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Post by fico on Apr 20, 2003 16:15:57 GMT -5
4.20.o3
3:47pm. I think it is very strange when people say things about you that you don't expect and don't believe. Especially when what they say about you isn't necessarily what you want them to say. Or when what they say about you isn't necessarily how you want to portray yourself. I dunno. I just think it's weird that people see each other so differently.
So I'm no smarter than most people. I'm not stupid, but that doesn't mean I'm intelligent. This isn't a good or bad thing, it's just a thing. Jack on Trapdoor said something somewhere about how about 80% of intelligence is an act. *shrugs* So I'm a good actor.
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Yesterday, I was very emotional. Extremely. No clue why. Well, I mean, I got my period, so it could just be a hormone thing, but whatever. The point is, I watched a movie and cried about seven times. Look at me. I don't cry. I mean, I do, but not for no reason. I cry when something is really important, or when I am experiencing extreme pain, or when something really sad happens to me or someone I know, and I often want to cry when things are beautiful. It takes a lot for something to fall into one of these categories. ((Rue says I cry about once every two months. I think that sounds like a lot. On the other hand, that means only six times a year, which seems pretty accurate. *shruggy* I don't cry a lot.)) I've got a pretty good life. Hell, I've got a good life. I don't have too much pain, not too many sad things happen to me. I usually want to cry more than actually end up crying. Yesterday, I cried seven times and almost cried about two more times. Crazy.
There was this small episode with Chaia. I didn't keep kosher in her house, and she told me to remember to next time. I thought I had made some major-mistake. I was so upset. But she told me not to worry about it. That if she had forgotten she had had meat and then ate dairy, she wouldn't beat herself up over it, just try to remember next time. So I tried not to worry about it. I almost cried. And then I realized that Chaia doesn't say things just to make people feel better. She only makes you feel better if making you feel better involves telling you the truth. So I ended up not worrying about it.
Later that night, around midnight, after my period-cramps had annoyed me all to hell and I had talked to [Freddie]1 on the phone and I had taken a good, long shower, I watched a movie. Last November, I lent Billy Elliot to Nialle. After I recommend things to people or lend them or something, I like to re-watch/re-read/re-experience them. Because I'm curious about how I look at the thing now, and how the other person might have looked at it... And I get nervous that it wasn't as good as I had thought, and now the other person will think I'm stupid. So Nialle gave Billy Elliot back when I went to Coe this month, and I figured last night was a good time to watch it. ... I don't like crying. Seven. Sheesh. It might have only been five times, but still.
I was just watching the movie, and all these thoughts were going through my head about how Billy knew what he wanted from life, and about how his dad was willing to give up everything for his son, and about how Michael trusted Billy with his deepest secret, and everything. Everything was beautiful, and a lot of it was sad. How the only way Billy found to express himself was dancing, and then he danced everywhere. It ... was beautiful. How Tony was so protective and young. How Tony thought Billy was just a kid, when he wasn't so old himself. I cried about seven times in about two hours. How insane.
Don't get me wrong on crying. I don't mind crying; I just like my tears to be worth something. I don't like crying over nothing. I even make a small effort to remember when I cry. Then I remember what's important to me. Besides that, real crying makes me feel very much alive.2 But watching Billy Elliot didn't feel like real crying. It was all in my head, not in my whole self. I thought the cry, but I didn't feel it. I'm a very thinky-oriented person, but I'm mainly emotionally-bound. And my Self is how my thoughts and my emotions interact, not one or the other. Because I'm so dependent on both of them. My emotions are way too schwoopy to be taken seriously without my complete over-rationalizations to balance them out. What I am is the in-between that's made when my analytical-self is given a heart, or when my schwoopy-ness gets a brain. Like Dumbledore said, how it's our choices that matter. My choices are based on what happens after my emotions and mind have had a small battle-out.
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Rue is a complete dork. She got me an Easter-bunny. I don't know if it was just her or if it was both her and Airlia. Either way, they/she got me one. (It's solid chocolate, the only kind worth having.) But, like, I'm not even Christian. And I'm not big on chocolate/candy anymore. (I get cravings like anyone else, but I'm not in kid-mode where you always have a craving.) And besides, I have a canker sore.
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Today, we took communion in church. I hate having to do that. I feel like I'm just leading them on, or teasing them, or something. I feel foul. But, hey, it's April, and I "come out" to them in August, so it's all good... kinda. But it felt nice to sort of feel like a part of them. Like I had a group. On the other hand, it feels really shitty to know that some of them wouldn't accept me so well if I told them more about me. *uncomfortable shrug with sigh-like breathing* I'm thinking about what's important to me, and what a lie is and what a lie isn't, and other things like that.
It just feels disrespectful to take communion when I don't believe it. Because communion is so huge for my church. We only do it on big days and once a month. It's a huge deal. You can't take it until you're confirmed. It feels like I'm "mocking" them or something. Because I know how important it is to them, but I take it without it meaning anything to me.
*Idea* But it does mean something to me. It means that we're doing this thing together. It means that I don't believe Jesus was the son of God. It means that I did believe Jesus was the Saviour. That's all important stuff. Communion never means the same exact thing from one person to the next. The meaning I get out of it is just really different from most people's. ... I'll have to think about that, see if it's actually true or if I'm just trying to make excuses for myself.
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*has just written the second footnote* The arrow points west. And I don't know who invented roses.
I've been thinking about flowers a lot. I'm really not all that fond of them. I keep telling my family and friends to tell anyone I date that I hate flowers, especially red roses. Never give me a red rose. Can't stand them. Hate the color pink. White is the only rose I can deal with. White is a color of mourning in China. No, that was kind of a joke. That's actually the only context I like white in. I usually hate the color. But in general, I just don't like flowers. Like, if you give one to someone, it just ends up dying.
I do have one flower. I got it in 8th grade. This sweetie-guy brought in a flower for every girl in the class. (It was a private school, so there were about eighteen girls total.) I saved it. It dried out and preserved itself a little, so not it rests in this old, glass coke-bottle I've got, on top of one of my bookcases.
But, yeah. You're all my friends. So if I date someone, tell them I don't like getting things that die. I would much prefer a book or a good pair of socks or something completely random like a black top hat or suspenders or K-Nex, 'kay?
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I've started a list of weird things I want before I go to college. It's kind of funny. I've got things like K-Nex and replacement-cd's (since I lost practically my entire collection a few months ago, and I haven't had money to re-stock) and legos. And those bead-things that you make designs with and then iron them under a piece of wax paper; the beads are plastic, so they melt a bit and get frozen in the design you made. And books that I've wanted for long periods of time but haven't gotten yet. I really need some cool socks, 'cause the cool ones I've got now are all getting holes in them. But yeah. I'll make a real list sometime and post it up later. But right now, my mom wants the computer.
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1. I don't know if I mentioned a "Darwen" before. If I did, Darwen=Freddie.
2. Story / Moral: I had this theory for a while that nothing was ever new because it had all already happened. Now I've got this new theory that everything is always new, because nothing ever happens exactly the same. So, like, I have sat in this chair while making a journal entry and listening to music before. But I never sat in this exact position while listening to this song while writing these words. General things might be the same, but the specific combinations of things are always different, and that makes it a different thing.
I learned this after thinking about something that Eli said. She and I were having a late-night talk in her kitchen. We were standing in the middle of it, and we had been having this really intense conversation for a long time. I brought up how I thought nothing really mattered anymore because nothing was ever new. And she said that she had never cried in that room before, and that was something new. Anyway, it made me cry, and it was beautiful. It's one of my favorite sound-byte-memories. (("It's all on little pictures, and sound bytes out of photgraphs. And that's the guide, that's the map. Tell me me where does the arrow point to? Who invented roses?" -- What do You Hear in these Sounds?, Dar Williams [paraphrased]))
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Post by fico on Apr 21, 2003 17:36:01 GMT -5
4.21.o3
6:02pm. Today felt completely like Spring. I opened the window in the bathroom, and this breeze came in. The breeze couldn't be felt, only smelled. It was so soft, I almost didn't notice it, but then I couldn't ignore it. It smelled of onion grass and dandelions and just-used-lawn-mowers.
I've made a book-reading-resolution. (I don't read enough anymore. I'm very disappointed in myself. So I'm changing it.) And so I took my book and went outside. I climbed my favorite tree and read. It didn't feel right. I tried several different positions on different branches and in different crooks. I think I've grown. My tree feels too small. I don't know if the growth was physical or emotional, but my tree isn't enough anymore. This makes me sad. But we all grow and change. The key is to not forget who we have been. Just because I am too big for my tree doesn't mean I won't climb it. It means that when I do climb it, it will mean something different to me. I'm trying to be open to what that new meaning will be. I don't want to miss it.
I climbed down and looked at MikroDasos. He isn't doing too well. (MikroDasos is the tree I planted about a year ago.) The winter was pretty long, and there was a lot of snow, and he's such a little guy. I hope he's okay.
I went into the bathroom and climbed out the window onto the little roof we have out there. It's really steep. I sat there, barefoot, with my back against the house, where I couldn't be seen from the bathroom, and I read for a while. I'm too big for that roof, too. I couldn't find a good place to stay.
Finally, I went into my room and opened two of the windows, then I sat in my green chair. I don't think I'll ever outgrow my green chair. I can still curl up in it, perfectly comfortable. Legs hanging over the side. Head at a would-be-awkward-angle-that-feels-perfect. It felt good, and I read a lot of my book for a long time.
