marriage

would be incredibly strange.

I don't think I'd be able to last the span of an engagement. Or, rather, I think it'd be disappointing to wait and wait and wait to be married, knowing that it's going to happen but not doing it, and then have the Big Day arrive and it be less than you thought it would. Wouldn't it be romantic (yes, I said romantic) if you just woke up one day, knew that you wanted to be married, and said, "Hey, let's get married." I think that would be wonderful. And I don't understand why women don't take their husbands' last names. I mean, I understand the reason, sure. But I don't see why anyway. "I don't want to lose my identity." That's not what it's about. It's more about melding and devotion.

I don't know. Maybe it's because (shocker) I've never been married. Or "in love." And maybe my belief on the subject will make it difficult (if not impossible) for this to ever happen.

But it'd work in a novel, now, wouldn't it?

DeaTH

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Not in a weird, suicidal way. In the natural way that people should be curious.

There are so many theories about what happens after we die. Are we reborn? Do we ascend to the Kingdom of Heaven? Do we descend to the Kingdom of Hell? Are we, like the Jehovah's Witnesses believe, picked out of a line and doomed to spend the rest of eternity in our graves (which, I would think, would lead to the tombstone-being-you thing I was talking about). But there are more, so many more.

I don't know if I mentioned the book I read a while ago, called Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin (you should definitely check it out). It proposes that once we die, we take a journey to another place where we become younger each year until we become babies again, and are shipped back to Earth. I don't actually like that theory at all. De-age? You become younger, but each year, your wiser. It goes against the natural order.

There's also The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom, which basically says that when you die, you meet five people in heaven that impacted your life in ways you never understood. YOU understand why for everything you every wanted to know.

Then there's the whole matter of vampires: dying, but still living. I like the idea of vampires, I think, but I really hate the idea that they actually live. I don't know if that makes sense.

But in this past little while, where I've actually hurt people because of what I believe, and die hard Christians like my father and (though she hasn't said it) probably my best friend actually believe I am going to hell, I've come up with my own ideas. It's basically a mix of a lot of ideas. But, I think, when we die, our souls go to a place where everything is explained to you. You can look down on those you love. But really, it's like the life flashing before your eyes bit. You see it all in an instant. Then your soul move on.

So that's my intense thought of the day.

history

I read something in my history book last night about a man who translated the Bible to an Algonquian language. And I thought about it a little bit. A man would have to know the Bible pretty intimately to be able to translate it. He would have to care. And that's the kind of faith I think most people should aim to have.

did i seriously

write "It inspires me?" Okay, shoot me now. No, seriously. I won't even move. Apparently, having a cold enables me to write incredibly cliche lines. So, there's that. Even though it does. Inspire me, that is.

Now I have to go start on "makeup" work, that I got a day early. Woot.

to sleep

last night, I read a book. Not really a long book. It normally takes me about 30 minutes to read it. Jinx, by Margaret Wild. It's a wonderful book, and it always makes me laugh and cry, even in the short span it takes to read it. It's written in these short spurts, like the author could only think of a little bit about a little person a little bit at a time. Even through my sleepy and congested state, I love that book. It inspires me.

when I'm sick

I always hallucinate SOMETHING. Yeah, that sounds weird. What I mean is, when I'm not feeling up to scratch, I get these weird, convoluted dreams. Sometimes they scare me. Sometimes they make me laugh. But most of the time, they're good ideas.

Last night I had a dream about a graveyard. Okay, that sounds frightening. BUT, it wasn't. People kept coming up to this one tombstone, one after the other, over a period of months, talking to it. You know. "I graduated college." "I'm getting married." "You'd be so proud of me." And there was always a voice that replied, but the people went on talking, like they didn't hear it. When I woke up, I realized that it was the tombstone. Or rather, it was the dead person's tombstone. A whole story popped into my head. We are what our gravemarkers are. Some people, obviously, are lost. But people fortunate (or not so fortunate) get to commune through their graves. And that's how they keep up with people. How they watch over earth. And it almost made me cry.

So that's my idea of the day.

Winter

is really my favorite season. I was thinking about that earlier, because my nose is all clogged up. I think staying in Kelsie's dusty basement gave me a sinus infection. Gah.

Anyway. Normally, I'm stuffy like this when it's cold out. And my mom's like, premeno, so the house is FREEZING. I just stood up once to go get more tissue, and I thought about how I like feeling sick when it's cold. I like EVERYTHING when it's cold. Because there's always a way to make something better. You can always find a way to get warm, and at least one of your problems is solved. If you just got robbed, and it's cold, grab a blanket, it won't seem so bad. Bloody nose? A jacket my help put things in perspective.

