Sex Pt. 2

I was watching the Breakfast Club last night and it got me thinking. Why do so many people use sex as a weapon?

Sex is probably the most personal thing that two people can do together, and society treats it as a huge power trip. First of all, everyone is judged as to whether or not they have ever had sex. Many men are looked down on for being virgins, while women are celebrated for being virgins. However, the judgement doesn't end here. Then, it becomes all about the circumstances surrounding the sex: I overheard one of my friends say, in a very condescending tone, "yeah but I've only had sex when I loved someone. It's different." Literally what the fuck? You have zero right to judge anyone else based on how she prefers to have sex. Then, people are judged on the number of people that they've had sex with. Then, they're judged on how good they are in bed. This is just the beginning of the list, by the way.

Seriously? What the actual fuck is going on here? Using this post to judge is highly hypocritical, but I think that people shouldn't judge other people on the amount of sex they are having in their lives, and in what capacity. End of story.

I have friends in every position. Some have drunkenly lost their virginity to strangers. Some want to wait until they're married. One of my best friends had her virginity taken when she was blacked out, aka rape. One girl I talked to about the matter said that she lost her virginity to her best friend, and it was one of the best decisions she ever made.

Personally, as the author of this, I don't think it matters that I tell you about myself, but I will anyways, for those of you that care. I'm a sexual person, but I'm a virgin. Some of my best friends have doubted the fact, and I've had to seriously convince one person in particular that I haven't ever slept with anyone. I think that sexuality is an aspect of a relationship that is important, and also completely up to the two people in that relationship. Everybody's sex isn't anybody's business but theirs, and the person they're having sex with. If that other person is their right hand, then all power to them.

I just don't understand what the big fuss is about sex. Everybody's entitled to their own choices, and everybody has the right to be unjudged by those around them. Thanks for listening to my two cents.

Overpacking

I'm notoriously bad at riding public transit, traveling, and getting around in general. Not that I'm late, although that does happen sometimes. Also not because I get lost or anything like that, because I can generally figure out where I'm going and not look like a complete tourist while doing so. I can transfer from busses to trains to other trains without too mug stress, but there is one problem I always seem to have, and that's that I consistently overpack. There really isn't a time where I don't. Now, some of you may argue that if this is my biggest problem taking public transit, then I'm doing okay. And you'd be correct in saying that! But let me just give you an example of what I'm talking about. Today, as we speak, I'm on a train to see my friend who lives a little bit away. It's a trip solely for pleasure, but it's bookended by essentially a two hour commute either way. I had to take a bus, a train, then transfer to another train and he's going I meet me at that platform (I did actually buy the wrong ticket for the second train but that's really beside the point). When I was preparing for this trip, I figured I might as well bring something to do on the train. I have a math final on Thursday, so I figured I would bring my notes. Simple, right? No. I ended up bringing three notebooks and a folder (since apparently my notes are just that scattered, and I have my friend's notes as well), as well as Plato's Republic. Which no, I don't even need to read. Have I looked at any of this once since I started on my journey at 8 am? No. I've played Flight Controller on my iPod.

I Can't Sing Anymore

I wish I were kidding. Singing is my number-one favorite thing to do, and I can't do it anymore. I lose my voice too much since I came to Berkeley, I've been half-sick for the past three months, and every single person I run into asks if my voice has changed. Which I didn't think it had but I guess I was wrong. Turns out, I can't sing anymore because my voice is 100% kaput.

I'd like to think that I was good at it at some point, but I just watched two YouTube videos and I can tell you that I cringed. Pitchy vowels all over the Star Spangled Banner, whiny tone, got it all. Literally so bad. But then again I'm the most critical of myself, so what can I say?

I haven't completely abandoned. I just wish that I was able to sing and didn't lose my voice so much.

Cali Girl at Heart

Okay, it's official.

I hate everything that being at home means. I thought that it was just a slight feeling, because that's all it was in California. But when I came home? Everything came crashing down around me. I thought that the break from school would rejuvenate me and make me appreciate both home and school life more, but I was completely wrong. I should have known from the moment I started spilling tears in the airport, but apparently that was too large of a realization for me to make. I guess I always thought that I should want to go back, because all of my friends at school wanted to go back, and all my friends at home wanted to see me. I thought I should feel some obligation to reminisce about the people and the place that I spent eighteen years of my life with.

Turns out that obligatory feelings are not at all valid, especially to me in this situation. I feel like a caged animal in this hellhole that's supposed to be my home. My family was visiting for a while, meaning there were constantly seven people in my house, with two satellite family friends always there that brought the total to nine. It was utterly stifling. I didn't even have the solitude of my room, and I was trying to see everyone that still wanted to see me. This was stressful and oddly emptying. It also manifested in a few things.

I want to get back to California more than ever. I want my friends there, my life there, my mentality there.

My mother is the bane of my existence at this point. She doesn't understand me, and because of that I can be unfair to her, I know that. But it's really hard when I'm in such a bad mood all the time that I'm home.

I think that my locality caused me to be unhappy for so many years. I can't stand it now, after being happy for so long, and I can't imagine how I lasted for so long in it without a break.

I have no idea what I'm going to show my friends from California when they come here. I have next to nothing here that makes me happy, and so how I can show them things here that are supposed to enrich their lives is utterly beyond me.

I need to move on mentally. Everything here is just dragging me down and I don't know how much longer I can deal with the psychological weight of the past on me. I was able to cast it off while at college because I was in a new setting. But every time I speak to someone here, I'm reminded of the fact that I left everything behind here for a reason. Because all the same things that I don't want keep being brought up. Every. Fucking. Conversation. I need to get out of here, and I mean for good. I can't have some ghosts of my past wandering around every single time I come home. I can't do it. I'm trapped here and I wouldn't be complaining except for the fact that I know so, so much better.

I need to truly and genuinely thank every single person that got me out of this place. Three months ago, I didn't know how large of thanks they truly deserved, and so I couldn't adequately thank them. But I can now, because I went away and I realized that I am never coming back.

My dad's thankful for the time that he's spending with me, and is handling the whole situation with poise and grace. My mom, on the other hand, is trying to buy my love. Which is so sad. My sister is spending all the time with me that she can, but she's grateful to have me home and she's also independent. My family friend who's like my sister is simply as desperate for attention as she always was, no shock there.

I just want to be home. To my real home. In California. Where there's potential for me in every respect of my life. Love, academia, friendships, future potential, I can't end the list. Take me back to Berkeley.

This is Different.

In my life up until now, I really was never one to go on dates. I dated lots of guys, but usually we just casually hung out and then they asked me out as their girlfriend, then we went on dates. My past boyfriend didn't even take me on a proper date until like three months in. It just wasn't how we did things. But that all changed this weekend, when this sophomore asked me out. Let's call him S.

S messaged me on Facebook, telling me he really enjoyed hanging out with me over the last few weeks at my sorority's brunch (he also spent half an hour trying to find me at our date night because he wanted to say hello), and that we should go for coffee sometime. Major freakouts ensued. This was Friday night and I've been texting him ever since, pretty much all weekend. He's hilarious, attractive, a high school theater and show choir dork, taller than me, and can dance. So basically I'm already hooked. He's on YouTube, for christsake, dancing to Usher. Come ON. So now I'm sitting in Sociology class (don't even get me started on it) after being woken up at 8:30 in the fucking morning because someone decided to saw our hallway in half to fix the fire alarm system. I got mad, so I channeled my anger/nerves into laundry and dishes. Then I got pretty. How domestic of me.

The date is exactly an hour from now and I cannot believe how nervous I am. It's just coffee. Just coffee. I can do this, I've had coffee with tons of friends before. But for some reason, I'm nervous out of my mind. Because I feel like S is just too much of a catch for me. He's perfect in my mind, and that's making me so nervous because I'm all over the place. What. I'm making myself sick to my stomach, and that only happened once before, on a math test.

Doctor Update

Remember MD? Well, here's the thing.

I really had a thing for him, and it's only gotten more profound. Because when I get drunk, I like to talk to my Big about it. By the way, up until now, I didn't know that K was my Big. I found that out last weekend. This is important.

