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.