name: amber
age: 22
location: new orleans
aim: sapgirly mail work
November 26, 2001
I'm back. Happy Thanksgiving and whatnot. Whatnot. I had minimal turkey and lots of enchiladas. My aunt makes these really yummy things. It rained at Magic Mountain and on Riddler's Revenge, it felt like little daggers going into my face. Theme parks amaze me...so many different parts that come together.
Joe and James, James and Joe. It's so strange how things come around...well...you know, whatever. Not really. A tiny bit. I don't know why James is talking to me now or anything. Maybe it's a lack of someone else to talk to. I hardly ever speak with Joe anymore. Amber - Joe = James. I suppose. This is getting so boring.
I'm sorry I haven't been around. I know no one cares except for my two readers if they're even still there. I just love to bitch. Don't worry about me. I have so many reasons to be happy but I'm just...I guess I'm in a funk or something. Here's a list of possible diseases/disorders (that I may or may not have):
Diabetes Type I
Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
Walking Pneumonia
Fibromyalgia
Bi-Polar Disorder
Mono
Senioritis
My Dad said to see the doctor. My mom said to get over it. I said "I'm not going to school today" and my stepfather called me in. Life would be great. I love taking days off but I just feel so crappy. I'm not even sick. But let me tell you my symptoms:
Fatigue (even though I sleep all the time)
Sensitivity to sound and light
persistent cough
tenderness (everywhere)
and I feel really depressed and dumpy
So what do you think? What do I have? Eh, probably nothing.
So in other news, I got back that big Hamlet essay I was worried about and I got a big fat A on it! Yay me. I guess that about cancels out the C I got on the Hamlettest, so B all-around but that's okay cuz I really liked the essay. I'll put it in cheat eventually. I'm lazy right now. I just finished the majority of my applications. Only Wake Forest left because I have to write specialized essays for them that I don't feel like doing right now. They want to know what my academic passion is. I'll have to figure it out before I can write about it.
Going to Aunt Sarah's tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Yay. And Magic Mountain. Maybe I can regain some of my childhood happiness. Ha.
I'm 16% raver. (I think that's a bit over--I've never even been to a rave.)
I'm 25% emo. (A full quarter? Okay...I own the glasses...but I don't wear them.)
I'm a full 38% grunge. (Wow, now I guess I've found my true calling.)
I'm 31% metal-head. (Completely over-represented in this category.)
I'm 32% addicted to the internet. (As long as I'm more of a net junkie than a metal-head, it's all good.)
I have to write this huge essay for Paradise Lost. I didn't really like PL. I know I was supposed to. It's a classic, you know? But it wasn't that great. First of all, Milton went overboard with the confusing wording bit. Vanek loves it. He loves picking apart the little stupid meanings and busting out his OED and whatnot but it's not that great, really, when you can't understand a thing that's going on. It's a good thing I'm not going to be an English major.
And I own psychology. It's not that I'm good at it or that I study or anything. I have a 97% percent but that's just a result of the fact that the class is taught for 5th graders. No, I own that class because Gorski is my bitch. And it's because I can write. He's used to people that can't. I'm not talking about poetry or anything. I'm talking about being able to punctuate my papers correctly and develop a thesis. He's so frustrated with the homework essays that he told us to quit writing them. Damn, I wish I had that class 6th period because then I would just drop it at the semester. God, that would be nice. It's such a waste of my time sleeping through that class. At least he showed the Breakfast Club the other day.
I haven't been blogging. So shoot me. I've had a lot of work. Yesterday, I finished all my work at seven and I didn't know what to do so I watched a movie. It was bizarre. I finished Paradise Lost. It's supposed to be the most important epic ever written, ...you know, but it's pretty hard to understand and it's not that cool. Vanek loves it but it's not that cool. What I realize, though, is that I'm being boring. So I think I'll talk about something more interesting and racier, yes?
So, I might be a lesbian. Maybe not, but maybe. I keep thinking about this girl in my Y&G group and whether or not she was coming on to me cuz I can't tell. At first, I was like...wtf, you know? Then, I thought...well, what would I say if she asked me out or something? Now I'm thinking ...what would it be like to fuck her? So I might be gay. Who knows. And I also keep thinking about that night I shared with Matt. I cannot get it out of my fucking mind. Not that I even want to think about it, cuz I don't. It's just that I can't stop. It's kind of gross, too, cuz it'll pop into my head at really inopportune times, like when I'm hanging out with my mom, I'll get the image of his face in my crotch. I really really can't stand him and I wish he would go away. Right now. Today. This second. I don't ever want to see him again for the rest of my life. Ever. Eugh. He said he was going to drop and he better. Tomorrow's the last day. He had better get on it. Damn.
