sit down. shut up. read. it's time for a history lesson.

Yesterday: Bonnie's house after her birthday dinner.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Bonnie all over Henry. Right next to me on the couch. RIGHT. NEXT. TO. ME. Or at least, I think I do.
It's pretty much safe to say that I'm freaked out because I never would have imagined such a thing; he's practically her slightly younger brother. So I turn to take a proper look.
They're not doing anything like I thought they were.
In reality, Bonnie is trying to force his arm around me and he's giving her a good fight for control of his own arm.
"What the fuck?" I laugh semi-nervously. I laugh because I'm hoping Bonnie won't try to hook me up with Henry like she's done with Carly and Nicole. Nicole, luckily, dodged that bullet at the last minute.
I kind of feel sorry for Henry, seeing as Bonnie has put it up to herself to find him girlfriends, but I feel even more sorry for me.
I love hanging out with these guys. I have a tiny story with almost everyone in the room. Most of the guys are up playing Wii, and I'm sitting back, relaxed on the couch wondering why it took me so long to realize what being a teenager is really like.
With Henry, well... He stood up for me [out of pity, I'm sure] when Tony made fun of me on my birthday. He was really nice and made Tony call me afterwards and apologize. How sweet.
Tony---was an ass at first. But he turned out to be the sweetest, seemingly-ten-but-really-fourteen-year-old kid that I know. Despite making me almost cry on my birthday, I have decided that I like him. I'm weird like that. I sit next to him sharing time with Bonnie's new puppy. Both of us want to take him home with us.
Tony's older brother Mike is such a player. He's the one I'm most wary of. He will hit on anything with a two legs and vagina. Not kidding. And to this, there is no exception. On my birthday I seemed to be his main target. The new girl. Yaaaayyy. Uh, no. He's the one I hear most stories about, like hitting on a twelve-year-old and trying to get a ten-year-old's number. He just seems really....horny. With anger issues. He tries several times to get my attention. To at least look at him. Mostly because his locker is next to mine and all year I have avoided him like the plague. Yeah, that's right. I haven't said one word to him all year.
Then we have Eddie. A graduate of Player Academy. He's new. He's barely started----but making good progress. Eddie went to the Model UN conference with me and Bonnie. Although he wasn't in our group, we did kind of dance with him at the dance. Well. Bonnie did.
Strange thing about dancing. Whenever I see a guy alone on the dance floor, I instantly feel sorry for him. Ideally I'd go an dance with them but seeing as I lack major security in that area, I usually pull one of my girls and push them to him. So. I pushed Bonnie to Eddie. Now, he turns around making the weirdest face every times he wins on Wii because he knows it cracks the shit out of me.
Then...let's see. I scan over the room and see Olly. Olly is actually Hispanic, but appears Filipino. He's also Bonnie's boyfriend. He's super nice...when he wants to be. The friendliest of the bunch, I have to say. But Bonnie spends a lot of time yelling at him. He's whipped. Right now, he's wrestling Mike and I know I'm not the only one uncomfortable watching this.
And then the only black guy and possibly my best friend in the room: J. He's hyper, funny, strange...and a black skate border. I love him. Just, you know, not in that way.
Scan, scan, scan. I'm forgetting someone, I know...
Oh yes. Three girls I've never talked to.
In truth, I'm perfectly relaxed here. The only thing I really worry about---the only thing I EVER worry about is the questions....There's a point when the energy drinks wear off and everyone can't wrestle, or compete on Wii and everyone just crashes on the couches....That's when the conversations start. And the questions.
My most dreaded reaction is a conversation that will eventually lead to this being thrown at my face:
"You've never had a boyfriend? Or made out? Or ANYTHING?"
Nope. I look like I have, right? I also convinced people I was a pot head without meaning to, when in reality I'm a good girl.
Thankfully I make an excuse to leave when the first signs of dying energy appear. I'm disappointed that I left at nine, but also pretty content with how my night was. It was...tight.

i hate to like them.