I think it's the Nyquil talking. Crazy Nyquil. Sure, it'll make me spout crazy things, but it won't enable me to finish my homework, including but not limited to a Chem lab that didn't finish, a Socratic Seminar on The Scarlet Letter, and reading Chapter Two in my APUSH book. Oh yeah. Thanks bunches, Nyquil.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do

My mom sent me these, and I thought they were hilarious:

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

holding hands

is just such an incredibly simple, wonderful act. Hands tell so much about a person. How hard they work, where they write their notes, who they love, what jewelry they wear, and what they're like sometimes. Earlier this morning, I held Adam's little hand. Even though it was lost in the desert of my own, it fit. He kept it there for the five minutes that we just sat there. Even when he moved, he made sure he didn't let go of my hand. He actually made sure that they didn't separate. I don't think anybody's ever held my hand like that. Like they had no thoughts of letting it go, and like it was the most natural thing in the world. Every time I've held someone's hand, they've always waited to let it go. I've always waited to let it go. But with a little child who is barely four years old, I was amazed that he didn't think that way. When do we get to where it's not okay to touch other people? When do we get to the point where it is?

le promise

Before summer ending last year, we three made a promise that we would see eachother at least once a week. And we did. When school started back, we were worried that wouldn't work. So far, though, it has. Last night I spent the night at Kelsie's. Her aunt is incredibly kind, and her family really loves one another. It's fantastic.

That, and I got to watch The Day After Tomorrow. "Oh no! It's the cold! Aghh!" Seriously wonderful dialogue, ha. And Adam kept going around hitting people's butts, so finally I turned around and yelled, "Quit smacking my booty!" I don't think he'd ever hear those two key words, and he kept repeating the phrase over and over until 'booty' became 'boobies.' He seemed to think it was hilarious though. What a little sweetheart. He couldn't find Kelsie, who was hiding, and we said that maybe she went to school. We told him he had to go get her, and he said he couldn't. "Why?" me and Katie asked him. "Because I don't have my keys or my driver's license." Honestly. How adorable is that?

psyched

about prom. Okay, we haven't actually done anything. We haven't picked a place. But me and G have pretty much guaranteed spots, so we KNOW we're going. And today, as I was looking for a place to maybe have it, Joe suggested the Fabulous Fox. And it's wonderful, of course. The cost is a lot, but there is supposedly a discount for proms. And then I looked at some dresses. And then some limos. Because that's how I roll, of course.

Spongebob: "Why are you mad, Patrick?"
Patrick: "Because I can't see my forehead."

holy conquistador!

I think my teacher thinks that I'm stalking him now. Or in love with him. Probably both. But it's not my fault. Today he decided to dress like a 16th century explorer. And it was awesome. I don't know why I'm reacting the way I am. But it was just....cool. I LOVED it. I kept looking up at him and giggling. I couldn't help it. And I HAD to high-five him at the end of class. Because I'm sure secretly I've always harbored the desire to high-five a 16th century explorer.

And then, when me and Gracie left the SC meeting (at 5 freaking o clock) and went to her locker, he left his classroom, and I saw him, and I jumped up and squealed. Seriously. And he waved at that, and then I waved super enthusiastically back. Then I made Gracie walk faster so I could stalk him to his car. But I guess I missed him.

Today was fantastic.

spice girls

So when me and Kirstie were kids, we were ALWAYS characters from movies we'd seen. We constantly fought over who got to be Tina from The Mask, because she was like, our idol. And then, out of nowhere, the Spice Girls came out. And. We. Loved. Them. I, of course, was Baby Spice, aka Emma Bunton. She? Posh Spice, aka Victoria Beckham (whose maiden name I don't remember). Every time she came over, we'd sing into the radio, and sometimes we'd dress up and mom and Jackie would videotape us. And Spice World came out. And we watched that all the time.

The reason I'm writing about this?
Joey downloaded the Spice Girls CDs. And I'm in love all over again. I wish we could burn them so I could listen to them all the time, but as it is I'm perfectly content to just sit at the computer and listen, though I can't dance like I wish I could.

Ah. I figured this post would be a nice change from my recent incredibly depressing posts.