Long story short, K threw me a party for when it was officially announced that I was her Little. Naturally, it was at her boyfriend's frat and he told everyone about it. She got a handle and some cranberry juice and some beer for all of us, which was good. It turned less-good when I lost a game of Snappa, completely drunk at this point, and found myself upstairs, alone, with the remainder of the handle and MD, or Doctor.

I say less-good because there was so much alcohol in our systems it wasn't funny. But objectively, alcohol aside, this was the best fucking thing ever, because I totally wanted to make out with his face. But even in my raspberry Smirnoff daze, I knew that I had to be sly. So we set out to finish the handle, which actually turned mostly into him finishing the handle, because I was drunk as fuck. We got to talking about our lives, really intently. I told him things that only my closest friends back home know about me, and he was the first one in California that I told. It was amazing and a total bonding experience.

Earlier in the night, K had said that when her and P (her boyfriend) decided that they were both taking Littles (this was before they knew who we were), they determined that they would either be best friends or in love. This is relevant for later.

Back to Doctor and I in the room. We kept talking, and his pledge brother was being a dick, but hey, what can you do. He was jealous I was paying attention to Doctor and not to him. Boys will be boys. But eventually, I found myself nose-to-nose with Doctor, and I found myself saying "I'm not sure whether we should be best friends or making out right now."

Now I know you're all thinking it- "Wow, what a line! Props to you for that one!" And I agree. But he was drunk, I was drunk, and at that point I was just vocalizing everything that came into my head. Including that gem of a thought. Don't worry, it was well-received. He interpreted it as a cue to, indeed, start making out with me. My happiness at the fact that it was happening completely overshadowed the fact that I knew I was sloppy as fuck and my general dislike of drunk makeouts, because they're just a lot less fun than sober ones. However, that wasn't really what I was thinking of when I was kissing Doctor.

The evening ended with my Big, K, realizing that her boyfriend P had allowed us out of her sight, coming to the realization that we were definitely hooking up somewhere. She assumed P's room, and she was correct. Perceptive bitch. She also said that she was listening to both the conversation and the makeout. I love her to pieces, even though she might be a little snoop. Anyways, now I'm really not sure what the protocol is for this. The last time I've hung out with a guy sober was doing homework with my floormate. Hardly even close to a date-like situation, although it's more common here than you might think. Oh well. I'll find a way to figure things out and decide what I want to do.

For now, though, I'm secure in the knowledge of two things. 1) I will always be entitled to state that on the night of my Big/Little reveal, I hooked up with my Big's boyfriend's Little. 2) I will also always be entitled to state that I hooked up with a child actor.

Cheers.

Twitter's great, but...

...it isn't private. Everything I write is still connected to my name, therefore still connected to the person that people think that I am. Not the person that I am, but the image that others hold of me. Unfortunately, people still look up to me for doing something in my past that I currently don't uphold.

This would all be fine and dandy, but let's face it. I think I'm fucking hilarious. And sometimes, I have funny things to say that are, consequently, about drinking. Which I had to be against in high school but I'm not now. But this means that people that see those comments connected with my name still think of me as a role model against those things. Also I think it's trashy to post about drugs and alcohol all the fucking time, because that makes it seem like that's all your life is. Which my life isn't. This weekend, all of my sorority's parties got cancelled, meaning that I could find other parties, but it's much more likely that I'll be snuggled up in bed or in my sorority house watching Say Yes To The Dress and eating chocolate.

However, instructing my drunk friend last night how to wake up get on the train to go to the airport this morning was too funny. I don't know if you've ever tried to explain scheduling to a drunk person, but they don't seem to understand the fact that there are specific times they need to be in specific places. Too good. Also, what if I wanted to inform the general public that chasing cheap vodka with Double Stuf Oreos isn't as good of an idea as it sounds? I can't do that, because people still think I don't drink.

I also can't tweet about everything that I'm doing wrong and crazy since college. I can't say, for instance, "Accidentally hooked up with the pledgemaster when I wanted the pledge. #TSM". That makes me look like a whore. But anonymous accounts can do it all they want. So jealous.

Moral of the story, I've changed. And that's okay, but people's images of me haven't. And that's frustrating- maintaining an image that is no longer true.

At Least My Issues Benefit Me

Well, I've known this for a while. I have a horrible time remaining emotionally attached to people. It's something that I've absolutely struggled with, and me simply losing romantic interest has led to the demise of my past six+ relationships. And not just with boyfriends either- I don't really have that difficult of a time separating my emotions from logic when it comes to people in general.

I've always thought that the whole boyfriend-losing-interest issue was a terrible thing, until about now. I realized that this lack of emotional attachment is exactly why I can do college hookups. Because I'm not the one to get emotionally attached, or crush on someone to the extent that I can't get over it immediately. It just doesn't happen. And most girls are like "well, I can do friends-with-benefits" but really, bitch, you can't. You get attached and then the guy who's just hooking up with you because you're hot is somehow framed as this terrible individual who used you when actually, you were the one that broke the agreement. The rule is no feelings. If you can't handle that, don't put yourself in the position where you would theoretically have to deal with the consequenses.

Ten Points to Awkward.

Fuck my entire fucking life.

So I'm in a sorority, right? And in a sorority (and fraternities too), we have Bigs. Bigs are like your mentor in life, in all things greek, in school, in general. Now, my Big is a wonderful, amazing, incredible woman who is dating a guy in a frat. Typical. Now, we went on a Winnebago trip, or a 'bago', with her boyfriend's frat and I met this guy. His initials are MD, so let's call him doctor. He's a freshman, like me, and is super adorable. We see each other at a ton of parties, and he's incredibly cute and charismatic (and an actor. I mean, this is California, but seriously come on. How can I resist?). Doctor's Big is my Big's boyfriend. My big is K and her boyfriend is P. Also on the trip, I met a ton of brothers from the frat, and they all are super close with me now. This is amazing and good, except for when they start trying to set me and Doctor up. Don't get me wrong, Doctor's amazing. So funny, I could totally see myself with him. Except now that I know they think that, every time I see him is super awkward. Because I know that somewhere, someone wants us together. The reason I have to catch you up is because I'm an idiot and suck at blogging.

Anyways, my point is that now I'm always trying to impress him. I see him at tons of parties where he's being hazed, therefore drunk. And I don't mind talking to him, because I feel like he wants to talk to me. I'm drinking too, so my confidence is up. And the only time(s) I've ever seen him sober were when a. the bago was starting and he was driving and therefore couldn't drink and b. when I got pretty tipsy off of the swim team's jungle juice and literally didn't care how obnoxious/happy I seemed to see him. Well, that all just changed because I saw him in the dining hall, of all places, when he was with his friends and I was heading over to sit with my laptop, broccoli, and tortellini alone. To do some work. Which turned into blogging. Because it was so awkward. All I wanted to do was sit in the fucking courtyard and enjoy the beautiful Berkeley air and I had to have an awkward social encounter that wasn't even that awkward, I was just making it insanely awkward.

I mean he responded in all the right ways, said hi to me, asked me how I was doing, and asked if I was going to go to his frat for gameday when he left. I said I'd stop by. His smile gets me every time.

If only he weren't so short.

This isn't even anything, probably, just a stupid freshman crush.

...And Everything Changed

Perspective can be a little thing. It can be something that gradually dawns on a person, making them believe slowly but surely, things are different. This isn't how it happened for me. Today was like an in-your-face perspective situation. I realized a lot of things.

1. I'm going to fail out of school unless I get my shit together. Seriously, I failed my first midterm for a major prerequisite course. That's not exactly how I imagined things going, but what can you do? I certainly don't know. Get my shit together, that's what! But that was seriously a rude awakening. I guess I just need to learn how to study for this, which is easier said than done.

