Books & Such

I don't really have anything to say, but I have to return the Stephen King novel to the library tomorrow and I wanted to save a few quotes that stood out to me. These are from Desperation...I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys his novels.
Anyway...

" 'Yes, right, a pretext. It's like how, in the old horror movies, a vampire can't just come in on his own. You have to invite him in.'
'Why?' Cynthia asked.
'Maybe because Entragian -- the real Entragian -- was still inside his head. Like a shadow. Or a person that's locked out of his house but can still look in the windows and pound on the doors. Now Tak's in my mother -- what's left of her -- and it would kill us if it could...but it could probably still make the best Key lime pie in the world, too. If it wanted to.' "

" David shrugged. 'Nothing. It doesn't matter. What matters is that God never makes us do what he wants us to do. He tells us, that's all, then steps back to see how it turns out. Reverend Martin's wife came in and listened for awhile while he was still talking about the free-will covenant. She said her mother had a motto: God says take what you want, and pay for it.' "

" 'Listen to me, David. I'm going to tell you something you didn't lean from your minister or your Bible. For all I know it's a message from God himself. Are you listening?'
David only looked at him, saying nothing.
'You said God is cruel the way a person who's lived his whole on Tahiti might say, snow is cold. You knew, but you did't understand.' He stepped close to David and put his palms on the boy's cold cheeks. 'Do you know how cruel your God can be, David. How fantastically cruel?'
David waited, saying nothing. Maybe listening, maybe not. Johnny couldn't tell.
'Sometimes he makes us live.' "

I also reread Coraline by Neil Gaiman because I plan on seeing the movie this weekend. Again, a few quotes...

" It is astonishing just how much of what we are can be tied to the beds we wake up in in the morning, and it is astonishing how fragile that can be. "

" 'The world will be built new for you every morning. If you stay here, you can have whatever you want.'
Coraline sighed. 'You really don't understand, do you?' she said. 'I don't want whatever I want. Nobody does. Not really. What kind of fun would if be if I just got everything I ever wanted? Just like that, and it didn't mean anything. What then?' "

" 'Thank you Coraline,' said the other mother coldly, and her voice did not just come from her mouth. It came from the mist, and the fog, and the house, and the sky. She said, 'You know that I love you.'
And, despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true: the other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that she was a possession, nothing more. A tolerated pet, whose behavior was no longer amusing. "

Another Snow Day

We had another snow day, which was nice because I got to sleep in and do nothing all day. Aside from going for a walk (in the pouring rain, might I add), I didn't do anything except read and make pizza. I rented a movie last night, since everyone basically assumed we were going to have the day off, so I'm watching that in 20 minutes. But it will probably be sooner because I don't have much to say.

I'm wishing I wrote down my dream from last night as soon as I woke up, because now I can barely remember any of it. I know that Jessie was in it, because she keeps frigging IMing me and I feel like a bitch by ignoring her, so we "talk," I guess. God. This isn't part of my dream, this is real. So last night she IMed me before I had to go to sleep, and she ended up being in my dream. I remember that I was at the Milford Mall with Marisa, and we were wandering around the toystore, which was so brightly colored I felt the need th squint my eyes just to keep from going blind. I was walking around with the laptop in one hand, and typing with the other. Jessie wouldn't stop talking to me, and I remember smacking my gum loudly and telling Marisa, "This bitch never shuts up." Jessie said something about how she misses coming over my house, and before I knew what was going on, she basically invited herself over my house. I told Marisa we had to go back home. I wanted to tell Jessie to get the fuck out, but in my subconscious I knew I wouldn't be able to do that, not matter how badly I wanted to. Sure enough, when she showed up at my house, I turned my cringe into a forced smile and welcomed her. She wouldn't leave, and two hours later I was lying on the couch, letting her jump around and talk endlessly while I nodded and said, "mmhmm" at necessary parts. At the same time, there was some party going on at my house. Not a real party, you know, not the kind where there's flashing lights and dirty dancing and a DJ. It was the get together kind of party, with people milling around drinking and making small talk. My dad poked his head in the room and shot a glare at Jessie before turning to me. That was the worst part of it, I think...the fact that parents thought I was stupid and had no backbone by allowing her into the house. In real life, actually, my mom never liked the idea of Jessie and I being close friends. It just took me a long time to realize she was absolutely right.

She was fucking annoying.

She was dependent and clingy.

But I had been friends with her for so long that I kept her around just because I didn't know how to let her go. Still, I had done it eventually, and now in my dream world, my parents were disappointed in me again. I felt so ashamed. I moaned about my sister having stupid hoes for friends and here I was, relapsing and hanging out with the one friend who had never been and never will be good for me.

My dad said something about Tyler being here, and I did one of those palm-to-forehead smacks. I had been so preoccupied with loathing myself that I forgot I had invited him. I never thought he would come, but apparently he did. I bolted out of the room only to find the house bare and empty. There was a car turning out of the driveway and up the street, and when the car passed underneath the streetlight, I saw the outline of Tyler's face in the driver's seat.

