it confuses me how easily i get taken advantage of,
and how i don't realize it until i'm agonizing over squared matrices and shakespeare.
today i skipped school again.
my lack of sleep leads me to not thinking straight in the mornings.
anyway, the weather was like my thoughts.
at noon, it was monsoon raining. then all of a sudden, it cleared up and the sky turned a weird yellow and the wind started going crazy and the lights started flickering and all this was going worse and less throughout the day/night.
the tv wouldn't quit tornado warning me,
and i kept on imagining the whole glass side of this too big house shattering.
completely demolishing everything, along with the contempt in the air.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
So, this is what I'm going to look back on and laugh about in a rocking chair.
On Saturday,
MyOreo, MySister, and I decided to go to out. However, MySister backed out claiming a headache and not feeling well. After that didn't appease me to the point of letting her out of our previously made plans she backtracked to the dreaded "My parents won't let me". I couldn't argue with that so MyOreo and I set off to Popfest (a local show at the local skatepark full of local bands covering pop songs and adding their own twists). It seemed fun, it seemed interesting. It wasn't, to say the least. Too many little kids, not enough talent. Too many cliques and dirty looks and idiotic stereotypes and superiority complexes. Smoking area wasn't exactly a smoking area with a security guard harassing for IDs and threatening actual jail to twelve year olds. Entertaining, but not pleasant. We left. We ended up in Frank's (an alternative store with everything you can imagine having to do with music, 70s, incense, hippie clothes, ect ect ect). There we chatted with Frank about dread locks, and a girl was nice enough to share a piece of her moon rock with me. That moon rock is in my car, and it makes me smile every time I see it. Frank then made a comment about some football game, gesturing behind the counter. It hit me. A huge game was on, and MySister backed out sketchily. It would have been crafty because I would have never known the difference, if it wasn't for Frank. Too bad the joke would be on her.
We met up with MyDiva at Starbucks. I had a caramel machiatto and I couldn't get used to how sweet the coffee was. I guess I'll be sticking to my regular cappuccinos. You see, MyDiva had met a new boy and started dating him. He had been invited to TheGayClub, the only one in this city of 1,260,581. I was worried beyond oblivion, with the sketchiness and stigma given that place. I just didn't want him going alone with someone who I didn't know and trust. MyDiva told his mom that he was sleeping over at my house. MyOreo and I told my mom that I was sleeping over at MyDiva's house. Long story short- MyOreo and I were off to TheGayClub.
We were all sixteen and seventeen with no fake IDs. We were all going to scale an eight foot wall. However, we were not all very tall. As per usual, I was the the shortest and the most unable. To the best of my abilities I'll try and describe how it looked. A vibrant redhead with Shirley Temple curls and ballet flats in the rain with a group of 4 other people looking upon a plank put up against the wall that was slippery, unstable, and only went up about two feet. From that plank I was suppose to step up on a tiny knob post that would boost me up another couple of inches. Then came the iron ladder attached to the old building that was about seven feet in the air. I could reach it, but my legs were too short. I couldn't hoist myself up onto it. I tried, I slipped, I fell. It must have been comical, and I was shaken up. Mostly, though; I was embarrassed, brushing it off. Out of nowhere, a larger man with a heart of even larger proportions approached us and asked if i was okay. Red curls, more red cheeks, I tried brushing him off. He was obviously legal, about to get in the club. Then came the magic words. "I'm a cheerleader!" I was lifted up over the wall with no effort whatsoever. My hero. My hero that didn't make me feel fat. MyOreo did have a bit of trouble, too. Us girls do not do hoisting our weights up to get to high places. She is about five foot ten, though. She has legs going to miles. Not as much trouble as me with my five foot three and stubby legged frame, but I guess it's a comfort to know I'm not the only ungodlike one in physical form. Once in, I see my cheerleader hero. I give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Once all the way in, I see it is drag night. Beautiful, robust, confident women dancing and singing and strutting everything they have to upbeat music. It was marvelous. It was fun. MyOreo and I decided to stick together, be dates. Oh, she's super straight. We just figured we'd join in on the couple-fun and make sure it was clear that we do not need to be hit on. Through the video lounge, making sure nobody noticed our underage wrists without a wristband. To the restrooms, to a completely disgusting and raunchy excuse for a restroom. Clogged up toilet, vomit-filled sink, wet floor, my awful gag reflex put to it's use. Dusted ourselves off, hovered, left shame when i fell off the ladder. Dancing with beautiful people, up on the platform being looked at. More dancing, more people, more groping. I was glad my clothes were on.
