The True and Outstanding Adventures (Part II)

This is one of my favorite covers for the book, "The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters." It is very similar to mine, except that the title is placed above the girl on my copy.

Please Note: This entry will make much more sense if you have already read the entry entitled, "The True and Outstanding Adventures." Take notice that this is titled "(Part II)".

One of the things I love about this book so much is the cover. The little girl, in her pink princess dress, with a crown on her head, skipping across a bright blue sky... waving a sword. And happy. As if princesses are supposed to wave swords. As if she is supposed to be waving a sword. It is yet another personification of the fighting spirit. It is ridiculous to fight a losing battle. It is ridiculous for a princess to wave a sword. And yet, some do it anyway, because they believe what they are fighting for.

It reminds me of the games I played when I was young, and the differences between those games and the games Emily played. I don't mean like boardgames, I mean make-believe. I only know what games Emily played because I read a paper she wrote for a class regarding the effects of childhood games and make-believe on the person that played them.

Example: Emily often played the role of "damsel in distress" when she was younger. She was the princess who had been captured or cursed or whatever, and basically waited for the prince to save her. Now, I don't know Emily well enough to figure out what kind of effect this may have had on her, if any, nor how strong the effect is. But according to Emily's paper, she has trouble making decisions and doing things for herself. She doesn't like being her own advocate. She is uncomfortable being "her own hero," so to speak.

I was rarely, if ever, the damsel in distress. I was the hero's sidekick. I was the victim who was making a great escape. I was the princess waving a sword over her head. What can I say? I was kick-butt. And I've developed a fighting spirit, I assume, because of it. So much so that I would say I don't know when to stop fighting. And when it comes to the point that fighting is futile and I think I may need to stop fighting, I don't know how. I really don't. That is when I turn into Emily. If I have to stop fighting, I can't make my own decisions or do things for myself. Because all I know how to do is struggle and fight and push and make an effort. To stop doing that is like to stop being me. But sometimes, fighting just isn't what you are supposed to do.

Like the princess with the sword, I don't always know my place. Don't you know that you, a princess, aren't supposed to hold a sword, much less run about waving it like a magic wand? Don't you realize that as a princess, you shouldn't fight, but sit demurely on the side and let things play out, hoping that they do so to your advantage? Don't I know that fighting a losing battle is going to cause more pain than good?

Maybe I do. But I just don't know how to not fight. I don't know how to not hope. I don't know how to stop futile fighting, and I don't know how to let go of false hope. So convention says I need to do both of those things, but my consciousness says that forcing myself to do so would be a defiance of my nature, painful, and bad. I don't know who is right. I don't know what to do with my fighting nature and my love of hope.

A friend from church, whom I shall call Sound, told me this. It is something that gives the princess the right to wave the sword and gives me a reason to fight and hope. :

He says that if you are naturally something, it is because you are supposed to be that thing. If you are naturally stubborn, then you are supposed to be stubborn. You weren't given your stubbornness so you could fight it down and force yourself into submission. You weren't given your intense need to stand up so that it's hard for you to sit down. You are made something to be something. The key is to know where to use it. Are you going to stubbornly fight to keep him, or are you going to stubbornly fight for the dignity that he is destroying? Are you going to stubbornly fight to get him back, or are you going to stubbornly fight to keep yourself as strong and self-reliant as you were before this happened? As strong and sure of yourself as you naturally are? As you are most likely meant to be?

<3 o.

p.s. : Sound's words were much shorter and to the point. Parts of what I included were the things that went unspoken, but that I felt were very much what he was trying to get me to realize.

The True and Outstanding Adventures

"The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters" is a grand and magnificent book. It follows the story of Olivia Hunt as she tries desperately to keep together her unravelling life, and her sister, Madeline Hunt, who is fighting vainly and ferociously against the leukemia and treatments that are wearing her closer to death. Olivia Hunt is somewhat of a pessimist, but she is also a fighter. Maddie, as Madeline is called, is an optimist, and a very idealistic one at that. This drives Olivia insane. Olivia is willing to fight where she thinks it might work, or where Maddie shames her into action, but she does not believe in helping everyone that she can or fighting needlessly or anything romantic like that.

Olivia is also working, throughout this book, on a movie adaptation of Don Quixote. Now, I have never read Don Quixote, but here is what I gather from what I've read about it: Don Quixote is basically crazy and reads nothing but books about chivalry and knighthood. He decides to become a knight, and he picks this random farmer, Sancho Panza, to be his squire. So they ride around, and Sancho takes care of Quixote while he is doing crazy things, like attacking windmills and freeing criminals -- all for the sake of love and good. At the end of the book, Quixote is dying, and he renounces all of his actions and beliefs -- about heroism, chivalry, and whatnot. He says that he knew everything he was doing was nonsense and that he had done it anyway for the sake of those good things, but now he was renouncing it. Sancho can't stand to hear Quixote say this, because, even though the things Quixote did were crazy, and somewhat pointless, Sancho has become infected with the ideals of heroism, bravery, and doing good. So even after Quixote has died, and renounced his own knighthood, those beliefs live on in Sancho Panza.

And that is kind of what happens with Olivia and Maddie. After Maddie dies, Olivia finds a note from her that says Maddie knew all along that she couldn't beat the cancer, and that she knew it was a helpless cause. She said she fought anyway, for the sake of fighting, and for being brave, and for others. Olivia, despite being a pessimist, starts to realize the point of fighting a losing battle -- not for the victory, but for the qualities you stand for in your fight.

I have a point. I'm getting there.

I live in reality. I'm a pessimist by nature. Bad things happen -- bad things are about the only thing that happen. I am convinced. But, I was raised on fairy tales, and I love them. I am an optimistic pessimist. I believe that everything is, by nature, evil. But I have this weak, pulsing, thing inside me that hopes that some things might defy their evil nature and make good.

It's a false hope. As with this situation with Han, the hope doesn't belong there. No matter if he says he loves me, no matter if I love him, no matter how hard I fight for hope of fixing this -- it won't happen. It's futile to fight, in this case.

And yet, and yet... there's that hope. That naturally shiny thing that the fairy tales have carved into me, and that little silver life line that Han has thrown to me by saying that he would like to come back to me and that he still loves me. The pessimist in me knows that that is probably not true. But that isn't enough to severe that life line. Because I hope what he said is true.

So is it time for Don Quixote to lay down his spear and set aside his armor and renounce his battles for love and goodness and the victory of all that is right? Or does he continue battling to keep the hope of those things alive?

<3 o.

Whine A Little, You'll Feel Better

Or at least, I will.

After this, I'm going to try not to complain so much. Only talk about things that I think about. Or think about things to get other thoughts off my mind... or something.

I don't want to go into the details of what's been happening. It's a messy, dramatic, confusing, painful business, and I don't want to think about it.

My body keeps shaking. I'm a little cold, but I can't imagine that my whole body should shake from being "a little cold" when I am sitting directly under the hot air vent. My stomach hurts a lot; almost as if there is a lot of pressure on or in it, although there isn't. I have no appetite, which is bad, because I am currently 95 pounds, and I need one. An appetite, I mean. My forehead feels sore and bruised from thrashing it against the bathroom wall during lunch.

I just realized that the ring of Han's that I'm holding on to is on my left ring finger. I thought I had it on my right. I made the deliberate decision to keep it on my right because of our recent complications. I have no recollection of its transition to the other hand.