New Semester

I'm happy midterms are over, but I'm not looking forward to gym. I'm going to miss my journalism class, and switching study halls almost every day is going to get annoying. But I can cope, easily. What I find strange about people, myself included, is that we always complain about our lives, and how we wish school was out and certain classes were over. But when summer comes along, despite the fact that it's nice to be out of school, you find yourself missing the people you saw every day and sitting in those classes. And by the time you go back to school the next year, everything will be changed again. People will look different, mostly older, and you will be sitting in new seats in new classes with unfamiliar. So as much as I'm complaining about school now, I'm going to take it one day at a time and not wish anything way, because in a few months I just might want it back.

On another topic, I'm not very good at being photographed, but there were a few decent photos from Friday night...

I don't particularly like the first one, but my friend was so damn excited when she took it, I had to post it. She thought I looked great, but I guess that's just her opinion. Personally I like the last one.

I'm just not a dress person.

Not Meant for the Party Scene

Last night was one of my best friend's sweet 16 party. I've known Kinnari since I was in 4th grade, and I've been close with her ever since she decorated my tree with flowers in the fifth grade. I don't usually go to parties if they're something big like a sweet 16, but Kinnari knows me too well. She would have known damn well if I said I couldn't go just because I didn't feel like it. Plus, she pretty much cornered me into unintentionally saying yes. She asked me if I had any plans for the Friday that midterms ended, and I said I didn't think so. She kept asking, "Are you suurree?" until I said, "Yes, I have no plans." And right then, I was roped into going to her party. First of all, wearing a dress was extremely awkward. I am not fond of wearing dresses in the first place, but because of that, when I do, everyone freaks out. They are all yelling at me, in an excited kind of way, and flashing cameras and telling me how pretty I am, as if it's that much different when I'm wearing jeans. It's partially flattering, but mostly overwhelming. Also, I don't dance. I'm pretty much incapable of dancing, especially in front of people, but if the music is really great, like at a concert or something, I can't help but dance around. Last night, though, was basically four hours of the worst music I've ever heard. Every song had the same frigging beat and...I don't even know. It was almost to the point where I needed to walk out of the room so I wouldn't have to hear it. Every ten minutes, one of my friends would literally drag me onto the dance floor, where I proceeded to stand there awkwardly until they looked away and I was able to escape. I was tired of smiling for cameras and making stupid conversations and basically lying through my teeth when Kinnari asked me if I was having a good time. Kinnari awkwardly danced with the guy she likes, twice, and I'm happy for her, but it also makes me plain depressed about myself.

When you love someone, you start giving up pieces of yourself to become what you think they would want you to be. You know they will never love you as you are now, so you coordinate your outfits around when you see them. If you bought a new shirt on Monday, but you pass by him in the halls on Wednesday, then you'll wait until Wednesday, even though the sensible part of your brain knows that it doesn't really matter. You pick up their phrases and their hand movements, and when they're upset, you're the one aching. When you love someone enough and you finally realize you might not have a fairy tale ending, you know what it's like to love and hate at the same time. You find it necessary to show them up, to be blunt when they smile and wave, or to look extra good not to impress them, but to make them wish they had gone for you to begin with. You make sure you're walking with someone, or laughing at a friend's funny comment, when they walk by, despite the fact that they're not even looking, and if they were, well, they don't give a damn.

Sue Me, I'm a Liar

I am a liar, but on second thought please don't sue me. This morning I asked my mother what I should do about staying after with the freshman from my journalism class, and she said that there's no right or wrong answer, and she's not going to tell me what to do, just that sometimes you need to do things for yourself and not others. So I messaged her on Facebook and said that my mother neglected to tell me I had a dentist appointment until the day before and I'm sorry but I can't make it after school today. I sent it early this morning and spent my free exam period nervous that she would find me and ask personally if I could come. I am a bad liar, and I might as well have, "THIS ISN'T THE TRUTH" stamped onto my forehead.

On the bright side, I didn't see her, but she messaged me back and said it was fine because she stayed during her lunch period instead. How convenient.

A few days ago, I was on the bus and Kinnari was talking to Liz, this girl who lives on my street. I've known her since kindergarten, and she's one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. So I can't say I have any envy or hidden rage towards her after hearing this, but apparently she likes Lee...that guy I thought I liked for two weeks or so. What's even worse is that he was texting her all night over the weekend, and saying some things I'd really rather not repeat.

I must be the type of girl who falls for guys that would rather watch me hit the ground.

Too Nice?