2. Relationships were given way too much weight where I'm from. Here, people hook up a couple times, and if they want to pursue it, fine. If not, that's fine too. There's no dating. And that's not just true at the college level- that's true at every level. There just isn't an emphasis on labels. Which is different, but makes a whole lot of sense. So what, if I want to act like a little bit of a whore right now, that's okay right? I'm not, by the way. I'm just fostering that option, should I choose to pursue it.

3. Everyone in California is really fucking short. Which works for them, because they can all be short together. However, here's me: "oh hey guys, how's the weather down there?" because it seriously is an issue. The vast majority of people here aren't taller than me. And that makes things a little weird, because I knew I was tall but I didn't know how tall I was. Oh well.

4. The only reason I'd go back to the Midwest is to raise kids or for a job. Grad school is happening, and that's amazing to think about (this is all, of course, considering that number 1 happens correctly). But I'm going East with grad school, because why the hell not? I don't want to stay in one area, and I'm not being tied down. I like having friends in all areas. All parts of the country.

5. I miss my sister a ton. She's coming to visit me tomorrow and that's super exciting to me because I didn't realize how much I missed her until she wasn't here anymore! But she's coming to see me!!!! That's incredible news. Anyways.

6. People that want you in their lives will make the effort to maintain connection with you. They will, and those in my life have. And that's reciprocal, obviously, but it's so true. And some people were meant to be in your life for a long time, and some were merely meant to stay a short time. That's natural, that's life. And that's okay.

Well, that's enough knowledge for now. I'm sleepy but need to shower. And you didn't need to know that.

Here I Am

...this is me. There's no one else I'd rather be. Or something like that. Lyrics to a song, if you didn't catch on.

Well, I've officially been across the country for a month and things are interesting. There wasn't a lot for me to leave at home after all, considering most of my high school friends abandoned me, and I found myself with an eclectic group for my last few days in my hometown. This was good at the time, and allowed me to start over completely, but also makes me sad when I realize that my high school chapter is essentially completely over. There is no going back. And I don't know what I'm going to do on breaks, because I'll have nobody to see.

Everyone here is amazing. I'm gaining so many new friends, which I guess are really my only friends. I started drinking, which has been an interesting thing for me. I've reconnected with multiple people from my past, including D. And G. And I'm doubting my relationship, surprise surprise. What is it with me?

I joined a sorority. I fit in completely but sometimes can't help wondering what life would have been like in a "top" sorority. I'm solidly middle-tier.

I'm also feeling rather unfulfilled. I'm not entirely sure why. I'm starting a brand new chapter in my life and all I want is someone to talk to about it. I miss having the illusion of a support system, because I don't believe I ever had much of one in the people I used to call my friends. But it was nice to pretend.

I need to find something here that fulfills me. I'm lost and lonely.

Impending Crisis

Well, college orientation was the shit. I met so many amazing people, had the time of my life, and proceeded to fall in love with California.

The only issue, then, became that I came home, had fun with my amazing friends back home, had the time of my summer, and proceeded to fall back in love with where I am- and who I'm with- right now.

I guess you never really know what you've got 'till it's gone. But a 24-hour baking marathon followed by a seven hour movie marathon is what friendship looks like, I'm convinced. My expected summer fling asked me to draw it out past the summer, and things started to look really, really great. I don't want to leave in 25 days. I don't even know if I'll get to say goodbye to everyone I need to before I leave. It's absolutely horrendous. But I guess that's what happens.

However, there is a catch-22. When I freak out about leaving, I become incredibly introverted and thus lose opportunities to see those that I need to say goodbye to. It's really awful, actually. I feel like I'm not using the time that I do have to the best of my advantage. This is a crisis situation, and I don't know what to do about it.

Indecision

Shit. This is not the time to begin to have doubts about the choices that I'm making, or about the path that I'm choosing for my life. At the same time, I realized today that I'm scared shitless of California and all that it entails. I thought the distance wasn't going to bother me, but I'm literally terrified of the move. I think it was looking at a map that did it for me- telling myself that going to the East coast was the same as going to the West coast worked until I was staring at the difference on a map, plain and simple. Not to mention the fact that I'm going so far away from all of my friends, all of the people that I love and care about so dearly.

It isn't helping matters that I'm still double-committed. The deal was this: I go to orientation at Cal, and if I like it there, I can go there, but if I don't, Michigan is it. I still have the option to chicken out. And I don't want the normal going-away freshman fears to keep me from following the path I want. I don't want an out. I would rather be stuck than know that I can still cop out of this.

Maybe my mom was right. Maybe it was just a sign of rebellion that I decided so strongly on going to California. But now I have all these fears, all these doubts about traveling West in a month and a half, and nobody to bounce them off of. I'm strongly tempted to just stay close to avoid losing literally everyone I hold dear to me, all the relationships I want to maintain, and have the ability to try and continue the wonderful friendships in my life.

It's Amazing...

...to go on Facebook and see how your old friends have turned into hotties. One guy in particular, could be an Abercrombie model right now. It's refreshing to look back on the past and say "Damn... I was his first kiss".

It's also amazing to see that some of your Facebook friends are fashion designers, world-class performers, and incredible academics.

Short but sweet, and the product of my days.

This Is What Happens...

...when I start watching TV series on YouTube.

My latest obsession? Greek. Which is a show about frats and sororities, which is complete trash television. Needless to say, I'm hooked. And, as with most other things, I can't help relating my life to the show. Bear with me.

If you've ever seen the show, you know that one of the main characters, Casey, is in a loving and (mostly) committed relationship with Evan. Her first love, Cappie, is constantly trying to sway her from him, although Evan has money, a reputation, a plan for the future, and status. Cappie is just there to have a good time, but he's really into Casey.

Now, in my life, I don't know how to draw this parallel. I'm in this relationship that will end by the summer's end, and we both know that. So, I suppose, he's my Evan. Also in my life, I have a Cappie. I've written about him before, and the temptation still stands.

Besides all of that, the whole party aspect is starting to intrigue me. Not to the point of making me get smashed every weekend, but maybe urging me to experiment with some liquor before I go to college. Aside from the occasional sip at dinner, I haven't ever drank anything. Now, I'm in a binding but non-legal and unspoken contract not to, due to some volunteer work that I completed in May. The sobriety is supposed to last us through August, but I'm not so sure.

Maybe it wouldn't kill me to drink. But, that might just be the summer mindset at the moment. It's causing me to consider some pretty risky decisions. Some things that I wouldn't consider myself ordinarily doing. But then again, error is useful, helpful, and natural in life. Does the fact that it'd be calculated error change those benifits?

Sans One Person

That's pretty much the summation of my entire week, right there. It was perfect, sans one person. That doesn't mean that there was someone present in my life that I wish wasn't there, but rather someone absent that I wish had been a part of the last week of my life.

I had the privilege to travel to Joplin, Missouri to help them recover from the tornado that happened thirteen months ago. The physical labor was exhausting, hot, I have a horrible farmers tan, but this week is always the week of my summer that seems the most memorable and certainly the most rewarding. Helping others has been a large part of my life for a long time, and growing closer to my church family is always a benefit. I don't often talk about my religion, but when I do, I do so with passion.

Then, shortly after I came back, I had two evenings filled with theater people whom I miss and love. It was such a relief to see them all again, and they made me laugh without end. I always adore their ability to make me smile and forget about the less-desirable aspects of my life.

The one person I missed is the one person most likely reading this post. His nocturnal schedule and insight are compatible with mine, and I always benefit from us spending time together. And to you, C, I hope you make the mistake you're hesitant of making. Live a little. It may be a mistake, but frequent errors prevent people from expecting perfection of you. Trust me, I know. Besides, is it a mistake if it never leaves the circle of people closest to you? Don't confuse mistakes with learning. You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays.

Loneliness

I don't think I've ever felt this alone in my entire life.

I thought the transition period was bad before? Now it's even worse. I don't want to leave, because there's so much left unsaid, undone, and unaccounted for. I don't want to stay, because then I'll get more attached to the things that I won't have in two months. I do, however, have some very distinct urges.

