Not Studying for Finals

So this week something very important happened. After three long, desolate, nearly Saharan weeks, I got internet on my computer again. Naturally, it was time to cause a ruckus. But aside from annoying the shit out of strangers, stalking photo web-sites, and being indirectly cyber-bullied (no es bueno), I watched movies. A lot of movies. As a matter of fact I am contemplating spending the next four days of my very free life watching as many movies as I possibly can. And in a very non-traditional sense, I would like to review, not only the plots, but what I have learned:

• Obsessed (4) -In one sentence: crazy ass white chick tries to fuck up some black dudes life. Homegirl was a straight-up 51/50, no lie. Definitely not the greatest movie of my life, but it had some good moments of thrills and definately kept me entertained for a few hours. Lessons learned: the first time that sexy girl at the office tries to rape you, let someone know & do not be a chicken shit babysitter too scared to do her job cause you need to get back to your tech-fest.
  
• The Babysitters (5) - Not only is this one of the most twisted films I have ever seen, it is also one of my favorites. Basically this high school girl finds herself accidentally starting a prositution ring in which her friends/girls/hos/whatever-you-want-to-call-them babysit a married mans kids and then have sex with him while he's giving them a ride home (well not while he's driving cause that'd be dangerous; they usually at least pull over, haha); until eventually some whorey little freshman get involved and fuck up the opperation. The whole film is just this amazing post-grundge indie depiction of adolescence. This girl starts out as a tame little wall flower, and emotionless sex combined with the power and greed of money as well as the fear of legal trouble corrupted, jade, and cheat her out of her innonce and a normal life; and even in these incredible complex adult situations she finds herself in and no matter how grown up you come to believe she is, no matter how grown up any teenager is, by the end of the film you come to realize that she is in way over her head - teenagers can look, walk, talk, act, think, and even feel like adults, but they are not adults. There are so many more points I could make about this movie but honestly, if you can handle some rather crude language and sex scences I recommened watching it yourself - this film definately leaves you thinking.
  
• Passengers (3)- I was initially a bit upset because the summary of this film made it sound like a three but the majority of it's emphasis was on a rather unusual love story. Dispite some misrepresentation however, this was actually a decent film. Rather unconventionally cute love story about two people who seem as if they belonged together in any reality. The overly-chesy ending killed it a bit, but there were lots of good messages about coping mechanisms not to mention Anne Hathaway did a wonderful job.
• Sex and Death 101 (4)- Another movie that ended differently than I expected. It was not the best film I've ever seen (certainly a lot of unknown actors) but overall I like it. It discussed a lot of common themes about life and destiny and making your own fate with out being repetitive. So might argue it was slightly morbid, but I rather enjoyed the various plot twists. Worth watching.
• Water Lillies (5)- Aside from The Babysitters, this is the most fucked up love story I've seen since The Other Boelyn Girl. The basic plot is about the romanctic escapades of two best friends: Marie and other-girl-whose name-I-didn't-really-care-about-so-lets-call-her-Nan-cause-she-kinda-looks-like-my-fat-aunt, and this on-again off-again couple Floraine and Francios (did I mention this was a French film?). So "Nan" is quite obsessed with Francois who is yet another victim of the lustful Floraine. Throughout the film Nan's best friend Marie is enduring this personal struggle of realizing and embrassing her homosexuality as she falls in love with Florine. Florine is this epervescent temptress who we never really understand; she seems geniune at moments with her feeling for both Francois and Marie, but the underlying thought seems to be is that what Florine really cares about is Florine. Technically it would be inaccurate to say that both Nan and Marie lose their virginity, but they do both certainly loose there innoncence as they learn that love hurts, and sometimes no matter how desperately you beg and plead, even the most apparently perfect of people may never be what you want them to be - you can either take them as they are an accept the torment, or find the courage through your heartache to move on (and ultimately it seems your best friend will be their for you no matter what you decide). Not your standard family film (although for a French film, especially considering the subject matter, it was extremly tame), but it was definately intriguing.
• Sugar & Spice (3)- I'm going to admit, I am biased - I have never not loved a cheerleader movie (...well except for those horrible attempts at Bring It On sequels) nor have I disliked many surrounding popular kids. While this happy-go-lucky tale was definately more glitz than depth and a definate low in comparassion to scadal-rific classics like Jawbreaker and The Heathers, it was definately a decent teen film. The characters were relatively static, but they each had unique and well-woven quirks that intertwined to add some depth to an otherwise shallow plot. Not bad if you feel like a few well-knowns in a teeny-bopper flick.

