Better in the morning

Late at night, the world can be a strange and scary place.

It can overwhelm,

make things seem far worse then they are,

drive you to hysterics.

Late at night, those things you know to be rationally true are suddenly irrational.

The ones you admitt to yourself,

the ones you don't,

sometimes, late at night, you feel all of it at once.

Funny how true it is what they say.

That everything looks brighter with the dawn of a new day,

what wonders can unfold within the new awakening brought by a good nights rest.

Amazing how you wake up wondering what you were ever even worried about at all;

How you can fall into someone's arms and feel so right that, at that moment,

doubt seems impossible.

The way you wake up smiling, even after a hard night, and dance around your room in your pajamas.

In that moment, as with the dawn of a new day, the problems of darkness that once weighed so heavily now float away with the clarifying light of rational.

And you realize,

your fears were unfounded

and your only reality is happiness.

Say It Ain't So

I have never been the kind of girl who needed a boyfriend. Granted, there have been times in my life where I felt lonely, or wanted to know what this or that experience is like, or wanted to have someone to love or be loved by, but being "single" has never been something that bothered me. I'm just not that girl.

Now countrary to that, being single is never something I particularly wanted. I was single. That was the fact, the way it was, simple as that. Then I was in a relationship, and that became the way it was, simple yet again.

Lately I feel like I want to pull away. Maybe it's the moving backing home. I find myself slowly surrendering to my mother's will. Trying someway to fix things, I start conforming to her ideal of me hoping it will gaining me the affection and approval I so desire. Nathan is not part of her ideal of me.

Or maybe it's the depression. Pills and therapy and bullshit, so so much bullshit; I feel like I don't have time for anyone but me right now. And even if I do I feel like I don't want to spend time on anyone but me right now. I do this thing where I just give and give and give of myself until I snap - I can't take it anymore, so I cut everyone off completely and pour everything I've got into myself for a little while until I'm feeling good and then I just start right back, giving it all away again. It's like I don't know how to take care of myself. Or at least I don't know how to care for myself ahead of others. I certainly don't know how to tell anyone "no."

Or maybe it's this going away to college. After everything I've been through these last few months I just want to cut ties with everyone and everything here. Move away. Start fresh. Be in a new place with new people. Focus on myself. No attatchments from the past. Just looking out for me, starting my new life.

Or maybe I just pictured myself going off to college, being single, having boys finally give me the time of day, like I feel they just might now. Now that I've a sense of that whole scene. Now that I've got a sense of myself.

Or maybe it's just a bad couple of days. I haven't heard from Nathan hardly at all. I'm barely going to see him for our two weeks together and then it's four months apart. Maybe I'm just feeling the additional distance and it's weighing me down.

I wonder sometimes, if everyone thinks about things as much as I do. Every decision, be it what college to go to, or how to respond to a comment, or what to drink with breakfast in the morning, I think about it over and over, scrutinizing, struggling to think from every angle, trying to ascertain what my biases might be, so that I might make the best, most true and unbiased possible decision. I fear mistakes more than anything. I can't stand the thought of failure. It inhibits me from action altogether sometimes.

I think mostly it's just knowing that Nathan and I aren't forever. And him and I have discussed this, when it ends, it's going to be me. Now it's just a matter of when. How do I know when? Is it now? Four months from now? Next year? How do I know what the experation date is here? Will I just wake up one morning and just know? Because I certainly can't imagine him messing up so bad that a break-up is only logical. I also know it won't just happen gradually (well, unless that's what's already occured here). And I would never forgive myself if the time was right, and on some level I knew, but I tried to ignore it until I made some drunken mistake and messed up so bad I couldn't ignore it anymore.

I don't want this to be over. I don't want to loose someone I love so much. Someone who has become such a good friend, and, through fault of my own, my only true friend. And I know right now I need him. The way I want to run away, it's really when I need him more then ever. But I just can't shake that feeling to run.

Rori Gilmore felt guilty about feeling distant when she was the one who'd been broken up with; so how the hell do I get through this from the other side? How do I know when it's over? And how do I make sure I'm not about to make a huge mistake?

Tired

I hate the word "lover". I don't know why. It just bothers me.

This relates to nothing I had to say here, but then I wonder, did I have anything to say at all?

I feel like I don't know how to do this blog thing anymore. Gone are the days that it just came to me. In many ways I feel with them has gone days when I was in connect with myself. Lately it's all just a jumble. Living life day to day. Getting by. Uncertain of the future. It's really not the worst. Mediocrity is not what I thought it was. I don't think I'd mind a life of minimum wage and fast food meals and back yard barbeques and bridge club. Ambition was once my identity, and now I'm not even sure it's something I want as a part of me anymore. So much for my already dwindling sense of motiviation.

I moved home today. It's what I'd wanted for a few weeks, but now I don't know. What was I fighting for in the first place? And now, here, have I undone all that good? Did I make a point at all? Or is it simply a time we'll look back on one day. "The lost months."

College starts soon. I guess I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm scared I can't do it. I'm worried about how much I'm going to miss here, and Nathan. We both know we CAN do it, but what if I get there and I don't want to. What if things change? I've lived through change. I thought I was good at it. Doesn't mean it's ever something I've loved.

I wrote because all day I felt like writing. All week I've felt like writing. Hell, I've been dreaming of writing for a while now. Again, well, like I use to. But these last few months I just feel so worn. By the world, by my family, by the depression I've been battling. On the bad days, days like today, I wonder if I'll ever feel anything other than apathy ever again. I mean, logically I know it's a passing phase; but that doesn't make it any easier to get out of bed.

This blog is one of the few things I'm proud of. I feel I owe it to myself, and to the reader, to make every post a full effort, passionate and precise. Worthy of your time, worthy of my pride. I miss the days when writing came easy for me. When it was as I intended it to be, a cathartic method to explore not only the outer world, but the inner depths of my soul. But now I'm a little lost. Out here on my own I'm just trying to find myself again. Writing was once where I did that. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and be me.

Broken

World, when life is wrong I turn to you. I bleed out my sorrows by way of ballpoint pen, and be it restorative, or simply theraputic, it provides me catharcys. And so again, today, I turn to you.

World, I don't know what is going on in my life right now, and I'm terrified. I don't know how I'm going to afford food tomorrow, nor where I will be sleeping come night fall. I don't know how I'm going to clean my stained uniform in time for work, or even if I'll manage to scrownge enough gas money to get there. They are small, almost trivial concerns compared to the larger questions of how to pay for medical care, and whether or not I will, indeed, actually be attending college in January, but there quantity, and there constantness, it's an overwhelming feeling that suffocates.

I write this to you world, not as a sorrowful outcry, not as a request for pity or for assistance. I write it to you because I know not what else to do with the words.

You see I am strong, or so I thought. But even the strongest of us can be broken. Though I have faced adversity in my life, at this moment I take perspective and realize that it was not until this moment that I knew what it was to truly hit bottom. Not a flicker of light do I see in the distance. My future is black. An abyss, a void, a ravenous demon of smoke. You might say it is an adventure, a possibilty, but without any sense of promise or certainty, I see only darkness. And as is ever-true with myself and my battle with the darkness, in it I feel nothing, not love, not hope; only sorrow and hatred remind me that I am of flesh. Even the strongest of us, I am learning, have our weaknesses. Even the evilest of tormenters can find love amongst their followers. Some times, even 18-year-old's just want to cry into our mother's arms and be told that it's okay.

Lately I am nomadic. Without rules, without affiliation, without responsibility to any but myself. It is, in many ways, all I ever wanted, and yet it is not what I realized. It is cold, and lonely, and empty. Moments of security are few and far between. Days are lost, nights are cold. I want more than anything to be in my own bed, in a space that was mine. I don't miss the screaming, or the cynacism, but I miss the comfort that can only be found in my beige carpet and my off white walls. I miss my family. I want it back.

Converging Paths

Lately I've keep having this dream. The cutest little blond girl in a bright sundress twirls and twirls in a field of green. She is half me, that is quite clear, but there are foreign features in her face- the half of a man I don't yet recognize. The combination of her takes the best pieces of the two, and makes them better somehow. She is infinite in spirit, and she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She calls out for me to join her. And I wake with the unshakeable feeling that she's waiting somewhere...

And so I wonder...

I remember growing up and dreaming of Italy. I bought travel books with tales of places near and far. I wrote lists upon lists of places I would see. I decided Copenhagen would be first. I envisioned countless adventures - on a Vespa at midnight in Paris, tanning on the beaches of the Mediterranean, climbing the Great Wall. Knowing everything and yet nothing about the world, I would find life, love, food, fun, beauty, art, architecture, spiritual root with the world, and pieces of myself I never even knew existed. I had been so sure for so long that this was what I wanted - to be out and alive. I've wanted it so bad it is a thirst that has never left my mouth, like that for water on a hot humid summer day.

