Is it Seriously Christmas?

I had school today. Yes, school, as in a full day of education. On December twenty-third.

Today is my Christmas Eve with my father and stepmo. Tomorrow is my Christmas Day with them.

I'll be working from two until seven.

Then Christmas Eve with my mother, and then Christmas Day with her family. From there, it's all pretty cool. Christmas with my sisters on the twenty-sixth, my dad's family on the twenty-eighth, gnocchi and Wicked [again] on the twenty-ninth, work on the thirtieth, New Year's Eve on the thirty-first...

This week is going to fly. It doesn't even feel like Christmas. Not even a little bit. I don't know why...

Maybe because I've had no time to even think about the holiday. No Christmas music on the piano, no special decorating, nothing. I haven't had time to enjoy a single weekend since Thanksgiving.

But even if it doesn't feel like a holiday, I'm going to enjoy this reprieve from school. It's very needed, and very deserved...

So happy Christmas, kids. Celebrate with your family and love the time off while it lasts. :]

Me Atrapa...

Lol sorry about the Spanish. I have an addiction to that language, I swear...

But I am seriously trapped in my house. Have been all weekend. Except for work, of course, which really doesn't count as escaping, considering that it's about as confining.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. And I love the people there. It's just that when you feel like crap and there's ten thousand customers screaming at you over stupid, stupid, stupid stuff, you kinda want to go home.

People are so rude! I can't believe how incredibly awful I've been treated by customers this weekend. Friday wasn't too horrible, only because we were slow because of the snow. But yesterday was absolutely terrible. Lines out the door. Hundreds of angry, frustrated shoppers, all hell-bent on taking their fury out on someone innocent.

Someone like me.

Between Pager Guy [see a couple of posts ago] and Green Tea Guy [someone who blew up at my friend Thing 1], we've had our share of idiots. Oh, and yesterday! Let me tell you about yesterday, oh my god...

There are people who think that Panera is Subway. Seriously. They can't read signs. They get themselves convinced that they can walk in and "create their own" sandwich. It's a god complex.

Well, when it takes us an extra second to try and figure out what the hell these people want, they get PISSED. Not angry. Not upset. Pissed. They yell and bicker and act like we're the illiterate ones.

So here's a warning to the world: Panera is not Subway. You CANNOT create your own sandwich. If you want to modify an existing sandwich, be my guest. I could do that all day. But don't you dare try to walk in all high and mighty and demand that we pluck a magic button out of thin air that tells the line workers exactly what you want.

Sorry. Rant for the day. So freaking frustrating, being yelled at for someone else's stupidity.

Words I'll Probably Never Say Aloud

If I could...God, if I could only convince the world to right itself. To become self-sufficient and less selfish. To forgive me all I've done, and then forget.

I long to be freed from my own perspective. I see so much more than I wish to see, know so much more about people than I will ever care to know. You're all a bunch of open books, did you know? Empty, scrawling books, with messy handwriting in an ink only I can read.

So many of you want nothing at all, and that makes my heart ache. How can I help you to see what lies ahead? How can I teach you to accept the future when I can hardly do so myself?

My heart...it's breaking.

Shattering. A noise, a clamour, so much louder than expected. I never thought I could hear the sound of frustration ripping a soul in two.

I hear it all. I see it all. I feel everything that every single one of you can feel.

A light shines up ahead, can you see it? Can you hear the laughter? The rush of elated emotion... That's what I want. That's all I want. For you, for them, for him, for her.

For me.

One day, I'm going to reach the end of the tunnel. And I'm going to run screaming into the sunlight, my hair whipping out behind me, my eyes really seeing for the first time. Ears really hearing. Mind really feeling.

And everything I'll feel will be beautiful and pure.

I Won't Need a Map

My goal is to be lost.

I want to drift and float about in such a daydream that I am neither here nor there, but everywhere. I want to get caught up in my own creations until I can barely separate fiction from reality.

I want to write.

My characters are more of a comfort to me than any real people possibly could be. They're safe, a secure place to rest my head at night. They're a part of me that I had lost.

Ever since life became so out of whack, the unreal is all I care to know.

So don't mind me. I will wander this way and that, here and there and everywhere. And I'll enjoy it.

Incompetence at its Finest

Today I got called "effing incompetent" by a customer [edited expletive, obviously]. It was an adventure, let me tell you...

The best part wasn't when he started yelling. Or when he threw a penny a me. Or even when he went off on me in language that I dare not repeat on here [because, quite frankly, I don't want to burn in hell for ruining your innocent eyes].

No, the best part was when everyone working at that time pretty much tried to kill him, all at once.

I've never felt so cared for. Within seconds, I was out of the harmful situation and safe, and people who really and truly care about me were defending me, protecting me. I was allowed ample time to collect myself before returning to work, and even the co-workers I barely know were concerned about how I was reacting to such violent verbal abuse.

They care. And for that, I will always be thankful. I've said before that they're like a big family to me, and I mean it. With all my heart.

You guys are the best. Thank you for being there. Always. :]

Yuck, Snow.

Snow is pretty, yes, but for all intents and purposes, its useless. Totally useless.

Except, of course, if you want to kill me.

Yesterday I drove home from work in the snow...and I had never driven in the snow before in my life. Very interesting ride. Took me about 10 extra minutes because I was so terrified of spinning out in the neighborhoods.

I hate winter. I've come to that conclusion. I just hate it.

Yuck. Three more months of this crap. Just yuck.

Five Days

Saturday night, long ride
Lungs tire from the strain
Of singing our hearts out.
Radio so high
Can't hear ourselves think.
Short walk, hands cold
Hate to say goodbye like that:
"I'll bet we'll find our way back soon."
Four.

Stay up late, wake up late
Lounging with my conscience
Jokes and laughter and ha!
Then a wow...
Disbelief at those little words
Never saw it coming:
"Are you serious?"
Three.

