I've been listening to kind of sad songs again. I go on these kicks where I just listen to really solemn songs for like weeks at a time. My two favorites of the moment are "L'homme Armé" from The Armed Man soundtrack and "The Way Down" by The White Tie Affair. I've also been really into newer stuff in history, like the 1991 oil spill and the 9/11 attacks. It's tough, it's depressing, but I still find it fascinating. Gosh why do I have to be such a history buff? There's like no jobs out there that make good money that require a background in history. Unless you want to be a museum curator. Which I actually would love. I think that would be so cool. You'd get to learn oodles, and you'd get to do cool stuff like putting mummies through x-ray machines and stuff. Gosh I love archeology and things like that.
I've decided that I'm going to give the Star Trek movie a try. I was initially very much against it because I thought Hollywood would ruin it, but I hear that even die-hard fans are okay with it. So maybe it'll be ok. Plus, the guy who plays Captain Kirk is pretty hot. Yum. :)
I have an interview for LINK crew today. They had a lot of applicants, so I'm desperately hoping that I'll get in. I want to be a leader so bad, probably worse than a lot of other kids. We'll see.
I also have training next week at Cowtown Candy. Meanwhile I'm still looking around for another job. I think if they open the Walgreens soon I'll apply there. :)
Gosh. Last night I was crying. And then he called me. And all I could think about was how lucky I am.
I always go to sleep pretending/thinking of his arms around me. I can't wait until the night when we can fall asleep together and wake up in the morning with our arms around one another. We've sort of done it before, but only for a few hours. It was heaven.
I'm writing again. I don't mean blogs and stuff, I mean essays and fiction. It feels sooo good to be writing. I hate writers block with a passion. It's really depressing.
One day I will beg my mother to let me into school during the summer, and we will take turns riding my scooter up and down the hallways and we'll laugh ourselves sick. I love my mom, generally speaking.
75% of me is really really sad that Ben is graduating soon. The other 25% is thinking this separation will be a good thing. He needs to cut the apron strings and branch out, and I need the freedom to breathe and not be pulled down by just one best friend. I've felt just a tiny bit suffocated lately.
The Maverick sells frozen yogurt. For like $2 for a good-sized bowl. This is a miracle.
Stupid lactose tolerant people.
L'homme, l'homme, l'homme armé,
L'homme armé,
L'homme armé doibt on doubter, doibt un doubter.
On a fait partout crier,
Que chascun se viengne armer
D'un haubregon de fer.

The man, the man, the armed man,
The armed man
The armed man should be feared, should be feared.
Everywhere it has been proclaimed
That each man shall arm himself
With a coat of iron mail.

<3

My Identity Crisis

Yesterday I realized something. My best friend likes who he's becoming. And for the hundredth time in my life I asked myself, "Do I like me?"

In all honesty, sometimes I exasperate myself. I often feel like I need to grow up, and then somebody will come to me for advice and I'll feel more adult than ever. 

I don't like how fast my emotions change sometimes. One moment I'll be smiling, and the next I'll be bawling like the world is ending. 

Yesterday at Young Life, Mikey gave a testimonial, which made pretty much everyone tear up. But I felt stupid because I really started crying toward the end. Mikey said, "No matter what stuff you're going through right now, God loves you." And I knew in my heart that I didn't fully believe it. I want to. But with all the crap that's been in my life in the past few months, it's a little hard to believe that I'm not totally abandoned. Because that's how I feel. I feel like an orphan. I don't have parents, I have two people who feed me and nag me. That's it. Parents talk to you. Parents consistently show their love. And I know that if I were to say that in front of people, many would be shocked. "But your mom does love you!" 

How would you know? You don't see our relationship as it is. You see it the way you want it to be. But isn't that just life?

I've had two or three mysterious bruises in the past week. I don't understand where they're coming from. I don't bruise easily, so you'd think I would remember where I got hurt. 

I love popping my joints. It feels so good.

15 minutes. That's how long I have until I leave this accursed school to perform with some of my best friends. I hope all goes well. 

I'm pretty sure Cap is perpetually irritated with me now. Sad face. I totally adore him.