I don't know if being too nice is such a bad thing, but in some circumstances, I feel like it is. Around people I like or respect, I am always nice to them and considerate. But I feel that sometimes I give up too much for the sake of someone else, and they would not do the same for me. It makes me wonder whether I should continue living like this, or take karma into my own hands and treat people how they treat me. This is possibly a stupid example, but today I had my algebra midterm first thing in the morning, and then since I have 4th period lunch, I could leave early. I could have been out of my high school by 10 AM at the absolute latest, but I ended up being in school until 1 PM. It was one of those incidents where I took on too many things without realizing how I would regret these decisions later on. Originally, my plan was just to have my father or grandfather pick me up from school after my algebra midterm. However, my friend also had 4th period free and wanted me to stay with her. She wanted to study for bio with me, and even if we procrastinated studying, spending two hours with her is always pleasant. I agreed because I didn't want to make someone come and pick me up when I could always stick it out for two more hours and take the bus. While these thoughts ran through my mind, I wondered briefly if this was a legitmate reason or if I was trying to convince myself that it was. Then, one of the girls in my journalism class sent me her articles to edit, and mentioned that she was staying after in Mr. B's room both Wednesday and Thursday. Without thinking properly, I offered to stay after with her. After all, I am here editor. She said that was really nice of me, which was all the validation.
It wasn't until this morning that I realized I did not want to do either of these things. Really, I wanted to go home and take a nap and read a little, and then be rested so I'm not exhausted when I study for bio. I stuck through the two hours of doing NOTHING in the commons and then stayed after with the girl from my journalism class. Did I mention that I almost had a heart attack because I realized that she never emailed me back to confirm she was staying after? Yeah, I practically ran into Mr. B's room and asked breathlessly, "Is Allison staying after?!"
She was, to my relief. But it was also on the verge of torturous because, unsurprisingly, she has no layout done. Does she honestly expect to fill and properly lay out three pages in a few hours? It's not such a stretch for me, but I've been laying out in Adobe In Design for a year. I know how to work the program. She doesn't. I'm willing to help her, but really, should I be taking an hour and a half of my free time because she waited until the last minute to work on this? It is not even my project, and I was more anxious than she was.
I wonder if some of my actions are within reason, or if I convince myself they are.

On a spontaneous note, I am officially in Outsiders withdrawal. My uncle, who teaches alternative, drop out, and special education students in Shelton or Stratford or something with an "s," had his classes read the book. I don't know if it's part of the curriculum or if he thinks they can relate because half of them are probably in gangs. They finished the book, and apparently the class enjoyed it, which is good. Two or three weeks ago, my uncle borrowed the DVD from me, and now I miss it. Maybe knowing that it's not in my house, knowing that I cannot watch it if I want to, is what's making me miss it so much. Either way, I wanted to watch it as sort of a celebration of me making it out of my midterms alive and unscathed. Oh, well. I have Kinnari's sweet 16 party this Friday night anyway. Part of me is looking forward to it because I get to see my close friends, but part of me is absolutely terrified because
A) dresses make me feel awkward,
B) put me in anything but flat shoes and I will break something; "something" applying to both body parts and breakable objects
and
C) I don't dance.
I don't even have the ability to dance. That cotton eye joe shit everyone knew in elementary school was way over my head.
Also, I simply don't have the ability to loosen up and unravel like that in front of people.
That sort of makes it sound like I'm one of those people who blasts dance music while home alone and dances in her socks and a boa, with a brush as a makeshift microphone.
I am not one of those people.
I just don't dance.
Worst of all is that all of my friends are going to push me to do it, and they don't realize I can't.
Kinnari told me, "I'll get Liz and Jill and we'll teach you how to be a hoe on the dance floor!"
How am I supposed to say no without sounding like a bitch or letting them down?

2 Down, 3 To Go

I had my spanish and english midterms today, so that explains why I'm home early, although I would be home earlier if we didn't have a delay. Usually I pray for any extra sleep I can get but I wanted to get my midterms for the day over with. I got out at 12:50 instead of 11:25...but I guess it's not that big of a deal.
Tomorrow I have algebra, and then I'm hanging with Raksha in the commons because 4th period is my lunch.
There's obviously no midterms for that.
Then I'm staying after with the girl from my journalism class, because I'm her editor. I'd really rather go home, but you know...she needs my help, and I was in her position, I'd be pissed if my editor couldn't come because she didn't feel like it. So I'll go. Plus, it will take the stress away from Friday. That's when the journalism midterm is, and I don't have one because I'm in journalism II, but my job is to help out the J1 kids. They're pretty much slackers...which is why I'm nervous for Friday. I told them what they needed to do, and if they don't get it done...well, is that really my fault? The only other thing I could do is physically make them do it, or do it for them.
I'm going to stop stressing and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Midterms Suck

Mmm...that's about all I have to say.
I hate wasting my time studying when I know I won't remember any of this information in a week and probably won't need it for the rest of my life. But it's not like I'm going to allow myself to fail my midterms. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to let go like that, to let go of what doesn't really matter. But I can't. Or I won't let myself. It's just how I am.
Aside from school holding me back once again, I had a good weekend. I was able to see Marisa on Friday night. My sister and my father had a softball tournament up in Saratoga, New York, so the house was left to my mother and I. We went up to Marisa's house at 4 on Friday and had dinner. We went to Blockbuster and rented American Psycho, which was a really great movie. I went to the library the next day to get the book, but apparently it's been lost since August, so they have to file a request to borrow it from the Fairfield library. Marisa laughed at me because as soon as the words, "Based on the novel by..." came on the screen, I was like, "OOH, A BOOK!"
So Friday was a really great night. It was the hardest I've laughed in months, to be honest. Or maybe since the last time I hung out with them. We started laughing because there is one point in the movie where Patrick sprints around a corner, but he does this weird gallop thing with his legs, and we almost died. Then, when he calls his secretary, crying, to say that he won't be able to make it into the office, she starts asking if he's alright and what he needs. He yells, "STOP BEING SO FUCKING SAD!" There is a shot of the secretary, looking worried, the phone pressed to her ear, and you hear Patrick shout, "JESUS!" Except it sounds like he's yelling, "JAAAYSUS!" We fell into a fit of laughter and I ended up in a tangle of blankets on the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks because I was laughing so hard.
I'm always happier around my best friends.

