hey, let's not just turn around this world

Meme stolen from Melissa_Tlc.

Respond with your name, favorite color and birthday.

1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a dessert with which you and I would have a food fight. (Or, since I can't confirm my expertise on various desserts, something we both have in common)
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (maybe/maybe not).
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of (your Patronus?).
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

1. I love to dance in the rain. I love rain. I love snow even when it's freezing cold. I love all weather, basically.

2. I get hurt easily. One pinch, one word. I take things too seriously and that's my problem. Not to mention that my basal ganglia is far too overactive which means that the normal things you people do such as "not think about it" means I have to think about it. Repetitive thoughts haunt me. Right now I don't have to resort to rituals to satisfy my compulsions, but that does not mean I am still not paranoid.

3. I am needy. I like affection. I get used to it. When it's taken away from me, I go through a stage where my heart is just dark and empty.

4. I went through a most distressing and annoying stage in my life where I thought that my purpose in life was to be an activist for all the "right things" before I realized; hey. I don't HAVE to. Even if they are the right things, I don't have to believe in them or stand up for them. That was when I developed real opinions. And you know what? It feels really good. Doing something for the sake of doing it is just not enough. I need to feel it before I do it. That's when the real passion comes in.

5. I really love the oldies. People call it hanging onto the past, but whatever it is, I like songs from the past from time to time.

6. I don't listen to the radio. I don't know what's hip and new, I just know what I hear and like, that's all. Sorry :(.

7. I have met some real assholes and they've inflicted a lot of stress and repressed anger in me that is sometimes very misdirected towards others. If I seem like a bitch, I am sorry. I really am. I have the worst temper in the world. I really do.

8. It's my nature to be possessive of what I have, and even when I try I can't change the way I feel. So even when I'll try not to seem jealous, I still feel jealous. I think we all do sometimes. The heart isn't rational. At least, most hearts aren't.

9. I tend to shy away from people and seem very stuck-up. I am not. I just don't know how to handle myself properly or stand up for myself. I know exactly what I want to say, but I often don't have the guts to say it. I am working on this.

10. I am under the impression that Oscar Wilde has been one of the best things to happen to me in a long time. For those who haven't read him yet: I envy that you'll discover him for the first time.

11. I really love the way people think sometimes. The human mind fasinates me, moreso because I have trouble with getting out of my own. I want to understand why people do things and give them reasons why they do it. I do that to myself sometimes, and sometimes I can way overanalyze my own dreams.

12. I want my major in college to be Philosophy. Many people think I want it to be English, which is sort of my second choice. A lot of other people think the only thing I am interested in doing is writing and reading, which is wrong. I have other strengths too. I am sorry to disappoint you, but yeah, I've got a brain and I know how to use it. :)

This is just a post to shamelessly show off my new cute icon.

We're in the bedroom. The window opposite the bed is showing us a roof that's sort of like a playground, surrounded by the color white. Jane, Affan, and Arifur are playing and talking and chatting. They're jumping up and down. They're having fun. They don't see me looking. I make sure I turn on the bed so they catch a glimpse. When they do there's a silence, and I head for the bathroom when my father calls me back and says, "Come back, they want to talk to you. They want to see you again. Come back."

I do, I am wearing my blue shirt and my blue skirt and tiny shorts underneath. All three are looking uncomfortable in the midst of their playground, with only a fence and the white light coming in. Jane cracks a joke, says "Oh my god, you're wearing something that short?" I look down, the length of my skirt is gone and my shorts remain. They laugh and laugh and something. It's unsettling.

I am trying to get their attention, trying to talk to them while they're still on the roof. But they don't hear. They don't hear at all. They keep on talking and ignoring, finally packing their bags and they left.

They left before I could come to play with them. I walk away. There's scattered flashes of the dream that remain, but not as a whole. The one part that I remember vividly is the white light. It's shining on them, but not me. And they leave before I could join them, which I was planning to do, which I was trying to get them to agree to. I was trying to ask, why didn't you invite me? I think I did but I am not sure of the answer.

