My Floating Participle

When you say "almost deployed" I hold my breath briefly but release it in a gush when I recognize the meaning of the word "almost."
December is a happy month, or it's supposed to be. My birthday. End of semester. Christmas. It would be so hard to endure happy times without you by my side to enjoy them.
And then I realize...you talk like you're certain you'll be deployed eventually. Which means there will be hard days without you to lean on and happy occasions you won't be there to share.
Good thing my momma taught me to be an independent woman.
She just never taught me how hard I could fall in love.

I've been thinking about shoes and weddings and pink lately. Don't know why. Wedding season on the brain mixed with inherent girlyness could be the culprit.

End old job: Monday, June 7.
Begin new job: Thursday, June 10.
Car shopping Tues/Wed. Very little to no breathing room.

I want to show you the way lightning bugs look in a Chicago backyard on a warm July evening.
I want you to smell the forest at the edge of the pseudo-sea.
I wonder if you'd like dancing in the rain as much as I did.

Tired to the point of zombieland.

One. Two. Three. Four.
Four people who seem to actually care.
It's like we turned our tassels and suddenly I was borderline friendless.

Introversion is often looked down upon by the more extroverted of American society. We are shy. We are thinkers. We take things in, soaking things up like a sponge, the better to attempt to make sense of this world and the people in it.

I just want to read and write and color all day. Let me have my childhood back. I won't waste it this time. Promise.

In the box of jewelry she left us, there was a tiny silver ring with a pearl set in it. Looking at it, I wondered what inspired her to buy something so graceful. The rest of the queen's riches were dazzling, but that ring, tucked away now in my own jewelry box, is more intriguing than any.

The parents are branching out. I always thought I'd be the one dating now, not my parents.
We're dating, I guess. It feels more like...being best friends and a ton more.

My legs feel as if they're not attached to me anymore, and I'm just floating. Maybe my head will brush the ceiling. Or maybe I'll just go to bed.

Kids These Days

Okay, society, I've had it. I kept my mouth shut when you glorified cod oil, I went along with the game when you elected George W. Bush president, I even kept quiet when you decided making men look like wussies in commercials is okay. But today is the final straw.

When will you let kids be kids?

Exhibit A: The trashy swimsuit. While working out, I noticed a girl at the pool. She couldn't have been more than eight. Her skinny little friend was wearing a cute halter one-piece. But she (a little on the childhood chubby side, just baby fat) was wearing a cut-out. Yup. Fabric over the important parts, that's all. Since when did seven-year-olds become sex symbols? I've seen toddlers in mini skirts, for Pete's sake! I feel like telling these dumb moms to cover up their little girls before some creeper decides their little girl's Hannah Montana bikini means they're "asking for it."

Exhibit B: The blog. I ran across the blog of a twelve year old today. A twelve year old. This girl can't even spell "megabyte" yet, and she has a blog? Kids, in my day these were called diaries and we didn't let the universe know we had a crush on Derek or Josh or whoever. This kind of cry for attention is what leads to cocaine habits and teen pregnancy.

Seriously, when did kids go from drawing on the sidewalk to drawing on the iPad? When did the Nintendo DS replace the Harry Potter Book? Kids these days....

Good morning, Interwebs. Been a while, ain't it?
Truth be told, I sort of forgot I even had a blog. I'm sorry. Tears, wailing, gnashing of teeth. Are we friends again now?
Last you knew, I was the end of my junior year and dating a sophomore. Today I am nearing the end of my senior year and dating a 20 year old. Psh. Changes much?
Lee and I had issues, big time. The break-up was messy and ugly. Since then I've grown...really, we both have. It's been a tough year for both of us.
MISSION: GIGI'S SENIOR YEAR. STATUS: SUCCESS
Not to put too fine a point on it, say, I'm the only bee in your bonnet!
In other words, good year for me. Rough. But good.

It took me...oh, about five months to decide to go to a local community college where my dad works, which was my original plan. But then Michigan State University said, "Hey, you're not too dumb...we might give you a full-ride." So I wrote an essay and gathered letters of recommendation and MSU said, "Nah, never mind, you're not as cool as we thought. You can't join our club."
Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Warning: the following is on the list titled "Things My Mother Will Never Know"
In December I met somebody. A friend invited me to a party in another town and said I was supposed to come along to keep her "friend's" friend company. She intended to sleep with him, but made a few mistakes, and he and I ended up talking a lot. And then kissing. And two months later, on Valentine's Day, Cody asked me to be his girlfriend.
Today, we've been together for nearly three months. I took him to my senior prom last weekend and we had a blast. He'll be working in my town soon, which I'm looking forward to. Also, we're going to the same college in autumn, which was a surprise, since we were doing this college plan separately. We love each other, but we're not the sort of couple to follow each other to college just to stay together.

In other news, my brother (hopefully) flies out for Italy day after tomorrow. With all the ash from the stupid Icelandic volcano, his flight may be grounded.

Also, Lee got in a skiing accident 3 or 4 weeks ago. He's home now, and he'll make a full recovery, but it was pretty scary there for a while. Now he's healing and going back to his dickish self and reminding me why I stopped going out with him in the first place.

Anything else? Hmm. Graduation in two and a half weeks. Put my emotions in a blender and press "pulp."

Newest poem:

I can’t seem to write about you.
Every poem is wrong, all wrong.
I write about the way you drive and
the way you make love. Not good enough.

Delete.

I write about your embrace. Still
not good enough. I string together
sentences about your laughter
and the way you can’t dance.
No, no. Still all wrong.

Delete.

I listen to every song that’s ever
reminded me of your kiss, your eyes,
your smile. I am not uninspired,
I just get distracted by memories,

half-ghostly visions of you
in front of me, beside me, curled
around me.

You are the best writer’s block
I’ve ever had.
Save.

I have Mrs. W for a sub. Which is...and experience. Ben says he loves her. I'm not totally sure but I think Matt hates her. And me? Well, I haven't decided yet. She's got this weird nasal voice...but she isn't afraid to sass whoever walks through the door. She's got chutzpah.

L'homme Armé is epic.
And I am bored. There's nothing for me to do, which comes from people being lazy and being given the jump page, which is nearly always the last one done. At least they gave me an easy one.

Gosh I just wanna go do something worthwhile. Like get my bike from my dad's and ride it around town. I'm looking forward to having self-propelled mobility. Definitely.

I'm poor. I'm hungry a lot. And I've gained weight.
Life kinda sucks.
Then why am I so happy? Is it the flying leaps I take instead of just walking up to Lee and giving him hugs? Is it listening to my favorite songs over and over? Is it just...life? Maybe I'm just grateful for the sunshine of spring.

I need to get out more.

Blueberry bagels with cream cheese rock my world.

I have this endless feeling like I'm just waiting. And I don't know what for. I guess that's what they mean when they say "waiting for the other shoe to drop." I don't know what's going on.

I want to LEARN. I am so tired of sitting around doing nothing. I should find online lessons. A month or so ago I found a link to a free thing on psychology. I should look that up. Good Lord...make Mrs. W shut up.

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.