**You may wonder why I'm posting every day. In Writer's Workshop, we're supposed to keep a journal. I've tried keeping a penned journal before, and it didn't work for me. I think too fast for that. So I think I'll either print these out or ask her to check the whole blog out. Which is kinda personal. But I promise, I won't be writing for anybody else anymore. I'm done with pleasing people for the sake of pleasing people, trust me.

i just realized what i'm doing

I've been getting home and not doing my homework. But still thinking about my homework. And I end up eating tons of food, and drinking sodas, and reading books, and watching television. I'm stressing. I'm depressing. I need to calm down. But it's hard for me to do that, when I'm cycled up like this.

And all that seems to help is working. Yesterday when I was cleaning, I thought about how peaceful it was. Especially when no one else was around, or when it wasn't like, a commanded chore. I'm starting to get reckless with my driving again. Because I've gotten to the point where I don't care. Even today, that's what Gracie said to me. "You look like you just don't care." And it's like all day, I was walking around in a fog. And I'm still not out of it. I don't know when I will be.

I should go do my work before The Closer comes on.

But I probably won't. I'll probably end up staying up to finish it.

Because I can't help it anymore.

hey big spender

So I don't know if I mentioned the mom probably losing her job, thing, but we're supposed to be cutting back. My family's never been one for family meals, although we do sit down for the occasional spaghetti dinner. But that's always been about it. Other than that, our dad's bought individual meals for us all. Tomato soup for me, french bread pizza for my mom, so on and so on. Mis padres have never really been good at feeding us as a unit. And they need to, because if they're really going to stick to this no eating out rule, they're going to have to get more than two or three meals per person, and start making family meals.

That, and I have horrible spending habits myself. I feel guilty spending the money, but later on, I'm glad I did, because I get to read/watch a new movie/ have new clothes. Now, okay, that makes me sound shallow. But I only do the grab-and-buy thing at places like Goodwill or Dollar General. Mostly. And I need to stop that, too.

It's just...when things got really bad before, we didn't make life changes. I mean, we moved, but it was just next door. We just stayed in even more (ha!). But now...there's going to be some huge changes, mostly (and hopefully) for my mom.

Goodbye Lucky Charms, hello Marshmallow Flakes.

**Speaking of which, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a really really good movie. I suggest you check it out. Robert Downey Jr. Mmmm.

I don't think God likes cars

Today was interesting. Since my mom's probably losing her job, we're not allowed to eat out or anything anymore. So we were sitting there, and I personally was waiting to go to Kelsie's for the candle party, when Joey called and said he got into a wreck. Apparently, some woman tried to pull out in front of him, even though he had the right-of-way. Ridiculous. I didn't actually want to go to Kelsie's then, but it was insisted upon. So Jackie took me.

The party wasn't that bad. Some slightly fun games to play with a group of people who I half knew. Then afterwards, wasn't so bad, just hanging out with Kelsie and her sisters (and her mom, who I love). And Kelsie's grandmother looks a lot like my grandmother used to, before she got sick. It made me a little sad.

And then I came home, and I haven't done anything noteworthy. Except, I did watch the end of this week's Top Chef. I love that show. But nobody got kicked off. Lame. Did M. Night S. write this twist, because it was weak.

I really think Kelsie's the lasting point and mine and G's friendship. Me, I'm just happy being with who I'm with. Being with my friends. But it's like G just wants so much more. Not exactly a social climber, but she thinks that just because her life's not like a movie, with dozens of boyfriends and the losing-the-virginity-after-prom thing, that it should be. I don't think like that. If I go to prom, I'll probably go with a friend. And I'll be fine with that. But she won't. And that's where Kelsie comes in. She was content to just hang with us, so when G was off doing her little social climbing thing, I'd have someone to laugh with. But now I'm alone. At least, that's what it feels like the majority of the time. It's pretty lonely.

Of course, I'm one of those people that adamantly resist change, and I also think I see things that aren't there (or maybe, it's just that I see things that others don't). I don't know.

I do, know, however, that all those years that I've never had raspberries? I was sorely missing out.

Go Kelsie.

so today

Would not be a day that I would define as good. Not because of school, but because of the extenuating circumstances.

I was on my way to school, and I turned left across from the elementary school, and all the sudden, I noticed my car wasn't accelerating. So I pulled over right there, because it was a nice patch of grass and I wasn't going to get very far anyway, even though it was right under a No Parking sign. Gay.

