I haven't written in a while. I've just been really busy. Discovered Monday that a major project was due that day, which neither Jacob nor I had even really considered. And, today, I came to find that our lab write-up was due yesterday. So, I'm working on it now. I'm just glad Ms. Linsley likes me. I have no idea what I'm going to do about band. I still need to send Ms. Meng an email. I can't bring myself to tell her in face-to-face conversation. I hate disappointing her. The whole thing is more complex than Christina took it to be. That really stung, this morning. The shower is a good place to consider your future. I determined where I wanted to live, how exactly I wanted to manage things. Yeah, I've spent a lot of time working it over in my mind. Would you be surprised if I mentioned that home would involve cool weather and mountains? To the one who hates any temperature below 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't have enough time to enjoy my life as it is. This year will be the last of my freedom and enjoyment. I'm still planning on getting a bachelor's degree in two years. I should have enough hours from APs and a summer at the HCC to enter as almost a Sophomore. Then I just work at managing a nearly doubled workload. I know it's suicide. I'm almost out. This is wonderful. Father has become increasingly difficult. Everything he says to me, now, has an underlying sarcastic, or false, tone. Mum and I are sending him to counseling. Actually, we're going to trick him into it. We'll tell him it's me who's going in for counseling. And then turn the tables on him. He always came to my counseling sessions, if only to complain about me. Only an outsider to the situation is able to get any logic or sense through to my dad. He's very intelligent, just blind and deaf to the problems around him that are caused by him. Rather, he doesn't consider the possibility that he may be the cause of the tensions and strife within our family. Book room is scary. As soon as they mention hide-and-seek, I think I will run away. Far away. I don't like the dark. Got shot by a nerf gun in the neck from about a foot away today. Hurt like a word I will not say. Looked like a hickey, afterwards. And Eric is so rough. I'm going to have bruises on my neck from where he grabbed me. I don't try to get away because it tickles. Now, it's because it hurts. I wish he wouldn't do that, but I don't really want to complain. The whole jealousy thing between Andy and Jacob is hilarious. I mess with Andy far more than I mess with Jacob, though. I don't even know if Jacob is involved any more than that Andy thinks he is. I will admit to being amused. That movie was amazing. Bloody amazing. The greatest twist on Alice in Wonderland that I've ever seen. Go watch it. This 'it' is called Alice. It was on SyFy the last two nights. I'm going to buy it. Besides, it had the perfect ending. The ending that made me cry because it was exactly the sort of ending I would dream up. Besides, the Hatter character (Andrew Lee Potts) was adorable.   Isn't he adorable? Just for you girls (and maybe a guy or two) who are curious but don't actually want to go look him up. British actor. And...he's 30. Dang it. SEE SARAH! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!
We had to have that conversation in the book room today. Told her I wouldn't go past 29... How ironic. - Mood:amused
 - Music:Jack's Mannequin - Dark Blue
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Unusual, for me. Highly unusual.
Stayed home, today, to get work done. I was facing three days of little to no sleep, mainly due to The Aeneid and the German essay-exam. Tomorrow is going to be bad in terms of school work.
Did you know that tomorrow is also Andy's and my 'one-month'? It's exciting. Most people didn't know I was dating for that long. Some still don't realize that I'm dating someone, let alone who. Hah. It's amusing.
Like Kenneth towards him and Masha, I'm optimistic.
I finished my idea for a prom dress! Fashionable and scandalous, if I can manage it. Colours became inverted. Dark blue is not a good accent colour for white. And prom is not a wedding. I'll take my ideas to my dressmaker in a week or two.
I really, really hope Kenneth was wrong about it, for Andy's sake.
Thursday: Book room (2:20-3:30); Band rehearsal (3:30-5:00); Holiday in the Park (some time after)
Friday: Book room (2:20-4:00); Band banquet.
That's for me- so I remember. | |
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It's been a rough day.
Woke up, didn't feel the best. Managed to make it through church, though I was more interested in passing out because of my headache (and I felt hot, though it was freezing in the church). On the ride to lunch, we encountered quite a bit of traffic (thank you, oil industry), and my dad decided to get playful. (In other words, he drove badly. Accelerating too quickly, stopping suddenly.) I felt wretched. Still had the headache, still was too warm. And I get motion sickness over long periods of time. Dad's driving was speeding the process. I started mumbling that the driving was bothering me, and my dad turns on me. Well, against me. Griping at me about how I'm always feeling poorly, and maybe it's just an excuse for my complaining. Mum gets irritated with him for going after me, when I'm clearly turning green in the backseat. Sarcasm and fake smiles from him. Didn't make the ride to lunch any easier. During lunch, he mostly ignored me. He let me drive back to the mountain, at least. I mean, to the house. Secretly, I was trying to preserve myself. (Kimball decided to tease me; he was whimpering in the back. I'm quite a decent driver. Better on motorcycles, though.)