I have to stop soon...I have to study some more for spanish. I really don't feel like doing that.
Sigh.
Oh and on top of all that schoolwork, I have a bunch of books to read and barely any time to read them.
This weekend I finished Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult and now I'm reading another one of her novels, Vanishing Acts. I have American Psycho to read when my library gets it in, and I have Desperation by Stephen King, which is a considerably long book. That might take a while.
After that, I need to read The Tenth Circle (another Picoult book) and Let The Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist. It was made into a movie, and I had wanted to see the movie...before I realized it wasn't in english and not playing in my theater. So the book is sufficient for now.
Not to mention that I still want to reread the Twilight series minus Breaking Dawn because that was just horrible. I feel guilty not getting through the whole thing...so I might try...but no promises. I want to reread my Anne Rice novels too.
Oh lordy.

Nightmare

I didn't realize when I changed the title of my blog from I am Jack's Mannequin to The Sky is Full of Dreams...that it would be extremely ironic. Ever since I changed it, I've written at least three blogs dealing with my dreams. I guess I should have suspected one of these nights I would have a nightmare, and put that here also. When I was younger, I had one recurring nightmare, but it wasn't that terrifying. Not the kind of nightmare where you jolt awake in a cold sweat and can't remember where you are.
Not the kind of nightmare I had last night.
As usual, there were a few different segments, almost two different dreams, but the last one stuck out to me. All I remember about the first one was that my family was swimming together in a large pool, and my mother started sobbing in the middle of the pool. I didn't know how to react, so I pretended like I was planning on reading anyway, and left. On my way out, I heard my mother say something like, "Have you ever thought of someone you love who has passed...and all of sudden it hits you harder than ever?" I knew she was talking about my uncle. Her brother. He died unexpectedly when I was in 8th grade. It was October 21, I think, which is kind of said just because I know the day he died but I don't know his birthday. Anyway, he died in his sleep at a friend's house. It had something to do with drugs or alcohol or, knowing my uncle, probably both. My parents never told me the full story because they don't know it themselves. Under normal circumstances I would suspect they were just withholding information from me, but I caught my mother researching drug related deaths multiple times.
I guess we'll never know, but if you want to know the truth, I don't lose any sleep over it.
If this sounds horrible, it's because it is: I didn't cry when he died, and I didn't attend his funeral.
Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.

On to my nightmare...
I was sitting on my bed, on the side that faces the rest of the room, and my friend Rebecca, who I sit with in lunch, was sprawled on the other side, her upper back against the wall. Algebra notes and worksheets were spread in front of us, which makes sense because in real life, she helps me with my algebra homework when I'm having trouble. Anyway, neither of us were working on algebra and didn't plan on it. I was holding two small vials in my hand, both of them fatal.
Rebecca and I, we had a suicide pact. I don't know why I didn't make her swallow her poison at the same time as me, but I didn't. I opened my vial and drank from it, expecting immediate blackness, maybe a flash of pain and then nothing. Emptiness. But nothing of the sort happened. My stomach felt a little strange, but I was still sitting on my bed, alive.
"What?!" I yelled, turning the vial in my hands to read the small print. It said something about how the poison would be in effect once the person was sleeping...meaning I would die peacefully in my sleep. But this time, all these extra minutes I was having now, they were giving me second thoughts. "What do I do?" I asked Rebecca, who shrugged nonchalantly, as if I asked whether I should buy apple or orange juice. I tried to shove the second vial into her hands, but she slowly shook her head and told me no.
"NO?" I boomed. "What do you mean NO?!"
"I mean, no," she said calmly.
"We had a fucking suicide pact, Rebecca. You don't back out of a suicide pact at the last minute. What we were you going to do, watch me die and then walk out of here like you don't know what the fuck just happened?"
She didn't response, but the silence was enough of an answer.
"Jesus Christ," I said, still fuming. "I can't believe you, Rebecca."
Just then, my mother knocked lightly on the door and asked, "Is everything alright in there?"
This was the first time she had bothered to check on us, since my whole family was downstairs having a party. It must have been a holiday, or a family member's birthday, but I guess I thought it was a good day to kill myself because there'd be so many people in the house, no one would accidentally walk in on me during the act.
"We're fine," Rebecca replied, chipper as ever. I glared at her. "We're just working on algebra homework."
"Okay," my mother replied. She was obviously satisfied with that monstrous lie. "Come downstairs whenever you're done."
I listened to her footsteps fade, and then felt inconsiderate for not saying anything sentimental, like, "Mom, I don't hate you, even if I've said it a million times," or "I'm going to miss you, and I'm sorry." But then she would have known something was wrong, that I was already on a downward spiral towards death, I would have rather let myself die in my sleep than be hospitalized and eventually moved to an institution under suicide watch.
Still, I had no idea what I was going to do. I thought of all the places I had yet to see, all the people I never said goodbye, everyone and everything I would leave hanging...and now I was having second thoughts. I was cursing myself for ever putting my lips to that vial. I was cursing myself for not reading the goddamn label first. Under the weight of all these decisions and burdens, I broke down. I sobbed on my bed, hunched over, unaware of what to do. Do I allow myself to fall asleep, and give up? Or do I stay awake for days and days, terrified to go to sleep because I might never open my eyes? How would I know when the poison was out of my system?
"I don't know," I sobbed, looking up at Rebecca. She stared down at me, blank faced and unsympathetic, and I wondered how I could ever trust her with something as serious as a suicide pact.
Maybe I just wanted a way out.
Maybe this wasn't about the pact anymore. Maybe it never was. It was about how I wanted to die, but I felt the need for someone else's approval first. I needed someone to be there, someone who I could place my false faith in.
"I don't know anything anymore," I said, quietly this time. I settled into a more comfortable position on the bed. Curled on my side, facing the wall, I said, "Good night, Rebecca."
And I closed my eyes.