So I sat there and I turned off the radio (which yes, still worked), and started trying to crank the car. It wouldn't go. I do this about 10 other times, kicking the gas pedal to get it to work and basically freaking out. The last time I did it, there was a kind of crunchy sound. So I stopped, and I got out, intending to walk to a place nearby and call Joey at home, since I have no cell phone. When I got out, though, a friend who's in my Zero Period with me saw me and stopped (which NOBODY else had done, thus far. I hate people sometimes). She let me use her cell phone to call Joey, who was pissed that I woke him up, but what else was I supposed to do? My parents wouldn't have been at work, and plus, he was closest, so he could actually do something about it.

But she took me to school, and I waited outside with the keys for Joey to get into the car, and that's the last I heard of it. When I passed by on the way home (I got a ride from another friend), it wasn't there, so I'm assuming Joey called somebody and got it towed, or it got towed for being in a No Parking zone. Which is gay. And I can't drive Le Buick yet.

When we get to school, I see black crows standing on a lamp post. If I were in a bad novel, this would probably be the point where I'd be like, "Something really really bad is going to happen to this chick." And later on, I hear Charlie's been in some accident and he's in a sling and whatnot, which is scary.

Ugh.

(and yes, I posted this exact same thing on Myspace. But this is a more reliable record).

Yesterday

was soo much fun.

We celebrated K's birthday pretty awesomely. We did the best thing we could think of.

We saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

"But Hillary, haven't you already seen that movie?"

Yes. Yes I have. But this time, I laughed at parts I didn't laugh at before. I got angrier. I got sadder. I felt victory and loss when I saw the people who died in the last books. But I laughed when I shouldn't have laughed some times, causing the person in front of me who was blinding me with her cell phone screen to turn around and look at ME (yeah, way to go there, blinding-cell-phone-lady) and Gracie to be like what the heck are you doing?
But seriously. "Give me the prophecy or you get to watch your friends die." *balancing scales gesture* Friends...prophecy...friends...prophecy. And I still love when HP gets all possessed like, because he's evil (and I laughed then, too, because it shows Voldy's head in a hoodie and jeans). When I get that movie, that's going to be the part I watch over and over again.

Anyway. Then we went back to the clubhouse and went swimming (since we had already gone before the movie and eaten lunch, then to Barnes and Noble to look at "bargain" books, then to the movie). The pool was warm, and once we got wrinkly, we got out and stayed out for probably an hour (because it was honestly cooler outside than in). Then we came back to my house, where we watched the Potter Puppet Pals theater stuff (which was hilarious, and I had been singing it all day).
And then me and dad got our butts kicked at Spades.

Ah. Not being around both friends all the time makes me forget how wonderful it is when we're all together, just talking.

Now that her birthday's over...
time to start planning mine. Muhuhahaha!

so i'm not one for poetry

I'm really not. If I'm reading poetry that rhymes, I miss the meaning, because I'm so caught up on the rhymes most of the time. When I'm listening to music, most of the lyrics don't really stand out. I sing them and sing them until I get them if they sound good, but other than that, if you ask me what a song is about, I generally can't even tell you.

But I love, love, love E.E. Cummings. Just the way he writes. The crazy stuff that I can't understand? Not so much. But the way he divides words is like putting a puzzle together, and makes you really pay attention to the words. And he loves (or loved) so deeply, you can tell.

i love you much(most beautiful darling_
more than anyone on eath and i
like you better than everything in the sky
--sunlight and singing welcome your coming
although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess
(except my life)the true time of year--
and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing (or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each
nearerness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love


I love the way he loves.
It's just...I don't say this enough, but I truly do love everyone (well, almost everyone) in my life. And when I read these poems, I realize what else I'm missing.

Here's another little poem to leave you with, because I'm just in the mood for goodness (and long posts, apparently):

i am a little church (no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
--i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a mircale of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope, and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and aguish)at peace with nature
--i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring, i life my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness).




Alright then. I think that's enough of a mind explosion for now.

School

It seems like so long since I last sat and wrote for this blog. Battles have been fought, wars have been waged, tests have been given.

Ah. This school year is shaping up to be pretty horrible. They administration has decided to implement their own, made up rules that all of my friends are rebelling against. They want boys to tuck their shirts into their pants. And the boys refuse. Or they find ways around it. Like putting their hands in their pants, too. Or wearing hoodies (which you wouldn't think admin would mind, because it's about two degrees inside even though it's 100 outside, but they got onto people today. Losers). It frustrates me on both sides. On the one hand, the only reason this rule is even being carried out is because it makes it seem like admin is doing something in response to the shooting last June. But it's really doing nothing, because if someone wants to bring weapons to school, they might not tuck it into their wastebands. Shocker, I know. And my friends make me angry, because by them rebelling, it's causing admin to take out time out of, I don't know, improving the school, to write up people breaking the made up rules.