We got back, and my dad starts griping at my brother for getting a virus on his laptop, which he needs tomorrow (he's going to California for the week- FANTASTIC). Of course, he exaggerated and made an enormous deal of the silly thing, when all he needed to do was call the guy who works on his computers. He finally did it, and it's all working out. I was, actually, surprised that he got after my brother. (Kimball, it had seemed, was utterly perfect, far better than his flawed sister who, if her father had had his way, would be at an all-girls boarding school in Illinois for her imperfection. Because her mother was so intuitive, she fought against him on that. Her mother knew she'd snap and kill herself. If you want to get rid of her, you'll have to send her away with her cat. Then she'll endure her miserable life.)
Goodness, I abhor that wretched man. He can't accept me for who I am. He's convinced that I have a mental flaw, which causes me to be sick so often- though my doctors have told him that I have a low WBC count, and to be extra careful because my medications are lowering that already-too-low count. Blood tests are unpleasant.
8 more months. | |
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I wish I could cross my arms and cross your mind
'Cause I believe you'd unfold your paper heart and wear it on your sleeve
All my life I wish I broke mirrors instead of promises
'Cause all I see is a shattered conscience staring right back at me
I wish I had covered all my tracks completely 'cause I'm so afraid.
Is that the light at the far end of the tunnel or just the train?
Lift your arms; only heaven knows where the danger grows
And it's safe to say there's a bright light up ahead and help is on the way
Help is on the way
I forget the last time I felt brave; I just recall insecurity
'Cause it came down like a tidal wave, and sorrow swept over me
Depression, please cut to the chase and cut a long story short
Oh please be done. How much longer can this drama afford to run?
Fate looks sharp, severs all my ties, and breaks whatever doesn't bend
But sadly then, all my heavy hopes just pull me back down again
I forget the last time I felt brave, I just recall insecurity
'Cause it came down like a tidal wave, and sorrow swept over me
Then I was given grace and love; I was blind but now I can see
'Cause I found a new hope from above, and courage swept over me
It hurts just to wake up whenever you're wearing thin.
Alone on the outside, so tired of looking in
The end is uncertain and I've never been so afraid
But I don't need a telescope to see that there's hope,
And that makes me feel brave
I love Owl City.
You know what I love more?
The Masochism Tango.
I know I've shared it before, but not everyone's seen it and I really do adore it. It makes me giggle. So, before I start complaining about the cold, I figured I might as well clarify on something. It's always meant one thing to me, but I realized that it sounds different to everyone else. "Our house" or "our place" is, in all technicality, my grandmother's house. If you want to put it into more technical terms, you could call it First Security Bank's house, as it hasn't been payed off, yet. I'm pretty sure it's willed to us, though. We have a bigger "house". It's just not finished, yet. I've probably confused you worse. My grandmother bought the 2.5 acres of land next to us. We built the hangar (which still needs to get finished, but there's a long story behind that, which I'll get to in a minute), and my grandmother built her house. She claims that it's our house, not her house, and we've taken to calling it that. Now, as for the hangar, my dad is frugal. Of course, considering that the hangar costs about twice as much as a nice house, you could understand why he'd want to save money. He wanted to do the apartment area of the hangar himself to save money. But he's not a plumber, and he certainly doesn't have time to do the insulation and the sheetrock himself. He only just recently relented, and now we have insulation in the hangar area. No inside covering, yet, for the walls. We didn't do anything with it for an entire year. There are very few differences in it from a year ago (not counting the insulation). I just can't wait for the three-story apartment area to be done. However, he did have the area on which the house will be built, cleared. But they won't start building until I've graduated. Irritating because Kimball will get to spend most of his time in the lovely house they have planned. And I, very little. Not that Grandma's house isn't gorgeous. It's actually nearly exactly the sort of house I would want. (Except the center of the house is not a towering, two-story library with dark cherrywood bookshelves and an inside balcony framed by tall arching windows, covered by heavy drapes. Yes, I've thought it out.) There's my clarification. The picture was taken about an hour ago. I was sitting, reading, and I looked out the window only to be greeted by my own face. I'll have more pictures to post by the end of the day. I's rather pretty here, if remarkably bare. Just last month, poison ivy had covered the trees in thick blankets. Dangerous for me, but oddly beautiful. Brings back memories of last year, when my legs were covered from knee to ankle by the rash. Hurt badly enough that I had to wear shorts to school one day with my left leg wrapped up in a bandage. I still have scars from it. Lots of homework. I'm more productive in the early evening. When I'm here, I'm most productive between 11:00 pm and 4:00 am. (Everyone's asleep and I don't have distractions or other people bothering me.) I'm going to go out and enjoy the day, as warm as it's going to get. 61, now, I think. It was 27 when I woke. Still need the rubric for the English comparative essay. | |
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Thinking, again. (Kenneth would be proud.)
