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.

<3>

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.

The World is Made Up of Stories, Not Atoms.

-Muriel Rukeyser

Four years ago, I was fourteen. I was in Junior High, I believe... or possibly a freshman. And I thoroughly enjoyed The Phantom of the Opera--the book. I don't know if the new musical movie was out at the time, but I had become so intrigued by what I had heard of the story, that I decided to read the book. It was very difficult for me, and much that I didn't understand--but I loved it.

I loved it so much that I wrote a really lame fanfiction story that I don't really expect you to look at, but thought that I might provide for you in case you were curious. It was a sequel to The Phantom of the Opera, and it wasn't very good--I was fourteen, after all.

But it got a lot of really good reviews! I was so encouraged! I had a very elaborate plot worked out that I was proud of--meaning in all the weird things that happened. I think I even had an ending in mind.

Then I got one bad review. It was the longest one I had yet to recieve, and it was rather upsetting at the time. Soon afterwards, I had reviews that said not to worry about what that person said--develope the characters how I wanted to. It is my story, after all, and I am the one writing it. So I tried. I really did. But the sixth chapter just never did meet completion, and now it had most certainly been lost forever, since all our computers have certainly been reformatted since then--probably more than once--and I don't even remember which computer I was writing on.

But tonight, I felt this urge to write, and I was looking around on a few writing sites for some ideas, and one of them was fanfiction.net. I remembered that I had put something on there before, so I decided to go for a moonlit stroll down memory lane. I read all five chapters, and then I went back and read the reviews.

And I wished I could finish it. I wished that all the people who were online four years ago would be guaranteed to still be online... just like I wasn't. I wished I knew how I should end it. I wished I had not disappointed all those, "Please post the next chapter!"s and "I can't wait to see how it ends!"s.

And even more so, I wanted to write. I wanted to write so bad. I wanted to be able to pull an intriguing thought out of my head, and organize it into an intricate plot, and share it with anyone who would be willing to spare a few minutes. I wanted it. And I want it now.

Unfortunately, my brain feels so garbled right now. My head has hurt regularly, without fail, every night for several nights in a row now, and I am so stressed with school starting. I have never been more upset about the beginning of school.

I have started and worked on so many stories, but never to complete one. I've tried. I've mapped out chapters, done character designs, descriptions, and sketches. I've illustrated covers, drafted scenes, written prologues. I have worked so hard, but I just can't seem to accomplish anything substantial... I lose my momentum, I forget about, I lose my papers... and it's back to square one.

Always on square one.

<3 o.

Too Many Q's, Not Enough A's.

Inspired by a lovely, pensive post that can be found here, written by the amazing Elsa.

They teach you 1+1 and other mathematical phenomenons. They teach you for years how to form the perfect sentence in English, and then they start in on the Spanish. They teach you the names of the states and have you label a map. They teach you how to find the percent composition of magnesium oxide. They teach you how to draw and shade cones, spheres, and cubes. They might even teach you how to play the clarinet.

So is it any surprise that most seniors are so apprehensive about graduating? When did they ever really teach us anything that will help? We have other questions that need answering, other things we need to know!: Can you maintain relationships with friends that are hundreds of miles away? How do you balance more schoolwork than ever with a work schedule that you need to pay for it? Where do you find an affordable, but safe, house if you need one? Are there any food alternatives to ramen noodles? But most importantly, what comes next?

And thusly shall my little project be called: What Comes Next? I will come up with or find questions or confusions relating to school / graduating--questions that most people don't bother answering--hopefully averaging one question for every week or two. Because Elsa is what made me think of this, I expect her to help. (Oh ho ho, I bet you thought, "Oh I feel so wonderful, I inspired a series of posts, eehee!" Well I got news for you, sister! You have to WORK for that honor!)

I will only do this when I have time, and I will probably not spend too much effort deliberating over questions. If I come across a question or something comes to mind, I will seek out a solution, but don't expect me to be consistent. The answers I find will probably not matter to most people who read, so, more than an advice column, this will be more of an opportunity for me to try to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the challenges ahead.

SUBJECT CHANGE

Tomorrow is the first day of my Senior year of High School. It is the beginning of the end. And it is the end of naps as I have come to know them.

Tomorrow I will walk into an all-too-familiar building full of all-too-familiar people, and they will all see a none-too-familiar face.

Because today I got my my lovely, waist-length hair cut to shoulder-length, and I now have bright blue streaks throughout. Aside from the fact that I have wanted blue highlights for years, there is a kind of reason for this.

Everyone has their pre-determined idea of everyone else. I don't know everything that everyone thinks of me, but I do know this: Many, many people think of me as the perfect, straight-A student, who would never do anything that wasn't what I was told to do. I kind of want to break that stereotype. I do take pride in my grades, because I put a great deal of effort into them, and I do believe that there is a lot of good to be said for being conservative in certain areas. However, that doesn't mean that I am not fun-loving (which I am) and it doesn't mean that I won't make my own decisions (because I will).

My hope is that perhaps the shorter hair and the blue streaks will make people look twice, and maybe, if they look twice, they will think twice. Hopefully, some people will realize, "There is more to a person (me!) than I had known," and they will rethink some of their assumptions.

Of course, there will be those people who will just be encouraged in their thoughts that I am crazy, and that's okay. I kind of am. :]

<3 o.

