Thursday, January 31, 2013

Poor Hillary

Lately I have been feeling so bad because of something I'm afraid I can't change.

Hillary.

She is one of my good friends. Okay, so she and I don't talk together much, but we did last year and we hung out on fieldtrips and such when I had no one. She's so happy and cheerful and carefree, and she's sporty, talented, and funny.

I know that's going to change. All of that, long time or no.


Because Hillary, nice girl as she is, has been hanging out with Di. Once I figured out who my old best friend really was, I stopped associating with Di, who knew perfectly well what I felt about her. I didn't sever ties meanly. She just refuses to change. She was lying and dramaticizing and criticizing me and being rude. I knew the things she was saying weren't true, because she loves to make you feel low just so she can be queen.

Anyway, Hillary and Di. I used to be happy that Di had at least somebody to talk to, but it's been getting worse.

I live in a very LDS culture. This means that there is hardly any swearing, especially among my friends. Which meant I kind of froze up when Hillary, usually so innocent, swore in History. And today she repeatedly swore along with Di, while laughing

I'm generally OK with high schoolers around me for swearing. It's their choice, and as long as it's not at me or anybody else I guess it's just something that is a fact of life. But Hillary swearing is a fact of Life Going Wrong.

Georgie's been noticing this too. We both had bad starts in terms of Di, and now we're worried Hillary is going to go through the same thing. Soon that innocent girl will be crying and Di will have used somebody else.

I just don't know what to do to stop it. Di is sure having a good time. She hasn't changed much, but even looking at the way Hillary wears heavy makeup now tells me that she has. 

Homemade Stuffs

I love projects SO much. It feels amazing to create things for other people, especially the feeling you get even thinking about what they'll do when they see what you've given them. 

I'm not talking about, say, a knife through the ... elbow? Just to make things clear.


My birthday presents of late have been homemade. If not, my presents have always had a homemade factor to them. I'm one of the lucky people who are "gifted" enough to gift back, which means I always homemake my cards or make decorations and things like that. Lately I've expanded--I made a mobile star for Danica on her birthday, because she'd given me a mobile, and I constantly make things. I love crafts and art and things like that, so I love putting artisticness into a box and saying happy birthday. 

Or just "Happy Day." Who needs reasons?

Broccoflower

Who knew? I kind of had a freak-out last night because I found out about a vegetable I'd never heard of before.


BROCCOFLOWER!!!!

It's a cross between broccoli and cauliflower. Can you believe it? It's crazy. It was on my dinner table last night and it tasted like ... broccoli and cauliflower. And even though I know it's not true, I kept saying funny things like 

"WHOA!!!!!!! Did cauliflower and broccoli breed or something?!"

That's just something lighthearted I just thought of. I needed that.

YUM.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Losing

I just sat at the keyboard for a minute or two thinking I should post about somethingBut that was followed by There is nothing worth posting about. Then I kind of blanched because that's not supposed to be my train of thought, especially after all that business of becoming me again. 'Cause when I started this blog, I had a lot to write about because I'd just lost me and had to find me again. I lost a lot about me--the things that make me happy, the crush on the boy I've had since June, and some things that still aren't recovered yet.

I thought I was having a good time lately, with all that PE leadership and smiling even when I want to scream, and getting good grades and talking to people and giving gifts and hugging people and music and things like that, but I'm still in the same boat with the same troubles. 

The thing is, I'm not afraid of losing a game, or losing to someone, or being a loser. There are so many things I'd be okay with losing--sanity, mind, not that me and my airplaneness has much of either. I'm just so afraid of losing ME.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Possibly Not the Rain

Hobbs raised his eyebrow. "You want it to rain for a week?"

"Just to get rid of the snow," I said then ... but now, it's kind of not so bad to think about all this snow. After all, it's that lovely kind of freshness that's been coming down all day, so instead of sitting there at the month-old white {or not so white now} stuff on the ground thinking GO THE FREAK AWAY, you are eating it. Which, of course, is delicious.

Delicious being much better than annoyed, too. I'm getting tired of wearing boots all the time.

So today I went outside 'cause my mom wanted me to. This is another proof that basically anything your mom tells you to do is very good for you, no matter how much you think it will be, which usually isn't much. Moms can prove you wrong. Generally this is realized many years after they tell you to do something, but today it was proved almost instantly.

See, I have a friend named Ameli, and I haven't talked with her for a while, so she came out of her house {we live close by} and we started helping my little sister dig a little igloo. {Almost said cave there. What's wrong with my vocabulary?}

Then we went sledding. We haven't gone sledding since December, and I basically haven't had any friend time with Ameli this whole year. So we went sledding, and it was in the dark too, which was pretty dang SWEET!!!!

Then Ameli would say something like "I have an idea!" 

So I'd be on my stomach on one sled and Ameli would do the same on another and we'd put our arms around each other's backs to hold on, and my little sister laid across both of us, and then we pushed off and kind of flew. 

It's weird. You can fly on the ground. You can fly in your sleep. You can fly a plane. As long as it's you who gets you there, you can basically do anything you want.

I Am Blind After All

I've been so depressed lately it's not even funny. But I found out today that it basically is funny.

I was fooling everybody. I looked normal on the outside and maybe I didn't smile or move around as excitedly as before, nobody judges how obnoxious you are that day as long as you're obnoxious. Sometimes people don't see what's right in front of their eyes, like when their friends are depressed.

Sometimes people don't see what's right in front of their eyes, like when THEY are depressed.