I keep thinking or doing things and then in the midst of them wonder why I would do that. If I see much of my flesh exposed, I imagine it being sliced open. My skin is just so unmarred, it seems only natural when I think of it that there should be a cut of some kind. When I realize that I'm thinking about that, I am horrified. Today, I made a list of ways to die and all the pros and cons of these methods. I was reading it over, and I realized that it was a horrible and morbid thing to do, and I didn't even know why I had done it. Sometimes ideas just pop into my head. When I am alone on a staircase, I have the urge/idea: "Throw yourself down that." If I am driving on a country road and there are telephone poles, I get the thought: "Hit one." Immediatley after these things pop into my mind, I respond with, "What? That's a stupid idea, why would I do, or even think that? That's weird." I ignore it and go on. But that's getting increasingly harder.

I don't just yell at and cry at my reflections anymore. Now we argue. They tell me what to do. I tell them to shut up. They tell me not to be stupid and to listen to them because they know what they are talking about. I tell them to leave me alone. Someone usually tells the other that they're ugly. She is though. I often find myself that I'm glad I don't look like any of them. And then I remember that I do. And that's pretty upsetting, because they don't look very happy.

<3 o.

You Know There's Something Wrong When...

1. You miss school Thursday and Friday, have a Snow Day on Monday, and return to school Tuesday to discover that the outline for a research paper (for which the topic you have yet to choose) is due on Wednesday. You have a powerpoint presentation to finish over Vienna, Austria that you also need to have done by Wednesday. First hour Wednesday, you have an Econ test and you didn't bring your Econ book home to study.

2. You cry a lot for stupid reasons. Reasons like you have a big nose or that you'll probably never be able to write a book. And what sort of reason is that? If you want to write a book, then write a book. You can hardly cry because you'll never be able to write a book unless you're terminally ill or completely incapable of writing. Otherwise, what are you crying for? Nonetheless, you cry about it. Not because you want to, or you choose to. But thinking about these things makes you cry, and you just can't stop thinking about them. You really don't have a choice.

3. You cry a lot for no reason. You're just sitting there reading or working on a paper and all of a sudden you become conscious of the fact that you are crying. Upon further investigation, you can find no trigger for this phenomenon. No pain, no irritant (emotional or otherwise), no reason at all. And yet, you are completely incapable of stopping yourself - and then the fact that you can't stop yourself from crying for no reason at all seems to you a very good reason to be very upset, and that only makes you cry more.

4. You yell at your reflection in one mirror, and cry to the one in the other. As if they were people. As if they were different people, with different personalities. As if one reflection were to blame for whatever is upsetting you, and as if the other reflection is able to make you feel better. And then you apologize to them - for being insensitive and a burden. As if they care!

5. You don't enjoy anything. Your favorite past-times go unfinished if and when you call forth the energy to start them - which isn't very often, because it takes nearly all of your energy just to drag yourself out of bed in the morning. This is even worse if you have a reputation of being an energetic person. Five hours of sleep? Eight hours? Fourteen? Regardless, you wake with the same feeling: Complete and utter, unshakeable exhaustion. Apathy. Carelessness. The feelings drag on through things you are usually so dedicated to; art, sports, school, friends, church, music, whatever. All of a sudden, none of those things seem to matter very much. Or, if they do, you simply don't have the will to deal with them, because they aren't really enjoyable, they are a burden now.

6. Your way of coping with these difficulties is mostly thinking of self-mutilation. Attempts to find a way to hurt yourself without any physical damage, outside sign of self-inflicted pain, or hurt to your friends. You don't want to do any real, physical damage. You don't want to end up in a hospital, because you don't want this to be public. You don't want your friends to know, because you don't want them to have any feelings of confusion or guilt. Self-inflicted emotional abuse? Does that exist? You could take your migraine painkiller every day -- that might fix the problem all together. The doctor gave you a pretty high dosage; the medicine makes you pretty loopy. But, no, that's illegal.

7. No one believes you. According to everyone you take the time or energy to confess this to, you are a drama queen, you are over-reacting, you are crazy -- but you're fine, and nothing is wrong with you! You just need to cheer up and get over it -- and if you don't, then these people (whom, you decided after much internal mental conflict, you trusted) are going to have to leave or stop talking or walk away if you don't -- because they can't handle it. Because your emotional fits are too much for them to handle. Yes, your tears, your fits, your stress, and your all-around madness is too much for these outsiders to handle, but you -- the person coping with having all of it running around inside your skull -- are expected to "cheer up" and "get over it." As if you have a choice. As if you choose to cry compulsively. As if that's something you take pride in. As if screaming at your mirror is enjoyable. As if it's comforting that the only that comforts you is the idea of hurting yourself. Yeah. I bet you totally love it. I bet that you choose that, and I bet you wouldn't change it if you could.

<3 o.

p.s. : My mother doesn't know much, if any of this, but I've told her that I need "help," and we are in the process of finding me a psychologist.

A Room Without Books Is Like A Body Without A Soul

-Marcus Tullius Cicero

Have I ever been more content, especially in the last several weeks, than I have been while roaming the shelves of our school's library? Probably not. I can think of very few things that bring me more joy than to select a book not-quite-at-random (I do have my own ill-defined standards) and to read some lines, paragraphs, or pages. I also like to take a look at its history; how often has it been checked out, when, and by whom? I am always sad when I find a book that has never been checked out. How sad! Sometimes, if I find a check-out card that is fairly full (of stamps, varied handwriting with different colored ink, and lots of names), or has a familiar name (such as that of a teacher's), or hasn't been checked out in a while (but was quite popular in 1978), I will steal the card. I suppose that, to these books, I am something like the Grim Reaper. What are these cards to these books? Their memories, their souls, their pasts? Are they grieved to be parted with the cards? Are they looking forward to a new card? Or are they just books who could really care less about the piece of cardstock in the pocket glued in their cover?

Whatever.

You know I love books, and I would never intentionally hurt their feelings. Books are the only reliable escape for me and so many others. Movies are good, yes, but they are over so quickly, and there are some things that you can capture in a book that you just can't get in a movie. It is difficult to explain - but if you have ever read such books as Wuthering Heights or The Thirteenth Tale or any book that delves deeper than just what happens, then you can understand. With a movie, it is hard to capture any more than just what happens. In a book, there are no such limits. Your mind isn't limited to just what happens. If you are lucky enough to have found a good book, you are consumed by what happens, why it happens, who these people are, why they are who they are, their interactions, their feelings, thoughts, questions, uncertainties... You can become completely lost in just one character of a good book, nevermind the all-involving story!

I love the characters. Every time I open a book, I can't wait to meet the characters. I am always looking for one to connect with, and once I do, I emulate them. I think I can honestly say that my personality is a mesh of the characters I have met, adored, and mimicked throughout my life. My stubbornness and fits of passion? Catherine Earnshaw/Linton. My ability to be manipulated and attraction to mystery? Christine Daae. My desire to shock and surprise and be strong? Felicity (Gemma Doyle Trilogy). My belief that you should always help if you can? Samantha (American Girls). May I point at that there are some contradictions in some of those qualities? That would account for my confusion. I am constantly trying to decide: Is it more desirable to be like this character or like this character? In each book, each character is presented as the most desirable... none of them are presented objectively. So trying to emulate all of them is a very confusing and self-contradicting process. Not even just self-contradicting, but other-character-contradicting.