Tired and ready to go, we hit up the IHOP. Five sweet teas later, MyOreo and I headed home. Garage opener put to use, only about a foot up. Rolled under. Garage opener put to use, a foot down. Creeping silently through the door, clackity ballet flats taken off. Tiptoe upstairs, straight to bed. After all, we had church in a few hours.
MySister heard all about it the next day.
MyOreo, MySister, and I decided to go to out. However, MySister backed out claiming a headache and not feeling well. After that didn't appease me to the point of letting her out of our previously made plans she backtracked to the dreaded "My parents won't let me". I couldn't argue with that so MyOreo and I set off to Popfest (a local show at the local skatepark full of local bands covering pop songs and adding their own twists). It seemed fun, it seemed interesting. It wasn't, to say the least. Too many little kids, not enough talent. Too many cliques and dirty looks and idiotic stereotypes and superiority complexes. Smoking area wasn't exactly a smoking area with a security guard harassing for IDs and threatening actual jail to twelve year olds. Entertaining, but not pleasant. We left. We ended up in Frank's (an alternative store with everything you can imagine having to do with music, 70s, incense, hippie clothes, ect ect ect). There we chatted with Frank about dread locks, and a girl was nice enough to share a piece of her moon rock with me. That moon rock is in my car, and it makes me smile every time I see it. Frank then made a comment about some football game, gesturing behind the counter. It hit me. A huge game was on, and MySister backed out sketchily. It would have been crafty because I would have never known the difference, if it wasn't for Frank. Too bad the joke would be on her.
We met up with MyDiva at Starbucks. I had a caramel machiatto and I couldn't get used to how sweet the coffee was. I guess I'll be sticking to my regular cappuccinos. You see, MyDiva had met a new boy and started dating him. He had been invited to TheGayClub, the only one in this city of 1,260,581. I was worried beyond oblivion, with the sketchiness and stigma given that place. I just didn't want him going alone with someone who I didn't know and trust. MyDiva told his mom that he was sleeping over at my house. MyOreo and I told my mom that I was sleeping over at MyDiva's house. Long story short- MyOreo and I were off to TheGayClub.
We were all sixteen and seventeen with no fake IDs. We were all going to scale an eight foot wall. However, we were not all very tall. As per usual, I was the the shortest and the most unable. To the best of my abilities I'll try and describe how it looked. A vibrant redhead with Shirley Temple curls and ballet flats in the rain with a group of 4 other people looking upon a plank put up against the wall that was slippery, unstable, and only went up about two feet. From that plank I was suppose to step up on a tiny knob post that would boost me up another couple of inches. Then came the iron ladder attached to the old building that was about seven feet in the air. I could reach it, but my legs were too short. I couldn't hoist myself up onto it. I tried, I slipped, I fell. It must have been comical, and I was shaken up. Mostly, though; I was embarrassed, brushing it off. Out of nowhere, a larger man with a heart of even larger proportions approached us and asked if i was okay. Red curls, more red cheeks, I tried brushing him off. He was obviously legal, about to get in the club. Then came the magic words. "I'm a cheerleader!" I was lifted up over the wall with no effort whatsoever. My hero. My hero that didn't make me feel fat. MyOreo did have a bit of trouble, too. Us girls do not do hoisting our weights up to get to high places. She is about five foot ten, though. She has legs going to miles. Not as much trouble as me with my five foot three and stubby legged frame, but I guess it's a comfort to know I'm not the only ungodlike one in physical form. Once in, I see my cheerleader hero. I give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Once all the way in, I see it is drag night. Beautiful, robust, confident women dancing and singing and strutting everything they have to upbeat music. It was marvelous. It was fun. MyOreo and I decided to stick together, be dates. Oh, she's super straight. We just figured we'd join in on the couple-fun and make sure it was clear that we do not need to be hit on. Through the video lounge, making sure nobody noticed our underage wrists without a wristband. To the restrooms, to a completely disgusting and raunchy excuse for a restroom. Clogged up toilet, vomit-filled sink, wet floor, my awful gag reflex put to it's use. Dusted ourselves off, hovered, left shame when i fell off the ladder. Dancing with beautiful people, up on the platform being looked at. More dancing, more people, more groping. I was glad my clothes were on.
