Particles of Truth...

So the other day i was lounging around, channel surfing when i happened upon a movie called Particles of Truth. For some reason i didn't turn the channel, probably because of the hot Gale Harold(Queer as Folk) whose magnetic face kept me hooked( i will spare you from posting a picture of my new husband, though i was very tempted), but nevertheless, i was very fortunate to happen upon the movie, whose main charatcer Lilly seems to parrallel my position.

The end of the year is here, and i am excited yet nervous at the same time. I've been noticing that i can't seem to finish anything. I have been home for about 2 weeks, and have not finished any books, stories, that i have started. This has become a recent trend of mine, as if i am afraid of finishing anything. The end of things seems scary to me because i don't believe in the "when one door closes another one opens" sayinh, the finish line does not seem promising, and for new years the ball that will drop from time square will only remind me of that doors will open if i allow them.

It seems as if i am afraid of failure. I mean I guess we are all. I have this extrodinary fear of being commonplace, of just living a normal existence, and making no impact. Of not being someone. All of this, the not finishing anything, the fear of failing, of being normal, stems from the self doubts that i have within myself. That some how my drive will not mirror what is needed to see my dreams come to light. Sure I'm capable of not letting my fears conquer me, but in the back of my mind, its as if that isn't enough.That somewhere in time the walls will come crashing down and the particles of truth will be found out, and i will be discovered, and what will be found is not something that i will like.

So watching the movie yesterday i was like, "Oh..that's where i am in life" in the self doubting ,can i do this mode. What "this" is i don't know. Maybe it's letting people get close, maybe it's trusting myself, maybe it's being someone that i can be proud of, that i can let other people be proud of. Trust me i don't think i'm the only one, but it seems ten fold sometimes. Of course in the movie, she meets someone (Gale Harold) more screwed up then she is, both hiding from the world, she with her coldness and particle of truths about her past , and him by his Germophobia which prevented people from getting to close to them, well except each other. Seeing that it is movie world after all, and all of their problems get solved in 48 hours. Then the two fall deeply madly in love, or some crap like that.

Of course i know life is not a movie, or a tv show where all the mysteries will be solved in an hour of so. The killer will be caught, the doctor will have solved the patients medical illness, and Joey will still be an unfunny show( i know low blow, low blow...someone had to say it). Minus the "all is better ending" the movie was good, because it examined the lies we tell ourselves to get us through life, are the lies that leave us damaged. That tend keep the distance between people, that prevent us from moving forward.

My Particles of Truth
-That i'm confidant
-Happy
-Have a great family
-Am over a certain boy( and no isn't art boy)
-Am over losing a best friend
-Believe that i will make it.
-That i am brave
-That i like spending time by myself.
-That i can take the hardships along with all the good.
-That i am ready to be someone.

These are the particles that seem to keep me stagnate. I mean we all have these particles we hold close, particles of our lives that keep us grounded in life. They are lies we tell ourselves to keep us going, to remind us of how much the past doesn't affect us, and that the future doesn't really frighten us. These seem to the worse kind of lies though, the lies we tell ourselves being more detremental then the lies we tell the world, because they keep us stagnate. They keep us standing still instead of helping us moveforward. They are our safe haven, our shields, our defense mechanism, that prevents us from falling apart. I know i hold them dear, sometimes i'm frightened of what i would do without them. And maybe thats what it's all about, it's about facing them head on. Because one day they will smack us in the face, we will be reminded that we use them to hide from ourselves first of all, but it keeps us guarded from letting life in. From letting it all in, because of the fear that we just can't deal.

For now i will keep my particles of truth. They are my shields and armor that keep me going, but thats not saying that i don't look forward to the day when i have to face them. When the particles become whole and threaten to consume me, unless i let them go. Of course i wont have a cute boy named Gale Harold, guiding me along the way( it would be nice to think so though), i'll have to face those by myself(not saying if a cute boy named Gale Harold wanted to help me, then of course i would totally accept his help, and in 48 hours we would fall in love. I can dream can't I).

Until then, i will enjoy the ending days of 2005 watching Law and Order: SVU marathon. The thing is addictive. Damn you Benson and Stabler. Damn you all to Hell.

I was suppose to go to a New Year Eve's party with Marie and her friends. But the girl hosting the party went psycho after a not so fun ski trip with Marie and other people( i'll fill you in later), and now my plans are null and void. I hate when people go crazy during the holidays, wait till after, at least then it won't affect the only plans i had. So my day will be spent munching on a huge cheese pizza, drinking a little sparkly sparkly, eating cheesecake, and watching a marathon of Poltergist, the show(nothing like the movie). What can i say.

Happy "early" New Years. Kiss 2005 goodbye. I know i will.

-Beckett-

Arrested Development

Well it didn't snow...

Christmas was good though. i woke up to the pleasant sight of rain. I like the rain though so it wasn't that bad. I opened my presents that i myself wrapped (because my mother just rolls the paper over it, and tapes, and tapes, and then won't stop tapping. So what she does is gives me the box, make me promise i won't look, and then watches me during the wrapping). I have perfected the art of fake enthusiam, watch out world. After presents(which did not consist of an ipod, sigh), my brother dragged around the house, we had food, drank excessively to much sparkly, and passed out watching a marathon of the outer limits.

Just the way we like it.

I've been thinking about my future a lot lately. Something about the last week of this year has my buzzing with all the possibilities that lay before me.

Arrested Development.

Other than being an amazing good show(damn you fox), i seem to be in an Arrested Development. Being home these last couple of days, i'm seeing how much i don't like it. I mean sure i like spending time with my mom, and there are days when i just want to stay at home and lounge around. But i don't want to live the life of watching Oprah religously and acting like i should care about people on tv i will never met, i cannot spend every waking day in pajamas and deny the world thats out there.

I think it's because i worry so much about my mom and brother that leaves me arrested. that without me my mom would go completely crazy and be lonely, and well...i don't think Morg would mind. i don't know how to explain it. So here's an example.

Example 1: Browsing at some clothes outlet store
[Mom picks up something she would wear]Mom: This is too cute, do you like it?
Me: It's not really my style
Mom:[sighs] what is your style?
Me: Well not the older woman style, i'm 19...19.
Mom: This isn't old
Me: There are like grandmothers in here looking in the same section we are, this is a little bit older for me
Mom: Well this is my first time in here
Me: What made you think i would like it?
-Later in Pacific Sun-
[See a cute jacket] Me: I like this one
Mom: It's green
Me: i like the color green
Mom: I don't like it
And then she goes and picks up this horrendus jacket i would never wear, once again something she would wear.
Mom: this is so cute, it would look good on you.

-Out in the parking lot-
Mom: There was a lot of cute clothes in there
Me: That you would wear, i think i like a more edgy style, not so cookie cutter. I have to keep reminding you about blurring the lines between you and me.
Mom: i know, we have different taste
Me: i'm just saying if you had your way i would be a mini you
Mom: [dramatically stabbing imaginary knife in heart] That was tough
Me: It's the truth
Mom: i know

Example 2:-At the supermarket. After i ran into an old teacher-
Me: i saw my librarian in here
Mom: Oh thats nice.
Me: she was happy to hear i was going to the school in state, she never wanted me to go to Pitt or Philadelphia when i told her.
Mom: everyone was trying to tell you that, you just wouldn't listen
Me: listen i have two more years of this hell hole before med school.
Mom: Maybe you'll change your mind
Me: Hell no
Mom: we'll see

I want so much for myself that i busting out to consume it all. And some how i feel like she's holding me back from that, not out of any malicious intent, but just of fear of losing me, of letting me go. But some where along the lines i have to declare my independence, and gently cut this string that binds us, the string the holds me back from creating a life for myself.