I will probably add more to this list tomorrow when I finish watching a few, so stay tuned.

luke-warm

I hate watching things go to waste
Like a cup of hot chocolate purchased before first period

Your teacher makes you leave it outside, in the cold

You set it down regretfully,
It's tantalizing aroma making it almost painful to let go of the warmth

You eye it there in it's perfect Starbucks cup, hoping that maybe, just maybe it will wait for you

Class is useless
The simmering beverage is all you think about:
You long to see it again,
You can almost taste the chocolatey-goodness;
But when you go outside, you find that it has changed

Most of the warmth is gone
It is not yet frigid, but somehow not quite the same

A sad little lukewarm brown cup is all that remains

You wish you could fix it somehow,
But you're too lazy to find a microwave

So you leave it there,
Try to let it go, and move on with your day

Poor little cup of wasted potential,
A consumerist reminder of what almost was

1-12-10

There's really no way to define this post except by the date.
I could probably write at least 6 different posts about today.
I think I'll just stick with one that's a disorganized journal-style mess however if that's alright.

It's finals week. I'm not really sure I got the memo. It didn't really occur to me until I sat down in my Spanish test today (which I bombed, in case you were wondering). I should actually be studying for the two major ones I have tomorrow right now...but...that's not really my prerogative.

Hung out with my best friend's boyfriend today after "school". It was good because even though I know him, I feel like I don't really know him and I really am trying to. We share someone very important in common and so I really want to be his friend, but it still kind of feels like that's the only thing we have in common. It's weird because I'm usually really good at being friends with couples; I think it's just a matter of time. I'm not the kind of person who can just fall into a social situation. As control freak as it is, I work very hard at developing and maintaining the relationships I have with people. So hopefully I will get there soon. I realized in retrospect some part of me is hesitant about how I feel with him being with my best friend. (I mean, he's awesome; but is he good enough for her?) I think mostly that was just my own weird though. Certainly didn't help that I was sitting there at a park with him a few hundred feet from school helping him lite his cigarette. Especially didn't help that it was only the second time in my life I have actually seen one up close (and was therefore freaked out) and he was waving it around like it was nbd. Which it probably wasn't; but to me it was (not that he would know that or that I would want him to).

The whole drive home I was thinking about how much my perceptions/tolerance levels have changed lately. When I entered high school, I was very strictly straightedge. I was against drugs and alcohol and everyone that did them. When I realized how many people actually do however, the line got blurry. Just because my drug-addict of a father's self-medicating marijuana habits have been toxic to his life, and in my experience, the way he treats me, doesn't make every user a bad person. I even seriously consider trying some stuff a while back. Though I'm still uncomfortable with the whole illegal substances stuff, the line is definately more blurry and everything more situational now (I hear this is a sign I'm growing up). And I realize how grateful I am to have gotten some real world experience this year in an environment I can control. Because had I not, I think I would've been so shell-shocked next year I would never have left my dorm. ...Probably still will be, but that we can handle later, haha.

For the last two hours I've pretty much just been chilling, watching tv. Sometimes I feel so incredibly lame. I know I'm probably not, but I feel like I'm the only 17 year old who sits home alone eating chocolate chips, yelling at the television set when the main characters do something stupid. I love my time home alone though. I think it's the one time in the world where I feel happiest. There's no one around to judge me; I can actually just be myself.

Then I logged into blogger and noticed internet boy updated his. Really and truly do not want to turn this into some sort of secret message code writing bullshit though so I think I'll try to avoid that. I will say that it was incredibly nice to actually see myself mentioned among the other girls he always writes about (even if he did get a few things wrong).

Should probably get back to internet sleuthing, watching The Secret Life, and texting. Just another fabulous day in my fascinating life *rolls eyes* haha.

Peace.