I'm sorry if that disturbed anyone in the slightest. It disturbed me, too. I would up curled on my side, facing the wall, and flipped out. I was sweating even though I was shaking, and I didn't know where I was. Then I realized my mother was saying, "Laura, it's 5:30, wake up."
I realized it was just a nightmare.
Just a horrible, mind-bending nightmare.

On the bright side, it was the only school morning of the past two weeks in which I was thrilled to be awake.

Dreams, Again

I don't even have enough time to ramble about school or anything else unrelated to what I came here to talk about. So let's just leave it at this: I have no fucking time and I'm under so much pressure and I am the epitome of a stressed out catastrophe. Got it? Good.

Last night I only got about five hours of sleep, but I had two dreams, I want to get them in writing, like I usually do, before I forget. In the first dream, I was with my sister, my best friend Marisa, and her younger sister Katie. Our mothers dropped us off in front of a large building that looked like a cross between an abandoned factory and a run down school. It was evening, but the sky was more gray than dark blue. Everything looked surreal, as if I was trapped inside a video game. Everything I saw and touched glinted and shone as if painted on. The four of us had some sort of mission to complete in the cafeteria, and we were supposed to do it quickly, so we took off running. I'm convinced I was in a video game in my dream, because my legs felt controlled and mechanical, and most of all, distant and unreal. I was a puppet controlled an unseen puppeteer. We found the cafeteria and there were a lot of lights. That's all I remember. I remember the four of us mostly running around aimlessly and not getting anything accomplished, like in those video games where you're playing with another person and you can't leave the screen's view unless they're following. You'll end up running in place. Eventually we finished our mission. Whatever it was, I don't know. But afterwards we caught glimpses of two people we did not know, both of whom looked like a cross between a custodian and a security guard. We decided to play a Breakfast Club-esque game and see how long we could run around before one of them noticed us. We ran for a long time, at least two hours, all of us taking separate routes to make the game last longer. What was weird was that even as I was running by myself, I knew where Christie, Katie, and Marisa were. It was as if there was a small camera in my head that allowed me to peek into their lives. After, as I said, hours of jogging around this strange building, the four of us met up at the top of the stairs. We ran back down (we must really love running) to the first floor because our mothers were out there. Just as we passed a room, we realized, too late, that one of the two men was in there. We started sprinting, but the man was tall and his long strides easily caught up with my short, quick ones.
"What are you doing here?" he huffed.
"We finished the mission." My voice was cold and sharp, not at all like how I would usually address an intimidating man.
"You should have done that hours ago."
"We did." As if on cue, Marisa, Katie, and Christie caught up with me and we bolted ahead of the man. I winked at him.
We burst through the doors leading outside to see our mothers standing against the gray sports car they apparently owned. My mother was smoking a cigarette, even though she quit smoking in her twenties.
"What the fuck took you so long?" she growled. "Standin' out here for hours, dammit."
"It doesn't matter. We're done now," I answered.
The man, who I hadn't realized was beside me until now, spoke up. "I brought 'em out for you, ma'am." He tipped his hat, and I rolled my eyes in response.
"No, you didn't," I argued. "You followed us out."
My mother shot a glare at me.
"Why thank you, kind sir." She tossed the cigarette on the concrete in front of her and smothered it with her foot.

That was all.