Even though I have no evidence that there's any more than two people reading this, I still hate to not have updated in 6 days. 7 days. If I don't today, it won't happen until Tuesday, if then. So I am. This weekend, I'm going to Bob I, which is the first conference in my program Youth & Government. I just love Y&G. I can't even tell you why, exactly. Nor could I, exactly, tell my personal statement why before I sent it off to Tulane to be perused by the admissions team. But whatever. I better get in there or I'm going to be one annoyed cookie. In any case, our first conference is this weekend. We're staying at an army base and, apparently, we have to carry ID with us at all times and our bags will all be searched. Why they think a bunch of teenagers give a fuck about their army base now is beyond me. For one, it would take a fuck of a lot of explosive to blow up anything. Army bases go out, not up, and, furthermore, we never see any of the camouflaged men running around because they're all off-duty. But just in case, all our bags are being searched. Such is the way of life, I suppose.
And the other day, I wrote this:
That's the differences between what people really are and our perception of them. so in the same way you never notice when someone likes you, it's stupid to think that they're going to act differently when you like them. Like...if you use someone in your fantasy, you're embarrassed to be around him the next day but he has no idea. In fact, you're acting weird. Such is human nature.
And I meant to mention this dream I had. Last night. It was wonderful. I haven't had as good a dream in ... in years, really. I remember the last time I had such a great dream. Loner came and kissed my hand and though it would have been hugely unimportant had it happened in real life, it made me feel so good. That was just like this dream I had last night. I was leaving home. I wasn't going off to college or getting married or anything. I was just leaving. I was taking my brother and David Hutchinson. I don't have any clue why David was coming with us, he just was. It wasn't sexual or intimate or anything. He was just going to live with my bro and me. So the whole dream, I was packing up my room. I took all these suitcases and filled them with all my stuff. I took our computer and my clothes and my CDs and books. The whole time, my mother was bitching at me about my school work and everything I'd "worked for" and begging me not to go. But I told her that this is what I wanted to do. I lived on the east coast, but I was flying to California to live there. I kept telling the people asking me not to go that that's where "all my friends are." It doesn't sound like a good dream, but I felt wonderful, emancipated, free. Ahh, it was so great. I just wanted to dream it all day long. I really can't wait to go to sleep tonight in hopes that I'll be able to continue the dream out to California. David and I were going to get part-time jobs (my bro too) and finish high school. I don't know what we had planned after that. God, it sounded great. It sounded like an adventure. Like something I would love to do. Just leave leave leave here and go do something totally unexpected, totally unpredictable, exciting, adventurous. Wonderful.
Today is our homecoming. There should be something to say about the fact that one nerd and one "alternative" kid are up for king. It would be cool if one of them wins. I was explaining to Phil, however, why my excitement over Rayhan (the nerd) being elected has been diminished. Because, goddamnit, he campaigned. He handed out nerds at school and has been saying "nerd's the word" for weeks. It's not that he doesn't deserve it. I can't think of anyone that deserves it more, but now he wants it. Though, of course, it would be better for him to win than anyone else, it's still crappy that he's campaigning and I'll tell you why. If he wins and does not campaign, it is a win for all non-conformists (by non-conformist right here I mean people that choose not to buy into the system). If he wins--every non-believer wins. We all gain because the popular people are losing. However, if he campaigns he's not saying "I'm not one of you and I can win anyway!" He's saying "I'm not one of you, but I would like to be. Please vote for me so that I can join this group." If he campaigns, he's one of them.
And to prove my point about the stupidity of popularity (and teenage girls): I have heard that chicks are asking about him. Does he have a girlfriend? Do you think he's a good kisser? Would he go to the Winter with me? This is Rayhan. There's some at every school. He's not cool. He's not cute. He is smart, but they don't care. Classic, beautiful example of people being as shallow as humanly possible. Let's all date Rayhan now because he's in the top 5. That's the most pathetic thing I can think of. Let's all sell our souls to the popular, yes? Knife them!