Crush(ed)

I've always had trouble with the concept of crushes.
I like someone... But no, wait, I can't like him...But wait, do I like him?...I think I like him...If I really do like him then should I be asking myself if I really like him? ...And so on and so forth.
I've come to multiple revelations about this as of late that finally just clicked in my head as a complete theory. You see, I fall a little in love with every boy I meet. When I think about it, I can name maybe two of my guy friends who I didn't have a slight crush on at some point in time. And when I think about this guy I just dealt with recently, I realize that I tend to go for guys who are imperfect. Even though I never really had him, loosing him hurt so much simply because I was so smitten with his perfection. When boys have flaws, your heart is safe because someday, when you lose them, you can just remember the flaws and it will be okay. I'm not sure I could survive it if a boy I really did like ever broke my heart.
Whether it's self preservation or self deprivation, I'm not really sure. But I think I'm going to have to follow the system until I'm at least a little stronger.

Settling

So in opening my Spanish book today I discovered a letter that I must've written some time ago. I actually don't remember the specifics, or even ever writing it, but it is in my hand writing and I do vaguely recall the sentiment. Thought I would post. here goes:


I really wish I could talk to you right now. My world just seems to be crashing in around me; I just want to hide in the warm comfort of your voice. It's not just dealing with my mom and feeling my soul slowly die in the hell they call high school. It's like, I use to be able to do this - to pretend at least; but I'm done. Done with wasting days of my life away under someone else's command. Done with these petty people and their petty problems.

The thing I didn't realize I was afraid of til just now, is the uncertainty of the future. For the most part, I'm eager and excited...but what if I never really escape? What if I find I'm just as bored and unable to learn in college? What if the world is just high school and the most exciting thing I get to deal with on a daily basis is my cat? I kind of thought I was better than that. I know I wanted more for myself than that.

It's kind of one of the things that worries me about "us". I see the life you have planned out for yourself. It's very ordinary and stable and I respect that. You will probably work in the same field your entire life, live in the same city even - you have a direction. But I want more than that. I want to travel, and shake things up, and never live the same day twice. The thing is, the more I start to care about you, the more I simplify my life goals: state schools, more common career goals, community college even. I don't know if you're the catalyst, or merely a symptom of a greater problem; but I'm concerned.

I don't want to spend forever with you. I don't want to settle myself into the comfortability of your, or anyone else's dreams, just because it's easier then trying to realize and accomplish my own. I want more than that in life, more than you. But the more I fall for you, the more my world crashes and your love seems like the only light in the distance, the easier it is to forget this - the more tempting it is to just settle my heart in the comfort of yours and seek refuge from the big bad world.

Him

There is him that I lost and have since forgotten.
There is him that I foolishly chased.
That is him that I love; always have, always will.
There is him that loves me - another matter completely.
There is him that I want but can't seem to make mine.

Let's talk about sex...

Today I found myself in a very interesting circumstance. We're in history class and I'm sitting in group of girls telling sex stories. This is fairly typical so I didn't think much of it until one of the girls kind of called me out and I realized I was the only virgin in the rather substantial assembly (*awkward turtle*). I found this realization to render an interesting range of emotions.

Firstly, I felt left out. I suddenly realized what a friend of mine had been talking about when they said how once you're in college if you're still a virgin you feel so left out because everyone's "doing it" and you're missing out. It was like they were in some super secret grown up club that united them despite the various social tiers incorporated in the conversation and once again I was just the awkward girl in the corner (not to mention I was, ironically, physically in the corner).

Following this minuet moment of implicit peer pressure leaving me desperately wishing I could join in, I found a second feeling: gratefulness that I wasn't these girls. Not all of them; some of them were in stable, long term relationships (one of whom may be reading this and whom I have very much respect for); but the three doing most of the talking, all of whom I like but none of whom I am close with, used various boys names, making it obvious that there sexual experiences were broad-based and leaving a rather whorish impression. I wouldn't want to be that. As much as I sometimes wish I was more experienced, I wouldn't want to have been with that many guys by the time I was 17.

Not too mention the worry. There's constantly some girl at my school who's worried she might be pregnant, or diseased, or that her so-called boyfriend is also sleeping with someone else. It all just seems like so much drama.

I think the whole thing was really just a wake up call for me. Without too much elaboration, sex is something that has been on my mind the last few months. If given the opportunity, what would I do? And I think I was kind of receiving a lot of pressure from someone to make me think more and more that I would do it, that that was what I wanted. After today I realized it wouldn't be what I wanted at all.

I've never been a "wait until marriage" kind of girl or anything, but listening to these girls I realized it is definitely not something I'm ready for. All the little stresses that it has added to their lives that they now just consider normal, I don't want to deal with that. Soon I am going to be 18, and for once in my life I am finally just going to be able to have myself as my only responsibility. I really am looking forward to that. I need that little bit of selfish before I jump into committing myself to someone else.