That's what I learned today, when Orqua struck up a chat on Gmail with me. 

"hi," she said, with no capital or exclamation point and I didn't raise an eyebrow.

I asked her how she was after she asked me and she said okay and I told her to elaborate {fancy schmancy word, it's because of the spelling bee I got 3rd place in today [I always get 3rd place] so yeah}. She told me she was going through some problems and she said she had to ask me a question.

"Yup?" I said.

"Does everybody in our group think I'm weird and ... stupid?"

This is where I started to realize that depressed people are even blinder with me and my glasses and tendency to squint even with them 'cause I've had them for three years straight now.

I couldn't stress the point far enough. I don't need to refer back to the chat to know what I said.

ORQUA. You are an amazing friend. How could you even think we thought you were weird and stupid? You're the least of those in all of us. We love you because you love us no matter how weird and stupid we are, and you're our solid rock in this world of chaos that swallows people up. YOU ARE AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL AND SMART AND TALENTED AND CREATIVE AND SO, SO SWEET. Stop thinking like that. They love you, I love you, we love you. Now all we need is for you to realize there's no reason why you shouldn't love you.

"Thanks," she said. "It's just like sometimes I feel like I'm the outsider."

More screaming sessions. Orqua, you belong more than all of us. 

"You only sit on the outside," I said to her, "if you choose to." 

And goodness knows, girl, we'd follow you there.

Monday, January 28, 2013

This Blue Shirt of Mine

So I have a shirt.

It's new. 

The first time I wore it was on a Friday. Two weeks ago, when I was feeling MISERABLE. I'd spent the previous night up with my mom talking and crying about how I didn't want to go on. 

But I've always found meaning in clothing. I really liked that blue shirt. So I was going to live one more day to wear it. And I'm living on, and I think maybe this shirt started it.

I'm wearing it again today. It's one of the few shirts that, every time I wear it, at least five people tell me they like it. Okay, maybe not five, but it feels like that many and I smile and say I like it too, because it's so perfect for me.

It's simple, but not without design. The sleeves just brush past my elbows, my favorite length {I always end up scrunching up long sleeves}. It's perfect for every activity because the sleeves won't get messy but they're warm. And the color is as turquise, I guess, but it's just blue to me. This is the color blue should be, a little brighter and greener and full of life, like the ocean full of my favorite creatures.

Who knew? I see a lot in clothing. Like the pink butterfly shirt I cried in and the white shirt with the blue flowers that Seattle noticed was new, and the blue-and-white striped shirt that matches Liberty's jacket. 

And this blue shirt, that somehow signifies new beginnings, because the world was fire but then came me and my rain.

Hehehe

Who says you need a reason to be happy? 

My science fair project brought people together today. I think it put me back together. It's a kind of bravery to walk over to someone and sit next to them with notebook and pen in hand and ask them if you can test them. Even if they are your friend. It's nice to bridge the distance, because there are those little doubts screaming in everyone's head because we're all afraid of this word:
NO.
So today I was a bridge person and even if I didn't have as much fun being "on everybody's team" as Orqua puts it in PE ... I had fun. I had patience, and that in itself was enough to make me happy. I didn't have as much fun running. In fact, I kinda died. But I ran the whole way and I lived for that I-might-puke-guh-it'd-be-embarrassing-if-I-did feeling that I got afterwards, because the one thing you ever regret about running is slowing down.

And at lunch, one of my guy friends was sitting alone by the stairs like he did a lot lately. I laughed with my friends and was generally loud and obnoxious because that's me and an inside joke, but then I took my notebook out and bridged the distance. And Georgie took my cue and we sat with that boy trying to get him to think of a word that started with w by being little again:

"WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWWWWWWwwwwWWWWwwwwWWWWWWWWWWw ..."

{You try it.}

Then, today when I was testing Literally, my friends from dance came in early. Usually this would be kind of awkward {sitting there on a bench almost-next-to-a-boy-who-they-don't-know-but-you-know-very-well-and-you're-on-the-handle-bar-thing-and-he's-kind-of-sort-of-on-the-bench-close-to-you. But at least there were therapist jokes}. But I tested them all for my science fair project. We laughed and laughed and talked about Napoleon Dynamite and how we're going to get all the girls in dance to come over and watch it and have a party.

Sounds like a party. And I felt like really really really true outside-of-dance friends with everyone in class today. 

"You girls look so natural," said my dance teacher. "It's like with my high schoolers, they just stand there thinking what? But you ... just do it."

Hehe. Just do it.

Laugh!

Sunday, January 27, 2013

So Much for Favorites

I heard one of my favorite songs, Carry On by fun., on the radio for the first time. I wasn't aware that it was a radio song. I love that song because I've heard it outside of the radio--I sought it out, which makes it one of my favorites because it didn't get there itself ... I chose it, I guess, but yesterday when I heard it on the radio in the car I said "WHOA! THIS IS LIKE MY FAVORITE SONG! I LOVE THIS SONG! I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M HEARING IT ON THE RADIO!" or something along those lines ... I didn't mean it?!

And it was raining today. Raining. It's what I've been hoping for all month now, just some lovely rain to dance in, but I didn't even go outside. I didn't linger by the window for long, I don't know why. I should've smiled, but it never reached my face because it wasn't deep inside me in the first place. Rain is my favorite weather and I should've laughed at the dream come true, but instead I walked away to a windowless room of the house.