My world was big. Vast, expansive, and to be explored. All my life, it has been the only form of the world I have known. So now that I find my world shrinking in around me, my desires that were once boundless, now find infinite comfort in the idea of an acres spaces with green grass, a white house, and a picket fence, I wonder: how do we know if we're settling, or if what we thought we wanted, just isn't really what we wanted? How do know when to stop looking for happiness? What if on the way to our life's journey, we stumble in to something wonderful - are we to abandon it and keep going? Is the line between following seredipity down a promising path and one of resentment really a line at all? Or are our choices really OUR choices, to be deteremined and later passed or failed with whatever judgement we wish to pass upon them?

And how do I become this new person I want to be without giving up the person I thought I was?

Flight

I found myself wavering, questioning my choices in the past few days. When I was kicked out of the house two weeks ago, told to never come back, was I wrong for following through with just that? Have I been rash? Rebellious? Where my actions based in sane self-preservation and logic? Or shrouded with adolescent desire?

The facts are these: I have lived, all my life, in an abusive home. Be it manifested more on the physical or verbal spectrum at any given time, it was always the bottom line of my familial existence. I have spent 18 years miserable in this environment. No my mother is not a North Korean dictator. Not every single moment of my life has been miserable. We have had our happy memories. In the past few years, it is almost even safe to say that things were alright most of the time. But despite things being "okay," the residue of the tortured relationship of my mother and father is still palpable between her and me. A phantom in our connection, it is a ghost that won't let go. She looks at the person she thinks I am with eyes of disgust and blame - to her, I am wicked and at fault for all of her problems. It is also the case that no matter how long she is in my life, and even after I eventually (hopefully) escape her, my being at fault will remain the truth in her eyes. I will be blamed for everything from her poor health, to her sham of a marriage, to her self-induced misery.

After hearing her voice for the first time today, any doubt about my actions was evaporated completely. I do not deserve to blamed for someone's life. I should not have to live in fear - of her, of verbal or physical violence. I, as an incredibly mature and responsible being of my age (which I shall be so bold as to state with momentary certainty that I am), have every right to a free and happy life. A life away from game playing, and power trips, and guilting, and incessant sensory hate. A life away from a miserable past, and from dwelling on it, and talking about it over and over again. A life away from two absolutely volatile and miserable "adults," who's only intention is to weave themselves silly in spiderwebs of deceit, playing power games and attempting to inflict as much hurt and darkness upon others as they feel inside.

I am not being childish or petty about this. Though the freedom of going where I want, or staying out til whenever is certainly a perk I have enjoyed -one that has me to question the validity of my logic in this whole affair - I re-realised today that it is certainly not my bottom line. I support myself, medically, financially, etc. School and two jobs - I am doing my absolute best to make it so that I require nothing of her. I am certainly not trying to act out, or be dramatic, or even cast blame. I do not want to run off and do drugs, or bitch about how mean my mommy is. This woman may have given me life, a fact to which I attest and know I should be grateful. But she has done nothing short of making me regret that as she does every single day of my existence. Honor thy father and mother, most religions ask of us, but from my perspective, I have paid my penance. I owe these people nothing more than I have already given. And be the very damnation of my soul the cost, I refuse to allow my life to be sucked in to someone else's black hole of misery.

I, Katherine Elizabeth Stevens, am ready to begin my new life. I am ready to wake up, and be happy, and not have to fight so goddamned hard for that every single day. I am ready to be done with drama and with second guessing. I don't care what happened in the past. Mom, Dad, you both are who you are and that's fine by me. I'm not angry about anything you have done to me, I understand you both as people and your individual logics too well for that. This is not about blame, or judgement, or me wanting to cause any more drama than we have all already been through here. Play your games all you want to, I don't mind. But I refuse to be apart of them any more.

No love. No hate. No anger. No affect. Just done.

mind aflutter

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be capable of true monogamy.

My gut instinct tells me no, of course not. It's not something I ever

believed in. Some idealized fantasy of simpler times. Completely impractical in the modern world.

Not only am I the kind of person who can never make a solid decision - always bouncing around, sometimes just pausing to revel in possibility - but I'm also the kind of person who doesn't let things go.

The few people I have truly liked have been incredibly difficult for me to get over. So difficult in fact, that it has scared me out of pursuing people of genuine interest (but that's another blog for another time).

I love Nathan, it's nothing like that, but yet...

sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to look into the familiar baby blues of my best friend without my heart melting, or talk on the phone to an almost without wondering about what might have been.

Someday it'd be nice to find out what it would be like to follow the butterflies.

Rainy Days Again

So, it's back. That god-awful claustrophobic feeling. The one that's like a million tiny electric insects crawling under your skin - you can't sit still. I warded it off for a while. Quite a while. Almost had forgotten it entirely. I occupied myself with other tasks, delighted in summer, captured the feeling of life.

But now, now I can't hide from it it seems. My life has become scheduled/rudimentary/structured/boring/normal again. I can't handle it. I was not designed to live the same day twice. I am not a person who does well with too much structure. I thought it was just everyone leaving me that was cause for the growing hole of darkness in my chest, but it seems this sinking feeling is back. The first sign of a new wave of depression.I find it almost every fall. I'm really trying to fight it off with all my might, but I don't know. I don't feel capable of handling all that is on my plate, and the weight of the responsibility is starting to make me feel trapped.

I really LOVE my life right now. I love my boyfriend. I love my job. I love my school. For once I can't wait to learn again, and I really don't want to lose this. I can't bear the thought off falling into the darkness, as I so often doing, and losing the feeling of things as they are. But at the same time, I'm not sure how to beat this slump. How do you fight the inevitable?

Am I? I often wonder. Am I one of the many victims of this "depression" they so often talk about. I've always told myself that the waves I go through were normal. My sense of personal responsibility nags me to fight my own battles and never surrender to any feat. But I mean, is it so wrong to want to always be happy? Is it that bad to go to a doctor and, when qualifiable of course, ask them to make you feel better? Something about it, be it the subconscious stigma placed on it by my mother or my ridiculous amount of egotistical pride tells me that medicating is for the weak, and yet, how nice would it be to not have to feel this hopeless way I find myself every so often? To never again face a suicidal thought inducing bout of depression?

I don't want to be one of those "Americans." The lazy, chicken shit stereotypes who don't face their own damn problems. The "quick-fix seekers," mere tools of a idealistic marketing strategy in a consumeristic society. Nor do I wish to be some medicated drone, dependent on a prescription to get her through the day, never truly feeling, because her feelings have been "stabilized." I want to be a responsible individual. I want to truly feel alive. But this possibility of a life where I don't constantly have to feel like I'm running from a dark cloud, always watching my back, looking for my next quick fix of sunshine just to keep my skies blue, it's tempting sometimes. Maybe I deserve to try something else - to stop and catch my breath.

Imma Be Me

Fuck them. Fuck them all. The stereotypes, the standards, the status quo. The ones who make me doubt. The negative voices that invade my peaceful reality. The ones who constantly tell me how relationships are a waist, that the material is my worth, and try to define the ideal. Those who induce questioning thoughts - hesitations that prevent me from my happiness. Screw everything that says I have to look like this, I have to behave like that. Forget everything always telling me how me, my life, my relationships should be. To hell with the cynics, the media, the nameless, faceless mean girls. Fuck them all.

I'm living. I'm happy. I will doubt no more.

Transition

So much change in so little time. It's really quite crazy. I look back at that girl I was in high school, just a few months ago, and I hardly even recognize her. She was so awkward. She spent so much time worrying what other people thought of her. She really had so much fear.

It's really hard to even fathom how much I've grown up since then. I mean sure, I'm 18, by no means am I done with this transition, but I'm pausing to glance around in the midst. The foundation of who I am will always be me. But I like the person I am now so much better. She's so much more assured. She's so incredibly strong.

It's funny. You go through high school and every little thing seems so important. The experiences you'll take with you, the true friendships will stay, and the memories you'll cherish...but the second it's over, you look back and realize that none of that other bullshit mattered.

In a Perfect World

I can't wait to be in this place

Be it actual, or metaphorical I don't care

So long as it is

A place where I don't have to wake up to yelling

Or fall asleep in tears

A place where I'm not told daily that I'm ugly,

useless,

unwanted

A place that truly let's me believe that the only opinion of me that matters is my own

A place where I can make my own life choices,

and not have them questioned

A place where I don't have to worry about where I'm going to sleep at night

Or how I'm going to afford food for the day

A place where I don't have to be beaten

and told over and over again that I deserve it

until I actually start to b e l i e v e

A place where I don't have to be yelled at for crying

Told tears are for the spineless

A place that I will not be told that I am unloved

told that I never have been and never will be

because I'm a "useless fucking cunt"

My own mother rues the day I was born.

