I ran out of space in this book item for my next entry. So, for a continuation of this blog, please see my new blog: "Invalid Item" .

Thank you. It's been wonderful writing with you.




 

Wednesday was the last day before class, and thus, a last hoorah for everyone before the work starts. I was planning on going on a glow hike - a hike at night with glowsticks. But then Imani and Patrick invited me along to an Open Mic at Porter, so I thought, I'll go there for an hour, and then go on my hike. Before that, I got home from visiting a friend, and decided to make myself a nice dinner: spaghetti with sauce, Broccoli, and I even baked some chocolate chip bread for dessert. It was a nice romantic dinner for one, my favorite kind, with music and everything (except candles - those aren't allowed). It was very satisfying. Then I left for the Open Mic. When I got there, there was a full house already, but Patrick let me sit on the arm of his chair, so I had a prime spot for watching the performances. And then I sat back... and was blown away. There are some seriously talented people in Porter. The whole time I was listening to various people's songs and poems, I had chills running up and down my body, it was that good. And then Imani went up there... and took it to a whole new level. Imani is a REALLY good musician. Oh my God. I was amazed. He did this kind of soulful, deep rap thing and played piano along with it, and it was the most haunting, beautiful, forceful music ever. He even had one verse in Spanish. I wish I could've recorded it and had it on my Mp3 player. He was so good that the last person who went up actually dedicated his song to Imani, who the guy had never even met before. And then Patrick went up and did some slam poetry... and he was the best of the slam poets! At the end, everyone was cheering, and he received a standing ovation. And then our other friend Amy played/sung a song with her guitar, and I loved it so much, I wanted to learn the lyrics and sing along. These were all original songs, by the way. That made them all the more amazing.

So I ended up staying at the Open Mic instead of going hiking. It was too good to leave. Afterwards, the bass guitar player who dedicated his song to Imani joined us, and Imani, Patrick, and Amy decided to go jam in the music practice rooms. I joined them, but I'm not the most musical person, so I was really just an audience. But it was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed listening to them.

Thursday was the first day of class, but I only had to go to one class, which was kayaking, and all we did was make sure that any questions were answered for next week. So I went home and then my friend Silvia called, so we left to get lunch together. As we were cramming onto a full bus, a heard a voice say "hey" behind me... I turned around, and there was Ricardo! I'll admit, I got a little jolt from seeing him there so unexpectedly, but then we started talking as best we could in that cramped bus. He was going to crash Sociology, a course which I'd taken last year and recommended to him. Before he could get off, I quickly got out my phone and tapped on his shoulder: "Hey, what's your number?" So I got his phone number, finally. Better late than never, hey?

And then I went to work - I like work. I love being back at work. Even at a dish-washing shift. I set to work training a new employee, and was having a pretty good time. I was very happy to be there. And then I got off, went home, ate, talked to Kim for a while, and went on a night jog. It's kind of trippy on campus because, at Kresge, it was clear outside, but when you go downhill to East Field, you suddenly drop down into this thick fog. It was nice, though.

And yesterday was an excellent day, as well. I went to class and then work (the slowest day of work EVER - 3 1/2 hours of working, and I only made 3 sandwiches!). After work, I didn't have anything else to do, so I called up Ricardo, thinking: he knows how to have a good time. He answered the phone and after a garbled conversation (I live in the Kresge dead zone for phones) we finally agreed to meet at the dining hall for dinner. I got there before him, mostly because I decided to walk - I don't like to depend on buses to get me where I'm going. Sure enough, no bus came until 20 minutes later, when Ricardo finally showed up. And then began the mad dash to find an open dining hall. After trying every dining hall but one, we finally got to 9/10, which was the only one open. Then I watched Ricardo scarf down about 5 plates of food - every dish they had available except for one - pizza, salad, rice, burger, clam chowder, soft serve - it all went into his stomach. I was amazed and asked: "Were you hungry at all?" And he was like, "Yeah, I don't usually eat this much, but I was starving." Despite eating all that food, he still managed to hold a conversation quite well, and it was never too awkward, which is always a good thing.

Then there were options: at my college, there was a Sex and Sexuality Game Show, which was pretty good last year. At Crown, there was a glow dance, which I found out about while we were searching for food. At the bookstore, there was a dance that was more of a sit-in from the protestors, who were trying to occupy a building and make it into a party. And then Ricardo told me about a dance at Oakes, as well, which he was planning on going to. Well, I decided that I wasn't going to miss out on a dance, and I'd rather go dancing with Ricardo than by myself, so I said I'd join him at the Oakes dance. If there's one thing that Ricardo can do - it's dance. Trust me, he's really good. Not that he's a professional or anything - just that, he knows how to let loose and move without anything holding him back. In fact, some of his moves are really really silly, but because he does them with enthusiasm and is shameless about them, they actually make him look good. And THAT'S what I love about dancing - I need people who are willing to just dance however they want and throw some fun into the mix. In fact, while we were heading down there, we were both complaining about how people don't actually dance at dances, and don't know how to make dancing fun. And then we got to talking about last year's friends - apparently, he'd been in the same situation as me last year, with a large group of friends from another college who are good to hang out with, but who don't actually call you. And I was really glad to have someone who could relate to me about that, because that means that Ricardo knows the value of a phone call, and will probably actually call me without any prompting (thank God!). In fact, when I called him yesterday, he ended the phone call with an emphatic: "Thank you so much for calling!"

After hanging around his apartment for awhile, we went to the dance, and it was a blast. I LOVE dancing with people who actually know how to dance - wildly. ;) And whenever the crowd formed a circle (the type where someone jumps in and shows off their moves and the crowd watches and claps), Ricardo and I would jump in. Once, he jumped into a circle, and danced ridiculously for a while, and then made a rope-throwing motion towards me... so I jumped in with him, and the crowd went wild and started hooting! And towards the end of the dance, a good salsa-dancing song came on, and I was trying to recall how to salsa... and he came up and showed me: "swing your hips like this, and then step like this" and asked "may I?" and then put his hands on my waist and salsa-ed with me clumsily, the both of us laughing. It was so much fun!! Then it ended, and we were both soaked head to toe in sweat. We walked back to his apartment where I got my jacket and glasses (I'd left them there so that they wouldn't fly off in some of my more outrageous dancing), and then when he asked what I was doing tomorrow, I said, getting books. He needed to get books too, so I invited him along. And then he said, well, would you like to get dinner or lunch while we're down there?

So now I'm waiting to catch a bus downtown with him to get lunch with him before shopping for books. My feet are incredibly sore from last night (a sign of a good night), and I'm looking forward to more!
 

It is quite wonderful to be back on campus, moved in, and by my lonesome again. The last few days have been crazy with activities (as welcome week always is), and I have been attending as many of them as possible, mostly with my new roommates and neighbors by my side. My first outing with my apartment-mate Imani was to the beach. I was at home, lounging, when Imani suddenly burst through the door and asked if I wanted to go to the beach. So I grabbed a jacket and left, and crammed in the back of his SUV (and by back, I mean BACK, as in "trunk") with a whole gaggle of other junior transfers like Imani himself. One was my new neighbor and gay best friend, Patrick, and the others included several girls and one quiet guy named Will. It was to be a bonfire on the beach - however, we did not have much money, and the people in the car opted for beer instead of firewood. Which meant that instead of a bonfire, we only had a "bon". But it was pretty fun - well, I was kind of bored, but a satisfied bored, a "listening contentedly" kind of bored. Some of the conversation topics were really deep - such as religion, why so-and-so believes in God, music, ethics, etc - and gave the trip an out-of-body kind of experience. In addition, a large group of adults on the beach were setting off Chinese lanterns: rice paper bags with a candle beneath that filled with hot air and lifted off into the sky, rising steadily and growing ever smaller, until finally hitting a current and flying off into distant space. It really was an amazing thing to watch.