On The Subject of Hattie and Marcy

Emily, my older sister (also known as Emmo), has a roommate who is also one of her friends. Her name, for the sake of this entry, is Marcy. Next door to their house, there is an elderly couple who owns a dog, some variation of a lab. They are unable to walk the dog, so Marcy walks it, and sometimes when she is walking the dog, Emily will go with her to keep her company and get some air herself. Well, Marcy is moving, and the couple was talking about who would walk the dog when she has moved. Emily had told them she would do it if they like, and they expressed their concern to Marcy about Emily being rather small. That is a reasonable concern, because our whole family is "rather small." Emily and I are both 4'11 to 5', but we have had dogs before, and Emily works out. But, Marcy's response wasn't, "Well, I think Emily could probably handle it, she has experience with dogs," or, "She does work out, though, so she's pretty strong for her size." No, what Marcy said was, "Well, sometimes when Emily goes out with us, I let her try to walk the dog."

"Like I'm ten or something," Emily said to Mom later when relating this story.

Marcy's habits of doing and saying things like this to belittle Emily reminds me of my friend Hattie, who behaves similarly (though it took me a few years to realize it).

Hattie was my best friend from second grade through the beginning of high school. Probably in Junior High, we starting having some harsher quarrels than in the past, but in High School, her behavior at times was infuriating. It escalated from telling me I couldn't sing in fourth grade (which I found out about a year ago, isn't necessarily true) to getting really angry if I didn't want to walk to band with her in Junior High to telling me she couldn't go to the Relay For Life with me because she had work the next day during Sophomore year (oh but, by the way, she could go to the midnight showing of Spiderman 3).

I find it somewhat ironic that both Emily and I had/have close friends that have a rather strong reputation of trying to belittle or discourage us. Both Marcy and Hattie will take almost any situation to make themselves look as good as they can... or at least better than Emily or I, often in the form of making us look incompetent, unintelligent, foolish, selfish, ignorant, or weak.

Sometimes I wonder what would have been different about my childhood if I hadn't spent so much time with Hattie. For instance, would I have felt differently about my height? She always called me Shortie in elementary school. Would I have done more summer musicals at the Community Theater? She was always telling me I couldn't sing. Would I have made more friends? She was constantly complaining about or making fun of other people when they weren't around.

I don't want Hattie to sound like a complete monster. She had her good times. She has a good sense of humor and was usually encouraging about my drawing. It's just that as we got older, she seemed to get less and less encouraging and more and more belittling, to the point that, like on the night of Relay For Life, she just came across of flat-out rude and inconsiderate.

It's not really a big deal anymore. We don't hang out very much now, and she's been rather upstaged by Elsa's somewhat sweeter personality. Hattie will occasionally call and try to make plans, but between Han and Elsa, I'm nearly always booked.

I could go into more detail about how Hattie can be frustrating to be around, but I feel I've been negative enough for the day. I was thinking about it because of what has been happening with Emily and Marcy, and how interesting it was that both our friends do that. I wonder if it is them or if it is us?

<3 o.

If It's Not Broken, Don't Fix It

That's what somebody ought to tell them.

Tim Burton is making a new movie--an Alice in Wonderland movie. Now, I like Tim Burton, I think his movies are very good in many aspects, and he has made a few of my favorite movies, but I don't think he has any business messing with Alice.

Because, let's face it, Tim Burton's work is dark. And it's creepy. It is dark and creepy, and Alice in Wonderland is a children's book. Okay, sure, Lewis Carroll was on drugs while he wrote it--but the book isn't about drugs. One of my main concerns is that he will forget that and focus on the acid-tripping aspect.

Alice in Wonderland has already been made into some very good movies. The Disney cartoon is sweet, charming, and innocent. The atmosphere is light and fun, and it's a very good children's film. My favorite Alice film, the 1985 Alice in Wonderland, is just phenomenal. The songs and music are exquisite, and the cast that they got together for that is just miraculous. I don't think the odds of another cast like that being put together again is very good. Included in this cast were Red Buttons, Sammy Davis Jr., Martha Rave, Imogene Coca, Telly Savalas, Jayne Meadows, Ringo Starr, John Stamos, Steve Allen, and Jonathan Winters... to name a very small amount.

Both of these Alice videos are classic masterpieces, and there is absolutely no need for a new Alice take. Maybe I would be more open to it if Tim Burton didn't have such a record for dark, morbid films... and if the girl cast to be Alice wasn't 18 (Mia Wasikowska). The only hope I am holding onto is that I believe Disney is involved somewhat, and the scriptwriter is the same as the scriptwriter for The Lion King.

I just don't understand why we need a new Alice in Wonderland film. The already existing movies are all so wonderful and classic, nothing now will be able to do them justice. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which Tim Burton also directed, was good--however, it was still darker than the book, and I don't think it was as good as it could have been. For a Roald Dahl book, it was good--but I love Alice. I don't want anyone to hurt that story.

I could go further in-depth into the whole "Carroll was on drugs, Carroll was a pedophile" thing in corrolation to how Tim Burton will make the film, but here's it: I don't care that he was on drugs, it is still a good children's story, and it isn't actually about drugs, so whatever. I don't believe that he was a pedophile, he took children's portraits, and some of them were nude--always with the parents presence, and before it was considered immoral by society. I don't want Tim Burton to make this film, because I think Alice is a perfect children's story with already fantastic renditions in existence, and Tim Burton isn't exactly known for his charming children's work--and the fact that an 18-year-old is playing Alice isn't exactly reassuring me any.

Alice in Wonderland isn't broken, and Tim Burton doesn't need to try to fix it.

<3 o.

Dear Mr. Sandefer,

As you have probably not been informed, my locker is no longer next to your classroom. Surprisingly, this is by far the largest disappointment of my senior year. My locker was terribly convenient, since it was on the end, but that was the least of its mighty virtue. The greatest thing about my locker was that you, being one of the friendliest teachers, said good morning to me every day and asked how I was doing. Out of politeness, of course, but if I am not next to your classroom, no one will tell me good morning, and no one will ask how I am. And I really enjoy being told good morning!