A place where the people in my life aren't after having power over me,

So high and mighty in their authority

Holding it over my head with crossed arms and taunting faces

Perfect image of a three-year-old, spoiled rotten

They tell me that this place, does in fact exist.

I hope and pray that it does.

But sometimes it's hard to hang on to you're hope.

In fact, after so many years,

It can be hard just trying to convince yourself that you're worthy of anything better.

Calm Before the Storm

I have this dream sometimes

I sit comfortably,

Wrapped in the blanket of my life I am cozy an warm

All is quite, and peaceful

But then I start to shiver

A chill sets in

I grow cold

The blanket starts to rock like waves

Until it has sublimated completely

Suddenly, I'm beneath a dark ocean

Black water enveloping my spirit

It pulls me

down

Fast, powerful waves thrash me about, ripping me apart

A suffocation I can feel in my veins

I don't remember which way is up.

I don't remember how I got here.

I don't remember what it feels like to be safe.

Not My Mother's Daughter

She would love the way he opens doors for me

She would love the way he always pays

She would love the way he is sweet and kind

Though she would chastise me for relying on a man

She would hate his family,

his household,

his parents

Three of the things I love most

She would hate the way he behaves,

the way he is so completely his own person

She would love his sense of humor

if ever she gave it a chance

I would hope she would see that her daughter, does in fact, have some sense of giving her affections only to the worthy

She would hate the trivial things

Like the height difference

Or his heritage

He is the greatest thing in my life

And she the worst

She would hate a great many of the things that make me love him

And she would hate that he is mine

Bartholomew and Jack

Is it?

Is it crazy to think you can have met your one and only at 17?

"Yes," I tell myself.

Preposterous.

But sometimes I don't know.

The way you talk about forever sometimes makes me wish it were so.

I really start to believe you.

And we aren't like them.

Not at all.

What we have is so...indescribable.

I really just can't imagine us going wrong.

I can't picture us fighting.

There would never be a taking for granted.

We're different.

But how many lost little girls have I heard that from?

"Sure you are," became my standard cynical reply.

Maybe I really didn't have the perspective to judge them.

This too shall probably blow up in my face.

But I just don't see it.

The way you are just makes me loose my sense.

...And I told them I wanted to fall in love...

Bliss

It wasn't this all-powerful thing it's always presented as. I didn't come out of it a different person. It didn't turn me into some lovesick puppy. My life was not transformed or even conceivably altered.

I was happy. Really happy. The happiest I can ever remember being. The second I was living it I completely forgot what I was ever worried about. Every discussion I'd had with anyone, any sage piece of wisdom they'd try to pass on from their mistakes - when it came down to it, the only thing that truly mattered was what was in my heart.

It's one of those things that can be generalized. It often is. People say "this is right" "that is wrong", but it's not like that. For every person it's different, and even then with every person it's different.

I've been told I lucked out. But for me, life right now is absolutely marvelous. :)

Troy

Battle scars guard the heart

Like the Trojan wall

Thickly built and rooted in ancient history

Love is precious Helen

Both cause and prisoner

Impending siege leaves her fate in the throws of confusion

Some stories are short stories

This was not to be a ten year war

And yet there was a Trojan horse

Some things are unforeseen

Perhaps Odysseus enjoyed his years of solitude

Though he missed Penelope

What is life without fully-enveloping adventure?

Young hearts are impassioned, impulsive, and easily swayed as the golden maiden shows

They do not pass up Opportunity for Commitment's sake

One can wait on Ithaca's shores for a love that may never return the same,

But I have many islands to see before that day is mine

How life would be simpler were it not for boys clever of spirit and impulsive fair-haired girls with adventure in their eyes...

next

Life hasn't been quite what I want lately. It's a funny place to be on the brink of adulthood.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm having an amazing summer. Lots of adventures. Crazy times with friends. A fabulous boyfriend who makes everyday wonderful. Even had an easy time with my mom for the most part. But it's just...this isn't how I pictured it.

You look up as a little kid, and you picture your life a certain way. And, while I figured out a while ago I wasn't cheerleader material, and I would never be little miss popular, I just saw things a little differently.

I got really excited about moving out. I was going to be rough and young and hip. We'd take our little red Jeep to thrift stores for clothes, before heading back to our crappy little studio apartment. Gettin' by on love, friendship, and minimum wage. It was going to be a glorious adventure, and it was mine for the taking. And while I realize and appreciate the fact that we would've been dead broke, and being stuck at home probably has more benefits than losses, I can't help but feel a pang of sadness every time I see a Cherokee. My life was almost mine.

I just wasn't suppose to be here. I mean, I know I'm not trapped. I'm only here until January, and then I get to go away to college. It really is a pretty sweet deal. It's just not how I pictured. I was going to be a hip young adult. Work as a waitress, or in a coffee shop. Have a cool haircut. Drive a car that was freely mine. Be independent.

And I mean, I'm getting closer. I am now, for the most part, the person I wanted to be last summer. The one with an armful of friendship bracelets, crazy blond hair, a closet full of flannels, and the perfect summer romance. But after conquering that hurdle, I shift, I want something new and different and I feel like I'll never catch up.

I watched this rather mediocre film called Passengers a while ago, and there was a quote from it that has stayed with me.

"You know what's scary about decisions? When you make one, life becomes real. Not possible, or how you imagined it - real."

I'm learning more and more that each choice I make effects the person I will be tomorrow. It's a terrifyingly large amount of pressure. I'm not so trapped in the plexyglass bubble any more. My future is racing towards me and my procrastinative screw up nature has a very loud voice in my head telling me I can't do it.

I want an apartment in a trendy urban city with a closet so full of sundresses there's a new one for each day of summer.

Time to jump.

So what's it going to be Katherine, sink or swim?

In Time, I Trust

"...Wait for a boy who calls you beautiful, instead of hot. Wait for a boy who calls you back when you hang up on him. Wait for a boy who will lay under the stars with you or will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Wait for a boy who kisses your forehead. The boy who wants to show you off to his friends even when you are wearing sweats. Wait for a boy who will pick you up off your tippy toes for a kiss and the one who holds you so tight it feels like he will never let go. Wait for a boy who reminds you of how much he cares & how lucky he is to have you. Wait for a boy who plays with your hair while you’re asleep. The boy who won’t let the night end until he sees one more smile. Wait for a boy who watches you instead of the movie and will turn your head away from the movies just so he can get a second look into your eyes. Wait for a boy who constantly pulls you back every time you say goodbye just for one more kiss. Wait for a boy who calls your phone right after he drops you off, just to hear your voice again. The boy who calls you “honey” or “sweetie”. Wait for a boy who laughs at your jokes, even though you know they are stupid. The boy who makes you feel like you’re his world. Wait for a boy who gives you a little kisses on the tip of your nose. Wait for a boy who will bring you flowers just because its Wednesday. Wait for a boy who turns to his friends and says “that’s her"..."

He's not what I expected. I didn't picture prince charming in plaid. I pictured him a bit taller, maybe broader shoulders, a slightly more chiseled jaw, but here he is, and he's not quite how I pictured, and I'm completely okay with that.

Hamilton and I met in a basement a few months ago. After weeks of hearing that either a) we would be instant best friends or b) we should totally date because c) we were basically the same person, I was naturally a bit curious to meet this individual. For the superficial reasons listed above, I instantly marked him off dating potential and we became pretty good friends. Many late night life-talks via facebook chat followed that one drunken basement evening. But then after Alex and I were over, I found myself wondering. I found myself intoxicated by his wit and sense of self. I questioned his sentences, searching for a hint at potential for more. And then on the class Disneyland trip, I saved him a seat just because I knew we could easily have an amusing 8-hr conversation and he would be one of the few awake and not grumpy after the ordeal. He sat next to me and we giggled about nonsense and cuddled trying to make bus seats more comfortable. I woke up with this tiny blond boy sleeping on top of me and I realized that my feelings for him were more then friendly.

The next phase passed in a blur. I'm pretty sure he'd had his mind made up about me from the get-go (though I'd been oblivious til that fateful night in tha magic kingdom (hehe, sounds like an innuendo)). In the next week our friendship was the same and yet different somehow. They're was more cuddling for starters. But otherwise, the change wasn't visible, just palpable.

After one such afternoon of cuddling and a long winded tickle fight, he kissed me. Two days later on another such afternoon he just looked down at me and says, "So I haven't officially asked this yet, so I think I should: Katherine Stevens, will you go out with me?" I literally spent a good two minutes attempting to think it over (my head was bit cloudy for thinking). He asked if he should be concerned that my answer was taking so long. I explained that I'd never gone out with anyone before so I had to think about it. He giggled.