I want to paint. I want to paint something, last summer was great because it allowed me to paint my room. Well, my room's painted and now I'm shit out of luck.
I want to go sit on the roof and look at the wide open sky. Oddly, that's comforting to me. It's less suffocating.
I want to cry. Goodness, I want to cry.
I want to tell everyone what I really think about them. I want there to be no things that I'm too embarrassed to admit to, and I don't want this sickening feeling that I'm replaceable, because I am. I find myself in situations that involve groups or subsets of my supposed friends, and realize that the summer could very well go on without me even being here at all. I'm replaceable, forgettable. And that's what's happening- I'm being replaced and forgotten.
I want to blog, all day, every day.
I want to come to terms with all that I've been repressing. I don't know how to come out and say this directly, but I wish I could. I need to be...well, be me... without worrying what anyone will think of me. And I don't know how to do that. Hopefully I will in California.

That's the other thing. Part of me can't wait to get out there and start doing whatever it is that I'll be doing. But part of me doesn't want to leave. At all. Ah well.

For goodness sake, I'm listening to "The Script Radio" on Pandora. I'm clearly in a very blue state of mind.

"Hey it was nice seeing you tonight (though brief). We should hang out soon, and by hang out, I mean party."

4:09 a.m. is a good time to be receiving that text message. Simple, straightforward, but with one single text, my morals have flipped.

No judgement, it's early in the morning. But let's entertain this possibility.

Not only am I in a program where I have to support being drug and alcohol free (which absolutely, 100% prevents me from partying), I really have no intention of losing control. I would totally go party with this individual, were it not prohibited for me, and check out the scene, while not drinking. Just because I don't want to lose control doesn't mean that others might not, and that could potentially be a really good time for me. If I knew for a fact nobody would find out, I would go. That says something about my inner morals. Deep down, I just want to do what I want and have a good time. Call this my rebellious age. Fuck it.

Another thing that screams bad news about this situation is the particular individual from who I received the text. He and I had a flirtation going on Sophomore year, and we almost hooked up that winter break. We didn't, but he made no secret that he found me attractive, and let's face it, I'd hook up with him. Absolutely. And if he'd be drunk, then he would definitely try to hook up with me. But I have a boyfriend.

So besides the fact that I can't be at parties because of this volunteer thing I do, I shouldn't party with him because we might end up hooking up and I have a boyfriend, and I would never want it to get out that I was partying with him and his friends, I REALLY want to go party with him.

I know exactly why, too. It's the thrill of it. It's because, instead of sitting at home at 4 a.m. playing League of Legends with my boyfriend, who's a superdork, I'd be out with a group of people that are pretty fucking cool, underneath their douchey party image. It's the intrigue, the adventure, the unknown.

I've known these people since the fifth grade, and they're just as nerdy and smart as me, but they somehow worked past that and are now out having a good time. There's a group of them that were in PI plus with me, which was the gifted program from 4th-8th grade. All great, great kids. 

I'll let you know what the deal becomes. I'm not sure where I stand on all of this.

Prescriptions

Now, this is really embarrassing. Please don't judge me.

Today, I went to a podiatrist because I have warts on my feet, and I learned several things, both about warts and about podiatrists. Let me explain.

For one, a quick look to the wall on the right of the exam room showed me that an official title of a member of the American Center for Foot and Podiatry Doctors (or some other longass acronym like that) is a Fellow. Congratulations, you're a Fellow. I thought that was amusing.

Also, I learned that you're more susceptible to warts when you're stressed, and tired, and sick. Good thing I'm ALL of those, all the time. Fuck.

I learned that prescribing ulcer medication helps warts, because the T antibodies are the same in ulcer repulsion as wart repulsion. Believe me, my parents were confused as hell when I told them I needed to be on ulcer medication, but I guess it works.

Also, I was prescribed medication from a pharmacy that mixes their own drugs, which the doctor assured me were "all legal, of course." Hmm....

For the final thing, he prescribed me a PedEgg. Yep, those things on the infomercials? I now have one. And TRUST ME when I tell you that cheese-grating the bottom of your foot is a little bit scary. A lot bit scary. I bled. Only one time, and I bleed all the time, but still. You're GRATING your fucking foot. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV.

The doctor confuses me. What would compel someone to want to look at feet all day?

Companionship

Well, I give up. I can stay up as late as I please when I actually have someone to hang out with or someone to talk to. But when I'm all by my lonesome? It just seems pointless. Maybe companionship is more important than I think it is or MAYBE it's just that occupying my time is the vital thing. Regardless, I'm going to go make a YouTube video, clean my room, or write thank-you notes. Thanks for listening to my utterly pointless rant!

Satisfaction

What's missing from my life?

More to the point, why is it that, at the end of the day, I spend more nights feeling unsatisfied with my life than I do satisfied?

Maybe I need therapy.

Rebellion

This is insane.

I'm going to live my life, from this point forward, as if I know where I'm going to school, because I do know. It's dumb for me not to get excited, because I'm done feeling sorry over this situation! I need to know, so I'm knowing.

Screw those of you that try to tell me the "reasonable" option in your opinion. Screw those of you that can't fucking be happy for me because you're too busy trying to tear me down. And screw those of you that think you could do better in my shoes.

I'm done. So over this.

Say hello to a student in the University of California- Berkeley class of 2016.

The Unknown

I think that I've gotten to the point where I gain comfort from the unknown.

Now, this is never a forced state, as fear of the unknown is the basis for many other fears, such as the fear of change or the fear of the dark. Many people, including myself, hate not knowing things. Where they're going, what the outcome of a given situation will be, whether or not the decision they're making will gain them lasting happiness. However, it has become my custom not to know things. And as of late, that has become more and more true.

The example I'm so heavily alluding to is the choice of college. I was supposed to face this choice twenty three days ago, and decide by May 1st. I was supposed to know by now where I will be spending the next four years of my life. That isn't the case, and now I'm stuck. I'm in the process of registering for two separate universities, and stand no closer to making a decision than I did a month ago.

I never got the opportunity to place my name under a University on the school map of future plans, I never got to joyously burst in to my counselor's office and tell her the news, I never got to anxiously buy spirit wear from my new destination. I never got the cake with the school logo on it, never got the banner, the bumper sticker, the folder, the shirt. I still haven't re-decorated my room, or changed my Facebook Education status, or received any presents indicating where I'll be next year. I haven't invested in a frequent traveling pass of sorts, haven't figured out when I'm moving in, haven't bought tickets home for the holidays. I haven't bought my parents "Proud Parent of a _________ Student" things, nor have I gotten the opportunity to place my destination on my Graduation announcements.

I'm not excited for this choice anymore, and I know that I should be. This is the most exciting time of my entire life thus far, and I should be nothing but anticipatory of the life that I'm about to begin. I'm going to grow so much from the time I leave for school in the fall to the time I graduate that school, and there's no room to be anything but elated. I'm getting ready to leave the little town in the Midwest, where I'm from, and really grow to be someone. I should be so excited.

I have nothing anymore. Up until two days ago, I had my high school enrollment. Now, all I have is a piece of paper sitting in the backseat of my car, under my cap and gown, that has my name and some signatures. I have a big question mark, and that didn't hit me until I didn't have anything to cling to anymore.

I tried, so hard, for this to be exciting. I know what I want, and I was willing to fight for it. However, after many unsuccessful attempts to persuade those in my life, I've began to give up. I'm not changing my mind, but I am beginning to change my approach. After all, the entirety of my life thus far has been comprised of actions and choices dictated to me by my parents and peers, so why start changing that fact now? I'm nothing but a product of my relationships, and I'm ashamed as hell to admit that.

But look at it from my perspective. I'm such a good child: 4.32 GPA, 35 ACT, musical talent, good relationships with those around me, hundreds of volunteer hours, adheres to curfew. The fact that this desire to follow my dreams is considered an act of a new-found rebellious streak (began by choosing a prom dress that my mother didn't 100% approve of, mind you) is utterly ridiculous. I didn't get a tattoo yet (the one thing I promised myself I would do the second I turned eighteen) because my parents prefer I don't. I don't drink, or smoke, or do drugs, or get detentions. I'm a great kid, a kid that any parent should be proud and supportive of.