I want to work at Cowtown Candy so badly. I'm going in for an interview sometime in the next week or so. Yay Gigi! I really want a full-time job there this summer. That would make Gigi very happy. Otherwise Gigi will have to work at Walgreens or something ridiculous and meaningless like that. 

I love driving. Seriously. L-O-V-E it. 

I like singing too. I like singing while I drive.

I am super-excited for prom. I've been looking for ideas for what to do with Sara's hair. She'll look gorgeous no matter what, of course. 

My patootie is in pain. 

I kind of want Lemon Heads. Which I haven't had in like a year. Or more. 

I'm broke. Super broke. I only have like 20 bucks left in my checking account. Oh well. That'll change at the end of the week. ^-^ I'm still über careful with my money, generally speaking. But yearbooks are $60 this year!! That's ridiculous!! I'm thinking of asking my mom to go halfsies with me. Then I'd only pay $30, and it'd be our yearbook, but people would sign it to me. Hmm.

Seven minutes. 

My butt hurts so bad. Owwwww.

I'm such a history nerd. Ugh. Sometimes I roll my eyes at myself. 

I want to run away. It's time for something to happen in the life of Gigi. Prom is coming, but that's not good enough. Gigi needs to get out of her normal environment. Gigi needs to get lost and make new friends and be responsible for herself. Gigi is good at traveling. 

Ah, I take it back. Prom will be awesome. 

Four minutes.

I'm listening to a happy song and all I want to do is cry. I keep trying to cry. But nothing is working. I need to cry.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. I thought I was okay, finally. Thought I was basically cured. But hey, what's it to you? Your perfect (or not) little girl is just a polite robot who occasionally acts out and sometimes smiles. Either way, it's just a malfunction. Kick the machine and it'll start working again. Right?

Sometimes I still get the temptation to drive into the other lane...just to see what would happen. But I don't want anybody else to get hurt.
Hey, I'm not suicidal.
Just experimental.

I collect experiences. I guess that's why I'm a slightly strange person.
I put my little glowing experiences in clear glass jars with the lids shut tight, and I save them all on a shelf. Sometimes I take them down and just look at them. A few are ugly. A few are beautiful. All are fascinating.

Blood is cool. I've never been a fan of slasher movies. Natural blood, calm, clean blood...now that's beautiful.

Funny how I make such binding promises.

Dresses are my new favorite thing.

Sometimes I hate the telephone.

I need somebody to hold my hand. I need a beating heart to listen to at night. I need kisses on the back of my neck and whispers in my ear.
Technically I have these...they're just not easily accessible.


Bummer.

Just a moment ago I read this: http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5hY9EJOvoVv2Mwr_gn_bKdoVG5MGQD976CVL81
The article (from the Associated Press, pretty much the best news source on the planet) says that a little war has broken out between Catholic bishops and Notre Dame University. Notre Dame invited President Barack Obama to speak at its commencement ceremony this May, as is the custom for new presidents. However, many Catholics are shocked at the thought of someone so vehemently pro-abortion speaking on a Catholic campus.
Um.
Excuse me?
President Obama is pro-abortion and he supports embyronic stem cell research. But if I remember correctly, those topics don't generally appear in graduation speeches. Usually commencement speeches are focused on the future and hard work and hope. Obama is good at hope. It's his word.
I really don't understand two main things about this "issue." First, that it has become such a juvenile argument. As a Catholic myself, I can understand the anger and resentment that fill pro-life hearts around the world at the thought of a pro-abortion leader. But as a near-adult, a rational thinker and a politically-inclined teen, I can't see why they must attack Obama's ideas on this level. A more appropriate course of action surely lies elsewhere.
Secondly, I don't see why it is being blown into such huge proportions. I actually discovered it via Catholic e-newsletter. The newsletter was a link that led to dozens of other links which led to countless stories about the conflict between Catholic bishops and Notre Dame administrators. Why must we make take this particular opportunity to demote abortion? There are plenty of others.