It's been about a week and a half since then. It's just starting to occur to me that I have a boyfriend. I've been using the word a lot trying to get myself use to the idea; practicing it in casual conversation, trying to be nonchalant. I still have slightly mixed feelings about the whole thing. I have my moments of slight superficial insecurity: My god, what am I doing with him? We must look so silly with my being taller. But I'm starting to see these negative voices quelled with time. Every time I talk to this boy I like him a little more. He's incredibly sweet and everyone (including him) keeps telling me that he really really likes me. I'm a little scared that I might hurt him somehow; we're both aware that he's more invested in this than I am, and we all saw how that circumstance went for me last time. And now, after spending an amazing night with him last night I'm starting to get a little scared that I might really fall for this boy; but by the time I manage to get my heart unguarded enough to let him in, it will be time for him to leave for college and us to be over.

But I'm not worrying. I think part of putting this blog off in fact was fighting worry. I'm not over-thinking this one, I'm just trusting myself on autopilot and living it. I'm not trying to make this something more than it is. We're going to have a fun summer relationship. I'm in it for the ride, as long as that ride may last - I'm gonna enjoy it, and not regret anything when it's over, just look back and smile at the fun I had.


What I can say so far though, is that this last week has taught me three important things I wish I could tell my younger self:

1 - Having a boyfriend is not that special. The word does not revolutionize your life. Sure they're kinda sweet and nifty sometimes, but you can't rest your salvation on someone's shoulders - it's just way too much pressure.

2- Get comfortable with dating before embarking on a relationship. Not every romantic encounter will result in a relationship, and yeah, it kinda sucks sometimes when he just didn't like you back. But love isn't something that can or should be pressured. Date around. Explore the world's bountiful options. It will let you have some great experiences, meet cool people, and learn a lot about yourself. Don't focus on trying to get to the relationship phase, just enjoy the ride for what it is. And if it doesn't ever make it there, you've had fun and you've learned things that you won't even realize you know until you finally do get to that relationship someday. In a roundabout way, I did this; I just went at it with the wrong attitude.

3- Don't settle. Don't accept some half-rate guy just because all you're friends have boyfriends and you don't want to die alone. Wait for the boy who calls you beautiful rather than hot. Don't reduce yourself to some boy who can't even open the door for you. The universe provides all things in time. Be patient and you might just get someone absolutely amazing (...well actually, if I'm talking to myself here, be patient and you WILL get someone absolutely amazing...but anyway...). The best things in life are worth waiting for.

Backed by Popular Demand

I haven't written in almost a month and there's practically been riot in the streets. There's so many things you want me to write about.

I know you want me to write about graduation. About how it was the most surreal experience of my life outside of my car accident. I still haven't come to terms with the fact that I'll never see most of them again. I think if I actually let my self realize that it'd be way too sad. I keep getting told that everything is gonna change, but I don't want it to; so unhealthy as it may be, I'm clinging to the strands of my "old" life right now. I just barely got a high school experience and I'm not quite ready for it to be over just yet. (Kind of like how I still haven't read the 6th Harry Potter cause I just can't let go of Dumbledore yet.)

You're probably curious about my moving out. About how incredibly excited and terrified I am. The space is going to be small. My roommate and I are going to have to absolutely work every free waking hour just to make rent and gas money. But as of this moment we're doing it. Even if it's unfurnished and we live on the floor. I can't live in a house where I'm not sure I'll have a place to sleep depending on my mom's mood. I refused to be belittled and abused anymore. And though I feel a little guilty, like I'm abandoning my family, I'm going to be 18 and it's time for me to fly.

And lastly I know the most pressing topic is my boyfriend. I've been quelled for weeks to write about him (even though we've only been together about 1 now). You know I've really thought about what to say regarding him/this/us and I'm still at a loss for words. I know you all want the deets, but I'm not ready yet. Our relationship, my feelings for him and my feelings about being in relationship are still so constantly changing. Let me catch my breath and I promise I'll give you brilliance.

But for now I have a job interview and a huge party to go to.
Ahh. Summer <3

Powerful

So I've been thinking lately, what is it that makes some one a whore? If you look it up in the dictionary it's a promiscuous or slovenly woman, usually a prostitute...but we use the term so loosely. Skank, whore, slut, sometimes they're even terms we lovingly call our friends. But how is insinuating that your friend sells her self for money a term of endearment exactly? I mean these words were once the lowest of the low in terms of insults, and now we throw them around like as if they were a common greeting. And the tricky thing about them is that sometimes, these words have a double meaning; it can be hard to tell if someone is joking.

So the question is, how do we define what makes someone a slut/skank/whore? Obviously, the dictionary definition is outdated at this point. I had this conversation with my mom the other day and she made the rather astute point that a skank is just someone of low moral/social class, a slut is someone who goes "sluttin' around" with a lot of people, and a whore is someone who "sluts around" only as it is beneficial to them. But then when I proposed the question as to how far one must go to deem these terms, it became difficult to receive and answer. (Partially because I think she began to get really suspicious that I had much more personal association with what she thought was an abstract conversation than she had realized at first.)

The reason I've been so curious is because I have been quite the victim of such name calling recently. It started with my friends joking around. Yeah I made out with Barbosa a lot and kind of publicly, haha, I'm a whore, very funny. But then someone wrote "So I hear you're slutty now" on my formspring, and I began to question my actions. Is that really what some people think of me? I mean I understand that I am a very sexualized person and I present a certain image, but by dictionary terms, I'm not a slovenly woman. And it's not so much worry what other people think of me as it is what this means for my own self perception.

I grew up with this rather male-modeled perception in my head of sex as power. Some one who sleeps with a lot of people is cool and powerful. My childhood cinematic role models taught me that being a sexy woman gives you this kind of power over men, and as I grew up and it became more real I learned just how intoxicating such power can be. (And you really can't factor love into any of this argument, because as far as I was, and somewhat still am concerned, sex and love are two different things. Though I believe they sometimes intermingle, let's just say they're oil and water for the sake of this post.)

So where is the line between being sexy and powerful and being a whore? Does "putting out" surrender ones power? Because the way I see it, if I want to hook up with so and so, it's my life and I have a right to do that, but at the same time, it's incredibly complicated to make these choices on a situational basis. Hooking up with random guys is a slutty thing to do; it cannot be justified because one "wanted to". I think the differentiation (or at least the conclusion I've made) is who holds the power. It's different in a relationship, but in terms of hooking up, the difference between the powerful woman and the slut is that sluts get taken advantage of. I can live with someone calling me a whore as long as I know I was in control of the situation - you don't get emotionally attached; you do things on your terms; you don't let any boy use you; and mostly, you own every choice that you make.

Having been on the receiving end though, I think I for one am going to be a lot more sensitive of the use of this term and try to be a lot less judgmental of the girls I might use it with. I don't have a question for you, the reader, or an answer really; it was just a little food for thought.

Breathe

Hey! Guess what? I'm okay.
Life's up, life's down, but I'm okay.
I thought I couldn't live without you, we've both moved on and I'm okay.
Alex and I are starting to be friends. Real, actual, just friends, and I'm okay.

Green-Eyed Girl

Around you, I have discovered, I become this person I don't want to be.

I'm petty and I'm jealous.
I can't stand watching other girls flirt with you,

even if they're my friends and I know nothing's going on,
even when we're they're sitting right next to their boyfriend of forever.

I really can't take it when it's the girls that I know are after you,

even if I know you hate them.

I can't handle it because they get to touch you and I don't.
I can't handle that we'll be in the same room and you will completely ignore me and talk to them. Though rumor has it that maybe your not flirting with me because you actually do like me, somehow, being ignored, it really doesn't feel that way.

I hate that we're at this place where we're friends, but we aren't really. I mean, to you we might be. You seem fine. But I can't handle it. Being around you is miserable for me - it only reminds me how much I like you.

(Hittin' My Head) Against the Wall

Life's frustrating right now.

My good friends keep asking me why the hell I'm with Alex. I mean, technically, I'm not with Alex, but I still want to be with Alex. Everyone always sees us together and assumes I'm with Alex. I'm still obsessed with Alex. I can't go five seconds without thinking about Alex. "He's the crazy one" they tell me when I tell them that he's made it clear he doesn't want me. Apparently I'm an awesome person and he doesn't deserve me if he's too stupid to see that, and I know this, but I can't help myself. It's like him not wanting me makes me want him even more. I have a feeling it's tied to some daddy issue of vying for affection. But, even so, it's more than that. Being with him would be convenient. I see him all the time anyway, I'm already comfortable with him. It just makes sense. My heart's been through too much this year. I don't want another boy. I don't want to have to start all over again when I've made it this far. I want to work it out. I want to move forward.

