Alright, it is simple nights like this that I live for! How corny and sentimental to any other soul this must sound, but I’m sitting in the dark with the candle Nick gave me today (which is also an odd contrast with my happiness because candles and darkness usually mean for me — as they do for most — depressed, lonely nights) and listening to the new (well, not so new anymore) Dave Matthews CD (actually, it’s a tape) and just having an all-around good time. I haven’t listened to this tape since what I shall henceforth refer to as the “dark months,” which is about September through the beginning of November. I’m surprised that I’m not getting bad vibes from it since I did listen to it in that oh-so-dark period, but I think (and let this not be too corny for you) that Dave Matthews is incapable of making me feel sadness. It’s just such happy music. It’s also the anthem band of our school and I think when I move far away from the fiery throes of Virginia, I shall always associate Dave Matthews with the good (that’s relative) ol’ days of high school.
I slept downstairs last night because lately I get terrible insomnia every time I sleep in my room. My first thought as I woke up was, “I don’t want to go to school.” I actually said it outloud, which was actually kind of funny.
But, THEN . . . I remembered it was my birthday, and that motivated me to get out of my bed. Yes, even at the ripe, wonderful age of eighteen, I still get oddly giddy about birthdays. I even dressed in a semi-nice outfit and curled my hair and put on lipstick and just the whole “shebang.” I picked Nick up and he presented me with a wondermous birthday package, filled with all sorts of good things, scandalous and not-so-scandalous. The not-so scandalous things were a delicious candle (ocean-scented, might I add, because he remembered my obsession with the body of water we call the ocean) and matching-flavoured lotion. And then some other, unmentionable things. Hmmm . . . aren’t you curious? He also gave me the cutest little card with redhaired Cherubs on it, which is yet another odd inside-joke with us. I hugged him and thanked him, and then we parted ways for first period.
I was never the person to walk in a room and scream, “Hey, guess what, it’s my birthday,” but somehow today, I could hardly contain myself. I made it to almost the end of first period before announcing it and received “awwwwwwwwws” all around.
Today was the day of the infamous Macbeth presentation dress rehearsal. Last night, Nick stayed over until almost 11 working on it, and we planned a few good things out. Unfortunately, we didn’t have all the various props we needed nor did we have all of our lines memorized, so we got out of Sociology with the intention of practicing in the auditorium.
We ended up in the dressing room, which brought back some fond and not-so-fond feelings. We had both spent a lot of time in the dressing rooms before we defected from the drama department, but alas. We tried to rehearse, but of course got distracted by numerous random things, such as how unnaturally large my breasts looked in the shirt I was wearing and the graffiti on the wall. So, we basically just wasted a whole period, and exited the dressing room, unprepared.
In Creative Writing, we just did writing-type stuff. Though I love that class with the deepest, sweetest threshold of my heart, it just will never be the same as last year. I think Dr. Parrish is distracted with her book stuff (she did, after all, publish a book and I guess I would be distracted with it, too) and . . . I don’t know; it’s just a different class this year. Anyway, it’s still good and fun and I always come out smiling like a dork. My one concern with that class right now, however, is that I have an entire short story due on Friday that I have claimed is written, and isn’t beyond the first page. I have so much pressure to write a good one because Dr. Parrish somehow thinks I’m this fabulous short story writer, and it’s stressin’, let me tell you.
So, last period arrived, and Nick and I both were a little nervous about our presentation. Granted, it was only a pre-dress rehearsal, but our productions are always expected to be shocking and complicated, so there was a lot of pressure on us.
First, however, the GOH (now, as well all know, GOH stands for “Gatekeeper of Hell,” which is in remembrance of how much I detested her last year. This year, however, I adore her and the title doesn’t apply to her anymore, but for purposes only known to the heavens, we shall keep the title) checked to see who had done the rough drafts of their Othello papers.
I was one of many who hadn’t and she rubbed that fact in even further by showing me the grades I had acquired in the past quarter, which were straight A+’s. I felt a little guilt, but then resolved just to write a smashing final draft.