Being wild and without inhibitions is intimidating, but intriguing. Being gentle and generous is defenseless, but offers an opportunity to be defended. Pessimism is unromantic in its negativity but romantic in its possibility to be denied and defeated. Optimism is unromantic in its lack of need, but romantic in its endless joy. I have spent my entire life reading, absorbing traits from all over the specturm, and observing their advantages. I want to be both ends of all spectrums - I can't be - but in any situation, I am instinctively moved to be both. This is confusing in oh-so-many ways. Not only am I confused now by what I want to be, by my lack of knowing which is better to be, but I am also confused by the fact that I don't know what I really am. Without the influence of any books or characters, where on these spectrums would I fall all on my own? I think it's too late to ever know for sure.

I have quoted Muriel Rukeyser before, in August, as having said, "The world is up of stories, not atoms." I want to remind you of the truth of that. I, for one, am certainly made up more of stories than atoms! I surely am not the only one. But, if I have to be made of anything other than atoms, stories are surely the best thing.

I have to admit that writing this post while sitting anywhere other than a library feels a tad bit like blasphemy; however, I have yet to encounter a library that will allow me to access my blog, and so I will simply have to cope.

<3>

For Me? : Acknowledging Problems

My dear friend Elsa has recently discovered a blog, which we have both added to our sidebar jiggers, called "I Wrote This For You." It is a collection of photographs taken mostly of common things with uncommon lighting or perspective, and each photograph is given a statement. Sometimes the statement is clearly connected to the content of the photograph, sometimes it is not. Here is one statement from the blog.

"Sometimes it feels like every song on the radio was written just for you.
Sometimes, they are."

I don't listen to the radio, but I do listen to my iPod on shuffle a lot - and it is nearly the same thing, because there is a lot of music on there that I get from friends and relatives that I am not familiar with.

Music is a strange thing. Sometimes, you can go years listening to a song, thinking nothing of it. And whether you physically skip it or not, your brain skips over it as soon as you recognize the first few notes, because your brain knows what is going to follow, and that there is no point to it, and it sees no point in listening to it. But then later, for some reason, your brain doesn't skip the song, and you listen to it - and it seems that the words must have changed, because all at once, not only is it a song that you can relate to, it's a song that you need.

These songs are magical things.

I have encountered one such song recently. I do not know its name or who sings it. It is known to me only as "Track 03" in the mix "Good Music for EmilyBean." The words that I either didn't notice or didn't understand before are the following:

"Is this the good, the beautiful and true?
Can't see the battle when it's right in front of you
In the mirror, I know a weary heart when I see one"

Obviously, that isn't the entire song, but that's the beginning, the part that probably got my attention, and the part that, according to "I Wrote This For You," was probably written for me.

I have an obsession with being "strong." Not physically, but emotionally/mentally. I don't know how many people are aware of that. However, when I have a problem or problems, I often deny their existence, or their severity, or the need for help in dealing with them - not just to others, but to myself as well. I don't like relying or being dependent on others - that requires making one's self vulnerable, which I consider dangerous. Because of this, I try to deny that I need other people. I try not to let many people know too much about me or how I feel about certain things.

So, because problems, severity of problems, and the solving of problems go ignored in my life... they've gotten bigger. Because I've been denying their existence, I "can't see the battle when it's right in front of me." I don't allow people to help me with my problems as often as I should - I don't even allow people as near to maybe might be best - I'm tired of dealing with everything mostly on my own. But I'm so in denial, I don't "know a weary heart when I see one."

I'm obsessed with weakness and not being weak. I hate to cry, especially when there is a chance I might be seen. It is almost imposssible for me to cry during the day, when there is light and I am more visible. If someone has actually seen me cry, it was probably a big deal - Either I was very, very upset, or I trust them very, very much.

I am not really sure why I hate the idea of weakness so much. Certainly, I don't want to risk being hurt. I don't want to be vulnerable because I don't want to be injured. I don't want to be close because I don't want to be abandoned. But I also wonder if my small size has something to do with it? Do I feel weaker - more at risk and more vulnerable - partially because of my size? Am I trying to prove something, maybe? That I can still be strong emotionally and mentally even if I can't be strong physically?

Or am I just trying to blame a problem I have on something that I can't control, when the problem is something that I can fix and should be fixing? Like I do with many of my problems, as a way to deny their existence, their severity, and their need for a solution?

<3 o.

p.s. : I found the song. It's called 'Perfectly' by Judd and Maggie, I believe.

Bermuda Triangle Getaway

That was the name of the play that my drama class put on.

Mrs. H has never come closer to cancelling one of her class's plays... but I'm pretty sure she's never been much happier with the results of going on with the show.

Our class (not just our drama class, but the entire senior class of 2009) does not work well together. We were simply not coming together. It wasn't working very well. Monday rehearsals were a nightmare. With a week left, we had a girl come to practice high and with no lines memorized... it wasn't a very promising night. Our publicity pitch was something along the lines of, "What does a brain-washed pilot, an alien in disguise, a 50-year-old boy scout, five beauty pageant contestants, and a hypochondriac have in common?" Well, the teachers' running joke was that none of them knew their lines.

Somehow, we pulled it off. Not only did we pull it off, but it was good. Friday night was near perfect... Saturday night would have been... Until Tony missed the mat upon jumping off the stage into the orchestra pit and broke his foot.

He had to go to the Emergency Room. He was shaking from the pain. He tried to go back onto the stage, but it didn't work. We improvised around it. My character was a wannabe cannibal - what else were we gonna do? Of course, when it came right down to it, I had to have eaten him. There was no other way around his sudden disappearance.

Most people couldn't tell that we had broken away from the script. I should have been voted best actress for that improve - it was stressful! I didn't though, Julia did. She deserved it. Her character was a lizard-obsessed scientist who falls in love with an alien. Halfway through our Friday-night performance, she overheard a few graduated students talking about how she was the only one who in the cast who couldn't act - so I'm glad she won it! I knew the group who was talking about her - they are real jerks. IN YOUR FACE, SLIMEBALLS!

Seth won best actor, naturally. He played a pilot named Jack who was brainwashed into thinking he was Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movie (which I have never seen). For the second act of Saturday night, he went gangster Dr. Evil, and it was hard for anyone to keep a straight face onstage. The only competition he might have had for best actor was Andrew, who played two parts with a total of four roles, because each of his parts was a person in disguise. He was an alien in disguise as a pirate and a rockstar in disguise as a hick from Iowa... it was pretty hysterical.

And Tony won Stole-The-Show funny, even though he wasn't even in the last half of Saturday's performance! YES, he was THAT funny. He was a copilot brainwashed to think he was Mini-Me from the Austin Powers movies... and every time he came onto stage, he was in a different random costume. A turkey, an old lady in a bathrobe, a white leather coat and an afro, a wedding dress... and all the time, he was jumping around like some kind of over-hyper monkey. Which is why he is now on crutches.

And we did make Mrs. H cry... but we thought we'd make her cry because we'd utterly fail. We thought we'd skip five pages of dialogue, or an entire scene or something. She cried because she couldn't believe we'd actually pulled it off so well - or that we'd covered so well for Anthony!

Take that, teachers. What does a brainwashed pilot, an alien in disguise, a 50-year-old boy scout, five beauty pageant contestants, and a hypochondriac all have in common? Uh, we all ROCK.

<3 o.

A Post Which Does Not Readily Suggest A Title

Today is November 4, 2008 - It is election day.