They left in the dream like my mom said they did. But not in real life. In real life there was no Arifur in the park when we had the recreation festival, and the last time I saw all my friends together besides Francia. In real life they left because they had to go. They all left around me, leaving me in the center of the ground, staring after them, looking after. I came home, and the next morning mom and I had a fight about what she said. About how she nagged me over and over and showed off the fact that I was left by my friends to my dad. I tried to tell her, that's not true, they didn't, they had to, but she shut my mouth with her hand and kept on talking. The next morning I cried and told my sister. Told her Mom ruined everything and she was a horrible person. I told her I hated her. But I didn't, I didn't, I was just angry.

I am such a child. But you get to be when your parents treat you like one. "Why didn't your friends stay?" Mother sneers. "What kind of people are they?"

I'll tell you what kind of people they are, Mom. They're my real family. They're the only one I ever had. I told my sister that but she says it's wrong, I've got it wrong, I am supposed to love my mom, I have to love my mom. I told her I didn't like her, even though I loved her unconditionally. My mom closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep. When my sister said she was upset, Mom yelled. "Get out of my sight! Just..just get out. I don't want to hear your voice." She called me names and I didn't say anything except, "Yeah, well, we can see why this family's oh so emotionally stable. It's rubbed off on me."

It was cruel. It was uncalled for. I even ended up telling her shut up once. I know I am at fault here. I know I should apologize. I know it but I can't. This time it's more than pride stopping me. I don't want to be rejected. It's not exact, absolute fear, it's just..I've heard my mom talk about people she really hates, who she thinks are bitches, who she holds grudges against. I've heard it, and in her voice that day I almost began to think I had become her enemy, I was becoming someone she hated because I told her the truth, or what I thought was the truth at the time. I don't know the truth now. I am not even sure I know my mom anymore. I haven't said a word to her since yesterday, and she hasn't said a word to me. She's set out food for me, but she hasn't said a word. I know at least that she wants me to stay alive, that somewhere inside she still cares, and I feel the same for her. But that's not enough for us to quit the silence. And I hate silence. It's as cruel and cold as everything I've said to her. It's as cruel and cold as the world and the biting wind and winter and the frost. I hate it but there's no way to break it. I am hoping I am wrong even as I write this. I am hoping I am so wrong.

Oh dear lord, where has originality gone? Sure, there is nothing truly original, no story that is exclusively yours without the touch of another author's work, but dear lord. I have been trying to find a username, a new LJ username for about all month (not saying much as this is only the beginning of August) and IT SEEMS EVERYTIME I DO find one that rocks, it is taken by a great, cool philosophy sort of person. One who rocks far beyond what should be possible. It is not fair. God is giving me ways to feel inferior, isn't He? Oh wait. God has better things to do.

I had the best day of my life yesterday. I'd rather not describe it because, I don't know, lately when I write something in my LJ it just seems to cheapen the experience. Lately, I despise my own LJ. I want to rip it out of my life and tear it to shreds. DIEEEEEEEE, FAKE PERSON! DIEEE! YOU ARE NOT ME, YOU ARE AN IMPOSTER WHO TRIES TOO HARD AND IT IS DISGUSTING AND I LOATHE THAT YEAR OF MY LIFE. GET OUT. GET OUT, NOW!

Ah, the fine luxury of having glasses.

I can see the world outside behind the dust-tinted windows. I can see how clearly the trees are and the background beyond the tower of all the buildings. I can see the speed of everyone walking. I can tell what they're wearing and from a distance what their faces look like when withdrawn from the fog of my nearsighted vision. I can see the old gold color of the car. I can see the color of every car and the shape of its hood. I can slant back and relax against my chair instead of hunching over with my jaw aching and my arms sore to read the messages on the screen.

How long I have lived without my new keyboard (able to type z, and use the beloved shift key which I had no idea how much was worth before I lost it) in my lap, sitting more than inches from the computer, and leaning back as if this is life, and life is good. What difference a pair of lenses make, what difference to SEE. To finally see as others do. The only thing I feel I cannot do is read a story so clearly. I hate reading a story that clearly. I love being able to use my own eyes for reading a story. I can now see pictures and my wallpaper and the television. I can see every little tiny window across the desktop and what they read. You perfect visioners have it so easy. You get to wake up and open your eyes and see everything from first sight in the light of clarity. Complete and utter clarity where everything is perfect and serene.