Our presentations were to be given after lunch, so we were able to enjoy our greasy pizza and ever-so-delightful cafeteria fries. Lunch was a bit scandalous because my DG (remember him? I haven’t mentioned him in a while. For any new readers, DG stands for my “demi-God,” though I think that status has dwindled a little. He’s just a boy I have had a small innocent crush on since my freshman year) and this boy who is one of the sweetest people in the world (probably only to me, though) and also reminds me of my brother got in a random fight. DG just screamed a lot and poured Coke all over the place, and my Pseudo-Brother just kinda ignored him. It was funny, yet so very random.
We returned to the classroom and asked if we could fetch our various props from my car. The GOH informed us that we had to go to the office and ask if we could go to the parking lot, which is a ridiculous new policy, but funny nevertheless. So, we travelled up to the office and asked the office secretary — who was either new or a substitute secretary — if we could go to the parking lot. She gave us a blank stare and then disappeared for a while, and then returned, and asked the security guard over the CB radio if we could go.
We could, so I ran out to the car, while Nick retrieved various things from the Prop Room. I was balancing a huge bag of clothes, a lamp, sheets and an expensive goblet in my hands and as I attempted to open the door, the goblet slipped and shattered all over the sidewalk.
Well, shit, but to be expected from me. I called to Nick to help me clean it up and as I was picking up the class, I cut the hell out of my hand.
It began to gush blood, but I refused to go to the nurse because I realized that my bloody hand would come in wondermous use for our Macbeth presentation. We were going to use fake blood, anyway, but we forgot to bring it today and there I was, with genuine blood running down my hand. What a sick thought, but a true actress, right?
We returned to the classroom and Nick was yelling at me to go the nurse because it was a pretty deep cut, but I managed to convince everyone around me that it was fake blood.
For about five minutes, it was a good idea, but then the cut started throbbing in an unnatural way, so again, I exited the classroom.
The clinic was closed, so I had to go back to the office and back to the new office secretary, who had no idea what to do. She got me some band-aids, but then suddenly, this woman in purple beside me spoke up and said she was the county nurse and that she could take care of me.
She was the nicest person I’ve ever met! She chatted incessantly and washed and bandaged my cut and informed me I probably needed a tetanus shot. I love people like her!
I entered the classroom once again, bandaged and well. The presentations were to begin, so Nick and I went to change costumes and such.
Well, the actual presentation itself will be awesome when we actually know our lines and get it together. For neither of us knowing what the hell we were doing, we actually did pretty well. There’s this one part where I have to spill water all over the place and I thought the GOH was going to have a heart attack. Actually, her random comment was, “At least it wasn’t tea.”
What does that mean?
Anyway, it went over well and the actual dress rehearsal is on Friday. We start going around to classrooms in the next couple of weeks.
I put my sweater over my black dress and then drove home.
Though it had been a beautifully cute day, I hit a 10-minute bad mood swing and came into my house telling Nick to shut the hell up. Whoops.
But I got over it.
I was really tired, though, and my parents wanted to take me out to dinner. I felt bad because my dad had taken off work and everything to go to dinner, but we all agreed to reschedule for Thursday. I think we’re going to Chucky Cheese. There’s nostalgia in it — my first “real” birthday party was my fourth birthday, and I had this huge party at Chucky Cheese in Georgia, so my dad thought it would be cute to go there for my eighteenth.
I do so love my parents. I may bitch and complain a lot, but there are no better parents for a girl like me.
My mom had made me this beautiful quilt out of this material which had different cities on it — unpurposelly, all the cities matched something in my life. San Francisco — my birthplace; Seattle — Nick’s birthplace; New York — my future home; and Washington, DC — the home of many adventures for Nick and I. My dad also gave me lovely yellow robe, which is always good for me because I am obsessed with bath stuff and robes.
So, I went back to Nick’s for a while, and after dropping him by work, returned home, ate dinner and promptly fell asleep.
If you want to be practical about it, I won’t be eighteen until 11:17 PM, California time, which is about 2:17 AM over here.
I have a lot of homework to do tonight, and alas, it’s already 10:36 PM! Ohwell, it shall get done because I have slacked so much this past week.
The site needs some revamping, I know. Though I do so love my “out of the ash” graphic, it’s getting a bit tired. I wish my scanner was fixed, damn it!
Well, off to homework. Thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special!
Alright, it’s been a messy couple of days for no other reason than this week feels like the longest, hardest amount of days I’ve ever been through.
And there is a really creepy noise outside that sounds like a mixture between horror-film wind and fighter pilots. Ohwell — I’m drinking a semi-gross Irish Creme frappe that I just made myself, so at least I’ll die on a full stomach.