That is not relevent to this post in any way, other than the fact that I got little to no sleep last night, thus ensuring that I will probably be more honest than I should be while typing this, and will probably regret it later. But that was the point of this blog was it not? To give me a place to put the things that I would regret later.

Let's talk about Senor. I care about him. I don't mean kisses and snuggles and marriage and whispers and giggles and blushing love... I mean that I care about him, and that I hate seeing him suffer, and I really want to keep him from pain. I don't believe that any of my feelings for him qualify as romantic, but I'll be honest - I want desperately to hug him. I constantly feel the urge to put my arms around him and rest a hand his head and tell him to relax - it really will be okay, I promise! I'll make sure that it will be okay! And today when I saw the cuts on his arm, I just wanted to cry and wipe off each mark - not affectionately, but maybe like a mother might tend a fallen child's knee. I am not sure I am doing a good job of explaining this, but I know that it has to be explained. I absolutely cannot bear it anymore.

I know that if Han knew how I felt, it would probably crush him. I'm not sure if he would have good reason to feel crushed or not - does this qualify as emotional disloyalty? I would never, ever want to cheat on Han in any form. I've had in the past, and I suppose I still have, doubts about the stability of our relationship, and some of them may be connected in some indirect way to Senor... but I don't believe that I want to replace Han with Senor at all. I don't think I would even be able to if I tried. That is not to belittle Senor - Han would not be easy to replace. I treasure and cherish him dearly. He is amazing in every way. I would regret losing him for any reason.

But I am starting to wonder if losing Han is inevitable. No - I am starting to believe that it is inevitable. And I am starting to wonder how I feel about it. Am I alright with that, and trying to convince myself that I am devastated? Or am I devastated, trying to convince myself that I'm alright? Can I prevent it? Do I want to? Of course I can prevent it, within reason - I am in control of my life. The question (for the most part) is how hard I am willing work to prevent it.

And then I don't want to think about it.

How will my friends react? How will his friends react? How will my parents react? How will I answer their questions? What reasons will I give to people? What will I do with my solitude? Will I stay single? Will I get another boyfriend? If I do, what kind? If I don't, how do I say 'no'? What will I do with my Friday nights? What if I never find someone equal to him again? What if it is the biggest mistake I ever make? What if it is even just in the top five? Are there expectations that people have if I break up with him? Do they expect me to spend more time with them once we're apart? Am I using him as a shield?

What if I stay with Han, and I miss out on helping people that need help? What if I stay with him and end up with him instead of someone else I should have been with? What if I miss other opportunities? In careers? In love? In friendship? In education? In art? In literature? What am I sacrificing by maintaining this relationship? Do I need him? What if I do? Is that a weakness, or just part of being human? Are there things about Han that I don't know? That I don't realize I don't know because I'm biased? Am I limiting him in ways that I don't realize? Am I keeping him from other opportunities? In love, friendship, careers, art, travel, or anything else?

As for Senor... he says he loves me. Han would pitch a fit if he knew that Senor "loves" me, and I can't even imagine how he would react if he knew that I knew that Senor "loves" me. It matters very little to me how Senor feels about me... all I care about is that he doesn't dislike me. I don't think he truly loves me. I think he has been neglected by his family and the rest of society... I think that attention and loyalty I've displayed is something he isn't accustomed to. I think he doesn't realize how unremarkable I am; Once he does, I'm sure his "love" will lessen significantly. Until then, I am only slightly concerned; I do not want him to misinterpret my feelings for him. I do not me to misinterpret my feelings for him.

Don't assume that I'm doing that. Or that there is a high risk of me doing it. I only mean that there is a lot of love in me, and not much self-control. I'm not very good at explaining this. I'm just afraid that once other people start questioning my intentions, I will start to question myself. There is no risk of this while I'm with Han. One has nothing to worry about there. Only I'm afraid that if Han and I were to break up, would Senor think that I broke up with Han in part because of Senor? I don't want anyone to think that - I would never do that. I would never break up with one person for another person. But that would be one likely beginning of Senor misinterpretting my actions.

And then I start to worry - Am I using Han? Am I hiding behind him? Am I only with him to avoid complications between me and other people?

<3 o.

Fools of Good Heart

I woke up at about 1:20 pm this afternoon, even though I'd been planning on going to a play at a school (which was about a 50-minute drive away) at 2:00 today. I still went, but I got there about half an hour late.

I'd forgotten what a wonderful play The Curious Savage is. I've written about it before, in my post "The Ever-Present Sympton of Psychotic Thinking" in April of 07. The part that really made me think today was this short exchange between Mrs. Savage and Dr. Emmett :

DR. EMMETT. And who are the fools of good heart, Mrs. Savage?
MRS. SAVAGE. I'd say--those who gamble on people, and invest in kindness--those who doubt that position means privilege, or that manners mean morals. And, of course, the rebels with no fear of failure.
-The Curious Savage, by John Patrick

I would say that what the world really needs are more "fools of good heart": More people who are willing to take risks for the sake of others, have faith in humanity that may or may not have deserve it, and devote energy to helping others. More people who understand that pretenses have nothing to do with rights or value and that every human is worthy of love, whether they are rich or poor, part of a minority, or part of a majority.

What the worlds need is people are who are stupid enough to do the right thing no matter what.

And these people: They need to be bravely acting on their beliefs, not writing about them in a secret blog like me.

I've always thought it best to be a "fool of good heart," although I'd never thought of it in those specific terms before. I'm starting to have second thoughts now.

What do you think? Would being a "fool of good heart" ever really benefit anyone, or only get one into unnecessary trouble? Is it better to play it safe and avoid complications? Or should a person try to do the most good that they possibly can, even if there's a chance they'll get hurt or humiliated?

<3 o.

Sometimes You Gotta RUN

When I was in Junior High, and for a little bit of High School, I ran Cross Country. I really, really enjoyed it. I am not going to bother trying to explain the joy I got from running. I was not the best runner, but I was far from the worst. As in life, I guess you could say I was sort of the leader of the losers. :P One of my favorite parts of Cross Country was always being able to push myself. It wasn't a team sport, it was for individual improvement; I could push myself as hard as I wanted, and didn't have to limit myself to others.

The point being: I have always loved to run, and I have always pushed myself.

In school, and really in every part of my life, I always push myself to do my best. For myself, for others, whatever. It doesn't matter if someone is benefitting from it or if I just want to make someone proud or to impress them or prove that I am trying. I always am pushing myself. Academically, socially, emotionally, mentally, physically, always pushing. I get farther in some areas than in others.

I am afraid that it isn't getting me as far as I wanted, and I am getting tired. I am tired of pushing myself, but every time I slow down, I lose so much confidence. I think I have started to define myself a little by my efforts to always improve. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. Improvement is good, and improving is good, but taking a break every once in a while... that is reasonable, and I shouldn't get down on myself for needing it.

But yet I do.

I try to do too much. I am trying to fill too many roles.

Examples.

Senor wants to be with me. Han wants to be with me. I want to be with Han. But I want to be alone. I don't want to break up with Han, but everything is so hard. I want to be friends with Senor. But I don't want to be with Senor. I don't want to be with anyone. But didn't I just say a few sentences ago that I want to be with Han? I do want to be with Han. I love Han.

I am confused. I think I've been pushing myself so hard, that I no longer know what I want.

Except that: I have never wanted to run more than I do right now. Not on a track, and not on a trail. I just want to run, and run and run and run until I am too tired to run back.