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Yesterday, my mom and I got along. It kicked major butt. I don't like my mom a lot of the time, but she's actually a pretty cool person. And she's generally a good person. And she's usually interesting. I just think I really need to live away from her for a while, really learn to appreciate her since I won't be able to take her for granted. I need to be able to get away from her bad qualities.
Yesterday, we joked around. And I asked her this question, but she said she couldn't say. I finally convinced her to tell me, but we were out to dinner at the time, and she said she would tell me when Airlia wasn't around. I laughed at that and Airlia looked up indignantly, protesting. My mom said something like, "You're still little. [Gen] is turning 18 soon." I was like, "wow. my mom knows I'm turning 18 soon." It felt good that she knew that. That she was willing to say it.
It was just a good mom-day. They're pretty rare right now, so I enjoyed it and didn't expect another one today. Today wasn't a bad mom-day, but it wasn't good either. It was a very neutral day. I spent a lot of time alone. I finished a book and started another one. I took a good shower. I learned that I've grown, but not too much. It was a good gen-day.
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The book I finished was The Phantom Tollbooth. I am going to read this book to people. So far, the only person I know I want to read it to is Eli. I want Chaia to read it. I want Rue to read it. I want Lani to read it. ... And Gilt and Freddie ought to read it, too.
I also want to read it to my kids. You know how some families develop a family-story-book? Or a family-story-author? (In my family, it was this kid's book that told the story of Hansel and Gretal, and when we got older, our author was Roald Dahl. At least, that's how I interpreted it. Maybe we had a wide variety, but those were the only ones that really affected me.) I think I might like it if this were the family-story.
The first time I read this book was in 5th grade. I had absolutely fallen in love with one of my teachers. [Piper] was new that year, and she left the next year. She was 24 and blonde and had big glasses that made her eyes huge when you looked through them. That was the year weird stuff went on with my parents, and I told Piper the whole story. She was great.
Anyway, she brought in The Phantom Tollbooth and read it to the class. We used to have Lounging Lizards, where we would all lie around and the teachers would read to us, or we would talk about Big Things directed by the teachers, or whatever. Piper had a really good reading voice. I can't remember if she did voices or not, but she changed her tone. Like, there's this one part where everything in the book s l o w s d o w n . She made her voice slow and deep, like when you put a cassette on half-speed.
Anyway, I've been meaning to re-read the book for six years, and I finally got around to it. It was way better this time. There are all these puns involving the English language. It was hilarious. Like, there's a Spelling Bee. It's this big bee that flies around everywhere and saying things like, "That's ridiculous r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s." And the main character, Milo, visits a place called "Point of View". He's been driving on this road, and then the road comes to a point, and from there you can see everything. Stuff like that. There's this watch dog (a dog with a clock in his side) called Tock that goes "tick-tick-tick". And there are two princesses called Rhyme and Reason, who used to bring happiness and clarity to Wisdom, the original kingdom. It's just great. I laughed so hard about some stuff, 'cause it had been completely over my head seven years ago. But at the same time, the story-line is great for kids. It's like Harry Potter. No, it's like VeggieTales. VeggieTales have all these stories that kids love, but then they throw in these puns nad jokes that no one under the age of thirteen or so would pick up on. It's great. The kids love it, but they can never figure out why the adults laugh so much.
So, yeah. I'm going to lend the book to everyone. (Though I really ought to buy another copy as the one I have doesn't have a back cover, and the front cover isn't attached.) But actually, I really want everyone to read this copy.
I do that a lot. Get attached to a particular copy or edition or whatever. Up in my room, I have two copies of Matilda and two copies of Maniac Magee and two copies of The Secret of Nimh. I think it's just about time I gained a second copy of The Phantom Tollbooth. I almost never use the new copies, because they don't feel the same as the original ones. But, like, the copy of Little Women that we have is missing the first 14 pages or so. So we have a second copy. I always read the first fourteen pages from the second copy and then pick up the original.
And whenever I want to lend something to someone, I give them the originals. Then it feels like it's more mine, because that person borrowed it. Does that make sense? It has another memory after that. I love giving things memories.
Like how my clothes are becoming more mine because I've started putting these little Righteous Babe Records patches onto my favorite ones. The patches are only 1" in diameter, but having one on a pair of pants or putting one on a shirt just makes the shirt feel "real" almost. *shrugs* Something-like-real, anyway.
Speaking of, I found another shirt that I want to put a patch on. I'm wearing it now, and I'll probably sew the patch today or tomorrow.
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I feel like I should just keep writing forever, like it feels "wrong" to stop. *does wrong and goes off to read some more*
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Post by fico on Apr 24, 2003 0:49:53 GMT -5
4.24.o3
12:02am. I will be eighteen in less than one month. Galoshes. That's old. Not in the sense that it's old in and of itself. And not in the sense that people older than eighteen are old. Just in the sense that I'm only seventeen, and I'm going to be eighteen soon. Chaia puts a lot of stock in being eighteen. I mean, not a lot. Chaia is just about the last person to think age (or numbers at all) matter. But, like, she doesn't want me having sex until I'm 18. Things like that. She says there isn't really a difference, but at least it's something. Partly, I think, she figures it's good to have a limit. Like, she wouldn't want me just having flippant sex. If I make myself wait until I'm 18, I'll be able to make myself wait at other times, if I'm not completely sure or whatever. I think she wants me to learn how to set standards and live up to them. And that's cool.
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I'm talking to one of my friends again. We didn't really stop talking, exactly. We just kind of lost touch for a while. I'm really happy we're in touch again. [Billie] is way uber-cool. She thinks I think she's too smart. I mean, 'cause I think she's way smarter than I am. I dunno. But she understands all these things that I don't. And she makes these connections that I don't make. *shrugs* Maybe we're equal smartness, just different. She likes the way I think. I like that.
I think I worried her that I don't like her. That would be bad. Billie is... She's one of my favorite people. I have, like, less than ten people that I really like. She's definitely up there. I wonder if she knows that. Or if she believes me when I tell her that. (I wonder if she'll read this and know who she is. )
When I talk to Billie, everything is just so intense. But it's not like it wipes you out. It's intense-in-a-good-way. I want to stay up all night talking. (But Chandra always gets in my way. This makes me really mad-sad-bad.) You know when you write someone a letter and expect a reply? And all you can think about is waiting for it? That's what happens when I talk to Billie. All I want to do is talk to Billie. It sounds obsessive, but it's not. Because I can still make myself do other things. I started a story. And I went to guitar practice. And I ate dinner. Just because I wanted to be doing something else most of the time doesn't matter.
*laughs* It's hilarious. I was sitting here, trying to think of more things to say about what's going on with Billie. But I don't really want to say anything else about her, but I don't really want to change the topic. Because if I can't talk to Billie, I apparently want to talk about her.
*makes a conscious effort to change the topic*
So I started a story. This makes me way happy. I can't remember the last thing I really wrote. I can remember lots of attempts at writing things. But I don't remember actually just writing. It feels really good to be back in the habit of trying to make myself write a piece of the story daily. (I actually wrote some more today, but it's going really slowly.)
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I have become addicted to livejournals. Honestly, they're the best. You just read them, and it's like you've got all ... You know what it's like? It's like you're out for a walk on one of those perfect nights. It's cool, and there's a wind, but you've got a good sweatshirt on, so you're not cold. It's, like, three am. The moon is out, but it's not annoyingly bright. You look up and recognize a few constellations, just for fun. You're walking through a developement, and you notice that one house has a bedroom light on. So you look at the light, and you see someone doing something. And then they turn out that light, and a light flickers on in the living room. And the same person does something else. And then the living room light clicks off, and they're in the family room, and you watch what they do. ("The windows of my soul are made of one-way glass" -- Ani DiFranco) Only it's not spying or anything creepy like that. It's okay, because they don't mind you watching. They even kind of invite you to watch. And you just get these glimpses of their lives, and these snippets of who they are, and these ideas of what's important to them. It's really beautiful. I want to figure it all out, and then write a book that's told in journal entries.
So far, I've got five journals that I keep a close watch on. I'm getting restless for another one.
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Nothing has really been happening to me or with me or anything. I've been having these huge, intense discussions, so I feel like I should post something huge and intense to convey the mood. But it's hard to have such an intense discussion with yourself. No, seriously, I could post about all the stuff I've been talking about. But first of all, it's often a little more private than a public journal, and second, I've already talked about it. Meaning, I write in my journal to get things out, but there's no point in getting out what's already got. Get me? *rolls eyes* I'm in a stupid mood. Ignore me.