I'm starting to realize that I'm not going to be the somewhat promiscuous 20-something I always kind of saw myself becoming; but I'm also starting to be okay with that. So what if I don't kiss a boy til I'm 18, or even til I'm 25? ...Life does a good job at giving me what I want when the time is right. I think I can probably be patient til then.

Quilting

Warning: This is going to be a long post.

With that being said, I feel so terrible frazzled as of late. It's like there's so many things going on in my life. The range of emotions and subjects, my ADD-afflicted brain just can't seem to maintain a single strand of coherent thought. It's the one thing I will never be able to master in life I worry: life itself - how to sort it all out, process it all, and maintain one person. I feel like I have so many different lives, like odd bits of mis-matched fabric, but I have no idea how to sew them all together just yet.

So first we have life here. My horrid little house. I had quite a lovely break (well compared to how breaks generally go at least). My mom and I actually got along for the time that my brothers were gone (shocked me too). Every time it's just me and her I actually start to see the humanity in her. She really isn't a bad person, or even as hateful as I thought she was; she just hates being a mother so much - the burden, the responsibility, the way it all just reminds her of my dad and how much she hates him. Sure enough, like clockwork, when the responsibility of my brothers returned, so did her bad attitude. I wish I knew how to help her, how to unlock the real person inside her that has been trapped by a monster of hate for so long; but the fact of the matter is that I don't and I can't. The hateful person that she is for the most part is toxic and it's becoming harder and harder for me to refrain myself around her path of destruction. I really need to get out of here as soon as I can before the bottomless pit consumes me too I'm afraid.

The second subject is college. I'm starting to get just a little terrified I won't get anywhere. I applied to about 18 schools over break (I will be doing about 26 total), but despite the large number, the fact of the matter is, the majority of those schools are out of my league. It's really starting to get to me the fact that I don't know where I will be living in a year. I will be on my own, financially supporting myself and I may very well end up stuck in Monterey just like most of the other girls who graduate from my school. For now I'm just looking at applying to some other (easier) places and praying that April comes quickly, bringing with it good news.

A really exciting tidbit in my life is that I asked my best friend to prom last night. It's a million years away (or at least it feels like it) and the odds of it actually working out are against us, but he was really excited when we talked about it so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Naturally I stumbled across the perfect dress last night and literally have been accessorizing it in my head all day (one might say I'm just a tad excited myself). I really just wish he wasn't quite so confusing. We have been best friends for three years now, and his story has always been that I am his sister and he doesn't like me in any other way, but I don't know. It's like three years ago, or even this time last year, I would've been begging for him to like me; but last night when crossed the line ever so slightly, telling me that I was beautiful and stuff he really doesn't do normally unless he's trying to cheer me up, I don't know, it's just like the one boy who I thought I had figured out might be more complicated then I thought. Even if I don't like the way things are, I can accept the concrete, it's these messy confusing "eh, well, I'm not really sure how I feel and it's conditional and might change" sort of things that I just can't deal with.

Which brings me to my next point: internet boy. He reminded me the other night that he reads these, which makes me slightly apprehensive about posting anything about him. I am not one for hidden messages, if I have something to say to someone I say it to them. I don't use code behind backs, which makes me feel a little hypocritical for writing things about him (clearly I over think a lot, haha); but I have been writing this long before him and will be long after him and this is the place I figure things out. I could use a little figuring out right now. He still confuses me. I have been saying that since the day that I met him, and even now, now that I consider him one of my close friends, I am still at a complete loss. I was doing so good. I was not thinking about him and living my own life the way it should be and then bam, we talk on New Years. We talk on New Years and it's three hours, going to bed at 4 AM, just like old times. And just like old times I suddenly can't stop thinking about him. What's he up to? Is he thinking about me? And even though he claims he cares about me I still wonder how much he actually means it (and don't read too much into that statement when you read this babe, cause I know you will at some point and I'm honestly just freaking like I do right now). I really don't know that I will ever totally figure things out with him. This list of facts I do know (like that I like whatever it is that we are and he's someone I want in my life) are the ones that will have to hold it together 'til I do I suppose.