I've debated just telling him. Telling him that when I said I was cool with us just being friends I was lying. I was lying because I didn't feel like I had any other choice. I was thinking about asking him over today. But I don't think I will. I'm too chicken. I'm scared he'll say no. And knowing him, he won't really say no he'll come up with a nice non-no and me having to see him all the time will become this awkward torture for the both of us. And yet, having to see him already kills me inside, so isn't the chance that it could get better worth the risk of it getting worse?

And then there's this whole sex thing. I was talking with one of my friends about some stuff and she made it really apparent she's on some self-determined timeline that she has to lose it before high school's over. At first I was like, "Well I'm not quite in that much of a rush...", but aren't I? I mean, I go back and forth on this issue constantly, and I'm not on some timeline, I think that's stupid, but it's all I can think about lately. (Other then obsessing of Alex that is. It's a deadly depressing combination.) You see since I crashed my car I've been bad. Maybe not outwardly so, but I notice in moments that my depression's gotten worse. It's not like suicidal or anything, but it's like I can't feel anything anymore. It's pure apathy. I care about nothing. I feel nothing. The only moments that I actually feel alive are the one's that I'm "with" someone. So I think somewhere I've subliminally told myself that I want to have sex because I want to feel alive. I know I should care more about the whole virginity thing than I do (or so my Catholic education is constantly telling me), but I just don't. I'll probably change my mind again. I mean, it's not like I have any current geographically-available prospects. I don't know. I'm just in one of those places where my life's on stall. I'm due for some good though, so hopefully things will pick up soon.

Needing/Getting

Wanting something you can't have is probably the most frustrating thing in the world. You'd think I'd've learned by now, but it's quite the opposite actually. I've never been good at not getting my way.

It's sort of my problem with Alex right now. Whenever things start picking up with him, they get slammed to a screeching halt. For every two steps we've taken forward it's always four steps back.

Things started really good. It seemed to be going somewhere. Everyone told me it was going somewhere. (But then part of our problem is always our relationship being based on what I'm hearing from other people because he'll never just talk to me.) Then suddenly he tells me that he can't do the whole "monogamous relationship" thing. Not quite the ideal, but alright, cool. That seemed to make sense considering we'd both be parting ways in a few months anyway. And yet a few weeks later when we finally got to talk about it (or text actually cause we could never manage to actually have the conversation in person) and I offer him free range on whatever he wants this to be, he tells me he just wants to be friends.

Now this seemed to be fine and dandy. I mean, I didn't like him that much to begin with, that was the point of this, right? ...But then prom roles around. The secrecy thing was hard. The watching the slutface that is supposedly my friend all over him like she always is just because she knows she can be was not so fun. Overall I think we had a good time, but the entire night he was giving me mixed messages. One second he's pulling me closer and the next he's pushing my hand away. Later when we're all playing hide and seek (your partner was your date of course) him and I ended up taking a nap in a sand trap (oddly foiling our first date) and we're having another one of those "straight from teen novel" moments like we do talking abstractly about life and stuff, when he starts telling me about the girls he was debating between asking to prom. I really shouldn't be offended, but knowing that I hadn't even been one of the people he was thinking of asking when we had been dating up til the week before kind of hurt.

I'd known it before, but I think that was the moment that it hit me that I didn't want to be just friends with this person. That I really like him.

And I know that there's nothing I can do now. Now that we're in the "friends zone", but I can't help it. Every time I see him all I can think about is kissing him again. I made the mistake of giving him a hug today, his scent is still haunting me. I think I'm so glad that any of the guys I've really liked live a billion miles away, because wanting some one so much knowing full and well you can't have them and having to see them every day is I think on of the most miserable experiences I've yet to encounter.

I really don't know what I'm going to do and it's making me crazy. One minute he's completely ignoring me and the next he's completely flirting. Part of me wants to hit him, part of me wants to jump him, and all of me just wants to know what's going on.

Oh, and on an ironic note, the morning after prom my mom was asking about him. She said he was "such a nice boy"; why wasn't I dating him? Alas, if only she knew...

007

I feel like I should blog about prom. It was an important experience in my life (so I've been told) and I do tend to recount those here. Though I hate the thought of forced writing. Me telling you stories can't possibly be fun to read. But it's senior ditch day and I don't feel like studying so...

So Saturday night. People came over, my mom and I argued about my hair, we took pictures, we found out you can fit exactly 16 people in my shower (though not very comfortably). The party bus got here, we got on, signed a waiver, broke a glass (and all yelled "Opa!" in honor of Maria), and Nate swung from the ceiling poles. We got to the prom, ate some crap chicken, took a giant group picture, danced, and the girls took a few cumulative trips to the bathroom. It was over much to quickly for the amount of work that went into it. We danced the whole way home.

Back at my place we played a midnight game of hide and seek on the golf course. Quite a site it must've been to see roughly 20 teenagers running around in semi-prom attire. You're partner was your date. Alex and I ended up taking a nap in a sand trap. Starring up at the sky, it was oddly parallel to our first date, but it was definately different this time. He's just so hot and cold and it's the most frustrating thing ever. Every time I think we take a step forward, we take two steps back. He told me (or correction, texted) that he just wants to be friends, but then I hear he's bitching to his friends about how it was too weird to ask me to prom. I thought he was having a good time dancing with me, but it was like one minute he was pulling me closer and the next he'd be pulling his hand away if I'd try to hold it. And then we're laying there talking and he starts telling me about the two girls he'd been debating between asking to prom. Like, um, hello? Hi, I'm the girl you just went to prom with. You're well aware I have a rather large crush on you. Thanks so much for letting me know you weren't even thinking of going with me. On the bright side it's good to know that when I asked him it "took the pressure off" cause he didn't have to think about it any more. Well, whew, glad I was here to make you're life easier for you buddy boy. But you know, on the other hand, it's making me glad I'm not really friends with any of these "almosts" I've had. It hurts way to much to spend every second your with someone desperately wanting to kiss them all while knowing there busy thinking of someone else.

It was extra awkward cause the next morning my mom was asking me about him. Like "Why don't you like him Katherine? He was cute and very polite. Is he a smart boy? He seemed nice." xD

Headaches

You know the kind
They start out as inklings in the back of your mind - like my memories of you
Faint once, they grow stronger
More than just a little annoyance
It's a power that corrupts
The kind of pain that radiates right down to your toes
They leave you in agony
You want to carve it out
Screw your existence, your well-being
You feel hollow; you want to be hollow - to dig out the pain

You long to scrape it from your very eyeballs

Nothing matters anymore
The good, the bad
The pain, the memories
You just want it out

Pedestal

"More, more," cried the boy.
"But why?" I groaned in reply.
"Because," he insisted, pouting.
"But I have already given so much," I begrudgingly reminded, "why can you not just be happy with what is?"
"Because you are my everything," the boy replied smiling with a simplistically definitive tone.
"But that is an obligation for which I did not ask," I protested.
"But, my little siren, it is so," he said with a growing, almost menacing grin.
I felt my face heat with guilt that was not rightfully my own. "But I did not ask to lure you here. Any rocks cast upon you, you have cast upon yourself," my voice dwindled before trailing, "...but I told you not to fall in love with me..."
Without even looking up from his toys he replied, "but you are Eve, taunting me with your sweet fruits, now I am your burden to bear."
"But can gratitude not be enough to repay your affections, especially when affection is idolized for it's freely given rights?" I asked, feeling trapped and confused.
"No," he smirked, "you are my heart, my soul, my conscience. You are my everything. I give you my everything. There. It is yours." He smashed his fist into the floor like a kamikaze pilot, laughing.
"But who am I too be responsible for all that is you?," I questioned, sweat trickling my brow, my conscious beginning to feel the stress of his life's weight.
"You are my everything," he smiled, and for a moment, I believed him.

Sirenum

Sing little siren,
your songs of sweet sorrow,
the hours you've spent preparing for this moment,
crafting the illusion of a goddess.

Flutter your eyelashes little siren,
flash a smile brighter than a lighthouse,
grant the passerby a false sense of security,
draw the ship in closer.

Sing softer little siren,
leave them hanging on your whispers,
reach out to them,
pretend as though you want them so.

Play your game little siren,
watch the boys come closer now,
don't stop luring til they're crashing,
til their hearts lay mangled and broken on the rocks.

Laugh lightly little siren,
your jaded heart takes cynical joy in the demise of innocents,
somewhere inside you know that you are ugly,
but you'll pride yourself on how well you can pretend to be beautiful.