Day with the rest of the world
Secret sighs and long hours
Telling everyone our tale
We're so proud of this.
But something's missing
Something's gone
Missing that something just kills me:
"No, there's no answer."
Two.

Rebounding so quickly, effortlessly
Not shallow, but true.
Emotions cloud the thoughts
Unable to do the same
Because of the broken record
Inside the mind:
"Alone...alone...alone...alone..."
One.

Knead a Family?

[Ha, ha. Bread jokes. Welcome to my life as a Panera Bread employee...]

I never really noticed until this weekend how much my coworkers at Panera mean to me. We are quite literally a huge family, complete with weirdos and crazies like any other.

Bear with me while I think up nicknames for them all...got 'em.

Papa Burgundy [donde esta la biblioteca?] is the crazy uncle you love to hang with at the family parties. Mr. Right is the big brother I wish I had, and although making fun of me is his preferred hobby, he's one of my favorite people on this planet. TheCrumbKiller is the goofy cousin you only sometimes cross. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are the favorite cousins that are ABSOLUTELY amazing. Mo-Mo is the full-of-advice cousin, and MBfromTennessee is the aunt who loves you no matter what you do wrong. Postcard loves to make fun of you but greets you with "Hello, beautiful!" and a smile. The traditionally BOH people are the distant cousins that are full of silly sarcasm and have great taste in music. Tay-Tay's the relative who loves to gossip about all the others yet can still keep them as friends. Keener's that cousin that's always in trouble [for no reason] and often hits people with her car. Oh,Schick! is the comic relief cousin, and his mom is the most awake morning person I've ever met...other than CurlyJen or ElbowGrease, of course.

And the rest are all part of this big, happy family, too.

We really and truly care about each other. Everyone. No matter what goes wrong or who messes up, we're there for each other, through thick slices and thin slices. [Ah, bread jokes.]

So I love you guys. With all my heart. Thanks for making work a place I love to be. :]

Surprise!

Definitely never saw this coming...
Out of thin air
A striped balloon! cascading
Over silly little rivers
Like a cloud.

You're so innocently vague
I'm so innocent
Such a goofy way to be
Laugh out loud
Like a dream.

Stop! and smell the air
The salty breath on your tongue
I'm so happy
That I never saw it coming
A surprise
Like
This.

"So I Could Make More as a Prostitute in DC??"

I love my family.

It's Thanksgiving, and we've spent the majority of the day together. My three favorite cousins are here [love them!] and we're having a splendid time.

The best topic of discussion so far was how I could totally make more money as a prostitute in DC than as any sort of educated professional.

That's so sad. Well, what makes it sad is that it's entirely true. And if I didn't have morals, values, or a life, I would consider it. :P

I love my family. Lol. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. :]

Houston, Tenemos Un Problema.

We have a serious problem.

I have five days of no school.

Tomorrow is the only one of those days I won't be working or family-ing.

And I actually have plans.

Plans? What are those? Fun? What is that?

I haven't had freedom in so long, I've forgotten what it feels like. And that's a serious problem.

The cure? Tomorrow. Thank god.

Hallelujah, It's Raining Sense!

Ever wake up and realize that some of the people you've known your whole life really and truly know nothing about you?

Some of them do. Some of them get it.

And some of them think you're somebody else.

It's not that they don't care. It's that they don't care to pay attention. What you do isn't as important as some of what the others do, so you can take the backseat and just be grateful they let you in the car for once and didn't make you walk.

And what you do--everything you do--will probably never be good enough for them. Not when compared. Not when contrasted to all the wonderful things they can do.

You'll never be good enough. Never...



Ever wake up and realize that you stopped caring about being good enough for them? That you're ready to move on with your life, to bigger and better people and things? That everything they've ever told you has been twisted, convoluted, and ridiculous? That you're more important than they make you feel?

I think I just did.

And I don't think I'm going to ever let them walk on me again.

Bad Friend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY [ON THE 18TH], DANZ!!

Sorry I missed it, ol' mate. You know me...bad friend award...

See you soon [hopefully] and don't do anything I wouldn't do up at MSU ;]

So Gross.

I worked 11-6 yesterday and babysat with Maddy afterward. We then attempted to do physics [lol] at 11 pm, which turned out to be a total joke.

Nobody can think about conservation of energy when they're too tired to even keep their eyes open.

So I came home and collapsed. I woke up fifteen minutes ago, and I just noticed that I still smell like Panera.

Absolutely disgusting. I will never shake the smell of bread from my skin. Everybody wonders why I complain about that, seeing as the smell of Panera is a good one, but I have to disagree.

In the air, the smell of fresh-baked bread is good. On bread itself, it's good. Even co-mingled with the scents of pastries and soups, it's good.

But on a human body--a body that is tired and sweating from being around 400-degree oven for seven hours--the smell of bread is less than appetizing. Much less.

So I'm going to go shower. Maybe twice. And hopefully when I'm done my hair won't smell like coffee, or French onion, or sourdough, or asiago cheese...

I Never Lied.

I said exactly what I thought
I said what I felt and what I heard
I told truths so violently untrue
That I felt so sure I'd be heard and betrayed
But I never lied.

I gave you everything I knew
I gave up my fears and my hopes
I dreamed of what I wouldn't say
That I feared my hopes would vanish
But I never lied.

And you were a rogue
A spiteful hand, an untrained tongue
Words like venom stung my system
Words like fire froze my heart
And you saw it all.

I tried being all and nothing perfect
I tried to live and to breathe
I tried so hard.
I tried so, so hard.
I tried living by breathing
That hardest thing I've ever done
But I never lied.

And you were a rogue
A spiteful hand, an untrained tongue
Words like venom stung my system
Words like fire broke my heart
And you saw nothing.

And I wanted to be there
I wanted my love and my soul
I loved having a soul of my own
That I could bend at will
--And I bent it at will, at my own will--
But I never lied.