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Post by fico on Apr 28, 2003 1:45:31 GMT -5
4.28.o3
2:07am. *feels very itchy and crawly and ick* I hate ticks. I loathe them. They should die a slow and painful death a la fire. (Which is actually how we kill them in my house, because we heard toilet-flushing doesn't always get the job done.) I am not a very antsy person. I mean, I don't like to pick things up with my bare hands because I don't like the idea of them crawling up my arm before I can stop them. But I'll do it if I have to. I don't mind bugs. I don't mind arachnids (except for those uber-scary black, jumping spiders; they can jump the length of two football fields... that's kind of unpredictable). I don't mind any of them in moderation. (I've woken up, more than once, because termites / flying ants (not sure which) were crawling all over me. And I've read some stories about army ants that just make you paranoid of being covered in insects.) I don't like them in large numbers, because I can't keep my eye on large numbers, and I can't stop large numbers. But small amounts are okay. Ticks are the exception. Ticks make me edgy and nervous, and now I have to take a shower before I go to bed because I found one on my neck. I just hate how they look and I hate how they feel and I hate how they move and I hate how they can flip themselves over after you put them on their backs and I hate how they bite and don't let go until they're full. The idea of something sticking it's head into my skin and touching my blood, which runs throughout my entire body. Yecht! It's like, like my entire body is contaminated after that, 'cause that tickhead touched it. Ew. I'm not clean for another seven years.
Other things, I'm okay with. Mosquitoes are okay. They don't hang around. They bite, suck, and go. Fleas are even okay, and I've got vivid memories of reading how fleas spread the black plague. Leeches are okay, because they don't dig in, they just bite to draw blood out. Ticks disgust me. Some carry lyme disease. They're tiny and hard to find. They get bloated and huge and disgusting. They drop out of trees onto unsuspecting passersby. If someone wants to buy me a stuffed tick animal, I would be delighted. I have to get over this already, because it's not healthy to hate something so much dumber than you.
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The conference in Connecticut went very much as it always does and not at all as I expected. I don't know why I always feel such a strong attachment to people from camp when I'm not near them, but then I see them IRL and it's like we can't connect at all. At camp functions, it is not unusual to see me sitting in a corner somewhere, watching people and feeling out of the loop. On the other hand, it is also not unusual to see me right in the center of everything, leading half the kids in wild theatricals... no not really. But I do get crazy ideas sometimes, and I can occasionally find some followers. And I am in the thick of things a lot. But it's kind of like a lightswitch. I'm either on or I'm off. And when I'm not there, I only remember being on.
I'm Peter Pan. I get hurt every time, and then I forget and get hurt again the next time. No, not really "hurt". But I never expect it to be what it is.
I also felt disconnected from everyone because I know I'm not Christian. And that was kind of the point of the conference. It was a youth fellowship conference for our church youth groups to get together. I have no clue how I'm going to tell them in three months.
But enough of that. I told Amy about me not being Christian. She did a lot like Lani did. She argued for a bit, and she tried to prove me wrong or something, but then she said something to the effect of: okay, you're that, I'm this, we can still be friends. It was really cool of her.
Amy and I had a really cool discussion. We sat in my hotel room for hours, talking. It was great. Amy's one of those people you can just talk to like that. Like, we discussed BIG things and stuff. It was oh-so cool. (And I'm now supposed to say "all encompassingly" instead of "totally". ) It was interesting watching Amy this weekend. She was basically doing everything. (Why do all my friends have about four times as much responsibility as they deserve and three times as much as they want?) It was crazy. And she was so stressed. (And why are all my friends stressed?) I tried to help out and stuff. And I tried to just be there. And I tried to listen when she just had to get things out and to talk when she wanted noise. *shrugs* I don't think I did a very good job. But I think she knew I was trying, and I think that helped.
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I feel small all of a sudden. Don't know why. Just like all I do is so ineffectual. It's important anyway (mainly because I know I'll think it's important later), but it really doesn't matter. Like I don't have an effect on people or something. Which is what I would really like to do. I want to affect people, and I want it to be a good effect. ... I'm rambling because I'm tired. (About eight hours' sleep in the past sixty hours.)
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We got to the church, and my mom wasn't there. We had called and stuff, but she didn't pick up the phone. We had to wait a longish while. Probably around half an hour. In the mean time, I went and got Lani. (Since he lives right next to the church and all that.) We brought him home with us and had a good time. Rue and I watched Billy Elliot with him, which was cool. We went on a walk to my old elementary school. We swung on the swings and played on the monkey bars a little and sat inside this weird metal-igloo-type thing. It was way fun. We talked about BIG things and felt BIG in doing it.
Ha! I also had Lani listen to "Alice's Restaurant", and I'm totally (all encompassingly) back on an Arlo Guthrie kick. But my Arlo-cd is gone missing! I'm perfectly desolated.
When we drove Lani home, it was perfect. It's an almost-cold night. We had the windows open but the heat on. Indie music filled the car. I felt calm. In place. (Sleepy, but Rue kept me talking.) It felt really good after a weekend of second-guessing a lot of my moves. (The conference really was fun. Just not what I needed right then. Or what I need right now. Right now, I want to feel BIG because I am discussing things that are BIG. I want to feel myself expand because of what I am connected to. I want that. The books I'm in the middle of, I'm not at BIG parts. Music isn't huge right now. But communication, one-on-one, or a small group, something. Something where I get to learn about a person(s) and s/he (they) get to learn about me. Books are huge, but they're one-way. I need mutual connection. Mutual bond. Mutuality.)
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Amy asked me to describe myself in an --ism word. (example: feminism, postmodernism, etc.) I don't know. One word is so containing. I'm small, but I'm bigger than that, right? In The Tattooed Potato and other clues by Ellen Raskin (one of my favorite books ever), there's this guy who finds one-word definitions of people. The one thing they can never hide about themselves.
My mom and I read that book when I was in (I think) 7th grade. I still don't know my word. You would think it would be obvious by now. Or you would think that I've just changed so much that of course I can't find a mono-word to describe myself. I'm not sure. I'm not sure how much we change and how much we simply are. I like to think we have a core, a beginning. Like our souls were once these empty beings, floating around, that got sucked into a body. But even an empty being is different from other empty beings in some respect or another, isn't it? I don't think souls are asexual, so it's not like I'm only different from people because of how I've grown up or something. I just... I want to know what people think of me. I want to know how I'm perceived. I think I tell myself that if I can find the one word to describe myself, I'll know how people see me. Stupid.
*goes to shower and then bed*
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Post by fico on Apr 28, 2003 18:58:38 GMT -5
*addition*
7:49pm. I went to get new lenses in my glasses today. It took a long time, because I kept the frames. (Frames cost a lot, dude. It's crazy. So I'm helping conserve money, since, you know, college isn't cheap either. ) They had to take my old lenses out, shape the new ones, and put them in. All that. So I was waiting around for a long time, completely blind. Well, no, not completely. Just almost-completely. PST was on. PST is the local pop station. Yecht! But I was mainly talking to people. I really hate talking to people when I can't see their faces. I mean, I hate phones (unless there's nothing better) because I'm such a body-movement person. Self expression through body language, rock on. And I couldn't see any expressions. Not facial, could hardly pick out what hands were doing. I felt so vulnerable and "lost" or something. It was hard to keep up with the conversations, because I wasn't exactly sure I was talking about the same stuff they were. Very disconcerting.
My glasses finished, and I got them tightened and things. And when I put them on and stood up, it was amazing. Everything was perfect. I could see the rug in detail. I could see people. I could just see. I don't know if it was because I had new lenses or because I had spent twenty minutes not being able to see anything or what. But it's still not totally worn off. (I got the glasses around four forty-five.) I was reading, and everything was easy to see, no squinting for me. Everything was just... distinct. That's the best way to describe it. Things are now distinct.
I got out of the car when Chandra and I got home. Our lawn is completely covered in dandelions. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy. The dandelions... you can't find more than a foot of grass without also finding at least one dandelion. (*wants to go out with a friend or two and have some alcohol (not enough to get anywhere near drunk) and then discuss something BIG*) Everything was so clear and distinct. Like a very intense and detailed coloring book with all the colors filled in. It didn't even bug me that a quarter of the colors were pastels. I was just enjoying the distinction of everything.
Bet and I are going to hang out really soon. This is very cool. We haven't seen each other in about five days or so. I miss her.
"I don't know who you were expecting. Probably some bitch who does not budge. With eyes the size of snow." -- Ani DiFranco, "Buildings and Bridges"
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Post by fico on May 4, 2003 2:01:12 GMT -5
5.4.o3
2:10am. AND I FEEL LIKE THE NEIGHBOUR'S GIRL WHO WILL NEVER BE THE SAME
A lot has been going on. A lot of it is good, and a bunch of it is bad...ish, but I really only want to talk about the good stuff right now.
I sent my dad an e-mail. It was cool. I basically just babbled everything out to him, about everything that's been going on with me. He was happy to get it. He likes to know what's up with my life. I don't know why I can't really tell him when he's around. I think it's maybe because, with him so far away, he just has no clue. Kind of like, I vaguely expect it to be his responsibility or something to just know about his kids. So I don't tell him what's up with me. But when he's away, he has no way of knowing. (Except through my mom, and she and I often have really different interpretations of what happens, and I don't want to be mis-represented.) So I can tell him what I did and what I thought and felt and stuff. And it's okay. And it's not awkward.
He seemed really happy to have the e-mail. He couldn't write much of a reply, 'cause he was busy. But I told him I would write again as soon as I had something worth hearing about. (I don't want to waste his time with boring life-of-gen-blah stuff.)
He told me to give my mom subtle hints as to what I want for my birthday, and to not look at the pricetag. That... made me feel really good. Not in the "oh, I can get as much as I want" sense, but in the "gee, he's willing to do that for me" sense. I mean, we're certainly not a rich family. And we've got six kids. ... So it felt good to know he was willing to splurge a little on my 18th birthday. I answered back that it was me, of course I was going to take the price into consideration... but thanks anyway.