Snow Patrol and Catch-22's

So I'm lying on the porch swing in my backyard in the pouring rain listening to Snow Patrol letting my imagination wander when all of the sudden I just imagined internet boy was there. And I started thinking about him, about us, about lately.

Doesn't he know he's not the only one hurting? He writes these things about me in his blog, it almost seems like he's checking to see if I pay attention. But I just don't understand; how can he not get that I miss him too?

So many times, I've wanted to call him. On the side of the road after I smashed my car, I was just standing there, shaking, choking down tears - I couldn't think of anyone's voice I'd rather hear; but I resisted.

But as much as I want to be his friend, we're caught in a catch-22 here. I can't be just friends with him, but I can't be more.

He and I don't work. We both agreed. He was always a bit idealistic about it, but it's the truth. We're going to grow into two very different people. Even if we had any geographic hope, our lives, our dreams, our destinies, they're just too different. And continuing on though I know that defeat is inevitable - a hurt like that my heart can't bear.

Since he's been gone, I'm really trying to learn to stand on my own. And it's really important to me that I learn to do that. Talking to him, it's too easy to fish for compliments and let him boost my ego. It's too tempting to allow my self-esteem to rely on his lust. I need to sort out myself before I let anyone in, especially him.

So internet boy, when I told you I wasn't ready to be bffies anytime soon, it wasn't you and it wasn't me being a bitch. I can't be your friend, because I still love you too much. I'm not sure it will ever go away; but I know that as long as I do it's too easy to slip back into old patterns. "I don't know where, and I don't know how, but it will always be the same between you and me." And until the day comes that it's not, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to be your friend.

Keeping Score

Why is it that when guys and girls hook up, the guy gets high fives and the girl snide remarks? It's the very reason I swore I would never date a Palma boy. I mean things were complicated enough when I tried to date a York boy. But with my flavor of the moment being of the same social circle, it's like my friends are all up in my business. It started cute with them wanting us to be together, and I guess it still is, and initially, I was the one they were high-five-ing. I know they have the best of intentions and they only tease me because they love me; but as the one who normally dishes out the satirical jabs, they're a little difficult to take.

Today after school for instance. Me, Spam, boy-in-question, and some of our guy friends are chilling in the parking lot and I got chastised like no other. Now part of this is because I'm overly sensitive about people making fun of me, and part of it is that I'm a prude so anyone making reference to me in any sort of sexual situation makes me ridiculously uncomfortable (plus bad flash back of elementary boys kicking dirt in my face because I was "ugly"; I just sense the male-driven blow to my self-esteem in tow), but the references made indicated that they know exactly what happened Saturday night, and I know I didn't tell them, so clearly, he did. And I'll admitt, hooking up with a guy you are not with somewhat randomly at a party (especially when you fail to be subtle about it) is asking for trouble; but suddenly my friends are making me question the morality of my choices and the foundation of the very thing they once encouraged.

I'm not naive. I know that some of my guy friends have or have had a crushes on me. I had this great thing going where I was that awesome, unattainable girl. Today those same guys are standing there, making jokes about my being a slut. They've always done this, but suddenly, probably entirely through fault of my conscience kicking in, I sensed venom in their pestering. I found myself beginning to question if they were right. Is this what my actions have reduced me to? Have I ruined the good thing I had going and become just another one of the girls in our social circle? ...I've suddenly become ridiculously aware that for guys, hooking up is like a scoreboard and even with the sweetest boys, to some extent, all girls are just a piece of ass.

And worse then realizing something that I thought was special (I know, I know, I'm such a girl) was just viewed as another point on someone's scoreboard and the fear that I've destroyed my reputation, is that I'm now worried what my guy thinks of me. I know he doesn't like their bullshit. What if their interfering makes him not like me too? In worst possible scenario (aka the conclusion my mind always jumps to first) what if I've become such a joke that he decides he's hit that and doesn't want it anymore? I was so excited when we survived the three week curse (within the third week of the first ask out, any boy I've ever had a thing with stops talking to me) but we were already in this weird relationship limbo, maybe I got my hopes up too soon. Ironic that the time I could most use a fifteen minute conversation with him before this crashes and burns, I do just that to my mode of transportation. :P

m00bs

I love the way he smiles when our eyes meet for the first time we see each other that day.
I love the way he pokes me back when I poke him.
I love the way we share food like it's no big deal.
I love the way he hugs me every chance he gets.
I love the way I feel safe when he hugs me.
I love the way we'll be having a conversation and he'll just spontaneously lean in really close to my face to make me laugh.
I love that when other girls are throwing themselves at him, he moves in a little closer so I don't get jealous.
I love the way we text all the things that, in present company, we can't say.
I love the way he sneaks off with me just to hold hands.
I love the way we have spontaneous little adventures.
I love the way he kisses my neck.
I love the way we have telepathy. We don't have to say anything to understand each other.
I love the way that us being together is like our little secret. We can just stand with the group, linked pinkies, and no one can see, but I know he's with me and I'm with him. <3

Crash

It was easily the scariest, most surreal experience of my life so far. From the second I left the driveway, something was telling me to be careful, but I wasn't.
Two seconds. I looked down for literally two seconds, if even that.
The sound of metal coiling in torment was horrible.
One minute I'm cruising along, and the next I look up and watch my freedom literally crumble in around me.
The glass from the shattered back window of the car in front of me rained in through my sun roof like a shower of needles.
I feel like I should've done more. I feel like I literally just sat there and watched it happen.

But human reaction time is slow, and I didn't really believe what was happening.

I also feel like I should be grateful. It was only a car after all. It could've been my life.
But what is a car if not my life? I have worked so hard for so long to gain some symbolence of independence, and in two seconds, it's completely gone. I'm back to square one.
Everyone's said "it happens to the best of us, it's not like you planed it, that's why they call it an accident", but I can't help but hate myself for it.
How could I be so stupid? How could I take something that was so incredibly vital to my happiness for granted?
I don't think I've ever loved anything as much as I loved that car.
I really didn't realize what I had until it was gone.
But now I've fucked it up.
And once again I'm trapped in a prison of my own imbecilic making.

Sparks(Notes)

My life lately has pretty much been a series of not actually reading various books for various classes. I thought it only fitting that my blog be too. ^-^

Ch. 2 Summary: It happened the way I thought it and yet, I don't really feel right saying that because I hadn't really thought about it. Maybe that's why it was so great: I'd had no expectations.
The evening started in a group of our friends. (Roller skating; how much of a Katherine kinda first date is that? haha.) They teased us mercilessly. After, everyone went over to MickeyD's.
Half way to the door he and I decided we were sick of everyone's bullshit so we just bailed. We drove around aimlessly and occasionally I'd ask him if we should go left, right, or straight (he didn't know the area). Eventually even I got lost, but sure enough when we got through the trees, we were at the beach. We got out and walked around until eventually (because I'm unstable on solid ground so sand and darkness only make it worse) I tripped. We ended up laying in the sand starring at this ridiculously gorgeous starry sky. It was the most cliche evening of my life; straight out of a work of fiction - the middle-aged women with flashlights and disapproving glances, my phone alarm interrupting our makeout-sesh, his holding my hand so I didn't fall over as I hopped over rocks on the way to the parking lot.

Ch. 2 Analysis: I really don't know what this means. In retrospective, it was perfect, but in the moment - whether it my nerves about making curfew, or the infamous metaphorical wall I use to constantly keep people out - I didn't really let myself feel it. And part of that is also that I'm not crazy about him. It's not like Luke or Kiefer or one of those crushes where you're just so infatuated that your heart is pounding and you want to scribble their name all over your notebook. Chill and heartache-risk-free, that's what I was looking for with him; and the more time I spend with him, the more I like it and the more I like him. This is the first time I've ever felt like I was actually building a real relationship with someone. For once I don't care if anyone knows, I don't care if this ever even turns into a "relationship". If this is all it ever is, I'm completely good with that.
Him and I are just comfortable together. There doesn't need to be nervousness, I don't feel like I have to watch myself. We don't have to say everything, or even say anything at all. I can just sit in the car and hold his hand while he talks on the phone and it's all good - and it seems it just might be for at least a bit longer...

Stars

Last night was epic. It was my first date with the new boy. We had a fairly large-group of non-dance goers and we went to this run-down old roller rink. It was fun. My friends were definately getting some laughs out of teasing me and my date.

After, we drove to McDonald's. The boy in question and I rode in the same car and got there a little late. We started walking up, cringing in unison and the teasing we were about to endure for taking so long in the car when about ten feet from the door I just turned to him and said "how bout we just leave and not put up with this bullshit?". He was like, "okay" and even with our friends in clear view (though I don't think they saw us) we just turned around and went back to the car.