I went on a hike with my other apartment-mate, Kim, on a search for Cat's Cradle - a cat graveyard - but our group got lost, and only ended up doing a giant loop around upper campus to come back exactly where we left off. The next day, I set off on my own (after getting several "no's" when I invited my not-yet-seen friends) and hiked around up to the Swing, Tree 9, and even to the Wishing Tree, which I didn't even know the location of until I stumbled upon it. The Wishing Tree, by the way, is a tree where you write down your wishes and stick them on the branches of the tree in hopes that they will come true. Despite all my hiking, I still did not find Cat's Cradle. Perhaps it's a myth...

After my hike, I stopped by Crown to see if my friends were there, and indeed, they were. The then invited me to dinner with them, and we went and got Woodstock's Pizza together. After that, Imani and Patrick invited me along on a trip to the Porter Caves, along with what must've been an entire Porter dorm (50+ people, easily). It was a fun but exhausting day.

... but it is the day after that that you've been waiting to hear about, I'm sure. I woke up to a call from Kevin (always a nice way to wake up, to a call from someone you really like), who invited me to dinner that night, after we were both done with our consecutive meetings. I finished my meeting with my new building-mates (a mixer, to introduce yourself to everyone you live with) and set off to the bus stop to see Kevin for the first time in over 6 months. On the way, I met my old apartment-mate and trouble-maker, Julia (the one who was always on drugs), so I had to stop and say hi and chat with her a while. Then I set off again, climbing the small hill to the Kresge bus stop. As I walked, I was pretty excited, but it was when I saw what looked like him from a distance, that was when my heart did this kind of swooping thing, and I felt a sudden rush of blood through my veins. I was almost shaking, and had to hold back a massive grin. He beat me to the bus stop, but then saw me coming, and began to walk over - I could tell he was having just as much trouble trying not to smile, and as we came closer to one another, we both just gave in and let it loose. We hugged and then started talking. But as I was telling him about just coming from a building meeting, he remembered that he, too, had a meeting that he'd forgotten about - which meant that he couldn't have dinner. I was majorly disappointed, but took what little time I had and showed him my apartment. Then we decided to go on a short walk until he had to go back. He told me how, this quarter, he was going to try not to have any more problems. He said that last year, he didn't sleep much, and that sort of triggered all the problems that followed, so this year, he's going to try to get more sleep. Besides that, we just talked about school and summer and roommates - rather dull conversation, actually, but *shrug* I was happy - and then I walked him back to Crown, went home and ate dinner alone. But he did say, before he left, that we should hang out some Friday night or some-such. I heartily agreed.

Instead of Kevin, I went to a dance and mixer with Patrick. The mixer was just an introduce-yourself-to-random-strangers-and-make-friends kind of thing. After that was the Michael Jackson Tribute dance, where I danced the night away (and my neck away, too - my neck is SORE).

Today, I went to Free Day and got some free stuff for our apartment, and then I went to OPERS, which is a festival thing where all the clubs and sports teams and such have booths you can check out. I got a few handouts from a couple of dance groups, a weekend activity organization, and the kayaking club, but I can't really participate this quarter because I have so much class. I ran into my friends (Jake, Billy, Josh, Carney, etc) and ate dinner with them, and then ran off to find Patrick to go to the Boardwalk Frolic. The Boardwalk is kind of like a year-round fair at the beach, with small roller coasters and rides, and every year, the school has an event to go there. I thought to go with my Crown friends, but, as it turns out, they weren't going. So I was to go with Patrick next door. Only, for a while, I couldn't find Patrick, so had a moment of panic and loneliness in my apartment, and contemplated just staying at home... but then I went out to the bus stop to go alone, and found him there at the parking structure. So we went, and were having a pretty good time... and then I saw Kevin. We were in line for a roller coaster, and I was talking merrily with Patrick and Torro (who accompanied us), when I turn around to look at the line and suddenly, there he is. My heart PLUNGED. And I thought, Oh god, not again... But indeed, it was him, he had come with his new roommate, and when he caught sight of me a few seconds later, he smiled in surprise too. A hasty introduction to our various company, and then the line moved us out of range. I got on the roller coaster, subtley looking out of the corner of my eye for the tall, gangly blonde guy in the dashing red plaid shirt... and then the ride jerked and I was off. When we got off, I was of half a mind to stay and wait by the exit for Kevin to come through, but I ended up staying with my group. We got some food, and I was looking the whole time where I knew Kevin would get off. I saw him walk by, and hoped he would look my way. But he didn't, and kept on going...

So I just enjoyed the rest of my night with Patrick and Torro, looking around occasionally, but for the most part enjoying myself. We went through a haunted house walk-through, and Patrick was clutching my shoulders the entire way in a vice-like grip, with me laughing at him the whole way while trying to navigate through a maze of mirrors and hanging creepers. It was a lot of fun, but my stomach was kind of sick from the fair food (ice cream), and everyone was tired. So we went home a little early to beat the rush. Imani invited us to the beach, but this time we opted out in favor of some rest. So now I'm in my new home, doing the laundry, and wondering how badly it's going to be this year (the Kevin thing), a bit disconcerted by how easily the sight of one person can turn my stomach like that...

But now I am very excited. It was good for me to see Kevin out and about - I'm glad he's off having fun with other people, making new friends and such. Hopefully there won't be any problems this year for him. And, of course, I'm excited to have another chance at friendship with him, and possibly more. Although, my work-load this quarter is pretty intense. I have 21 Lit books to read, half of them essays. But with any luck, I'll find time to see him, and to hang out with Patrick and Imani and Kim and Francis, and all those other really nice people that I met. I'm really happy to be living with the people I'm living with. They're better friends than the ones I had in Crown last year (and closer, too!).

In fact, my Crown friends (excepting Kevin, and maybe Trinnie, as predicted) have only given me discontent. They never call me, they never invite me anywhere unless I call them and ask what they are doing, or unless I physically go over there and make my presence known. Quite frankly, I'm tired of it, and don't think I'll be seeing much of them anymore. When I first got here, I tried to invite them all somewhere, or call them... not only was I really hesitant to do so, but they all said "no" and were all hanging out in Jake's room, as usual, and didn't even invite me over when I called wanting to see them (though, when I showed up later, they didn't object to me being there). I actually cried over the frustration of that, and then got over it, and went hiking by myself to all those places on upper campus. By the end of my hike, I was sweaty and tired and happy to just slowly let them out of my life, like I've been wanting to do. They are really shitty friends. Good people, shitty friends. If you'll excuse the language.

But mostly, that's a relatively small set-back. The best thing about this year is that I've already met such awesome people, who WILL reciprocate my friendship, so it doesn't even matter anymore. I'd rather hang out with Patrick and Imani and Kim and that guy on the bus stop corner I met at the mixer who invited me to the boardwalk with his friends when I thought I'd lost Patrick... hell, the random strangers in Kresge are better friends than my old friends in Crown!

But enough of this madness - I bid thee goodnight.

 

Winter may be relinquishing it's grip on the other side of the world, but it's only just beginning to appear, here. The rain is steadily increasing in frequency and the trees are beginning to turn. Of course, soon I'll be in Santa Cruz, where it doesn't rain as much as it does here... but I've heard from people in Santa Cruz that it was raining there, too, so hopefully that pattern will stay. Then we can have a proper UCSC First Rain: brave, unabashed souls running around the campus naked in the rain. Ah, Santa Cruz - it's crazy sometimes, but I love it.

I didn't mention Kevin because there's nothing to mention - yet. At this point in time, he's pretty much like every other UCSC friend of mine - I have to wait until they're all moved in to see whether or not we'll all still be friends or not. I hate to say it, but without the common living space that my Crown group had, I probably won't see all of them the way I used to. This means that some of the friendships I had will most likely fade away. Of course, there's the flip side to that too... those who DO remain in contact with me, I'll probably become closer to, because there won't be a giant group of people distracting from a closer friendship. Which is what I'm hoping will happen with Kevin. And then there are the wild cards, the people I haven't met yet: roommates, Heather, classmates, neighbors, random strangers met at random events... and those, I think, are pretty exciting. If nothing else, I'll get to watch other people's social games, which is also entertaining. But really, losing my Crown friends won't hit me too hard. They were good to have to hang out with, but in the long run, they weren't the best of friends anyway. I work best with fewer, closer friends than with a large group like that. Like in Newbury Park - me, Mary, and Jean. That's all I need.