<3 o.

So Unnaturally Myself... Or Naturally Not Myself?

Lately, I have cared less and less about me. And I don't mean that in the morbid, depressing, "I don't care about my life; I wish I would die; I'm so worthless" way. It is a little harder to explain.

I don't really know how.

Basically, I am not myself, but I like it.

All my life, I have been abrasive, somewhat anti-social, stubborn, and pretty selfish. I am not a people person by nature. But lately, I have become more and more drawn to people, in an interesting way. I believe I've mentioned before that I want to help people... lately I've wanted to badly to do that. Senor is one situation. I don't care how he feels about me. Does he have a crush on me? Does he not? I don't care. He needs help, he wants help, but he confesses that he doesn't feel valuable enough to ask for it. I want so desperately to help.

This goes so much against my "natural" personality. Yet, it's my instinctive desire, to help. Needless to say, I'm pretty confused.

Most of my life, I've been spiteful and sarcastic towards people. Now I'm suddenly trying to look at things from different angles and perspectives, trying to figure out if there are reasons they are behaving like that - I'm asking if they need help, in case they don't know how to ask for it. What is going on with me?!

Despite how completely insane and weird and totally unnaturally instinctive I'm being, I kind of like it. Even though a few people give me weird looks, my hugs are occasionally accepted, and I think that maybe I have made an impact on Senor's life - it may only be very small so far, because we haven't known each other very long, but I think I might have. Even though I have always claimed to "hate people," I think I might enjoy being loving.

Okay, there's no think about it. I know that I like it. I love it. I want to be like this forever. I want to be the person that people know they can come to when they have a problem and talk to or just get a hug or even just show up at their house late at night if something really bad happens. I know that it sounds totally dorky and maybe even unrealistic, but can you imagine what kind of person I would be? Loving, understanding, patient, helpful, peaceful, kind, generous, faithful, hopeful... basically all the qualities that I've always admired in other people.

Here's the main problem: I want to always be completely available to help anyone who needs it, and that is just not possible while I am dating Han. I love Han. I do. He has pieces of me that I don't want to separate from, and breaking up with him would tear me apart. But... he can be very possessive. I know he doesn't mean to be, but I don't foresee, and I can't even imagine, this working out. He does not like me spending excessive amounts of time with lots of other people; he starts to feel neglected, like I'm tired of him.

I don't want to leave Han. I love Han! But I can't ignore my unnatural instinct to help people. I'll be forever scared that, if I ignore an urge to help someone because of upsetting Han, someone will go on hurting because I limited myself too much to reach out to them.

I don't know what to do. Han would have to loosen the reins a bit for this to work - not just in time-spending, but physically, also. He'd have to be comfortable with me talking to other people.

I know this sounds like a totally weird thought process. What are you talking about, little o?

I'm not sure. I think my brain is going to explode from all the thoughts racing through it! Can anyone else make sense of this?!

<3>

p.s. : EDIT
Since this has been written, I've changed my mind. I want to be with Han now and always and I'd give up anything for that.

Drama Is Life With The Dull Bits Cut Out.

-Sir Alfred Joseph Hitchcock

And let me tell you, all of my dull bits have been cut out! I don't think my mind ever has a moment's peace.

I don't know if I even want to write about this. I know most people would find what I would write about to be insignificant, whiny, and overdramatic.

So let me remind you: Yes, it is dramatic. But that's life. And just because it's dramatic doesn't make the emotions any less real. So if you are prone to mocking those who become upset when put in complicated situations... stop reading now.

I love Han. Thankfully, he has lessened his attack on my friendship with Senor. Unfortunately, Senor has increased his feelings for me. I didn't think something like this would ever happen. It is a surreal, unlikely, and devastating situation. I merely want to be friends with Senor; he has had a miserable upbringing, and his home life is literally nonexistant. He is in need of a good friend and a good influence; I want to be that influence. A lot of people don't notice him, or if they do, it is not in a positive way. However,

Everyone has some light somewhere. And light is always worth fighting for.
-Fix-It God, Joan of Arcadia Season 1

Well, it didn't take long before I was pretty sure I'd found his "light." He's a sweet guy. He has his downfalls, but doesn't everyone? He is low on the criticism and heavy on the compliments. In the battle between good and evil, he would fight for good. He loves love.

Here's the problem. When you're the only person to see another person's light, they tend to think that you're something special for some reason. Newsflash: I'm not. But Senor thinks I am. He's completely fallen for me, and he doesn't really try to hide it. He's promised to try not to make things difficult for me, but I think he's pretty affection/attention-starved.

I don't want a romantic relationship with Senor. I don't know if I want a romantic relationship at all.

I love Han to pieces. I do. But right now, I feel like I'm being torn apart at the seams. I don't feel happy enough to be affectionate towards anyone, and that means I'm disappointing him greatly. We've been having problems for a few months, but it's hard to pinpoint exactly what they are. Honestly, I think these problems are me - I have been feeling so out of sorts. Nothing I do make sense. My actions and mood swings are beyond my normal level of bizarre.

To be completely honest, I would love nothing more right now than to hole myself up in my bedroom and never see or talk to anyone again for several months.

I can't explain this feeling.

The stress of Senor? Maybe. Although honestly, his crush doesn't bother me. He'll get over that in little to no time. What bothers me is knowing that his little crush is a disappointment waiting to happen.

The conflicts with Han? Perhaps. No one likes negativity - not really. But avoiding it would only make it worse. I would feel much better if we were able to talk it out and get it settled, and I know that.

So why the sudden aversion to people and to connections in general? Normally, I would be talking to Elsa about this - I am talking to her about right now - but I don't want to talk. I just want to think. By myself. All on my own.

Which was the point of this blog anyway, wasn't it?

I don't know. I'm so confused. I've always wanted to help people - I've always put the well-being of others ahead of my own, within reason, and sometimes without reason. That is not to say that I've never acted selfishly. But when given the chance to think it through, I will very, very rarely act for the good of me over someone else.

Suddenly, I just want to hide from everyone I care about. And who care about me. I just want to get away. I feel trapped by my connections. How can that be? They used to always make me feel safe.

<3 o.

Long Time, No See

Since the scholarship campaign has ended, I thought I might as well update.

A lot has been going on, I think.

Last night, I went to bed at 6 p.m., and I didn't get up until 6:30 the next morning. I wasn't even that tired.

I finished my essay over the media's effects on girls, and I recieved a 100% on my narrative essay.

I also have made a new friend in my Japanese class, whom I call Senor Raggamuffin Von Stalker Dude. I am not sure that I know his real name. He's tall and skinny and has long, curly-ish black hair that is dyed. I'm pretty sure that it is naturally brown - but I can understand the desire to dye brown hair. My hair is brown, and sometimes I feel so unexotic. Anyway. He's very, very nice, but seems to have some self-esteem problems, maybe even some that counter my own!

Unfortunately, Han is less than thrilled by this developement. He has been in and out of bad moods lately because he is jealous of my conversations with Senor during Japanese. I've talked to him about, and he says it's fine, he trusts me, and that if he can have girl friends, I should be allowed to have guy friends, but every time he sees Senor, he gets all... glares and pouts. I don't know what to do. Senor has few friends and is very kind, and it would be very unfair to neglect him when he's done nothing wrong, but I hate it when Han is unhappy.

