So, Mark Twain once said, "Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer." I just want to say how much I adore Mark Twain. Because I just wrote and edited three reports in the last three hours. I feel like I deserve a fucking medal. I'm tired, I'm grouchy, I'm feeling guilty, and I can't go and get water until my mother goes to bed. It's almost two in the morning...GOD! GO TO BED! Yeah, I'm really thirsty.
So, as for the rest of my day...
Jasper, "Hey! I got free tickets to West Side Story, at the Fifth Ave Theater! Balcony seats! Wanna go with me?"
Me, trying not to picture the hurt look on Powers' face, "God! Yes! Yes! Oh...I can't. I have A FUCKING REPORT TO WRITE!"
Jasper, hugely disappointed, "Oh....right....yeah...."
Me, "Fuck."
Later that same day...
Powers, in an attempt to be nonchalant, "So, what's up with you and Jasper?"
Me, aggravated, and not going to BALCONY SEATS at West Side Story, "Growl."
Powers, "You ok?" *smooch*
Me, "Fuck."
And Xan has been fucking marvelous, letting me bounce everything off of her. I think it might be torture to hear about how much Jasper adores me, yaddah yaddah yaddah. She's just a little pillar. I think I should just get some sleep now.
We kissed so hard last night, we bloodied my upper lip with his braces. Can't particularly complain, it was so worth it. Now I have a little souvenir. We split a beer, he drove me home. We got in a fight. His ex, a flame I'm currently nursing. Needless to say, neither of us were being particularly loud, or angry...just very honest. He called me manipulative, I agreed. We got to my place, I got out, he didn't kiss me goodnight. I came upstairs, sat down, and started sobbing for the first time in half a year. No tears, just dry sobs. He called. He told me that I should try for it with Jasper. I seriously considered it, and then realized that there wasn't anyone else out there that could get me as worked up as he could. As shallow as I am, I recognized that depth of emotion. I don't want to be that cut off anymore. I told him I loved him. Well, my exact phrasing was, "This might be weird after only a few weeks...but I think I kinda love you."
All he said was, "I love you too."
I'm completely stuck on this guy. I can't have a conversation without him cropping up in unexpected ways. Kissing him makes me dizzy. I've taken to sleeping in his hoodie (is that creepy?). I'm freaking myself out.
My stage manager is spending the night. I love me some Xandii. She and I made ground turkey wrapped in butter leaf lettuce. It came out amazing. We dipped it in Worcestershire sauce. I made so much. We're bringing it to school tomorrow for everyone. Ha. I can't wait to move out. It seemed very peaceful tonight, the two of us cooking, and working on the dishes and laundry.
I love laundry. I hate hanging it up. Dilemma. I've decided to buy a man's wallet. I hate my femme one. It's impractical, and garish. Plus, it doesn't fit in my pocket.
Summer is only two weeks away! Ode to the vacation;
Oh summertime! How I do long for thee each year,
Oh joyous sun! I have missed you so,
Oh car rides! And ice cream! And happy, happy school-less days,
Goodbye Grecian Dramas! Au Revior dominatrix teachers!
Farewell until next year,
'Cause vacation's here,
And I'm slacking until the last possible moment. Yeah.
Memo to me; rent The Lost Empire, watch it with Powers.
Ah Vox, it has been too long. My life has been a chaotic mess lately. Between the new boyfriend, the old one, my school, planning a massive summer vacation, putting on a drama production, and wrestling with getting a job and moving out...I feel like I'm finally back to being myself. I'm not afraid anymore. I've gotten back to the me who could make the half-serious sex jokes, and hang around with the boys. I've gotten back to the me that isn't worried about what you think of me. I've gotten back to the me that holds a group together. It worries me because I'm loosing my other group quickly. Being a nation away isn't helpful, and I'm so scared that one day I'll say; "Fuck it! This isn't worth the effort." For the record, it is. Nothing is worth more than maintaining the people who knew me first. I've evolved so much in the last two years (god, has it been that long?), and admittedly, I wouldn't change much, but there are a few things I hate. I'm so inflexible, and so selfish, and I might be destroying my relationship with both of my parents. I blow off my father when he calls..I disdain my stepmother, I don't listen to a damn thing. And don't even get me started on my home life. I'm so self-destructive that I'm stagnating. I sit at home and do nothing when I'm here, but out in the world, it's like I'm a 360 change. I come alive, I laugh, I chatter, I tease, I clean, I work. I just...wither when I walk in my own front door. I lost my house keys recently, I'm beginning to wonder if it might not be a sign. I've been out of the house so much lately, that now I only come back to shower and change. My mother visibly thrives with me gone.
I used a Mac for the first time today. It was...weird. Not unpleasant, and I'm a fast learner, but I was still kind of shooting in the dark. In any case, I finished one of my six US History papers. I have two weeks before the end of the semester. I'd not put any bets on this race horse, haha. I'm going to ask for a power book for Christmas, I really dig OS. I'm losing track of this post, so I'll just say adieu. Anyway, the boytoy has just logged on.
Trey is finally coming to stay!
Yay!
He's leaving on a jet plane, and I get to pick him up at the airport. I loooove this kid.
Not much to say here, just enjoy your holiday!