Last year just sucked because I didn't find that kind of friend until the end of the year, and then she left. Hopefully, I'll have better luck this year.

... and I'll certainly have better classes. More priority and more concentration means I get to do more of the stuff I love, which I'm really excited for.

Today, I went to storage and scrounged around for some pots, pans, utensils, and other kitchen necessities. Now all my stuff is packed in the truck and ready to go. All I need is me, my laundry, and some sundry items that I've picked up in my travels - such as my "Oregon Coast in a bottle", a few books, and the Cube-In-A-Cube that my brother made me - and I'm all set.

Lately, I've been having really weird sleeping habits. For instance, I stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning (it's 2 am right now), spend an hour trying to sleep and ignore all the baby spiders in my bed (they laid eggs nearby, which hatched), sleep until about 10:30, get up and do something... then I get home, immediately crash on my mom's bed, fall asleep for 3-4 hours, and wake up around 9 pm, just when everybody else is hopping off to bed. It's kind of bad, but also kind of good - the naps I take are so nice. Kind of like the naps I'd take at school when I got overly emotional - it's just nice sometimes to zonk out and not worry about things for a few hours. Only thing is, it screws up the rest of my night, too.
 

Well... this is it. The next two days will be spent gathering and packing things. The third day will be spent driving. And on the fourth day, not only will I be unpacking, but I'll be ready to go back to work, too. I'll get to meet my new apartment-mates, who are already there. And by Tuesday of the following week, all my friends will be there, too. And on Thursday, it begins... the new quarter.

I'm very very excited. I think the first thing I shall do after I've unpacked and mom has left is to take a walk around campus, like I used to do. I've been itching to visit the Swing again. Perhaps take another tour of the Porter caves, or a turn around upper campus towards Tree 9. I can take the bus down to the beach... or downtown. Walk through the center of campus again. Run around the track and stare across Santa Cruz. I'd just like to walk the length of campus, through it and around it, on all the trails through all the trees and meadows, and just take it in. And think to myself, I'm back.

I've already found a new friend... or, rather, that new friend found me. Heather works in the mail room at Kresge, and all last year, everytime I passed by her, I smiled and waved... I don't remember ever meeting her or giving her my name, and I don't even remember why I wave at her, but this week, she found me online and finally gave me her name, with a promise to eat chocolate, have social experiments (she's a Sociology major, too), and roll our eyes at sexual innuendos together. Sounds fantastic to me!

Today was, in essence, my last day to take in the Oregon wilderness. My mom and I went back to the beach one last time (the other day, we went to Detroit and I just swam for a full hour, taking it in). When we got back home, I fell onto the bed and passed out under a blanket, falling in and out of dreams until finally waking three hours later, sweating between the bodies of my mom and my dog. I woke up JUST in time for bed time! *face-palm* Not such good planning on my part... but sleeping like that felt SO good.

I can't wait to get back to school, back to work, back to the gym, back to my friends... back to going to random dances alone, back to free theater shows and college nights and special, interesting events. Back to reading, back to writing, back to WORKING. Back to having a reason to wake up in the morning, and a reason to go to bed at night. I need to be busy again. All this relaxation is getting to me. And I'm not in as good of shape as I was a month ago, either, because there isn't a gym for me to go to here. I hate seeing all that work to get my body this way going to waste.
 

I don't mind coming Out
To people who are Out.

It's not that I don't like being Out...
Just that In was never my thing.

...Just a commentary on how it's so easy to be yourself around people who are willing to be themselves. And oh so uncomfortable to be around people who aren't Out.
 

I've been thinking about it, and I've realised that a double major in Sociology and Literature suites me incredibly well.

1) I'm shy. To quote a sociology professor, "I was never a social person, so instead, I decided to study the social scene from the sidelines." I'm not a social person myself, but I like to watch social interactions. It's interesting.

2) I may be shy, but then I find myself outting myself publicly anyway. When there's a reason to. When I want to. For instance, I'm not the ambitious type, but I went out and found myself a job anyway, without any encouragement or suggestion to do so. For instance, I do not like being in the lime-light, but I am now going to be a part of a documentary about asexuality, of all things. Granted, it's not a big part - you only see a couple flashes of my face and and hear my voice in the background - but damn I hate seeing/hearing myself! It's embarrassing... but also exciting. It's exciting to finally get out there and take part in something.

3) I love writing. I haven't been doing a ton of it lately, but I still love it and I still do it on a semi-regular basis. I'm reasonably good at it, too. My grammar and spelling is good the first time around except for maybe a few typos. I know how to structure an argument and how to tear apart that structure to artistic effect. It's easy and fun for me, and I use it to form thoughts, postulate, record, clarify, etc, etc.

4) I love reading. I'm a good reader. I can pick up on things. This, in turn, ties in with the fact that I'm a good listener. I can listen/read, decipher, understand, and use that understanding to create meaning for me.

How does this all add up? Well, I read the world around me by studying sociology, and I use that reading to understand as many perspectives as possible. Then I use my artistic, calmly aloof voice to write about it and clarify my main ideas, to explain it to other people so that they might understand and to get an important point across and on its way to developing into something more. In this way, I can instigate change and be a part of something, and yet still remain in my sideline position with peace and writing and reading.

I like writing, but occasionally I like living too. This way, I can do both - live, write, write, live. Be a part of the world, and apart from it, too.

Yes.
 

It's been an interesting experience - that's for sure. Loving someone. Loving someplace. Moving away and slowly, ever-so-slowy reverting back to what I used to be - but different, changed... never the same. Shifting passions, shifting interests, moving constantly in and out of my life. I went from a philosophical dreamer, from a contemplative writer, from a quiet, content bibliophile to a fast-paced, practical, physical, determined individual, bent on living over writing, bent on being over thinking, bent on running and playing over analyzing. I used to be able to read for days, to write page after page after page of life questions and answers, to watch the world from the side and think and dream, happily out of action. I used to love loneliness, thrill in silence, thrive in thought. And now... now I live more than ever. I walk, I run, I feel my muscles move me physically forward. "I" is no longer a hypothetical person. It's a living, breathing human being. "I" lick my lips, gasp for breath, and feel the pain and the pleasure in everything I do.

Today, instead of sitting in and writing about the beauty of the trees, I went out and walked under them, felt their shade on my skin, felt the breeze the moved them, breathed in their air, their earthy, fresh scent. I experienced the trees. Experienced the motion of my limbs, the bobbing of my head as I walked, the sliding of my glasses down my nose, the light in my eyes, the blue of the sky... so real, so there, so now. I felt it in me, on me, around me... and I didn't feel the words.

The words I loved, the words that flowed through my mind and fingers... what happened to the words? They fell, got lost in the ever-present experience of now. I was... but I wasn't written. My actions got lost in their own action. I loved, I lived, I interacted... and I was so busy living that I didn't interact with my own actions. I didn't think about them, didn't stop to let the words play with the memories or mingle with the thoughts. There were no questions. There were no answers. There just was. What was.

And now, there is what is. And what there is is a resurgence of thought. A resurgence of dreams. And now, a resurgence of words. I still live more than ever... but the living has once again ebbed, the waves have subsided enough to allow reflection. And while it's not yet crystal, it's pretty clear to me: I love living. Within the last few months, the thing that's become most apparent to me is that writing is not essential to my living. I've discovered what it is to live in the absence of dreams, thought, and words. And it wasn't just writer's block this time - there wasn't even the desire to turn back. There was only forward, only present, only here and now. And to get the full taste of it, I left my old life behind... I stopped writing. I stopped dreaming. No more did I dream of a world apart from my own. I simply... lived. And it was wonderful. Glorious. Thrilling, enticing... absolutely and completely captivating. There were no worries, no doubts, no regrets... just life, just experience, just moment after moment of energy and being. I loved it. But I didn't, wouldn't, write.

