Missing Him Tonight

I had a hard time freshman year. In fact, saying it was hard is probably an understatement. I felt safe with Bryar, like if I fell backwards he'd be there to catch me. And he was. He saved me from myself twice. I would not be here today if he hadn't been at the right place at the right time with the right words. He was someone I related to, someone I could look up to. During that year, he was the closest thing I had to a brother. There were some times when we weren't very close (spring break comes to mind), but for the most part, he was there. In that point in time, that was what I needed: his friendship.

There was a time where things were real good. He was someone to talk to. He made me laugh. I actually smiled around him. I remembered how to care. I told him everything. Even if I didn't want him to know, somehow I wound up telling him. If we were both on Facebook, we were probably talking. If he saw me in the hallways, he'd lightly punch me to say hi. He'd do things in class to make me happy, actually happy. Everything was okay when I was with him. He knew my moods and he said what I needed to hear when I was upset. It seemed like it'd go on forever. In the back of my mind, however, was the reminder that he was a senior. He would graduate at the end of the year.

Somewhere along the line I changed. I started caring more what others thought of me, especially when he and his girlfriend Jenn started having serious issues. I realized that while he'd be gone at the end of the year, Jenn and her friends would not. I got it in my head that I needed to distance myself from him before they broke up so that no one would think it was because of me. When it finally happened, I realized me distancing myself just didn't work, and that I was wasting my last few weeks with him.

I made the most of those weeks, and we kept in touch for the better part of the summer. Once school started, something changed. I got touchier, and he started ticking me off more. I also started pushing more when he let on that something was wrong, which only caused him to pull away. Now we barely talk. I think about him a lot. There are certain songs I won't listen to, certain places in the library I avoid at all costs. He was my best friend for quite a bit of time, and I lost him. But I'll heal. And maybe one day I'll get on Facebook and receive the instant message I miss: "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S YOU!"

Anyways, next post will be about why it's been, what, a month? since I last posted.

Newness and Smallness and Purple

I'm typing this sitting in my sister's closet in Leonard's new condo. I would be in my own closet, but the inspector is using it because it has the only portal to the attic. I definitely feel totally epic right now. I'm sitting in a closet, blasting David Bowie and eating Twizzlers. You can't get any better than that. See, I'm like the exact opposite of claustrophobic. I'm, like, a claustrofile. So I like closets.

My room, affectionately dubbed The Poop Room because of its color, is the smallest. About five eight-to-fives (each 22 1/2 inches long) each way. I'm gonna repaint it, probably a light purple, and I think I'll bring the old curtain from our house. I don't use it anymore because of the placement of my bed. I kept stepping on it and eventually broke the rod. The curtain's still fine. I might get a purple one instead. The Poop Room doesn't have a light fixture yet. I want one of those big purple lamps. I also want an air mattress instead of a real bed, and I want a little purple reading lamp next to it. I don't want or need a big dresser like at the house. I'll be here maybe every other weekend at the most. Depends. I might get a little dresser, or none at all. I'm not going to have anything on the floor of my closet. Everything'll be up on the shelves.

I'm having fun thinking about decorating The Poop Room. I decorated my room when I was eleven. I've changed a lot since then, and so have my tastes. I don't want the blue and clouds stuff anymore. I don't want the expensive furniture in the big room. I want the simple stuff in the small room. When we moved into our house, I picked my room because it was the biggest (and it was the only one facing the backyard, but whatever). I picked The Poop Room because it was the smallest. Also, it's not shaped like a rectangle. The closet is in the room, so it's got a little bit jutting out and it has an inverted angle or whatever they're called. It's kinda like a little hallway leading to my room. It's only a foot long, but it's enough so that if I sit in the corner away from the door, you have to take a couple steps into the room before you can see me. Funny how stuff like that makes me happy.

Signing off and thinking about "Things To Do in a Dark Closet,"
~LeeLee~

Band Camp: Day Two

Screw band politics. Screw being nice. And you know what? Screw Jenn.