So i guess thats kind of my first thing on my "starting over" list. To claim independence, to stop having her run my life. Because the direction she wants me to lead is not the course i want to go. I want to take chances, i want to make mistakes, i want to be apart of "it" instead inclosed in our own lonely bubble. I just see so potential in myself, and i feel like i'm supressing it in fear of hurting her, and wanting to tell her that it's kind of time for me to make that leap. You know, that first leap being the being the hardest one to take, but i'm so ready for it.

I just keep sitting here in this house, and watching them do nothing. I never noticed how much 'Nothing" bother me, until waking up to it everyday. I want to have a life for myself, that doesn't involve me trying to make them happy. I mean sure i want to make my mom proud and i want our relationship to stay close, but this isn't Garden State( i always refer back to this movie), i'm not Natalie Portman portraying at girl who is like "my home is always home to me" or some crap like that. I guess i just want to start my own life, i don't just want to be a figment in some else's. I don't want to be Mom's smart daughter, or Morg's brainy sister. I want to be Beckett, with her own friends, a job at school that i will probably hate, a car that may not always run, but a place i can return to that will relieve the pressures of the world and my own little niche, my own little life. I want them to be apart of what i have created for myself not vice versa. I guess thats not too much to ask for. Cause it's the only thing i want.

I want my life back.

I've been hiding from it for too long.

Andrew:You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew : You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

Shooting Rubberbands At the Stars

I guess it's still embarassing to admit that at 19 i still cannot go to sleep on Christmas Eve. Though i know the presents under the tree are things me and my mom wrapped for decorations, i still have that ansy feeling that keeps me up at night.

When i was younger, i would go to sleep real early, believing that the faster i fell asleep, the sooner morning would come, the sooner i would open my presents, and all would be right with the world.

Though the excitement of waking up real early to run downstairs and open the presents under the tree has pretty much died out, along with many other things, i still kind of feel sad about not being so enthused about the holidays. I think this time of the year is based on your belief of the holiday spirit. The belief that you will have a white christmas, that miracles are bound to happen, that you will share the fondest times with the people you love, and that it's a "Wonderful life".

I guess you have to carry the spirit with you, i'm starting to think that its not about getting sad because you realize things about the holiday and your life that can be a downer. But more that as you get older you either keep the spirit of the holidays alive, or let it go like a friend you just stopped talking too.

I guess because i am looking at the bed, wanting to go asleep so i can wake up and it will be christmas, still shows that the holiday spirit is still in me. That even though i have to remind my mother to decorate, and have to get Morg excited about the feast, if not the presents, we can look forward to...i'm still excited about christmas. Maybe i just still believe that i will wake up to a white christmas, that for one day we can be happy that we are togther, that miracles are bound to happen, and that it's a "Wonderful Life" after all.

So what do i want for Christmas:
Selfishly:
-Dead Like Me DVD
-Ipod
-a new camera
-and possibly clothes

Unselfishly
-Fresh coat of snow
-Morg to talk to our father on the phone
-For my mom to get a call from an old friend
-Smiling faces all day long(with no arguments)
-For Charlie Brown to have a really good christmas and get a new tree
-For Ralphie(a Christmas Story, the greatest christmas movie ever) to finally get that Red Ryder BB gun he's been asking for all christmas (you'll shoot your eye out kid)
-For Kevin to finally have christmas with his family, instead of being left to fend off crooks home all alone.
-And for Rudolph...you go kid.

But mainly i hope that everyone has a really good christmas. Smile, laugh, eat lots of food, and enjoy all of it.

For me i will lie in my bed, still suffering from the "christmas is tomorrow" insomnia. If all else fails, shooting rubberbands at the stars isn't so bad.

I have a Craving...

... that i just can't seem to shake. While attempting to go to sleep at 2 in the morning, i had this weird craving for White Castle burger. It was a literal attack of the munchies, and i went to sleep very frustrated.

When i was younger i hated White Castle. If anyone has ever been, it is just a plain white building, that to me smelt of onions, that sort of resembles a castle. The burgers are so small, you have to buy them in bulk just to get full. But something about those small nasty burgers, processed cheese and meat that you aren't quite sure of, has my stomach begging for it. Even the big bulky fries i could have a go at.

I had White Castle about 2 years ago. For some reason they sell them at the supermarket, in the little boxes, but yo can only catch them in stock on a good day. And when you get them home, they just aren't the same,i guess you have to go to White Castle for the full experience to enjoy those terribly small hamburgers.

So who wants to drive me to White Castle?

I'm a very pleasant companion in cars.

I could fall asleep in the passenger seat and wake up when we got there.

Usually, i will flip through the stations until i find the right song. We can even play "Guess that Song" and the winner gets lunch on me.

If you don't mind listening to some Metallica, John Mayer, Coldplay, and Feist along the way. My singing isn't that bad, and i don't even mind the small little adventures on the way. I'm one for road trips, as long as we reach our destination to those little small hamburgers that are tearing at my heart(or should i say...stomach).

Just think about it, let me know.

Damn i just thought about Nathan's hot dog. Do the still serve those fries with the little red pitch fork looking thing?

Why do i torture myself.

Mushaboom

I'm not use to talking on the phone for more than 30 minutes at a time.

I mean unless you are my mom, or my dad i can basically only stay on the phone for about 15 minutes before i'm lying on the bed wondering what song i'm about to download.

It's not that i can't hold a conversation, it's just that well i haven't had the phone ringing off the hook since i was in the 6th grade, and honestly am not use to having conversations at length with friends.

Kay called today. We have been text messaging each other since school ended, and it's just been stupid things like "i haven't called anyone a bastard since i woke up, you should be proud"(so i have a tendency of calling anything a bastard, nazi, and whore...My language is very pleasant. You should see me at a vending machine that isn't working..Its a sight), and her reminding me to be pleasant to the world.

I never realized how much i missed having a friend, until i had one actually calling me on the phone and asking me for advice on things. I think people forget that i am only 19 and seem to talk to me about things i have no idea about, but it was nice just trying to be helpful and i guess in the process feeling a little "grown up".

She talked about her impending separation with uber hott, but not so stable ex-husband. I talked about being addicting to the sims(which she too admited she was addicted too for a while, the game should be outlawed) and that i may need to join an help group. She talked about hott new boots she thinks i would love, i talked about converse. So we are on two different wavelengths, but we somehow find comfort in each other. And we went way past my "30 minute" mark.

I mentioned coffee dude, and she did the girly "OMG!!! now i totally have to make you over. We can go shopping, and get out hair done..." i think i tuned out for the last 5 minute of girly yelling. She also taught me "meet up etiquette":

1) Meet in while populated areas (i knew that one)

2) If and when i do talk to him about meeting up, make it real casual say something like "hey i'm going to be in the bookstore later on, if you want to get some coffee you can meet me up there later". That leaves the ball in my court, and makes it casual

3) seem interested. Sometimes i get that "geez i'm really bored face" (what can i say, i can't hide my feelings on my face). Ask questions, don't answer with "yes and no" , and don't "sell him the whole store" . Boys like mystery and telling them my biography in the short time coffee takes to drink is a big NO NO.

4) Have a go to person. She said that it's good to bring a friend along. She can sit somewhere else, wait for my signal if things are going bad, and can come to my rescue with "Hey , i didn't know you were here" and then drag me to safety.

She seemed more interested than i did, but it was nice, for someone to take such interest. I guess i'm not use to that.

I try to learn things from everyone i meet. And i see Kay as someone i can learn a lot from. I mean she has taken me under her wing. We got on the topic of her relationship with men, because of well psycho ex/present husband and a boy she dated( i have to stop calling men boys) while they were on a break. A boy who is late all the time, has no ambition, but is extremely charming and not so bad to look at. He recently failed the two classes he was taking this semester and has no idea what to do about next semester.

She said that all her life she has been involved with a man. She has never been single, and always attached. And that if she could have anything it would be to be single, and not be involved.

Now i know you are probably thinking "this proved my morbid pessimism towards relationships" but it didn't i was petrified that she was telling me her bad experiences with marriage. I mean i was on the other end of the line, mouth open as she is telling me how her 1st marriage when she was 18 was horrible and her 2nd marriage with current psycho husband was even harder. So i told her. I was like "see this is what scares me about marriage, everything you just said is like my biggest fear".