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I had a talk with Chaia today. I love talking to Chaia during shabbot. We have just hours to ourselves. And it's her day of rest, so we don't do anything serious, because she's not allowed to. I mean, we have major-huge discussions. But none of the things we do... We don't do anything involving "man-made" things, like cars or money or blah like that. We just do "human" things. I can't think how else to explain it. I don't read her my writing that has curses in it, because she's not supposed to curse on shabbot, and I respect that. And she doesn't write all day. And just... I really love it.
Anyway, I read her Emeric. I really like Emeric, but I'm not sure where I'm going exactly. Like, I really like the way it feels. I'm just not sure how to get from where I am to where I want to be. You know? And I like Emeric because he sounds different than all my other writing. He's more... Rue described it as more "mature" writing, which feels like an accurate description. Maybe I've matured since I last wrote something, or maybe it's because he's in third person. I don't know. But I like how it sounds, and I like how it's developing.
So Chaia gave me a mini-critique on that, like she always does. Only it was... different. I don't know. We discussed it. I think that was the difference. It wasn't like I just read it and she said she liked it and that was it. And it wasn't like I read it and she said I might want to change this part or that and I said I would think about it and that was it. This was, like, I asked her if she thought I should get rid of such-and-so a paragraph for these reasons, and she agreed. But I should keep the information in by doing this writing technique. And it was just... *sighs* It felt like we were actually on a nearly-equal plane or something. Like she was regarding me more as a fellow-writer than as a student-teacher. And that feels especially good from Chaia, because I know I can always be a student with her. I can always be five. It's okay. I can't do it for too long, because that's not healthy, but I can relax with her like that and then face the big, bad world on my own again. Something like that, anyway.
After we had our Emeric-discussion, I read to her from The Phantom Tollbooth. We're reading it together. Because... because I really want to enjoy this book for a long time. So I'm sharing it with everyone who's important to me right now for who they are. Like... *tries to think how to explain* Like I'm not going to share it with Bet, I don't think. I mean, if she's interested or something, I definitely won't keep it from her. But she's not really in the up-and-moving part of my life as much. But I am going to share it (if they want, that is) with Gilt and Freddie and Chaia and Kel and Eli and Lee and Lani. It's important to me to do that. To have the memories of it.
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I've been having a lot of cool discussions. They make me feel good. Oh! And Gabi's sliding back onto Trapdoor! Her schoolwork has slowed down some, so she's posting some more. This makes me way happy. She and Jack are going to have music-discussions like no one's business. (Already are. *sticks out tongue*) Which is cool, 'cause Gabi's too much for me, and Jack's too much for me. So now, I can just watch the two of them and try to learn something. *rolls eyes*
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Speaking of Trapdoor... I joined Hufflepuff. This is really big. I mean, I've sort of been protesting the Houses, in a way. *rolls eyes while blushing* Serious. But... I dunno. I have a lot of reasons for it. *sighs* Mostly embarrassing ones that I don't really want to mention. Or ones that I just don't want everyone to be able to know about.
*rolls eyes* Rue asked me. She said something like, "did you apply for Hufflepuff?" and I'm like, "yeah..." And she was like, "oh. ... ... Why?" And I kind of avoided that question, but then it turned out that Koko had just forwarded my PM to Rue anyway. *sticks out tongue* And then, if you please, Rue goes and forwards the PM to Lee. Because apparently Lee didn't exactly believe I wanted to apply or something. I dunno. I didn't think I was that far out in left field. I mean, Koko said I was the most eligible non-Huff. *skeptical face*
*smiles* That's one thing. Incidentally, by joining Hufflepuff, I'm forsaking Slytherins everywhere. *rolls eyes* Oh well. I have my reasons. *endeavours to look mysterious*
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Billie and I are talking. Still. It's cool. Really cool. I love my talks with Billie. Billie, you rock my Chucks. *grins*
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So I have this thing. For some reason, I'm really secretive about certain things that happen in my life. Like, not in the way that I can't talk about them. More in the way that other people can't know which people I feel what way about. Does that make sense? So, like, almost everyone I talk about in my journal has at least two names. I mean, I'll sometimes refer to them by their Trapdoor names, or by their IRL names, or something. But... I don't know. A lot of people just have more names, because I don't necessarily want the people reading this to know what happens with me and other people. Like, they can know, but they can't know who those other people are. I'm trying to think why this scares me.
I'm also trying to think why in the world I'm scared to go to sleep tonight, but it's one of those nights. Geh. And I have church tomorrow. Goodie, more lies to give the Christians. *becomes cynical and sarcastic and other "s"-sound starting words when tired, such as Slytherin, and Spanish-speaking, and silly... and stupid*
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Song of the day: End of the Summer by Dar Williams
the summer ends and we wonder who we are and there you go my friends with your boxes in your car and you both look so young and last night was hard you said you packed up every room and then you cried and went to bed but today you closed the door and said "we have to get a move on it's just that time of year when we push ourselves ahead we push ourselves ahead" and it was cloudy in the morning, and it rained as you drove away the same things look different, it's the end of the summer it's the end of the summer, when you move to another place
and i feel like the neighbour's girl who will never be the same she walked alone all spring she had a boyfriend when the summer came and he gave her flowers in a lightning storm they disappeared at night in green fields of silver corn and sometime in july she just forgot that he was leaving so when the fields were dying, she held onto his sleeves she held onto his sleeves and she doesn't want to let go, 'cause she won't know what she's up against the classrooms and the smart girls, it's the end of the summer the end of the summer, when you hang your flowers up to dry
and i had a dream, it blows the autumn through my head it felt like the first day of school but i was going to the moon instead and i walked down the hall with the notebooks they got for me my dad led me through the house, my mom drank instant coffee and i knew that i would crash, but i didn't want to tell them there are just some moments when your family makes sense when it just makes sense so i raised up my arms and my mother put the sweater on we walked out on the dark and frozen grass, the end of summer it's the end of the summer, when you send your children to the moon
the summer ends and we wonder who we are and there you go my friends with your boxes in your car and today i passed the highschool, the river, the maple tree i passed the farms that made it through the last days of this century and i knew that i was gonna learn again, again in this less hazy light, i saw the fields beyond the fields the fields beyond the fields and the colors are much brighter now, it's like they really wanna tell the truth we give our testimony to the end of the summer it's the end of the summer, you can spin the light to gold
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Post by fico on May 5, 2003 4:22:02 GMT -5
5.5.o3
3:44am. I'VE GOT BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN SURVIVE
Rue is going to bed. She was literally falling asleep sitting up. Her head just slumped on her chest. It was really cute, actually. *rolls eyes* But, yeah, I'm going to go hug her for about ten minutes as she falls asleep. I don't know if she wants me to sleep with her tonight. I think she does. She and I get like this sometimes, where we just really want to sleep with each other. I still don't really want to sleep, but that's besides the point. *sticks out tongue*
*goes to lie with Rue*
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*comes back*
*smiles serenely* I want that as a job. I want to hold people as they fall asleep. How cool would that be? You ever think about things like that? Like, like there are characters along the lines of the BFG and stuff. What kind of no-money job would you want, do you think? Because, since it's a no-money job, it's not like people could really expect you to do it all the time. So whenever I need to be alone, or I just don't want to touch people, or I'm busy, or whatever, I wouldn't have to. But I wish I could do it more often.
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I've been thinking about light a lot recently. Today, I went and sat in the sun while I read some from my book. It was just a really calm day, in general. And I sat on the front steps. It was probably around five o'clock, and our house faces west. So I got it pretty strong in the face and stuff. It made me blink and squint, but I didn't really want to go inside either. When I finally did, the house was too cold, and everything was spotted because the light was gone, and I got dizzy. (I've been getting dizzy a lot lately. It usually happens around this time of year, since the weather's getting warmer I guess. But not this much. I think I'll try to drink more fluids and see if that helps. It might just be really mild dehydration or something like that. Or maybe I should eat more. )
The day started out pretty awful. I didn't get to sleep until about five am. And then I had to wake up for church. I was in a really crappy mood (I mean, not just because of lack-of-sleep), and I didn't want to go. I wasn't going to go, either. But then my mom said I had to because she was going to Perth Amboy for a meeting, and I had to drive the kids home. I had about three minutes to get ready. I just threw on some clothes and brushed my teeth, and decided to take a shower when I got home. Grabbed my satchel (complete with book, notebook, pens, current-story-in-progress, and cd's) and ran for the car. I had dressed slightly not-churchy on purpose, hoping to annoy my mom a little. But I think I've broken her. She didn't even comment on the fact that my shoes had a big rip in them. *sticks out tongue* Got in the car. The Mercedes is the only one that's working right now. I'm okay with this, because it's got a cd player. I put in OK Go, hoping my mom might listen to the lyrics of a song or two and take a hint. I looked in the back seat and was surprised to find that Airlia had brought a friend. I said something completely stupid and i'm-so-sleepy like, "oh... hello", complete with blinky eyes and slightly slurred voice. She laughed and said hi back. The rest of the ride was entirely uneventful.