02:29pm 19/03/2005
music: too many to count
I guess I've learned something from all of this.

That's what you're supposed to say after you cry your eyes out until you want to have your eyes shrivel out. Because then crying won't seem stupid, or useless. Because you know the reason you cry is stupid, but it makes you feel so much better afterwards. Because, hey, there you go. You've done it. It's over now. And then it starts up again at the edge of your eyes and then suddenly your heart's on fire because someone lit it with a match and forgot to put it out.

So I have learned something from all of this, and it's nothing good, and it might just change. You have to go on.

Every morning, you've got to feel that treasure chest heavying your heart down because you want something so badly you'll want to kill for it, and then you've got to wake up and breathe. Soft, sweet, slow, there, there.

It's really not going to be okay. You will fucking die inside sometimes. You will not want to live. You will want to lash out and punch everything in sight and just curl up in bed and listen to Mariah Carey because everything's so stupid and everything's just fucked up and everyone can go to hell. Then there are times you find peace, those times where you smile and exchange words and think, I have people. I do. I do. And then you're thinking inside, better tell them I love them before they leave, because they'll leave, goddamnit, that's what people do, and I need to tell them I love them just as much as they love me, even more.

People leave. They either take something with them or take everything. It's up to you to know how much.

Suddenly you're on the edge of the world, you've lost it all, and suddenly you want them to lose it all, hurt just as much. But then you get your sense back. Because revenge isn't what it's about. It's about self-esteem. And I've never had enough of it to tell when something's wrong with me. Self-esteem is my fault, but all the blame's not on me. I am not the victim, I am not the predator, but the world's messed me up just as much as I've messed myself up.

I've never had the right kind of self-esteem. Not the kind that tells you I can live without people or things. Not the kind where you pick yourself up every fucking time you're on the ground, praying to God. I've never had that. I've had arrogance. Arrogance is what's led me along. It's the false kind of self-esteem, the kind you talk to yourself about and get nowhere. Hey, it's something. It's not the best respect to my mind, but it's the thing that sweetens it the most.

I can tell myself things, but without self-esteem, I won't be able to believe it without checking twice. So for this year, God. Let's have something besides the materialistic. Let's give me something I've needed all my entire life, that I should've had but was never given and could never make. Give me my self-esteem. That thing that'll make me tick just as nicely but less painfully, that thing that'll lead me along and have real strength.

I am asking it for this year. I think fourteen years is long enough. I think so, I think so. I know so, I know so.

Other people have it, and some don't deserve it as much. I've lived without it for a while, but I think I need it now. It's the thing I need most of all.





Meme.

Select an entry that represents your entire journal. Then link it back to me.

I curse FAP for not working at a time like this. At a time where HPB Fic posting is crucial.

Ahh, well.

Title: Vanishing Cabinet
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry heads over to the Room of Requirement to retrieve his copy of Advanced Potions, and gets much more than he bargained for. H/D, sort of.

( You look at me when I kill you, Potter. )

Phew! Looks like Hurricane Dennis's little brother showed up in NY today to pay us a little visit. It was kind of creepy when the windows all started banging open and the wind was crashing in the room, but I must say, summer rain is the most beautiful weather I've ever encountered. Today was a productive day, or should I say afternoon? Granted, the day's not over yet. I feel like I learn more in hours of staring at Fictionalley Park posts more than I've ever taken in, say, a Spanish lesson. Fortunately, or unfortunately? I hit upon a thread that was very stiumlating and interesting. Sexuality in the Harry Potter Series.

I quote, once said to someone very dear to me, "Sometimes what Umbridge did to Harry reminds me of sexual harrassment.. of rape." Yes, when I was re-reading OOTP, I certainly felt that way. When he was out of the room and at a distance, he started to run, and I felt something very, much more powerful going on beneath the surface. He was forced to write in his own shedded blood, refused to tell his friends, fearing that his friends and how they would reacted would make the situation much more worse, as if it would expose the horror between this 'private fight of wills'. I read the entire thread, post by post, and was delighted to find someone who took this point of view, as well. The comparison of CoS and OOTP could not have hit home more with me. Coincidentally enough, I was re-reading CoS right after re-reading OOTP, strange isn't it? I am aware of now, how similar Ginny and Harry are, in the sense that they were both deprived, or had something taken away from them. Ginny was robbed of her soul, which Tom Riddle used to feed on for his own strength and benefit, while Harry was 'stunted' , or restrained from telling his truth. These brilliant people explain it with much more investigation into both books, so if you are interested, please go here.