I really am a hopeless romantic, and it makes me sick. Absolutely sick that i have unrealistic aspirations of falling head over heels in love. That i am willing to be so vulnerable in a relationship... i mean for me it isn't roses and dazzling presents. It's about a person i let my guard down for, who i cry in front of, who wipes aways the tears but realizes that they need to flow. I don't want much, just someone i can be "small and needy ", who i can depend on, who will never let me down.

But talking to Kay, she made the light bulb go off in my head. I love those moments. It's as if everything has clicked. I guess i keep forgetting that marriage isn't just about how much you love someone. I assumed that marriage is just for love, and roses, and swee times with the man who steals your heart. I mean it is in away(though not so disgustingly chessy), but it's also about how you live a life with this person. Love can only carry you so far if you look beyond it being just about the unrealistic "romance novel" aspect of it. You have to be like "can i spend the rest of my life with this person, will he support me in my aspirations as i do his, and am i willing to spend the rest of my life, ups and downs, with a person who is willing to go through life with me."

I mean if you put it in that respect, than i totally understand it. I mean as i write this, it's clicking again. She said you want someone who arises the butterflies in your stomach, who ,for me anyway, doesn't mind gazing at the stars, dancing, and occasional roof top retreats to watch the city lights, but he also has to be someone you can spend of your life surviving life with. I mean life is fucking hard. But it's a lot easier with the person you love, who can be your retreat.

I wanted to ask her so much more, i wanted to spill some more of my anxieties, but i didn't. I guess it's just nice to know that i can, whenever they arise. I use to believe that my soulmate( I was in a soulmate phase for a little while. I use to read these books by L.J Smith when i was in the 7th grade. It was about soulmates who were like vampires and other weird stuff, so i was convinced he was out there, well minus the blood sucking part, designed just for me), was out there looking at up at the same sky thay i looked at, and thats why i never felt lonely. I figure how could i feel lonely, if he was gazing up at the same night sky i was. Of course i have moved on from that stage, but its nice to not be so afraid of those relationships i try so hard to degrade.

It's just fear. We all just want to be loved, we all want to be important to someone else. In fear that i wont ever feel that safe, i avoid getting close. I assume nothing good will come from it, because that's all I've know. I guess i'm still working on that.

Well i'm pretty tired. My bed is calling me and tempting me with soft pillows and a big bear named Charlie. It has one this battle this time but not next time.

Goodnight and have pleasant dreams.

Oh...My sim is pregnant. Gavin and Beckett( okay you can totally make the face, but i couldn't think if any other male name and my sim needed a husband...) are due to have a baby any day now. She is very lazy now, and keeps pissing on the floor while eating her husband out of house and home.

I don't know why this game is so addictive.

A king without A crown

Jewish Rapper...I never saw it coming. I mean its the biggest oxymoron ever...but I absolutely love it. His name is Matisyahu, and even though I am a rock chick at heart, he has blown me away with his reggae(yes reggae).

I found out about him, on Vh1 or something, and though at first I was like " a Jewish reggae singer" what is it like a gimmick or something. Hell no people, the man is amazing. And I am hooked.

I notice than when I want something really bad, I think about it until I get it. I will search everywhere until I have it, like I can't be complete without it. So today I dragged my mom all over the place, until I found his Cd.

Though I would like to say this entry was all about how amazing and moving he is. It's about what I saw at Best Buy that shocked the hell out of me.

Coming home. It's a weird thing. I don't even mean me being home on break. But I mean the process of going home at all. The whole concept of Garden State in my mind, is finding your place where you spent the majority of your time running from. It's complicated. Even when I go back to Westchester, I seem to want to touch everything I may have touched when I was a kid. I go to the place where I kissed that Jason boy, and the park where my brother thought he was Superman and jumped from a very high part, only to be hospitalized. I go back my schools most of all. I guess I think by surrounding myself with things from my past, that pat of my life will rub off on me.

Some people want to go back home to prove how much they have changed. I like going back because I see that it hasn't change, and I like that in a way it never will. That yellow house on Chatteron Ave, in White Plains will always be the place that I laid my head at when I was younger. The time I skated in the house leaving horrible marks on the floor, the place where my brother got stung by a bee, our bus stop. They will always remain the same, because they are apart of me, and I guess i'm happy with that stability.

But what I don't like about returning home, is seeing all that has changed. People are now older, memories seem to be foggier, and it doesn't really seem like your home anymore. I guess I'm not talking about Westchester as much as I am talking about returning to my house for Christmas break. When I was in highschool I made it a point to not like it. I told people right off the back " I don't want to be remember at this school, I just want to fade away so when I become successful in anything I do no one from my past will track me down saying they knew me." But even though I did tell people that, I manage to make some friends and connections along the way, I mean it's life, there is no way you can go through life without making connections.

So while I was at Best Buy searching for my new obsession, I noticed a girl with extremely bright converse shoes. I mean they were orange, and stood out. Now I'm not one to just pass converse shoes without staring to see who the owner is. But her back was turned to me, so I went and got my CD, forgetting about the shoes. When I got in line, with my new cherished Cd, my mom pointed out the orange shoes. Now maybe it is because I am familiar with this girl, but even from the back I still kind of had a feeling that I knew this girl. I mean she is tall, has pale skin, and short curly hair. But I didn't want to be like "hey I think I know you" while she was trying to buy something.

Then I heard her laugh and knew it was her. (Oh...So about a month ago I took a learning test to see what type of learner I am ,and I thought I was a reading learning, but I found out that I am actually an "listening" learner, which makes since cause I have a way with sounds. Which is probably why I concentrate on how people say things. I guess I also recognize voices before anything else. ). I was about to go up to her, real excited that I had seen somebody from highschool I had made a "connection" with.

But as I approached, she turned slightly exposing her full belly I'm guessing she was around 7 months pregnant. I stopped right in my tracks, and some how thought my eyes had deceived me. Could it be? I mean clearly it was but..Shocked wasn't even the word, it was more like...It was like when you realize your home isn't really your home anymore. That though things remain, they never will be the same.

Her name is Jessica. And we were the rebels of our journalism class. While we wrote articles on abortion and other topics, the rest wrote articles on clothes, our princiPAl, and our football team losing again. We had formed a weird creative friendship. She brought me to her art class, where we ate cereal with the amazingly hott art teacher, and I took her to work in the library with me. It was one of those friendship, that begin so fast you think may have meet each other in another lifetime. The things with those type of friendships are that they are magical when all the pieces of fate are aligned. I had joined journalism after dropping a grammar class my guidance counselor had suggested( he just didn't mention that most of the people in the were freshman, I was a junior in a honors English coure, I had no business being there. It was awkward, we played the grammar game with pinto beans and dealt with simple sentence structures. I was out of there quick) , she really didn't like journalism because they never put in her articles...We bonded soon after that.

She was...quirky. She liked art, and wore different colored converse, and even let me dye them blue for no reason. And I liked her because she didn't care about being her...she just was and made no excuses about it.

When the year ended, we didn't see much of each other, and when my last year of school began, she was just beginning her junior year. We just didn't see much of each other. We were still cool though, excited when we say each other in the hall, but that was all.

So upon seeing her in Best Buy, I was a little more than shocked to see her pregnant. I mean she is talented, and had so much potential and now she is going to be a mother. Like a mother mother. And I got sad. Because unless she has the incredible drive, which if I know anything about her she doesn't, like Kay to succeed and do something better with her life then she will just do nothing fantastic with her life, as I know she can do. She will just be "that person who stays in their hometown an never made anything out of themselves." I mean there is nothing with staying in your hometown, I would more than move back to my hometown, but I will have seen and explored, and let myself know what was out there. Not be trapped because I had no incentive to want to explore this huge world.