Manipulated my soul, maybe.
But confidently, now:
No, I never lied.

Excuse Me, I Have to Matriculate.

[please, look it up if you don't know what it means...]

I TOTALLY FORGOT TO MENTION ON HERE THAT I GOT ACCEPTED TO THE HONORS COLLEGE AT MICHIGAN STATE.

!

So I got into the college I strongly wish to attend, and it makes me happy. They're also giving me some good money for a professorial assistantship, and that makes me happy.

Maddy got in too!!! Can't separate us twins, after all [jk...we're not conjoined]. We'll be rooming together, and I'm ridiculously excited. :] :] :]

And the rest of my family?

Kailey's waiting for a reply from Central Michigan, a place that she and I know like the back of our hands. The only university we might know a little bit better is University of Tennessee...because we could navigate that one in our sleep. She's looking around, too, checking out her options, searching the skies.

Cassie got three state times for swim last week, and that will look very beautiful on her swim resume for college. Grand Valley State is looking at her, and she's also shopping around to check out her choices. [She, too, could navigate U of T in her sleep, by the way.]

Pinksie got into University of Detroit Mercy and is looking forward to an ambitious career in medicine. She's got a few other colleges to check out, but she knows what she wants out of life--and gosh darn it, if I know my oldest sister, she'll get it.

Debbie, Lyrika, Things 1, Thing 2, and everyone else in this world that I love is also doing the college stuff right now. We're all so busy, sometimes we forget how to relax...how to have fun...how to breathe...

But it's worth it. So worth it. We're going places in this lifetime, I swear we are.

Work is absolutely normal, which is perfectly abnormal by normal standards. School is hilarious, but I feel like I haven't been there more than I have. Mono, you know. Takes a lot out of you.

DI is running deliciously. Literally, deliciously. We had brownies last Thursday, and they were freaking good. But the DI skit itself is going swimmingly [ha, ha, pun... our skit takes place in the ocean... get it?] and we accomplished almost all our mid-November goals in an hour and a half at the last meeting.

What can I say? We deliver, damnit. We're awesome at this.

Let's see... Community service clubs are great, NHS is great, my writing's been atrocious lately, piano-playing has actually been good recently... umm... Not much else, really.

I'm busy, yet so not. Explain that.

The Reason

There's not much I really want to write.

When can we end 2008 and move on to better things?

Death Do Me Destroy

I'm awake. That's saying something, considering I've been asleep off and on since Thursday at 2:30 pm.

And when I say off and on, I actually mean that I sleep for four hours, stay awake for less then one, sleep for five hours, awake for one, sleep for three hours, awake for ten minutes, etc. Off and on.

See, guys, the doctor's pretty sure I've got mono. Which essentially sucks. I lost my voice again, and my face is a faucet. And all I do is sleep.

So don't expect much from me on here. Because it won't exactly be quality reading, you know?

If Only For Awhile

Last night, for the first time in what feels like ages, I was united with my two older sisters and my younger sister. The four of us spent the evening together, forgetting about all the stupid stuff that's been threatening to drive us apart.

For once, if only for a little while, I felt whole.

Cassie's entire life has been consumed by swimming, just as Pinks' has been devoured by work. Kailey got laid off [sorry, hon] and she and I drive to school together, so I see her often, but I very rarely get to see the other two. I see Maddy every single day in school, and usually on the weekends, too; if she'd been there last night, I would have been even more complete.

So I see Maddy and Kailey, no big deal. But seeing my older sisters--much less both at the same time--is a next-to-impossible feat, considering that my own life now consists solely of responsibilities.

School, homework, work, DI, college stuff, sleep. Shower and repeat frequently.

But yesterday night, totally undisturbed by all of those things, I got to see my sisters. Amazing. :]

People don't understand the driving power of sibling love. They're my sisters, so very much a part of me that it's almost hard to differentiate. I love them with all my heart, even when we're all under the influence of PMS and ready to kill each other. Even then.

Sisters for life, friends for longer. And that is what's going to keep me sane.

Lesson #25: Hot vs. Cold

These things I have learned from working at Panera:

Boiling water makes things hot.

Ice makes things cold.

Coffee, containing boiling water, feels hot when poured down a leg.

Mango smoothies, containing ice, feel cold when poured down an arm.

Both are equally uncomfortable and ought to be avoided.

Unless, of course, you're me, much too uncoordinated for your own health and safety.

October? It's Me, Again

Dear October,

I demand an explanation.

You weren't supposed to come around again, you dastardly bastard. Last year's confusion was enough, what with the rumors of your alleged disappearance and calendar-altering decisions. Did you really need to rub it in this time?

I don't need relationships with months like you, darn it. You're selfish and stupid and angry and sad, and I'm tired of you. November's much less obnoxious, and January and I had that little fling going on... See? I don't need you. I can find other months. Eleven other months, actually.

So go away. Please...?

Tell April she'd better behave next year, and make sure August knows he's supposed to arrive after July, not directly after June. There may have been a mix-up last time, and I don't think I can tolerate it again.

October, I loathe everything about you. You're a jerk of the very worst kind.

October... I think I hate you.

Yours annually,
Abby

Maybe There's Something in the Fall

Your smile... Well, it kills me, because it's the same one I used to wear. And I know it's not right, it's not pretty, and it's never fair, but it's true.

And the truth will set you free. Maybe.

I walk with you in strange places we've never been yet know to perfection, with winding roads that lead to vacant valleys and shallow hollows with sighing leaves. There's a crackle on the sidewalk, and a snap to the footsteps, and it makes my heart sink into my chest.

It's almost here.

Icicles close in, though I know it's far too warm. Your breath is hot and I'm shivering without a coat. Some days I smile, some days I laugh. Most days I sigh. My hands are trembling, but not from fear or joy--just from going through the motions.

