I apologize for not having kept up with my blog at all lately. It’s terrible, I know. I think it’s been over a month.. I’m seriously going to make an effort to post every couple days or so. Really this time. The bad thing about not posting regularly (rather, one of many bad things) is that a lot can change in the course of a month or so. Even a week at times. For example, looking back on my most recent post before this one. Wow. That’s all I can say. I’d prefer not to comment on the whole “love” thing, or bring it up at all. (Too late?)

I’ll just clear the air.(:

I’m not in love. Was I? Maybe. Part of me thinks it was infatuation. The other part of me hates that part for thinking such a thing. Whatever you want to call it, it’s over with now. And oddly, I’m fine with that. It wasn’t my decision, but believe it or not, in the end, I think it was a good one. I never thought I would say that. Trust me, it took a while to get to the stage of being all right with it. For about a week, or at least several days, I was a miserable. I really didn’t want to leave my room. So I didn’t, for the most part. I had the hardest time going places, since absolutely everything triggered a memory. Lots of memories can be created in a few short months, which makes for constant reminders.

The worst part is, we never even met.

It took time, hope, and help from close friends (and lots of Kleenex), but over time, I healed. It still hurts me a little whenever I think about it, but I can bear it. I can finally say I’m happy. There is one thing that keeps my mind off it, and I’m sure lots of people would agree that this is a guaranteed way to cope with loss: staying busy. Although I can say I am “over it”, I still need to keep myself occupied. About a week ago, I went on a huge cleaning frenzy, and decided to clean out my entire room (including my closet..you have no idea how brave that was) and get rid of everything I didn’t need. It may seem crazy, but it kept my mind off of things. Along with that, I’ve been spending time away from home and at my best friend’s house. It’s funny, this whole needing-to-stay-busy thing didn’t entirely begin when my relationship ended. It began shortly after, when I got past the depression stage.

As I’ve said before, I live in the country. Way out in the middle of nowhere. Really out there. No town for miles, no people for about a mile and a half. I don’t have any siblings that live with me (my sister is 30, married and lives about a half hour away from here), so I’ve been used to spending a lot of time on my own my whole life. However, just recently, it’s been getting to me. The loneliness, I mean. Sometimes I can’t help but just want someone. Someone to cure the loneliness, and someone I can spend nearly every day with. Then again, doesn’t everyone want that?

It’s odd, I used to love everything about living in the country. The tranquility, the freedom, the beauty. And don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wouldn’t want anything different. There are certain things that city life doesn’t offer. Little things I take for granted sometimes. Camping out on starry summer nights, watching the sun set, hearing the sounds of nature, and fireworks on the 4th of July, to name a few. But after a while, it gets..tiresome, for lack of a better word. I feel like there’s a whole world out there I’m missing out on.

I guess I really realized it when I visited Chicago a couple months ago, a city a few hours away which I’ve always adored. I usually go there at least once a year, sometimes more. But this time, it really hit me. Almost overwhelmed me, in fact. All the people. The hotel we stayed in was right downtown, and I loved the feeling of walking out onto the street and seeing people from all walks of life right before my eyes. And the people were different. They were friendly and outgoing, and would smile when you walked by. I’ll admit that this may have been because of my looks..I’m modest, but I’ll admit that I’m attractive. Nevertheless, everything, and everyone, seemed so different from what I am used to. It was definite culture shock, even though I’d been several times before. And I absolutely loved it. The feeling of being anonymous; being in a place where no one knows anything about you. Where you can be anything you want to be. I know there are pros and cons to city life, but I can’t wait to be out on my own and have the freedom to travel the world and go wherever I want to go.

See, I’ve mentioned before: in my high school, everyone knows everything about everyone. Period. I know everyone by name, first and last. If someone new comes, they’re labeled as “The New Kid“. I want to go to a school where  you could walk by “The New Kid” and not think anything of it, because you would have no idea. I want to go to a school where I don’t know even half of the people in my class. I was just having this discussion with my best friend. We are both sick of our school, to be honest. There’s always drama going on, and it’s the same old drama from last week, with the same damn people. It really never does change, and it won’t.