I was making a gift for someone everybody thinks I like that I don't anymore, not because of them but because of me. All of the above is because of me. What's going on? Why can't I smile anymore? Why can't I smile when I hear my favorite song on the radio? Why can't I dance in the rain like the brave innocent person I used to be? Why aren't I the person I used to be? Why am I sitting here with a novel open and nothing comes out? Why am I only writing sad songs? Why am I doing nothing because I feel nothing because everything I want amounts to nothing because it's unattainable? 

I'm scared 'cause if I'm letting my favorite things wash away in the rain, maybe I'm letting me, too.

That's Strange

That's strange. I'm not hungry. Usually I'm super hungry at least once every week, or if I wait too long in between meals. Now I'm not even remotely  hungry before a meal. I skipped lunch today after a normal breakfast. Now, three hours after lunch, I'm not hungry at all. Wait no, what's that feeling in the pit of my stomach? Is it hunger? I don't know anymore.

That's strange. I want to run. I hate running. Or hated, I hate how past tense and my life is either painful or obnoxiously confusing. I love to run now. I love the feeling of wanting to stop and wanting to go on forever at the same time. But I can't run, because there's ice on the ground and my tennis shoes are in my locker at school.

That's strange. I want to go to PE, so I can get to my locker and my shoes and run.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Something Happy For Reals

Deep breath.

Your past is like your favorite book--there are some parts you forget, and some parts you remember with a little prompting. There are some parts you don't know yet because you just can't skip ahead. There are some parts that are so breathtaking you're going through the pages fast, and there's some parts you take slow. Then there's some parts you can't help but think back to, even though they definitely weren't the best. Somehow you manage to skip all of the really good parts, because when there's negative and positive, you see the blue first.


So here I am with my memory book, and I'm going to turn back to the parts that make me smile.
  • When we were in Algebra 1 and having a party, Pen tried to sing Life is a Highway, but when he got to the verses {that I realize now I have memorized} he had to hand me and Vanessa the microphone.
  • When Seattle knew my birthday and that I was younger than him, he said "Good, 'cause otherwise ..." and let it trail off 'cause nobody was listening {well, at least he didn't think anybody was} and it was mysterious and happy at the same time.
  • The look on Danica's face when we yelled "Surprise!" at the party I helped plan.
  • All those times I was home alone and recorded me singing one of the songs I wrote, or banged it out on the piano as loud as I could.
  • When Georgie replied to that first letter I sent, and a few letters down the road she called me her best friend, and I realized she was.
  • New Year's Eve this year, when Georgie and I stayed up waaaaaayyyyy past midnight talking.
  • When I was at the amusement park nearby and got stuck on the zipper upside-down with my sister.
  • Fortune tapping me on the shoulder.
  • Those green windows when I was little that were warm. I called them "hot tubs."
  • Lying in the snow staring at the sky and the beautifulness of the flakes landing on me.
  • When I walked outside one morning and my eyes were drawn to the stars.
  • When it rained, just for me.
  • When Literally showed up at school. I'd predicted it but I'd missed him, but then he appeared out of nowhere behind me and calling my name and saying he was looking for me.
  • When I finished writing my novel.
  • When Pen replied.
  • When Seattle sat next to me on the bus.
And all of those other times that someone wouldn't stop until they had an answer to what was wrong, because they knew without asking I wasn't okay. And every time they succeeded--not necessarily getting the truth out of me ...

but a smile, at least.

Something Happy

Since I've made a point of being as depressed as possible lately, I've decided to try and pull you and me back up. I've been sitting here for about twenty minutes already with the thought to write a song {my last one was a couple weeks ago, even though I usually come up with them like snap} but the only subjects that came up were
  • missing people
  • missing Pen
  • missing the happy version of me
  • missing
  • missing
  • missing
  • still missing
So, in an attempt to be smart, I've realized that if I tried to write a happy song right now it'd end up being very fake, and I'd never be able to sing it.

'Cause how do I put this? I love making people happy, making them laugh, making a fool of myself just so someone else can smile, because you can feel others' more than your own. But looking in the mirror and seeing someone who plays Silhouette on the piano {by Owl City, I love that song} and can't even sing along ... well, it's not exactly what I need to keep people happy. 

It's weekends like these where I don't feel so good--'cause Literally's birthday is soon and even though I have a present for him, somehow I don't feel like we're connected anymore. It's also Liberty's birthday soon. I jokingly promised him a while back that I'd get him a satchel of liberty. Georgie and I were making it, but somehow it stopped and she's not taking sewing anymore, but that's the only place I can make it happen. I feel like I'm letting down Liberty, and it was one of the things I was really looking forward to. But now it's not going to happen and I just feel horrible. 

I hate how lately, it seems all of my projects don't work and I have to give up because it's not in my control whether or not it would happen. 'Cause if I chose my world, I'd have a satchel of liberty in no time. I'd have a better gift for Literally too, and I'd be flying because I wouldn't get those looks. I hate when people stare at me like I've done something wrong, because I try so hard to do good.

All right, somehow this turned into a sad post too. Seriously! 

Gray Finds Me AGAIN

Smiling.

That's what I was doing in my dream. I wake up, stretching and tired and sleepy but happy. I can't remember my dream ... but my mind is roving and it lands on Pen and I remember that I dreamed about him, and in my dream I was going to see him again and he gave me a hug and a smile and wasn't forgotten or changed and this time I was the one who walked away, knowing someone'd be there if I turned around. Well, joy. 

I hate dreams like that.