That's what they said. Run through those damn motions.

It's almost here.

Plastic or paper matters little, because we'll all be trapped in ice sooner or later. Probably sooner. Your breath is frozen, steam turned to icicles, dripping from your lips. I'm entranced by the image of you, ghostly white, falling, falling, falling...

Falling faster, faster faster. Falling still. Colder than the deepest hell.

Somebody killed beauty while she slept up in that silly tower.

She's vanished.

It's here.

For Katy

My grandmother passed away on Friday, October 10, 2008. As a final tribute to the wonderful woman she was, all of the grandchildren put together a beautiful board covered in writing, pictures, memories, etc. I was asked to write a poem, and I found it fitting to share it here.

Goodbye, Grandma C. We love you and we're glad you made it home.

For Katy

Narrow way, my road two lanes
A sudden fork breaks my thought
Lined with houses, window panes
A third road I had never sought

The people, unlike many I’d met
A closely-knit-together bunch
At the center, two people set
Upon dissolving any crunch

One of the two, a fire fierce
Presiding over jocular din
Stubborn grin, eyes set to pierce
Any who dared cross her kin

Love, dependent not on blood
Nor on the quantity of days
Rather, on the enduring flood
Of care that fueled her blaze

Welcoming, with softened words
That took down ancient fences
Familial, sweet, something absurd
Evinced flaws in my defenses

Now time, he’s but a funny friend
A reminder of present and past
Whispering darkly, of an end
Of the fire that would pass

Narrow way, the road three lanes
A sudden fall breaks our run
The candles low in window panes
But her fire still burns on.

Me, Being Strange.

Oh, all the things I've seen and not seen. Sometimes I wonder what lies invisible to me, just out of reach, felt but not touched...

You know?

I can be in a room with just a few people and feel like there's a crowd behind me. I feel it. I can sense the emotions, like I've said a million times before. It's not clear, or precise, or sometimes even accurate. Inaccuracy is sort of rare in this gift of mine, but it does happen every now and then, when someone is especially good at faking.

But I feel the presence of people. People that aren't nearby...at all. I don't think it's weird, though, because it's probably just my own emotions going haywire. I don't know, maybe?

Strangeness. I live in such an odd world. And I really, truly, passionately love it.

Stutters and Wrongs

The walls are closing in.

Left, right
I hear the echos of the cries
I hear the tears of joy and pain
I hear the empty, hollow thoughts.

Above, below
I feel the conflict in the eyes
I feel the terror felt in vain
I feel the time so often sought.

Around, within
I see the truth one so denies
I see the loss in battle's gain
I see the lies that had been bought.

Left--right
Above--below
Around--within
The walls are closing in.

Ohhhctober.

I have approximately 2 minutes to "chill" so I figured I'd update this guy. Yes, I'm pretty sure my blog is male, because it acts moody and immature and refuses to cooperate all the time...

Anyway. Life's been a series of ridiculous roller coasters lately. Last week was long. Homecoming was very fun on Saturday. And today, I'm sick as a dog [again] and I left school early to mend. I also had to call into work, something I am very not happy about doing.

But whatever. Too late now, right? I've got a fever and I want to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next ten years. It's not enough that I already slept all day. However, there will be no ten-year nap.

Right now I'm doing an English project [waiting for one member's slides, so I have a few minutes] and then I'm working on my Yale application. I already finished the one for MSU and I'm almost done with Oakland [my "backup in case MSU gets blown up," as my mother says] so within the next week or so I should be golden in the application category. My absolutely wonderful teachers have agreed to do the evaluation forms for the Yale app, so that's all settled...

Sorry, I'm running through my mental list of things to do. There's way too many of them, you see, and I'm not sure how to accomplish it all.

Oh, and I got made fun of the other day for having a blog and not putting my real name on it. A teacher found that--to be frank--rather "stupid." I resisted the urge to laugh for these reasons:

1. He's a rather arrogant guy who never thinks he's wrong,
2. He really doesn't get computer-age topics,
3. I'd rather have a blog than ten empty friendships, and
4. I have better things to do than put my real name out there and get raped.

Ha. What a day. What a week. What a month.

Goodnight.

I Thought I Heard Your Thoughts

There's a dream and a reality
A practical state of MIA
A radical practicality
So stunning, so dreamlike

A quality I can't quite taste
Fingertips tracing pretty frost patterns
You're soaring high above me
Yet so far below my expectations

I'll be, you'll be
Don't wait up for me this time
Solidly invisible and loudly unheard
Somehow a miracle occurs

Tiptoe on murky glass
Your words echo in my own
Squared shoulders to frame the heart
Cast of stone to set it straight

I saw you there
Saw you standing in the shadows
I saw you, I felt your presence
I promised to honor this
And I will
Keep searching in the corners of my eyes.

I Hurt.

I am so, so, so, so sore. Hurts to walk and such. I worked 4 to 10 on Friday and 8 to 5 yesterday, and I don't think I'm ever going to recover.

They had me working all over the place. First bakery [because we don't serve regular food at opening], then cafe register, then back to bakery. I worked most of my time in bakery, obviously, and though that is one of the coolest places to be, I was still VERY ready to go home by three pm.

Doesn't help that I'm still sick. My voice is back [well, right now it's my "morning voice" and it's all scratchy and gross] but I'm absolutely dragging. Steroids are helping tremendously...not resting is not.

I'm still not supposed to abuse my voice, and guess what I did all day yesterday? If I can't talk again next week, I will be royally and furiously angry.

Oh, and I'm ridiculously melodramatic when I'm sick, so expect these posts to be that way. Can't help it--I can't sleep right now, and it's making me cranky. Very cranky.

Argh. I'll post sometime later this week. I won't have time tomorrow, I'm working four to ten...shoot me in the foot...

"Fake it like you matter--that's a lie we can both keep."