Maybe its just because I expect something more than just to settle for what has been given to me. I expect to travel, and experience, and live freely before starting a new home and family.

So thats the thing about coming home, the place is the same, the memories always linger, but some how you know the faces are a little different. I guess thats the sad thing about it, because even though you go home to remember all the good times, that realization that those times aren't "real" anymore, makes you lose a little something with each journey back.

Coffee Talk

Coffee?

This topic of discussion has brought to light situations that arise from the a small cup filled with brewed tasty beans. Recently with the game Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, the main characters girlfriend asks him in for coffee, only to well have sex with him. ( i played the game, and i was invited in for coffee, but all i heard was noise i didn't see anything) Even on Seinfeld, there was the whole scenerio of what it really meant when someone asked you upstairs for coffe. What does that mean? Who drinks coffee at night, unless you are planing to stay up late. Does that mean the person likes you well enough to invite you to an intimate chat while drinking a great cup of coffee.

Reason for inquiry into the true intentions of coffee arise from a little letter i recieved in my email yesterday. Of course the Facebook is a huge college thing, and i even have one(which is how Art boy contacted me). It was real late last night and i was going to see if Kay left me an email when i notice one from a name i do not recognize. Its from a boy name Drew who has found my profile pretty interesting. Drew writes:

"Hey!
I was just going through the Buddhist group and saw your profile... I'll have to admit, it's not often I find someone else interested in such similar tastes. If you wanted to sometime, maybe we could meet for coffee or something and chat it up once we all get back in swing with the coming semester. Let me know. Peace, Drew"

I stared at this message for like 5 minutes. What does it mean? I mean i didn't even know i was in the Buddhist group (i'm interested in Buddhism, but haven't really took the steps to becoming serious about it). Okay...i have no idea what to do. I realized at that moment, i have no clue in the boy department. I mean maybe he just wants to get coffee and talk and become merry old good friends. But i'm not that naive. I mean maybe he really does want coffee. The other part of me, thinks he may want to get to know me in that way that would lead to a relationship more then friends. I checked his facebook profile, and he a music major, is from Pittsburgh, and loves NYC.

I'm a little apprehensive about the whole thing. I mean throughout the whole day, i have been playing the scenerios of me getting coffee with this kid . I over analyze way to much, but i mean i could totally meet up with him, have a horrible time, regret that my first ever "date" would have went horrible. Maybe it's not even a date, i mean technically it's talking over coffee, but coffee is intimate. I mean when you drink coffee with someone it's usually just the two of you engaged in a fascinating conversation. Maybe my conversation will be horrible, my cursing will repulse him, and he will go around talking badly about the "date/hanging out" with a girl who couldn't hold a conversation to save her life.

But what i'm more afraid of, is me liking him. He seems like a decent guy, if anything we would probably make really good friends. Maybe i'm just thinking too much about it. I mean maybe he wrote to more girls saying "hey how you doing" and i am just too guilable to see past his devious intentions. Or maybe he really just wants to get to know me. And i shouldn't shun getting pursued.

I also thought about Art boy. I really like Art boy. A lot. And if anything i would rather him ask me out for coffee, but i can't wait for him, or really for me to get the balls enough to talk to him. Whats a girl to do? I told my mom about it, because well...for once i had no idea what to do. She says coffee is just coffee and that i should go. Then of course she kept questioning who he was, did i know him from class, what was his last name again, he's older then me, yadda yadda yadda. Thats when i tuned her out.

...So i wrote him back. I mean i wrote him back before i talked to my mom i just needed to hear my concerns out loud i guess. I just said something like "coffee would be cool, yadda yadda yadda". I don't know. It's just coffee after all. Who ever got hurt gettiing coffee. Maybe i shouldn't think it will be like San Andreas, clearly coffee is not code for "we're going to party like it's 1999".

Why wait until i'm on vacation to ask me for coffee. and why coffee something i can't turn down. If it would have been "maybe we can go listen to Barry Manilow Cd's in my apartment" than i could have turned him down, and avoided all this weirdness i am feeling.

We'll see what happens.

Diamond in the Rough.

Wasn't that the theme of America's Next Top Model this season?

Anyway.

I've always heard that phrase use about aspects of my life. When i was in journalism i wrote this really good article about a faculty member at my highschool. He was like the oldest guy ever, who wore pimped out suits, talked about the good old days when you had to walk to school. His name was Mr. Mack and he became a sort of staple at the school. The interview with him went great, he was open to all the questions that i had to ask him and even helped me when i drew a blank( i suck at interviewing people, i once had to interview the coach for the swimming team, and i was nearly recruited.). I spent the whole week making sure the paper was just the way i wanted it to be. And even the editor and the teacher said it was a good article. It was touching. My teacher said "right now it is a diamond in the rough, but with a little polishing, it is a really strong article." Of course it was not published and instead some piece about the newest fashion was put in.

Thats pretty much seems to be the story of my emergence into "adulthood" i have seemed to reverse the aging process and have somehow reverted in an awkard teen stage, which usually comes before the age of 19. I'm still awkard and unsure of myself, and have days when i just want to feel pretty.

I mean when i was younger( i know i'm only 19), i was like "i'm hot stuff, and i know it". My brother always jokes that i was more of a boy crazed girl when i was 8, then now. And i wonder if that is because in a way i'm afraid to be dare i say...pretty. attractive. A hot stellar babe.

The times i have been asked out i A) was too blind to notice i was getting hit on, and only realized afterwards when Marie made fun of me B) hid under a table. Okay so i've been stalked a couple of times, but thats a whole other traumatic story, that my mom loves to bring up.

I dont know why i've become so uncomfortable in my skin. Maybe its a fear of relationships with people. Of getting so invovled only to have to leave them. Really its the fear that they will leave me, grow bored, move on, and i will have invested all of that emotion and devotion only to be rejected.

Even though i said Romeo and Juliet was a stupid movie, when i flip through the channels while looking for something to watch, i will stop when i see it on the telly and get that feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe Romeo and Juliet had it easy. I mean sure it's tragic that they died, and their families suffered greatly. But they will never grow old, never get mad at each other, never become disinterested, worry about jealousy, deception. I mean i'm not saying there is not a lot of good things that come with love, but for them they will never experience the bad. The bad is painful, i mean it's life, but it's a painful part.

Relationships are not somthing you can scrap when things get bad. I mean it's not something you can just run away from (now the dream about the doctor makes sense). And i notice that i have a tendency of running when things get too tough for me . When emotions get involved that is. I have protected myself from getting hurt in relationships by denying them all together.

So when i look back and go "i wonder where the big shift came and i became such a shell of who i "was" " I notice that what i should be really saying is "When i did i become so afraid". I think thats what the whole diamond in the rough thing refers. All the pieces are there, but you i'm just not putting them together right. I assumed i was missing the pieces, that i lost them along the way, and was on a search to recover them. When really I've always had them, but just have not put them in the right place, and the picture is just distorted.

"What will we do Macgyver?"

As I have stated before...I am pretty much the female Macgyver.

Okay so I can't build a bomb with a toothpick and some aluminum foil. But I do think of a plan very quickly in sometimes stressful situations. Other than my complete devotion of wanting to help people for the remainder of my life, to do some greater good for people, I mainly want to be a doctor, because it's really the only thing I know how to do. I mean sure journalism was once something I wanted to do for fun, but after an unsuccessful high school stint I choose to writing in journal form, or fiction(I started writing a new story yesterday, extremely excited). I was interested in screenplays and movies for a while, well I still am, but I know that there are a lot of people who are out to "make it". When I weighed my options, dabbled in what else I would be good at, could possible do for a living, I always came back to being a doctor. Not even like a doc who works in the hospital(though thats what I probably want to really do) but I have always been interested in psychology and things like that.