WELL, I thought that I wasn't going to spill all of my sadness and secrets on this blog, but I suppose I have already so I might as well continue, or I'll feel bottled up and things I bottle up are not things I want to keep holding onto. {-_- Yeah Pen.}

So I'm trying to be lighthearted, but it's another snappy day and even sitting here alone listening to music isn't cheering me up.

I guess this is narcissism, but it's easy to write about me. I'm dramatic. I make things dramatic. It is not as fun as it looks.

Today there was fog everywhere, which was nice because it seems the inversion's over, and then it started raining.

Usually I love rain and I am out there with or without an umbrella and dancing and singing but today I didn't even want to get out of the car, 'cause I wanted to lean my head against the window and sleep and close my eyes from this world that tosses all these feelings my way like nostalgia for someone who doesn't feel it for me.

Actually, though, me and Pen were just friends. But sometimes it's hard to let someone go, especially when you treasured their laugh and that certain kind of sunshine that you haven't felt in more than eighteen months ... and memory gets warped, but Georgie calls mine a stalker memory because I remember so much.

She laughs when she says stalker memory, and it's true, so I don't.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Nostalgia in a Yellow Shirt

I may say I'm in something that begins with L-O, but so far every like in my life have been a lie because my L-O always ends in S-S.

Two of the boys I've liked have moved away. Granted, one of them was one of the guys you meet in kindergarten when you learn the word boyfriend and turn into a weirdo like all kindergarteners. Everyone is forgiven for being too young, but that was still one of the first tastes of sadness I recall.

One of them turned into a bumhead. Is still a bumhead. Wait, no, wasn't he a bumhead all along? Yeah. I don't like to think about him 'cause it's like Georgie says: "... never gonna get that year back." It was one of my lost years, where I had to figure everything out and change to fit the climate, and I managed to start in the worst place possible--best "friends" with Di and "in love" with some bumhead who I try not to look at anymore.

Last year's boy is still too painful to remember, and late at night I don't try and flashback, 'cause I was younger then and it was such a reaction, just seeing one thing and freezing up and crying in public a lot. Thankfully Danica, Orqua, and Georgie were there to save me, and I've moved on from that. I'm even friends with the guy again.

But in sixth grade, there was this one dude, and I'm can't even hear his name without doing one of those freeze-up numbers. 'Cause I could never solve it. In kindergarten, I eventually realized that I was being a stupid kindergartener and I had problems. With the other guy who moved, I realized I was acting stupid again, and same with the bumhead. With last year, I realized that it wasn't as bad as I'd thought. But with sixth grade ... I haven't been able to solve it.

Because even though I've finally quit e-mailing the guy, I still think about him and I still wonder who he is now and who I am and wonder when I try and picture him {his face and his laugh are the only things I can conjure ... well, or the way he runs with his head slightly down and his orange collared shirt}. And there was a phone call in August when I heard his voice. And even if I was inviting him to Vanessa's surprise birthday party because I knew she'd want him to be there, it was still crazy. 

And today there was an assembly and I found myself searching the freshman section and finding Pad, his brother. Wearing a yellow shirt, which stood out and my eyes kept being drawn to him and wondering what it was like to see Pen every day. 

He's not the same Pen. He's changed, definitely, and so have I, but there's one connection I keep trying to hold onto when I know the other end has been let go. So I sat in the bleachers staring at Pen's brother Pad and seeing him laugh and cheer and in his brother, I saw Pen. And then Pad's friends surrounding him would point something out and he would look and I thought for the many times this happened that he was looking at me.

He smiled when he looked. I don't know who or what he was looking at, but I wonder what Pen's face will look like if he ever sees me again.

I Forgot Someone

I spent History today zoning out and writing a letter to Danica.

It's normal for people in our friend group to write letters to each other {girls, that is}. So it's not strange for me to have penned something to one of my best ever friends during class today. The strange thing is that it's been so long since I've written her anything.

So I wrote it, and then I needed something to wrap it with, so I got out another piece of paper. On the outside, I wrote some song lyrics and drew some clouds and "Special delivery: to Danica" and on the inside, I started to draw.

It was going to be a princess picture, since I drew Disney princesses last year, she loved them, so I drew them for her in letters so she could color them. I took the same style I used for my versions of Disney characters and drew Danica with it. She was going to be a princess but I ended up giving her a sweatshirt like she'd been wearing lately, and jeans. Then I drew Nash beside her, and slowly I began filling it in.

Nash, Orqua, Tangerine, Vanessa, Kahler, August, and Georgie. All the girls in my lunch group, and the girls who are my really good friends, and Danica's too. They surrounded her and they were smiling and waving and at the bottom I wrote "Hi, DI!" {Danica's initials} and then I folded up the wrapper, slipped a letter in it, and put it in my backpack. I didn't see Danica until Science, where I stopped and gave it to her. 

A little ways into class I suppose she must've opened it, because she appeared next to my desk. I looked up, a little annoyed and raised-eyebrow-y, because today is a lonely day.

She was holding a piece of paper--the wrapper to her letter.

She unfolded it and slid it across the table to me, and I don't know if it was fake or not, but her eyes were watering and her smile was wavering, and Danica said,

"You forgot somebody."

First I thought I'd forgotten someone in our lunch group. Oh no! I thought I'd had all the girls, but maybe I'd missed someone. I felt really bad. That wasn't supposed to happen, and that's why the picture had taken me a little while to draw, 'cause I had to remember everyone. Yeah, today wasn't a great day and I was wondering why, because I was still doing as much for others as I could, like I'd done yesterday with the team. Shouldn't I be smiling? But as Danica walked away and I got out my pen to finish the drawing, I realized who I'd forgotten, and it all made sense.  