This time, about the intimacy of conversations.
It's a marvelous thing, to simply talk with no walls, no drawn lines, no specific areas of sensitivity. No boundaries.
That'll be a major hurdle.
It makes my chest hurt, just thinking about it.
(You may take 'chest' to mean 'heart', though I mean a physical pain, a constriction of the chest; anxiety.)
There are always topics that cannot be breached. Sensitive topics. Marriage. God. Maybe the future? Abuse.
Sensitive.
You know what I mean. Every relationship, whether in family, a friendship, or something more, there are always these boundaries. For someone like me, they fill him or her to the brim with anxiety until he or she bursts in the form of an anxiety attack. You know, hyperventilating, sobbing. That sort of thing. (I never truly understood how bad an anxiety attack could be until I took my first Calculus exam.)
Some times you've never spoken aloud- or even written- of certain things. Only two people know anything about what's behind my wall in terms of abuse. A bit about Keiron, too. (Not connected.) But I could speak of that to David because he understood. And it's so very difficult to say anything about it. To anyone. Not just because it hurts me and because it will hurt the person I tell it to, but because I remember very little aside from the actual feeling of pain, a few instances of being hit, and a few relatively short memories in the form of images. (And, here, the lyrics "Images scar my mind" come to mind. Anberlin. That song I liked. Dismantle.Repair.) My mind has the kindness to erase bad memories (the thing about Calculus and limits wasn't an exaggeration, if you were paying attention); I remember next to nothing about elementary school, and relatively little about middle school. I did know the answer to the question that was asked of me. The one I pointedly did not answer because "you don't want to know." I wasn't lying.
I have my own hurdle to overcome. It'll take a bit of time, I suppose. And a great amount of inner strength. I have enough willpower to greatly influence my mum. I think I can handle my own mind.
I do know how it works. I do know how difficult it is. I only wish it was not as it is.
I can jump the first in a set series of hurdles, but some are placed out of my range.
Disinterest, too, I understand. And I know when to back off and let it alone. | |
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I'm cold, now.
My windows are all closed, I'm wrapped up in a blanket, I have a warm laptop on my lap, and I'm still cold. Yet, earlier, in moments I could warm up. Let's blame it on body heat, and by that I mean my current lack of it.
8 hours.
Wow. I'm so lucky.
It's just rather shocking to find someone who wants to spend that sort of time with me and still be disappointed when I leave. It's rather difficult to smother a person like that. I'm sooner to be the one being smothered which, in the case, is nigh impossible. The only time I have to have to myself is my early mornings. Just my cat and me.
Today was perfect.
And, goodness, Andy can cook.
Something I've been wondering:
If you can't feel, how would you know your heart has broken?
I'm really not that brilliant. I just spend a large amount of my time thinking. We used to go to Arkansas nearly every weekend. A three hour plane ride. I couldn't always pass out (because I forgot Dramamine quite often), and I had to distract myself from the nausea. Other time, too. The 'imperfection' rantings of a demanding father. The moments I needed another distraction. It's how I avoid certain other thoughts. When it's warm at the mountain, I go outside and lay on the concrete of the driveway or taxiway and soak in the warmth while I think. Some times I come up with ideas for stories, rather than topics for theological debates.
Speaking of the plane ride, it will suck. It's cold. 15,000 feet higher, it's colder. Much colder. And I hate the cold. I've gotten physically sick from more than one below freezing plane ride. Yes, the heater is turned on. However, those in the front roast while those in the back freeze. Literally. It's not uncommon for me to see my breath in the back. There's a leak around the door seal. And that's where I have to sit due to weight distribution. It's the only time I dislike being 95-100 lbs.
So, I have a plan for tomorrow. Two blankets. Dramamine. AND sleeping pills. I'll be out for a good 12 hours. Maybe then the effects of the flight will not bother me. I hate getting ill from a three hour plane trip.
Arkansas is worth it. During the summer. Winter, not so much. I spend maybe an hour petting my dirt bike (not riding it- too cold) and then the rest of the time inside, curled up on a sofa, reading.
Okay, okay. Boring, Kristen.
I'm off to read a well-written FanFic. They do exist, and they're definitely worth reading.
Sweater! Fresh out of the dryer. Mm. Still doesn't beat Andy. - Mood:cold
 - Music:Anberlin - The Feel Good Drag
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Better day. Definitely.
I still don't think one should cut off friends to get closer to one's girlfriend or boyfriend. But there's not anything I can do aside from hiding how much it hurts. He used to call me every night... Even when he was with Wendi. And I still don't think she's special enough to take David away from me. Not to mention that an old promise of sorts is nothing when compared to a sudden request from Wendi, almost on a whim. Ouch.
You won't see me cry over it again.
Oh. There went my happy mood.