My friend and I (the one I’ve mentioned twice previously in this entry) would do just about anything to get away from here. She lives in the small town closest to my house, but it’s still far from a city of any kind. We’re already planning a big road trip for the next summer, or earlier during the school year if we can manage it (depending on what our parents think, since it’ll just be us two). And during a breakdown I had a few weeks ago over wanting to move, I convinced my mom to take the two of us to Chicago next month for a couple days. I know it will be hard to leave. My mother (whom I talk to about pretty much everything) said she went through the same thing I’m going through, and not to feel alone in it all. She also suggested that a) I am PMSing, which is false. However, I don’t blame her for suggesting it..I was a mess. And b) it is just a phase that will eventually pass, also false. This isn’t going to go away, despite what she says.

I know it all sounds a bit melodramatic and desperate, but it’s the loneliness that makes me this way. The urge to be in big crowds and meet new people and go to parties and have a good time. Around here, it’s all the same people, the same events. No excitement. Or at least not much. Barely enough to get me out of bed in the morning. I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

Okay, I’ll admit I can take it, but still. It’s not something I can simply put aside in my mind. I cannot wait to get away from here, if only for just a while.

Until then, what do I do? I stay busy. I remain happy, despite the uninspiring atmosphere. It’s all I can do, really.

I’m not normally a complainer, and I know I shouldn’t overuse the word “want”, but I can’t help it. I want this. Let’s face it, I’m a teenage girl. All of us are going to want things. And actually, I’ve always been pretty content with life, and not the kind of person who is always wanting what they can’t have. But this is wholehearted. Unshakable. Unwavering.

Want is a powerful thing. I realize that now.

I want to go somewhere different. Be somewhere different.

I want change.

Oh, wow.

So I’m going to pretend that it hasn’t been two months and ten days since my last blog post. To be honest, I’m not sure why it’s been so long. I guess it’s a number of things put together, really. See, if I haven’t mentioned this before, I’m a huge procrastinator. Here’s a little taste of what goes on in my mind on a daily basis:

*remembers that one thing I need to do (post a new blog, in this case)*

Oh. Hmm. Well, it’s not absolutely necessary to do it now. I’ll wait just a few minutes.

*a few minutes pass..then hours.*

Okay, okay. Really, this time. Before I go to bed tonight, it must be done.

*gets distracted; falls asleep*

And the whole thing just repeats itself. I never learn. Before I know it, it’s the sixteenth of June. Gosh. It’s not that I don’t enjoy blogging; I love sitting down at my computer and sending my thoughts anonymously into the blogosphere..into the world. Sometimes I just don’t know how or where to start. I’m so overwhelmed by it all that I feel there is just too much to say. And the fact that I’ve been putting it off doesn’t help, of course. I think to myself “Hey, I’m gonna post a blog updating them on that…oh wait, I never told them about that in the first place.” Something made me do it this time, however. Or rather, someone.

I’ve noticed that in my past blogs, I’ve been fairly…oh, what’s the word…specific about things. I tell you how it is I’m feeling about things, and you know exactly what I’m talking about, for the most part. But have you read those blogs where it’s someone’s thoughts thrown out there in a nonspecific, haphazard way? The ones where you’re left wondering what they were talking about? The authors are not necessarily posting the blogs to inform anyone. They aren’t telling you what they think about this trend, or that TV show. They aren’t telling you how they spent the holidays, or where they’re going on vacation. No. They often reveal deeper feelings. Not everyone reading may understand what they are trying to say. In fact, very few will, if any. Now, bare with me. I’m going to start using the word you.

This is how I feel, and I’m finished hiding it.

It’s been 40 hours since we last spoke, give or take an hour. Yes, I’ve been counting.

Between waiting for your letter and waiting for you to call, the suspense is nearly unbearable. I know you’re probably feeling the same way, but I need some kind of proof that you haven’t vanished off the face of the earth. Something.

I feel like I might explode.