My second dream took place at Starbucks, except everything was either red or maroon. Around Christmas, Starbucks had started giving out red cups with snowflakes on them instead of their normal cup. All of the walls were painted this color now, and the inside of the building was shaped like a lightning bolt. There was a counter where you could order a drink and two-person tables along the jagged walls, but in the middle were lab tables, the kind you see in high school biology and chemistry classes. I was sitting at one of the biology lab tables in the middle of the cafe, with my friend Raksha drinking a coffee to my left. She was chattering away, like her normal self, but all I could hear was my father's loud voice echoing in my ears. He was standing behind me, and I wondered who he could possibly be talking to, and why he was even at Starbucks in the first place. I turned around to glare at my father and noticed for the first time who he was talking to: Tyler's mother. I froze for a second and then tore my eyes away. She was a short woman, oddly enough, considering her whole family was above six feet. She had hair exactly like my mother's except a shade lighter. My mother went to high school with her, but I've always been scared to look her in the eye. As if, by just one look, she would be able to see through me and understand the real reason I went to church every Saturday: because I was irrevocably in love with her younger son.
So I turned away immediately, my face losing color. I pushed my drink away from me and Raksha immediately noticed.
"What? What?" she asked. Then she turned around. "Oh, oh, whatever! Whatever! Don't worry!" She pushed back her stool and began to do something in front of our lab table. I don't remember if it was a dance or a song or something...but she was trying to divert my attention away from who else was inevitably behind me. Ignoring Raksha's useless effort, I turned around the other way, and sure enough, there was Tyler. Looking at him felt like a kick to the stomach, as it has been feeling like that lately. I glanced briefly up at his face just as he looked at me. There were no smiles exchanged between us, just like church last Saturday. We just looked at each other, and then looked away. In my dream, however, after I turned around, Tyler said, "Hey." I turned only halfway around on my stool.
"Hey," I said quietly. My God, I sounded like a tortured animal.
"Isn't this the most god awful thing you've ever seen?" Tyler obviously didn't take note. I looked up and noticed that he had a large dry cleaning bag in his hand, and he unzipped the front to reveal a monstrously huge sweater. It was tan with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the front, and for a second I thought of Two-Bit. but I didn't mention that. Instead I said, "It's not horribly ugly." Tyler leaned forward a bit and cocked an eyebrow. My mind was stuck on Two-Bit, still, and controlling my shaking hands.
"Come on," he said. "Honestly." He shoved the sweater so it was right in front of my eyes.
"Okay." I gave in, pushing it back towards him. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "It is horribly ugly."
"Most god awful ugly as hell thing you've ever seen?"
"Absolutely." I glanced back at Raksha, who appeared to be performing an extravagent one woman dancing routine, and decided to get up and stand next to Tyler. We made quick small talk, but mostly we listened in on the conversation my father and his mother were having. I don't remember what they said, but their conversation was finished too soon. Tyler's mother said they had to go, and promptly walked out of Starbucks.
"Well, I gotta go," he said, patting my father on the shoulder. I didn't know they knew each other. Then he turned to me and bent down a little to hug me, his arms around my waist for only a brief second before he pulled back. I thought stupidly that maybe he was as smart as his mother, and he feared that if he hugged me, I would never let go. So he pulled back before I had a chance to hug him back. "See ya," he said, turning around to walk away, his mind already erasing the past fifteen minutes from his memory, his eyes already forgetting my face.

Stress Lifted Only To Have More Put Back On

Don't you just love how life works like that? I had so much stuff to study for and projects to work on this week, but luckily I had one snow day and a delay following that, so the week didn't seem as long. I feel accomplished because I think I scored pretty high on my spanish test, and I got a 100 on my English quiz. (Not that we do anything in that class anyway.) I finished my biology project two days early, and handed in my photojournalism project today. I still have tests and quizzes next week and I have to make up my midterm study guides for my classes but I'm taking tonight off. It feels good to relax. I'll probably read more later, as soon as I log off the computer.

Tomorrow it's supposed to snow six to ten inches, which is good, because I love snow, but it will probably keep me inside all day. That isn't such a bad thing though, because I'll get more work done that way. Marisa and I want to make plans again this weekend so as soon as I figure out whether I'm seeing her tomorrow or Sunday, I need to get my work done around that.

It's funny in a nice sort of way how you can spend days with someone you love and think you're going to grow tired of each other, but it turns out that as soon as you separate, you're missing them already.

In completely random and insignificant news, Jeff Thomas drawings are pretty much my favorite...

Second Snow Day!

Today was the second snow day we've had all year. I woke up and heard rain pattering against my house, so I didn't think we were going to get the day off. I heard it was supposed to snow from yesterday evening into the early morning, and then it would freeze over and possibly turn into rain by late morning. I was on the verge of getting out of bed when I realized my parents were downstairs, and I had woken up on my own accord. Which never happens during the week. So I looked at my clock and noticed it was 8:45 AM. 

It was such a good feeling to revisit: being refreshed and getting a good amount of sleep. I know it's only been two days since break ended, but still, I got more sleep last night than I did in the past two night combined. Did I mention that I fell back asleep with my book in my hand at 9:15 and slept till 11:15?

That was pretty great.

But don't be too jealous if you didn't have the day off. I started working on my bio project (that's due Friday) at 2 PM and didn't finish until quarter after 6. But hey, at least I got it done! I really needed the day off to work on my long term projects and such. It was a productive day.

In other random news, I have to do an insights project on one song that was made between 1963 and 1973. 

Key word being ONE song.

I know nothing about 60's music, so I asked my dad. He threw about 20 CDs at me. They're sitting in a monstrous pile on my dresser.

Then he came up to my room with 10 more records.

OUR RECORD PLAYER DOESN'T EVEN WORK!

Oh, well, I guess that's where I get my love for music.