Also, today I was talking to Senor in Japanese on the computer, and, technically, we weren't breaking any rules. We were being quiet, doing our work, and the site we were on wasn't blocked. Also, Mrs. Brink usually is very friendly and understanding, but today she threatened to write us both up (via writing across our screens from her teacher-station control computer thing). I would have understood it if we weren't working, but we were both doing what we were supposed to be doing. And did she really have to threaten us? Couldn't she have just been nice about it and asked us to please stop talking and focus more? If we'd broken any rules, it would be different, but we didn't.

Another unhappy instance.

I have this habit that if someone does something that really annoys me, I kind of swat at their face, like a pretend slap. But really, if you can imagine the force you might use to wave a fly away from your face, it is lighter than that. Generally, the tips of my fingers just barely brush their cheek, and it's kind of my way of saying, "Please stop, or I'll probably get really upset."

Another thing is, I hate, hate, hate hunting. I don't know why. I love meat, and I know there's nothing really wrong with hunting, but I hate it when people talk about it like it doesn't even matter that the animals were alive. Well, Han's, ex-friend, Jan, was talking about how much fun hunting was, and I said, "Oh, stop it!" and swatted at her face, as is my habit. Honestly, I barely touched her, if I touched her at all, because she leaned back. Well the next thing I know, she's running around telling people that I slapped her across the face and that she wants to punch me.

I have never really liked Jan before, but it's to the point now that if she weren't 2 or 3 times my size, I might really slap her. She'd deserve it. She's incredibly rude, and now there are rumors flying around that I'm slapping people, when I would never do something like that. I mean, maybe if someone attacked me or something, I'd probably hit them. That's different.

Anyway, the point is, I'm seriously ticked off. Han is having weirdo moodswings. I want to be friends with Senor. Mrs. Brink was nice, and now she's psycho (Something I'd like to talk more about later). Jan is making my high school life miserable. My headache meds aren't helping anymore - I still get headaches every day. I am sleeping even more than I used to. I can barely keep up with my role as Publicity Designer in Drama.

I'm pretty sure that my brain is going to implode from all the pressure being put on it.

Oh wait. One good thing: I won Most Artistic Senior Spotlight for girls. But, I have to share it with Tony. I don't like Tony. I think I've mentioned that before. I'd rather share it with Han; he's more creative than Tony is anyway.

I've missed you all. I hope I have the energy and will to update more. :]

I hope you are all doing lovely!

<3 o.

We Really Need The Votes

Elsa has entered a photo of me in a scholarship. It's a very good photo, especially considering that it's of me, and she could really use the scholarship.

The problem?

We need over 1000 votes by tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow as in October 3.

Photo Shoot Out 2 Brickfish

<3 o.

Apathetic Way To Be

For perhaps the first time in my life, I am not actively obsessing over something. Last night, I found Wicked on YouTube. I love and adore Wicked; I'm certain it's the best musical to ever be written. But after watching ten minutes of it (or less), I became bored and decided, "I'll watch it later." The same thing has happened when trying to read Les Miserables and The Phantom of the Opera (both of which I love). I passed up the opportunity to argue with someone about how good The Princess Bride is--and I love arguing and The Princess Bride.

This may be the reason I haven't updated for a while. Normally I'd update everytime something happens--with the play, my upcoming anniversary, music, friends, random thoughts. But every time I consider blogging, I think, "It doesn't matter." Then I go to sleep.

Speaking of sleep--I do a lot of it. I used to go to bed at one and get up at five-thirty, and I never suffered for it. I was still energetic and happy throughout the whole day, and in fact, hated going to sleep. Now I go to bed at ten and get up at six-thirty, and i'm still so tired that I sleep during third hour and after school. Over the weekend, I got almost twenty-two hours of sleep. That's a lot of sleep. I'm pretty sure it's more than healthy.

I want to blame it on my new medication, but I know I've been like this since this summer. The main problem is, it's getting worse.

I don't know if it's related to my energy and enthusiasm about other projects, but if it is, it isn't just affecting my enthusiasm for extra fun things. I feel no need or desire to work on or apply for scholarships or colleges--even though it's something I need to do. I promised Han that I'd help him study for the SAT, and every time we go to, I can't really focus because I don't really want to think about it. I want to do stuff with people, but I want to sleep and do nothing even more.

This is probably the least amount of fun I've had in a while.

I know this was a short and un-interesting post, but I figured that you few guys deserved and update.

<3 o.

A Variety Of Topics For This Post

Firstly, I want to apologize for not updating recently and for not being overly active (or really very active at all) in my commenting. I do read most posts within a day or two of them being posted.

Secondly: After a rather stressful chain of events this afternoon after school (which involved Han, a library, and oreos), I stormed out to my truck, entirely intent on either doing myself serious physical harm, throwing things until I was instituted, or refusing to move or speak for a week. You think I'm exaggerating, well I'm not. Fortunately, I fell asleep, and Han was there when I woke up. I will admit that part of my tantrum was due to the events of 7th hour (Drama), which I will relate to you momentarily. And part of it was the library situation. Most of it, though, was left over distress from school, which only managed to manifest itself into an expressible form about the time we were at the library...

And now: Today. It was horrid. First, my sister and I nearly got killed by a semi. He was going about 35-40 in a 60 zone, and I was coming up behind him at 60, so I switched lanes. Right after I switched lanes, he put on his turn signal and pulled into my lane in front me. Keep in mind that I am gaining on him this entire time. It was incredibly close, but I was able to get back into the other lane. But oh man, it scared the crap out of me. And then the rest of the day went okay (oh except that I forgot all my pencils and makeup at home... but Mom brought that to school for me) until 7th hour.

First I think I need to tell you: I was very disappointed in the choice of play that my class voted on. It is about an airplane full of people whose pilot is brainwashed by an alien who makes him crash land in the Bermuda Triangle, where they meet "natives" that are actually aliens who have come to stop the brainwashing alien. It is somewhat humorous, but has no plot or theme--and I need things to have a theme. If there is no theme, I don't see a purpose for it, and I am not interested in it. But after much deliberation, I decided I could cope with it. It would be fun and a good way to relax--and there's still the publicity crew.

Today I was told I'd be the head of the publicity crew. I was really happy--we're in charge of the posters, advertisements, programs, t-shirts, all that. I was really excited, because in the last few years I have been VERY disappointed in the t-shirts. I saw this as my opportunity to actually have a say in something and make sure it was good.

Yeah well nevermind that. Have I ever told you before how much I loathe Tony? I will someday. For now, all you need to know is that he's a jerk, he's not on the publicity crew, he punched me in the stomach in kindergarten, and he thinks he's hot artistic stuff because his grandpa can paint. So what does he do? He draws his own idea for t-shirt design or whatever, which consists of the following: the cover that came on the script (an island, a spaceship, and a plane) with a big alien's head behind it. Then he came over and was like, "Look what I drew." I'd have less of a problem with this if: A. It looked good, or B. He'd signed up for publicity crew. But he didn't sign up--meaning he should have stayed with his group and kept his ugly head out of mine. And in addition, everyone loved his really ugly, unoriginal design. I know it's hard to believe that everyone would love an ugly design, but it's true. So there went my hopes of having attractive t-shirts. And it's not only that--it's that those were my responsibility, not to mention my only chance to have any creative outlet, or any say-so at all, and it was totally snatched.

It seems to me like any time I want something, do something, or suggest something, it is either ignored or upstaged. Every time.