We claimed freshmen yesterday, and nobody wanted this girl named Sarah, so I took her. I wanted a freshman, I didn't care what she was like. I've been dreaming about this since band camp last year. I wanted to be to some little freshman what my upperclassmen friends were to me. I met Sarah, and I liked her. Jenn was stepping on my toes about her, but I was ignoring that. Until today.

We're supposed to have a pencil at every rehearsal. I had one in the morning, but it was in my denim shorts pocket and I changed to my other shorts at the last minute for the evening session (denim's not comfortable in ninety degree weather when you're marching), and I forgot to grab the pencil. We were writing on our charts (kind of like blueprints for where we need to be on the field) how to get from one spot to another. I was afraid to ask Mr. Wittman for one because of the fact that the social anxiety makes me terrified to call attention to myself like that. Jenn had already written everything on her own time, so I asked if I could borrow her pencil. She grudgingly let me have it. I mean, it's not like I let her share my pencil last year or anything. I set it down for a second so I could flip the chart over and she snatched it away. Sarah saw this, and offered me her pencil. Mr. Wittman saw Sarah without a pencil, and so he asked if she needed one. She said "No, I have one. We're sharing mine." And he gave me a pencil. Later, we were exiting the auditorium when Jenn passed me and said something like "Not my fault. I thought you were done."

This would've been something I could've let slide if it had stopped there, but it didn't. Later, Jenn and Sarah and the other sophomore, Meghan, were standing in a circle and talking about something and laughing. I couldn't hear all of it, but I caught enough bits and pieces to know they were talking about the pencils, and now Sarah's completely ignoring me. And Adam, my section leader, knows about my stomach issues and that they get worse when I get hot, and he would periodically turn around and fan me. Every. single. time. he did that, Jenn called him over because she "needed help." If I was a bolder person, I would have said "All you need is a punch in the mouth" or something to that effect. Of course, me being me, I didn't do that. I just kept quiet.

So half my section hates me so far. Whitney, the other freshman, is likely to go over to the dark side soon, because she and Sarah are really good friends. And I'm the one who brought cookies yesterday! All I'll have left is Adam and Maya. Of course, if I could choose which two would be on my side, it'd be those two because they're my section leaders :D

My Aunt Terri is telling me to kill them with kindness, but I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if it's even worth it. It won't work, that I know. I've been nothing but kind and helpful to Sarah the past two days, even after she stopped talking to me. It takes too much effort to be kind to Jenn. I don't want to do it anymore. I don't see the point of it. She's going to hate me no matter what, so why bother?

Signing off, pissed and devastated,

~LeeLee~

Band Camp: Day One

It's that time of year again, people. Time to dig out the lyres and dust off the instruments and make innuendos and crack inside jokes that must be explained to the freshmen. Time to sweat off ten pounds and march until your feet are sore and watch the saxophones wrestle and break in the new drum majors. That's right, band camp has started for the Yellowjacket Marching Band.

This year's show is called "Phantom of the Piano Studio." It's a bunch of well-known piano songs, many of which you hear when a piano is present and someone who really plays is not. Don't ask me names, because the only one I knew the name of was Fur Elise, and that's because that's my favorite piano song. The rest were stuff you hear in cartoons and commercials and stuff. And it's all jazzy and it's got random weird noises and it's amazing. Next time I'll post a link so you can listen to it if you want.

So today was, well, it was difficult. I got sick, I mean literally sick, during the morning session. And it really really sucked because TODAY OF ALL DAYS, Bryar decided to come visit band camp and I didn't notice him until I was running for the toilet. And we didn't really get to talk because of stupid band politics.

Band politics means that I cannot piss off a girl like Jenn, who is Bryar's ex. It was a hard breakup, and I got dragged into the middle of it. ("You're leaving me for her, aren't you?") Okay. Yes, I had a huge crush on Bryar at one point. Yes, Bryar and I are/were (complicated) really close. But come on, girl. Would he really leave you for me? Even if I would take him? Because, you know, I'm sooo much more beautiful and brighter and bubblier than you, and I can definitely see a guy like Bryar leaving you for me. But I have to stay on her good side from now on. I finally got back on it. But if she were to see us hugging or being the really good friends we are, she'd get pissed. And if Jenn gets pissed, not only does she hate me, but all her friends hate me too. I don't need half the band hating me. Plus, even worse, she and Bryar's so-called "friends" that she has wrapped around her finger will take it out on him.