FOB, Sending Postcards From a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here). Love that song.

I've noticed that people are a bit self-righteous. Have you noticed that?

Makes me laugh a little. So what if you're better than me at something? Get over it. I could kick yours in something else. In quite a few things, actually.

So what if you finally beat me at my own game? Doesn't mean I have to acknowledge it. Doesn't mean you have to rub it in every single day.

And so what if you finally shattered me, broke me down, reduced me to nothing in others' eyes?

Doesn't mean I deserve to hear you say those nasty things about me. You don't even let me turn around so you can do the talking behind my back...

So get over yourself. Fake it like you matter, and maybe I won't smear your name to the people who do. Because despite the fact that you think they won't believe me, I'm pretty sure they would.

So what? :]

Silence, Fool!

Oh, funny story. I haven't had a voice since Monday.

Laryngitis, much? I sound like a chain smoker. Ridiculous.

Today I gained back some volume, but it lasted only until about the middle of fifth hour. From there on out, it's been nothingness coming out of my mouth.

I just tried to sing along to my playlist [I listen to it when I'm on my laptop... Tongue Tied was playing lol] and I quite literally cannot make singing noises. Not that my singing was anything wonderful to begin with, but now it's just strained silence.

Funny, isn't it? I've spent the past few days screaming to be heard in a whisper. And I've spent the majority of my life always having something to say.

Sucks a bit. I lie... Sucks majorly.

Michigandering [Yes, It's a Verb.]

I read this article just now about some personality profile done to analyze the fifty states. Quite comical, actually.

My home state, however, was not mentioned. I'm wondering how Michigan came out...

My best guess? Michiganders are just plain tough. We deal with a freezing winter, a sweltering summer, endless downpours in spring, and rapid daylight loss in fall. Our economy has gone to hell and ALL of our highways suck. Construction is a constant hassle and road rage a second nature. We call our soda "pop" and get made fun of for it. Oh, and the mayor of our most well-known city is in jail right now with a few felonies under his belt...and our news stations won't shut up about it.

If I had to pick another trait, I would go with proud. Despite all the crap we put up with, we brag incessantly. We have amazingly beautiful trees in autumn, a history that few other states could understand, and universities that can't be rivaled. Everywhere you go, there's a lake and a shore you can enjoy, and damn it, we've got two peninsulas. What other state has yoopers and trolls?

So we're arrogant fighters to the core. We can insult our state, but don't you dare try it, or we'll throw down so hard you'll be in Texas by next Tuesday.

And you don't want to be all the way down there, do you?

Damnsel in Distress

Note the "n" there. Ha, ha. Irony. Sounds like "damn," get it?

Anyway.

I fall down. A lot. More than the average human should. I run into stationary objects, I collide with moving objects, I fall up and down stairs, I forget how to walk sometimes, and I take corners too sharply...and smack the entire side of my body on the door frame.

So I'm not exactly graceful, you might say. In fact, I'm the antithesis to any graceful action. I am the equal and opposite reaction that Newton warned us about. The clumsy little thing your mother warned you about.

But I would not call myself a "damsel in distress." See, the whole "in distress" part seems to imply that the damsel is not always in such a state. She doesn't usually trip over that crack in the sidewalk, only every now and then.

I trip over it every time. And I'm really no damsel--that implies elegance, and a certain desire to be saved from a tall tower by a handsomely ignorant prince.

Not a damsel. Just perpetually distressed.

Happy Things

I don't really want the world to think I see the glass as perpetually half-empty, so let's fill this blog halfway up with happy things. :]

First and foremost, my new profile image. It's me and my youngest cousin [youngest out of ALL of them, mind you!], whom we shall call D-Van on here. He's absolutely adorable, and I love that picture of the two of us.

Second, cider mills. Went to one today with my family and our neighbors, who also happen to have two adorable children. The oldest just learned her address and likes to recite it randomly--she's a very good little girl--and her brother laughs at everything.

Third, Panera babies. I saw the cutest little kids on Friday at work. Twins, a boy and a girl, less than a year old, curled up together in their stroller. One of the purest, nicest, most beautiful things I've ever seen in my whole life. Of course, they had those piercing eyes, the kind that see straight through to your soul and make your heart melt.

Of course, there are happy things that don't involve children, too. Like movies that came out when I was little that are now free with OnDemand. Or books I haven't read in years winding up next to my bed because I finally dusted them off.

Or taking a nap on a backyard swing, drifting in and out while writing a journal entry to my sister in our sacred NoteBook.

Like I said, happy things. My glass isn't half-empty. It just has to be refilled every now and then.

Lesson #24: Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.

I ate a bunch of almonds today while I was at the cider mill.

I'm allergic to almonds.

I feel not so great and my face is numb.

I'm very, very, very stupid.

Is this even possible?

I didn't know it could happen. I didn't realize that I could feel an emotion this deep.

I never knew anyone could do what you've done and get away with it.

I'm your doormat. Your stepladder. Your last resort. You see only what you can get from me and nothing more. You think I can withstand anything you throw at me. You think I'm tough enough to handle rejection and exclusion without shedding a tear.

I'm nothing but an accessory with a functioning mind.

And I'm about done with it all.

Ten Degrees of Awful

I feel like terribleness, all rolled up in misery.

What a great way to spend my first free weekend.

Apple orchard today with Kailey, possibly concert tonight for Disko's [my somewhat younger--but much taller--brother] band, and then enough homework to keep me busy ALL day tomorrow.

I will have fun, definitely. But I won't be feeling nicely. :/

Oh, Shut the Front Door.

Thanks, Cass, for that lovely phrase. That's what big sisters are for--to teach the little ones alternative methods of expressing rage. :]

I refuse to speak of school in this post, so don't worry about that. Nothing could prompt me to talk about that infernal place.

Here's my newest dealio:

College mail.