Got to church to find a guy from Compassion was there. Compassion is this Christian organization. They go to poor countries and help the people there. They get people to sponsor children, and then they set activities up and housing and all kinds of good things. The clincher: if you're sponsored, you have to go to a bible study (I think at least once a week), and you have to go to these mandatory meeting-type things. The guy was all talking about how this is okay because no one is forced to become Christian. I leaned over to [Bennie], who was sitting next to me, and I said "oh, so we're not forcing them to convert, we're brainwashing them instead." I get the distinct impression Bennie might feel the same about Christianity as I do. She's younger, but she's way cool. She laughed a little and gave me this Look that she always gives me. Kind of surprised at what I say, kind of appreciative, kind of ... something.
After Sunday School, we hung out in the Elder's Room. Lani burned me a cd, which I have to listen to. (I tried to on the way home, but the car's cd player isn't the best. It's a great system and all, but it doesn't accept all burned cd's, even though it's new.) Lani, Rue, Airlia, [Kayla], [Rabbie] and I stayed for a long time, talking. Rabbie is really cool, too. She's the daughter of this Bishop who goes to our camp. She's 26, and she's dating the guy I've had a kid-crush on since 5th grade. *rolls eyes* (Lani, if you tell anyone about my kid-crush, you're dead. *looks menacing*) She's way Christian. She's one of the ones I'm really worried about telling that I'm not Christian. Because I know what she thinks of non-Christians, and I don't want her to think of me like that. But I would rather her misconceptions of me were her mistake, rather than my fault for not properly informing her. Does that make sense?
Anyway, we got onto a discussion of gender and sex. (Because Nialle got me hooked on the issue, and now I debate it with anyone I can. Like, there's this one guy at Sunday School. He's always telling me to shave my legs, and I'm like, "why?", and he's like, "because that's what girls do", and I'm like, "define 'girl'", and he's like, "anyone that's not a guy", and I'm like, "define 'guy'", and he's like, "anyone that's not a girl", and I'm like, "what's that tree over there, a girl or a guy?", and he's like, "it doesn't matter", and I'm like, "exactly. it doesn't matter." *rolls eyes* Yeah, at this point, he just tells me I should shave and when I ask why, he gives up. But I guess that isn't really the point, is it? Like, it's not the point to win the debate; the point is to actual convince him of my side. Hmm... *will have to think about how to do this next time*) Anyway, we got into scripture and stuff, showing each other lines from the bible in an effort to convince each other of our seperate sides. It was just awful, because she was saying things like, "here, in Matthew, it says this", and I had to try to come up with something to argue that when I don't believe the book of Matthew really exists, you know? Rabbie kind of won because of that. But we also kind of just let it drop. (We let it drop in the same way we let the fig-tree argument drop. I brought it up with her, and she spewed some stuff at me, and it still didn't make sense to kill the poor tree.) Actually, after all these arguments Rabbie and I are having, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't half-expect it when I tell her I'm not Christian. Like, she's pretty sharp. I wouldn't put it past her to suspect that something's up.
Got home and took the kids to Wawa. We have a deal; I drive them into town, they buy me a hoagie. (I think I've got the better end. The problem: they have most definitely caught on to this. Rue helped them pay. ) Rue and I always share the hoagie. We accidentally got one that was four inches shorter than we're used to. Except for some french (freedom) fries that we had later, I didn't eat anything else all day. The weird thing: I'm not hungry. *is pretty sure this is a bad sign* Oh! Wait, no. Rue and I made some eggs. Okay, I feel better now.
Went online as soon as I got home. I might be able to call Jamie sometime this week. Her parents are out of town. I'm really hoping I can. I'm really hoping she's as cool IRL as she is online, and I'm really hoping I seem as cool IRL as she seems to think I am online.
But I was kind of hogging the computer. So I let Rue on, and I read my book. (I'm getting toward the end of Tamsin, and I'm still liking it. I'm really behind in my book-resolution, though. Two and a half books, to be exact. Gleh.) And then I played hacky-sack for a bit. I haven't played in a while. It felt good to be moving again. And I got out my old hack, which felt familiar and used. I got up to 57, my old record, but I didn't make 58 because a car drove by, distracting me. Usually, cars stop. Sometimes, they creep by at about ten miles an hour. This car was going about twenty-five, I'd guess. Some silver convertable-thing. Bleck.
It was just a good day. I had some pieces of good conversation. I got Rabbie's phone number, so we can hang out some. I got directions to [Charlie]'s house, which is good because I still haven't given him his Christmas present. (By the way, Charlie is the guy Rabbie's dating.)
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Post by fico on May 5, 2003 4:26:43 GMT -5
Yesterday (I think it was yesterday), this really cool, really unexpected thing happened. I was talking with Rue. She had just posted in I Am Jack's Abode (which still cracks me up) on Trapdoor. And I said, "do you think Jack knows that we're brother and sister?" And Rue started to reply, but then she stopped. And I looked up from whatever I had in my hands (I think it was food), and I stared at the printer because it was the first thing I saw. And then we both started laughing. It was so weird/cool. It was, like, I dunno. Natural, I guess. It felt natural. Totally in place.
All these things have been going on with me and being-a-guy. Like, I've totally become Rue's over-protective older brother. ... Example: I think all her skirts are too short unless they come to her ankles... maybe just about the ankles is okay, but only maybe. And then, like, Airlia was talking to mom, and she said something like, "mom, why's Tamara so weird? She's not even a girl." And the kid down the street, Airlia babysat her a little while ago. She let me hold her. (She's seven now, so she doesn't like to be held all that much.) And she looked at me, right in the eye, and said in her perfectly matter-of-fact kid's voice, "Tammbra, I'm sorry that I sometimes call you a boy, but you just have short hair and you look like a boy and I sometimes forget." I told her it was okay. But she went on about how she was sorry, but she just didn't remember all the time. And I told her it was really okay, I didn't mind when she called me a boy. And she said okay. And it all feels right.
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Our bathroom window faces east. It's this little window. I can crawl out it, but it's a bit of a squeeze. (And I'm only 5'5".) I love looking out that window at night when the window is up and the screen is up. It's perfectly black out there. There's just our yard, which is bordered by trees on one side and part of the house on the other, then more trees on that side too. And the backyard becomes the field. If you kind of lean your head to the left, you can see the radio towers. I always know I'm near home when I see those towers. And our cherry tree pretty much blocks the searchlights that the builders have guarding their bulldozers and caterpillars. I'm really terrified of what's going to happen to my window-watching when the golf course is all set up. I pass a golf course on my way to guitar. It's lit up bright as day at nine o'clock. It's disgusting.
I've become completely non-light. (Today's sun-sitting was a very rare exception.) Like, I get by on the bare minimum of light. When I read, half the time I'm using my flashlight. At the computer, I like to have a light on because we have one of those flat-back monitors, and they don't project enough light to type by easily, so I have this little desk-lamp that I took out of my room. I don't turn on the overhead. And I go around the whole house, turning off light after light.
Chandra does the exact opposite. She's got that thing, that light-deficiancy thing. She gets depressed in winter because there isn't enough daylight or something like that. So I was telling my mom that Chandra was really annoying me, and my mom said that it was just because Chandra needs light, and I yelled that it was spring already, she doesn't need light year-round, does she? I don't know why it made me so mad. It just feels so... a combination of wasteful and unneeded and ... ugly. Light is so ugly.
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My sense of time is so off. That's what happens when I don't sleep. I forget which days are which, and I don't exactly care. But I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, so I'm in it for good once I go to sleep. I probably won't wake up until ages later.
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Oh! Speaking of tomorrow, I'm going for a homeschooling evaluation. (It's about damn time.) I need to complete my transcript and send it to Coe. But I can't complete that until I know what I need. So I'm going to be bringing in a bunch of stuff I finished, like my notes from Art History, and my notes and tests from Humanities, and my cards that I made up to study for the Spanish competition, things like that. I'll find out how many more classes I need to take, and what things I'm missing in order to get my diploma. (I'm hoping that all I'm missing are American government and history (I already have a book on that) and my ten-page paper. I really want to just get this year out of the way. Send my transcript off. Just relax a little, but mainly study up on some cool things like myths and gender so I don't feel like a dunce when I go to Coe. And I have to improve my vocabulary. ) It'll probably go well. Homeschooling is pretty leniant in Penna. Like, I learn a lot, but if would be relatively easy for someone who wasn't learning to act like they had. (Erm... I never really did study Geometry; tried, but it didn't really work. Gleh. *but wants a copy of Euclid's Elements really bad*) Besides, I know that I've got all my courses. I'm going to end up graduating with loads of classes, since I always study more than just eight things a year.
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Gurg. It's after five. Unless I want to be a complete zombie for that evaluation, I'd better get to bed. *goes off to practice guitar first* Oh! Oh! I'm learning flat-picking. Yay.
*edit* I don't know why I said that about being a zombie. I'm sorry, I don't zombie. I mean, occasionally, I do. But it takes a lot to make me a zombie. Like, 96 hours with about ten hours of sleep, that might make me zombie. But even then, I spent an entire school year like that. I would get about three hours of sleep a night and then crash on the weekends. Got great grades all year. (Not that that says very much; it was the public school.)
I really have to figure out this sleep thing I've got going. It bothers me when I don't know things about myself. And it bothers me more when I'm scared of things.
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Post by fico on May 8, 2003 1:03:16 GMT -5
5.8.o3
12:14am. I SAID "YOU'LL HATE IT HERE, 'CAUSE WE'RE THE ONLY ONES LIKE US"
I haven't really been thinking about anything that I haven't posted about somewhere else. So I won't bother with that. But things have been happening to and with me. Little things. Things worth mentioning, even if they aren't very interesting.