Me.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

The Vanessa in Me

Me and Vanessa go back a long way. There are so many stories about us and how we clash together and fight and cry and give each other the silent treatment ... but there are also stories of how we've been the ones holding onto each other when someone feels like letting go, and the people supporting one another. I've always known that this is because we're so alike. 

We're both leaders. We're both supporters. We're both selfish. We both brag. We both have our stories. We're both careful. We're both smart. And twice now, we've liked the same guys. {That, of course, is the source of most of the problems. I could write you a hundred books on last year. But I won't. Not today anyway.}

But we're different too, and I'm starting to grow farther apart from the person I thought we were, because I'm seeing Vanessa as a whole new person. Okay, I always knew things about her, but see ... we're similar, in different ways.

Today, we played wallyball in PE. I was so proud of myself in PE today, because I've grown to really love that class when last year I basically dreaded it. I dreaded changing into my PE clothes that make me seem not-that-skinny and I hated push-ups and running and all the dumb sports we did. Last year, I would've hated wallyball. It's a version of volleyball where you can bounce the ball of the wall, which isn't too different to grasp. Hitting balls around with my forearms gets them bright red and my wrists and fingers are having issues, but I didn't really complain today. Like my dance teacher says, It hurts so good.

So this morning I ran all four laps around the two gyms. I ran all of them. Usually I'd have to walk half. But today I set my pace with Orqua, and we ran side-by-side and kept up a conversation too. And at the last stretch, I sprinted and raised my arms and said "Woo!" 

I was a team player today. When one of the girls was struggling to finish after everybody else was having their drink, I called her name and she smiled.

So we went to play wallyball, and split into teams of three and four. Mots of the girls in my lunch group {who are all fabulous at sports, unlike me} were already grouping together, and so I turned to Georgie and said "Wanna be on my team?"

She nodded gratefully, and then I turned to Sparrow, who was on my team last time and was sitting on the bench, lonely. I asked her the same question I asked Georgie and got the same reaction.

Sparrow actually wasn't lonely on the bench. Next to her was Di, who I also have a long history with. Di is not one of my favorite people. She is one of my least favorite people, and one of the few people in this world I seriously, seriously hate. She used to be my best friend, and let's just say she's too far gone to recover. The funny thing is how none of it's my fault, but today I was thinking that maybe I could save what I could.

"Hey Di," I said, saying her name to her for the first time in what might've been quite a while, actually, "Want to be on my team?"

And she looked at me and gave me a sort of smirk but she said yes because she was lonely with Sparrow too and nobody wants her on their team but, apparently, me.

Somehow, though, I liked my team, and I was smiling as I headed into the racquetball court to start our first game. We lost it 15-0. The next one we lost again, 15-1. Then we lost one last time 15-5. But by that time I'd stopped caring. 

This is what I was doing instead.

I was standing in whatever spot I was doing, and being team leader. I learned, instead of waiting for someone else to hit the ball, to assume they weren't and leap there. I laughed when I accidentally spiked the ball, which is my natural reaction when it comes towards me. I laughed when the other team scored, and clapped for them. I cheered my teammates on, even Di, when it was their turn to serve. I gave them tips when they looked unsure and told them they could do it. My thumb was always up and I clapped and our scores got higher and higher. Teammates were screaming other teammates names and taking my cue to laugh and I was smiling so hard it felt the smile was going to fall off of my face. 

Just another way of spreading it, though.

By the time we were over, I was sweating. I had played my best. We'd lost, but I could tell that my teammates and everybody that I'd played had had fun. And that was my goal, so I was happy.

Then I saw Vanessa. I knew that she hadn't been included because Orqua and August
 and another girl had formed a threesome that basically dominated, but our coach had to have a team of three and they were it. I walked next to Vanessa, helping her clean up, and asked her who was on her team. 

She was on a team of good players, but she didn't seem to like it. "The thing about it is," she said, "is that I hate being with people who aren't, you know, like no offense or anything, as good as me. I don't like when I'm the only one who does anything. It's just so frustrating."

We walked down the hallways too, and instead of going early to lunch I stayed behind to wait for her. She didn't thank me, but Georgie {who had stayed behind with Vanessa} did. And I got stories about how Vanessa didn't want to go to Science because she didn't like that class because she didn't like the people in it. 

And this was one of those times that the bragger in me came out and told her about how I sit in the back corner on a table with a shy girl who hardly ever talks and everybody thinks is a little annoying, and a guy who's one of those people who hardly does anything, and a new girl who isn't part of our lunch group. They aren't any of the people that Vanessa want in her class, or probably ever will. They're people that Vanessa will be nice to, of course, but not anyone she wants to be with. And with Vanessa, she'll be unhappy because she didn't get chosen for the team of three.

This is where I bit my lip because there are some good things nobody understands the importance of. I didn't go up against Vanessa and her team during wallyball, but I wanted to. Last time, I was the one nobody asked if I wanted to be on a team with. I was with the people who nobody wanted to be on a team with. This time, I chose them to be on my team because I wanted them to feel important. I treated them like they were important, and they were all smiling. Even Di, who learned how to serve and didn't complain once when she didn't make it. Instead, she laughed.