“Let me year your voice for a few minutes”, you’d said. “I don’t think I can go to sleep if I don’t hear it.” 41 minutes, it turned out to be. I wish it hadn’t ended. Your voice is beautiful. You are beautiful. I hope I hear from you tonight. I can hardly take it anymore. I have to know that everything is all right. That things are where we left them. That you still love me. Though I know you cannot love me as much as I love you. You tell me otherwise, but I know better. You occupy my every thought. I can’t help but wonder how often you think of me. There aren’t enough words in this blasted language to describe my feelings for you. My heart is on fire, and you lit the match. If it ever goes out, I will surely be nothing. I cannot imagine life without you. It hurts me to think where I would be now if it were not for you. I know I sound crazy. I wish there were a better way to say all these things; I never have had a way with words when it comes to love. You, however, do it perfectly. You put me to shame.

As you’ve said to me before, you will be the death of me.

This is how I feel, and I’m finished hiding it.

I am in love with you.

Today was an exceptional day.

There was something that happened to me this morning that gave me inspiration for this blog entry.

There I was, sitting in first hour before class started. The usual, socializing with my friends and also getting lots of compliments on my outfit (which I wouldn’t really call usual. I believe I mentioned in a previous entry the shopping spree I just went on?) when one of my best friends walks in wearing the exact same dress we later discovered we bought the exact same day. She gasped in disbelief (and horror, maybe) upon realizing this and just stood there wide-eyed. As for me, well, I just laughed. It’s cute and all in middle school, but let’s face it–we’re grown up and now it’s somewhat irksome. I assure you, there was no forethought in this whatsoever, though we were asked that multiple times throughout the day. I hadn’t talked to this girl all weekend long, in fact.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Why are you telling me this? Things like that happen all the time. But you know what’s interesting? Last night I was lying in bed, pondering life as usual and planning what I’d talk about for my next blog entry. I almost got out of bed, went to my computer, and typed it all right then and there. You know how you get an idea in your head and you feel like you have to write it down or have it in some tangible form so you won’t forget? Yeah, I had it all figured out. But it was late, and instead I decided it was in my best interest to get some sleep, knowing I could type for an hour or more. Wanna know what I was going to discuss?

Coincidences.

That’s right. It’s a coincidence that I experienced a coincidence after deciding to devote an entire entry to coincidences. I was doing some serious thinking last night on that subject too. I’m rather fascinated by serendipitous things, and it’s just recently that I’ve been paying lots of attention to them. I can think of tons of instances. I always seem to look at a clock at 7:33 (the exact time of my birth), 10:27 and 1:13. The first and only time I’ve ever been on an airplane was just days before the 9/11 attacks. Of all the days in the entire year, my grandmother died unexpectedly on my twelfth birthday, which turned out to be the worst day of my life so far. Two nights ago while lying in bed and facing my wall with my phone on my other side and on vibrate (I’m an avid texter), I happened to roll over and look at it the precise second I received a text after 35 minutes of getting no messages at all. On my way home from school one day last week, one of my friends and I simultaneously began singing the song Hot In Here, starting in different places but with no vindication. That was pretty scary. You’ve probably noticed by now that I’m the type of person who remembers basically everything. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with any more random occurrences. Just trying to get my point across.

When you seriously think about it, what are the odds of things like this happening? It blows my mind every time I think about it. Even nugatory things, like going to the mall or out to eat and seeing someone I know. What are the odds that they would be there, of all places, at the exact time and place you happen to be? Slim, I’d think. Real slim.

Just something for you to think about.

Maybe I’m crazy, or think about things too much.

Probably a bit of both. (:

Well, I was hoping this entry would be longer and more elaborate, but I’m short on words for once. Guess I should’ve posted last night, durnit. My mind is always much more dynamic at nighttime. (: I’m slightly worn out, this being the first day of the school week. As always, I hope you enjoyed it, and comments are most welcome. I’d love to hear about insanely wacky or troubling fortuities you feel like sharing, or any other reflections you’ve got for me, of course. I may or may not post later this evening. I’m working on a poem and might like to share it with you. (: If not tonight, there’s always tomorrow.

(Three smiley faces in a row…dangerous. You can tell I’m in quite a good mood.)

Me again. Twice in one day–oops. But I figured I’d reward myself for doing the laundry I’ve been putting off all day long, being the major procrastinator that I am And the whole blogging really makes me happy. So here we go. Blog entry number three.