I very nearly stopped writing altogether. There were only short, concise reports of important events, scattered here and there over a few months, unembellished and plain, written for the sole purpose of recording the occurence. There were no longer the long, flowing pieces of philosophical brilliance and commentary that there used to be. There were no longer creative pieces written for entertainment and expression. All there was was the bare bones of my life. Dreams, thoughts, and prose no longer took precedence. I was too busy enjoying life. To busy feeling the ups and downs, to busy being everything that I used to write about. Writing wasn't as important as before.

But now, after long months of isolation and longing, of being cut off from the life I was living in college, I have begun to revert. I find myself dreaming again in broad daylight, like I used to - making up characters, following them around in my head, all while my own body walks around, carrying this dream-world inside me. The largest portion of my day still revolves around living. I do less reading and more running, less writing and more talking. I go outside. But in moments of calm, in instants of rest, I find myself thinking again - dreaming again. At night, I read. I can again get lost in whole books for hours.

... and here I am now, writing for the sole purpose of writing, of thinking, blocking out the entire outer world for a world of words. Occasionally, I am stirred from my reverie, and come back to life... but I enjoy dreaming just as much as living. And living just as much as dreaming. Sometimes I have difficulty deciding between the two. So now, the pattern is this: live. Live the day away, exhaust your body, feel, breathe, live... and then write. Read a chapter. Read two. Fall into a vivid dream. And arise from it refreshed, to live again.

This is my life... living, writing, dreaming, thinking, running, being. I am a social person. I am an antisocial person. I am everything I want to be right now.

Right. Now.
 

I haven't been on the computer much since arriving in Oregon. My days are spent half sleeping, and half outside. Just the way it should be. I've slept so well since arriving here, it's amazing. Every night, I have the most amazing vivid dreams, which is the reason that I don't wake up when I should. I wake up in the morning to my alarm, then quickly shut it off and roll over, trying to save the storyline of the dream and pick up where I left off. Most of the time I succeed, and then proceed to sleep until 1 or 2 in the afternoon. My most recent set of dreams involved one where I was in some kind of military/camp group and we were in a line marching and Kevin was in front of me. When the group stopped to listen to the commander or whatever, I proceeded to flirt subtly with Kevin. Later, the commander forbade any kind of relationship for the next 120 years. I then defied the commander and proposed to Kevin, who then accepted, turning around with a cake in his hands with 120 candles in it, and said, "so I guess I don't have to wait until your 120th birthday to marry you?" I dunno, it was romantic in the dream. *rolls eyes* Then the second dream, I was actually playing the part of a man. I was on a race track at my old school with my brother and was making a flip-picture book thing. Then I somehow jumped through the pictures into a different story and rescued this girl and we were running from someone/thing and jumping from scene to scene through the pictures. The first dream isn't surprising because my book, Catch-22, is set in a war and is very similar.

Oregon is great. The other day, it rained. Yesterday it was 100 degress, and then today it rained again. Just when you think it's going to be hot, it rains. That's why I love Oregon - it's unpredictable. Today, I woke up from my amazing dreams - they truly are amazing, they make you want to sleep all day - and walked outside to find it overcast, where my mom said "We should go hiking." I agreed. So we ate, packed up and left without further ado. We went to this place past Detroit Lake called Merrion Lake. We didn't actually make it to the lake, but we made it to a closer, smaller lake after an hour of hiking. The whole time we were driving, the rain was just behind us, and after we started hiking, it caught up to us. So we hiked with the rain falling through breaks in the trees, the whole place beautiful and green and wet. When we finally got to the first lake, it was pouring down the rain, and the fish were jumping right out of the water!!

A few days ago, we went to Fogarty Beach, which is our favorite because it's a rocky beach, and if you take the time to look, you can find some pretty good sized agates. We spent the day squatting down looking for them, digging through the sand. I came home with a sunburn stripe across my lower back where my shirt was riding up from squatting.

These trips weren't just planned. No, we went on these trips to escape my uncle and grandma. They were sitting in the living room with the news on, and my uncle would just sit there and spout off racist remarks, including the "N" word, several comments about how blacks and mexicans should be shot, how we would soon have another civil war, and how he wished Obama was having a miserable time on his vacation and would soon be assassinated. Meanwhile, my grandma sat there and lectured me about my school, telling me not to listen to everything I was told because a lot of it's lies... I'm assuming that this is the PG version of her previous talks with my mom about how she was worried that I would become a lesbian/druggie/alchoholic/liberal wild woman. The whole time, I was practically bristling, trying to eat as quickly as I could and get away from the room. My mom was giving me looks the whole time, as well, and, as soon as we finished, we fled the room and planned a trip to the coast.

... and now I'm at home, contemplating going back to sleep for more of those delectable, vivid dreams, and talking to Kevin via text (which is slow going because my phone looses signal every minute or two). I think, though, that I'll read more of my book. I haven't gotten to read much of it for very long... I only read at night, and then I usually doze off pretty quickly. Although, I SHOULD be working on my mom's birthday present... a drawing of Dakota, our dog. Her birthday was two days ago, and I still haven't finished it. *guilty*

Anyways, goodnight!
 

I love the winter. I like to go out when it first starts raining and just walk through it... of course, I prefer to do this clothed, unlike some of the Santa Cruz people who do the traditional naked run on first rain. I also like, though, when it's been raining for a long time and then the sun comes out for the first time. I don't like the sun so much, but the effect of the sun on people after so long in the rain is a sight to behold - everyone's mood gets lighter and carefree, and it's rather enjoyable, really.

I'm in Oregon now... my dad drove me up early on Friday morning and we arrived at Shasta around 1pm. The next day, we met my mom, brother, and dog and my dad rented a boat to go out on the lake for the day. He brought his skis and inner tube, and we all piled in. It was a pretty fun day. All I really wanted to do was swim, but my dad pressed me to learn how to drive the boat, and then to ski... I tried it three times, got up once, and then stopped because I didn't want anymore water up my nose. The inner tube was fun, but it really strains your neck. Today, my arms, back, and neck are all sore, and whenever I strain my neck too much, it gives a twinge. I also have a lovely bright violet bruise on my leg from who knows what. But I spent most of my day yesterday in the water. I wanted to swim longer, but the others wanted to move on, so I didn't get to stay in the water for as long as I wanted to, although I jumped in whenever possible. My dog would sit in the boat and whine whenever one of us got in the water... and then she would jump in too, and swim to get you. She loves to swim. We also got her to go innertubing with us, although that didn't last long either... she would stick her nose down in the water while it was moving and try to drink the water, and then she would jump out and swim. My brother, on the other hand, didn't do ANYTHING. He literally just sat in one corner all day. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything. He wasn't happy until we got home today and he was back to playing Xbox with his online friends.

The moment we got to my grandma's house, things went downhill. This is because my relatives all annoy each other and bitch about each other constantly. My grandma and my uncle have this tendency to criticize everything you do (and anything anyone else does) and treat you like you're a child who doesn't know how to do anything. My grandma must've asked me ten times whether I thought the light would be enough to read by, whether I had enough food, whether I had enough blankets, and said, yes, yes, yes, it's fine, stop asking, please. My grandma and my uncle will both talk your ear off with worrying and criticism, if you're not careful. And now I can't even stand to be around my mom because the only thing SHE talks about is how annoying my uncle is. I swear, she hates him. And it's driving me crazy. She told me the same story about uncle Dan blaming her for his sandwich going cold at least 5 times tonight.

