Howdy doody, mes amis! What a lovely day. A lovely day spent indoors submersed in Bravo. It's not my fault, they were playing all these interesting shows! I stopped on Queer Eye (because who doesn't love Queer Eye?), and then From Page to Screen was all about the making of LOTR (so, obviously I was hooked), and then Inside the Actor's Studio with Johnny Depp. Stupid Bravo, they always make me into a couch potato.
But, of course, I really wish I were outside making something useful out of my time. But Mum's at class all day long today, and my brother hit an all time low blood sugar-wise (he's diabetic), so there was a little problem there. I rushed to find him an orange juice to bring him up, but I couldn't find any. I grabbed him a Glucerna shake and he hated it but sucked it down while I shuffled through the fridge for some juice. He, being completely unaffected by everything, pointed it out to me, I yelled at him to sit down because he shouldn't be walking around lowering his sugar count, and he drank the orange juice while I made him an early lunch. Then we sat down and watched people make fun of Elijah Wood's fashion taste on VH1's Best Week Ever, then Bravo, and here I am, all strung up on no food and a whole lotta Tolkein. I'm a floggin' nutcase!
My head aches and my hair's a mess. I shouldn't let it curl so often, the next day it's just phoosh, everywhere! No matter what I do, I still look like I licked a lightsocket. And then everyone tells me how nice I look when I let my hair do its natural thing! Sometimes straightening it just takes too long in the morning. Especially when a good rock'n'roll song isn't on to blowdry my hair to. It's one of my favourite things to do: blowdry my hair in my pjs to some good ol' rock'n'roll. It's my little oddity, I suppose. Everybody's got something, right? My thing's just a little... different... than what yours might be. But, hey, whatever floats my goat.
I completely forgot where that one came from, but it's nice.
Alright, alright. Now on to more serious matters: I'm a little more than, hmm, angry or upset about something. Awhile ago I was invited to a birthday party. Now, it was for a friend that was turning 17, but the thing was, I had just bought her a present for her 16th birthday a few months before. I have no idea what's up with her birthday timing, but I didn't want to go to her party. Number one: I'm not a big partier. Number two: She doesn't seem to like me all that much, anyway, I'm just sorta an afterthought to her. Number three: Mum has nightclasses. Every night. All night. I have to be home to take care of my little brother, he can't do it all on his own. So I turned her down, and like the good friend she is, she was completely and manically bitter. So, yesterday she brought pictures of the party to school and showed them around to all those that went. Not to me. She specifically excluded me, and when I asked if I could see them, she's like, "No, you didn't go."
Nice friend, huh? I hadn't bought her a present for two specific reasons: Number one: I don't have the time or the means. I never get out of the house. Number two: I had just bought her one not long ago. But now she's not getting anything. Nothing. Because why the heck should I care about her when she doesn't care about me? I mean, I can understand being upset that someone didn't go, she's moving soon, but I didn't have a choice, and for all I care, she can go. I don't like saying that about people, but she's awfully rude to be a friend. She's one of those people that say, "Haha, you're so stupid," in a quasi-truthful self-praising kinda way, and then she'll grab your arm and say, "But I love you." And I don't need it.
Well, now that that's off my chest... what would this world be without teenage angsty drama? I suppose true good friends are really hard to come by. I'm glad to say that I've made a few in my sixteen (nearly seventeen, thag you very buch!) years of life experience. But I've learned that no matter who dumps on you when you've trusted them, family's there. That means Mum and Ben and my two pet dogs. Unconditional love and support no matter what goes on, and that's why I don't mind helping out at all. I prefer sacrificing a social life for a family life, even if I'm waiting on my brother hand and foot.
You know, I was never one of those preteens that hated their parents and pretended the world hated them. I'm not a people hater, I love people, I just (and this is going to sound so mummy and daddy) don't love their actions. I also really love chocolate, especially when I'm post-msing. And I love shopping and drawing and writing and learning and reading and playing music. Yup. Coughcoughlosercoughcough!