I'm reading The Phantom Tollbooth to Chaia. I went over to her house... yesterday? My timing is still screwed. And it's about to get worse, because I'm pulling an all-nighter tonight, due to a strange sleeping-pattern I developed today. I went over to her house armed with Tollbooth and Emeric. I read to her from Tollbooth first, because she wasn't sure how much time she had. When Milo got to Expectations, she absolutely cracked up. That made me feel great. And she kept laughing through the Doldrums. It was great. It turns out she hasn't read this book, though she thought she had. This makes it even better. I love that I can share this with her when she hasn't experienced it yet.
After we finished, she went to get a drink of water. On her way back in, she asked me if I'd ever thought of reading to the blind. It would have been my biggest compliment in a while, if I could have believed it. That happens sometimes. Where something is just... a combination of too-cool and not-what-I-thought-of that it seems like it would never happen. I never did think of reading to the blind. I can't do voices. My voice cracks sometimes. I hate when books have songs in them because I can't sing them. Just... gah. But Chaia said they don't like you to do they voices anyway. They like you to just read it with only an inkling of what's going on. So the person you're reading it to can come up with hir own voices and things. But since I never thought of it, it still feels way out of my league.
So then I read her more of Emeric. She definitely likes Emeric more than a lot of my other stuff. I think she and I are similar in thinking Emeric is a better story, while my other attempts were good characters. Does that make sense? I had become so wrapped up in the characters, I forgot there was supposed to be something holding them together. Emeric has that. The funny thing is, Emeric is the exact opposite of another story I'm trying to write. In my other story, the idea is that you don't need a plot to have a book, not in the least. It's kind of like a journal, that other story. If you read someone's journal, they never have this one focus and then end. They switch from focus to focus, story to story, interest to interest. And we're not bored with it. So why do people get bored with stories like that? Where there's no set conflict? I think it's because they never know what's coming next, or how long it will be until the next thing, or anything. With Harry Potter, we always know how much longer we have to go, because the book is always over with the school year. My goal with this other story is to find a way to make a book interesting when it doesn't have a main plot, a main focus that ties everything together. Or rather, it does, but it's a very subtle one. The focus is the main character's developement. He developes from this majorly set-apart kid to this kid who's willing to at least try trusting people. Needless to say, it's a little intense, and very difficult to write. So it's set aside a bit as I work on Emeric, but I'll try to get back to it.
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Bet and I had a good discussion a few days ago. It felt really good. Because it was a good discussion in a way that Bet and I usually don't have. We're normally either talking about something outside ourselves (like a movie or something) or ourselves. We've done a lot of psychoanalysis on both ourselves and each other. But this discussion wasn't like those other ones. This was more the type of discussion I have on Trapdoor. We were talking about crying. She and I have very different ideas about crying. And it was really cool to talk about those different ideas without having to worry about them being different. Like, I wasn't scared of offending her or anything, because we just had different views on something personal. But at the same time, she was interested. *shrugs* I dunno. It was just different from how we normally talk about big things. And it felt better. Cleaner.
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I had a really good guitar lesson tonight. I'm glad of that. Ely is teaching (trying to, anyway) me how to listen to a recording and pick out what the strum is. Like, "Bum chicka bum-a chicka" or "Bum diddy diddy dum" or whatever it is. I'm really horrible at it. But I'm much better than I used to be, back in August. So that says something. And in the mean time, I get to semi-learn some cool Dar Williams songs like, "Party Generation" and "Wilder than Her" and "Flinty Kind of Woman" and stuff. I'm also going to learn some other people, but we're just going through this cd I whipped up, and those are the first three songs. (I honestly did just whip that cd up. I hope she gives it back to me after we finish this exercise so I can throw it out. It sucks majorly.)
But even though that cd sucks, I've got plans of making about three cd's or so. I want to do, like Best of ___ cd's, only they'll have cool titles. But seriously. I'm desperately lacking in Dar-music and Richard-Shindell-music and stuff. Not only because I lost all those cd's a while ago. But also because I want to put, like, "Terrarium" on the Dar cd, and that was only released on these tapes that she made before she made it big. So, yeah, I'm half-thinking about that, so it will be good when I do make it.
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Post by fico on May 13, 2003 19:58:54 GMT -5
5.13.o3
I'M SO TIRED, SO TIRED. I'M SO TIRED OF HAVING SEX.
8:41pm. I have been sleeping like no other. Honestly. I average about ten or eleven hours a day. (I haven't really been sleeping at night insofar as I have to, considering that it's dark less than half the day now... right?) This is completely throwing off any hopes I'd had of doing anything constructive. I always figure I only need eight hours, so I don't practice guitar and I don't write Emeric. Then I fall asleep before I mean to and wake up way after I mean to. I wake up to find I didn't practice guitar before going to sleep or write or even eat, most of the time. So I figure I'll do it the next day, since I got to sleep so much. Then I fall asleep before I mean to again.
Rue jokingly said it was because I was growing. That really bothered me. Not because Rue said anything wrong. Normally, I'll welcome a joke to any situation because I think it's important to always be able to joke about things, even way serious things, way more serious than sleeping too much. But it bothered me for two reasons. One because she's taller than I am, and I always want to be taller. Two because I was sort of thinking the same thing, and I'm not sure if I actually do want to be taller. I've kind of gotten used to the idea that I'm a certain height, and that's the height I am. It's a joke that all my friends (except Brit and Jamie) are taller than I am. They all laugh at my inescapable small-ness. I get all mock-angry about it. It's fun. It's kind of... comfortable. I've gotten used to it.
And now it might not be like that anymore, and that bothers me. Because I'm going to have to change a bit, in order to deal with it and things, and I don't know if I want to change that way. Geh. Besides that, it's very unlikely that I'll be as tall as I want, anyway.
I've been trying to keep myself busy. It isn't going very well. I've been trying to keep busy for a few reasons. Because I don't want to think about a certain situation. And I don't want to think about a certain someone. I know I'll have to. But I can't do anything about the circumstances, so I'd rather not go assuming things. I'd rather not think about it until I'm a working force in the turnout. That way, I won't make any false assumptions that would just confuse things further. But it's hard to distract myself this fully. I've been reading a lot.
*wishes he could have made a more interesting post, but nothing has really been going on* Oh! But Rue, maybe Lani, maybe Kim, maybe Airlia, and I are going to see Susan Werner on the 18th. *is practically in love with Susan Werner * For sure, I'm way excited about it.
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Post by fico on May 14, 2003 16:39:32 GMT -5
5.14.o3
SO THAT'S HOW I LEARNED THE LESSON THAT EVERYONE'S ALONE 5:21pm. Big College Fear No. 1: I'll be forced to sleep alone.
I am not looking forward to this. The prospect is not comforting. I don't like it.
Rue and I are really close. We have been for over a year. Before that, even when we weren't close, we still slept together. Our parents don't use much heat, and they turn it off at night. And Pennsylvania winters can get pretty cold. So Rue and I got into the habit of sleeping together in winter. She's very warm. We would pile both our blankets on one bed. I helped her retain her body heat, even though I emit almost none. It worked really well.
Then we got closer, and we started sleeping together just because. Because it was fun to fall asleep hearing someone else breathing. Because it was fun to care for each other that way. Like, I loved how she would nag me about turning the light off after I finished reading. But mostly, because when I felt small, I had someone to hug. Because when you're in a twin-sized bed, and the smallest of you is 5'5", you learn to hug or to fall off. And because it's comforting, to fall asleep hugging someone.
Coe is almost one thousand miles away. It costs about two hundred dollars to send someone there and back. I don't think Rue will be able to visit me, just because I don't want to sleep alone.
The evil paradox: by the time I feel comfortable enough to ask someone to sleep with me, I'll also be comfortable enough in the environment that I probably won't need anyone anyway.
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Post by fico on May 18, 2003 14:42:48 GMT -5
5.18.o3
SHE IS BEAUTIFUL AS MUSIC
Sun. 2:23 pm. So many things going on, and I just can't seem to concentrate. Or... I can concentrate, but only on one thing at a time. I tried to read some threads on Trapdoor, but I just couldn't handle the changes in mood every time someone new posted. That's kind of the point of Trapdoor, of any message board, really. So I left for here. I was able to settle down a little and read some of Ellinore which Nialle started posting. (You have no feckin' clue how bad I've wanted to read this.) But I got through two posts and felt really distracted. Partly because I had already opened this reply-window, partly because my mom and sister were having a mini-argument, partly because I'm in a semi-sluggish mood and it was hard to concentrate on who was talking and what kind of characters they were. Partly because I'm screwed in the head right now. I'm going to wait until I'm in a much calmer, less-distracted mood before I actually read it. You know how some stories are like that? It just doesn't... "do them justice" if you try to read it in a frazzled state, like you're not respecting it if you don't have the right mood in which you can really take it in.