Di isn't my best friend. Georgie is, but she isn't too great of a wallyball player. I'm not either. We went up against good teams, and we played good games because they felt good. I wanted to show Vanessa that we're still basically mental twins, but you can learn to change a little bit of who you are to be better. I love sports this year. I'm a good sport this year. I learned to have fun and I'm looking forward to another set of wallyball games on Monday. Vanessa probably isn't. But I gave her advice, and you can't force people to take it.

Smile.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Crowded

Storytelling is a huge part of conversations.

"I was so glad I got lost in a crowd," says Seattle. I open a door for him and some of my other friends, so I'm not looking at him as I say "You're glad you got lost in a crowd?"

He was talking about something sort of unimportant, but I realize it has a deeper meaning, now that I'm through with the day. I finished writing the cast of characters in my life on this blog, and Danica's one of my best friends, yet I haven't talked to her at all today.

Never mind. I said "Hi," to her in the computer lab this morning, but that doesn't really count as she didn't say anything back, because my shoulder-to-shoulder pretend-it's-a-hug was too quick and I was gone, walking fast.

Still, though. Last year when I had all my problems about finding my place among friends, somehow I had time to find out that she was one of my best ones. We write locker letters {AKA a better term for letters-to-someone-who-you-see-every-day} and we pass a notebook back and forth ... I even helped Nash plan her surprise birthday party a two months ago, where Nash, Georgie, & Tangorine helped me come up with the tune for a song I wrote and sing it as a birthday gift to Danica. 

Maybe it's because we changed semesters, 'cause we used to have three classes together and now one of them's gone, and I hardly ever see her in those classes anyway. It just feels like such a distance, and it isn't just Danica.

Let me tell you something about my lunch group. We're basically a group of about ten or so friends, boys and girls. Last year it developed itself. We're not all good friends within each other, but we know each other's names and we're sort of mutual acquaintances. I know everybody in my lunch group better than that though, especially after my encounters with them this year. However ... I'm losing connections as I build them. It seems you can only hold onto so many things at a time before you have to drop some, and it's a while before you find the time to pick it up again.


Lately I find myself in the hallways with Georgie, who I'm never going to lose connections to because even though we only share two classes now, we always make the most of every time we see each other, because being best friends, you know when someone's missing you. Not everybody feels that, though, and I can tell that I'm growing farther apart from people like Danica and Nash every time I spend my lunch with August, Vanessa, Orqua, or Tangorine.

It's crazy. This year wasn't as bad as last year when I didn't know any of these people well at all, but it's still such a crowd. Sometimes you feel envious of the little groups of four or five people in our grade who are all best friends and somehow manage to stick together and be, you know, perfect.

But there was a time at the library when I was about seven. I lost hold of my mom and sisters and they were gone, and I was lost in a crowd and it was one of the worst feelings I'd ever had.

The trouble is, those were strangers, at the library. 

How come I worry over a crowd of friends?

Walking Fast

I love walking fast, and I do.

Walking fast says so many things. It can say you're in a hurry, to go or to leave. It can say you're walking away from something you really want to leave behind, or a place you really want to get. It can say you're just walking to stop thinking from other things, or walking the least possible so you don't have to think about it.

I walk fast for all these reasons sometimes. Some here, some there, all of them eventually.

Today was one of those walk fast days. 

Walking fast to the bus stop, breathing into my coat because of the bad air quality. Walking fast because I'm excited for another day of school that I started off on the right side of the bed {like yesterday. Not like last week. That was the wrong side}. 

Walking fast to get on the bus because it's warm in there and cold outside even through my coat.

Walking fast down the hallway because Fortune and his friends are talking about computer games and I don't want them to see me almost laughing and rolling my eyes {even though they do anyway}.

Walking fast to the library to help Tangerine meet up with Danica in the computer lab so they can print off some homework for History.

Walking fast after TA'ing {where I did absolutely nothing} to History, because I'm wondering if I can catch Fortune before he gets to computer programming, so that I can hand him the pomegranate seeds I saved last night just for him, 'cause I know he likes them. {But I don't pass him.}

Walking fast to French because I pass Seattle and I'm walking away the thought of what he saw--girl in coat, frown of concentrated thoughts, hands in pockets, fast feet, hair flying. Oh, but there was a slow down when I saw Fortune, but then again I was too late in getting out the pomegranate seeds, which are still in my backpack as I type this.

Walking fast to lunch, because I stop thinking when I walk fast and it's nice to go up the stairs and face my friends that way. I hate entering into a group. It's simpler and easier to start with people coming to me rather than me coming to them.

I walk fast to catch up to Vanessa and Fortune, who lead the way to the practice rooms. They're occupied, says August. Georgie joins us and we all stand in a circle talking and laughing and I realize that I really like this, and that's why I slow down and I'm almost the last one to leave for the final class period of the day.

Walking fast when the final class period lets out, 'cause I have to turn in my homework and everyone's already out the door.

Walking fast to catch up to August, and having a short conversation before she slows down and I speed up past Seattle, walking and not thinking much. {Haha. I do admit I was wondering if the time the door opened behind me was him.}

Fortune ends up beside me as the bus comes up, and he delays looking for a seat and ends up across from me. He, me, and August have a conversation the bus ride through, and it's nice talking to friends.

Walking fast home, 'cause I'm thinking I miss school already and my friends and Seattle and maybe, if I walk really fast, I'll get to tomorrow soon.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Birthdays

Somehow we end up talking about birthdays, and Seattle is talking to me and he asks me when mine is. I'm proud that I know his and he doesn't know mine and he's asking me, because sometimes people are proud of the weirdest things and secrets that give us value.