And amongst everything, I've been thinking a lot about 8th grade lately. It really was horrible how much I blocked out. But slowly it's been coming back in pieces. I'm starting to remember that there were some good times mixed in there with the bad. Hanging out with Lisa lately makes me realize it too. In some ways I feel so much older hanging out with her, like I've grown up a lot; but at the same time, quiet people like her still tend to make me act like an over-talkative idiot (but then again, I'm really not very good at interacting one-on-one with other human beings in general). But through it all I feel like I am better for the most part. I think right now my life is so dangerously parallel to that horrible year, and somehow even though I don't immediately feel stronger or anything, when I look at things in retrospect I realize I handle things so much better now. Even when I want to cut or take a few too many pills (neither of which I have ever actually done, so don't panic readers, I'm okay) or do something harmful I am so much farther from the edge then I once was. I'm so much better at finding the positive and maintaining control of my life now.

Lately, for the most part, I feel like even though I'm a chaotic, frantic, upset mess sometimes, I've got a lot of hope. It's hard to think about everything I've missed and everything I will miss in life as the prospect of being an adult soon has forced me to do; but there will still be adventures. No, I will never get to have a boyfriend in high school, or go to a homecoming, or have a crazy house party while my folks are out of town, but there is still time and stuff I can do and sometime soon, it will actually be up to me to decide what it is.

Jagged

The fact of the matter is, I am presently in a very bad way. It's 1:30 in the morning and I lie awake, tears blurring my vision, flooding my face. The thing I want most right is now is a razor blade. I want to slowly drag the sharp edge of it's blade along my slendor wrist and watch the blood trickle out. And again. And again. I want the wounds to be deep, to scar - a perminant reminder of the freak that I am.

I used to be good at sad. I grew up crying myself to sleep at night. Any amount of verbal or physical abuse, I felt I could endure. But I've grown weak. My life is relatively good lately; so much better than it once was. Yet after all I have survived, one little rejection and am left devastated, panting in horrific, deep, empty sobs.

Its not even that he did anything. It's what I did. I fucked it up. Again. Like I always do. Things were going great, and then I made it awkard. He figured out, like all of them do, that I am weird.
The thought leaves me crying out in agony. No one wants me. No one ever has, no one ever will. Not my parents, not a boy. Like a traitorous spy I am without a home, without a country. I don't belong anywhere. I'm a freak. The pure and simple fact is that I will always be alone in this world.

I have plenty of people that love me. I could call any given number of them right now, let them care for me, reassure me. But I am not there problem. It really is all so trivial. There are, in fact, people in this world with actual hardships to face. Besides, no matter how much I love my friends, and how kind-hearted and honest the sweet comforting sentiments, they can't love me the way I need them too. I've been told from a very early age that the hole inside of me cannot be filled. It will only be so long before I fall for someone else and mess it up again. The enevitable. It makes me hate myself. And my friends (though I love them) can't fix it. So I put the phone down, and with much too much sense for action, lie awake, envisioning the blade of the razor on the second shelf of the righthand side of my bathroom cabinet, imagining the feel of it's cool, sharp metal - turning it's edges over and over in my mind.

Not So TGIF

So I've got a confession. One that could not only damage my street cred, but one that could totally cost me social acceptance as a teen...
...Wait, who am I kidding? I have never had street cred or social acceptance...
Well in that case, I hate Fridays. Despise, dread, detest, abhor. They are the black hole of my existence. I pull into my driveway after a long week and realize that the second I get out of my car, I will have no joy until the next Monday. My 2.3 day break will consist of homework, mild technological social interactions, sleep, and incessant battles with my mother for my life spark. If I'm lucky I will get some sort of delicious high calorie food, and maybe an episode of Vampire Diaries. I will have no privacy, no time to listen to music, and no peace the second I enter my house.
I complain only because it is: a) presently an extremely bitter Friday after a horrible week, and b) because it's gotten bad - bad as in to a place where I don't even want to check Facebook on Fridays because I don't want to see all the fun everyone else is having. (Plus I know if I log on I will just end up alienating someone through all my life-sucks-and-then-you-die, I-hate-the-world *coughcough* I mean, winning optimism *fake smile*.)
Mostly, it's manageable. On Fridays, I avoid the computer, turn off my phone and go to bed at 8. Saturdays and Sundays I do everything in my power to sleep in as late as possible. But some mornings I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, thinking how absolutely pathetic it is that I can't bring myself to get out of bed because I have absolutely nothing I will even remotely enjoy to look forward to.