1999 is annoying me as a year so far. It’s got an eerie feel to it, but perhaps that’s because it’s been pounded in my generation’s head since we were little wee babes that 1999 was the end of the world. Or maybe because it just didn’t have a definite start for me — whatever the case, I feel I have just crawled into the year with same attitude as last year. Of course, I could change that at any moment, but I’m almost afraid to. I’ve got the future plaguing me as we speak — I haven’t applied to the damn college yet (how many people have I told that I was accepted to it already? It just slips out of my mouth, and then I have to continue with the lie not to look stupid). I need to apply. I am so afraid of leaving high school. ME — the girl who has complained and whined about high school since the ninth grade.
I need to quit my worrying and just apply. I plan to send everything in by Monday of next week. I will keep that goal. I will keep that goal. I will keep that goal.
Oh, I don’t know what’s happened in the past few days. Yesterday, I wore what Nick gave me for Christmas — this awesome, knee-length pleated skirt and a wondermous red sweater. Nick was also styling in his new Aramani glasses. We looked smashing together, as usual, though we got the usual jeers from the Dirty Duo of Jason and Scott.
I still hate my Sociology class. It’s either the atmosphere, the people or the classroom, but it irks the hell out of me. I am uncomfortable and irritable the whole time.
Why am I writing this as if I’m in a bad mood? I’m a pretty good mood, actually. Today was cute though I looked sick and randomly sunburned all day. And I was exhausted. And I failed a physics test. BUT it was cute, I swear!
In English, my teacher finally confronted me about not turning in my English paper, which was due a month or so ago. In fact, he gave an entire guilt trip to me in front of the class, which would’ve normally made my oversensitive tear ducts crank up, but somehow I found the whole situation faintly amusing. After lunch, we had a private discussion in which I was told I still have to write the damn paper.
Ohwell.
After school, I decided I needed some decent hosiery, so I drug Nick to the mall and we prowled for good hosiery. I run every pair I get or either my entire foot goes through the bottom of them because I wear open-toed heels and the friction and such rips them up. We first tried Victoria’s Secret where we argued about bras, and finally ended up at Hecht’s where I made my purchase. It’s cute because Nick is such a ShopperBoy and has to go in every single store.
We ate a late lunch, and then returned to our separate homes.
I will get a job. Books-A-Million still looks kind of hopeful. I figure if I check on my application enough, they’ll admire my persistence.
A lot of things coming up. Nick and I have to perform our infamous Macbeth scene for the junior English classes. We’re also auditioning for the talent show, so we have to get that together. What else, what else? Ohyes — exams. I’m going to exempt all, except for MAYBE physics and English. I was perfectly fine in English until I didn’t turn in that damn Albatross of a paper. The failure of my physics test didn’t help my exemption, either.
I would like to know where I’ll be in the next six months. That would be nice.
To use a cliche, I have to get my “ass in gear.” I’m just stalling because I’m afraid.
My birthday is in 5 days. How exciting! I’ll be able to vote and go to clubs. I don’t care much for smoking or porn.
Alright, to bed or to somewhere.
Goodnight!
I’m really not in the mood to update. I’m not in a bad/depressed/ick mood — just not in the mood to update. But, alas, I’m doing it anyway because it crushes me physically to go more than four days without updating.
Nothing has happened, though! On the 2nd, I honestly did nothing. Laundry, house stuff — but, nope, nothing. Sunday, the 3rd, I didn’t do much, either. My latest mission has been to get a job — and this time I am so completely serious about it because there are a lot of things I want to do in the upcoming months that require money I don’t want my parents to give me. Also, I think it would be a horrible idea to go to New York without having any job experience, so off I go. Sunday, I applied about everywhere, and the most promising place was Books-A-Million.
You know, I would really love to work at Books-A-Million, considering I have been wanting a job there for like two or three years now. Plus, when I was walking down the aisles yesterday, I realized that it just felt like home to me in some really odd way. I spent most of the summer before my junior year there, and I guess I feel have some sort of loyalty to the place.
Now they must hire me.
So, I searched for jobs, dropped by Nick’s place of work and whined to him about it, and then went home, dejectedly. Nick came over a little while later and we went out to eat at a creepy steakhouse which was full of creepy Jennifer Jason Leigh look-alikes and alluring boys. After a bout with barbequed chicken and salads, we parted ways, only to prepare for another venture into yet another week of school.