It's so easy for those around me to look at my life and say one of a few things. 1. Follow YOUR dreams, not hers. 2. She's just worried about losing you. 3. She's probably right. But how many of those people telling me that have walked in my shoes, fought my battles, or dealt with everything that I have? Not one. And that's not to say that minimizes their opinions at all, but it does put things in perspective. I realize that this is my decision, and no one else has to make it for me. I know that I'm the one that will have to deal with these repercussions for the next four years, no one else.

I was watching tonight's graduation episode of 'Glee', and I realized how much I yearned for that in my life. One of the characters, Santana, got a scholarship to a university for the fall, but wants to go to New York to follow her dreams. When her mom presents her with a check for the money that she would have used on her education if Santana hadn't gotten the scholarship, Santana tells her mom that she doesn't want to go to college, she wants to go to New York. Her mom hands her the money anyways, and tells her to use it to make her dreams of stardom happen. Another of the characters, Rachel, was going to marry her boyfriend and delay her dreams of stardom for a year in order to help her boyfriend and gay best friend make theirs come true. Her boyfriend instead chooses to enlist in the military (somewhere she can't follow him), buys her a train ticket, and forcefully puts her on the train to New York, her dream school, and away from himself, just because he loves her so much and believes in her so much.

I want Rachel's boyfriend or Santana's mom. More specifically, I'd like both, but beggars can't be choosers. In any case, all I want, all I've ever wanted through this, is for her to support me. I want her to tell me that she thinks that I can do this, that she'll support me no matter what, and that she believes in me. I want her to want me to be happy, and to recognize that following my own path is essential to me. I want her to understand that this is what I need, what I require, what I yearn for. But she can't do any of that.

Coming back to my original point, I've gained a sort of comfort from cultivating multiple options. Hey, I may not be able to fully commit to MY dream school, but at least it's in the running. At least I have a backup plan if it doesn't fall through. At least I have a cop-out if I decide that I really don't want to move 2100 miles West. At least I'll be somewhere. At least I don't have to deal with the finality of that decision yet, and I have some wiggle room. If I don't know now, that's okay, because I've never been one to stand up for what I want and to make rash decisions. I've never been the decisive one.

But now what? If all I want more than anything in the world is to know, but I've grown so attached to not making the final decision, what's going to happen when I do? Will it be a relief?

I guess I'll never know how all of this is traditionally supposed to feel. I won't know the excitement of filling out my housing contract, because that experience for me was in the haze of indecision. Same with choosing classes, registering for orientation, and beginning to meet students on Facebook groups for the schools. I won't know the original enthusiasm for beginning the registration process at the school of my choice, because I didn't make a choice by the time I began the process. And that's sad to me, and I feel that I missed out on something in this process.

I'm developing a rather strange bond with the unknown.

Gay Best Friend

I know why every girl wants a gay best friend, whether or not she'll admit it to herself.

No, it's not to have a shopping companion or wingman. Nor is it to gossip about guys. But both are fringe benefits.

Girls like to be friends with guys. That's a fact. Guys are easier to be friends with, and are a relaxing trip away from Girlworld, which very much sucks. However, guys are also wired differently than girls. Ask any straight guy that's friends with a girl if he would hook up with her, given the chance, 99 times out of 100 he'd say yes. And girls are completely clueless to this fact, because we don't think like that! Unreciprocated feelings are a dangerous territory.  And because guys are so easily able to develop romantic feelings, there's a lot of nastiness that can result between "just friends" with guys.

However, gay guys aren't like that. They'll be your rock, your boy best friend, your comfort. But they also won't up and start liking you all of a sudden, making everything increasingly more and more awkward between the two of you.

There's incredible solace in that fact. Nothing gets interpreted the wrong way, there's no danger of overstepping boundaries or leading on.

It's simple.

Being Ladylike is Hard

I'm going to use the age-old example of getting rid of unwanted hair. Let it be known that I'm not unladylike. I just don't have excellent composure all the time, don't get mani-pedis every weekend, and don't know all the designers by hand. I enjoy being a girl, but am by no means someone who allows girly things to run my life. I roll out of bed twenty minutes before I leave for school, and the most effort I put into my hairstyle most of the time is just braiding it. I don't wear makeup most days, and generally don't care what I look like.

That being said, this is pre-Prom. Debatabley  the second most important/glamorous day in a girl's life (after her wedding, of course), and the culmination of her high school experience. Everyone goes through rigorous beauty rituals (makeup, nails, flowers, shaving, some tan, some do their eyebrows, uncomfortable shoes, uncomfortable dresses, some diet, etc.) in order to be perfect. This, for me, involved the hair on my legs and underarms.

I didn't feel like shaving, and I still had some Veet left from spring break, so I decided to use that instead of a razor. These are the instructions that were on the bottle:

"5 STEPS TO BEAUTIFUL TOUCHABLY SMOOTH SKIN
1. Read precautions before use. Before showering, take the outer cap off the bottle, remove the sponge from inside the cap and apply the cream evenly onto dry skin using the soft, colored side of the dry sponge. Ensure the area you want to remove hair from is completely covered with cream. DO NOT RUB IN. Wash hands thoroughly."

This seemed easy enough to me. Read precautions (most of which were ignored), take sponge, spread cream. Dry skin, check. I used it on both of my legs before moving along in the directions. Although I'm not sure how "completely covered" is defined. I did my best. Also, it's pretty freaking hard to evenly cover all of your legs, including the back of your thighs, while balancing on one leg and not touching your other Veet-slathered leg to anything. It takes extreme coordination, and I'm sure I looked ridiculous.
 
"2. Once applied, wait for 2 minutes before stepping into the shower."

Wait, what? It took me ten minutes to apply this damn cream to both of my legs. Are they expecting you to do this in exactly 0 seconds, so that all the cream is on for exactly 2 minutes? And I couldn't do one leg at a time because it has to be dry skin. Oh well, not a whole lot I can do at this point except move on. 

"3. During your normal shower routine, leave the cream on for 3 minutes by timing carefully. Don't worry if some cream gradually washes away when in contact with running water. To prevent cream from washing off too soon, avoid exposing those parts of the body covered with cream to the direct stream of water within the first 3 minutes in the shower."

Okay, so I've already had this cream on for ten plus minutes. Out of the three minutes, is the timing essential? Or the fact that you're in the shower with it on? Does the steam activate some chemical reaction or something? I'm stumped. So I get into the shower, then realize a problem. I have both of my legs and armpits covered in this thing, and I'm not supposed to expose them to running water. What the hell am I supposed to do for 3 "carefully-timed" minutes? The result was an absurd backbend-like thing so that I could wet my hair under the shower. And who the hell brings a timer into the shower with them? I'm so far off this track that it isn't funny. But I truck onward after what I think is three minutes.

"4. Gently use the white side of the sponge to test a small area. If hair comes away easily, remove the rest of the remaining traces of cream with the white side of the sponge by massaging in circular motion. If needed, leave the cream on for a bit longer WITHOUT EXCEEDING 10 MINUTES of total application time. The soft, colored side can be used for sensitive areas."

Oops. Shit. I've WAY exceeded 10 minutes at this point. Like, way way. Also, the white side of my sponge had, like, corroded since the last time I used it, and it was flaking off all over the place. Not an extremely comforting feeling or result. There was nothing relaxing about massaging it all over my leg. Especially with the 15-minute-old cream on it. I don't even understand how that 10 minute thing is possible. Either the person that these instructions has extremely low leg surface area, or these are just completely unachievable. Now I'm feeling like a failure because I can't even apply hair removal cream correctly.

"5. RINSE YOUR SKIN thoroughly under the shower after use. Make sure the bottle is snapped closed and replace the cap onto the bottle. Rinse the sponge and dry it before replacing it back inside the cap. Store in an upright position."

At this point, I rinse my legs off and such. Then, I just throw that gross-ass sponge back into the cap, relatively dry.

Now I have to blowout my hair.