The "good morning" exchange is just one thing I will miss. Being no longer in your class, I will miss our occasional little arguments--Me complaining about the government, and you trying to convince me that it's all the best it can be. I know you're right, and I knew it when we argued. However, sometimes I just enjoy being negative, and in addition, it was a good way to get to know you better.

You are a very difficult teacher to get to know. You are caring and polite, but at the same time, not very personal. (I assume you are like that because the last chemistry teacher we had eloped with a student and moved to Kentucky.) However, you were the best science teacher I'd had since Junior High, and one of the best teachers I've had ever, and so I wanted to know a little more about you. What I said about teacher's pay and how I feel about it is true--one of the few things I said during our arguments that I think actually deserves some attention. However, I am glad that you became a teacher.

I think you are an exquisite teacher. As with any teacher who tries to teach, there are students who think that you are too demanding, but you are one of those great teachers who really wants the students to know what you are trying to tell them. If you expect a lot from your students, you are also willing to help them meet your standards in whatever way. I remember the day when you were so sick, and it was obvious that you felt horrible, but you stayed at school when you easily could have (and probably should have) gone home, because you wanted to get all of the classes caught up.

But this is just the beginning of how you struck me as an amazing person! I believe you talked about your wife two times during the year I was in your class, and each time, you expressed such admiration for her. It was the sweetest thing, Mr. Sandefer. I always wished you would talk about her more often, because one doesn't see a husband talk that way about his wife as often as one should. I hope that, when I get married, my husband talks that way about me.

As I draw this little letter to a close, there is just one thing left to say: I just remembered that I have a friend, Elsa, who is taking chemistry this year, and it is possible that I will accompany her either to or from that class. If this is the case, I hope you tell me "good morning" when I get there! Or at least "hello".

<3 o.

p.s. : I am sorry for any times I fell asleep in your class. It is nothing to do with you--Sometimes I am just exhausted and can't help myself. I tried hard to stay awake, and I think you probably noticed that I was fighting it, and that's why you usually gave me a few minutes before making me wake up. Thank you for those few minutes. :)

Love Me Never Leave Me

is an excellent book written by Marilyn Meberg. I am not even half-way through it, and it has already helped me in a big way.

I purchased this book at a Women of Faith conference just a couple of days ago. There were so many books that I was interested in, but this one just didn't seem to want to leave me alone, and it came along at just the right time.

I posted recently about my constant tears, fears, and the like. Well, I have been thinking about that, the first half in particular, quite a bit, and amidst all of this thinking, I have had a few thoughts.

One is that, I'm really not ugly. I may not be gorgeous, but I'm not ugly. And if I cry or shudder when I look in the mirror, it's not because I am ugly, it is because I am not pretty--at least, I am not the kind of pretty that is admired by the world.

So I think that the source of this insecurity is not in my appearance, because there's really nothing wrong with my appearance. I think the source of this is more that I would like for others to acknowledge my worth. If I want my appearance to be different, it is so that others will notice me, acknowledge me, and thus, acknowledge that I have value.

I also think that this is a desire that goes much farther than my longing to be "pretty." For instance, when I cried as a result of AOK's remarks about a movie character, it was not because the girl was prettier than me, exactly. It was that this girl was getting attention and admiration for her appearance, which was unlike mine--which meant that I was unworthy of that kind of attention or admiration. And if I am unworthy of this kind of admiration, and there are other girls who are worthy of it, then what is to stop Han from spending his time and thoughts on those girls over me?

Now you are probably thinking, "Hold up, o, I thought we were talking about your insecurity, and now you're talking about Han?" Yes. Han does not make me insecure, that is for sure, but my fear of him leaving is a very fertile place for insecurity to take root. That is what is has done, and it has flourished.

I knew both these things before reading Love Me Never Leave Me: I was highly insecure and I did not want Han to ever leave me. What I had not quite realized was that those two feelings were so closely connected.

Love Me Never Leave Me is a book about abandonment, but not just abandonment like being left on an orphanage doorstep. Marilyn, who has two master's degrees and a private counseling practice, goes into great detail about emotional abandonment and the fear of abandonment. She says that nearly everyone copes with abandonment issues in some way, even if it's subconcious, even if it's emotional, even if it's just the fear of abandoment, and that some struggle with it more than others. I think she is right. I can't explain it the way she can, so you should just go buy the book and read it.

So at around probably midnight or a little later last night, I've figured out that my insecurity is some form of an "abandonment issue", because it stems largely from my fear of being left by Han. And then I read this part of Marilyn's book, an account of how she felt after stealing communion crackers from her church's kitchen:

I didn't know it then, but I was suffering from shame. I feared that somehow I had so deeply offended God that I was not worthy of forgiveness. Surely only an unworthy pagan would steal symbols of Him. And if God wouldn't, or couldn't, forgive me, then He would surely reject me. He would abandon me, and I'd get left with all the other worthless sinners who had offended Him so mightily that He cast them away from His presence, never to be allowed readmittance.

And I thought, "Wow. I feel like that all the time." Fortunately, Marilyn's book is also full of scripture that reassures of us God's faith, love, and forgiveness. Thank God for Marilyn Meberg.

Anyway, I started thinking again, because I need the practice, and I was thinking about a time recently when I was crying, specifically for the fear of Han leaving me. One of the weirdest things about that night was that Han was with me (I don't usually cry in the presence of others). So I gave a great amount of thought to his reaction.