As I was sitting here at my computer desk drinking my afternoon coffee (yummm), I got to thinking. Dangerous pursuit, I know. I happened to be flipping through an old issue of Self magazine. Now, I’m going to stop right there, and make a few things perfectly clear for you:

a) I don’t have any idea where this magazine came from, or why it is in my possession.

b) The Funnest Sex You’ll Ever Have in great big letters on the front cover should have been a candid warning not to open it. (Funnest, really? Can I get a definition?)

c) I’m a teenage girl whose life isn’t quite exciting enough for ‘thing b’ to matter. I’m perfectly aware that periodicals like these can be misleading wastes of time, but I couldn’t help myself.

With that said, let’s get back to my story. As I was looking through the magazine, I realized, first of all, how many of its pages were nothing but advertisements. 44 pages, to be exact (yes, I counted). Does hearing this tell you anything about the society we live in? Maybe it’s the Starbucks talking, but I think that’s pretty insane. Are we buying these magazines merely to find out about the latest and greatest mascara that vibrates (I laughed out loud at this), or tried and tested weight loss pill? I’m not saying there isn’t any useful information tucked in there. However, to me it seems like we’re becoming a little (erm, a lot?) too concerned with our looks and dependent on beauty products and whatnot. Sure, it’s nice to look decent. I wear makeup occasionally, though I can’t say I own a tube of vibrating mascara. But everywhere I look, whether it’s on television or in a magazine, it’s looks, looks, and oh…more looks.  It’s certainly not just the publishers of Self magazine who are to blame. No, it’s all of us really. We live in a world that is quick to judge based on one’s appearance.

While I’m on this topic, I just have to bring something. Have any of you seen the show…uhh, Toddlers & Tiaras, maybe? I forget the exact name, but that’s the gist of it. Okay, now do any of you, by chance, think it’s as freaking ridiculous as I do? In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s basically a show about young girls (I’m talking young) who compete in a number of beauty pageants. Now, if you’re a fan, I’m sorry. I’m not trying criticize all beauty pageants, just these particular ones. If your four year old daughter was on the show (I’m kidding, I know my blog doesn’t get that kind of attention) or participates in beauty pageants like the ones on the show, you might as well stop reading now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m not even sure what kind of audience the program is geared towards–I just came across it on the guide a few months ago (I’m not even sure if it’s still on) and wondered what in the world it was. Are people even supposed to take it seriously? Or is everyone sitting back and shaking their head like I am? These girls are five and six years old, sometimes younger, and they are taught to go on stage in front of all these people and a judge and do a dance routine or whatever and, above all, look pretty. They give them fake teeth and hair, cover them in makeup, and dress them up in things my mother would smack me if I stepped out of the house in. If they don’t win the competition, they cry and throw a fit. Sometimes, the moms even get upset with them. They let their daughters boss them around like it’s nobody’s business, and let me tell you, that’s who they get their attitude from. I only watched it once out of curiosity, and found myself wanting to demolish my television multiple times. It frustrates the heck out of me, seeing what happens to people who care about nothing more than appearance, and furthermore passing that on to little girls who will grow up that way. I really wish someone would teach them a good lesson or two about diffidence and respect.

Whew. Let’s lighten the mood a bit, shall we?

Another thing I started thinking about was what makes someone beautiful. What is beauty, exactly? I’ve talked about this with my best friend before. I know most people tend to think of a “pretty” girl as tan, skinny and big-chested (for lack of a better word?) with perfect teeth like we see in all the magazines and on television, but why? I mean, who ever decided that was beautiful? Do you ever think about how that got started, and why it stuck? I do. Personally, I believe beauty comes in all shapes, sizes and colors, but sometimes I feel like I’m speaking on behalf of the minority.

Have you ever noticed that two people can look at someone, and one can think she’s beautiful while the other thinks she’s hideous? (or he, it could be a guy.) Take Megan Fox, for example. Yes, I went there. I think she is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, but I have friends who don’t find her attractive at all (to which I reply, “Get your eyes checked, will you?”). So, I guess there are just different aspects that appeal to different people, even if we can’t always pinpoint them. My friends have pointed out guys (and gals) to me that they thought were attractive, and I thought the exact opposite, but couldn’t figure out what it was about them that didn’t appeal to me. It all depends on who you are and what you find attractive.