Needless to say, I miss my friends already. All I want is to have a nice, long, meaningful conversation with someone, without anyone criticizing or bitching about anyone else. JEEZ. Calm down, people. I can't wait for the daytime... I'll just walk right outside away from them all, and into the trees. If they start lecturing me about going off on my own (which, in all probability, they will) then I'll tell them that I've been doing it for a year now, and they can worry about their own problems, thank you very much.

My solution to these problems is just to shut up... if you're quiet, then people get bored and go away to talk to someone else. This tactic works pretty well. It might annoy people a little or make them think that something is wrong with me, but I don't really care. If people ask me a direct question, I mumble passively. It's not so much that I do this on purpose, it's just the way I am when I'm annoyed. I don't like to talk when I'm annoyed. So I don't. All in all, I think it works better than blowing up, like my relatives do.

Anyways, it's getting late... I want to read my book for a while. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. It's very good, I like the literary humor in it. It kind of twists around your expectations and makes fun of them to good effect. It's similar to Kurt Vonnegut... I looked for some more of him in the used book store we went to today, but the little old lady who owns the place didn't have any at the time. The used bookstore is one of the best stores in Salem. This lady owns it, and she just sits in there all day surrounded floor to ceiling with all these old books that've been read time and time again, and she welcomes the customers and tells them with a book-lovers knowledge when she rings them up "Oh, that's a good one" or "This is a great author" and you can tell that she just loves it there. She sticks a few dozen bookmarks in your books, and sends you off to read with a smile, taking pleasure in the pleasure that people find in books. She gives people discounts and credits and just loves all of it. If you ask me, that's the way to retire - with books.

So... I'll leave you and retire with my own books!

Goodnight!

 

"When she talks to him, her hopes flare up like embers in a dead fire that only needs the wind to light anew."

Nice fucking metaphor. Seriously. That's a good one. And excuse my French - I don't speak it very well.

That's EXACTLY what it's like. I no longer get emotional over thoughts of the guy, and I can easily think about him without my gut dropping like it used to, and I honestly think that the "fire" is dead... but, given half a chance, it would reignite almost instantly. I have no idea what's going to happen when I get back to Santa Cruz and see the guy again for the first time in 7 months. But it's not too hard to imagine falling again. Or, at the very least, wanting desperately to be a closer friend. Who knows, though? I sure don't. It's been too long since I've last seen him. I've forgotten his face - I used to be able to call it up instantly. Now he's reverted back to an idea, just like all my other friends I haven't seen. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin... I find it so surreal that I felt so strongly for the guy. If I think back, I can remember what it was like, but man, it was so intense then, I don't understand how it could revert back to nothing so easily.

Whatever. We'll see. There are endless possibilities. Perhaps I'll get together with Kevin. Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll find Ricardo again and actually get his number this time. Perhaps I'll meet some new, Literature geek like me who can match me in Scrabble. Perhaps nothing'll happen at all, and I'll just live my life in my single peace like I always have.

... But I confess, I've been wanting a relationship. My curiosity is growing. For me, it's not the desire or the need that drives me, it's just the curiosity and the desire to find out what it's like to be that close to someone and have it returned to you. To be able to touch someone openly and actually be close to them. Rather than just in theory. It'd be nice. Assuming that I could get past the "awkward". I'm very awkward. But then again, anything you do for the first time that involves other people is awkward. You have to learn it first before you can be comfortable with it.

But yes... it's almost 4am, I just wrote 9 pages, front and back, about my first year "in love" and my hand is sore as fuck. I'm amazed that I wrote that much. Granted, it's not the best of work, but it's a lot and it's a good start. Maybe I'll turn it into something. Or maybe it'll just live in my notebook until I find it years later and read it and remember all this shit and go "Oh fuck, my first love." I wrote it in third person, though, which is somewhat strange. Yes, I told a story about myself in the third person. I don't use my name. Only "she". I like the ending, though. This is the ending:

Summer. She fills it with as many activities as possible. She still finds it boring. She longs for Santa Cruz. And when she talks to Kevin, her hopes flare up like embers in a dead fire which only needs the wind to light anew.

Anything can happen.




 

On Monday, I woke up extra early to join Jane (Mary's mom) and Jake (Mary's boyfriend) in rescuing Mary from LAX airport. After driving a ways and sitting in the cell phone lot breathing the fumes of the airplanes flying straight overhead, Mary finally called and said that she'd arrived. After circling the terminal 3 times, we finally caught sight of Mary and managed to pull up next to her and load her stuff into the car. She refused to hug anyone, seeing as she had gone three days without a shower, and the moment she got in the car, she began scarfing down the American food that we'd brought her, saying that she hadn't eaten all day. Then she talked our ears off all the way home, telling us stories about the boys that she'd gone with, and the drunken antics, and the many perils of staying with a couple of different host families. She brought home a bottle of Baijiu (pronounced by-jo), which is the best Chinese liquor, apparently, and which the drunken Patrick had partook of many times, and which eventually led to Mary's first drunken experience. At least the potent stuff drives away mosquitos.

When we got home, we dropped Jake off at his house, and I assumed that I would be going home as well, to give Mary a chance to sleep off the jet-lag... however, when we got to her house, she begged me to stay and talk to her. So I stayed. However, I didn't do much talking - what would I say? - and instead, Mary showed us her 400-some pictures and videos and told all her many China stories. The first thing she did was take a shower and complain of how, in China, babies are allowed to simply poop on the street anywhere they want. Then she got a cue-tip and cleaned out her ears... and there was so much China in her ears that I could see it all the way across the room, which is an accomplishment because I'm near-sighted. We all groaned happily with disgust. I stayed at her house and listened to her stories for a number of hours, and cuddled with her on the couch, happy to simply be there. But then I had to leave around 7pm, so I said a reluctant goodbye.

Then I drove an hour and a half to Long Beach, stayed the night at my grandma's house, and then set off with my aunt in the morning for Catalina Island. We boarded the Catalina Express, an hour long boat ride, and stared out over the water... we watched the birds flying low over the water, just barely not skimming it, and pelicans sitting out on the rocks. As we got further out, suddenly the people in front of us got excited and we looked out the window to see a whole pod of dolphins leaping out of the water right next to the boat. It was an amazing sight. There were so many of them, all leaping together playfully with the boat... and just when we thought we had passed them, we saw even more. There must have been at least 50. As we passed them all, we thought about how neat it would be if, while we were kayaking, some dolphins came up next to us.

We arrived at the island, and despite the overcast weather everywhere else, the island seemed to be in its own pocket of sun, untouched by the gloom. We later found out that this was because of some currents. We walked around Avalon to the other side where we were to rent our kayaks, and rented them for the day. We got two singles. Lori strapped our stuff into the back of hers and we set out around the island, weaving in and out of buoys and boats. My aunt wasn't as hardy as she thought she was, though. We got a long ways around the island, and then tried to find a beach. The one we landed on turned out to be private property, so we set out again... as I was trying to get back in, a wave pushed the kayak and it rolled right over my feet, scrapping and bruising one of them. I now have a 2 1/2" wide, swollen bruise on my left foot that is very sore, such that I can't wear shoes. But, hey, it's all in good fun. We got back in and out and went to the next cove which was the public one. But the beach there was all rocky, and we decided just to drift in the water instead. I hopped in for a swim, and pulled a shrimp back in the boat with me. My aunt, meanwhile, was beat, her abs aching. The trip turned out to be a little too much for her.

On the way there, we had seen an eagle, a crane, and a few baby seagulls on the rocks. As we were drifting, a couple of sea lions decided to float with us, just a few feet away. They poked their heads out and watched us warily before swimming away. But of course, the most stunning thing about Catalina Island is the kelp forest. In the shallower parts of the island, the kelp stood up from the bottom and floated at the top, swaying the the rays of light shining down through the water and with the waves. Weaving in and out of the kelp forest were the bright orange fish known as the Garibaldi - I love them because you can see them so easily, just by looking down, and they are everywhere, swimming sedately underneath your boat. Also, some silvery fish swam with them. In a kayak, you can look over the side and see all the beautiful life in the kelp forest so easily. I remember as a little girl, my dad took me there snorkeling, and it was awesome.