If I get one more letter from Grinnell College [whatever the hell that is] I'm going to light my shoes on fire.

If Evansville, Hope, Knox, Calvin, Eastern, Western, Lake Superior State, Renesselaur, Johns Hopkins, Yale, and the millions of others really think I'm interested in them, wouldn't they have to have some sort of evidence of that interest? A survey I took where I mentioned them, or a phone call? Or anything?

They have nothing. I've never even heard of most of these schools. I have no interest in them whatsoever.

In the past three days, I've gotten so much college mail that the mail barely fits inside the mailbox. I get more letters than the rest of my family combined.

My sisters are totally bogged, too, so much so that I'm considering having a bonfire this weekend just to dispose of some of it. My house is full of this crap.

Disgusting. If I wanted you, I would say so. So go away.

Please.

"They Speak in Clever Tongues..."

There were days that I loved you, days that I hated you, hours that I needed you more than oxygen, hours that I needed you like a brain aneurysm, minutes that passed slowly in your absence, minutes that passed slowly in your presence, seconds that felt too sweet to last, seconds that felt too bitter to last.

We were all going to go to heaven when we were done.

We were all going to go straight to hell when it was over.

There were weeks when the days blurred, the hours melted, the minutes spun, and the seconds sped. There were times when I felt I could not love, hate, need, or feel anymore.

We were heading down a path I couldn't wait to travel.

We were heading down a road that no man could ever traverse.

There was time. There was none. There were people. There was no one. There were words. There was silence.

And in the thick of it all, there was me. And you.

Round Trip, Much?

So today I had the pleasure of filling out an informational form that my school gave to each of us in the top ten [of the class rankings]. It was kind of comical, actually.

Scholarships? None...yet. Special awards? Umm. Yeah.

And then, my favorite question: Something unique about myself.

Lol. If only they knew.

Anyway... Maddy and I were watching Ghost Hunters tonight [while "doing English"] and it definitely got me thinking. See, I'm not afraid of death. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, and I'll just keep saying it because it's true.

I'm not afraid to die. Pain? Well, I don't exactly look forward to that, really, but since I fall down so much anyway it shouldn't be anything shocking...

But along the same lines, I'm not afraid of the dead, either. If a ghost was to be sitting next to me right now, I would honestly be okay with that. Sure, I'm not about to go wandering around a creepy house at night, but I think it's more the living creepies that prevent me from doing so.

The dead, I've come to believe, are quite a bit nicer than the living, and actually have a purpose. Most of us just wander around aimlessly; they're here for a reason, and for that reason specifically.

And since I've done nothing to hurt them, they have no reason to hurt me. I respect them. I do my best to understand them, though that's mildly impossible.

Are the dead among us? Hell, yes. Open your eyes. I'm not talking about orbs and EMFs and poltergeists [lol "I will be your personal poltergeist"...from Stardust]. I'm talking about souls.

I have to believe they're here. Because if they weren't, I wouldn't be able to feel things the way I do. If souls weren't immortal, I wouldn't be able to perceive emotions like this--with that everlasting color imprint left on my mental eye. I feel it often in places where visible humans aren't standing...

They're nowhere and everywhere. I feel it. And though I've always told myself to trust fact over feeling, this time, they're the same thing.

Because the fact feels completely right.

I'll Turn Around So You Can Talk

Whirl me around, words like ice
I've forgotten how it felt to be
So arctic, so cold
Such an ancient misunderstanding

Your personality speaks quite loud,
Thanks
I can hear you across the quiet room
Leave it alone, let the topic fall

Awkward is my middle name
Well, sort of.

Vague probably fits better.
This is a mess, a tragedy
Except we don't get to finish it
I'm calling you out

Leave it, me, all of it alone
I'm over this
Or at least, I will be
Very quickly and with a smile.

Habitual Idiocy

I have this really bad tendency to pick the guys that are worst for me. It's just what I do. And I can never figure out why I'm so stupid.

I don't love them. The thought of ever loving one of them makes me laugh out loud. I just decide that they might deserve my attention, and then they let me down by being absolutely ridiculous.

I'm an idiot. :[

Oh, well. Off to school. Off to learn things I don't want to know and to see things I couldn't care less to see. Then to work, to earn a paycheck that will pay for me to go to more school...to learn more...

Oh, well.

Lesson #23

There will always be individuals in this world who are too concerned about themselves to really care about you.

We call them humans.

Must [Not] Love Dogs

Another season, another stupid dog show for DI fundraising. Today I stood in the rain and watched a bunch of crazy people run their dogs around a course.

Water ran down my coat and onto my jeans, through my hood and down my face, and through all three layers of clothing I was wearing. I have been home for about twenty minutes [after the twenty minute car ride] and my hands are still shaking from the cold.

I don't know how long it will take me to warm up, but it'll be awhile. And I can already feel myself getting sick.

Oh, the joys of DI. If it didn't completely own my life, I wouldn't be willing to do these kinds of things.

Well, maybe I would, I suppose, if it was sunny...

If I Could Explain

There's something in the way your eyes
Can pierce right through my truths and lies
Your innate calm is frightening, so
I'm trying hard to keep control

There's something that you wouldn't guess
A secret I must keep suppressed
It's loathsome, somehow justified
And to tell you, I have tried

There's something in the way I break
That spreads the fear across your face
You think I may not see it, but
I feel how hard the terror's struck

There's something in my choking fear
I watch your eyes, hiding small tears
To see me cry would make you pause
And I would see the hurt I'd caused

There's something in my shaking hands
I see you want to make demands
You want my promise to relent
I want your word you won't forget

There's something in the way your eyes
Can pierce right through my truths and lies
Your innate calm is frightening, so
I'm trying hard to keep control...

No Homework?!?! :O [gasp]

For the first time since school started, I have zero homework for tonight. Or as my physics buddies Anakin and RoyGBrown say, "nay homework."