He was half upset, because he hates it when I am sad, and he hates it even more when I cry. But he was also half amused, because he sees my fears of him breaking up with me as unfounded and silly. He kept saying, "Honey, I'm not going to leave you, I love you. I've already told you that I won't break up with you, you don't need to worry about it."

I wonder if that's what God is doing when I fret and cry for the shame that Marilyn wrote about. So often, when I am miserable for that kind of shame, I envision God ignoring me... abandonment. But if God is who he says he is, then I had it all wrong, and that is not what would he would be doing at all. He would be more like what Han was doing, hugging me and, half-laughing, reminding me of things like Isaiah 41: 9 ("I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you. I said, 'You are my servant'; I have chosen you and have not rejected you.") and 1 John 1:9 ("If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.") I know now that that is what he is really doing, and I think it will bring me so much peace in the nights to come.

<3 o.

p.s. : I highly recommend this book for anyone who does or does not think they have abandonment issues. Marilyn is a clever and witty writer, who knows how to incorporate just the right doses of humor with moving and influencial writing.

Are You Calling Me Irrational?

Because I'll tear your head off, Daniel! I'm gonna tear it off, and I'm gonna... throw it over that fence!

-Kim from Freaks and Geeks

When writing in my blog, I often try to restrain myself from sounding too whiney or irrational, because I don't want to come off like that to anyone who will read it. It is a good practice, because when I try not to seem whiney or irrational, I actually think things through better, and I think that will make me less selfish and narrow-minded in my day-to-day life.

I have to remember, though, that I am not writing in this blog for the sake of others, I am writing it for me. If my main focus is to impress anyone who reads this, then I probably will not be able to fully benefit from my blog.

So, at the risk of once again sounding whiney and irrational (though not quite as whiney or irrational as in my post 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight? Oh Wait... No'), I am going to write exactly what I have been thinking, so that I can get it out of my system.

Let's talk about Elsa. Elsa has every reason in the world to be unhappy. If I had limited mobility or had to be dependent upon others, I would be unhappy all the time. It seems so difficult for her to make good friends, maybe because they feel awkward around her, or maybe because it is difficult to find people who can offer the extra help she will sometimes need, I don't know. It just seems that with nearly everything she has to do, there is a challenge involved... but she is still content a lot of the time. She has somehow been able to accept and move on. I've said that before, I know. I'm not done.

Elsa gets unhappy sometimes, like anyone else, often depending upon different things that are going on. She is miserable on occasion. (To me, unhappy is emotionally upset and miserable is crying.) I know those little facts about her because I asked. So why is it that Elsa, who has pretty much every right to be angry at the world, can be content, and I, who have almost no right to be angry at anything, can barely go a day without tears?

Am I really that unreasonable? A lot of times, my misery will stem from something relatively small. For example, today:

I am visiting Han at the hospital, and his friend, AOK, and his girlfriend, Tina, come in to see him also. While I am there, AOK starts randomly talking about some barely-clothed character in a movie, how hot she was, blahblahblah. I don't know about other people, but to me, that's just... really rude. And kind of insulting. It makes me very unhappy to know that Han's friend is willing to just sit there and talk about other women with both their girlfriends sitting right there... I mean, I understand that boys will be boys, and they have thoughts and whatever, but it would be nice if they could try to limit their fantasies about other women... or at least keep them to themselves?

Moving on, Tina didn't seem really bothered by it. Okay, so she's used to it, or she's sure enough of herself that it doesn't concern her. Not so much with me. It was a little occurrence, but it has just gnawed and gnawed at me for hours. It was like being pecked to death by ducks. It grew from annoyance with AOK to embarrassment of my appearance to insecurity about my ability to meet others' standards to distress about all three. So, in the end, I was in tears for probably an hour because Han's friend made a few remarks without really thinking (which he does a lot).

Can that possibly be normal? I have this feeling it isn't... but if it isn't, is it my fault? I know that I shouldn't be so sensitive/insecure, but it's not like I try to be. In fact, more often than not, I try not to be. It doesn't seem to be something I can help...

But, little o, everyone gets insecure, even to the point of tears, at times! Well, yeah, but where is the demarcation for unnaturally insecure? Depending on circumstances, I would not be surprised for some people to be so miserable, let's say, once or twice a month. And in certain cases, maybe if there is a specific long-lasting insecurity, I would think crying once a week would probably be reasonable. What kind of criteria would have to be met for someone to cry every day or every other day? I don't like to think of myself as self-centered, but I can't think of many other explanations.

I don't think I can be that self-centered. I mean... that doesn't even make sense. I care about people. I want to help people. Self-centered people don't care about or want to help people. Not really. And I actually make a conscious effort to not be self-centered.

Okay not really. Okay maybe. I don't know. Define 'mental illness.'

Bottom line: Something is so not right. I don't care if it's normal or not, crying six nights of the week over various insecurities and/or fears is just not right. I really hate it when people talk about their problems as if no one else has problems, and I'm afraid that that's what I just did. I just don't get it. I really don't understand why things get to me so easily... It's so easy for me to get upset, it's not even always other people.

It's like a nightmare. Except for the part where you wake up and it's all over.
-Adrian Monk from Monk

No, seriously. You know those nightmares where, when you wake up, you're still half in it, and you're kind of half-panicked because you haven't really acknowledged that you were asleep when it happened? Sometimes, I kind of get stuck there. One time, I had a dream that someone killed my dog, and I woke up crying over my dead dog, and it took me several minutes to remember that I don't have a dog. But... I do that a lot, and more often than not, I'm not even asleep when it happens. I just randomly have these horrifying nightmares, but while I'm awake. Someone is breaking into my room and he has a knife, Han cheated on me, I just recieved a phone call that my parents died in a car crash. Whatever it is, it's like I'm having the nightmare, but I'm not asleep... which makes it very difficult for me to wake up and acknowledge that I was asleep when it happened, because, um, I wasn't.