As we headed back, my aunt started to wear down. I had to stop for her constantly, and finally, she got sick. As she leaned over to throw up, she leaned too far, and the kayak rolled over to dump her in the water. It took many tries, with me holding one end of her kayak, for her to get back in. Her sandals almost floated away, and if our stuff hadn't been tied down, it would've sunk and been lost. By the time my aunt got back in and was seated, we had almost been pushed to shore by the waves. The camp kids on the private beach watched us the whole time. Finally, we set off again, at an even slower pace as my aunt tried to make it back to the beach we started from.

All told, we were kayaking for 4 hours. I could've gone longer, but obviously, my aunt wasn't in the best of shape to be going that far. Afterwards, she pledged that she'd start working out. But anyways, we got out and wrung out the towels and clothes and dried them somewhat in the sun. We up-ended the tote bag and a torrent of water came pouring out. I was too lazy to put more sunscreen on, so I wore my dry jacket. The weather was absolutely perfect - warm enough to go swimming in the ocean, but cool enough that one could comfortably wear a jacket. After a while, my aunt was feeling better and we went out to eat. Then, to while away the hours, we played a game of mini golf - I won, but we both did rather badly. Then we boarded the return boat, and I instantly nodded off. I woke up drooling down my shirt, and we got off and went home.

The next day, I drove home... but not directly. I went to see Mary and Jean again, and ended up sleeping over at Mary's. We rented a movie, and Mary made us dinner - she likes to cook, and is really good at it - and I made some chocolate popcorn. We watched the movie and then went to bed, talking for a while before nodding off to sleep with her kitties walking over us. When we woke up this morning, Mary had made breakfast (she's an early-riser, too, despite the jet-lag), and then we took a quick post-breakfast nap. We set off to Moorpark college on some errands, and returned. And now, I've dropped everyone off and have come home to a blissfully empty house and am ready to relax... although, next week I'll have to pack, for I am leaving for Oregon next Friday.

Why is it that everything happens all at once, or not at all? It seems that I am either too busy or not busy enough, and rarely, if ever, find a balance between the two. But I suppose the variety is good.
 

Three gay guys, two identical twins, one happy couple, one straight single guy, and one straight single girl.

Guess which one I am!!

Yes, I am the straight (well, sorta) single girl - er, woman, I guess - among a mass of drunken/high sexually-charged people. I was the only one who was completely sober, although the straight single guy was pretty close - he only sipped sedately at a beer. In fact, the two single people - me and John - seemed to be of a very similar demeanor. While the others were extremely noisy and gossipy and silly, the two of us could always be found on the outskirts of the group, leaning back, watching in silent amusement as the events unfolded, and occasionally putting in our two cents of good-humored sarcastic remarks aimed at jokingly making fun of the various drunk/high people. Frequently, I would be comfortably watching the group, and then I would look to the side and see John sitting in the corner, doing exactly the same thing. He would look at me, make eye contact, and we would both share a mutual understanding for a second before rolling our eyes and going back to observing. Many a time, the loud conversation would switch over to TV shows/movies/pop culture (which I am notorious for knowing absolutely nothing about), and once I glanced at John to see him in the exact same position, nodding to humor the talkers, but not really following at all, and I leaned over and half-whispered: "Are you following this?" And he responded casually, smiling: "Not at all."

It's nice to meet another observer such as myself. Of course, it's also awkward because then the two observers end up observing each other at some point, and that can get weird. Not that anything would happen, really, just that I'm not used to people watching me along with the others. I usually fade into the background among such a crowd. And, of course, among such a sexually-charged group, it's really difficult not to think about what might happen if the two silent ones found a connection... of course, this is all pure fantasy. Day dreams. But still... it's among groups like those that the fact that you are single (and wholly inexperienced) really stands out. Sitting there half-listening to the talk, half thinking, I felt myself mind of missing the closeness that a physical relationship can provide. Not that I want to have sex... I'm thinking about hugging, cuddling, etc. Simple touch. Contact. You see, physical touch like that really helps to create intimacy and comfort. Closeness. It's the closeness that I desire.

But I realized just how distant I am from people when we were all saying goodbye around 2 am: First, Zac gave everyone a hug, then the twins... I didn't get a forced hug from Malekai, but he hugged the people he knew better. As people were hugging, and some awkwardness ensued, John, who was standing next to me, says to me: "Yeah... I'm really not the hugging type of person." I respond by saying "Me neither." And when I leave, I simply say, "My turn to back out, eh?" and then I climb through the spider-infested bushes to my car, without really saying goodbye at all, and roll down the window just before I pull out to say, "Nice meeting you." And then I leave. Easy as that.

I really need to develop a more touchy-feely side. Obviously, my current tactics for getting close to people aren't working.


 

Today, I saw a friend I haven't seen in about 7 months, Ashlie. We met up for ice cream and talked for a good 45 minutes. It was nice. I haven't talked like that to anyone in a number of months. Well... I don't suppose Facebook chat counts? I still keep in touch with Katie over Facebook, and the best "conversations" I have are with her. Just yesterday, we were both reminiscing about our middle school days and how messed up they were. What was funny, though, was how the conversation began: I asked "What are you going to do?" and she responded with a number of things... Be lazy, look for a job, find a good grad school... and lastly, she said that she was going to "Discover the question." I asked, what question? She said, The answer is 42. What followed was us listing out the questions for which the answer was "42": 41+1, 21x2, 50-8, etc. It was totally random, but random is fun. I like random people who just go with the flow of things, even if what emerges sounds like nonsense. I do it with Mary all the time. And Mary's boyfriend, and a few other people. There are lots of them by now: "Moo" and "antisocial corner" and "purple" and "emo toast" and "Q", to name a few. I can't really explain them - they're like the number "42": they just emerged out of nowhere and somehow became some sort of inside joke. All one has to do is say "moo" for us to begin smiling.

I hope I find another friend like Katie this year at Santa Cruz. If nothing else, that would be fantastic.





 

Kevin is a funny guy. I sent him a text more than two weeks ago in a moment of boredom and got no response... and then, yesterday, out of the blue, I get a response. Apparently, his phone was off - for two weeks. And then he responds to a text that really only works if you reply within the hour. But *shrug* that's okay - I was happy for it anyway, to have someone to talk to for an afternooon, even if it is via text. I think it's safe to say that I have been apart from Kevin for so long that he's reverted back to friend. Which is good - I like friends.

This past week, I have read books... and books and books and books. I read some Vonnegut, the finale to one of my series, re-read a couple of old favorites... I read into the night, into the afternoon, at weird hours like I promised myself I wouldn't. I was determined to stay social, but in the end, I just couldn't resist reading just a few more chapters. So I have reverted back to my old, "at home" self: anti-social, laid-back, book-loving, night-owl. Emotionally detached and cool with the world. Annoyed with my family. Relaxed. Also cynical - I criticize myself.

However, I haven't reverted completely: I still go to the gym every other day, run, dance, hike, or some sort of daily exercise. Which is more than I can say I did last summer. In fact, this is the best physical shape I think I've ever been in. You can see my muscles when I flex them. The lines on my legs stand out when I walk. You can trace the muscles of my back. And there are even the beginnings of visible abs and a flat stomach. It's so nice. I love it and I love myself for doing it. All on my own.