"A few days after yours," I say, but then I think about it, because today's been such a great day. I'm reading Fever by Lauren DeStefano, and the main character's father defines a carnival as:

"Celebrations for when there was nothing to celebrate."

I feel like celebrating today, because Fortune was with me all lunch long and my friends Orqua and Tangoerine, and, of course, Georgie, were with me too, in the hallways with Seattle and talking and laughing about shallow things that were made beautiful because of the people surrounding me.

"A few days after yours," I told Seattle, the boy I like, and he doesn't know that I'm sort of lying, because even though my birthday is after his, it might be today too. It might have been yesterday. A birthday is like Lauren DeStefano's definition of carnival, because it's a celebration for when there's not much to celebrate, and today I feel like celebrating, because I've been spending the last week feeling DEAD




AND
NOW
I'M 
ALIVE
AGAIN


Winner

Today, I'm a winner.

Somehow, surfacing from "feeling blue" always leaves me feeling super happy. After all, just a little push isn't going to get you back from the deep holes you dig yourself into. So for no particular reason today, I started off happy. 

It was one of those quiet days on the bus, when nobody really talks no matter how much you try, but I managed to snag a conversation with Fortune, one of my friends who's usually the one to stare down my conversation starters. I love having good conversations with my friends, 'cause it's when it's me, and that one lasted all the way down the hallway and past.

And when we got past the hallway and stood by the lockers talking, I was immediately ambushed by Danica, and we talked about the stars on her sweatshirt. Sometimes I don't feel part of the conversations by the lockers in the mornings, but today I was. We talked about how Pawson broke his collarbone when he went skiing, and how Saye took a panoramic picture of the whole thing. We laughed about it, and then some of our friends showed up. I hugged Georgie and she and some of our other girl friends ambushed me by interrogating me on why I wasn't at the party.

They weren't mad. They'd missed me. 

It's a good feeling, but now I wish I'd gone.

And then during PE, the strangest winning thing happened. We played wallyball. This is a version of volleyball, but it doesn't make it any more fun. However, I managed to have fun even when Vanessa {who gets even more bossy when it comes to sports} didn't want us on her team. Of course, she chose the people who were actually good instead of Georgie and me, but that was somehow fine with me. Vanessa was freaking out and bossing people around and taking away our points because "It touched the net! It touched the net!" but my team didn't care. Half of us couldn't even set, but we had fun encouraging each other and attempting it. 

There was much laughter on our side. We cheered truly for our team and the other team, and boy did they look unhappy about that. But it's not about the sport, it's about being a good sport. So even though I was frustrated at the beginning, I smiled and somehow the three games that we didn't win were enjoyable anyway.

Being positive can cure everything. I talked to Liberty in the hallway because I got rid of my fear of being loud. I raced him to English, arrived puffy-breathed, and wasn't even nervous during a spelling bee I hadn't studied for. I was positive while I lost my disclosure for PE that was due today, and I was positive during math, which made me finish faster than anybody else when we did whiteboard exercises. Speaking of, I have my candy rewards from that in my coat pocket, and I should probably get to them before my sisters.

But still, I love that so much. It's nice that I even managed to gather the nerve to test Fortune and Liberty. I tested the guy I like, and it was a fun bus ride with everyone laughing. I love starting things like that.

And last week when I couldn't see any of the good stuff ... well, what is there, really? What's so good about all that?

It's playing my little pony with your little sister for half an hour, and comforting and whistling to your baby brother for the next. It's running down the hallway not because you're trying to beat Liberty, but because it'd be nice to reach the speed of light. It's finishing three laps of two gyms a lap running the whole time. It's when you lose, but you don't, because you smile, so you win.

Monday, January 21, 2013

I Wish It Was Raining

I love rain. That's one of the weird things about me. I love dancing in it, standing in it, walking in it, singing in it, and watching movies where people sing in it*.

*Though that's not as good as the real thing.

I also love rainstorms at night when you put your ear to the wall and listen to it falling, which is the most beautiful music to fall asleep to. If only I could fall asleep with my ear to the wall, my life would be complete.

The sad thing is, it hasn't rained at all this year. It's a snowy winter and really cold too, which means there's two feet of snow and more than just a jacket in the morning, especially since I get up at six. I love the snow because everyone stares at me for using my umbrella with it, but it's different from rain in the way that you get SO dang tired of it. 

Or at least I do. I'm a rain dancer.

I want rain. I want it to wash the snow away so it'll be warmer and I can play soccer again and dance with it and my umbrella, and take off the umbrella and get a free shower. You can't do that with snow. Snow gives you an excuse to have dandruff, but other than that it's not as fun to get all over yourself. Plus you have to shake off your umbrella 'cause it's dumb to have snow on it. There's a reason umbrella is parapluie in French--it works with pleut, the rain.

I could just rant on rain right now. It's my favorite weather, most definitely. I only discovered this around last year, but what's not to love about it? It washes out the air and smells so good even afterward, and I used to LOVE looking for snails. 

... Albeit the only reason I looked for snails was to salt them. But you can't forgive everything about 7-year-olds.

Even the name of it. R-A-I-N. It's so perfect. I kind of want to name a kid that, but that's like WAY WAY WAY into the future, by the time I'll probably make some rash mistake and name them Billy.

Wait nevermind, my flute's named Billy. But this isn't your concern. We're talking about rain.