I have to get up really early tomorrow to go to the animal clinic. Lottie has several ingrown claws. If they get long enough, they curl inwards and cut into the pads. Poor Lottie. They'll have to be cut out of her pads. I'd been telling my dad for the past year or two that our cats' claws were too long. Of course, he didn't listen to me. Not as if I worked at an animal clinic for 9 months or anything. 'Course not.
I'm not looking forwards to returning, though.
So. I started as a volunteer. Worked for 6 or 7 months. They said they'd hire me when I turned 16 (legal issues). Turned 16. They hired some other kid who got so many complaints due to laziness. My coworkers put words in for me. And were ignored. Kept the lazy kid. Complained about him some more. I worked 2 or 3 more months. Volunteering. Marching season. I left. I'd had enough of the system, and plenty of hours. I still miss the guys, though. Just makes it awkward coming back.
I don't really have a choice, though. My father can't stay. Someone has to look after my mum's cat.
And you're just in luck; your daughter's the aspiring vet in the family. Just look past the fact that she's been sleeping irregular hours, and rather poorly at that. The bags under her eyes? Put on more makeup.
Bitter. I know.
It's my father.
What else would you expect?
I have only one thing to look forwards to.
Wait. No. Two. The first comes tomorrow. Hopefully, the second comes after the first. (The second being death.)
After reading too much, you go a bit crazy. I've been thoroughly convinced that Heaven is far better than this Hell we call 'Earth'. The Hell is placed entirely in these wretched human emotions. Dead, you probably don't feel. Wouldn't that be nice?
I'm just complaining.
Jason was right. The new AFI album isn't that different. I'm already bored with it. Yet I can still go back and listen to Decemberunderground and Sing the Sorrow. They never get old. The new album is generic. I can't stand generic. It's why I hate/ abhor/ detest classic rock. Oh yes. I hate it. It is, in my opinion, one of the greatest evils of humankind. Of course, the decrepit generation also thought that about rock and roll (which implies sex, but what's wrong with that?).
I could write a story about that. Generica.
Speaking of stories, I need to finish Brigitte's.
That'll come after the prom dress. I get a headache just thinking about it. I need to go to the Galleria, the source of every migraine I've ever had. I need to see how certain dresses look on me. Cut around the neck in particular... I just need to find someone who knows style and enjoys shopping. It would be rad if I could nab Christina and David Yang for a day. I don't have the time for it, and I doubt either of them does, either. It'll probably end up just my mum and me.
My tangents have been exhausted. To bed!
I am, still, excited about tomorrow. I've been thinking about Saturday all week. Hah!
You know how you feel as though you can never actually get close enough to him or her?
It's just because you still have your clothes on. - Mood:tired
 - Music:AFI - Beautiful Thieves
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Honesty, especially in something like that, is desired. Especially if you disagree with the girl. Because, if you haven't noticed, girls have wretched images of themselves thanks to the advertising and commercial industry. Not to mention the porn industry. (Just throwing it out there.)
Yesterday was fantastic and depressing. Depressing because it should have been David sitting next to me, giggling with me, gasping, tearing up, teasing. But it wasn't. Still upsetting me.
Fantastic (and amazing) because I got to spend time with Andy (and the A3 <3 ). The second part of the date was not depressing in the least. Partially because I wouldn't have done that with David, partially because of the chocolate involved, and mostly because of Andy. And that encompasses the second half; I did not allow room for a third part. Of course, the feeling of shame will have to be overcome.
I picked up Anne Rice's novels. They're wonderful. Of course. The original vampire stories beat the warm-and-fuzzy-feeling teen vampire novels. I need another bookcase.
Tired. But my homework is done.
Need to start on the etudes. I might spend my lunch time working on them.
Oh! And I get to take my saxophone with me to the mountain this week.
Two days of school. One more night of homework.
You can still smell the memory, as odd as it sounds.
I've been learning to keep from smothering him. :P
Don't know why I put that together in a paragraph.
Back to my book. - Mood:uncomfortable
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And he doesn't understand.
Not that I expected anything different.
Sheng is the closest to understanding without actually grasping the full concept.
No one can really take David's place, though I give them ample opportunity to prove that there is a possibility. | |
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I got a packet from A&M about a week or two ago. Read the letter that was inside. Put everything else to the side to deal with in a week or two.
My mum came in this morning/afternoon to ask about what other colleges I was going to apply to. I scoffed and told her "None." She was concerned that I wouldn't get into A&M and wouldn't have anything to fall back on. Then asked when I'd get an acceptance or deinal from A&M. I told her maybe in December or January.
"Oh! And I got something from them a week or two ago. It's over on my desk."
She picks up the letter. "Kristen, I didn't know you were accepted."
"Huh?"
Honestly, I had no clue.
That's how brain-dead I've been for the past two weeks.
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