It's very confusing and very distressing. It is sometimes very hard to convince myself that whatever it was wasn't real. I have called Han at 2 o'clock in the morning and I sneak into my parents' and little sisters' rooms to make sure that it wasn't real sometimes. I have to, or else I just sit on my bed trying to remember if it really happened.

So the nightmare thing is a lot different from my oversensitive insecurities thing, but they are both big contributors to my constant misery, and I don't know what to do about either of them.

I don't really expect a response to this, mostly because it was entirely for my own benefit, but I also can't really imagine how anyone would respond to it. ^^; Have a lovely evening!

<3>

p.s. : Both images are from postsecret, which can be found under my Things You Should Click On list.

On To Square Two!

The list of things that need to get done just grows and grows and grows... even during the summer! It seems that every time I accomplish something, there is a new thing (or two) waiting to take it's place. For example...

Accomplishment: I finally arrange a time to take senior pictures.
Setback: It rains.

Accomplishment: I get my bed moved. (No easy feat, since it was on top of 5' shelves and bolted to the wall.)
Setback: Han goes to the E.R. for the infection in his leg and has to stay overnight and get surgery.

Accomplishment: I arrange another time to take senior pictures.
Setback: I remember that I promised Grandma I'd go on this church trip with her... on the date I wanted to take senior pictures.

But! I think I have finally made an accomplishment with no setback! Tonight, I finally finished the angel drawing for the contest at a nearby cafe. It is due tomorrow, so I am just in time! Here it is.

( Details of her upper half, part of her wings, her harp, her face, and her ribbon/sash can be found here. )

The photography is really bad. My batteries were dying and also the light was not too good. I adjusted the brightness in photoshop because, even with the flash, everything looked gray. The only thing I might change is her mouth, and of course, I still have to sign it.

Also tomorrow, I will get my class schedule and (hopefully) Han's and Elsa's as well, which means that (hopefully) we can synchronize any inconsistencies... like lunch. It may be a little bit too optimistic to think that we can work out all the scheduling conflicts in one day, but I am going to ignore that for the time being. If all goes well, we will get it sorted out, and then I will have accomplished at least two things by the end of tomorrow! Hurrah!

...I'm certain I had more to say... but there is a really big bug over there, and it is totally distracting... See? There is always a setback... anything from hospital stays to really big cricket-things.

What square are you on?

<3>

Dream No Small Dreams

...for they have no power to move the hearts of men.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

# 1
I don't know if there is anything that would be more fun that working in Disneyland. Being a character, especially Alice, would be a dream come true, but even working with the entertainment and theater, character design, visual developement, or as a photographer would do the trick. It would be perfect if, during college, when I am apart from my friends, I could take a summer to go with Elsa and Han to live in California and work in Disneyland. And why not? Save up for a year or two, get a van or a truck, and rent a house. We can build ramps for Elsa, and if she's uncomfortable with us helping her with personal things, we can always hire a nurse (provided that we either save up enough or our parents would be willing to chip in). The hardest part, I think, would be guaranteeing ourselves a job in Disneyland. There are college programs, though, and we could always take advantage of that.

# 2
I would like a career that revolves largely around children and teenagers, possibly with some involvement in art as well. As far as children go, I wouldn't mind being a social case worker... I know that they are often fought against and disliked for taking children out of their homes, but I have seen too many children left in homes that were unsuitable, and someone has to do it. Pain that is inflicted on children is my least favorite kind, because children are so unable to defend themselves against it. I also would "enjoy" doing therapy with children from abusive homes, troubled youth, or people with personality/emotional disorders. Particularly when it comes to teenagers, my heart breaks for those who have such a loss of hope as to attempt suicide. I have a strangely strong desire to prevent it. As for the art, I think it would be great to do art therapy, or even make advances in that field (as it is fairly new), but if not, then I'll just do it on the side.

# 3
How long have I wanted to write a book? Several years. Writing seems to come naturally to me, based on teachers' comments and how easy it is for me to come up with stories. The real challenge is completing anything. Someday, I will write a book, maybe more than one. I can only hope that it will be good enough to be well-known and well-liked.

# 4
Of all the hurting people that I can think of, my heart goes out to two kinds in particular: Depressed teenagers (See # 2) and enslaved women and children. For a while now I have desperately wanted to go on some kind of trip to help somehow with the slave trade issue. I don't know how one goes about actually getting people out of slavery, but I would be much, much more than happy to help freed slaves develope the skills they need to build a life for themselves, whether it means reading/writing or an art form. I don't know if I can think of any other experience that sounds that gratifying.

# 5
I don't know how I feel about actually giving birth to a child. I am not very big and I am somewhat weak, but I still desperately want children, and I think that with my feelings for children born into bad environments, adoption seems like a good plan. I want to design and build a large house with my husband, with a really nice garden (on the roof, maybe?) and provide a good environment for children. I am scared half to death with the idea of not being able to raise a daughter or son correctly (a.k.a., my daughter sleeps around or my son is abusive), but I am too thrilled with the idea of providing a happy childhood to a child who would not have normally had one to let that hinder me... too much.

# 6
If there is ever a cure found for Elsa's condition, I'll be the first to help pay for it. And, as unlikely as it would ever be, if I ever find myself in the position to fund a large amount of research, it will be for her. I certainly can't imagine myself in her position, I'd be spiteful half the time and catatonic the other half, and it must be very difficult for her to keep cheerful sometimes.