I think my passion for becoming a doctor, stems from my abilities at solving problems. My Macgyver skills. I usually don't assert myself, but give me a door that won't open, and paper jam, an exit out of a huge building, and other things, I will quickly see what the problem is, and come up with the steps to fix it. I usually pull it out of my ass though( I know I could have used a better phrase..sue me...okay don't really sue me, i'm a broke college student), I mean I don't really know what my plans involve, but they usually start with me saying "do you have a pen and a wet paper towel", no duck tape for this story friends.

I guess thats a positive aspect(since I always seem to dwell on the negative), is that I think quick on my feet. I don't crack under pressure,and don't give up, until all my resources have dried up. Part of my Macgyver personality traits is being equipped with a plan. If Plan A fails, you have to have Plan B, C, D...

Lately i've been thinking a lot about Plan B.

Plan A is for me to go directly to Med school in Penn some where, or areas surrounding that(Boston,NYC, and dare I say it...NJ). Ideally I would like to say that plan was the easiest one to accomplish, but my not so stellar performances in science related areas would say otherwise. I mean I can honestly say, I have never been a fan of the boring science crap. I mean I like genetics, tell me to talk about progeria,retrovirus, and defects resulting in trisomy 1(down syndrome), and other diseases... you've got me started. Tell me to talk about what the hell a mitochondria is, or how to find the molarity a compound that is involved in neutralization reaction....you got another thing coming.

It's not that I don't like learning about the boring aspect, but they are so broad that unless you have some background on them(or are a programmed freshman sent from the CIA to make me feel like a idiot), then they kind of seem like a big pile of mess, inside my head.

Plan B. Oh plan B. I changed my major to psych like 2 months ago, and when I went to the conference with the med students, they had all said the same thing. "Take a year off". Med school will basically suck the life out of you, "run for the hills". Okay the last one I didn't here, but you literally saw that med school had beat some of those kids down.

Though taking off for a year of debauchery(though it would be totally fun) is out of the question. Grad school isn't. I figure psychology is something that I am hella interested in, and would be sort of fun to have that year or whatever in books and crap( I don't know why I imagine grad school to be some great highlight of my educational years.) I mean I could go to school in NJ,PA, MA or maybe even hit back up NYC. I like to learn, I like filling my head with new knowledge and thats a good plan B. A great plan B I must say. I'll formulate more things that go along with Plan B later, but the blueprint seems strong.

I decided to grade myself this semester. Forgot those normal grades the professors gave me. But looking back on my semester I notice all the things I could have done, and the all the time I wasted.

B- in trying new things. I did go to the conference, and Kays house, and joined a 2 new clubs(I am now writing a newsletter for a pre-med club), but I didn't go to Art boys club, the theater down the street, or any school related activities.

C in making some friends at school. I did talk to more people then last year. I mean I talked with my lab partner, and some people in bio, a girl named Erin(who I talked to later on in the semester) and me and Kay are becoming wickedly close. But I still have Mike hanging on by a thread, and I haven't talked to people with more of the same interest as me at school.

D in keeping my room clean. I'm disgusting. I am not organized, I lose everything, and towards the end I have become so use to the clutter I couldn't find anything when it was clean.

F with the boys and other social things. Art boy was bust, though he lives in the same hall, one floor up, and I keep running into him. I avoided leaving my room at all cost, and created crushes on celebrities intstead of boys who I can actually attain (eww... I had a dream about my brothers friend Robert, who graduated with me, and who I knew and talked on and off. It was hella creepy...).

A for...I don't know. I just wanted to have one A on my "you are flunking life Beckett" list. I guess an A is for...My...willingness to...okay I guess an A can go to leaving behind the past. I recognize that I can not progress into my very bright future if I do not blow out the fading light of my past. Though I recently got in touch with my old friend from White Plains, I have not attempted to call my Ex-best friend in New Rochelle, and have even deleted her off of IM.

A is for the growth I am displaying, and for further things I learn about myself as I let myself be vulnerable, and let go of some of my constraints. Thats counts as 2 A's. Yeah

So thats 14 divided by 6. which is a astounding 2.3 GPA of my life. It's a C-. I'll do better next semester. My life deserves at least a 3.5 grade report.

Oh...before I go. I read the most amazing words off of DarkMachines blog. I've been away for a week, so the majority of my night was spent catching up on what I had missed on everyones blog. I'm star gazer. I mean i'm a dreamer so naturally the stars are profound for me. I think every year for about 5 years I asked for a telescope. So I ended up with so many of them by the time I was 12 that I later gave them away. So reading the line, well the whole entry actually a) made me tear up b) made me give it an A for most profound thought in the closing days of this year. It was really deep people, Deep. So in closing here is the thought that made me tear up in reference to the stars I stare up at night( I hope you don't mind me putting it on my here blog).

"How nice it would be to be with them. I would't ask for much, just to fill the space between the stars. No one would even notice I was there."

Is it You?

Blogger world...you look so different since last week.

What the hell have i been doing?

Well what i haven't been doing is?
-sleeping with a toothless crossdresser who may have one time slept with my cousin earline in the trailer down by the river
-chatting it up with oprah about how to decorate a bathroom with an extrodinary hot designer named Nate, who may or may not be gay, but i don't care.
-Having a dna test for the 9th time to see who the hell really is my baby daddy
-Living in a house with four other people, trying to find a job, not burn down the house, and make as much friends as possible as to not upset the residence in the house, all while trying to decorate the house.

What i have been doing:
Is watching entirely too much talk shows (Jerry, Maury, and Montel), playing my new game the Sims, and pulling my hair out because i am totally bored being home.

My absence can be credited to my mother, who thinks that because we have cell phones, the use for a phone in the house is ridiculous. We don't have DSL because well my mom still doesn't know how to use the email, so i have waited, impatiently, of course until the wonderfully loud screaching noise of the modem came on later on today.

I have absolutely missed blogging, and realize how addictive it is to want to write down every waking thought that pops in my head. There were moments of "that was a really cool thought i had i should go write it down...oh wait damn". So needless to say i am very happy, to continue ranting on this thing. I have gone a week without doing so.

Home has been...well i don't know how to put it. I will say that lady luck has here eye out for me, and not in a good way. As soon as we get home, the car dies. I mean, won't start, cursing bloody hell to the heavens, and then being defeated, and trapped in the house for a week. A whole week, without the internet, without the Xbox because apparently it broke so my brother sold it for 50 dollars, and reading The House of Mirth which nearly made me pull my hair out.

I have also come to realize that without me, my brother and mom would a) starve b) freeze to death c) not have a house decorated for christmas. It's disturbing. I have literally brought the life back into this dried up house, and i am exhausted.

A couple of days ago, i was going through some of my old journals(the ones i wrote in) that went back to 4th grade. I do it every time i come home, i go in my journals and try to see what the helll is wrong with me, and why i am the way that i am, and maybe if i find it, i can fix it and make myself whole again.

This time was different though. With the first line of my journal i literally got tired of reverting back to the past. I notice i do that a lot. I keep remembering how great things were, that i have been stagnant in that loathing state of what could of been, instead of what is. I have wasted so much time, and relationships with people who probably don't even remember who i am. And at that moment i choose not to do that anymore. I don't want to deny myself all these experiences that i will have because i can't seem to move from a past that is no longer mine.

I'm not who i may have been without all the shit i have gone through, and even though they have moved on, i still linger. I don't want to linger anymore. I deserve more than to linger. I have to write down my "starting over" list soon. I'm finally ready to move on from trying to find some link to my unhappiness, because i realized it resides in me not wanting to move foward. I have caught myself in a trap and need to be freed from it. So i boxed up all my old journals, stories, and taped it up like no one else's business. It is deep in my closet, where it belongs, along with the past.

So, more updates are bound. i have the internet now. YEAH!!!

I did okay this year with my grades. and by okay i mean i made the same grades i made last year. The exact same. Which means my GPA has remained unchanged. I have to kick ass next semester. I am taking Bio 102, psych, engl lit, spanish, calc or phsyics, and then will be taking a lot of summer classes (thanks to loans), so my plate is pretty filled. I also have to get in control of my life. I hate being unhappy, i would like to make friends, and get the eye of a certain art boy who is amazingly beautiful. I'm kind of ready for 2005 to be over with. The new year promises something...maybe the something i have been looking for.