---
Loads went on. Bet's birthday came and went, without me thinking of a present in time. But Bet's one of those girl-type-girls... she doesn't want things out of obligation, that makes her feel pitied; she wants them because the other person wants to give it. (We got in a fight about that once, only it was about hanging out together, not about gifts. I take the more "guy"-ish stance of obligation still being worth it. I mean, you get credit for doing something out of obligation, don't you? That's still worth something. It means you care enough to not want to hurt the person. She says it means the person doesn't want to hang out with her, and she doesn't want pity, so if I only want to hang out with her out of obligation, I should just forget it. *shrugs* Girls are weird.) So I told her I hadn't thought of a good one yet (that's the other thing, she would rather wait for a good one than get some crap-obligation present, which I do agree with), but I would give it to her soon as I did. Thought of it: there's this song by Jimmy Eat World called "In the Middle". It's this, like pep-you-up song. ("hey / don't write yourself off yet / it's only in your head you feel left out and look down on" "hey / you know they're all the same / you know you're doing better on your own / so don't buy in" etc.) Which is totally perfect for Bet. She gets somewhat down sometimes, and I never know the right thing to say. So I'm taking that tune, and I'm re-writing it a little. Pfah. I'm re-writing it all. So the song in the end will have a double-meaning. Because the song I'm writing is all about Bet and me, about our history, and the tune I took is all about "don't let the bastards get you down", so it's just great. *hopes he can actually write a decent set of lyrics* And then I've got to come up with one or two side-dishes, but that's the main course. Yeah.
I slept over Bet's house on the night before her birthday. It was cool. We got to bed late-ish, which was devillish when we had to get up at 6:30 or something else un-Godly like that. But it was cool anyway. We had good discussions, though I can't quite remember all of then now. (I was tired then, and I'm tired now. ) Drove home and ended up going with Mom and Rue to pick Laszlo up from college. That was kinda fun. In a weird way. Made me resolve to have almost no stuff at college with me... a resolution I intend to break.
It's kind of weird having Laszlo back. I walked down the stairs last night and was all weirded out at the very male scent that just puffed up. I dunno if he uses guy's cologne or what, but he smells like a guy if ever I smelt one. Makes me wonder what I smell like...
I was talking with Bennie about smells today. She said it's weird how people just have smells sometimes, and how some people smell like their laundry detergent (I think Bet's one of those people) and some people smell like their hair (I think Bennie's one of those people) and some people just smell like something else. Either what they work with (Endre always smells like cars, even right after a shower) or just who they are (I think Rue is a who-you-are person; I have no clue where else the smell she has could come from) or something. That's another thing I'll miss in college. I won't be able to smell Chaia's house, and I won't be able to smell Rue. ... Maybe I can beg a smell-infested thing off of each of them.
I had a talk with Chaia recently. I can't remember which day, now. (Sleeping is still weird, have completely lost concept of time.) It was a very good talk. We discussed all kinds of things, including gender and gender-expression and good books and just everything under the sun. (Oh! Right, it was on the 15th that I talked to her, that was last Thursday.)
Then I was looking at her, and she was so beautiful. Truly, you haven't seen beauty until you see Chaia in all-out, mother-mode. It's more beautiful than my solitary night-walks with a crisp moon and a cool breeze. It's more beautiful than most of the songs I've heard... and I think that the ones it doesn't beat can only manage to tie with her. For serious. She's just absolutely gorgeous. So I told her about how Gilt and I were talking on im, and Gilt told me to go to a site. On the site, there was this picture of these two girls in the back seat of a convertable. It was black and white. And one of the girls was smiling so big. And they were both so happy. So I worked this idea out with Gilt, and then I described it to Chaia. You know those times you see or hear or notice or whatever, there's something that you experience. And the thing is just so perfect and complete, that it makes you feel more complete for having experienced it. You know those times? That's what it's like with Chaia a lot. There's just this complete-ness to our being there. It's really great.
I talked to Chaia about Piper. Piper was so huge for me. Piper was, like, my Chaia-away-from-home, literally. I latched onto Piper while I was at school, and Chaia while I was at home. Anyway, I'm going to Coe next year, which is way off in Iowa. Every year, my old private school (where I met Piper) has this alumni picnic at the beginning of May. I won't be home from Iowa by then. So I'm going to have to miss the picnic for about four years. Thing is, I don't think I ever really told Piper how important she was to me. (I swear, she had demi-goddess status... or higher.) So I talked to [Dee], my other fifth-grade teacher. (Technically, Dee was my teacher and Piper was the other teacher, but that wasn't how it worked in my mind.) Dee still keeps in touch with Piper. I managed to get Piper's address.
So I wrote her this letter. *bites lip* And I mailed it. If the mail was on time, she got it by now. I'm really nervous about this. Because... because I basically said, "You were mega-cool for me, so thanks. And I'm curious who you are, because all I know about you is what my goddess-envisioning 5th-grade mind tells me, and I'm not even sure if those memories are accurate. And if you want to write back, that would be way cool and I would appreciate it." Then I had a P.S. which apologized for sounding so formal. And another P.S. which apologized for a philosophical rant and a foornote and over-use of my somewhat extensive vocabulary, and then said that I was only trying to show off in hopes that she would reply. *bites lip again* Why do I do that to me? Why do I just throw myself completely out there to be bashed? I mean, she hasn't seen me in four years, and that was only for an hour or so. And before that, she hadn't seen me for three years, not after she left the school. And here I go, telling her everything. I mean, she has no connection to me, not one as big as the one I have to her, anyway. She might not reply at all, and that would make me feel sucky as all hell. Or she might reply with a sweet little thank you and leave it at that.
I'm really serious about wanting to know her. I want to know who she is and what interests her and all that. I want to know what she does with her time, and I want to know what if feels like to her to be almost thirty and still not know what you want to do with life. (I'm afraid I might end up in the same boat. Or not "afraid", but I think it might happen, and I want to take advantage of it somehow, so I'm curious what she's thinking and feeling.) ... And the conceited little person in me wants to know if she remembers me. *shrugs* I don't know what I want. I just want to know who she really is, because I sort of don't think it's fair to either of us that she's still a demi-goddess in my mind... especially since my memories of her are fading.
So I really want Piper to write back to me. And I really want her to not be weirded out. And I really want her to want to stay in touch, and maybe even become friends. And I really want her to not think it's weird that I want to be friends with someone who's almost twelve years older than I am.
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Rue and I and Lani are all going to a Susan Werner concert tonight. *is way mega-happy* Susan Werner is just... so great. I'll try to post about it after it happens.
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Post by fico on May 18, 2003 14:43:35 GMT -5
---
I read Wicked by Gregory Maguire. I finished it yesterday. Then I picked up Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez, and I read that. Then I picked up Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging by Louise Rennison. I got about half-way through that, realized it was about three in the morning, and decided to go to bed, as I had to get up early for church this morning. (Our Sunday School went to the elder's home today, and we always have to show up early for that.) I don't know why reading was so very important, but it was. I've been doing a lot of it. Maybe that's why I'm finding it hard to concentrate on things, because I focused on the books for so long. I think the only thing getting me through this long-as-anything entry is that it feels like I'm switching topics a lot.
Wicked: way cool. I want to be Elphaba. I want to because... because some of the things she knows, I want to know; and some of the things I know, I think could have helped her? Something like that. Whenever I feel like I could help someone I can empathize with, it tears me up. I feel so useless, so helpless. I just watched Elphaba and I was so... worth nothing. No, that makes it sound all wrong. I don't mean that. I mean... I'm worth something, but not what I want to be worth, you know? I want to be able to help people, but even if I had known Elphaba, I wouldn't have been able to. But I know she would have helped me, which makes me feel oddly... selfish? I'm not sure. I've only read the book once, and I haven't though everything out yet.
Rainbow Boys: geh. You know those crappy teen-angst-books? This was one of those, with a gay-twist. So it still wasn't good. It was just... predictable in a bad way, because you could tell the author wanted to keep you guessing. And the characters... were okay. I mean, the book didn't suck. I just wouldn't recommend it. You know? I had a lot of trouble figuring why characters did certain things. I mean... I got mad at them, because if I had known them IRL, I would have told them off. Which I guess is good, good writing I mean, because it means the characters meant at least a little to me. I dunno. It wasn't that good a book. ... Though they did use the word "ergo", which was cool.
Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging: I don't normally read these books, let's just get it out there right now. I got it from the library because I'm terrible with names and titles, and I thought Jamie had told me it was good. Anyway, it wasn't good. I mean... It was worth the one read, because it did have a bunch of funny bits and things. But I'm not going to re-read it or read any more in the series or recommend it to anyone. It was fun because it was written by this British chick, so it had all this Brit-slang. And it was cool because it did have those funny parts, like I said. Just the overall essence of it kind of overshadowed my liking of the slang and the funny bits.
I am now attempting to actually finish some of the bunches of books I started before. Like, I got about halfway through Anne of Green Gables in one day, but then I got distracted by another book. I think it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is currently lying on my floor next to Anne, waiting for me to remember that I'm only about two thirds through. On the other side of the room is a stack of library books. I've read about one chapter from each of them. Gah. This is what I mean. I can focus on a few things (like this post and like those books I read yesterday), but I can't concentrate on others (like Trapdoor or Ellinore or the dozen books I re-checked out of the library).
I have gum on the bottom of my shoe. My Ravenclaw jeans have a hole in the knee, which I'm going to patch up with something brilliant. *has not had any strokes of genius lately* They also have a hole in my wallet-pocket. *is hoping to beg a Slytherin patch off of Gabi* I'm going to see Gabi and Brit about a month. *is anxious and excited about that* I'm shutting up now. *shuts up*
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Post by fico on May 19, 2003 0:14:37 GMT -5
5.19.o3
WHEN WE GO [VEENING]1 IN OUR CARS, RACING THROUGH THE NIGHT. SHE CAN DRIVE AS FAST AS ME BUT SHE STOPS AT ALL THE LIGHTS.