As per my stylists request, I had to dry my hair with a hairdryer (something I haven't done since 2009, at least) and a brush so that it's straighter than natural. I've never done this before, and so attempt to begin.

Ten minutes and no progress later, I give up. If my hair dries relatively straight, she can work with it tomorrow at the salon. My attempt with my hairdryer was even less successful than my attempt with the Veet. Overall, my evening preparation has neither been easy nor a big win. Oh boy.

Weight

I feel like there's something that I have to say but I don't know how to say it, what to say it, or even if I need to say it at all. I'm just burned out. And the people that are supposedly there for me- the people that I've helped through the worst- seem to be deserting me. I don't know who to turn to, what to do, what to say, what I'm thinking at all. It's awful.

I can't walk around much longer with this heavy heart. It's killing me.

PostSecret Round 2

For the longest time, I've selfishly wished that I had some extreme illness so I had an excuse for being down all the time.

There is nothing more empowering than calmly asking for change and seeing it performed.


The thing that annoys me the most about people is when they aren't upfront with you. You were fine with me last week, so why are you pissed as hell at me this week?

I just need Justin Bieber to be my boyfriend. That's all.

My chances of dating you decrease exponentially when you tell me that all the other guys I've dated aren't good enough for me.

Feeling that I'm desired is part of my concept of self-worth.

I want to date all the boy bands from the nineties to now.

....Really?

Yep, mom, thank you. Thank you for telling my school counselor, my neighbor who is a college counselor, and our neighbor who knows something about the school to all talk to me regarding my decision. This is getting insane. We have four days. You're crazy. My mind isn't going to change, and if it is, then it'll take a lot of work. And you, if you had any sanity, would not put that stress upon your daughter the day of Prom and the week before the opening of the musical.

Method Acting

Two disclaimers before I begin this post:
1. I don't have ANYTHING against autistic people. I merely use it as a descriptor.
2. I'm pretty attractive, generally speaking.

Okay. So I'm in a musical production right now, and my friend K and I are suspected of being a couple. We absolutely are not. However, if anyone asks, we always tell them we are. It's fun to mess with people, and O is the most gullible. He's bought the deal, hook line and sinker.

Now, this show is Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I play Potipher's wife, which is a sexed-up role that involves seducing the main character, cheating on my husband, etc. Basically, I'm the hot slut of the cast, on stage. In this show is also several males, most distinctly the 11 brothers (the actor playing Potipher and I had a thing four years ago that no one discusses).  These brothers are as follows: J, H, K, Y, D, O, T, E, C, M, and B.

B has a girlfriend.
H is gay.
E and J are currently crushing on me.
T crushed on me a little bit ago, and then ended up dating the girl I consider my sister.
K is the one pretending to be my boyfriend.
Y wants to make out with me, real bad.
D is probably asexual. Kidding. But not really...
M is too young for me, but he's a cutie.
C is way too young for me, and not a cutie.
O is super awkward, and also young. But not a cutie either. And doesn't think of girls in a degrading way. Or so I thought.
The romantic ties with me to these boys are a bit insane.

Now, out of these 11, seven know me well enough to joke about me being a whore, dating K, flirting with everyone, etc. Those seven know me well enough to make sexual jokes at my expense and have me not mind. Three are either disinterested in me, or too young to joke about me in that capacity. I thought the remaining one, O, was in that boat. I was wrong.

Today, backstage, we were preparing for a scene in which we had to look like prisoners- downtrodden and decrepit and such. This involves huddling under blankets together, and things of the like. I share a blanket, coincidentally, with K. K was in the dressing room, flaunting this fact to Y (the two share a friendly rivalry over me- it proves for interesting discussion and such). K mentioned a comment such as "Oh, yeah, I'm gonna go have sex backstage with A under this blanket."

O, who is fifteen years old, says "Lucky! I'm so jealous." K's reply? "Having sex with A?" "Yeah, K. It's every man's dream, and you're actually living it."

...

It is an incredibly uncomfortable moment when you realize that fifteen-year-olds want to sleep with you. That they categorize sleeping with you as "every man's dream."

I knew that the guys enjoyed the aesthetics of my seduction scene, many of them have told me before. They're on stage, being guards during this scene, and have been reprimanded for not looking at the audience (as they should be) because they're too busy watching me slink around the stage. But I didn't know that some of them took it a bit too seriously.

Who am I kidding? It's a compliment.

The Decision

This has been weighing on me for quite some time. The decision that will put me, locationally, in a different place for the next four years of my life. A decision that I can't seem to make for fear of those around me not approving of my choice.

Hello, A. Wake the fuck up. This is your life, your decision, and you can do this.

But what if I can't? Or worse, what if I really can? I believe that that's the bigger question here. I think that my mind's been made up for about a week now. But, I've had conversations on end with people, claiming that I don't know what to do, or what to choose. One occurred at 5:00 in the morning, and it was with debateably the one person that takes the time to listen to what I'm saying. Three separate ones occurred with my parents, all of which led to tears. The moment of realization came this afternoon, when my dad asked me "you've made up your mind, haven't you?" I couldn't say no, because the answer was yes. I have made up my mind.

I have made my decision.

I can't tell my mom, because just today she suggested that I commit to two places and wait until the summer to make a decision. I told her, quite frankly and honestly, that I'd rather punch myself in the face repeatedly than prolong this any longer than May 1.

I can't tell most of my friends, because whenever I so much as mention California, they talk about how expensive it is, how they would never go there, and the conversation no longer involves me. I'm an outsider, watching them shoot down my possible plans and ambitions. And it hurts like hell.

I can't admit it to myself. I'm so afraid of losing control and of change that it terrifies me to make such a big choice, even though I know what's better for me.

All I want is for someone to look me in the eyes and tell me that they think I can do it. That they're proud of me. That they want me to follow my dreams. That they want what I want. Someone to stick up for me and confirm my thoughts that this is what's good for me, that this is what I need. I want someone to hear the news, and not get disappointed, or talk about how it's a bad move, but to tell me that they're happy for me, that they think I'll succeed, and that they're proud of me.

I want someone on my side in the me vs. the world battle.

Knowing all of this means that once I leave, I cannot fail. I cannot even think about the possibility of failure, because the last thing I want to hear is "I told you so." There's no way that I can fail. No cop-out, no easy way out. I have to succeed.

Yes, it's a risk. I know that. But my heart's in it, and there's no changing that.

I'm going to Berkeley.

I'm pretty sure I can do it. I just want someone else to believe in me.

A New Thing?

Let's try something. Being inspired by PostSecret, but never being struck at the right moment, I'm going to attempt to post my secrets here and hope you all enjoy them. I'll try to do a few at a time, so posts aren't simply one statement.


Looking back on pictures from the time I felt most suicidal, I appear happier then than I do now. I'm either better at coping than I was, or worse at faking happiness to myself.

I feel like I have never been good enough for my mother's standards, and now I may make an extremely important life decision simply to prove to her that I can handle things.

I'm supposed to be working on a project. A page on Eugene Delacroix on Tumblr. I don't know how to use Tumblr, and have been YouTube-ing baby sloths for the past two hours.

Insecurities

I only achieve happiness when I’m distracted.

This is a fundamental problem, then for me. Because if I’m only happy when I’m not thinking about my feelings and my thoughts, then does that mean I dislike myself? Or does it mean that I do like myself, just hate when I can’t express them? Nobody understands me, either way. There’s nobody that I can talk to about my feelings, including those that I call my best friends. Every person that I wish I could call my best friend has or had feelings for me, so talking things out with them is sometimes a struggle. Either that, or they're shallow, condescending bitches. To the rest of them, I support my friends through anything and everything that they need supporting through. They see me as the strong one, and have stopped asking whether or not I’m okay. This is unfortunate because, most of the time lately, the real answer has been no.

I just cannot believe how confused that I am. There’s never been a time in my life when I’ve been more unsure about what to do or what I’m doing with my life. A lot of choices have to be made very very soon, and I don’t think that I’m ready or qualified to let go of what I have going for me. I miss the person that I was when I was dating my boyfriend. Because he wasn’t involved directly in all aspects of my life, I was able to forget about everything while talking to him, if only for an hour. It was nice. What he didn’t know, we didn’t talk about, and what he did know, he supported me through. I laughed. I was happy.

