What the HELL is this blog about?

Hi. I consider myself hispanic. I act white. It's something I've learned to live with.
My blogs tell the story of an incredibly awkard, shy, neurotic, hispanic-white-acting, boyfriendless seventeen-year-old trying to fit into the world of being a "normal" teenager.... in a very, very white town.

Friday, October 15, 2010

exoctic tea parties, perverts, sex, and highlighters.

I couldn't imagine fufilling the expression "Keep your friends close but your enemy closer" any more than I am now without actually doing some physical harm to make it even MORE true. If any of that makes sense.
I can't tell if I'm feeling disgusted right now because it's morning and I haven't eaten yet or because of what happened last night. I think it's a little bit of both.
So last night after another night of wandering the city and asking myself why I continously invite people that I KNOW will bother me, we went back to Ingrid's dorm and played the game "Pervert" in which you confess what you've done and therefore move closer and closer to the middle of the board labeled "Pervert" and if you get there first, well, you win. I was totally ready to lose.
Surprisingly I didn't. :O Which, if you've played this game [totally bought in a porn store that we checked out while roaming downtown] you would know that this means you've at least experienced SOMETHING. And one again: I...don't really think I have. Unless I've had like an outer body experience or something.
And because my mind is strange in so many ways, all I could compare it was an "exotic" tea party [though there was no tea], later to be followed by drawing on each other with highlighter under a black light.
ANYHOO. The learning new things about people [like the fact that most were totally not virgins and maybe only three of us actually were [[there were twelve of us]], or that Victoria had a hell of a lot more sexual experience than most of us, or that the cutesy Ingrid wasn't so innocent at all, or the fact that Sullie really IS a sort of sexual deviant as I had suspected before] wasn't as bad as having to deal with Victoria.
She's my frenemie. She might already know this, she might not. IDK and IDGAS.
She's the type of girll who will definitely defend her friends till that end and this I admire most about her. She's loyal and loving and sweet and adorable...but she's also an attenion seeker.
Not to say that I'm not, but her personality being so dominating seems to always be pushing me away from the lime light which always reached ME first [after Ingrid of course, because DUH, Ingrid is the best. Semi sarcasm there, but mostly truth...and that's what's sad about it.] and so she MUST have it.
For example: Sullie departed from the group, sat alone and I went to talk to him. She came running up saying, "Oh, Sullie! Don't be alones!" And her ginourmous boobs totally threw me quite a few feet away from both of them. Literally. No joke. I was close to giving him a hug and then here she comes and shoves me away. With. Her. Boobs.
Kind of like what she did with Audrey [without the boobs]. She started flirting with him and grabbing his attention as much as she could after we had kind of hit it off [as friends].
But the thing that bothered me most was when it came to Sullie.
Actually, I think I should just dedicate a whole post to Sullie. But it might be too late for that.
Let me explain about Sullie:
He's twenty-one.
He's thin.
He looks like Shaggy off of Scooby Doo.
He looks eighteen and LOOKS/ACTS innocent but is actually a total shaggster. This adds to his appeal for some reason.
And I like him. I do. A lot.
But ever since day one I've been able to show everyone how much I like them. Except him. For some reason or another. Maybe because he was intimidating in that "Shit, he keeps catching my glances" way.
It's strange how my feelings work for him. It's like when we're around a group of people and their attention is away from him and I totally have a chance get closer to him, I throw it away. And when we're alone, I throw it away. He just seems like the goofy type when we're alone together and like a literal teddy bear that I can't imagine doing anything with except hugging the life out of him. But then. Later on. When he's in the spot light and he's making funnies and when I notice other girls noticing that "Hey, this kid may be a but goofy...but I'm totally attracted to him." That's when the flames come out [not that I do shit about it].

All I'm doing is pissing myself off. I'm making myself uber jealous and with a great need and want to take him away to a far away corner where I can have him all to myself [even if we never do anything] on ONE DAY...and the next, when I really DO get that chance...I don't care for it. At. All.
I'm so fucking pissed about this. I don't understand myself. And everyday I look forward to seeing him hoping that when I do, something in my mind will click and explain to me why I feel this way. I mean, I wish that once and for all I will either BE OVER HIS ADORABLENESS/sweetness/cute eyes/clear-need-of-a-lot-of-glomps-from-me OR that I will finally get that butterfly, light hearted feeling I used to get when I looked at Paul and KNEW, just really KNEW that no matter what I'd always want him whether we were alone or in a room with large people [Cheesy as hell? I knows].
What sucks is that I don't think Sullie will be at school today. I doubt he has classes.
Fucking SHIT.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

they only come when unplanned.