I have also had an art relapse: me and my friend Jean had an art party that lasted not one, but two days. What does an art party consist of, you ask? Basically, the two of us sit at a table with pictures, paper, and our medium of choice (I chose white charcoal and black paper) and we force ourselves to draw. We have to do this together, in a art party, because when one tries to do it on one's own, one will almost certainly become distracted and the project will never be finished - or, if it is finished, it will be of shabby quality. The first day, we gridded and sketched and drew for 6 hours. The second day, we both managed to finish our respective projects after 4 hours. That's ten hours of drawing. And, trust me, that's about the average length of time that one needs to spend on a really good art project. Compared to other projects, 10 hours is short. But I finished it, and it looks killer good, so it was well worth the effort. What is it, you ask? It's fungi. Fungi that I found a few months ago in the ravine behind my apartment in Santa Cruz. I had gotten bored one afternoon while doing my laundry and thus, had grabbed my camera and climbed down into the ravine, taking pictures of anything that looked cool. The coolest thing I found was a bunch of fungi growing on top of a dead tree. So that's the picture I chose, when, 3 months later, I decide to have an art party. The result is a stunning piece of original art that carries the aura of Santa Cruz around with it. In short: it's awesome.

This weekend, instead of going on the family trip to Colorado river - AKA: 4 days of being trapped in an enclosed space with a screaming 8-yr-old to go to the surface of the sun - I am going to stay home and enjoy an empty house, air conditioning, loud music, and space. On Saturday, I will go to my Santa Cruz friend's pool party for the day, which should be fun. And then on Monday, I'll go to my grandma's house, spend the night, and, the next day, go kayaking with my aunt and the neighbor at Catalina Island - which is an awesome place to go kayaking. Also on Monday, my best friend returns from China - *happiness*. I can't wait to see her.

Finally, my summer is beginning to be interesting. My weeks of doing nothing are over!! I've been waiting for this all summer.

And then, on the 21st, my dad will take me up to Oregon, where my mom will pick me up for me to spend 3 weeks in Salem with her, my brother, my uncle and grandma. Oh, and don't forget the dog! After running around up there, my mom will take me straight back to Santa Cruz, where an awesome quarter with awesome classes and work and kayaking will FINALLY begin.

*phew* Man. If only I could skipped over the last two months...
 

So, I just got chewed out for "acting the parent" to my little step-sister who was being a huge brat. I had previously told her to be quiet because she was screaming in the car through a funnel directly into my ear. When she didn't shut up, I snatched the funnel from her. She immediately started crying and throwing a fit, which my dad ignored because, let's face it, she WAS being a noisy brat. So she was pouting and giving everyone evil, angry looks the entire time. Then we went to dinner where she refused to say anything nice, and scorned anyone who tried to talk to her. She got everything she wanted to eat, even when it was a pain in the ass to get for her. When the food came, she instantly wanted my french fries. When she asked me for some, she still had her mean, pouty, brat face on, and the cruel, ruthless tone of voice that had "I hate you" written all over it. So I told her: "No, I don't like to share with people who have pouty faces." I said it nicely, making it clear that all she had to do to get a french fry was to stop pouting. Instead, she started crying again, pitifully and with the full intent of making a scene. And it worked. My dad and step-mom give her everything. Knowing this, all she had to do was scream her head off for my dad to order her her own full plate of french fries, saying "Well, we have to fix the problem." I told him, quietly, "You shouldn't give her french fries for screaming, you should take her outside until she shuts up." He ignored me and she got what she wanted. Fed up with her, I asked for the car keys and went to read my books while they dealt with her by themselves. Later, only my dad came back. Turns out, Emily wanted to go to Jamba Juice. And, being the horrible parents that they are, my dad and Leah let her have it. I was disgusted.

Later, at home, my dad chewed me out for telling him what to do about his daughter's terrible behavior. He told me, and I quote: "She's not an adult, so we can't treat her that way." I thought: she's not an adult, that's why she needs to be TAUGHT how an adult should act... not given everything she screams for. If they started acting like parents, then I wouldn't have to do it for them. Teach your child to GROW UP. That's what I wanted to say. I can't even punish the child. It's the parents who are in the wrong. They don't teach her how to be a good child, which is why she's so god-awful rotten. Children don't become good on their own. You have to SHOW them what's good and what isn't. Currently, my parents are SHOWING her that she should cry and scream and pout to get what she wants. Which is exactly what she does.

I've had enough. There isn't much that can piss me off, but this is one of them. They'd better not leave her with me on our own, or they're going to come back to *gasp* me acting like the parent that they aren't. I know: scandalous! But there's no way I'd let her get away with even half of what they let her get away with. I would NEVER put up with that crap.

I'm missing my friend Mary like crazy. I wish she was here so badly. I wish I could at least hear from her more often. It's been a week and a half since the last email.

I talked to my orthodontist, and I will probably be getting my braces off near Thanksgiving. Which is so exciting because, let's face it, braces are not attractive at all. And even though I don't really need to be attractive, it's kind of nice to anyway. It's astounding, the difference between a pre-braces picture of me and a current one: I look SO much better without them. No joke. Even though, in my old picture, my hair is nasty and frizzy and sweaty from dancing, I still look better in that picture than I do in any braces picture. And it will be really nice to be able to eat any food I want with gusto without having to first cut it up into small pieces and then eat it carefully to avoid getting it stuck in my wires. And, well... I think I'll have a better chance with guys if I don't have a mouth full of metal. I'd like my first kiss, believe it or not, and I can't really imagine someone wanting to kiss someone with braces... seems awkward to me.

Whatever, I'm just hating the summer. I hate living at "home". I want to go back to Santa Cruz. That's much more of a home than "home" is. And it's a lot better for me. Peaceful, beautiful, active, alive, and full of friends and work. I love that school. I love that town. I love the people who go there.

I hate Newbury Park.

Rant, rant, rant, groan, whine, complain.

Okay, time to hit the gym. See ya.


 

The highlights a la Faceboook: during this past week, Katie:
         got rolled by a huge wave and lost part of her toe to a rock.
         has managed, through multiple layerings of slight sunburns, to acquire an oh-so-slight tan (amazing!!).
         realized... summer isn't that long. :D Thank god.
         is "writing a paper".
         bought some balloons to assauge her boredom... how cool am I?
         might be going to Santa Cruz this weekend!!! :D
         is bored, and thus, has decided to teach herself to cook. Beef stir fry and homemade chocolate chip pumpkin bread tonight. SOO full...

In other words, I had an opportunity to go to Santa Cruz with my friend Silvia to help her look for an apartment and got super excited about going up for the weekend... and then my friend reneged her invitation, and I got stuck at home with nothing to do but play with a pack of balloons that I bought for that purpose (I'm running out of entertainment ideas). Then I had to go to Longbeach with my family to visit my grandma, great-aunts, and aunt for a semi-boring visit which pretty much consisted of eating reminiscing. Sometime during that scintillating day, I wrote my last paper for summer school. Oh yes, and my little sister was singing Hannah Montana at full tilt ALL the way there and ALL the way back, 2 hours each way. I went to my last day of school, got my A, left, totally disgusted by the stupidity of the class - I swear, no one in the class knew how to write a simple paper. Then I realized that July is almost over, which means that it's almost August, which means that it's almost September which means that I'll be moving to Oregon and then Santa Cruz relaively soon. That made me happy. Then my dad took me on an impromptu trip tp Lake Pyramid to go jet-skiing yesterday. And today, I went to the beach with my friends, which is where I got rolled by a huge wave while frantically trying to swim back to shore, swallowed a giant gulp of sea water, and then lost a part of my toe when a rock ripped into it on the climb back to my car. Part of my toe nail is missing - in it's place is bloody flesh. Which ruins my plans of playing DDR, since that requires "being on one's toes".

Otherwise, there isn't much else to say. I miss my best friend, my college friends, and work. I hate it when my little sister is home (or anyone, really, for that matter). And all I want to do is go back to UCSC where you actually LEARN something at school and do WORK. Otherwise, I'm pretty content to just roll with the waves... literally and figuratively. Even when one hates the sun, one can't help but get out and accept it while it's there. There's not much else to do.