We couldn't figure out what to do so we settled on driving aimlessly. It was particularly effective because he doesn't know Monterey so every stoplight I'd just say "right, left, or straight?". We got lost for a while, and then ended up at Carmel beach. Kind of ironic considering we'd been across the street from a beach to begin with.

We had exactly 8 minutes to kill at the beach, because based on my mom's paranoia earlier in the evening when I left for the "dance", I could definately not afford to be late. We settled on walking on the beach; except like 100 feet out he just spontaneously laid down. I followed suit. Being me, naturally the first thing I said was, "So...this is cliche."

So I'm lying here under this gorgeous starry sky on a beautiful beach in the arms of the guy I like and all I could think was this should be perfect. Not this is perfect, but this should be perfect. Even in some romantic circumstance that countless societal objects (film, literature, etc) have hardwired into my brain as "perfect," it didn't feel perfect. I mean, it was cool I guess. The whole making out thing that I've discovered lately is cool I guess. But it's not like something I swoon over. (...Aren't girls suppose to swoon?)

It was straight out of fiction right up to my phone alarm interrupting out makeout-sesh, and yet, it's the first instance in my life that has me genuinely worried about how emotionally damaged I am (I mean am I really so bad off that I can't even feel affection?). But then maybe I'm over reacting; maybe this (boys and kissing and stuff) is just another one of those things that everyone makes a big fucking deal about that I just don't get - I mean, that does happen to me a lot; I'm not some flowery idealist.

I wanted this (I would say relationship, but it isn't quite that just yet so I won't superimpose such a severe word so prematurely) for the sake of having one. I wanted to get a few experiences out of the way before I went to college. But now I'm beginning to wonder if in settling for someone who would do rather then holding out for someone I really liked I've made a mistake. I feel like he really likes me whereas I'm still kinda on the fence about it (and lord knows I do not need another boy with feelings for me that I can't reciprocate making me feel like a horrible person for hurting him without meaning to).

We had a great time and he's a really sweet guy, but I just don't know. Maybe we'll end up together, maybe not. Ideally I'll just take some advice off of last weeks episode of Greek and use the word "casual" enough that he'll get the hint not to get too emotionally attached :P

Fast-Forward

I don't like here. I don't like this slow with the awkward moments in the doorway. These afternoons trading sideways glances. The telepathic arguments edged with body language debating who will make the next move. You can't be all over me one night, and then barely touch me the next. I can't handle this place because I feel like I'm stuck here.

I know this is suppose to be the good part. The moments when I'm trying to read your face. The fun of getting to know each other. The excited uncertain possibility of it all. But I've been here to much as of late. Maybe not with you, but regardless, I want to move forward.

I kind of wonder if it's a bad sign. If maybe I just can't feel anymore. I've noticed lately that I'm quite jaded when it comes to romantic entanglements. I could have a flirtatious conversation with my most platonic friend and have it be as real as it would with the object of my affection. It's like it's all the same I'm just so numb to it anymore.

It doesn't help that I went into this with the wrong intentions. You were cute, I was bored - I wanted to prove that I could win you. I wanted a relationship where I was the one desired rather than the one desiring. One where, if only in illusion, I was the one with the power to stay or walk away.

But then this weird thing happened where I started liking you. A lot more than I'd originally planned. I find myself clinging to my sanity, trying so hard not to really fall for you until I'm sure that I've got somewhere to land.

A word...

You said you wanted me to do something, so I did. I ended it. I'm sorry if that's not what you were hoping for. If you wanted someone who would give up her future for you, you should've fallen for some bimbette sans integrity. But guess what? You didn't. You fell for me. And now we're over. Like a month over. And I know I meant more to you than getting over in a month will allot, but don't make me feel bad for living my life. It's not like I'm flitting around screwing random guys; and lord knows you've had a few girls in your time with me. You said you wanted me to be happy. Well this is me happy. And if you really did love me, you wouldn't judge me for that.

First Kiss

Dwindling on door steps after an evening spent close
The warmth of the cottage slowly fading
Enveloped in the cold of the night,
The shivers shake but do not move us
Eyes rise, then fall, meeting only secondarily
Awkward giggles ensue, adrenaline rising
Disclaimers are offered and rebutaled only with lips on lips
Eyes closed, all is quiet
Struggling to concentrate on my every movement, counting my breath as he moves me closer, lips still locked
Finally my captive mouth is set free, but arms rush in around me, holding me in my place
"I must go," I protest, and reluctantly, he releases me
Footsteps to car doors,
Polite salutations and promises of next meets exchanged, softly, he kisses me again, my brain humming with silly distractions

Locomotive of Appraise...

The last few weeks of my life have literally been INSANE. And while I have several deep, melodic writings of a philosophical nature which I have yet to find time to write but have taken notes on so as to remember to write, I feel an overview seems appropriate at the moment.

Had my crazy grandmother show up in my school parking lot a few weeks ago. Last time I saw her I was ten. I wasn't even aware she was still alive. Kind of a dramatic day and some fall out after. Everyone seems to think I should be going through some big emotional trauma over it, but as far as I'm concerned she may as well be dead, I just have a new funny story.

Today is the Ides of March. It is exactly one month since I have talked to internet boy. It was the last day for history retakes. However, only one of these three things is directly applicable to my blogging life. I miss him. It's been a roller coaster of better and worse. There's moments I want to call him and tell him something and have to resist. I know I'm going to be okay, but I do miss my friend. The worst is wondering what he's up to and if he's okay too.

I just got into Emerson. That's seven for seven so far with Fullerton, Long Beach, Cal Poly, Notheastern, USF, UOP, and Suffolk. On the one hand all these yes' make me feel so karmatically rewarded for the years of life I've dwindled away enduring less-than-stellar schooling experiences; on the other hand I'm starting to develop some cockiness - that first rejection letter is going to be a bitch.

And since I always just blog on and on about boys, I suppose I can't go without saying there's a new one. I spoke of him before as the that guy friend I kinda liked. I really was bent on keeping it casual; but now we've got this problem of I want something a little less casual. We hung out Friday with a big group of my friends (great day). It's annoying though because my friends are butting in to the extent that I had about 20 people ask me today if we were dating. Now granted, the rumor-inducing cuddlefest '10 on Nate's couch was probably not the greatest way to keep things on the DL, but I was bored and he was snuggly *innocent pouty face*. It was a rather adorable evening. He kissed me on the front step and everything (Is it wrong that my first thoughts were, "oh my god! I finally got that over with!" ?) - I'm seriously still at a point where I'm fairly convinced I imagined the whole thing though; there's just no way I actually found someone that thought my awkward was cute enough to actually make it through that moment. I think I could really like this guy. Right now I'm just doing my best to stay uninvested so I don't get hurt for the umpteinth time this year...well, that and trying to contain myself until I get to see him again, haha.

The Fear

I know that I'm weird.
I talk to myself and I twirl.
But I grew up telling myself every birthday that this year there'd be a boy

or next year

or the year after that.

But now I'm beginning to wonder, what happens if I run out of years?
Talking to myself will stop being cute someday soon;
And eventually, my knees will give out so that I can twirl no more.
What if someday it's just me and my cats?

I don't even like cats.

Hold on to your hats readers, because for once, I am facing a legitimately new problem! *gasp* (In case you hadn't notice I just ate like a shitload of Twizzlers and I'm bouncing off the fucking walls on an epic sugar high rite about now).

For the first time in a couple months, I don't have a guy I'm crushing on at the moment. As of today, I have survived a week without internet boy. And while I still miss him like crazy, I feel myself getting a little stronger each day. For once, I got my heart battered and didn't feel the need to immediately rush into someone else's arms. I'm not feeling the need to "fill the void" like I usually do when this stuff happens. I feel like I'm adequately over it (which for the record, would normally not happen in a week, but I'd sensed we were ending a while ago and have sort of been preparing myself ever since); or over it enough to start a new relationship at least. And yet, I don't really want one. I like being single. I like being able to flirt with anyone and know that my options are unlimited. It's liberating and exciting.

The downside of single is that I find myself getting bored. I miss that outlet of teenage hormones that is "talking to" a guy. I'm not really feeling the need to try and start anything (lord knows I am sick and tired of getting emotionally invested in things that don't pan out; hell, you're probably tired just reading about all of it), and yet "dating around" feels a little too loose for someone of my minimal experience. The girl who always just wanted a boyfriend is now actually seeking a casual open relationship. Someone to text and hang out with and have fun with, without the drama and the labels. Think about it: you go out, have fun, do what you want, chat it up with whomever, and yet you know you've got that ego-boost of a backup person to chill with later. No drama, minimal emotional attachments, just fun. Right about now I'm going through a phase where I like fun.