I admit I was very thrown on how many metaphors and concepts people were able to come up with for the entire Chamber of Secrets. What strikes me is that these metaphors are entirely plausible. J.K. Rowling, I think, incorporates that we are going to be seeing growth when Professor Sprout introduces the Mandrakes, which are somewhat subsitutes for what we would be seeing in the children's lives and their own growth. Mandrakes become "moody and secretive", "develop acne"..yes, these two certainly point toward what both males and females go through, though in different ways. Then, they move into each other's pots when they are fully and clearly mature, which is evidently sex for humans. Um, yes, I am a bit mad. and look into things a lot, but it's fun to see this things and explore into their depths. I also admit that when I first CoS, the first HP book I've ever read when I was eleven, I did not think of any of this, was unable to, because I was a child, and I think the HP books go through a different microscope when you start reading the books at an older age. Instead of what the book just gives us, we're able to put out what we've learned, what we know and start peering more closely. This is especially useful, because the sixth book is coming out, and I am very, very glad that I know now that I cannot only experience the book, but understand it fully. It is very different and strange at the same time, that though at eleven I could grasp the horror of what was happening, years later I can understand why it was so terrifying. Admittedly, Cos, beyond any other book in the Harry Potter series I've ever read, was the most scariest for me, and will always will be. Possibly. Who knows? Eventually we will know, and that's what makes it even more exciting.

look at me
by me.

so what was it about?
we all went down,
you put an arm over us like a net,
whispered in our ears,
say yes.
so we put our doubts away,
our flashy red and blue colored things,
settled for black and white,
tried to fit in,what once we divided
was united
we told ourselves we didn't care,
told ourselves we weren't scared
as we marched in one large line of one
we told you we had nothing to lose,
but we didn't say we wanted to choose,

you said we had everything to prove,
so we stopped our talks
and walked our walks
the ones that you taught us,
the ones that we bought into.
so we put our own clothes away,
took the us out of ours sways,
put the everyone into ourselves,
thinking it was the best thing for all,
just to be everyone, just , for once, stand at the same height
so there we were, had just taken flight,
standing together so tight,
watching everyone and everyone watching us,
we put in so much faith, so much trust

yet in the end we seemed to wilt,
every single second, to fade.
we were dying, we were starving,
you pretended not to see.
oh yeah? oh yeah?
look at me.
i said, look at me.
i am not who i pretend to be.
i can make you laugh and i can make you smile,
but in the end of the while,
i am there for only a while
alone
i am me,
when i am me? i don't know who i am.
when i am me,
i don't know where the fuck i should stand
so tell me again, why are we here?
why do we pretend, why do we care?
to hold each other's hands, to stifle our cries?
i should think we can't last too long
if we pretend just to belong,
so look at me, please, look at me,
and watch me while i unfade.
i am more than a picture,
more than a page
more than your use,
more than my rage.
look at me,
just look at me,
for me, just for me.

And now...introducing...HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX...THEATRE..

Today's masterpiece: Harry's First...?


"I really like you, Harry."

He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading throughout him, paralying his arms, legs, and brain.

She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes...

And then he punched her in the face.

"I really like you too," he said earnestly, watching her fall to the floor with a thud. "Unfortunately, you're going to be become a total human hosepipe later on, so might as well not get our hopes up."

