenly, I become aware that there are two guys standing about four feet away from me, staring at me. They have been talking for some time, but I only become aware of them in time to hear:
Guy 1: Dude, she's so not into me.
Guy 2: Come on, come on. Dude, I will be so mad at you if you don't talk to this girl.
Guy 1: No!
Guy 2: Come on! Say hello!
Guy 1: (Walks past me very slowly and says, in the most non-committal tone possible...) He-llo.
Me: (Continues to stare down at the book on my lap)
Guy 1: Alright man, come on.
Guy 2: Lame.
(They walk off.)
Currently the situation is funny. At the time, however, I was again filled with unpleasant thoughts towards half the world's population. Although, this could possibly be due to the fact that I am still bitter about my father's van.
At 3, Mom came and picked me up and we met Dad at the auto place, where my car was finally ready. The color is beautiful. Seriously - he looks so good. I mean I've always been glad to have Peter, but before he was just a car that someone gave me. Now he's mine. It's a nice feeling. I drove him home and listened to a newly made CD of mine, and couldn't help but be aware of how scratched and dented and peeling every other car on the road is. That was the definite high point of the week thus far.
So I came home around 4, drank some coffee, wrote some emails pertaining to The Dining Room, and put on mime makeup for the first time in what feels like forever. Tonight we had a mime presentation at a church's special-needs program. That went really well - they really enjoyed it. It was cool. :)
Well. I think I'm going to go beg a backrub from Dad and watch a Friends episode. Tomorrow's another big day... more driving, more papers to write.... speaking of writing, I wrote a song the other day that I really like. Also, I want to write books and plays like Tennessee Williams. But what young writer doesn't?
I came across a whole amazing spectrum of music the other day on pandora. "Desdemona" by The Alternate Routes is definitely a favorite right now. Look it up! Now!
Man. I am exhausted. Today was the most ridiculously long day - and yesterday was ridiculously awful. Let's start with the positive though (and perhaps the most important): I GOT PETER BACK! Wait wait wait, little rant first: 1-Day-Paint. One day, right? Wrong. SIX. asdrlkaselrknlawkernlkfrffff. They caused me many headaches this week. As if being a student without a car isn't hard enough, try being a HIRED DRIVER without one. That's why I had to borrow my dad's minivan yesterday and that's why I got into bad situations last night. Anyway - that's another story. My mind is gone, in case you couldn't tell. Right now I'm sitting here listening to music and eating chocolate covered pretzels; not particularly because I want to eat chocolate covered pretzels, but because I'm trying to wind myself down and there is NOTHING ELSE TO EAT here. We don't even have soda. (diet coke doesn't count.) I could brew a pot of coffee, but the sensible voice in the back of my head (perhaps the newly 18-year-old, and therefore a tad more mature, part of me) keeps saying that I really just need to go to bed, and coffee will just make it all worse. Which is silly logic. Coffee never made anything worse, except for my mom's stomach aches. Apparently she used to drink coffee when she was in high school, and soon afterward she developed an intolerance for it and it messes her up every time she drinks it. I live in fear that this will happen to me.
ANYWAY. The car. I was supposed to be able to pick it up Saturday, but it wasn't ready... so yesterday I had to borrow the van. My morning was spent driving Betty, which we won't go into. Suffice it to say that yes, even by 10 o'clock in the morning my sanity had started to suffer a little. Then I went home to grab some lunch, and I told Dad that it looked like I would need to get gas. He told me, "No no, you've got plenty of gas left to get you around town today. I'll fill it up tomorrow." Now, I love my father. But when I was driving from mime to my night class last evening, and the car starting beeping suddenly at me and flashing lights and slowing to a dragging inability to accelerate while I was on the busiest street in town, I will admit that I thought some very unpleasant thoughts. So - long story short, I managed to get the car off the road and I called Mom, who (a half hour later) came to me and brought a gallon of gasoline with her. The evening carried on as usual after that.
Incidentally, people always ask "Does it feel different?" after a birthday, although they really expect that you'll say "no". I remember that last year it did feel specifically different when I told someone that I was seventeen. Being eighteen, however, actually feels incredibly different. Maybe it's the fact that I can drive my friends legally now, so I don't have to be afraid whenever I see a cop... or maybe it's the knowledge that I can vote, or get called to jury duty, or smoke, or go to war... y'know, all that fun stuff. In any case, I feel older. It's weird.