THAT MAKES ME RIDICULOUSLY HAPPY. :D

So right now I'm waiting for my loaf of bread to rise and listening to some Secondhand Serenade, at my mother's request. Right now she's poking me in the side and making me jump.

Yes, I baked a loaf of bread. Are you really shocked? I've done everything except bread from scratch, and I figured now would be a good time. I have zero plans for tonight...zero homework...zero desire to do anything except bake bread and maybe go for a long walk with my little sister...

Hmm. That actually sounds really good. I think I'll quit blogging, eat dinner, and then summon Kailey. I'll try Pinksie, too, but she probably has to work tonight. I'll ask Maddy too...

I love having five sisters. Makes life more like an adventure and less of a chore. :]

Law & Triscuits

I'm only human. And unfortunately, like any other human, I have my addictions.

The newest: Law & Order with a box of Triscuits.

Is that normal? I don't think so. I finally got out of my hummus phase around mid-August, so now I've moved on to just Triscuits. They really do taste better with a good L&O rerun, too...

So the past two days--which have sucked more than school days usually suck--I have spent a good hour and a half laying on the couch in my family room munching on Triscuits and occasionally falling asleep.

It's sort of...nice. I don't have to think. I don't even have to stay conscious, if I so choose. I can just sit there and stare blankly at a pretty talking TV and throw a cracker into my mouth every few minutes.

Oh, humans. So impulsive. So weird. Well, I am, anyway.

Maniacal Insomniac...al?

Another night, lying awake when I should be asleep. Do you think it's even possible for me to get the recommended eight hours on a week night?

Ha. That's a little funny.

I do everything I can. I try music. I try books. I try boring books. I try counting things. I try counting in Spanish. I try speaking Spanish to myself. I take the vitamin my doctor raved about, and do you think it actually makes me sleep?

Not right now, it doesn't. Want to know why? I'll tell you anyway.

I. Am. Stressed. Out.

To the breaking point. Nerves like live wires. Feeling like the victim of an incredibly intense round of jeopardy [I HATE that show].

I want to sleep. I want to dream. Well, that's a maybe, considering the whole end-with-my-own-demise thing, but even that's getting to be the norm...

I want to be unconscious for at least seven hours in order to put my life back in line.

This weekend, I work Friday four to ten; Saturday I work the infamous DI dog show fundraiser from 7 [that's AM, folks] until I have to go to my real work from four to ten; Sunday I'm back at the dog show until/unless I have to do killer amounts of homework [which already seems like a huge possibility, and it's only Monday]; and then Monday, after being busy all freaking weekend, I have to go to school and then work again from four to ten. Then homework, and then Tuesday...

Mehh. I want summer back. Or graduation, one of the two.

Right now. Before I lose it.

El Primer Día [Y Otras Cosas, También]

Ah. First day of school. Well, yesterday.

Decent schedule, I suppose. Maybe. My two elective hours essentially suck, but the other classes seem worthwhile.

My schedule follows as such: AP English, AP Physics, AP Calc, Med/Health, AP Spanish, Physiology.

Maddy and I are the only girls in AP Physics. Embarrassing.

AP English and AP Calc are exactly as demanding I expected them to be.

Med/Health and physiology are exactly as ridiculous as I expected them to be.

AP Spanish is stimulating and very interesting. Señora only speaks Spanish now, absolutely no English, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that I can understand everything she says without having to translate in my head.

Overall? I've had two very, very, very long days. Mentally and physically exhausting.

Cassie and Kailey are on the mend. I miss them, and Pinks, too. And Maddy. And Lyrika. And Debbie...

And I'm going to bed soon. My eyes won't stay open.

Goodnight.

There is no title that correctly fits the emotion of this post.

Cassie and Kailey were in a rollover car accident on Sunday night.

They're both okay--if by "okay" I mean covered in bruises and cuts, but alive. I saw them both today, much to my relief, and got a firsthand account of what went down. They've each picked their favorite battle wound...

Cassie's new [new for her] car was totalled. We had christened him Emmett--same as the massively strong vampire in Twilight--and it only seems fitting that he would indeed be "badass to the end," as Cassie put it. The car saved both their lives, and in doing so, took a severe beating.

Cassie, the driver, was not at fault, and no one else was hurt. An enormous SUV was driving toward them on a tight dirt road, riding the middle as if it owned the street. Cassie swerved to avoid a head-on collision, and her car went tumbling off the bank on the edge of the shoulder. It was a purely accidental accident.

The other car kept going.

As I said, they're both okay. Wonderful people stopped to help them, and Cassie was somehow strong enough to hold herself together while Kailey fell apart. Together they dealt with the trauma that followed, showing a kind of bravery I feel I must commend.

Both are struggling through the physical damage [so, so sore] and doing their best to cope with the emotional aftermath. I am doing everything in my power to take care of them, as are their relieved families. They will be okay, even though it will be rough for awhile. :[

I am eternally thankful that my sisters are alive. It is downright miraculous that I was able to see them, hug them, hear their voices today... Life without them would never be worth living, and I will always remember to appreciate each day I have in their company.

I love you so much, guys. So much that I can't even put it in words. I've never felt so terrified in my whole life as when Cassie called to tell me what had happened. Remember that I will always love you, no matter what, and that life is too fragile to waste.

That's the part about this that is the hardest, knowing that two lives could have ended so quickly. They were so close... It frightens me beyond words.

I love you, and I'm so happy--is that a strong enough word?--that I get to keep you. Forever.

Curse You, Books...

Is there any sane reason why I should be absolutely starving at two in the morning?

Is there any sane reason why I should be awake at two in the morning?

Oh, that's right. I'm crazy. And addicted to literature, be it someone else's creation or my own.

I've worked on Common so much this week that I feel like I've actually accomplished something for once. And that's really saying something, coming from me.