Things to look forward to in 2006:
-Well and i'll be turning 20 March 1st.
-I will be heading to NYC to see my dad, the Museum of Modern Art, and family, but won't be trying to relive the past as i have done before.
-Hopefully i will get to work in the hospital.
-Art boy will notice me and fall head over heels in love(okay so thats pushing it)
-The summer promises 30 credits i wil acquire from the school in town, working at the hospital with the hot doctor who helped my brother with the little "problem", and volunteering at a summer camp of arts for kids.

But i'll just enjoy the rest of 2005 for now.

Now back to playing the Sims. I've played the Urbz, but this one seems different. Like i don't just get to dance near a gambling, hip hop, rocker, socialite until i become the cool person in the neighborhood. Apparently i actually have to start a life for a sim. It seems like too much, let me start mine first before i revert to video games. Oh!!! but i get to create a hot Art boy...nevermind this game may actually be fun.

More later. For real.

Me Vs. Bio and Chem

Son of a monkey's uncle...D-DAY has arrived. Today is my chem and bio final. And hopefully i will kick it's ass.

It's gonna be hard.

I may have to display some of my wickedly awesome karate chop moves.

But i will not let it defeat me.

Some days i really do wish i were a ninja. Would probably make things a lot easier.

I just finished Chem, which...lets just say i took the whole 3 hours to finish.

My little hands were scribbling like never before.

Bio is in 2 hours.

Must some how become "super genuis science woman" in 90 minutes, so i can confidently ace it, or get a B that's fine with me.

I got back two of my grades already. History= B( damn Ta who grades... need we say.... like a Nazi.) and a lovely A in spanish. Oh Yeah!! Muy Bien.

After this i go home, my mom is picking me up and i will return to my very chaotic existence with them.

I warn you now, for all the future entries that will most likely go something like "please get me out of here, i may just stab somebody" or something along tha lines.

Time to go defeat Bio.

Even when you want to escape you can't....

hmmm....It seems I have got myself in a catch 22.

WHO IS BECKETT AMELIA HUGHES?

My mom has always taught me the value of keeping things to myself because it makes things a whole lot easier.

-We never talked to our neighbors, until we made sure their creepy level was not above a 5.

-We don't give out too much information, unless we have to.

-And we sure as hell make sure our house is our domain. It is the escape from the world we enjoy after a tough day in a place that can be cruel and unforgiving.

-We have always been secretive people. We don't answer knocks on our door. We don't answer phone call unless it is from family and friends, and embarrassingly enough we like closed doors. I like being trapped in my own little world, in my space, room, house that is all my own.

Because secrets are our things, we have learned to escape(literally) when they are sought out. My mom has taken the "pick up all that we have known and leave tactic" my brother has apoted the "fight your way out of a paper bag tactic"(which is quite funny to watch) . But I have learned the "back into a corner, roll into a ball, and hope that the questions some how bounce off my shell, and wait until I am free to uncurl."

So by nature I have adapted to the life of secrecy. I would make a perfect secret agent(though they would have to give me a cooler name), because when all else fails, Secrets are my forte. Though my emotions aren't.

When i asked my mom if i should continue writing on this blog, she was adamant that i go forward with it, because my voice needs to be heard. Strangely this has become my escape, writing, documenting, telling my tales of everyday existence is this crazy place. And as an escape it has become a safe haven for my thoughts, it has become my writing home, especially when I don't feel like I'm home in my "real" life.

I know that doesn't seem like much. I know that people want more. I have notice that even as I attend school the whole social aspect revolves around giving yourself freely, which is hard for me. Everyone soon learns, that some things I just don't tell.That my evasive nature is just something they too have to adapt too. Those things are usually the things I write in this blog. I don't walk the street freely yelling "today I cried...for a real long time...Philadelphia is a really sad movie!" But it's vice versa for this, i'll tell my emotions, fears, doubts, million crushes that I have(art boy still reigning at # 1), and even getting beat up by a 6 year old, but in return those are really the only things I can give myself freely doing, because something just have to remain secrets.

I hope thats enough.

I know I don't seem like a tangible human being. But I am graspable. I wrote my whole English final on my words being the windows to my soul and don't give my soul out freely. that my words are more than what you can see from me, because what I write is who I am, and that's more important than anything. Hopefully you can feel me in the words that I write, you can somehow see me, and know me, and be apart of what I'm going through. It's the life of a secret person(what can I say), because I need those secrets. I have nothing else that will sustain me other than those things.

Let this be my escape. An escape in which I leave all that's behind. An escape that when writing makes me feel like

-a confident girl/woman who is embarking on this great journey, and herself along the way.

-a funny, witty girl who has great friends and an awesome life worry free of school, tuition, but only enjoying the time here.

Or maybe

-a girl who has her shit together, who you look at and can tell she is going someplace. She is on top of everything.

But mainly she isn't a girl with only one friend to her name, who still has horrible social skills, who cannot manage to tell the boy she has a crush on that she likes him, who goes unnotice in the crowd,(god this sound like a MADE commercial. "I want to be Made") and who somedays just lost.

Let this be my escape. It's the only place that I feel comfortable at. Its the only place I have been able to express myself freely and not feel judged. It has evolved into this Dr. Phil isque( except him being old and bald) revelation for me, as I read back on my entries and notice the progress I have made in escaping this rut.

Let this be my escape. It's what I hold on dearly to.

I hope that's enough.

-Beck-

HELP ME!!!

Secrets...

" You may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I'm not who I used to be No longer easy on the eyes but these wrinkles masterfully disguise The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw Something he was not looking for: both a beginning and an end But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize When he catches his reflection on accident

On the back of a motor bike With your arms outstretched trying to take flight Leaving everything behind But even at our swiftest speed we couldn't break from the concrete In the city where we still reside. And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides Like brothers on a hotel bed ." -Death Cab for CutieYou may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I'm not who I used to be No longer easy on the eyes but these wrinkles masterfully disguise The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw Something he was not looking for: both a beginning and an end But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize When he catches his reflection on accident
On the back of a motor bike With your arms outstretched trying to take flight Leaving everything behind But even at our swiftest speed we couldn't break from the concrete In the city where we still reside. And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides Like brothers on a hotel bed Like brothers on a hotel bed Like brothers on a hotel bed Like brothers on a hotel bed

When I was younger, my brother and I spent one weekend a month at my fathers house. It wasn't court ordered or anything, but I guess my mom saw the importance of my father having some part of our lives. My mom had moved us from a pretty rough section where my father lived, when she left him when I was three. So even though I grew up in a neighborhood of car pools, staying out until the street light, and ditching summer camp with my cousins, my brother and I were born into a neighborhood that was destroyed with violence, boarded up houses, and secrets.

Funny thing about secrets are that they are only uncovered when someone spills the beans. They either die with us, or end up being told too us, destroying it's value. If anyone knows New York, or has at least been near the Tri-state area you will know how the neighborhoods are constructed. My dad lived in one of those apartments that from an unfamiliar eye would look like a house. Basically they are houses that have like 3 decent size apartments in them. Well my dad lived on a street with about 3 of these houses lining the block. It was a pretty neighborhood. My grandma lived in the apartment downstairs, my dad lived in the apartment in the back, and this nice older lady lived in the apartment upstairs. So when we came over to visit, we were basically visiting, my dad, my grandma, my uncles, and neighborhood friends that were always over.

I was use to be the "odd man out". I wouldn't say I was ignored by my fathers side of the family, just that they liked my brother better. My brother looked like my dad, while I was this little girl with the button nose, luminous eyes, and hair no one knew what to do with. (I was called Doll growing up, cause everyone said I remind them on those doll babies. Disturbing, I know). My dad loved me though, my mom said he took me everywhere with him, I was so small that carried me by tucking me under his arms, like a briefcase, and carried me down the street.