My mother stared at me while I was looking out the window. I caught her and smiled. She returned it. I wonder if she could sense anything. Mothers are supposed to have extra special powers, you know.
Could she sense how pathetic I felt right then? Remembering the walk downtown and how it was such a perfect night... Running through the fountains. Getting wet. Walking around barefoot, drying off. And the laying on the concrete, looking up at the stars with the skyscrapers surrounding us. The breeze. The people I was with. How calming and peaceful it was.
It's such a bittersweet memory. It only happened weeks ago, yet I feel like it was an eternity ago.
The sadness comes in with the realization that a perfect night like that won't happen for a while. We tried going downtown again. This time Ingrid joined us.
I have nothing against Ingrid. Sort of. In fact I actually idolize her. But then again, who wouldn't? She and I have only just finished our first quarter and already she's taken over as one of the best artists our school has to offer. Yes, including the SENIOR artists. She's that damn good.
Also, people love her. Why?
1. She's petite.
2. She's got scenie-weenie hair.
3. Her style is
scenie-weenie/tomboy with lots of eye liner, colored nail polish, tight graphic
t's, chucks, skinny jeans and cute belts. Pretty much a style that you
could imagine Hot Topic generated before it became mainstream.
4. Her
attitude is perfect with everyone. She can be sweet and cute as can be with
cute sayings and jokes and, even though it gets on my nerves, she speaks
a few words of Japanese in that cute little anime voice and
LOVES HER. But then she can switch onto the
tomboy mode. Think
ninja. Think willing to play along
with everything. Think...juggalo. She used to be
Also, think cute little sister with the boy walk that other boys
would like
to spar with some day. Mhm.
5. She's a furry.
6. Very into
7. EVERYONE LOVES HER. And I hate to love her for
this. Am I jealous? Why yes. Yes I am.
And she gets along fabulously with Sullie. Let me tell you something about Sullie: he. is. adorable.
I want to be his best friend. And no, not because he's gay. Ha. He's not gay. ;]
Point is... I want to get close to this kid for reasons that will probably be explained later on, but... We can't. Because we have nothing in common. Sure it was amazing hanging with Sullie the first time we went downtown but now with Ingrid there. I'm in the back of the group and he's far off ahead of us with Ingrid and they're running around having fun and I feel like a fucking grandma.
SO what is the point of this blog post if all I'm doing is bitching about how I'm jealous of Ingrid? There are three, actually:

1. I am jealous of Ingrid.
2. It just goes to show that perfect and beautiful nights are always best when not planned.
3. There is a part two to this where you will learn more about Sullie and I will elaborate with stuff that's been going on. But you'll have to wait for it. I'm sorry, I have no more time to write. :/

Friday, August 20, 2010

southern lollipop cuteness.

It's Drawing class and we're momentarily on a break from drawing a fucking Kroger bag down to the smallest damn detail when Riley walks in with a huge lollipop and hands it to me.
"I was told to give this to you. I know you know who it's from."
"Oh my goodness, yay! A lollipop!" I'm a little too excited about this candy.
"You do see what's going on here?" Riley asks.
My goofiness is gone for a second and I say in a calm, low voice, "Yes. I know. And I'm trying to block it out of the moment so, just let it slide for now, kthanks."
She won't let it go.
"Oh, come on. Give him a chance. He's a nice guy."
Because I said I wasn't going to give him a chance? But she assumed it and next thing I know, she's coming up with a plan to help me shoot him down and shake him off.
The problem comes in when I think about it: do I really like him?
I love him, for sure. In that "omg that guy is so adorable and funny, he could be my best friend"-way. It's not the same way as I keep being told he likes me.
See... I see romantic potential. But only slightly.
He's a redneck. Nothing wrong with that. He's in culinary. He likes to wrestle and hike and is super sweet and has a bit of that southern charm that draws people to him automatically. But something draws him to me more.
Maybe the "cuteness"?
That's the problem. He's attractive. He's sweet. He's funny. He's awkward [lol, cute]...but I don't think we really have anything in real common except that physical attraction shit.
Meh. It sucks. Hard. Core.
I'm not entirely sure what to do. :/

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

a boy who is a dick moment.