Mon. 12:24am. *has seen Susan Werner* Wow. Just wow. It was ab-fab. (*is in a weird mood after having seen Susan Werner and then talking to Bet soon after, as well as listening to the soundtrack to Billy Elliot*)
Okay, so I picked up Lani. Rue and Airlia came, which was cool, though Airlia was very... Airlia through the whole thing. She's a lot quieter than I am, and I never know what she's thinking unless she chooses to make it blatantly obvious by making a disgusted face at me. So I don't know how she liked it, or whether she liked it at all. Anyway, we're driving there, and Lani says to me, "Well, since I'm not seeing you on your birthday [sidenote: Lani is going on a class trip, since he's graduating and all], here's your present early." And he hands me this cd. It's the Billy Elliot soundtrack, which rocks in so many ways. Lani and I were all talking about the music after we watched the movie together, I mean, as well as the plot and characters and all. And it was 'specially great because he had wanted the soundtrack too. ... I felt really good that he had bought it for me and not himself. It was really cool of him. (*wonders if Lani bought two copies and just gave one to him. ... is still in that weirdy mood.*)
So we get there and park and all. We get great seats because we showed up more than an hour early. But we're all starving. (I'm back down to one meal a day. Pleh. And I hadn't eaten yet that day, except for a snack at church. Oh, and I got a sandwich at home.) So Lani and I go and get directions to a good pizza place. We drive, listening to the soundtrack as we go. (We listened, of course, to Susan Werner on the way there.) Turns out the pizza place is closed on Sundays. But there's a Chinese place in the same shopping center, so we go there instead. The food was really good. Unfortunately, the opening band wasn't as good. Rue liked them a lot, but I only thought they were so-so.
Then Susan Werner came on. *can't quite describe* She's beyond gorgeous, for all of you who like girls. I mean, gorgeous-gorgeous. (She's also straight (I'm almost positive), for all you guys who like girls and happen to be around her age, which I would guess is at least thirty. ) And when she concentrates, she gets this crease between her eyebrows, it's really cute. And she dances while she plays. And she can play guitar as well as piano as well as sing. Unfortanately, she's a little too straight, a little too old, and a little too far away for me. (She lives in Chicago. Even at Coe, that's far. *doesn't know why it matters, considering the first two reasons* *doesn't know why she keeps going on about it*)
Susan Werner was really funny throughout, and her voice was dead on, and her playing was great. I felt really connected to her, even with the more jazzy-stuff, which I don't usually get. I think it was mainly her stage-presencs. She's really good at taking the audience and moving their emotions around. I love that. She totally caught me up in it, which was way fun.
One of my favorite things about Concerts Under the Stars is that it's so laid back. People just chill and listen to the music. It's like when you lie on your bed (or in it, as the case may be) and you've got headphones on and your music up loud. You're just there with the artist. Or maybe you've got a few friends over, and you've all crammed onto the bed, and the music is way loud. And instead of talking, you all just feel the music together. It's like that, depending on the song. Some songs make you feel like you and the artist are the only two people ever created, the Adam and Eve of the musical world. And other times, you're the whole damn world, you and everyone else there are the whole world, and you're enough. And other songs, they make you feel like you're connected to anyone you ever met. You're all a piece of something huge, and it's all an illusion that you ever weren't connected. This is why I love Susan Werner. Because she can make me feel like that, if only for a short time.
We went up afterward. I bought two cd's (borrowing money ) and had her sign them. (Wow. She's so great. And she has schoopy-messy handwriting. ) Rue did her whole, "I haven't seen you in so long" thing again. Rue is abso-feckin'-lutely hilarious. Then Susan Werner was all like, "yeah, you, I remember you." She pointed at me, "and I remember you too. Yeah. Both of you." We had a way cool discussion. Susan Werner is too cool for words. We had (well, Rue had) her call Gabi and Brit, and she left a message on Brit's machine, saying something that started with "Well where the hell were you?! I mean, I've got your friends here in Philadelphia, and they wanted me to call you, and you don't even have the decency to be there." She's so funny. And she called Lani "kinky" because he's Hungarian, which is oh-so funny. And just... I want to get to know her, as a real person, not as a singer. But I think it would be hard to get past the fact that I'm a fan, you know?
Anyway, Rue's waiting for me. (*is hoping to sleep with her tonight*) So I'm going. I hope I remember the whole night. *knows he won't be able to*
------------------------------------------------ 1. veen. v. to careen around a curve in the road. the action is usually accompanied by a screeching sound of tires and a vrooming sound from the engine. (definition a la s.w.)
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Post by fico on May 23, 2003 13:42:25 GMT -5
5.23.o3
TODAY IS A BIRTHDAY / THEY'RE SMOKING CIGARS / HE'S GOT A CHAIN OF FLOWERS / AND SOWS A BIRD IN HER KNICKERS
2:32pm. Gen's birthday list, two thousand three.
1. A sit down dinner. One of those proper ones. Where there's real food that's edible and not-too-unhealthy. And there's conversation with only one or two disagreements, and no real arguments. And family, only family. Only the people that you end up dealing with simply because you have to. And because you have to, you understand each other in this one way. Mom said we're going out for chinese food. yay. (this color means it's part of the edit) So we went out for dinner, which was very cool. Bet came, which wasn't quite as cool. I mean, she's my best friend... I was just expecting it to be one of those family things. Which is way weird, because I usually don't understand family things. But I got it today. And it wasn't as great not having it when I wanted it. But it was cool. It was "nice" (I hate that word, but I think it actually fits here1) to have Bet there with my sisters and mom. And I have loads of left-overs, so I won't be hungry tomorrow. *grins*
2. To talk to one or two people that I really want to be able to talk to on my birthday. I probably won't be able to talk to one of them, but that's okay. I'll deal with it because my dad just called from Iraq. That's right. And we talked about cool stuff. It was fun. And he might (if we're way lucky) be able to come home around the end of the summer. Like I said, I talked to my dad earlier. And of course, I had dinner and stuff with Bet. (More on that later.) And I really wanted to talk to one other person, but I couldn't manage it. But they did wish me happy birthday, which made me feel really good.
3. A spice cake. Waited seven damn years, and I really want it. We're going to Giant (local food-store) after dinner, to pick up ingredients. Rue rocks.
*will edit later. must go to pick up Airlia, because Airlia is paying for his cartelige piercing. that's right.* ... but don't tell my mom. Got the cartelige. (How in the world do you spell that, anyway?) Got it in the left ear. (This is because, according to that whole left=straight, right=gay thing, I am straight. Socially, I've pretty much become a guy in my own eyes. Sexually, I'm mostly attracted to girls. Ergo, I'm a straight guy... most of the time.) It was way cool of Airlia. Bet met us at the mall, and we hung out in Hot Topic for a while. (They have some of the best shirts. "QUIT WORK. MAKE MUSIC." "People like you are the reason people like me need medication." One that was done in army fatigue says "Ha! Now you can't see me!" Stuff like that. I love it.) Got home and worked on patching up my Ravenclaw pants. (I'm sewing bits of cloth over the knees with quotes written on them. Then I'm sewing smaller patches in other places so the knees don't look weird. And I'm having a blast with it... And I'm being a complete nerd.) Bet came over and we all went to chinese. Then I hung out wiht Bet for a bit, we drove around some, looking for a copy of The Matrix to rent. (We want to watch the second one tomorrow, but I refused to watch it until I had re-watched the first. And our copy is lost in the complete disorder that is my house.) Didn't find one. So she just bought it at Best Buy and brought it to my house. She also brought Hot Chick2, which she said was really funny. We ended up watching both. Then she went home, 'cause she has work tomorrow.
I understand that this is kind of a boring entry. But I think it's important to remember what I do on my birthdays, 'cause I wish I could remember previous years'.
--------------------------- 1. "Nice" fits in that context because it implies (in my opinion) that you don't really appreciate something, but you're trying to. Bet went to my house before she went to the mall, and my mom invited her to dinner for me. So I couldn't just tell her I didn't want her along, even though I would have preferred if she hadn't come. Because I did enjoy her being there, I just think I would have liked a purely family thing. Not because of blood (has read Nialle's journal today ), but because of the way I relate to my family, simply based on the fact that I've been forced to live with them my whole life. And I haven't been made to do that with Bet. *feels vaguely stuck-up about this, but wouldn't back down from his case unless there were a good argument in opposition*
2. Hot Chick: Overall, I didn't like the movie. Bad acting, bad superstitious basis (I really don't like those "switch bodies" stories), bad handling of homosexuality. On the other hand, there are a few things to be said about it. No one had a problem with a little boy cross-dressing, which I thought was way cool. ("If you're going to wear those heels, you have to learn how to run in them." --the boy's father) They also sort of had the idea of what I think about "inner people" or whatever. Like, how you look past any exterior in search of whoever a person actually is. But they kind of touched base on the idea and then overlooked it, if that makes sense. Like, I thought they were going to make my point, but then they ended up taking it to the other side, and they made it more about the exterior. Geh. *can't explain due to lateness* One of those movies that I wouldn't watch again, but I don't really regret watching it either.
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