My Sick Mildness

It's a bad day for me. I feel sick, through and through.
I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. This isn't unusual for me, (maybe I'm hypoglycemic?) but today I just felt...sick.
I feel sick inside too. Like there's something rotting in me. It's not a good feeling. (Well duh.) I feel like I'm in pain. I should be used to not feeling "good enough" but I'm not. Never quick enough, smart enough, thin enough, beautiful enough.
Never enough.
"Mild depression." That's what they call it. It's kind of like saying "mildly poisoned" or "mildly drowned." Mild. Like salsa.
Am I still not over it?



I guess not.

Happily Ever Afters

Not simple love, not complex love.
Love in its purest form, coupled with passion.
I never knew passion was a separate entity from love.
I want him.
I crave him, stronger than any drug or cup of coffee.
There’s a hunger in my heart, in the pit of my belly.
And I wonder if he feels this too, or if I just love him too much.
I hope it’s the former.
There have been moments
When we clung to each other
Like the only two survivors
In the entire world.
Survivors of what?
The throes of teenage heartache, heartbreak, depression and love?
Broken homes, changing views, hot-as-hell opinions?
Maybe we’re just survivors of each other,
For each other.
Fairytale love.
That’s what I call it.
Not real fairytale love,
Where The Prince and The Princess meet at a ball,
Fall madly in love,
And live Happily Ever After.
No, this is the Real Fairytale,
In which the prince and princess meet
In the dark basement of a church,
Shyly admit their feelings on the Internet,
And begin dating two weeks after the princess
Was dumped by a minor duke.

I wonder if anybody reads these things.....

My computer deleted a blog I'd been working on for two days. FML.

Geometry is easy and hard at the same time. Like a male whore. Heh heh.

My blog should be labeled "Caution, this program may not be suitable for children. Parental guidance is advised."

It's cool to have a car of my own. It's strange and nice to have such independence. I was standing in the dark kitchen last night, drinking a glass of water, when I suddenly felt a keen awareness of my own independence, my own responsibility. "A lot of kids I know would be taking this way harder than I am," I thought. I wondered if other teens would throw fits, or be less organized. I'm sure other teens communicate with their parents about plans and locations far less than I do. For example, today I handed my mom a note with my after-school schedule for the next week or so. I figure this way she can plan dinners more easily, and she won't have to worry about where I'll be or when I'll be home.

I discovered three Beta Bucks in my room. This is a sign from God, indicating that Ben and I need to make a morning coffee run. :)

Sara and Nick and I are all very excited about State Speech. It's fun to see Nick so involved, how much he really loves Speech and how he cares for the younger kids. He's become surprisingly responsible in the past year, stepping into his role as a leader as easily as some people pull up their socks. I like how he and I are becoming better friends. I'm going to make him watch Juno on the way to State. :) He's a good kid, really.
Speaking of good kids....Ben and I are talking and hanging out more too, which totally makes me smile. I felt so proud of him, that he offered to help us move and didn't back out even when he found out I wouldn't be there. He's grown up.

Shopping with my dad was pretty neat. We went to 2 thrift stores, which were ok but not big hits. Then we went to the store my dad's friend Sharie owns, a vintage store. My dad explained as we were walking in that he had brought Sharie so much stuff that he had a crapload of store credit racked up, so I could buy whatever I wanted. The first thing I noticed in the store was Sharie's employee, Rory. Rory is blond. Very blond. And slightly tan. And dresses in suit jackets from the 1960s.
He looked like Barbie's boyfriend (Ken) circa 1965.
He was nice though. So was the other employee, Patricia. She brought me all sorts of vintage dresses and tops to try on, and I found some really beautiful things. I felt happy...I thought, "This is what it must feel like to be rich."

Sunday afternoon I packed up a bunch of clothes, stuffed animals, toiletries, etc and moved a bunch of things over to Mom's. We had fun, dancing around and watching M*A*S*H while we ate hot dogs. It felt good, to bond like that.

Everything in the Equus is going fine, though I'm a bit hurried. Deadlines fly up at me like so many flies from...well.....yeah.

I have practically zero time. I shouldn't even be writing a blog, that's how little time I have. But I have to write. That's what I do. It is who I am: a writer.

I need chocolate covered pretzels.