Then reality had to suck and life had to get complicated. Now I’m just so incredibly upset all the time, because I have decisions looming over me. What to do this summer. Who to reconnect with before I leave in the fall. Where to go in the fall. My mother, of course, prefers that I stay in Wisconsin or Michigan, but California holds some excellent prospects for me and, let’s face it, how upset would I be if I didn’t take the opportunity and go to California? But right now, I can’t imagine leaving anything behind and going anywhere. It scares the living shit out of me to think of losing all of my friends next year. Terrifies me. And if I can’t conjure up a strong support system for myself soon, I’m going to be so lost. I don’t have someone I can call on a bad day that understands me, and so going through times of transition has always sucked a lot for me. But now that it’s so new and different, and I’m uprooting my entire life, its going to be harder than ever before. I don’t know how I’m going to make it, and what I’m going to do when I leave. When I only have myself.

When there’s nothing left to distract me. How will I react? Will I finally be able to achieve a point of happiness and contentedness with myself? I’m terrified. I graduate in 28 days. And every time I think about it, a lump comes to my throat and I start to tear up.

Manipulation

I can't tell what I'm dealing with.

That's incredibly rare to me, because I'm incredibly good at reading people. This individual is manipulative. However, I can see through the facade, or so I think. The question becomes then, to what extent. One of my best friends was manipulated into being in love, and she's still struggling with that implication. Recently, some think that I fell victim to the same trap. I still don't know. The right words and the ability to ask the right questions goes a long way, especially for me. I felt like I was matched, like I was finally understood.

After the fact, we had to cut contact because of a girlfriend being in the picture, and because one of my best friends was romantically involved in the past. My friends got involved, it was incredibly nasty. Now, I'm being asked if I still have feelings. If I'm still in love. It's getting abrasive. And I don't know what to do.

Random Compliments

This weekend, I got some pretty awesome compliments. These ranged from the standard: "Your eyes are gorgeous" to the more descriptive. I'll just list them out for you right now.
"Your eyes do have a hypnotizing effect!"
"You're dangerous"
"I raised four good sons. But if I were ever to have a daughter, I would want her to be just like you."
"I love you like a daughter."
"I'm so proud of you."
"This may sound really weird, but you have the most gorgeous hips!" (This one is my personal favorite because the one part of my body that I'm most insecure about is my hips. This girl made my entire life with just that one comment. Thank you.)
"I think I'm in love with you. Don't tell my wife."

And a compliment I gave to someone close to me:
"I just realized I never told you how incredibly amazing I think you are, how much I look up to you, and how I want to be you. So that's that!"

Bitches Will Be Bitches

Apparently, the definition if privacy is no longer existent. This girl who claimed she was my friend has, it turns out, absolutely no regard for my feelings at all. At all. She's just trying to cause drama and I'm the next victim. Seven weeks, and we're all out of here and I don't have to deal with her shit anymore. She pisses me off to no extent and I don't even know why I'm letting her dictate my life and the choices that I make. She's insane. I can't handle this. She knows too much.

Mexico

I went to Mexico for Spring Break and I fell in love.

Let me back up, because I fell in love in a lot more ways than one. I fell in love with the Spanish language, and even picked some up (which is a feat in and of itself for me). It was just enough cultural immersion to educate but not enough so that I felt lost. We were at a resort, after all. I also fell in love with the all-inclusiveness. They had open buffet, bar, room service, and restaurants at all times, and although I was designated the sober one for the week, my friends collectively would have spent thousands and thousands of dollars on alcohol. It was nice not to have to worry about paying for anything, and nice to be able to eat whatever, however much, and whenever we wanted. I fell in love with the beach, I must say. It was a beautiful thing and oh-so relaxing.

But more so than any of that, I fell in love and I fell in love with my mentality in Mexico.

A lot happened in Mexico to the group of five of us. Two girls lost their virginity, we all shamelessly danced on a bar, the majority of them got too drunk most nights, we lost some, won some, one girl cheated, we got into fights, we made up, and all was well. Unfortunately, the lack of rules in Mexico did not exactly carry back over into the states.

When I was in Mexico, I met someone that matched me. Intellectually, I was challenged in every conversation. My facade was effectively seen through, and I was forced to do some long-overdue self evaluation. I was completely torn down to basics, and forced to rebuild myself honestly in someone else's eyes. It was refreshing, terrifying, and incredibly difficult. Believe me when I say that I reciprocated. Every conversation was a point of self-discovery for the both of us, and life was good.

There's just one problem. There's a girlfriend involved. It was never my intention to cause anyone to toe any relationship boundaries, but it happened. So now I'm stuck, because the Mexican rules do not apply in America.

With beauty comes pain, and it's all a matter of balance. While in paradise, I got some news in a very bad form. I received four rejection letters, two deferrals, and a delayed acceptance. The truth is hard to swallow, but it's made a bit easier with the presence of sand and sun. And, of course, great friends.

You Know Who You Are

I'm sorry for blogging about you. You were worried, once, about not being able to stop reading this, and I can't decide if I wish you still read it or if I'd rather you have stopped. Either way, I'm still maintaining my online anonymity and not revealing who you are to anyone, or who I am to anyone. I'm blogging for strangers, and trying to forget that you're among the few that read this. I hope that's okay with you. I do want you to know that I have absolutely no hard feelings, and that I'm sorry we were once doing better with the friends arrangement than we are right now.

You're coming home in a little while, and I'm going to ask you to meet up with me for coffee or something. You don't know this yet, because I haven't asked you yet. I hope you accept. I also hope you're open with me, and I with you. I think about you, and it's hard sometimes, I admit that. I miss you as a person.

Spring Break

So, even though it isn't upon me yet, spring break is causing quite a bit of drama and stress in my life. Namely because I'm going to Cancun with four other girls, three of whom are skinnier than me and one of which is a lesbian.

Generally speaking, I'm the most attractive out of the five of us, I'm not going to deny myself that. The lesbian doesn't compete with me, so I'm fine with her. Out of the other three, one is a huge bitch, one is incredibly dumb, and the other is annoying and insane. I'm the one that guys tend to like and appreciate, which is mostly (I think) because of my personality and the fact that I'm easy to talk to and be around.

All of that is fantastic, and far better than sheer physical attractiveness, in every situation except in the case of spring break hookups.

Now, I know the three other girls didn't get skinny the right way. Well, one of them is just a size 00 freak of nature, but the other two have struggled with eating disorders. If you've read previous posts, I've commented on how even though I would never resort to one, I understand that people do because they show results. I, on the other hand, eat well, get enough exercise, and just kind-of let my body do it's thing. Which means that I have, by product of genetics, "child-bearing hips," as a male friend of mine put it. That's fucking fantastic when oh, I don't know, bearing children, but in any other situation it sucks. Absolutely sucks. So, to recap, by doing the healthy thing for my body, I ended up being the biggest girl in my spring break group.

The four straight girls went shopping today for some swimwear and such, and I got increasingly self-conscious as the day went on and I was constantly comparing myself against the other girls' figures. They noticed something was up about me, but didn't know what it was because I was too embarassed to tell them.

Eventually, the girl that I'm closest to in that group (the 00 freak of nature) pulled me aside for the sake of buying a breadstick and asked what was wrong. I figured that I had nothing to lose by telling her, so I did. She pressured me to buy an ice cream cone, but I refused, so I guess that was a good thing. Overall, it helped to just talk to someone about it, because I also felt ignored through the whole process and it helped that she now knew what was causing me stress. She reassured me that I looked really good in the bikini that I bought (which I know she's obligated to do because she's a good friend, but it made me feel better all the same) and told me that she was always jealous of my hips, which helped for the little that it was worth.

But if I'm this worried and stressed while shopping for clothes for spring break, how bad will it be once we're actually on spring break? I just don't want all of my friends to be hotter than me on vacation.