# 7
To me, this seems more far-fetched than the last one, but I would really like to be known, at least a little, for my art. I don't know how one would go about doing that, but I can only hope that I will figure that out, as well as find the time and concentration to finish my "art" more often.

# 8
I want a big, beautiful wedding to share with the most perfect man ever. *coughHancough* It will be the most beautiful wedding that anyone has ever seen. The music will be perfect, the atmosphere will be perfect, the decor will be pure, elegant, and still unique. It's my only chance for a fairy tale, and I intend for it to be one. I'll design my own dress (and I will be a princess), I'll have a beautiful ice cream cake (complete with roses), and my ring will be simple, but graceful, with one (very, very shiny) diamond. Everything will just be... perfect. (Beware to anyone who tries to mess it up...)

<3 o.

Down the Rabbit-Hole: The Slump of the Century

I cannot focus these last few days. I mostly walk around the house deciding to do various things, and then I spend approximately 30 seconds on each activity before I become bored or confused. A few nights ago, I actually forgot how to walk up the stairs mid-step. I paused with my foot in air, and all I could think was, "Where is the next step? I don't remember where the step is." I have been getting frustrated much more easily than normal, partially because I can't focus on one thing at at time and I get overwhelmed so quickly.

The only thing that has been able to hold my attention is Alice in Wonderland. Most people know that I constantly find myself wrapped up in "enthusiasms." It's no secret that I frequently become obsessed with different things, but Alice in Wonderland is the one that I seem to return to over and over again... I don't believe I shall ever become bored with Alice.

Everything to do with Alice in Wonderland, I love. In addition to the original books by Lewis Carroll (which I am currently reading), I am also enchanted with the Looking Glass Wars (which I shall read again soon). I have yet to see all the Alice in Wonderland movies (there are so many!), but my favorite thus far is the live action one made in 1985--It stays so true to the books, and the music is just phenomenal!

This recent bout of Wonderlove (a word I just made up) was inspired mostly by eatting breakfast with Alice and Mad Hatter in Disneyworld. However, this not only re-opened my love for Alice and Wonderland, it also introduced to me two new concepts:

1. The Mad Hatter is the most fantastic person in the entire world.

2. Alice in Wonderland isn't just a fantastic fantasy... It is actually within the realm of reality.

After meeting Alice and the Mad Hatter, I couldn't drop it. YouTube aided me in finding various videos of the two characters, mostly in Disneyland, and for the first time, it is possible that one of my enthusiasms could actually pervade my life in reality. Alice and Mad Hatter exist in Disneyland--I could exist in Disneyland as Alice. That is not beyond possibility.

Every since I first saw the 1985 Alice in Wonderland, I have wanted desperately to be Alice. Having tea with an insane hat-maker and dancing with white knights in a dark wood seemed delightful pasttimes to me. And now they seem all the more delightful, just by the sheer possibility of their actual occurrence.

On this note, I would also absolutely adore an Alice costume, as well as a Mad Hatter's hat.

Now, did anyone else see that? I have been trying for so very long to come up with something to write about, and as soon as I got onto the subject of Wonderland, I had little to no problem with staying on topic.

There is more I have to say, on a slightly different, but not altogether unrelated topic, but I will save it for later. Possibly later tonight.

<3>
p.s. : Here are two of my favorite Alice and Mad Hatter videos.

Can You Feel The Love Tonight? Oh Wait... No.

It may very well be that nothing I am about ready to type will be worth reading, but Han is sick and Elsa has someone else over, and besides that, talking on the phone may result in being overheard, which would only result in wasted tears, sore throats, and mass chaos.

Dad is driving me freaking nuts. Seriously, he won't shut up. Ever since we got back from vacation, everything is negativity, negativity, negativity. And yeah, okay, I bet I provoked him some, but how can I help myself when he's acting like such a jerk? Only a couple of months ago he was saying that Clara (the bunny) wasn't being played with enough and that I needed to play with her more, and now he wants to put her in the garage? Why doesn't he just skin her and put in a pie? If we put her out there, it's a recipe for sickness and/or death. Bugs and cats get in there and it gets too cold during autumn and winter for her to not freeze to death. And it's not just that, it's everything he's said lately.

He's renovating my two younger sisters' rooms because they haven't been redone since we moved into this house, which is reasonable. I had mine redone a few years ago for my birthday. In addition, Dad's friend's father died a while ago and he left some furniture to my family. Now, in speaking of redoing the two bedrooms, Dad kept talking about "being fair to all three children", but he wants to not only completely re-paint and re-curtain and re-whatever their rooms, he wants to give one of them the furniture, too, which wouldn't be that big a deal except that I love the furniture, and how is that even "fair to all three children"? Okay, I had my room re-painted and everything a few years ago too... but as a birthday present. They are getting theirs redone just... so they can have theirs redone. But somehow, me wanting the old furniture that means nothing to anyone else is such a selfish thing that I deserve to be yelled at and chided for about an hour. I don't get that. I just don't get that. And THEN they said, "Well if you get the furniture, you have to give one of the other girls your room." What? Does someone need to review the definition of fair? Because I really don't see the fairness in that... or how putting my rabbit in the garage or the basement could even possibly be a good idea.

Call me crazy, but I am finding it very hard to believe that either of my parents care about me half as much as any of my sisters. I guess that of the four of us, I would be the "troublemaker", probably the more smart-alecky, rebellious one... but if they didn't bait me so much or completely ignore how I felt, maybe I wouldn't be so angry at them. It's like neither one of them care at all about all the effort I put into school to keep them happy or how admirable it is that I take initiative to do things like church and cleaning on my own (more church than cleaning I guess), and I don't think either of them acknowledge how hard it is for me to sometimes resist such common things as foul language, alcohol, or casual sexual...whatever.