Tired and ready to go, we hit up the IHOP. Five sweet teas later, MyOreo and I headed home. Garage opener put to use, only about a foot up. Rolled under. Garage opener put to use, a foot down. Creeping silently through the door, clackity ballet flats taken off. Tiptoe upstairs, straight to bed. After all, we had church in a few hours.
MySister heard all about it the next day.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
new year, new start
2007 was a year full of mile stones.
my mom got sick and i grew up a lot. i mean, a single mom who works that much has a lot on her plate. throwing that at a fifteen year old unexpectedly kind of made me fall flat on my face. driving everywhere without a license, taking care of the mortgages and bank stuff that i have yet to comprehend, talking to her boss, dealing with nurses and doctors, not being in school like i was suppose to, and those flourescent hospital lights. how is it that hospitals are always so alive, yet contain to breath? maybe it's because i have such a dislike for them; but, i feel like my lungs are constricted in that bleaches air. anyway, i learned that school isn't easy if you're not there. i got a head first dive into driving. i spent fifteen minutes with my first gas pump. i got a car, my dream car. i became friendly with a girl who used to scare me to no end, i was convinced she hated my existance. well, this girl is now my oreo. my scene thing. my best friend. we buy ten dollar kiddie pools and sit all night in five inches of water smoking, drinking, and prank calling. my sister and i have gotten more close than ever. accepting eachother's faults and changing and growing in different ways, but still together. does that make sense? it's obvious growing apart from loved ones is a part of life. i've definitely lost a significant amount of people who i still adore, we just don't have anything in common. it's not bitter, it's life. there will always be connections, but they'll turn into memories. but my sister and i don't fit into that category. i'm a realist. however, i honestly believe that no matter what college we go to, what country i end up living in, how many stupid things are said and done: we will end up growing old on rocking chairs. i will be her kids' aunt. now driving is my escape. i waste so much gas, with the windows rolled down and the music up. not concentrating on anything except the format, backseat goodbye, jack's mannequin, the rocket summer, and the hush sound. the road signs guiding me to nowhere.
why is it that clean slates are so inspiring? .
my mom got sick and i grew up a lot. i mean, a single mom who works that much has a lot on her plate. throwing that at a fifteen year old unexpectedly kind of made me fall flat on my face. driving everywhere without a license, taking care of the mortgages and bank stuff that i have yet to comprehend, talking to her boss, dealing with nurses and doctors, not being in school like i was suppose to, and those flourescent hospital lights. how is it that hospitals are always so alive, yet contain to breath? maybe it's because i have such a dislike for them; but, i feel like my lungs are constricted in that bleaches air. anyway, i learned that school isn't easy if you're not there. i got a head first dive into driving. i spent fifteen minutes with my first gas pump. i got a car, my dream car. i became friendly with a girl who used to scare me to no end, i was convinced she hated my existance. well, this girl is now my oreo. my scene thing. my best friend. we buy ten dollar kiddie pools and sit all night in five inches of water smoking, drinking, and prank calling. my sister and i have gotten more close than ever. accepting eachother's faults and changing and growing in different ways, but still together. does that make sense? it's obvious growing apart from loved ones is a part of life. i've definitely lost a significant amount of people who i still adore, we just don't have anything in common. it's not bitter, it's life. there will always be connections, but they'll turn into memories. but my sister and i don't fit into that category. i'm a realist. however, i honestly believe that no matter what college we go to, what country i end up living in, how many stupid things are said and done: we will end up growing old on rocking chairs. i will be her kids' aunt. now driving is my escape. i waste so much gas, with the windows rolled down and the music up. not concentrating on anything except the format, backseat goodbye, jack's mannequin, the rocket summer, and the hush sound. the road signs guiding me to nowhere.
why is it that clean slates are so inspiring? .
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