But there were some times where today was good, and all because of Moxi. Today was my first time seeing her since the fourth of July. It was wonderful. We were watching the senior march-off, and the stomach pain got so bad I started crying. She said "What hurts?" in that soft voice she reserves for when I'm really upset. It kinda made me cry harder because 1) I've missed her so much, and 2) it reminded me of the other times she's used it to calm me down. And then there was the ride home from the night session.

We were giving her a ride home like we'll do most, if not all, nights this week when we noticed her dad's car in front of us. We both shouted "Follow that car!" Mom did, real closely and creeperly like we told her. Her dad made a different turn than he was supposed to in order to get to their house, and Moxi shouted "Speed up! Beat him to the house!" So Mom did. Her dad pulled around the corner reallllly slowly and drove past our car. While he was doing that, Mom opened the door on Moxi's side and she popped out. Her dad had been totally freaked. I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard or felt like such a stalker. It was great.

So tomorrow (or later today, depending on how you look at it) is Day Two. I want to talk about how badly I feel about the fact that Moxi was horribly miserable, and what I did once I was home, but I gotta be up in five hours for more marching, so I'll save that for next time.

Signing off exhausted, but feeling okay,
~LeeLee~

I'M GOING TO GO INSANE!

I'M GOING TO GO INSANE!

My mom and stepdad are getting a divorce, and my mom's cousin and her eleven year old daughter Hannah are moving in, but first we're doing a trial period. And I like Hannah. I really do. She's sweet, and kinda fun. But she's starting to get on my nerves.

I barely get any time to myself. Like, at all. She's always there. And if she's not, she's texting me. Including right now. And on Sunday, I told her I was talking on the phone with my dad, and she kept texting me "where r u?" "wat r u doin?" "r u done yet?" I NEVER should have shown her that texting app for the iPod. I'm on total social overload! I can't be around people twenty-four/seven! It's just not who I am. I'm not anti-social or anything, but even when I have friends over, I need to take little breaks every now and then.

Second off, there are these seemingly little things that kind of tick me off. I mean, yeah, they're stupid stuff, but they're driving me nuts. My inner Grammar Nazi is going crazy, for one. And she took a shower earlier... Left her hair in the drain, left the bath mat down so it can mold, stood on the rug while drying off (this I know because it's been hanging up for an hour and a half and STILL wet), left the shower curtain open so that can mold, too... She even almost sat in my seat in the car. That is a big no no. Everybody in the family knows that you do NOT sit in my seat unless I've got shotgun. I don't adjust well to changes like that. I sit in the middle row passenger side seat. Always. She tried to take it. I know this is irrational and what not, but remember, I'm not one-hundred percent sane. It's not my fault that these things drive me batty. She also tried to eat my poptarts. Okay, there are four different kind of poptarts in there, girl, and you picked from the only box I can eat (not even because of flavor, but because of my stomach problems)???

And I don't get the time with my mom like I used to. I'm really close to my mom, and I need my one-on-one time with her. I haven't had any since Saturday. Like, at all. It sucks, to say the least.

Now, with all that said, I want Hannah and Terri to move in. It's what's best for everybody. My mom needs financial help. Terri needs a place to live and someone to help discipline Hannah. Hannah's an only child who's really overweight and doesn't have a lot of friends, and she needs to go to the middle school I went to so at least she can have the amazing teachers I did. My sisters need somebody else to hang out with because I can't stand them 98% of the time because they're so much like their dad.

Signing off to tell Hannah yet again that I'm going to bed and she needs to STOP TEXTING ME,
~LeeLee~

Dragon Tears

Dragon Tears

I recently purchased a bag of so-called "accent gems," just because of
the memories they brought back. They're these little round blue gems.
I've always called them dragons' tears. I found one once in my
friend's backyard, and her older sister told me that if someone finds
a dragon's tear, that meant there was a dragon who was admiring that
person from where they lived, and was crying because they couldn't be
together. She told me a story about the dragons, which I've been
thinking of a lot today and feel like sharing. This isn't quite the
story she told me, I've forgotten bits and pieces and so I'm
embellishing a little bit, but the main parts stay the same.