Here we go again. I've been looking back at some rpg entries I used to do, and they're all pretty ridiculous in a funny way. I think my favorite character was Narcissa, who I loved playing the most. I took on rpg as a learning experience, to gain understanding of a character and use my creative energy in a community and all that jazz. But now that I look back, I think I did it mostly for fun. Selfish, a bit, but understandable. RPG is for fun. Of course, I had to learn the hard way that:

Studies come before the game. So does life.
Friends come before the game.
Writing comes before the game.
In an rpg, the point is you DON'T get the spotlight all the time. This isn't an independant thing. It's a dependant thing. When you interact with people and their characters, you bring your own special thing into it and work together. Most of the time.
If it's not fun, then get out.
If you have a problem with someone, the best thing to do is to leave it alone. If it's serious, go to the mod or something, but don't talk about it with someone else unless you trust them. You can't necessarily say it won't go back to the person and create chaos all over. This is the same as real life, too.
Improving is a necessity. Don't take criticism the wrong way. I've had people that do not like it one bit and are stubborn, and I've had people I didn't have the courage to tell them how they could improve, and it may have helped. It may not. People can take advice however they want. The good thing is that you give it - whether they take it or not is their choice.
Be open. RPG's are usually made of a variety of not only characters, but people. I've been blessed to work with a lot of talented and great people, and they're very different from me in many ways. It's good to have that sort of access.

Well, anyway. I am sure there are more, but that's pretty much the basics of keeping your cool and stuff. I guess in a way it was a learning experience, and I may have a lot more to learn, but nevertheless it was always fun.

Having a bad day? That's nice. Want to complain about your life? Go ahead. While you are, thousands of people are starving and dying. People get millions of dollars when they win reality tv, yet the world around us is always saying: give your money to charity. What the fuck, bitch? Quit the damn entertainment and join us, then. Wasting stupidass dollars and giving it to people who already have a roof over their heads and a family, simply because they've won something, caught the eye of someone, ate cockroaches on live television. Fuck you. Give them something else and store that money for someone out there who really needs your help, reality tv makers. Yeah, it's fun, it's exciting, I don't care. What's fun and exciting is to rid poverty. It's at least satisfying.

Now that little rant is over, if you can't donate or walk - sign. Sign today. Sure, you don't think it'll make a difference. But it does, actually.

http://www.live8live.com

All it needs is your name and your location. Make this day extra useful. Thanks. That's all.

FIVE RANDOM THOUGHTS previously known as TEN RANDOM THOUGHTS before the author/LJer of this realized, not really.


Insomnia is interesting, if not altogether frustrating - the morning is a beautiful thing. I don't know if any of you have ever experienced this but I am sure you have; when you lie awake in darkness and then you see the light come through the windows and the sky is this amazing shade of blue, it's good to be alive to see this, and somehow you figure sleep is a waste of time (which is not true, but something I did personally believe back then, with my argument: Imagine all the things you can do when you are not sleeping, working on something constructive instead of resting! Of course, the obvious opposing argument would be: Imagine the things you can do when your mind and body are both recharged and ready to face the day)

This year's summer movies suck - Aside from Cinderella Man which I am sure is a wonderful movie, but have not seen yet (even THAT is going down the drain because the theatre is willing to pay you back your money if you don't think it's good, and honest people who liked the movie will probably not want a refund), I cannot find one movie suitable to waste six dollars or two hours of my time on. The years have passed by where me and my friends learn to get the perfect movie, and this year it was going to be the Sisterhood of Traveling Pants. Alas, with all our regents and final exams, and report cards, we could not go and had to choose another movie. This another movie was going to be between two choices: Bewitched and Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Of course, being the major critic fan that I am, I listened to the reports, and though Oprah called it "A delight!" and I love Oprah, the major critic said "Thumbs-kind-of-down-halfway-up"ish, and I knew in my heart as much as I loved Will and Nichole, it was pointless. Elizabeth Montgomery is absolutely beautiful and talented, but even Bewitched the tv show I.E. the "I am your wife and I'll do anything, absolutely my hardest to make YOU, my husband, happy. Don't worry about my own happiness, silly. I'll give up my magic." Right. What would you rather have? The ability to have everything on your plate with just a twitch of your nose, or a husband that while is kind, is not simply interesting enough? I'd rather live on my own and embrace it. If someone's going to love me, they're going to have to accept it and they should be more interesting.

Back on the point: Mr. and Mrs. Smith was not showing in our local theater, sadly, but we've decided on War of the Worlds, and even I am not excited about that. It should be somewhat enjoyable, but most of the point watching the movie is really WANTING to see it, not just sitting down on your ass, eating popcorn and spending your life on a screen when you could be doing other things. I am hoping War of the Worlds will surprise me, pleasantly, but I have my doubts.