Dad said that the older of my younger sisters deserved the furniture more because she has such low self esteem and not very many friends and it would really help her feel special and all I could think was, "Does this guy really think I have good self esteem? Has he not noticed that aside from Han, I have about 1 and a half friends?" It feels like my feelings are hardly taken into account, if they are at all. Is it any curiousity that I get snappy during conversations like that? Dad really likes the phrase, "I'm the parent, I'm in charge."

Well I'm the incredibly sensitive, distraught, somewhat emotionally-neglected daughter, so it'd be really appreciated if he'd shut up for like thirty seconds and take into consideration that I really am old enough to move out when I want. How seriously I would consider doing that would depend on any job that I get and how stressful school is once it starts. But let's look at it this way: If I move out, they will not help pay for college. However, I don't plan on going to an expensive college, and they weren't going to pay for all of it, probably only about four thousand a year. Which is a lot, but with the right job, I could pull it off. And even if I couldn't work enough during high school to pay rent at an apartment, as well as for food, Clara, and a car, which I guess it's pretty likely I couldn't, Han's family likes me and they have an extra bed. That would tick off Mom and Dad, but hey, if I'm not living with them and they aren't helping with college anyway, I really don't care. I could sleep in their spare room, pay for my own food and for Clara, and Han and I could both make insurance payments on the blue car. Sounds like a plan to me. More than likely a plan that I will never execute... but let's wait until I get a steady job to decide for sure.

I guess I've talked mostly about Dad so far. Mom hasn't really done anything except that she doesn't really seem to care how any of this makes me feel and she's not being all that objective. She always gets really angry if I say anything against Dad. Love is blind, I guess. I'm less angry at Mom than at Dad, for sure. If I accuse Mom of being uncaring, she is hurt, and I feel bad, because I know I was wrong. If I accuse Dad of not caring, he just gets angry... which pretty much just tells me that I was right. Still, back to Mom, I'm all about that phrase that if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, and if Mom's not going to try to help me at all, then she's only making it worse.

I'd really like to just not leave my room all day tomorrow. Maybe I'll take some cereal and a pitcher of water upstairs tonight and lock my door tomorrow morning.

Except I really like using the computer.

I am just so angry right now. Like I said, probably this was not worth taking the time to read, but I was really more considered with keeping my brain between my ears than entertaining anyone.

I wish Han wasn't sick. I also wish that I cared about my parents as much as they seem to care about me. That is to say, hardly at all at the time being. Then I wouldn't feel bad about moving out. I really don't want to be here. At all. I wish I had a friend's house that I could just go to whenever I was having a bad time at home, but, oh wait... I don't. And besides that, I don't have a car. Emily got a car when she turned 16... but when I turned 16, Mom and Dad bought a new car... for them.

Mom and Dad are good people. But I am really just not feeling the fairness or the love right now.

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Nobody Wants To Be Thought Of As Perfect.

It's not a compliment.
-Dad

People, despite desperately wanting to be perfect... don't like perfect people. And people don't like to be considered perfect, either. At least not usually.

People that are considered perfect are annoying. Even though they aren't really perfect, they are better than us, and whether they acknowledge it or not, it's a problem. If they act as though they are better than us, we consider them show-offs or goody-two-shoes. If they don't, we think they are inappreciative or, for some reason, patronizing.

For people who aren't perfect, which is really everybody, it is really a pain when others think that you are perfect. Your own problems are ignored and laughed at because, hey, you don't have any problems! In fact, people that are considered perfect have problems, and they are magnified when people refuse to acknowledge them. If you can think of a time when you needed help with something and recieved it, can you imagine what it would have been like to be laughed at or disregarded instead of getting the help? It's a very painful thing.

So why do so many people seem obsessed with being perfect? I'll admit that I do it, too. But what is so enviable about "perfect"? Some "perfect" people are idolized from afar, but they are always loved best by the people who know that they are not without their flaws. In addition, if you are considered "perfect" by other people, your concerns will be demeaned and devalued by society. Take a look at all those "smart" kids you knew in school. Every time test results came back, what were they doing? They were anxiously awaiting to find out if they were still "smart" or if their efforts weren't good enough to meet standard. And what was going on around them? "What are you worried about? You ALWAYS get an A!" comes from every direction, and not usually in what you would call a reassuring tone.

Just because someone's problems seem illegitimate to you does not mean that you should disregard or mock someone's feelings. (And let's keep in mind... the fear of a low grade is worse for a "smart" kid than many others, because it is a bigger deal for them.)

Fears and concerns are not meant to be mocked or laughed at, then are meant to be solved, comforted, soothed, and reassured. Yes, even the problems of "perfect" people deserve attention, because even if you think they are unfounded... they are still there, and they are still real for that person.

People would do better to keep that in mind when they are dealing with someone they consider to be perfect... as well as when they are wishing that they were. When one is occupied by wishes of perfection, they should think of the "perfect student" and how they were treated... and remember that it's not all it's cracked up to be. (And that the people who act like perfection is such a big deal are inperfect themselves... and how would they know?)

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School Days

...are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence.
-Henry Louis Mencken

School is only a few weeks away--much too soon for the comfort of my sanity.

I don't like school. I don't like it one bit. I don't like the people, I don't like the assignments, I don't like the timing, and I often don't like the teachers. I don't like the conventionalism, I don't like the lack of emotion, and I don't like the tests. I especially don't like all of the dislike that everyone has for everything that school involves.