I wasn’t ready to go back. I needed at least another week. — damn, you know what? I’m doing 467059 things online right now, and I’m never going to get this done. So — tomorrow.
Okay, so, welcome to the illustrious and untreaded ground of 1999. Somehow, the new year just seemed to slink by me quietly, without so much as a pinch or a poke. I just remember last year, sitting in Applebee’s with Nick watching the ball drop and feeling so different when the year changed. This year, however, is just kinda like, “Hey, yesterday was last year, but today is not.”
Something really vague and casual. Hmm .. can I think of any more metaphors for the new year? Well, the beginning of last year was like slipping into a gorgeous Versace gown, while this year was like throwing on old jeans and a t-shirt.
Maybe, however, that’s a good thing — because last year was crazy and creepy. But, alas — onto the show!
So, Nick and I had decided to go out to dinner, and then spend the midnight hours at Applebee’s, in tradition of last year. He made reservations at RichBrau for 8:30, but I was dressed by 6, so he picked me up and we hung out — me in my beautiful new pleated skirt and red sweater; him, in a delightfully tight black sweater and gray pants — at his house.
After another quick stop at my house, we made our way to RichBrau. It was so frigidly cold outside. The restaurant was in the same area as the Peking we had eaten at before Sunset Boulevard, but this time we managed to park legally and not at a creepy parking lot with a concrete cross over it.
The restaurant was crowded and obviously geared to the 20-something crowd of Richmond. As always, the waitpeople figured we were just kids, so they took forever with our food, and when we got it, it was cold as hell. It was, however, very delicious and we were so hungry, that we demolished it in like five minutes.
We were people-watching throughout the restaurant, and suddenly the doors swung open and who to the wandering eye should appear, decked in some odd military uniform, but Sir Harry from OUAM ‘98. It seems now that I see him everywhere. Nick and I gawked at him for a while, and then departed into the icy winter, our stomachs full.
It was only 10:00, so we went back to my house to kill time before going to Applebee’s. As we walked in the door, however, the phone rang and soon my brother and Leslie were inviting us to their house for the night.
I was a bit wary about it. I wanted to go to Applebee’s, but I knew it would be kind of cute if we went to Marty’s house. So, I hesitantly agreed, and Nick and I climbed back into his van to find their house.
Well. They live on the West End, which is a good 40-minute-drive, but once we reached their neighborhood, we found ourselves completely lost. We went down every street and cul-de-sac, but their house was not to be found. I was almost in tears because I really didn’t want to spend the New Year in a car, and it was nearing midnight. We finally called from a gas station, got directions and walked into their house at 11:58 PM.
Something was off the minute I stepped in the hallway. It took me a few minutes to realize that Leslie looked as if she had just been crying and that Marty was completely drunk.
My brother and drinking are a terrible mix, considering it consumes 95% of his life. I was so hoping that he would be sober and it would be a cute little time, but no, he was drunk and acting stupid, and Leslie was doing her damn best to keep everyone chipper and happy.
They gave us champagne, which was fine except for the fact that Marty kept pouring more and more into my glass, and I kept refusing it everytime he tried. He clumsily tried to dance and to smoke a cigar, but just ended up about falling out.
In essence, it was hell for Nick — smoking, drunk people, a creepy house — he was just sitting in the corner, smiling uncomfortably and I knew I had to get him out of there.
I called Geoffrey and kinda faked our conversation, and then told Marty and Leslie we had another party to go to. I felt so bad for Leslie because she is so sincerely sweet, and Marty is just a mess. As my brother, I love him — but as a person, I can’t say I like him at all.
We left, confused and a little disappointed that that was the way the New Year began. We chalked it up to a memorable experience, and then went back to my house, where in the comfort of my warm living room, we ate cake and watched Cirque de Soleil on Bravo.
I spent most of today sleeping — no surprise there! I’m still sick — my voice is shot to hell, but I’m living. I’ve been so restless today, even to the point that I just got in my car and drove around. I do so hate to drive, so that was a feat.
I’m supposed to go shopping with Nick, if he calls me. I’m again in a mood where I want to be out of my house, but alas .. maybe patience will be a New Year’s resolution for me.