Tennis with Venus and Maria - At least, I think it was Venus. It was one of my first times really getting into a tennis match, and I couldn't help but notice the sheer intensity of every move they gave, which each yell they shot the ball through the year. They give their heart and soul into this, hoping to win, and it must be one of the most exhilarating experiences out there, giving your all into a game. All the focus and concentration into just one game, can it be mistaken for passion? Do they have as much passion for it as much as they have the talent? It seems so. Do they love it? I am not sure. I think when it pays off, it's grand. I think they love how it makes them feel, how it gives them a release and gives them a goal. But do they enjoy it? I am sure they do, but in different ways from the beginning. Right now, they're working harder than ever before, and while work is not always connected to personal gratification, it all works out in the end.

Friends and Moving away - How on earth do you tell a friend how you feel? It's strange how while I can start a great letter to my friend about all those years we've known each other, I cannot continue it, because I feel like I got too sappy. Before a friend moves away, how do you tell her, not in just words but in actions - thank you? Thank you, I love you, I care, I hope we'll always keep in touch. Most friendships don't go that way, and it's pretty cool I still call my old friends from middle school to this day, but does that mean it's going to last? No. It doesn't mean anything except what happens and what you choose. I don't want the last time I see her before she moves be the actual last time I ever see her. But before she goes, just in case, I want to let her know. I don't know what to do about that, and while I can burst with emotion when talking about other people, really telling someone DIRECTLY to their face, with your own voice .. it gets to me. She doesn't even like emotions, and she's the type to shunt away anything that gets too sentimental, because she's embarrassed about it, I suspect, but I am entirely the opposite. I always want to tell someone how I feel about them, because they have to know. They have to know, because I'd want to know if it was me. I really would.

Summer Jobs and Future Jobs to get me by - I've thought about this before, but I've never acted on it. Granted, I am a teenager, but at this age everyone else is getting jobs and going places. I am hoping we are going to travel but I feel very stuck at the moment. I am not what you would call the social princess - I am extremely shy and have been known to be "mute" at times. It's not because I am stuck-up or have something against people, but because I don't know what to say to people I am not comfortable with and know very well. It's a bad habit of mine, and I know there are some that would ask, "Why not? It's so easy. Go up to a person and talk to them! Make conversation". There are some rare moments where I have done this and have gained perspective and a new friend, but there are other times I am frightened to death to say a word. My insecurities have lessened, but my bravery seems to want to go only so far these times. I am more independent, but I am more lonely as ever, as well. My mother said it to me, too: How can you get a job when you can't even stand people? Of course I can stand people. I just can't stand to look them in the eye. I am not a lying little bitch, I am just very awkward. I am hoping this is a phase, but I know this awkwardness must be a protection of some kind. Before, as a child I was always very free and unembarrassed. When you're a child, you are not easily embarrassed and do whatever you want because you don't have a concept of everything that is right or wrong. Children are most truthful at this point, but I think it goes deeper, back in the days from the day I was teased to the days where I put a shell around me and never let myself out. It's so difficult to make that many friends when you have that sort of limitation on you. I want to be able to say the right things and impress, but at the same time be myself. Sometimes it's an oxymoron, and sometimes it isn't. I do know this, though - I do better when I am with people I feel comfortable with. When I don't, I babble and try whatever I can to get attention, and it's a horrible reflex I know, and I regret it afterwards. But when I am comfortable, I can be whoever I want. I am me. Always. It's weird. It's frustrating. It's lonely. It's sad. I want to get a job and have the courage enough to talk to people so I can get paid and support myself. I don't want my sister or my parents to be supporting me when I am old. I am going to support my own dream, and it'd feel horrible if someone else was doing it for me, even if it's easier.

I know I am supposed to be having a sentimental moment after a sentimental post..


BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!! HDCOMIC IS FUCKING BACK.