All I wanted to do when I got home today was kick back and enjoy the silence, perhaps watch a movie... but, of course, the moment I sit down to do so, my little sister gets home and the peace is shattered. I retreat to my own room reluctantly and with irritation... only to have my dad knock on my door and ask if they can come in and play their new video game, which they can only do in my room because the X-box is there. What I wanna know is, can't you move the X-box somewhere that isn't my personal space? I don't even have peace in my own room. I hate being at home. If I can even really call it that, since it doesn't really feel like one. I feel more homesickness for Santa Cruz than I ever did for Newbury Park... if I ever did in the first place, which I think not.

Anyways, "home" sucks. I would kill to go to Santa Cruz. And not just for Kevin. For everything. For school, for work, for the trees, for the beach, for the town itself... I love that place.

Sorry for the long interval between emails... sometimes I just don't feel like writing, especially during the summer when there's an emotional lull, and nothing ever really happens to illicit the kind of writing that I enjoy. I'm in limbo right now... just waiting for something to happen. All summer is to me is a test of my patience and tolerance for heat.
 

...Whoah, my face is numb;... So wierd....

..

[5:06 am]

So yeah, I totally failed at the whole "not puking" thing. 5 shots of Bacardi (rum) and two cans of Coke Zero, and I was fully drunk, stumbling around with a mild burning sensation in the pit of my stomach... which turned into nausea when I tried to walk into my room to go to sleep and the room started spinning. So I had to stumble to the bathroom and puke... which actually felt really good. And, as you can see from the drunken sentence above, after some point, near to the time I was almost finished with my 5 shots, my face went numb, which was interesting and a tad disconcerting.

After puking, I went to my bed to try and sleep it off... which failed abysmally because when I turned off the light, my head started spinning full-tilt. I felt like I was on one of those spinning rides at a carnival or something, even though I was lying down completely still. So I had to quickly turn the lights back on to get a point of reference so that I could minimize the spinning and, thus, the nausea. So I was on my bed with the lights on and my eyes partly cracked... at some point, I dozed off. I became conscious again at 3:45 am, at which point I was relatively sober again, thank god. I still felt a tad nauseous, but that was most likely from the burning from my first puke session. I walked up, took a bath, brushed my teeth, came downstairs, cleaned up the shot glass and stuff, and made myself some soup (I didn't really have dinner). And now it's 5:15 am, I feel a bit achy like one who has been sick with the flu, but not too bad, and I have to be at school in 5 hours. Yeah, bad move on my part for doing this during the school week. But it was kind of impulsive.

I did this mostly because it's summer, I don't have a way of talking to my best friend, and I've been feeling a great homesickness for Santa Cruz, which in part manifests itself in missing Kevin. Missing Kevin was exacerbated by watching Harry Potter 6, particularly the scene in which Harry and Hermione are sitting on the steps bemoaning the fact that they can't be with their loved ones. I know - pathetic, right? And the other part of my suddenly drinking was just being alone at night with nothing to freaking do and no one to freaking call, and a lingering desire and curiosity to be fully and completely drunk at some point in my life.

Well, at least now I know how far I can go, and how far I don't want to go: AKA, I probably won't be drinking again for a while, if ever. I just wanted to experience the full drunkenness before confirming what I had thought before: that alcohol is not very exciting, and I'd rather be stupid with my own, silly sober self.

And my roommates were right: when your head starts spinning, that's when you know you've gone too far. And if you ever reach that point, never turn off the light... that was bad. I felt like I was on some sort of spinning ride, even though I was lying down. At least with the light on, I could tell that I wasn't actually spinning.

And I should have done this on a day that wasn't before a school day. That would've been smart, too.

Anyways, hoping you're having a better night than I,

-Katie

p.s. - I have the song "My Life Would Suck Without You," by Kelly Clarkson, stuck in my head. I don't know if it was on the radio before I passed out or if it just popped up in my head, but that's what I'm sobering up to. Cheery, I know.
 

Nothing much to say this lovely night... I slept all day. I was up most of the night and part of the early morning writing a paper (AKA: talking to friends on Facebook, reading, writing) and so didn't get much sleep. I had told a friend the day before to meet me at my house after class so we could go hiking.. when she didn't show up, I decided that a "siesta" was in order. A siesta is an afternoon nap, often after a large lunch, a common practice in many cultures. Katie told me that yesterday. So I decided to do that, passed out the moment I hit the bed, and didn't wake up until 8pm.

Even though I didn't get much sleep during the night, I had interesting dreams... I dreamed that I knew I was going to die, so I went to a candy store and bought out their entire stock of dark chocolate - I guess I have a hankering for it?

I also dreamed that I called up my manager and got my job back and did really really well with it and was a pro at it and showed up my manager. And made lots of money. Which is fine, but in reality, I don't want that job back.

Yesterday, my aunt called and said she got her Cutco in the mail... she also speculated that she might take me on a kayaking trip around Catalina island, like a couple years ago. Which was INCREDIBLY fun. My aunt always knows how to have a killer time. So I'm really excited about that - I wasn't expecting to take any more trips this summer. Also, out of the blue, one of the people who lived in the apartment across from mine in college and once baked with me (I made scones, he made key lime pie, and we swapped food afterwards) invited me to his pool party in August. Which is really cool, and I really appreciate the invitation, even though I don't know him too well. So I'll probably go to that as well.

Otherwise, it's just nothing but free time until mid-August. I'm already struggling not to be bored out of my mind. The thing is, the only entertainment there is in Newbury Park is stuff you have to pay for... and I'm trying not to spend money. That limits things greatly. So I'm pretty much stuck at home, to go to the gym, hike, dance, bike, or jog... and after a while exercise gets tiring. I eat, read, and sleep... read some more, work out some more, read, write a little, spend a little time with friends (it's hard to spend time with friends without spending money - REALLY hard). I really, really, really miss Santa Cruz. There's so much to DO there! And it's not ten million degrees. What I wouldn't give to take off on one of my hikes around campus, under the trees... what I wouldn't give to take the BUS instead of driving. I could go to the beach, walk around downtown... see my friends without having to pick them up and drop them off. Damn, it would be nice. Maybe next summer I'll just stay up there - I bet it's beautiful.

Hmm... it seems I have aqcuired home-sickness in reverse. Interesting.
 

I keep imagining this moment: I bashfully look up at you, completely under your will, subjected to the power of your own emotions controlling me. I wait for you, for your response, like I always have. But this time, you know exactly what I'm about. This time, you catch a glimpse of exactly what I feel for you. You are shocked, stunned, held silent by your own swirling thoughts and emotions. All I can do is watch your face, and try and see from your still face what's happening beneath. What do you think? What do you feel? What will you do?

And, in a way, it's nice to be free - to have surrendered the moment to you, to be completely out of control of the situation rather than struggling to control every bit of it. It's a nice little freedom, but it comes with a price: I am at your mercy. I no longer have to struggle with my own life, but I have to deal with whatever life you choose to give me. Whatever answer you give.

I like you, I like you, I like you. My heart sings, my head chants, and every love song reinforces. I listen to the radio, hear a song about someone's love, think about forwarding the lyrics to you and seeing how you respond. Seeing if you get it. I think about posting a million things to your wall, a heart, a link, a message, a song, a video... anything with any hint of love in it. I am just itching to see what you would do with it. In a way, it would be exciting to make the first move - because then, the next one is up to you. I will have put you in a position where you have to do something, with me watching the whole time. And, well, I'm curious.

I'm this close to doing it.

And then what would you do? Would you respond? Call me? Message me back? Send me a question mark? Or would you hide behind distance? Would you dare to ignore me? What would you do when you saw my face for the first time afterwards? I'm insanely curious. I want to know. The funny thing is, I'd be totally willing to do this to any other guy. But not with you - no, I actually care about you.

*sigh* But who knows? Maybe one day, I'll crack. Maybe I'll press the send button one day, and it'll be gone, lost in cyber space forever, to land at your desk in your room at school for you open. And then it'll be done.

How do I tell you? How?

But why ask how, does it matter? Some say so. But it's the same message. Just an "I Love You" folded up into an "I Owe You" and sitting like a weight in my heart.

Guilty.