And I think it's all arbitrary, and it shouldn't even be a rule. We should just get metal detectors and get it over with. And there are the people that think admin did this just to mess with us, but I know that that can't be true. He did it to look good. Although, his rules this week have seemed a little...oppressive? You must stay to the right when walking down the hallways, get in the least crowded lunch line, enter through this way, exit through that way, no crossing this crosshall, only five minutes between classes (with no warning bells), no hugging people for five minutes (which I don't think they really mean...I think they mean something entirely opposite than hugging, they just don't want to say it).

My classes are okay so far, except for trig. The teacher is an evil spawn who has hairy arms and doesn't wear shoes in class. She'll say stuff super fast, then ask if we got it (and she only listens to the one guy in front, who doesn't really get it, who's just agreeing with her to get her to shut up, so the rest of us are completely lost). They don't believe me that last year's teacher was actually better than this teacher, because even though W sucked, she at least gave concrete examples that we could take home and reference, even if they were sometimes wrong. They were better than nothing, which is what we get now.

I can't understand two of my teachers. But I like most of them. And next week I start writer's workshop, so that should be fun. Yesterday was Kelsie's birthday, and her mom called me and Gracie over with a bunch of family to give her a surprise party. It was pretty fun. Kelsie's cousins chased us (mainly James, aka Voldemort) around. It was really cool, and I didn't want to leave, because I missed Kelsie. I hate that she's going to a new school. But I'm also jealous because it's a hella better school.

So that's been my week. It's taken me this long because I've had homework and have been going to bed at 9 every night. Ugh.

Pleasant beings.

Yoot

So I finished my project a few hours ago. Then I got my stuff together for tomorrow and watched The Day After Tomorrow with Chance and Dad. I love that movie. Seriously? The cold? The best enemy ever. They should've gotten the MTV movie award for that.

But yeah, it's been nothing but work work work. Last night, I was stressing sooo incredibly bad. I had to take a sleeping pill at 2 in the morning just so I could get to sleep, because my mind was so wired..."I have to do this, I can do that, What if I don't do this?" Just, agh! I have relatively few concerns about tomorrow other than how I'm going to park with a car that's not registered, but I'll figure that one out. We did go to the pool earlier. It was fun until Chance started being a silly head. Ew.

And I was supposed to go shopping with the family today for school supplies and whatnot, but I had to stay home and finish my project (which was a good choice, since I started when they left and got finished a little while after they got home). They brought back Partner's Pizza, and it was all good.

I'm almost glad I waited this long to do my work. I haven't even been able to stress about just going to school. I've been hung up on preparing for it.

And now, thanks to all the intense writing I've done these past few days, the callous on my right hand ring finger is hella big and it hurts. I'm going to have to sleep with a band-aid on, I think.


Well, wish me luck. Have fun with...whatever you're doing tomorrow.

Whew

Monday: Helped Standiford move her stuff outta the school. Had pizza, talked to Ms. Mitchell (who told me about the OTHER novel that I have to read for Creative Writing). Went to Standi's house, her pool, came home with her old coffee maker. Nice.

Tuesday: Whitewater. My dad busted his knee and I had my period, so I wasn't really grooving it and we went home early. Chance stayed with Bee, though, so that was cool.

Wednesday: Student Council Meeting. Decorated the display cases and discussed more than t-shirts. Came home and watched Judging Amy.

Thursday (Today): Went to Open House. As per discussion on Wed., had to wear white shirt and black pants. Why? Because SC trolled the school the whole time, asking people if they needed help finding stuff and answering weird questions. My feet have blisters, I trolled that school so hard. But, during that time, I got my schedule and met most of my teachers. AP English teacher didn't seem surprised that I hadn't done my work. But Spanish III teacher decided to talk to me in Spanish. Who'da thunk, right? Gracie's schedule was totally messed up. So many conflicts! I feel sorry for her. And they didn't put down that I had Creative Writing, so I talked to Ms. Mitchell about that and she said she'd sort it out. That's actually the only thing I'm looking forward to.

I. Am. So. Tired.

And I still have to hang out with my mom, because it's her birthday and all.

Woot.