So... I asked out one of my guy friends today. He's cute and stuff and he's asked me out before but I turned him down cause I was stuck in that "relationship" state of mind and I just don't see that happening with him. But anyway, we're gonna hang sometime this week. Nice, casual, no strings. Should be fun.

I'm not getting my hopes up too much given my recent track record, but I'll keep ya posted ;)

The Anatomy of a First Kiss

So I'm reading this book today called The Anatomy of a Boyfriend that my friend Hedieh lent me. It's rather smut-tastic. I relate to the main character's plight as she frets over this boy and as they go through their relationship. I can see what she's doing wrong even before she realizes it. I'm thoroughly enjoying the story. The only problem is that I can't seem to shake the thought of how much I wish I knew what it was like to kiss someone. I know this is a weird and trivial concern, especially among everything going on in my life right now, but the main guy in the story, Wes, explained how he'd never had any physical girl experience and how that lack of previous experience only leaves him scared and unprepared when he has future opportunities (if that makes any sense) and I just totally related.

Up until that point in the book, I felt like I had lived the story. The cute meeting, the witty banter, the getting to know each other - I've done that dozens of times. But the thing is, when I get to the part where they expect me to make a move, I have absolutely no idea what to do. Naturally, they don't know this, and the other party usually perceives this as me not liking them. The budding romance is then murderously stabbed to death like a rose chopped from the bush brutally with dull rusty scissors (or something to that effect).

Watching (or reading as the case may be) these two fictitious characters work through that awkward moment and then how the relationship took off from there made me really sad thinking of all the amazing Wes-like guys I could've had if we'd just made it through that moment. But it's like that's always the part where I get stuck. I mean, obviously I know that basically we put are mouths together and that is the structure by which it works, but aside from that I am completely clueless. I didn't exactly have friends in seventh grade when that kinda stuff was the girl gossip, ya know? I've always just kind of tried to maintain the attitude that it will happen when it happens (because it's when people try to force these things that the horror-stories come about). I guess I'm just getting impatient. It's like this big giant secret that the whole world is in on but me. I just hope that someday soon, the right guy and the right opportunity will come about so that I can solve that little mystery and stop obsessing.

Charlie Chaplin would be proud

I think one of my greatest skills is the way that it's the times I'm in the most pain that I make the most of my life. The greater the pain, the happier I am. Because I know that if I pretend to be happy, it might eventually come true. And that if I let that pain in, if only for an instant, I may never get control again.

Happened today. I did so much better than I thought I would. Day #1 without him. 10 months of constant communication left me terrified whether or not I could make it just a day without. But I did. I fought the pain with all my might and in the end, I won. I had a good day, and I was actually really happy for a minute or two.

But then I let it in. I re-read our last letter. Checked his blog to see if he'd posted some message about what a horrible person I am yet. And now, I feel like I can't breathe.

It's really scary to have no one. I don't know when I became so dependent on men. I guess I always have been, I just didn't realize it. I went from being a daddy's girl, to dependent on my best friend, to one crush after another without ever just being independent of male attention.
I'm making a few changes in honor of Lent. I'm giving up simple carbs and reducing my dairy. I'm taking up running on a daily basis again. I'm going to make an effort to do better in school, and at home, and to serve my community more.

I wrote this rather self-hating post a few weeks back (which I deleted shortly afterwords). I think it really made me acknowledge some things, and realize I have a lot of work to do before I can successfully face the big bad world.

I'm making a commitment tomorrow. To the universe (I'm not particularly theistic), to myself, and to you few readers out there. For the next 40 days, I'm going to try to not be so afraid of things. I will not be afraid of failure, or more importantly, success. I am going to give life my all, stand on my own two feet, and have faith that even if I get knocked down, I am strong enough to get back up again.

The Truth of the Matter

I know you have some great belief that you and I were meant to be.

That we will be together forever.

I hate to break it to you, but this is not true.

In fact it is impossible.

In two years,

in five years,

in ten years,

even physically together,
we will not remain the same people and things will not be the same.

It doesn't mean I don't love you,

It doesn't mean I don't value the time we share.

It just means that sometimes I think you forget your reality.


I hate to have to be the cynic in this relationship,

(and you the romantic, my what a gender-role-reversal)

But I grew up in a house where love was not a reality.

You will be the first.

But you will not be the only.

Holding my breath...

It's happening again.
I'm happy.
Life is good, great, fantastic even!
I have a cute boy who likes me, I know that I have a college I can go to next year, my family and I are getting along, I'm motivated in school, life is awesome.
So why is there this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach?
The one that makes me hold my breath, knowing that if I so much as blink, it will all be gone.
It's really not even paranoia, just a matter of time.
The really sick part?

It will be my fault.

I mess things up. Always have, always will. I'm afraid to be happy. Afraid of success and of love. Because the second you surrender, and let yourself truly be happy, you're practically giving the universe permission to take it away.
Even if fucking up is stupid, at least it's within my control.

Cougar

I seem to have developed a slight crush

...on a younger man.

It happened accidentally.
He asked me to dance. And, in the dark, I mistook him for someone else.

Clearly, I need glasses

or to eat more carrots.

It was kind of my first time dancing "like that" with anyone.
Simply saying "yes" was the most uncharacteristically me thing I have ever done in my life.
I was probably possessed by alien zombie ghosts for a minute or two.
I honestly felt like I was watching someone far more courageous then me when it happened.

But I did say yes.

And I behaved more like a ho than I knew was possible.
Valuable lesson learned: teenage boys like hos.

A lot.

When I figured out he was not who I thought he was,
I wasn't sure whether to laugh,

or cry,

or die of shame.

So I just drank some punch;
And laughed.

A lot.

...Still laughing actually. ^-^

Even if it means he thinks horrible things about my morals, I hope he never finds out.
Cause I actually started talking to him.

And now I kinda like him.

Not to mention, thinking back on the dancing (without boring you with details), he was kind of adorable in the way he was.
Not to mention he likes me;

this is my number one desirable quality in a man.

If only I could get over the fact that he's younger. :/
It's not that he is so much, it's that he looks it.

I do not look it.

Not to mention I still really like the boy I thought he was.
Even though boy "A" seems to be kind of uninterested

...and a douchebag.

I hate douchebags.

They are so ineffective.
Especially in modern times.
I mean, even lemons work better.

But anyway...

angst, angst, angst

Why do I always get the confusing boys?
Maybe if I'm good this year Santa could pretty please bring me one I don't have to question.
That would be nice.


*writing style inspired by the thought process of one Miss Christina Spann

Every once in a while, creative genius sparks my fascination...

Real

This weekend has been amazing. The first time in forever that I had nothing, absolutely nothing I should be doing. I watched movies, did some catching up with an old friend, and even got to sleep in until 11 one morning. ...And then I decided to log into BYU, just on the off-chance that the grade for my Spanish final was up...big fucking mistake. Not only did I not pass, I got six percent worse then on my last final. I literally just stared at the computer screen in disbelief. I have spent six months of my life on that class - studied and slaved over a computer for hours, lied, cheated, battled, and stolen just to pass -and in the end it all means nothing. I guess that's just karma's way of saying "fuck you Katherine" because honestly, that's what I deserve after this weekend; clearly I didn't deserve to be that euphorically happy.

I began to cry. First it was just terror of my mom. How the fuck am I going to tell her? Because this unstoppable hurricane of tears, unmistakeable especially due to my unfortunately pale and rosy complection, is certainly going to give away the fact that something is wrong. I really thought that maybe this was it, that maybe now I would finally get to have a little bit of a life, that maybe for the first time since fall of sophomore year I would be ungrounded (I mean, I've even been getting along with my mom and everything); but I know this is going to be the last straw. At the very least I will be grounded until June, no phone, no car, no prom, and at the very most I could be kicked out outright. I'm literally just shaking in fear of what wrath I'm about to face.

The truly scary thing is the thought of the fact that there are scarier consequences for this than my mother. I may not get into college. I may not have a place to live in a few months, or a job to support myself, or a mode of transportation to get to my job, or hell, even access to a computer to make blog posts. I mean, I have always felt alone in this world, but I am just now realizing that in 174 days I will actually be alone. I may have just lost my entire future on one stupid semester of Spanish 3. Suddenly, I'm not waiting for a college acceptance letter, I'm just hoping for a space at the local community collge. Forget about being a journalist or an executive, let's pray that in this economy I can get a job as a waitress. Suddenly, I'm facing the fact that a future I was once so excited for might be gone- and the actual future has got me absolutely petrified. The future is no longer what I imagined, or hoped for, or planned. Because of one little mis-step, it is terryifyingly, undeniably, devastatingly real.