Of course, I feel like I haven't slept in a week, either. Not because I haven't [ex: woke up at 12:45 PM yesterday], but because my sleep schedule is all out of whack. Seems to always happen whenever I get a new idea for a book.

Damn you, writing. You always have to make it difficult...

Whimsy

I bought a ring today. I'm not usually an impulsive person [too practical, gosh darn it] but on a total whim I went to the mall by myself and bought shoes, rings, bread, and ice cream.

The bread was free [courtesy of my employee card], the ice cream was a gift for someone else, the shoes were necessary, and one of the rings was 1/2 off because of a sale [why not?].

But the other ring--my favorite of the two--was a completely impulsive purchase. I don't need another ring. I honestly had no reason to buy it. Yet I did.

It's silver [always silver for me], and is simply three thin silver strands braided around my finger. It's not even real silver--I love cheap jewelry--and probably will be bent out of shape within the next two months.

And I can be confident that it'll be bent because I intend to wear it as often as possible.

It's on the third finger of my left hand, the finger that I normally use for rings just out of habit [most comfortable, least irritating]. But this one means more than the others have.

One strand for who I used to be. One for who I now am. And the third for all the lifetime that connected the two.

It's me being intertwined with my own life, immersing myself in all the little twists that have altered me so completely. Finding reality has consumed my life for so long now... I feel like I'm married to it, to that whole concept.

So on my left hand this ring will stay. I'm married to this reality until someone comes along and offers me a better one.

A better reality, and perhaps a more expensive ring...

Dancing vs. Prancing

Like most five-year-old girls, I like to skip.

Except I'm seventeen.

But I really do skip. I run through the house instead of walking. I dash up the stairs [two at a time!] and dart and prance my way through the halls. It's so much more fun than just forcing myself to go from point A to point B. If makes my life more exciting.

Well, at work, I've tried to control my prancing, just to seem professional. But now that I've gotten to know almost everyone and they all know I'm not a silly ninny, I feel entirely comfortable whistling and humming and skipping about. I love to twirl and spin, too, but I try to avoid that at work, because I usually run into something whenever I try it...

There are also times when prancing just isn't enough. I get a song stuck in my head, and the beat quite literally takes over. The result is dancing, sometimes singing, too. I don't dance or sing at work [don't want to frighten my employers] but when I'm at home I dance all over the place and sing at the top of my lungs. I prefer the house to be empty, but if my mother and brother are home, it usually doesn't bother me.

Do I sing well? Eh, not really. Not at all, actually. I can beat the "easy" level on those singing video games and such, but then again, who can't? [100% on Dead On Arrival, ladies and gentlemen. Be jealous.] Do I dance well? Definitely not. My rhythm is decent but I just can't dance.

And does that bother me in any way?

Nope. :D

Lesson #22 [Extended Version]

Here's what I know.

I am a somewhat intelligent seventeen-year-old female who thrives on the emotions of other human beings.
I am a survivor of the strong type.
It is a guarantee that the clothes I love the most will be the ones that absolutely cannot be made to fit.
I am incredibly selfish when it comes to information and knowledge, but totally selfless whenever I stop to make a wish.
Wishing, in fact, is my biggest childish tendency.
I love food much more than I should, and I am perpetually hungry.
Being "girly" means "being superficial for a few hours" and being "boyish" just means "not fitting the socially accepted mold set for young girls."
I am open-minded and nonconfrontational until offended or provoked.
I drink my tea with honey and just a bit of sugar, and I always burn my tongue.
I want a prestigious education not for the diploma, but for the way an arrogant man's eyes pop open when he hears a girl can do better than he can.
I am morbidly afraid of fire and burns, but not even the least bit afraid of the concept of death.
And everything I know about myself has the potential to change in an instant.


Here's what I thought I knew.

The world is good and kind and loving.
People should always share.
Love and peace make the world go round.
Everyone cares whether I fail or succeed, and there will always be a shoulder to lean on.
Friends are perfect and rarely make mistakes.
Boys will pay attention to you if you're a good person.
You can be more than just an average human if only you dream it to be so.
You won't wake up looking ugly unless you tell yourself that you are.
All people are equal and everyone recognizes this fact.
Torture and war are a part of previous centuries, not the modern day world.
Love conquers all.


Here's what I learned that made the difference between those two.

In general, people are disgusting and messy and too self-absorbed for their own good.
Love is merely an emotion, and it cannot heal all wounds.
Neither can time.
Brains are okay, but wisdom is better, and the only way to gain the latter is to open the eyes and pay attention to reality.
Theories are exactly that--just theories--and the actual outcome can never, ever be guaranteed.
Being different isn't that great after all, but it's sure better than being the same, so it's best to find a middle ground.
Political arguments are pretty much the most ridiculous waste of time I've ever had the displeasure of enduring.
Going "green" doesn't have meaning, because EVERYONE says they're doing it [and they aren't!].
Standing up for what you believe in is stupid unless somebody listens; otherwise, it's just an empty, pointless belief.
Very few people care if you succeed; more will care to see you fail, and that's not really caring, is it?
You actually don't have to forgive people for their mistakes, including yourself, because some sins are too heavy to be shoved under the rug.
You don't have to be entirely rational about forgiveness, either.
Past creates present, and together they make future.
Emotions are honestly and truly choices, though mastering the ability to control them can be a nightmare.
Boys don't give a damn if you're a "good person"--at least, not until they graduate from high school.
"Peace" pretty much can't happen [considering that all the torture and war inhibits it greatly].
You can't wish yourself to look differently.
People actually aren't equal, but it's not race, gender, religion, or age that separates the groups; it's all based on individual value, and no human being has the right to judge another's value.
Everyone wants something from you and by golly, they're going to get it, no matter how much it hurts.
And finally: There is so, so much that I will never understand about this world that to form a permanent opinion about anything would be profoundly and utterly ignorant.