This morning I woke up at 6:30 so that we could be at the car place by 8 to pick Peter up. Surprise: they still weren't ready. Dad drove me to school and I took a quiz in biology lab (my 8:30 class with the devil and periwinkle walls), a test in biology lecture, and finished the day with watching Casablanca in my other class (which was nice. What a grand movie.). Oh, and then there was a ridiculous occurrence in the library, where I went to eat lunch and read until my next class came along. I'm sitting there, right?, in this crowded hallway on my own bench. I kept noticing guys walking by and looking at me, but I owed this to my neurotic sixth-sense which assumes that everyone and their mother has some hidden agenda. So I tried to ignore it. Then, suddenly, I become aware that there are two guys standing about four feet away from me, staring at me. They have been talking for some time, but I only become aware of them in time to hear:
Guy 1: Dude, she's so not into me.
Guy 2: Come on, come on. Dude, I will be so mad at you if you don't talk to this girl.
Guy 1: No!
Guy 2: Come on! Say hello!
Guy 1: (Walks past me very slowly and says, in the most non-committal tone possible...) He-llo.
Me: (Continues to stare down at the book on my lap)
Guy 1: Alright man, come on.
Guy 2: Lame.
(They walk off.)
Currently the situation is funny. At the time, however, I was again filled with unpleasant thoughts towards half the world's population. Although, this could possibly be due to the fact that I am still bitter about my father's van.
At 3, Mom came and picked me up and we met Dad at the auto place, where my car was finally ready. The color is beautiful. Seriously - he looks so good. I mean I've always been glad to have Peter, but before he was just a car that someone gave me. Now he's mine. It's a nice feeling. I drove him home and listened to a newly made CD of mine, and couldn't help but be aware of how scratched and dented and peeling every other car on the road is. That was the definite high point of the week thus far.
So I came home around 4, drank some coffee, wrote some emails pertaining to The Dining Room, and put on mime makeup for the first time in what feels like forever. Tonight we had a mime presentation at a church's special-needs program. That went really well - they really enjoyed it. It was cool. :)
Well. I think I'm going to go beg a backrub from Dad and watch a Friends episode. Tomorrow's another big day... more driving, more papers to write.... speaking of writing, I wrote a song the other day that I really like. Also, I want to write books and plays like Tennessee Williams. But what young writer doesn't?
Monday, April 11, 2011
Sometimes I think my father and I are hilarious.
Me: This is amazing! I usually can't buzz my lips.
Dad: It's the curse of us with small lips.
Me: Well I figured it out... you just have to exhale really hard while you buzz them. It forces them into submission.
Dad: Or breaks them from their... inhibition, or something like -
Me: It's a call to action!
Dad: It's the curse of us with small lips.
Me: Well I figured it out... you just have to exhale really hard while you buzz them. It forces them into submission.
Dad: Or breaks them from their... inhibition, or something like -
Me: It's a call to action!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Tomorrow comes!
We got Les Miserables on netflix, the 25th anniversary version that was made in 2010. Dad and Mom watched it about a week ago, but I was gone and then couldn't get around to seeing it till tonight. Oh. My. Goodness. It's almost ridiculous how incredible the ending song is. I can't think of any way that any play could end that would stir people more. Also, I'm a crybaby these days. Any song that Eponine or Fantine sang had me in tears.
Tomorrow I will be an adult. Ew. Or at least, I'll be eighteen. That sounds a little better.
Also, I dropped off Peter at the auto paint place today. I feel a little stranded without him... Dad has to drive me to school tomorrow. It's been a while since THAT had to happen. I hope they do a good job with the paint... he's going to be red. :) I'm excited for two reasons: the first being that I love red, the second being that every honda civic in the world is that moss-green color and I'm tired of me and Peter blending in. No more! Which also means that I'll probably get a ticket for something sometime soon. Red cars always get tickets.
AHhhhh, I can't get Les Miserables out of my head. Musicals get me in such weird moods. After I see a play that I like, I can't think about anything else for days.