When we were over we hung out with he neighborhood kids, I played every form of tag(freeze tag, TV tag, movie tag, regular tag), card games, Red light Green light, baseball, kickball, who could run to the corner and back to the stoop the fastest, and every other outside game. My dad lived next door to a woman and her 2 sons and 1 daughter. The sons names were Jason, Justin and a girl named Candace (we called her Candy). Candace was very nice, I hung out with her most weekends, Jason was in his late teens when I first met him, and was too busy fixing his car and yelling at the kids to stay away from it, for any of us to get to know him. Justin, though was around our age group. He is about 5 years older than Morg, and 7 years older than me. He never said much to me, but he was always at my dads house and my dad said that he was like a brother to us...but at that age I thought everyone was close like family so I didn't realize he meant an actual brother.

Justin has never liked me. I mean seriously. NEVER. Okay so here's my sad memory of my brother:

It was a Sunday afternoon and me and Morg were playing in front of Justins house(because he had this fence we used a base for tag) and I think I had made Morg play jump rope or something. Justin always had the coolest toys, and everyone wanted to go in his house and play them. He also had these cool mask that he bought at the store which I was in love with(you could see them from the window). As me and Morg were playing, Justin opened the window(his room was on the 2nd floor) and yelled out to Morgan. We both turned to see him sticking his head out the window and he started talking to Morg about some cool video game. I was anticipating the invite up, but all I heard was "hey morg do you want to come and play some games", and I kind of got the hint I wasn't invited. The hint was further vilified when Justin came downstairs to open the door, and needless to say, it slammed in my face before I could go in.

Only memory of him. I don't know why that still hurts today.

I just remember dropping my jump rope and running around the corner against a brick wall and preventing myself from crying, even though I wanted to so bad. After about 5 minutes I just returned back to my dads house, and when he asked why I had returned I said "because I got bored playing outside." I know it seems like nothing and I shouldn't be crying right but to a 7 year old that was crushing. Apparently to a 19 year old it is still crushing. From that day forward that's usually how his conversation/relationship/general attitude toward me went. When he had birthday party, I only found out because I had wondered where Morgan and the rest of the neighborhood kids were. I remember him being in his backyard with a table and people having a good time, and before I could be spotted I ran, I ran so fast that I fell and scrapped my knee. And the only person I had to go back to was my dad. I remember sitting on my dads lap in the bathroom while he wiped the blood from my knee and once again I just made up some lie that I was being careless and fell, but I didn't tell him why I was running.

I guess what hurts the most is that we are so much alike. We are both quiet, and considered the smart ones, and if we had a conversation would see how much we are alike in a way. But my whole life he has basically just turned me away. He was accepted into a private school in Washington on full scholarship in High school, and my dad was so excited. The last day he was "home" before leaving, my dad made me and Morg say goodbye, and I swear it was the first time I have ever heard him say my name. I wondered why he couldn't say my name when saying hello, instead of goodbye. It's a big blow to the ego. Cause what you want from people is to know that you matter, and that you exist, and some how in his life I just don't. And maybe I secretly want to, I just want him to acknowledge that I'm not a 7 year old he can just turn away anymore.

After the private school, Jus took some time off. He came back to a place that had remained the same while he changed. And in some way to prove that he was still from the good old neighborhood of blue collar workers and Bruce, he just caught up with the wrong people, yadda yadda yadda bar fight didn't turn out to well yadda yadda yadda he got in serious trouble, that devastated my dad. He was the golden boy, in a way he still is. Morg is the one with the new schemes, a partier, a good kid but not going to be president of any companies in the near future. I am the only girl, the dreamer, the one you can count on. But Justin, he was totally the golden boy, he was talented and handsome and smart, and helped around the neighborhood. People knew that he was going somewhere, he had that air about him. People knew that if he could get out of that neighborhood anyone could, with brains and a good heart.

Even now, as he's near Niagara Falls, my dad speaks to him regularly. He has asked about Morg, and I think my dad says he asks about me only so I don't get hurt by the fact that he doesn't.

Too late.

For reason I care about what he thinks about me, and I wonder what is it about me that he hates. Cause I don't hate him. In a weird odd way, I want him to like me. I want him to care about the little sister that he has.

The fragile little sister, who is still at the stoop awaiting him to invite me in.

"she likes to have fun"

So at about 2pm yesterday, as I was study European History(and watching Lifetime) I got a call on my cell....It was Kay. We have been writing emails and talking on the phone since our trip a couple of weekends ago. She has been hinting at the prospect of me coming to her house for dinner and a movie for a while now, so I knew the call was bond to come. Of course I didn't expect it the weekend of exams. For some reason I have this need to want to prove to her that I'm apt for doing things. Yes I'm a little unsocial, and can spend the whole day in my safe room without a care in the world, but the whole point of making friends is to do things with them. So I couldn't turn her down when she extended the "so we are watching March of the Penguins,and are ordering pizza and wanted to know if you wanted to stop by." After a "well I don't know, I kind of have to study" I was like "okay pick me up at 4".

I never know what constitutes a lax t-shirt and jeans day, or if because I am going to someone's house I have to dress a little decent. So I dressed decently in t-shirt(Ramones) and jeans(the ones I haved forever), and top that off with my cool pink slippers( I mean if this is an inside thing, why wear shoes that I will most likely want to take off, we are eliminating the middle man by just wearing slippers). I wouldn't say I was nervous...Okay that's a lie. I know that she has three kids(yes three) 13(she got pregnant when she was young) 6, and 2. I had the whole spectrum there to worry about. It's not that I don't like kids, they just scare me. They ask a lot of questions, they are blunt, and a 13 year old. I hated 13 year olds when I was 13. I called my mom who told me that I needed to go and enjoy myself. That I needed some relaxing, and to not have my head in the book the whole day. Even if only for a couple of hours.

So when 4 o'clock came, and I got her call saying she was downstairs I took one last look at the pile of books on my bed, and headed to the parking lot. When I saw her really expensive care awaiting Ramones wearing me, I was like "hmmm, maybe should have rethought the whole t-shirt and jeans thing." Kay has money, and you can tell she like spending it, but she doesn't rub it in people's faces so I guess that cool.

Before we got out of the parking lot she was like "my kids are a handful..." We went to the supermarket, picked up cookies, soda, chips, and a magazine and then went to her place. Guarded gates, security pad, big houses, nice cars...I was a little struck by it all. Since Kay is separated with her husband, she moved into these really expensive apartments that are really nice. We had good conversation on the way to the house, talked about the face transplant in France, stem cell research, and cloning, the things future scientist talk about. Of course I talked about me being the "female macgyver", its true you never seen me in action, give me a wet paper towel, a paper clip, and a pen and you'd be amazed at what I can do, my days of wearing fake fur when my mom dressed me up, and ballerina dreams.

Going into her house at first was awkward. I mean your home is like your soul, and is just so private, so to be invited into see how people live is freaky. Her husband was sleeping, and the kids were sitting in the living room(or waiting to scope out the new friend) on these big chairs. At first I kind of attached myself to Kay, asking if there was anything I could do. I looked at her book collection (which was like a library of classics couldn't find anything that wasn't a classic), and then of course started playing with her kitten(named Kitty) who was hiding in the corner(reasons for that later).

I know that you have to let kids warm up to you, embracing them, when they are doing the "who the hell are you face" is not good. So when I took my place near kitty her daughter Emma(2) and son Jake(6) came over and investigated me. I guess seeing that I was not one of their moms older friend, they invited me to play. The 13 year old...a little harder than that. The movie started but I do think I saw but 5 minutes of it. The little boy challenged me to a game of some card games kids play, and after beating me 20 times, I made him play a card game of war, which he won(I let him win). He then jumped up and down threw the cards in the air, told me I was a loser, and that for the rest of the night I had to tell him how great he was. The little girl was coloring, and kept sticking a marker in my face(while I was getting beat by a 6 year old) and saying Orange(when it was really purple), when I wasn't paying attention to her she would yell "beckett" which sounded like "bee-kit" over and over and over again, and then would scream when I didn't look at her.