Snakes are romantic and charming. They are deep thinkers and always mysterious. Snakes are graceful and soft spoken. They love a good book and appreciate all of the arts. They lean towards all of the finer things in life. Snakes trust themselves above all others and are seldom wrong; but behind a sophisticated front,Snakes are very superstitious!
Snakes are good with money and don't have to worry about finances. Somehow, when money is needed, it appears. In spite of their good luck with money, Snakes should never gamble. They could suffer big losses if they did, but Snakes learn fast. Once they have made a mistake,they never repeat it. They also never forgive you if you break a promise. By nature they are skeptical beings but keep their suspicions to themselves. They are very private and not concerned with the business of others. Idle gossip is not for them.
Snakes can be possessive in their relationships with others.They are passionate but jealous lovers. You can never tell how far Snakes will go to achieve their aims. They are relentless and their computer-like brains never stop plotting.When you anger them, you feel their icy hostility instead of hearing any sharp words. They will bide their time for revenge, so watch out! Snakes are elegant dressers, well-mannered, and always discrete. They always appear quiet and docile, but watch out, they never betray their true feelings. Their moves are planned out well in advance and they will hold their position to the bitter end. They can be evasive, and just when you think you have them, they slip away.
Snakes make good politicians since they can negotiate just about anything. Snakes also have a great sense of humor, and even in a crisis situation, they can lighten the atmosphere. They never lose their spark even when weighed down by trouble themselves. Being pillars of strength,they always maintain their presence of mind during confusion or crisis.
Snakes have beautiful skin. They possess a cool and classic air about them. They love expensive things,too. Snakes save for the real thing rather than buy an imitation. Snakes admire power and surround themselves with successful people. Their many talents and natural abilities make them sought-after as leaders. People admire and support Snakes even if they don't understand them.
Whatever happens, Snakes always strike out for themselves. They know how to use people and situations to their advantage. They are destined for fame and fortune.
I've gotten to a point in my life where I want as little to do with the people around me as possible. As it is, I only ever want to speak to Trey or Ashley, and I'm only doing what I'm supposed to, because it'll benefit me in the future. My idea of paradise is a hammock somewhere with an endless supply of excellent music, better books, indie flicks, and piña coladas. A nice sea breeze and white sand beach would also be welcome, but we can't have everything. Lazing about and flitting off to unexplored corners of the world with nothing but the clothes on my back would be a perfect career choice for me.
In other news, I've decided I want a Pembroke Welsh Corgi. I like them, and am going to get a puppy. I haven't decided on a name, but I want a male. A great dane was my first choice, but a dog that size is more than impractical in a city apartment. If I had a couple of acres in the country somewhere, then I'd seriously consider it. I think I'm a dog person, and it took my feckless cat preferring my step-father to make me realize it. Mean-spirited, flighty creature, oh my heart will never mend.
I start two new classes tomorrow at the community college, Political Sciences, and Sociology. I'm painfully excited. Not only are these two subjects that I could pass in my sleep, but they're things I'm genuinely interested in. Maybe that will inspire me to greatness. We can only hope.
My father called Friday morning. It was about six a.m. We talked for half an hour. I forget sometimes how much I miss him. In any case, I hinted strongly that I wanted a Mac, mentioned that I'm starting photography, and skiing, and I've got some seedlings planted in my room. He was proud, proud, and very surprised. I think he's wondering how long I can keep a garden alive. Secretly, so am I. Still, I planted them all today, watered them, and put them in a sunny window, and we'll see how it goes. If this fails, I have about another ton of potting soil (it only comes in one size bag), and another packet of seeds. Try, try again. That's all thus far, until next time.
I found a box today. It was in the bottom of the hall closet, behind the vacuum cleaner, under a pile of my mother's old dresses. It was labeled, "stupid little things I keep." It was a treasure chest. I found moccasins, dyed blue, only able to fit a baby, and haphazardly stacked photographs. Inside of the box, I found other boxes. Christmas card boxes, old shoe boxes, all stuffed with pictures and business cards, and keys, and postcards. Photo albums abounded, some empty, some crammed. I found so many pictures of me. There were my uncles, and my aunt. Very few of my father and his family. People I didn't know, places I've never been, and so very many of me. Beautiful baby-faced pictures of me. I sat down on the hardwood floor of our entrance hallway, to our expensive condo, and nearly cried, because my mother had taped my childhood up in a box, and put it in the bottom of the hall closet. And looking around our "home" I see so few memories, and most of them are only of my mother and step-father on various, glamorous vacations. There are two framed pictures of me in the entire place. One is a mini on the refrigerator of my mother, and some of my friends brunching at the space needle. One is only me in Whistler, looking like a standard tourist in big glasses and a white bathrobe. I'm fourteen in both. I found in that box my life, and my mother's life before me. Two entire albums were dedicated to her childhood home on the east coast. I can pick out my grandparents in one, looking young and slender. It struck me how stashed everything was. I felt dirty looking through them, like I was committing a crime. Theft of memories, maybe. In the bottom of the box I found copies of my parents wedding invitation. I wonder if maybe I'm the skeleton in my mother's closet. That thought didn't feel good. I stole all of my baby pictures. Right now, they're languishing in my desk drawer, messily tossed, until I can look at them all. I hope she notices.