Let's start off with what's fact:
I have an obsession with everything Disney, but have recently found myself stalking people stalking Disneyland characters, video taping the stalks and posting them on Youtube. Mhm.
And all the while I can't help thinking of how much I hate and detest the girls who do it.
They walk around all buddy-buddy with the characters playing along, laughing, making jokes...
How I'd like to ring their little heads off.
And yet...
DAMMIT, I like them. I mean as people, they seem like just the right amount of dork mixed with sanity for me to be awesome friends with them. 'They' [I quote because as of now I'm not sure how many there are...so far I can confirm only two.] visit Disneyland EVERY Sunday and stalk my favorite characters.
Especially Peter Pan.
Epic Peter Pan.
A specific guy plays him that catches the attention of many, many girls. And I'm one of them. I practically SWOON every time I see him in a video.
Creepy, right? Wait. There's more.
So out of pure determination to find a reason to hate these girls I search their deviant pages, livejournal, wordpress, whatnot...
They're me.
I can't hate them for their art. They're damn good. I can't hate them for their ability to visit the park every week. I live on the other side of the country, they live fifty miles from the park. I can't hate them for liking the same things I like or for playing along with the characters that I wish to meet or anything.
Because if I did, that would mean admitting that I have no life except cyber-stalking these girls I seriously want to be.
Even if it might be true.





UBERFREAKINSIGH.
This post will most likely be deleted. But I felt like ranting. So there you go.

why you should follow me.

I'm not just any blogger.
I'm THE blogger.
You know, the one that can't make up her mind about what race she looks like.
The neurotic teenager who gives dating advice to unsuspecting [or possibly too nice to mention] friends when she's never had a boyfriend.
The one who recently signed up for Youtube in attempt to find a new way to vent strange thoughts, but all too quickly realized it would take more time that she cared to share.
The art chick in that one documentary about the average American teen.
The one that writes stories, draws, paints, colors, sculpts and likes to pretend she's bad ass because she has an opinion when in reality she's really just a shy, chicken-shit introvert that spends way too much time watching and quoting Communitychannel.
Unique in her own way because she lives in such a small redneck town where she's starting to realize that she's not white and the reason everyone stares at her when she walks in is because they're all wondering if she can speak English.
Yeah. That's right. I'm THAT blogger.
The one you just realized has serious problems and are probably going to stay away from.
God, I suck.
And to my current six followers, if you're still following me that is, thank you!
:]

i'm gonna sound like a conceited bitch for a second...

I have always been afraid of a specific thought that I've always, always, always had. I've been afraid that if I said anything or even thought about it, it would never happen, for it is so fragile and delicate for me that I'm afraid I will jinx my luck and I will die without fulfilling this one great and over-powering desire of mine. Like the title says, I'm about to sound like a very conceited bitch for a second with my following statement:
I am going to be famous and adored some day.
And it's going to be for one of these reasons:

My writing,
My art,
My videos,
My acting,
or my massive movement
that brought tons of people together for a day of peace and faith in humanity
that no one will forget.

I know that these could be easily misinterpreted as things I wish I would be famous for one day. And they might as well be. But I can not deny myself the truth---- I wish to inspire many, many people. Of course it will be a long time before I can 'stumble' upon a huge JK Rowling effect and will have to settle with trying to motivate and inspire just one person at a time.
Now, I wonder.... I wonder if it's true. JK Rowling, Jamie Tworkowski, The Beatles, Stephanie Meyer and other people like Miley Cyrus, or the Jonas brother (just to name a few examples) etc., all have said that they never expected the fame that they have received.
I don't expect it. But I do wish for it.
My main focus has been writing, though. Ever since the third grade I remember writing. And I did it for the same reason that I began to draw---it made me popular.
Perhaps that's why I want to write. Looking for completion, looking for insight. Yes, yes I know I'm only 17 and I have much more to go before I can really see the big picture of life, but...
I like to think of myself as special. Different. Destined to be something great in society. Maybe I think this just to get myself through each day and the fakeness I endure. The circus that is life in high school.
I love the laughing. I love the picture taking. I love the partying, the texting, the social networks and the dating factor...but I search for something so deep and strange that I'm almost completely certain that I'm going to be great.
I mean, I just feel so lonely, like such an oddball----I must be like this for a reason. Well, the way my mind works anyway. On the outside I'm putting up a front like everyone else. Just trying to get by.
What will be of my life when I graduate? Ideally I'd be off to art school somewhere out of state. Fall in love. Be inspired. Write/draw. Become the next JK Rowling in the matter of success and maybe not so much in the way that she is amazing...
But I know, I can feel it.
It's... it's the yearning that I feel. It will not promise me an answer to this question, a filler to this hole, a line for the t, a dot for the i.... but my yearning will keep me going. And for now, that's all I need.