HELLLLLLLL YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE??!?!?!??!OH HONESTLY. IT'S LIKE HAVING A LIFE SUPPLY OF PEPPRIDGE FARM RASBERRY COOKIES -- EVEN IF YOUR LIFE SUCKS, NOTHING ELSE MATTERS BUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've lost a few things in my life, but most of them has never been to death. There are a lot of people out there who count their losses bigger than mine, and I would have to agree with them. But just because a loss is bigger doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when it's not as large. I found out very recently, maybe a few months ago or so, that change happens and I am supposed to accept it, and when I do, things get better and you learn to make the best of it. Mostly what I've lost are people. They didn't die, or get sick, and some did move away, but most drifted away from me. They moved on to their lives and I moved onto mine, they started to meet new people and have new best friends, things like that. I can't say I haven't overreacted when that has happened to me, but I can say that I have moved on, and today was the first day it fully really, hit me. That I will probably never be as close to these people ever again. That the people I loved so much long ago are actually not the same people anymore, and I am not the same either, and that we're not the same together. Some things never change, but most do, and that, I guess, is the point. At first I was very sad, I'll admit that. It broke my heart when I finally understood this, but now I think I am going to be okay. Because we've had our good times, and even though those good times can't go on, there will be other good times, I am sure. You've just got to believe in that, if nothing else.

It's a rainy, rainy day outside. Woke up 7;30 in the morning to get on the bus for Regents. It was like a surreal experience. This whole week of studying for this one two-part, difficult test, every single day with notes and reading until I fell asleep, and finally there it was. Finally did it. It didn't feel satisfying, but it was a closure. And now I have five whole days for my own enjoyment. Went to the library, too, and picked up some E. Nesbit books. It's strange that I find some better books in the children's section than in the young adult downstairs. There's something very sweet and magical perserved in a children's book, that makes it both easy and lovely to read at the same time. All in all, it was a nice day.

Renee is one of my favorite people in the world right now. On the rerun of Oprah, she just said it all without planning it. It puts a new perspective on media and the propaganda. It's pretty true, anything about celebrities sells, "anything is marketable". You'd have to watch it to really get it. It's very real, and while I've wished a lot of times I were famous in my life, I know I'd wish for something else if I were. Living a life that's simply for other people, I have lived a lot of times. It's tiring. It's exhausting. And the worst part of all: I don't even like it.

Today, I made my first grown-up decision. Or young-adult. Kind of. It felt good, because it wasn't necessarily the right or wrong thing to do, but what I felt about it and wanted. And it's cool to make those sort of decisions, because you feel better about it afterwards and not obligated. Definitely getting into this child-no-more thing. :D

It's also Father's Day, and around ten o'clock while Dad was watching the news, I simply said 'Daddy?" He gave sort of a grunt of acknowledgement, and I leaned over and said, "Happy Father's Day, Daddy" and kissed him. He smiled and kissed me back on the cheek, saying "Thank you." I think he's more glad and surprised that I said that anything else pleasant I've ever done. The fact that you remember counts a lot, I've learned. My sister got him a present and all, and she claimed I didn't care enough about Dad to get or make him one, which led to one of the hugest fights we've had in a week, but was pretty miniscule compared to all other fights we've had, this one was like a cheery eposoide. Scary, huh? Dysfunctional families are like that. Except I suspect me and my sister are what makes them dysfunctional. It's our job now that Dad and Mom are getting old and weary to do put in the effort to be insane. :)

Now, tell! What did you give your Dad for F-Day (uh..that sounds a bit wrong, doesn't it?) Dad-Day, let's call it, and tell me one thing you love about your dad.

I'll start:

He buys me things.

Er. And, a more sentimental one to balance that greedy, spoiled one: he's funny. in a strange, cute kind of way. i suspect that's where i got some of my humour. *fans self*

I am thinking of changing my f-list around a bit, and in doing so, might cut some people. I like and respect you all and have enjoyed your posts in my friend's list, but I realize now that I miss having a personal friends list, with people I know fairly well and talk to more than once on IM. If you'd like to stay on, please do tell me! If you'd like to get off, please do tell me that as well. I don't split down what I keep and what I don't into two categories. I like to keep people whose posts I feel I don't want to miss, too. It varies a lot, so I'd appreciate if you comment and let me know, anyway:)