On that note, over a thousand words later, I think I’m all blogged out for the day. Thanks for listening, and I’d love to hear your take on this. (:

Good morn..erm, afternooon, bloggers. *yawn* This is my second entry, and I’m already, as I expected, hooked. I hope everyone had a lovely Easter. Mine was pretty relaxing and uneventful. Sure feels good to sleep in; enjoy it while it lasts. Man, I’m counting down the days to summer already.

Monday morning, last day of “spring break”. I put that in quotes because I don’t believe it deserves such a name, considering the fact that we only had four and a half days off, and that’s including the weekend. But hey, it’s a break, I’ll take it. We’re already going to school until the very beginning of June (compared to the normal May 20th-ish) because of all the snow days we used, and I truly would rather have no break at all than go that late. Hmph. But have you ever noticed how it’s always more fun going back to school when you’ve just gotten a bunch of new clothes? (I’m saying this to the girls–or guys maybe too, I suppose) I went shopping Saturday and spent about $400 (I’m not even close to being rich, I promise..it’s money from my grandparents) on new spring and summer dresses, long-enough shorts and whatnot. Which reminds me.

See, our school has this rather ridiculous dress policy. Even my mother thinks it’s absurd, and she isn’t the most lenient when it comes to appropriate clothing. We do not wear uniforms. But here’s one of the guidelines: if we wear shorts (which lately it’s been warm enough to do), they cannot be any shorter than our middle finger when we stand with out arms down at our sides (took me a while to figure out how to word that…wow, I sure use lots of parentheses). Now hear me out.

Look, I’m completely for the whole concept of not dressing like a you-know-what in public and showing where you shouldn’t be. But give me a break. Last Tuesday when it was about 80 degrees outside, there were at least a dozen girls sent home for “inappropriate attire”. They were wearing normal-length shorts that you’d find in the juniors’ department in any store. Was anything showing? Nope. And get this: there were a couple who were told to change even though their shorts technically were long enough if you follow the dress code. But no. Their teacher thought they were “showing too much skin”. Let me tell you, I know short shorts when I see them–it’s not rocket science. This simply wasn’t the case. The whole thing can be extremely irritating, especially if you’re tall like me, with long legs and long arms.

Oh, holy cow–her legs are showing. Can’t have that. I repeat: Give. Me. A. Break.

Another thing they can get you for is ripped jeans. The handbook says “excessively ripped”, but they don’t really care about that. They just wanna bust you. I seriously think that’s got something to do with it. Maybe it’s ignorant, I’m sorry. But that same Tuesday I mentioned earlier, one of my friends was asked to leave because she had a hole in her jeans about the size of a softball in one of the knees. And she had worn that same pair of jeans to school at least three times before that point. The principal just happens to notice on the day when one-tenth of our school population is busted (they don’t always send you packing, sometimes you’re just told not ever to wear it to school again). I guess he gets some sort of thrill out of it. I dunno.

Oh, and you have to be careful with low-cut shirts too. As I said, I can completely understand that if your chest is showing, or if it’s seriously not appropriate. But it’s kind of ridiculous whenever you can’t wear a normal shirt because there’s a chance they might send you home to change.  And for flat-chested girls like me, guess what? Not much is going to be coming out of the shirt. I said it once, and I’ll say it again. If nothing improper is showing, I just don’t see the logic. Also, shirt straps have to be at least one inch wide. The handbook says that there should not be any undergarments showing, including bra straps. But guess what. Even if nothing is visible, if your straps aren’t at least in inch wide, you’re out of luck. Let me tell you, this makes it pretty difficult to shop for spring and summer.  There’s something else I find interesting. My dad is a school teacher at a junior high not far from our high school. There, the only time you’re in trouble for shorts is if your butt is showing. Other than that, there isn’t a minimum on the length. And no “no ripped jeans” rule there either, by the way. Middle schoolers. Funny, right?

Sometimes it seems to me like it would be hard to focus on getting us teens the best education possible when all they’re worried about is what we’re wearing and whether or not it meets their standards.

On a more positive note, my new dresses are adorable. Let’s hope I won’t get sent home for wearing them.