Chaos

Chaos can be fun, exciting even. But I was in no way, shape or form prepared for the chaos that this weekend entailed, both bad and good. Background information: I was in a play this weekend, that performed Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday afternoon and night.

Here we go.

So first of all, my ex boyfriend asked me on Thursday, late,  if I wanted to hang out and make out. I was kind-of, well, confused for a while because he had told me previously that he didn't want me if there wasn't an emotional attachment, but whatever. I said no, because I honestly was busy, and we went on our merry way. Nothing too bad yet.

Then, this guy a year younger than me (that had confessed to liking me earlier in the week) kept trying to find excuses to talk to me alone, etc. Let's call him "Guy A." I didn't really have the time or the energy to do that, so it was quite problematic. Eventually, he managed to get me alone and kiss me, and then proceeded to delve into the emotional complications of our "love" to me over text. I don't like him like that, but evidently he "knows I kissed him back" or something like that. He kept trying to put words into my mouth regarding how I was feeling, and I just ended up stopping trying to correct him. Nothing will happen.

Also, a guy my age wanted to ask me to Prom, found out that I was already planning on going with a really good friend of mine, and decided to try to talk to me and ask me anyways. Let's call him "Guy B." The result was a very awkward conversation on his part about how he liked me, me politely declining, then him making several jokes at that expense that were evidently some sort of therapy for him, but made me extremely uncomfortable. Also, he's just incredibly annoying. So that one isn't happening either.

In my show, Guy B is my friend's love interest, and I have a love interest of my own, let's call him Guy C. Well, for the last three months, my friend and Guy C have had a thing, which for him has been simply trying to figure out if he wants something more, but for her it's been rather a prelude to the relationship. The result of this has been that he is becoming upset because she's so emotionally attached, and she's upset because he's not being conclusive. On Saturday, they both decided that it's best if they part ways. So that night, after strike (which is when we tear down the set), they began talking at midnight. Keep in mind that I have a close relationship with the both of them, and have been giving them separate advice. Well, at 12:35, after talks that I'm sure covered everything about the relationship/friendship between them, as well as her eating disorder (we think), I drove him home. He was so confused, and she left in tears.

Following so far?

Today, Guy B texted me and told me that he was jealous of my friendship with Guy C because he didn't understand how the two of us have gotten so close over such a small space of time. Well, he's just overreacting and desperate. Pardon my bluntness.

Let's take a trip back through this show, focusing on the friendship between myself and Guy C. We knew each other when we did the callback together, but not that well. He and I, however, had amazing chemistry, so they cast us. From then on out the entire experience was just us goofing off, culminating in the last two weeks of us shamelessly friend-flirting. Throughout the entire process, we've been getting to be extremely close friends. I've talked him through a bunch of things, and he appreciates the fact that I think like a guy. He also appreciates that I don't take bullshit from him, and he doesn't take it from me either. A few nights ago, he decided to weigh the pros and cons of a hypothetical relationship between the two of us, which confessed a lot about his feelings. However, neither of us are exactly in a position to date right now, so we took it for what it was worth and got on with our lives. I don't think either of us really intended to entertain the idea. However, in a darkened corner on Saturday afternoon, his lips found mine. No idea what that means. But I value him immensely as a person, so I'm taking it for what it was and leaving it at that.

I reconciled things with my other ex boyfriend, and we even did a throwback to some of the insane things that we did when we dated. We've both moved on. It's wonderful, and the one thing that I have closure on. Fantastic.

Life has thrown me some curveballs. However, what's life without a little chaos?

Thinking Like Eve

The forbidden fruit is oh-so-sweet...

Think about it. Speeding feels good. Disobeying the rules gives you a rush. The satisfaction that you get when you do something daring? It's priceless!

I feel that this concept, however, applies most aptly to flirting and sexual tension. The thought of making out with a guy you know? Tempting. The thought of making out with your friend's hot love interest? More tempting

The thought of getting with your incredibly suave and attractive theatrical co-star love interest who is currently the real-life love interest of your theatrical (and real life) close friend, who is the theatrical love interest of a guy that likes you in real life? Tell me that isn't a disaster waiting to happen!

Forbidden fruit, because I would never hurt my close friend. But what did she say to me today? "Please kiss him so that we can talk about what a good kisser he is!!"

Now, I'm respectful and am not one to mindlessly start kissing people, but come ON!

I'm only human.

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Hello Again!

Well it's been a while since we've last spoke! A lot has happened, I'll try to bring you up to speed.

Firstly, my boyfriend and I decided it was better if we went our separate ways. It was mutual, amicable, and for the better, or so I feel.

Secondly, I've been a busy bee. I have lots of theater projects underway, and have been completely consumed in rehearsals for a while.

Thirdly, I've been so busy and tired that the fire has gone out of me, and I can no longer pen witty things. So my attempts begin again tonight. Let's hope it works.

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Mentalities

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Firstly, I'd like to say that in my defense, I've been a busy bee since I started school back again. A lot of things to consider, a lot of change going on. For one, I'm now in several more performing ensembles and another three shows, meaning that rehearsal on rehearsal on rehearsal is consuming my life. No complaints though, it's the price I pay for art.

This month has been a lot about me coming out of my skin, which is hard to explain. I feel that I'm finally beginning to embrace the mentality of change that is being so quickly thrust upon me. Many important, somewhat reckless, decisions have happened recently. None that I regret. I've decided that, geographically, in a year I will be no longer in the tri-state area. Which has been hard for some people in my life to accept, but is something that I'm standing by. I need a change. I need to get away. I need to start over. Which has got me thinking a lot about my relationships with people. Which ones do I want to carry over and which ones do I get rid of? They say that people come into your life for a reason. What if the friendship has run its course? What do you do then? I'm going to be away, far away, next year. I don't want anything to prevent me from achieving all that I can achieve. I need to stop being smothered.

I've recently been reminded, by a friend of mine, that we have to do good things with the time that is given to us. We have to make use of it. And I don't think I'm doing that.

Come April, I've decided that I'm getting tattooed. I don't know what yet, I don't know where, I'm playing with designs, numbers, locations, but the decision stands. I need this, for myself. I'm also going skydiving. Because right about now, that's the thing that I need to feel alive. I need to be shocked back into living. It's sad but true.

Well, that's just about enough useless rambling for the evening. I'm going to finish painting my nails and reflecting on the strange hollowness of my current existence. Which is a lot less depressing than it sounds. Cheers!

Return

Today, I came home from a three day trip with some pretty crazy people. It was a breath of fresh air and exactly what I needed.

Now, whenever I come home from such trips, what I do when first back in my house always tells me something about my mood. Today, I was dealing with a friend that needed me, so I was texting. I was also hungry, so I sat at the table and read my mail and then ate dinner.

As I was dragging my suitcase up the stairs in the dark, I had a sudden desire for my old room back. See, I redid my room this past August, and I love it. But for some reason, the thought of walking into the room in its present state depressed me.

When I got to the end of the hall, I closed my eyes and turned on the light, and even though there was not a doubt in my mind as to what I would see when I opened them, I was still disappointed by the sight. It struck me that I hadn't put any of my pictures back on the walls, or filled all my new picture frames yet. I noticed how my room was in a state of disarray, something that never bothers me and that usually goes overlooked. I opened my suitcase and retrieved my phone charger. I plugged my phone in and left it on my pillow. My desk, previously facing west but currently facing north, was my next target. I took my contact case and solution and replaced them in their normal place, also adding my comb and mousse to the clutter that covered the desk's surface. As I set the comb down, I noticed that I still had the sample paint color swatches from when the room was redone, and that didn't make me sad. But the Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream pack of gum did. As did the razor that my friend used to shave before our New Years Eve party, still covered in the foundation I lent her. I hear my phone ding it's text message ringtone, I think it's called "Tinkerbell", and I ignore it, which is strange.

I'm going to take a shower, then I'm going out for the evening. And though I'm going to go spend time with the person whom I most want to see right now, I still wonder if I'll be able to shake the feeling of being alone by the time I get out the front door. Here's to hoping.