Theories on Donnie Darko

Before I forget, I need to save these theories somewhere, for when I watch the movie next time:

xnoxrewindsx (8:12:30 PM): YOU SAID YOU HAD NEW THEORIES.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:12:43 PM): about?
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:12:57 PM): Donnie Darko?
xnoxrewindsx (8:13:26 PM): yez.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:15:24 PM): Okay well, one of the first things I thought I understood was that Frank was the only one who time traveled. I know that much is true, but I figured it out because when he took off his mask, his right eye was bleeding and swollen, which is what happens when Donnie shoots him. BUT then I realized than Donnie stabs the mirror directly where's Frank's right eye is. So I know that Frank is the one time traveling but I just got lost as to how Frank's eye was like that, which incident it came from. Maybe both, I don't know.
xnoxrewindsx (8:16:48 PM): I just always assumed it was the gunshot wound, because there was, like a forcefeild when he tried to stab frank
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:17:58 PM): True, but I think Frank's head kind of bounced back at the mirror part, and there's that growing white light which could mean Donnie was breaking through the field. I dunno, I'm just overthinking that.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:18:02 PM): Another thing is
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:20:09 PM): I was wondering why Frank even cares enough to go through all the time traveling to give Donnie that choice. Besides being the bunny, his actual character didn't seem too significant. I was thinking that he was feeling guilty because he was the one who ran over Donnie's girlfriend and this was a way of easing his conscience. That way, no matter what Donnie chose, he technically couldn't be blamed because by that point it's more Donnie's fault than his, if he chooses for all that to happen.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:20:39 PM): That's what I was thinking.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:21:15 PM): But then I realized that the piece of the plane falling was Frank's doing in the first place, so didn't he spark it all to begin with?
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:21:18 PM): But maybe...
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:21:23 PM): okay now i'm thinking out loud
xnoxrewindsx (8:21:38 PM): how long is this theory?
xnoxrewindsx (8:21:45 PM): okay okay okay, I got kicked off, what was the second theory?
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:21:58 PM): wait, what's the last thing you got?
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:22:08 PM): (and its not really a theory, it's just my random thoughts)
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:22:09 PM): haha
xnoxrewindsx (8:22:27 PM): no I got all of that
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:22:38 PM): you got everything so far?
xnoxrewindsx (8:23:01 PM): mhm
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:23:17 PM): okay but maybe
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:23:22 PM): maybe everything would have happened anyway
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:23:31 PM): it wasn't dependent on the piece of the plane crashing
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:23:52 PM): that was just the what Frank needed to provide Donnie with the choice at the end.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:25:42 PM): So now I guess I'm back to my original idea, that Frank was trying to clear his conscience. But I still want to know if he accessed all the time travel information from Roberta Sparrow, and I also want to know how Roberta Sparrow got that in the first place. She seems to be the one who started it, and the professor said it was like she changed overnight, literally, so something must have gotten to her. I want to know what happened.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:26:24 PM): I never understood why she was always checking her mailbox but maybe she knew that letter from Donnie was going to come, she just didn't know when.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:26:32 PM): But how would she know that, you know?
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:26:36 PM): Okay, one more thing:
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:27:35 PM): When I was reading the synopsis for the movie, it said that Frank the bunny was provoking Donnie to commit all those vandalisms and crimes, but I don't think so. It seemed more like he was just showing Donnie what he was going to do.
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:27:59 PM): I iz done. I think.
xnoxrewindsx (8:28:24 PM): okayz
WishWashedAwayx3 (8:28:46 PM): feedback?
xnoxrewindsx (8:29:30 PM): Well, that's what I saw it as...Donnie seeing the future and feeling either the need to fufill it, or feeling that he didn't have a choice

I NEED ANSWERS.

Time Travel

Now, I'm the farthest you can get from being a scientist. I can barely call myself a biology student. And I'm sure there are many more educated people out there who can explain the dynamics of time travel, weigh the pros and cons, and probably provide you with an armful of nonfiction books about it.
But last night, while I was having trouble sleeping, I was scrolling through the artists on my iPod. I couldn't decide what to listen to, and sometimes that is when you find the perfect album. Except you don't know it right away, but once it starts playing, you realize how perfect it is that you chose that album.

Maybe all of that just happens to me.

But this is what happened last night, when I was at a loss of what to listen to, and settled for the James Blunt's Back to Bedlam.

Listening to him again is probably the closest to time travel I will ever get. That's the beauty of music, really. There's something so amazing about how a song can take you back to a moment, or a day, or a year, and it almost feels like you're there, reliving it. You almost wish you're there. That's why we hold on to songs for so long. Songs that people remember from decades ago are thought of today because of how great and impactful they were during that time period. The key phrase is "that time period." They will always be a tribute to what was happening at the time the song was recorded. When I was younger, I never understood what my parents or grandparents meant when they said, "Oh, that takes me back." Now, I think I understand, Maybe not to that extent, because it's not as if I'm reminiscing from 50 years ago. But still, it's the same feeling.

I bought James Blunt's album when I was in 8th grade, just because I swooned over that hit single, "You're Beautiful." This was before the days where I previewed all the songs on iTunes beforehand and double and triple checked to make sure I really wanted this album before buying it. This was when I still carried around that red CD player with the holes that were made to look like bubbles. And the headphones that went all the way over my head. Before everyone had those little buds you could sneak in your ear when class got boring or you just weren't too engaged in that conversation with your friend. This was before my parents bought me my first iPod. This album was the first imported into iTunes, I was in the FYE in the Milford Mall, and when my dad took the CD from me, he was concerned because it had a parental advisory sticker on the back. I told him that a man who sings "You're Beautiful" can't have too much of a potty mouth. (Ironically, that song ended up being the one where he dropped the F bomb and I practically dropped my jaw.)

