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