It is so very frustrating. I usually love entering Project eXcel with drawings and poetry, but I've never won, and now I'm not sure that I want to even try. I've been working for a little while on some illustrations for a scholarship--but judging by the reaction I get to my work and ideas from most people, I don't know if it's worth it. It's very discouraging, and I'm about sick of trying.

Another example, and no offense to Elsa: but in her yearbook class, the Photoshop instructor noticed that she was familiar with Photoshop and offered to let her teach a 1-hour class for $100. What the heck is that about? A. She only has and can use Photoshop because I gave it to her, and I did help her some. I'm certain she would have learned it on her own with all the tutorials online, but I did help, and I provided tutorial sites for her as well. B. I am better at Photoshop than her. I don't mean to sound like I am putting her down, because she is very good. However, I do have more experience, and have done a larger variety of things with it. I don't believe there is a single feature or tool on the program that I have not used or at least played with. and C. I have tried for forever to get a job at various establishments doing various things... and she gets this incredibly amazing job offer just like that? How is that even the beginning of fair in any way? And for once, I do not want to hear, "She's in a wheelchair, she should get some advantages!" Everyone totally underestimates her--she is perfectly capable of applying to jobs. I understand that there are fewer jobs for her to apply for, so it's good for to get some kind of experience. But on the other hand, there are all kinds of jobs for me to apply for--and I do, but it doesn't work. It is very difficult to get a job in town, and it's very difficult to get a job out of town because of gas--and the only vehicle at my disposal is a 14-mile-per-gallon truck that is highly unreliable. So, I've been working my freaking butt off trying to get a job. And that is just incredibly frustrating. I don't blame Elsa at all, but I have to say I am somewhere between outraged and insanly envious. Because it's again: I am gone completely unacknowledged. Completely.

I don't like to be ignored. I don't. I freaking hate it and it seems to be the story of my life. I can't possibly live up to Emily's reputation of perfection, can't win a single art contest (despite my friends' claims that I am "really good"), can't even get a job, and continue to go completely unobserved in any and all other areas--even when I am in charge.

I could just scream, if only my walls were thick enough for it to go unnoticed.

<3 o.

Alyss Returns To Wonderland: A Metaphor

I am reading a book right now called Seeing Redd by Frank Beddor.

It is a sequel to this book:

This storyline is the "true" story of Alice Liddell, the model / inspiration for Lewis Carroll's (Charles Dodgson's) book, Alice in Wonderland, and it's sequel, Alice Through the Looking Glass. It follows Alyss Heart, the princess of Wonderland, as she flees from Wonderland in order to escape her notorious aunt, Queen Red, and ends up in Victorian England, where she stays for thirteen years, adopted by the Liddell family. During this period of time, she meets Charles Dodgson, who writes a nonsense book about her claims of Wonderland. After her story is made a mockery of, she becomes convinced that Wonderland wasn't real and loses the ability to use her imagination. When she is finally returnd to Wonderland, the entire queendom is depending on Alyss--and her imagination--to free them from the tyranny of Queen Redd. But, if you'll recall, her imagination no longer worked.

Can you imagine what it must have been like for Alylss, returning to Wonderland, trying to conjure and control things with her imagination, and not being able to? Something that came so naturally, almost instinctively to her in the past, had turned into something she struggled with. When she was younger, she could make toys turn into fountains, make people grow feathers, and conjure up different foods, but after being in England for too long, she wasn't even able to make a fan appear.

I think that that is what I have been feeling like lately, especially when it comes to drawing and writing. I know I have already talked about both of these things, but it is so frustrating: I am trying and trying and trying so hard to draw and write, but nothing seems to happen. In comparison with drawings from a year or more ago, all of my drawings now look stiff and dull. My writing is voiceless and choppy. I try to remember how I drew and wrote before, but I don't remember trying to write or draw--I just did it. So why can't I 'just do it' now?

I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. There are very few things that don't make me want to write or draw, but all that happens when I try to do either is that I get very frustrated with myself. I don't understand why it's so hard all of a sudden.

<3 o.

Today In Music Theory...

There was a boy in the row in front of me making fun of a boy next to me. He wasn't being too loud, so I don't believe that the teacher could hear him, but I, being between the two, could hear everything. After several minutes of putting up with Front-Row Boy telling Next-To-Me Boy that he was going to kill him, that he was stupid, and verbally musing over the nature of Next-To-Me Boy's parents having sex, I'd pretty much had enough. So, as Front-Row Boy leaned over to hiss yet another insult at the clearly embarassed Next-To-Me Boy, I poked him in the throat with my pencil. Not hard at all, just enough to get his attention, like a tap on the shoulder... but pointier.

And before he'd finished his comment to Next-To-Me Boy, he turned and asked me what I did that for. And I told him I wanted him to shut up because no cares about how cool he thinks he is and I was sick of hearing him talk. "So you poked my neck?" he asked, trying to make the point that my actions had been totally random and had no way of solving the problem. "Would you have prefered it had been your eye?" was my response. He told me he would have prefered his arm, and I told him that that was too bad, because I didn't really care what he prefered, and in that light, next time, it would be his eye. His friend on the other side of the room giggled at this, and he didn't bother Next-To-Me Boy for the rest of the class.

But I don't know what I will do if I have to put up with him doing that another day. All Next-To-Me Boy does is listen to me and my friends, and occasionally try to join the conversation, which we have no problem with. He doesn't do anything to deserve the constant bullying he reserves from Front-Row Boy (and Gang). If it does indeed continue, I wouldn't be surprised at all if Front-Row Boy received a painful reminder that there's always someone cooler than him--or, at least bigger, stronger, and more merciless than him--from a certain Han.

I was thinking about the occurence this afternoon and I said something about it aloud to my parents and Han. Mom strongly disapproved, saying I was only contributing to bullying. Dad said that he, being a teacher, thought it was the right thing, and that I was merely showing Front-Row Boy that his actions had consequences, even if he wasn't "caught." Han just wanted to know his name and locker number so he could "talk to him." (Han isn't really a violent person, but he can be very intimidating. Okay, he was violent once, under an extreme circumstance, but I wasn't there.)

Anyhow, I'm glad that Dad at least sided with me. It didn't evolve into an argument, thankfully. Mom did say not to do it again, and while I think she has a point, if Front-Row Boy does it again, so will I.

This was just something that's been floating around in my brain. I decided to share it so that I could focus on other things a little better. I'd love to hear your comments on whether what I did was what I should have done.

<3 o.

I Won't Be Sleeping Much Tonight

There are a variety of things to speak of, all very briefly.

Firstly, I was very unimpressed with all of the options our Drama class was presented with to choose from for our semester play--so I wrote one. It's called "Saving Wonderland and How Alice Did It." I'm hopeless, I know. I had Han take it to Mrs. H--he simply told her that a girl in the hallway outside her room asked him to give it to her. She did not mention it during class, but neither did we pick a play.

It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, really. I know that there is no chance on Earth that it will be voted on, even if she does mention it to the class. I don't know why I did that, I will only end up looking stupid. I only hope she doesn't figure out that it was me.

Secondly, I hate school. I hate it more than I thought I would, more than I thought I possibly could. There is no real reason. I am just distressed throughout it, from beginning to end, counting the minutes until the end of each class--literally. I don't know how long I can handle this kind of torment. Really, most of my teachers are very nice, and none of them are mean, and there has not been an abundance of homework--so I don't know what to do. I don't know what the problem is, so I don't know how to go about fixing it.