The dragons once lived among us humans. They would watch over the
children of the world like guardian angels and play with them. They
would help the women with their cooking and finding edible plants.
Then the men discovered how nice dragon flesh tasted. The women and
children pleaded with the men not to kil the dragons, but the hunters
would not be reasoned with. The dragons did not come out from hiding
very often, and so over time, people began believing that they were
merely a myth. Those who did still believe had become convinced by
their ancestors that dragons were horrible creatures to be slaughtered
and eaten. So the dragons left the earth to live in another realm.
Many of them were homesick, so the king of the dragons ordered his
spellcasters to create a pool that the dragons could look through to
watch over the humans. Sometimes, the male dragons, especially the
young ones, will see a girl that they admire, and often fall in love
with. When a dragon falls in love with a human, it's not like when
humans fall in love. Dragons fall in love selflessly. All they want is
for the human to be safe and happy. The dragon will become glued to
the pool like so many of our kind become glued to the tv screen and
begin to cry. Dragons do not cry as we do. Their tears are rarely
existent, and when they are, they become solid the second they drip
off of the dragon's scales. Sometimes, if a tear falls just right, it
slips through the pool and is found by the one whom the dragon admires.
The story was once told to a woman a long time ago. There was a
dragon who was so in love with this woman and such an adept
spellcaster that he was able to visit her in her dreams and he told
her the history of the dragons. He told her that if enough people knew
the true story, and not what the hunters passed along, that the king
might allow the dragons to once again roam the earth, and they could
be together. The woman spread the story, but unfortunately she died
before the dragons could be returned to earth. Still to this day, the
real history of the dragons is not well known enough for them to feel
safe returning. Those of us who believe try to pass this story along
as much as we can, in hopes that one day, at least our children's
children will play with the dragons again.

I believe. I found the dragon's tear from so long ago, and compared it
to the ones I bought. If I am not mistaken, they are made of
completely different substances. In fact, the old dragon's tear
doesn't seem to be made of the same substance as anything I have...
It's nice to think that there's a dragon in love with me.

Comment, tell me what you think.

Signing off,
~LeeLee~

One, Two, Freddy's Coming For You

One, two, Freddy's coming for you
Three, four, better lock your door
Five, six, grab your crucifix
Seven, eight, better stay up late
Nine, ten, never sleep again

Three guesses as to what I was just forced to watch. The only reason I
went along with it was because it had Johnny Depp in it. And I lost
interest when he died. It was an okay movie. Not horribly terrifying
as you watch it. Made me jump maybe three times. However, I may have
some trouble falling asleep tonight. Not that that's any different
from normal. And the nightmares won't be any different from normal
either. Maybe a little scarier...

Last night the nightmare was about this plane, and it was on fire, and
it crashlanded in the middle of the high school football field, and it
exploded, and somebody pulled me out of the way. I enjoy my dreams
with people I don't know in them... Gives me an idea for a story...

Say this girl (could be a guy, too, and all the genders could revrse,
but I think it'd be better if the MC was a girl) keeps having these
dreams every night. They're not her normal dreams. Before, her dreams
were things she would almost remember in the morning, but the harder
she tried, the more they slipped away. No, these dreams she can
remember every detail of in the morning, as clear as if they had
actually happened. And there's this person, this guy, who is in every
single one of these dreams. They start off as nightmares, but he
always saves her at the last second and it becomes a pleasant dream.
And maybe she starts falling in love with this guy. And her friend's
over one night and she has the dream and the nightmare part wakes her
friend up, and so she wakes the MC up. MC gets really mad because she
didn't get to see the guy, and she yells at her friend and tells her
to never wake her up when she's having a nightmare. And then they both
go back to sleep. Then, a couple weeks, months, years, whatever,
later, the friend's over again and the MC starts having a nightmare
and the friend gets woken up but she just sits there and the MC dies.
The end.

Okay, so maybe my mind's still on the movie.

Signing off,
~LeeLee~