I know what the beginning of school means. It means the end of summer! It means day after day spent in classes with teachers who don't care about me teaching me things that I don't care about! It also means spending too much of my time with people who see me as "That Smart Kid" or "That Weird Girl"! (Well excuse me for not having indiscriminant breeding at the top of my priority list!) It means the end of justice, humanity, and sleep as the world knows it!

Senior Year is the year that every high school student dreams of, and I can see why: The end of Senior Year marks the end of your life in a small town full of small minds. It is the end of four years of repetitive hallways. It is the beginning of true independence.

But Senior Year is still a year of high school. It will have all the same challenges and frustrations--as well as all the same joys and laughter. It will even have some new ones. (People who forget this are people who catch "Senioritis". It is commonly believed that all Seniors catch this, but it is my opinion that there are a select few, such as myself, that suffer so badly from "Academic Honors" that in order for them also have symptoms of "Senioritis" they probably have some kind of Multiple Personality Disorder... which in all honesty is probably a much bigger problem either educational disease.)

And really, what is so exciting about starting college? You lose all consistency and familiarity with your surroundings, and all of your friends are too far away to help. You have to make new friends (which I am not good at) and you have to actually be responsible... for everything.

Many Seniors (as a symptom of "Senioritis") decide that Senior Year and what happens during it are of the least importance, because it is the last year. The opposite is true. Senior Year and what happens during it are of the MOST importance because it is the last year.

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In The Words Of Worldman: Tickled

Since I have began my blog, there have been a couple of people who have actively followed me and left me comments and encouragement: Peter (Worldman) and Anji. (They are both on the list of Things You Should Click On, which I just figured out how to add.)

I would like to apologize to them, because I am not as good at being active like they are. Every time I recieve a comment from them, I feel like I have recieved a prize, because I know that I leave very few comments. I want them to know that even though I don't comment very often, I do enjoy reading their blogs very much. :)

In addition, I think they both deserve a giant thank-you, and especially Peter, who has been trying so hard to get more traffic to my blog. Peter has done me the great honor of awarding me the "Arte y Pico" award for blogs. I am tickled! Unfortunately, I don't think I know five people to award it to, so I'm going to have to put it on hold, but I will send it on. :)

I will update again soon, and I will be on the look-out for lovely blogs. :D

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Emily

Emily is my big sister. For most people that I talk about here, I change their names, but I just cannot change Emily's, because it is too perfect for her.

Emily and I look almost exactly alike. One time, I was in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and someone Emily knew from school saw me and thought I was her. When I told him that I was actually his sister, he said, "...I didn't know Emily had a twin..." Even people at our church confuse us. Emily has about shoulder-length hair, and I'm infamous for my elbow length hair, and one day, a woman at church saw Emily and stopped her, exclaiming, "You cut all your hair!" Well, no, she hadn't.

I always used to hate that everyone told me I looked like Emily, but eventually, I was kind of happy that they did. I liked it that I was like Emily. Her nickname was Emmo, and for a while, I called myself "Lil Emmo" or sometimes "Lil Emo" (sometimes we had to shorten Emmo to Emo for video games or something, and it was also a common place of discussion for her friends as to whether or not Emily was Emo).

I don't think I could ever admit it to Emily, but she's probably the closest thing I have to a role model. I have learned so much from her without her knowing it. I guess that's kind of common for sisters, but Emily and I aren't very close, so it came as almost a shock to me when I realized that I take after her.

I always enjoy being around Emily (except when she's mad at me) because she's almost always so funny, so I try to behave a lot like her so my friends will enjoy being around me just as much.

I also try to dress like her. I used to think that the way Emily dressed was 'cool', but I have sinced learned that it wasn't really the in-style way to dress, it was just cute and unique.

One of the biggest thing I admire about Emily is probably... well I don't if there's a name for it. It's that when she has decided on something, she doesn't change. She knows what is right and wrong and she acts accordingly. She knows what she wants in a guy, and she won't date anyone but. She is hard-working and firm, without being overly intense or just flat-out stubborn, which is what I tend to be.

Emily has taught me several things, but there is one that stands out.

I had always thought of Emily has the perfect A student sister with the nicest friends and everything working out great for her. And at the point in time when she was applying to and starting college, she wasn't all that nice to me, or at least I didn't think she was. So I complained endlessly about her not knowing what her major would be or what she wanted to do (she didn't decide for years), mostly because Mom and Dad were helping to pay for a lot of the college, and I thought the money could be better spent sending me to a different school.

Well, everyone has a secret that, in some way or another, will probably break your heart.

I'm pretty sure my heart broke when, after she'd moved out, I was looking through all her old papers and found a journal entry about how she felt different and inferior to her friends and how confused she was about what to do with school. (I'm sorry that I was going through your stuff, Emily! Even though you will never read ths...) Well, I pretty much felt like a huge jerk.

Emily is just full of surprises. Another example of this is that Emiy never really had a boyfriend, and I thought it was because that's the way she wanted it. I remember coming home one day and Emily was at the counter eatting forkfuls of cookie dough and looking completely dejected. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that this boy she had liked "wasn't in love with her." I asked her if we had wanted him to be, and she said, "Well, yeah." Long story short, Emily was completely crushed that he liked this other girl and not her and that she had even confessed her feelings, and I agreed to run the other girl over with the truck.

To finish up, I think Emily is one of the greatest people in the world. Even though we are almost identical, she is way prettier than me. She is also considerate and fun-loving, and definitely one-of-a-kind! She is so smart and hard-working and dedicated, but somehow she still manages to be relaxed and funny. She has really worthy goals and I think she is pretty much as perfect as big sisters come.

I don't know anyone who doesn't like Emily, but if I ever anyone who didn't, I think I'd have to shove a pencil up their nose.

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