Well, that’s enough ranting for now. I hope you found some truth in it, were able to relate, or at least got a good laugh or two. (:

Hello, world.

I’m completely new to this whole blogging thing, and to be honest, I’m not sure what to expect.

I recently (about ten minutes ago, in fact) decided that I’d like to get my thoughts out there, and I figured this was the perfect way to do so. I had no idea what website to use, so I simply went to Google and typed in “blog”. This was one of the first results that popped up on my screen, so I figured, hey. We’ll try that. I was immediately sold when I realized  that it uses different greetings like “howdy”, “aloha”, and “shalom” whenever I refresh the page. That’s kind of brilliant.

Anywho, wow. My first blog entry. Well, I have no idea if anyone’s going to read this, and I  guess I really don’t care much. I just like the idea of being able to store my thoughts somewhere other than in my own head. I’ve always been the kind of person who writes everything down, and let me tell you, I have quite the imagination. I think I could easily become somewhat addicted to blogging. But who knows.

I suppose I could tell you a little bit about myself…is that what most people do in their very first blog entry? Hmph. Well, either way, here I go.

I’m a teenage girl; I don’t think it’s necessary for you to know my exact age. Heck, I’m not even sharing my name. (: I am from what I guess you could call a small town, though I live pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Needless to say, I like it in the country, for the most part. I’ve lived here all my life in one house, on what used to be a working farm. It’s peaceful here, and absolutely beautiful, especially in the summer. You can find beauty in nature in any season, but summer has always been my favorite. I attend a small school (yes, I’m in high school) with fewer than 300 students. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everything about everyone, which is good or bad, depending on which “everyone” you are. I’ve always gotten decent grades throughout school, and English is my favorite subject. I love grammar and I love to read. I’m not great at math, I’ll tell you that bluntly. But if they had a separate subject for music, I’d be all over it.

Music is an enormous part of my life. More specifically, piano. I have been playing for about ten years, and I cannot imagine living without it. It allows me to express that which I cannot put into words, which is what music does for all of us. I became fascinated with the piano at a young age, and immediately started taking lessons. From that point on, it has been my addiction.

As for my personality, I’m a generally happy person. I say that sincerely; I’m always trying to find the good in a bad situation. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I can have a temper sometimes, but don’t worry, my outbursts are short-lived. (: I’m friendly (a little too friendly sometimes?) and outgoing around people I’m familiar with. And yes, I would consider myself weird. I have a wide variety of friends, some of them polar opposites. Honestly, some of them don’t like each other at all. I try to avoid any kind of drama if at all possible. I’m a very open-minded person, and I’ve been told I’m easy to talk to about anything. I won’t judge someone based on their past, or anything really, and it really irritates me when people do so. You call it “selective”, I call it “ignorant“. I like to get to know someone before I make up my mind about them one way or another.

As I’ve mentioned, I’m also very imaginative. I think an awful lot about things most people..wouldn’t? I ponder the idea of life on a daily basis. It captivates, perplexes, and irks me all at once. I’m always wondering about the unknown, and about the universe, and whether or not there is a God. All you Christians out there, please don’t admonish me. I’m not saying one way or another whether or not I believe in God. I simply have no idea. I do believe in something greater than myself, that there is something there, or someone if you wish. I’d certainly like to believe there is a God, and a Heaven. I just don’t know everything. One thing I do not believe is that my life will be over once I die.

Well, that went into much further detail than I had intended. I feel like I’m pouring my heart out in this very first entry, and won’t have anything left to say later. =p Nah, I’m sure I can come up with something. I apologize if I bored you to death. But hopefully you now have a vague idea of what I’m like. It’ll take some time (and a lot of blogging) for you to get to really know me. That is, if you want to. For all I know, I could just be talking to myself…

Oh well. Time well spent. (:

It was lovely talking to you again, Self. Until next time.

p.s. I don’t really know if it’s normal for people to comment on blogs and stuff (you can definitely tell I’m new to this), but feel free to do so and ask me anything. Or suggest things for me to blog about. Whatever floats your boat.

p.p.s. …I really have nothing more to say, I just wanted to reach 900 words. ^_^ Success.