Goodnight you good Leslie you.
Tomorrow I will be an adult. Ew. Or at least, I'll be eighteen. That sounds a little better.
Also, I dropped off Peter at the auto paint place today. I feel a little stranded without him... Dad has to drive me to school tomorrow. It's been a while since THAT had to happen. I hope they do a good job with the paint... he's going to be red. :) I'm excited for two reasons: the first being that I love red, the second being that every honda civic in the world is that moss-green color and I'm tired of me and Peter blending in. No more! Which also means that I'll probably get a ticket for something sometime soon. Red cars always get tickets.
AHhhhh, I can't get Les Miserables out of my head. Musicals get me in such weird moods. After I see a play that I like, I can't think about anything else for days.
Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the light.
For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies.
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.
They will live again in freedom
In the garden of the Lord.
They will walk behind the plough-share,
They will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken
And all men will have their reward.
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes...
Tomorrow comes!
Goodnight you good Leslie you.
Monday, April 4, 2011
But I've begun to trust the view here.
Sometimes I tell myself things that make no sense. I know they don't make sense, but at the same time I have to make myself believe them, because that's the only way to keep sane. Isn't that odd. Willfully deceiving myself is the only way to keep sane. Something is wrong with this logic. It's possibly dangerous, for example, to open up to something or someone. Even if you don't act on it, you still know that you care, and therefore your mood and your thoughts can quite easily start to depend on what is going on with that something or someone. This is annoying. We're individuals. We should be independent. Therefore, it makes much more sense to simply not care. It makes sense, that is, but I'm not sure that it's entirely possible. But darnit, we've got to try. An effort must be made to save sanity.
Also, the title of this particular post makes no sense in relation to the post itself. But I do love The Weepies and Slow Pony Home reminds me of myself looking back on my trip to Ireland, if I ever get to go. Actually, that whole album does. I miss The Weepies. I listened to them a lot during 2009, which (if you know me well you know this) was not a good year for me. I think that's why I had to take a break from them for so long. But now, instead of making me sad, they just make me nostalgic. Which is never really a bad thing. Except when it is.
I need some sleep. (Time to put the old horse down...)
sigh. I'm in too deep.
Also, the title of this particular post makes no sense in relation to the post itself. But I do love The Weepies and Slow Pony Home reminds me of myself looking back on my trip to Ireland, if I ever get to go. Actually, that whole album does. I miss The Weepies. I listened to them a lot during 2009, which (if you know me well you know this) was not a good year for me. I think that's why I had to take a break from them for so long. But now, instead of making me sad, they just make me nostalgic. Which is never really a bad thing. Except when it is.
I need some sleep. (Time to put the old horse down...)
sigh. I'm in too deep.
My best unbeaten brother, this isn't all I see.
Jon was home yesterday and we started messing around on the guitar and learning a few new songs to sing together. One of them was Down By The Water (Decemberists), which was awesome and amazing, but one of us needs to learn to play the harmonica. We also played I See A Darkness (Johnny Cash, who both of us have been listening to this week... our music moods keep matching up unknowingly. Funny). Anyway. The lyrics are pretty much the best ever. It makes me incredibly depressed and comforted at the same time. That's the best kind of song, in my opinion anyway.
Well, you're my friend, and can you see?
Many times, we've been out drinking,
Many times we shared our thoughts.
But did you ever, ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got?
Well, you know I have a love, a love for everyone I know.
And you know I have a drive to live: I won't let go.
But can you see its opposition, comes rising up sometimes?
That its dreadful imposition, comes blacking in my mind?
And then I see a darkness,
And then I see a darkness,
And then I see a darkness,
And then I see a darkness.
Did you know how much I love you?
Here's a hope that somehow you
Can save me from this darkness.
Well, I hope that someday, buddy,
We have peace in our lives,
Together or apart,
Alone or with our wives.
And we can stop our whoring,
And pull the smiles inside,
And light it up forever,
And never go to sleep.
My best unbeaten brother,
This isn't all I see.
Oh no, I see a darkness.
Oh no, I see a darkness.
Oh no, I see a darkness.
Oh no, I see a darkness.
Did you know how much I love you?
Here's a hope that somehow you,
Can save me from this darkness.
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