Thirdly... I don't want to talk about tonight. I don't want to think about it. But because it has made me think so much, I will tell you what part of tonight has caused the thought. It is all you will know about what happened.

I don't know why, but I started screaming. And I just couldn't stop.

And now, I'm miserable. Literally. I'm exhausted, but I don't want to go to bed, because I know it will lead to thoughts of tonight, and I don't want to think about it. I don't know what conclusions I would draw if I did, and I don't want to know.

Lastly, I'm on a new medication, Prozac. I think that's the one with the depressed rock in their commercial... I'm supposedly taking it for headaches, but I believe it's also an anti-depressant, so if it could help at all with my stress/unhappiness, that would be great... of course, I thought that that would happen with the Celexa, and then I had some kind of allergic reaction.

I'm pretty sure this has been the worst first week of senior year that I could have possibly imagined for myself. No, actually, this is worse than I could have imagined. Because anything that I could have imagined, I did imagine, and so I was kind of mentally prepared. I was so not ready for this. Not only was I not prepared, but I don't even know what's wrong... and since I don't know the problem, I don't know how to fix it.

Goodnight, blogging community.

Sweet dreams.

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One of the Worst Friday Nights Ever. No, Really.

Exhibit A: When I went to Disneyworld, I spent a couple of days in Epcot. On the first day, I was heading back to our cabin/rooms to put something up and rest, because I hadn't slept well the night before. On my way towards the park exit, I saw a woman sitting by herself on a wall next to a garden. She had her head in hands, and I saw a few tears hitting the ground. In my opinion, no one should cry at Disneyworld, and I was almost certain that someone somewhere deserved to be punished for making her cry, but that wasn't my focus. I hung around that area for probably ten minutes trying to decide if I should do anything, or what I could do if I decided to. I eventually did ask her if she would be okay and if I could help her in any way. I will always wonder what happened to her. I wish I had been able to help her.

Exhibit B: Haleigh loves animals. She loves them so, so much. Not long ago, one our cats had caught a butterfly by the wings. Haleigh loves our cats, but she doesn't like to see anything in pain. She retrieved the butterfly from the cat's mouth as carefully as possible so as not to hurt it. I had huge holes in its wings from the cat's teeth, and I don't think it could ever possibly fly again, but Haleigh put it in some flowers out of the cat's reach anyway. She doesn't like to see any animal in pain. She is the main caretaker of our cats. She plays with them, feeds them, knows all their personalities and the differences between cats that seem otherwise identical. The only thing she won't do is give them medicine, because if they fight it or meow, she gets very upset and afraid that she will hurt them.

Exhibit C: I will not go into the nitty-gritty details, but I have an uncle who used to (and may still) grow, use, and deal illegal drugs. He sold these to my cousin, the son of a different uncle of mine, and he would get high in the basement while leaving his elementary-aged daughters upstairs by themselves. He's not a good person. He refuses to work, and so does his wife. He is thirty-some years old, and his entire life, my grandparents have payed for his food, clothing, water, electricity, taxes, housing, everything. He doesn't have his own money. He spends it on other drugs.

Exhibit D: Tonight was a Friday night. On most Friday nights, I go out with Han, because we don't see each other too much during the school days. Tonight, however, my parents went to help Emily with her house, and they were spending the night there. They asked me to stay home with my two younger sisters, Haleigh and Annalisa. I don't know if I have ever used a fake name for them before, but this is what I'm calling them now. They said I could go out Saturday night, so I said that was fine. I decided I could write a little, I could draw a little, get my room clean, relax... just take everything easy. It was going to be a good night.

But it was not to be. Because I get jumpy alone at night sometimes, Mom and Dad had Grandma and Grandpa come in and check on us, which is fine. But then, my cousin, the young daughter of my bum uncle, called my grandpa. My grandparents recently acquired a kitten, and she wanted it. Hers was sick, and her parents didn't have the money to take it to the vet. Grandma asked if she could have one of ours instead. She asked Haleigh this. Haleigh knows that their house is not a good place for a cat. We have kittens to spare, but we want them all to go to good homes, and Haleigh wants that more than any of us. In Exhibit C, I think I clarified that this does NOT qualify as a good home. So this was very, very awkward for her--she said she'd ask Mom and Dad and she came up to me to ask me what to do and see if she could call them. I could tell she was upset. She didn't want to tell Grandma and Grandpa, "No, we don't trust them to take good care of our cats, and we only give them to good homes," but there was no way she'd ever be able to let a kitten go to a home that would be unable to take care of it.

I call Mom and Dad, because I can tell she is too upset to do anything. I talk to them a little bit, told them that even though they don't mistreat their animals, they can't take care of them if they get sick or hurt, and pointed out that they have a habit of own multiple large, violent dogs at a time. They said that if we were really uncomfortable with letting them have a kitten, that was okay. Grandma eventually decided Zora could have her kitten.

Now, Haleigh was still kind of shaken from the stress of having to say "No" to Grandma, but she also felt bad--Grandma doesn't like animals very often, and she felt awful that Grandma was going to give her kitten up, and she also didn't like the idea of any kitten living there... Recall Exhibit B. Haleigh loves all animals, anything that is alive. She hates for them to be in pain.

After Grandma left, I tried to calm Haleigh down. She was upset about the kitten and felt guilty about Grandma giving hers away. She was doing okay. Her voice was a little shaky, and her eyes were moist, but she was doing okay. I suggested that she call Mom and Dad and give them an update, and told her that they would probably be able to help her feel better. So she did.

Ten minutes later, I walk into her room, and she is on the phone with Dad, in tears. And I am about to explode. Not only do I hate to see people cry, especially my little sisters, but I have spent over an hour trying to keep her calm, reassuring her that the kitten will probably be okay, and here she is, talking to Dad, whom we had relied upon to make things better, and it feels like all my efforts to calm her down have been wasted. Because now she is in tears. I felt so let down and betrayed--my parents are always saying to come to them with their problems, and here, we had, and things had only gotten worse.

So I probably over-reacted. That part doesn't matter that much. I got into it a little bit with Mom and Dad, but we smoothed it over.

But I cried. And Haleigh and Annalisa saw me. And I hated it. I can cry, surely. I can cry by myself, no problem. I can cry with my friends around. I can cry in front of my parents without too much problem. But crying in front of my little sisters--they're relying on me to be in charge, to be calm, to be able to handle whatever problem comes up. When I cried, I was not showing that I was going to be able to handle problems.

And Annalisa, who is ten, didn't know what to do. Both her older sisters were crying. I could tell she was confused. She just walked back and forth between our rooms, never looking at us, but obviously focusing on us. Now I will refer to Exhibit A, because she looked just how I felt when I was watching the lady crying in the park. Just wanting to do something, trying to think of something, not sure if she will be able to help. I felt so bad, and I felt like I had let her down. I know I always felt helpless and confused if I saw Emily cry... how must Annalisa have felt when she saw both of her older sisters crying?

So I felt let down by my parents, I felt stressed by Haleigh's distress, I felt as if I had let down my little sisters by crying when I should have been being an adult, and I feel disappointed in myself for not getting anything done. I also feel guilty that Grandma is giving away her kitten, and guilty that I got so angry at Dad when he wasn't being that mean. (At least, not as mean as he normally is.) There was not a single good emotion this entire night.

All in all, I would say this Friday night was a complete disappointment. Someone somewhere owes me a new Friday, I'm pretty sure.

<3 o.