It was winter when I really got into that album. I would sit in the downstairs room and play it on the big stereo while my dad was stuck shoveling snow in the driveway. I knew this because when I sat up against wall, I could make out his figure through the shades covering the window. At the time it made me feel rebellious to see my dad working when I didn't have to, but now I feel bad for even feeling like that. We had the crappiest computer that was buried deep in the corner of our basement. The only light came from a single lightbulb hanging from a chain. I had seen enough scary movies (AKA Goosebumps movies) to know that I should stay away. The furnace was down there too, which I had convinced myself for years was a monster that made strange noises when you got too close.

So I decided to use the old laptop. Which was equally crappy. But I was satisfied.

I would lounge there, on the floor, downstairs, with a crappy laptop and the old house phone (before I dropped it in the toilet) cradled between my ear and shoulder. That was when I was close friends with Jessie, and Nicole was all of a sudden mad at me, so it was just me and Jess. We badmouthed her most of the time, saying how stupid she was because I didn't do anything, and she was such a slut, and she needed to grow up and--

I still loved her as a best friend, but I was upset. That was the kind of attitude I had back in 8th grade, I thought that if I masked my feelings with something neutral, like anger, then they weren't there at all. That was when Jessie and I wrote a fanfiction that, not surprisingly, bashed Nicole. We called it Barbara and Walter because we were too scared to write Nicole and Dally as the document title.

That was when I held onto my 7th grade yearbook like it was a lifesaver, because Tyler was going to high school now, and that small square picture was all I had left.
That was when I still believed we would work out.
That was when pictures like these could be found all over my wall and screensaver:

That was when school was easy as hell, and I didn't have to worry about going to college or finding a job or picking my major. That was when my sister and I could still hang out. As stupid as it sounds, I miss living in that separate world I lived in when I was twelve, when I sat by the front door on the phone again, and giggled, saying, "I can't believe I talked to you until 2 AM last night! Oh my god!" I remember being sprawled on the couch downstairs, chewing on that ugly watch I wore every day, when Jessie asked, "Are you tired or something? You're slurring." And I laughed so loud I thought my parents were going to wake up. "No," I replied, still giggling. "I'm chewing my watch!"

That was forever our inside joke. "Hey Laura, are you tired or just chewing your watch?" "Wait, what? I didn't catch that. Were you chewing your watch again?" "You and that damn watch, Laura, really."

I fell asleep almost thinking I was twelve again, being stupid and carefree, and writing lame fanfictions.

The boyfriend I would never have because fictional characters are just that: fictional.

Waking up this morning as a fifteen year old sophomore, having to face my load of schoolwork and the looming future...it was just about the most depressing thing I've ever done.

FML

I have to go back to school tomorrow. God, this sucks. It's sort of unfair that we get twelve nice, relaxing days off and then they drag us back into school for another five fucking months. Not only that, but I have a quiz on Tuesday in biology class, which I am going to fail, just for the record, and I still haven't gotten that test back, which I DEFINITELY failed.

Just for the record.

I'm procrastinating homework right now.

I wonder how many depressing Sundays I've spent blogging about how much I hate school/my life/everyone and everything.

I'm such a downer. 

Now that Christmas and the holidays are over, I want it to be summer more than ever. Up until now, I had no issue with winter except for the fact that my house was freezing all the time because my mom refuses to turn the heat on. But that's a different story. I welcomed snow and ice and all that...but now I just want it to be summer.

I woke up this morning and it was so sunny, I almost believed seasons could change overnight. Then I saw the remains of snow on the ground.

:|

Been Slackin'

I don't mean I've been slacking when it comes to blogging either, I mean with mostly everything else.
The only things I've done this Christmas break are read, watch movies, and spent almost the whole week with my best friend.
But I guess that's what vacations are for, right?
What sucks is that it's almost over. Oh my God. Only tomorrow and Sunday, and then the next day I am back at school, the last place in the world I want to be. Well, maybe not the last, but it's pretty far down the list. I don't want to face anything I have to do. God, I feel depressed just writing this.
I need to stop now.
I don't feel like writing this anymore.
Before I go, I just want to state my New Year's resolution. For the record, I never do this. Every year, my New Year's resolution is to not have a New Year's resolution.
Sometimes that makes me feel clever.
Other times it makes me feel uncommitted and lazy.
Sometimes I make a New Year's resolution and then when I break it, I pretend I never had one in the first place.
I am a horrible person.
But this year, for real, I have one. I'm going to lose 15 pounds, and keep it off.
It's going to happen.
Mark my words.
If it doesn't, someone can fucking smack me and call me all the names I deserve to be called.
Stupid.
Lazy.
Uncommitted.
Failure.

I will make it happen.

Completely off topic, but my sister is downstairs watching Girl, Interrupted. Apparently, she loves the movie now, even though she saw the second half first, on account of the fact that she fell asleep on my best friend's lap and missed the beginning. But now she's watching the whole thing, and making her boyfriend watch it too. I can hear bits and pieces from where I am, and I know what part she's at right now.
But for all the confidence I claim to have and for all the fear I provoke in this kid, my sister's boyfriend, I can't bring myself to go downstairs and watch it with them.