Then I was forced into more competitions with Jake, basketball(I lost he cheated) soccer(he cheated) running up and down the hallway (he cheated) the reading game(which some how I lost), and hide and go seek. Around the game of hide and seek the older boy Michael realized that if his brother and sister thought I was okay, he would take a shot with me too. Hide and go seek was by far my favorite game. It involved me hiding(sitting, recovering, praying that he would not find me and I would have a moment of silence for 5minutes) and Jake looking for me. Michael was in charge of making sure Jake did not find me, by pointing him in all the wrong directions. And though I hid under the table 90% of the time(hiding under a crib the other time, but it took him so long to find me, I nearly passed out), he still seemed pretty excited when he found me. Emma would go find Jake while I walked slowly behind her, he was hiding in the laundry room this one time, which I wouldn't have figured out if she hadn't yelled "Jake!!!" and then started giggling.

This clearly was not an adults night out. Kay was sitting on the couch knitting( yes knitting) her husband was flipping through the channels (fault with really hott dude is that he seems pretty uninvolved with the kids. I mean he sits, yells commands from a distance and yet does not follow through with consequences. He just seems disconnected), while I was some how getting a 2 year old, 6 year old, and two 13 year olds (he had a friend over) to like me. I spent the whole rest of the night sliding down the hallway in socks, being dragged by 4 kids to see a movie they had made(well Michael and his friend made it, pretty funny I must say), and by the end of the night playing rock, paper,scissor and a elementary math game(which I clearly dominated) though I let Jake win even if he was off by a couple of numbers.

By 10:00 I was exhausted,and had completely fallen out on the floor from running back and forth. I couldn't turn around without some little face telling me what we were going to do next. Talk about it was time to go, my jeans were ripped, my hair was a wreck, and it was apparent that my time was up, and time to go back to the university. I think they knew I was leaving because the two youngest kept asking "why". I kept forgetting that Kids asks the same question, over and over again, until you give up having an answer. By the 30th "why" i simply just said "your mom has the answer i bet if you ask her she will tell you". Michael talked about the next time I would be over, and how he would annihilate me in a game of "Scene It". I think not friends....I think not, i am the queen of Scene it. Some how in one night I manage to be a 13 year old boy, who talked about video games and annihilation, a 6 year old boy who played a game in which we were invisible( I am still confused by that one) and a 2 year old girl(who is really rough with the cat, I made them play a game called "whoever is nicest to the cat wins the best person in the whole universe award") that colored outside of the lines(it killed me to color outside the lines) with fabric markers( I nearly had a heartattack).

Apparently kids like me, and so do people who are older than me. Now if I can find that fine balance in the middle with my age bracket, I will have solved my social problems.

While I was dodging tennis balls yesterday I let a little secret slip. Well it's not a secret just someone I don't talk about. Kays husband was asking me how many siblings I grew up with(I guess seeing how well I was dealing, and ducking his kids) I mentioned that I have 2 brothers( not just Morg), and grew up with a lot of boy cousins. I didn't even realize that I said 2 brothers, seeing that i don't talk about him at all.

So I have another brother. His name is Justin and he is my half-brother. He is 26 and lives near Niagara Falls. He and my dad are really close, but... The whole thing is another story that I will no doubt be documenting soon. I don't know why he came up, seeing that I never talk about him.

Surprisingly I had a really good night. I didn't get much studying done, but I guess more importantly I charmed the likes of three kids and their parents. I don't see how peope have kids. It takes a lot of hard work. I mean I don't know if I can handle having them, you have to always be paying attention to them, and yadda yadda, and I was there for one night. I need a shirt that says "i survived a night at Kays house". I mean I never notice how bad me and Morg probably were and I cant think of how my children...EWW, I rather not think about kids for now I say "no way" in that department, the life of being a childless, husbandless(unless Gavin Degraw, James Franco or Joseph Gordon-Levitt asked me) girl will do for me and probably will do for me for a long time. Kids are not in the near future. I think i'd rather have my freedom. I'd rather go out and hang with friends, not have to worry about coming home to a husband or kids. Thank goodness for the single life.

Back to studying. Damn

Embellish if you must

Just pretend I said something brilliant, funny, and witty. That should make up for this completely short post.

Imagine that I laid down some big epiphany that shows my thought process.

Imagine that I am telling an amazing story about my day, and life, and boy that I may or may not have a crush on.

Insert whatever you want here.

Create whatever you think I may be doing right now.

Embellish all that you can.

Today is a study day, which means I will be locked in the library,with my CD player(maybe I will get an ipod for Christmas), a candy bar, and hoping that all the creepy noises will not be there.

The life of a college student during finals...What can I say.

Martha Stewart Eyes Strikes Again

I should have seen it coming a mile away.

I mean what was i thinking.

It's the end of the semester. Its the holiday season. Why didn't i see it coming.

For all those who don't know, i wrote a post I think in October around the 15 or so, about this crazy girl in my English class. I mean she made a cheesecake from scratch, made a girl cry by telling her sad story of her friend OD-ing, and how she was a bad, bad girl, who probably had orgies in the woods with boys. She's crazy.

Anyway. Today was basically my last day of class. It was my last day of English, History, Bio, and Spanish class with cool Ta, before exams. English is at 8, so i got there and today we basically paired up with a partner(mike and I) and went over our papers that we have to revise for Tuesday(the final exam). Apparently someone slashed my professors tires today, and she was running late. She called "crazy martha stewart eyes"(in the beginning of the year she told us that she would call us on the cell if she wouldn't make it to class on time, i guess she saw that MSE is the biggest brownoser so she called her), and told her to tell us to get started without her and that she would be there shortly. So when everyone was in class Martha Stewart stood up and went to the front of the class

Martha:[she is holding a Christmas Bag] So prof is running today, she told me to tell you to get started, and that she will be here shortly. So even if you guys just talk until she comes please look productive for my sake. blah blah blah

So we are all staring at this bag in her hand. Maybe it's a bomb, maybe it's anthrax, maybe she secretly killed the professor is has holding whats left of her in the bag. She opens the bag and pulls out....

I'm one for suspense...

Homemade goodies!!!!

We each got our own bag, that was tied neatly with a bow that was filled with one cookie(that she made) in the shape of a christmas tree, candy, and a candy cane. GIVE ME A BREAK.

Me and Mike were giving each other the "here she goes again" look, but took it anyway. I ate the cookie i was hungry, it was morning, and i'm ashamed of myself because of it. I should not be promoting her craziness, by munching on her nasty sugar cookie in the middle of Spanish. But Damn we all slip up...it was a really gross cookie. Okay it wasn't that bad, but she is creepy.

So later on as i'm going to History, i see her leaving the classroom that i am now entering. I take my seat in the corner, and before she leaves, i see her with a new bag. This one is blue and has a big christmas tree on it, and i see her approach her teacher. Of course i'm thinking the same thing i was when i saw her stand in front of us in English "everyone duck, she has a bomb". To my disgust she pulls out, a big(this thing was not like the small poetry book i gave to my AP english teacher, because i slept in her class and felt bad for not paying attention to a truly amazing woman, though the kids in that class sucked) thing that was the size of a small DVD player, attached with something else. It was in this shiny green paper with another bow. And the Teacher was all "thanks, wow". I mean she seemed generally happy that she got a gift, and i knew that meant she would probably not fail Martha Stewart even if she wanted to.

Is this really how you succeed in life? By sucking up? I mean i could put on an apron, bake up some half assed cookies, wrap something poorly and you mean i could get good grades in school? Crazy i tell you.

My stomach feels okay, so i guess poison wasn't in it, but if i die from some unknown reasons, remember Martha Stewart. She did it.

Back to studying. BLAH ;(