I could go for some chocolate... nice chocolate... mmm mmm good. But, no. None for me. I can't have any because I've already had some. Actually, that's about all I've had today. Let's see... milk, potato salad, and chocolate. Yep. I had milk for breakfast, a spoonfull of potato salad for lunch, and a bit of chocolate just a minute ago. That's the extent of it. And I woke up feeling really, inexplicably bad. My throat was all scratchy, and last night I was soooo tired! I fell asleep at 9 o'clock on the couch with a splitting headache. Those exams have got me stressed to the point of death, I suppose. I'm glad they're almost over. One more on Monday, and I'm good. Like buttah. Or chocolate. And here we go: Ben already made fun of everything I like ("Why do we have to sit through this acting stuff, anyway? Can't you grow up and get a real life?" real nice after all the stress I went through this morning), but now he's trying to force me to play video games. I love video games, don't get me wrong. I don't want to play them right now. I want to type and "get out these unvoiced thoughts."
Look at me, I'm so abnormal. It's like that feeling that I sometimes get when I realise, as if it were the first time, how tall I actually am. I mean, I'm six feet tall, but I've always been taller than everybody else. I'm the tallest in my orchestra, I'm the tallest in my house, I'm the tallest of my friends, but I never really think about it. When I put on heels and stand next to people, sure it's weird that they don't reach my shoulders, but it never strikes me as odd. But sometimes it, like a stack of bricks flung from a car window, strikes me and leaves me dumbfounded. "Hey, I don't have to stand on my tippy-toes to see over the crowd like they do..." and it's gone in a flash, and I feel normal again. It's a most strange feeling, I assure you. A feeling quite applicable to about every aspect of life. "Wow, it's so effortless to breathe, but every breath I take sustains me..." I'm a weird thinker, if you can really call that thinking... I just call it caffiene-induced splurts of randomness. I suppose that's a fitting title.
Slow days create slow ways, and I'm here slowly typing to a non-existant audience. Saturday's not supposed to be slow, but it is. Mum'll be home in two hours, and she's always so tired after class. She's giving a speech on diabetes today and she called to say that the class and teacher were quite impressed. I'm so proud of Mum, she's one of the most brilliant people I think I'll ever get to know. No matter how big I get, how many people I meet, I don't think I'll ever come across someone like her. Anything I've ever seen her do is perfect. When I took up art in place of drama (stupid block scheduling preventing my dreams from manifestation...), she thought I was the schiznit. But I always felt like I'd never be as good a painter or drawer as she, because she could have, sincerely, gone professional. She coulda been the next Andy Warhol. She is able to be a Physicist, anything she wants she could do. I wish I could say I was that creative or that talented. I'm just a schmuck with a whole lot of dreams and nothing for backup.
And Monday brings a whole new set of problems. New classes... pain and misery! NOOOOO!!! But we begin a new section in AP English. I think we might even delve into linguistics, which really makes me excited. I have to find a book a friend told me about, all about accents. I love different accents, and I think my fake ones aren't quite up to par. I can mimick them, but it doesn't sound natural on me, it sounds like... Orlando Bloom in Black Hawk Down. I want to be more like Ewann McGregor in Black Hawk. And linguistics is soooo neat! All those different meters and things that I have to master if I want to take film classes... at least I find it interesting! I love language, words have such a powerful impact on people. Like my friend who says, "You're so stupid," and laughs off the pain. People can say that words get boring, they can poo-poo my entries as too much time, but words never grow tiring to me. And they never will! From their meaning to the feeling they create, the way people say them and the way people react, and then capturing the effect of words into words like a never ending cycle is always and foremost my passion.
And that's why my friends hate me. They'll never understand, I guess. I doubt that there are a lot of people that will. *smiles* I'm all alone in the world, my dark little corner, brooding in books and movies, and *giggles* no one loves me... Haha, I love life, innit great?
Well, speaking of life and my lack of one, I best be off. I promised my brother I'd play Sims. I remember how I felt when he said, "This acting stuff is stupid," and I don't want him to feel that way by putting down his passions in video games. I think I have a house to decorate, anyway!
Au revoir, mes amis!
Toodles! (And today's title is via Will & Grace, meh favourrrite television show in existence...)