Of which is amazing and magical and just so uplifting ... it washes things right off of your shoulders. Once I was feeling down and there were like ten droplets of rain falling in the morning, and that cheered me right up. Sprinkler or not, I loved it. Rain ... ugh ... I can't explain. But still, it's definitely better than snow after a ton of it.

So now I'm just listening to Fearless and wishing it would rain, because it's not the same in the softness of snow.

Sparkles

I realize that the start of this blog caught me in a sad time. 

Well, not really a sad time. More of a So-Many-Reasons-To-Be-Happy-That-Don't-Work-On-Me-Right-Now-Try-Again-Later kind of sad.

I guess it's good to know I'm back out of that! Or at least trying to. It's a little crazy when you can't see the sun is all, but the storm's gone away and now I feel fresh! Not really though. There's still that wacko inversion {look it up. I didn't know those existed until last week} going on, which means all the pollution hangs in the air. And me being a green girl ... yuck. It's gross. But anyway, let me continue on!

Sparkles! Sparkles are amazing. Need I say more? That's the only kind of nail polish I believe in. I think I said that somewhere before, but it's true. I love sparkles. And not only because Taylor Swift likes sparkles. But because they're sparkles. Besides, it's like confetti, only slightly less noticeable. They're also something that you just can't draw, which makes me in awe of them. 

{Not that they're the only thing I can't draw. I can't draw pineapples, and I have to copy trucks. And apparently all my airplanes look like sharks.}

Anyway, I was just out playing in the snow, which was kind of stupid of me since the purple pajama pants I still have on are way too short even for my boots, and that we still have two feet of snow left over from, like, totally last year.

Mhmm. It was fine at the beginning, with all that sledding and hot chocolate and it's so cute that my cheeks are pink. But then you have to wear boots for twelve days in a row and it hasn't snowed in a while but it hasn't rained either, and you're stuck with this crunchy stuff you don't want to sled in. 

Back to playing in the snow. It wasn't really playing, more of stomping around and trying to sink through the layers of ice, and sprinkling snow all over my driveway with my little sister. It's so fun sprinkling snow, even if you're wearing thin fleece gloves like I was. But still, I did designs and saw the sparkles and could've squealed, had my sore throat not prevented it.

That's what I'm trying to get at. Even if you have a sore throat, you can still have a good time. So I can't wait for tomorrow to see my friends again! 

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Best Friends in Blue

How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around?
I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown. ...

My best friend, Georgie, did everything together even before it was official. Last year somehow we ended up talking and walking after lunch almost every single day. I didn't realize how important she is to me until around this year. We've been hanging out much more, and there's such a structure of inside jokes around us that even in a crowd we're in our own separate world.

I love spending time with Georgie. She's so cheerful. I know she isn't sometimes, but I've never seen her that way and she the same, because with each other it's like we're lights in each other's worlds. We're not so carefree when we're apart, but she makes me see the good in the world.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night
I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry
I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams. ...


We even started off this year together with my first ever sleepover. It was a great event. We laughed and got really hyper off of peppermints, which we both love, and we stayed up all night to watch the ball drop in New York.

And I know that even if one day one of us brings the sadness into our time together, us best friends will be able to cope with it. We've been through quite a bit, actually, but it's always been as friends. I can't even imagine fighting with Georgie.

The thing I'm scared of, of course, isn't fighting. It's letting her down. And I'm afraid I've done so much of that lately that I'm not keeping up the friendship at all. I hate the days at school where I see her for five seconds and a quick hug in the morning and then only at lunch. I hate the thought that next year we'll be at different schools, and the last time that happened with one of my best friends ... ugh. I haven't seen her in around a year, or had any contact with her at all. One of the things I hate most is losing people.

One of the things I hate more than that is losing people who are still there. If that makes sense.

At lunch on Friday, Georgie and I ran around hiding from our friends. It was hilarious and we were just running together, laughing and wheezing by the lockers and not wanting to leave until the very last bell rang.

But there was a party for Blaund, and it was going to be the first boy's birthday party I'd ever been to. Of course, it wasn't a big deal. Boys and girls alike from the lunch group were customarily all going to be there, and I'd fought for my place with my parents nights before. I was excited because, since I didn't know what to get him, Georgie and I were both pitching in for a box of Krispy Kreme donuts, which Blaund had jokingly said he wanted. I was going to bring wrapping paper to the party. She'd by the donuts, and I contributed money. 

I chose not to go to the party.

It was a quick decision, no matter how long it lingered in my mind. Usually when I make decisions like this I try and persuade myself that what I chose is right {in this case, I was definitely not in the mood for it, like I wasn't in the mood for anything. I knew my friends would be there, but I already dreaded leaving the party. Somehow, I knew I just wasn't going and it wouldn't be good for me to}. But then I always end up regretting it.

Now, I don't regret not going to the party, where I'd have sat there trying to be happy but suffering from the internal symptoms of Happy? Not Today Please. 

What I do regret is letting Georgie down.

I hope Blaund enjoyed his donuts.

Society Secrets

Do you know what's one of the saddest things ever?

My journal is in code.

Do you know what's even sadder?

There's probably someone out there who could understand it.

I'm not saying it's sad that people understand me, but it's sad that people are so ... non-privacy these days. With all this media flying around, who's to say what's not said about you? Everyone has to be careful, and with that, nobody says what they want to because they're afraid of who will hear.

And when they do say what they want to, the wrong people do.

I wish there was a filter for life and the people who populate mine. I wish there was a net I could use to trap things that I've let loose ...

A way to stop the ripples, but that's where the water ends.