I'd been sketching a guy that I thought was beautiful to me. He was similar to an actual guy that I kept seeing in the hallway and who I felt giddy about.
He's a son of a bitch.
I walk out of the lounge and pass their group. They were clearly having a convo and all look at me as I walk out. This is what I hear as I walk by:
"Oh HELL no!"
"Oh my god, You're so mean."
Two things that bothered me:
1. He apparently considered me scum. Doesn't really bothered me as much as
2. The girl who threw out the "so mean" line...threw out the "so mean" line. This, in case you are unaware, is the pity line.
I despise pity. I hate feeling like a weakling in need of defense from a girl who is only offering it because she feels a bit bad for wanting to or laughing at me.
Humiliating, really.
But the good thing is that it didn't bother me so much. I mean sure, I sat in my next class trying to fight off the tears and knowing that at any second I might burst out in random tears and shaking...
Thankfully the topic for our class was about stress and everything that makes it evident.
1. butterflies
2. shaking
3. mood swings
4. etc.
Our teacher is my reason for not breaking down over one little incident. He told us about his experience during the disaster. It made me feel so much better about what had happened earlier.
Here I was freaking out and wanting to cry because some girl felt bad for me and one really cute guy didn't like me.
My teacher spoke about all his troubles after the disaster and the stresses in his life after, while clearly close to tears...as was I. About to cry with him...FOR him. It wasn't even about me any more. While his story had a general good ending, it was a key element for me to get over my own little crisis.
He said that stress isn't about what causes it: it's how we handle it.
And you know what? I don't need to make a big deal about some gorgeous chick pitying the weird looking girl with big dimples. Pfft. What reason will I GIVE her to pity me? And the guy? Fuck him. I have a line building up of other guys who I already like as friends. All I need is friends right now. That'll keep me happy.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

art school, chucks and perfect flirting.

"That feels good," I say as I feel his fingers squeezing my neck and attempt to hold back a flinch.
It does not feel good at all.
My mind attempted to come out of confusion, to understand if what I'm feeling is relaxing me...or causing me pain---
It's causing me pain.
This guy can't give massages worth a shit. But I'll give him an A for effort.
We sit in the lounge which has two drink machines, a candy machine, a hot chocolate/coffee machine, a plasma screen TV with Wii. Our group sits in one of the middle tables, being the loud and perverted art students that we are. I never felt so comfortable with strangers before.
But...they don't really feel like strangers. I love this about art school.Two guys come sit beside me in a strategy that I've learned quickly about..
They do this to the giggly "noobs" and it's fantastic.
There's a lot of laughter, a lot of perverted jokes...a lot of teenage antics which make me laugh. And I mean really laugh. Not fake-painful-laugh that I've had to endure for most of high school pretending something was funny so I wasn't outcast.
No. Not anymore. I'm tired of feeling the need to pretend. I'm pretty much in college, dammit. And the people here actually seem really, really interested in me. And it's not pity interest because I'm so shy...I'm not really all that shy anymore.
It's not clingy-I-need-a-girlfriend-and-you're-the-only-one-nice-to-me-so-imma-stalk-you interest either. It's genuine interest. Hopefully.
Or maybe cause I'm still kinda new.
Point is: people seem much more accepting. Much more nice. Much more like able than others. And I love it.
-Bzzzzzzz-My phone kept vibrating during class. One text was from Jesi. The other from Bonnie.
I don't know what to do with Bonnie. She's been my friend for six years now and I have absolutely no reason to dislike her...Heck, she was one of the reasons for why I started to leave my shell during high school.
But... her text...her asking me to go get drunk at a party and try weed for the first time is not something I find enjoyable. It's not something I want to do. It's something I've told her I want to do...SOME DAY. As a freaking life experience and not something I want to do just to get it over and done with. I. Don't. Want. That.
And frankly, I just don't want to hang with her anymore.
It's not that I think I'm better than her all of sudden because I have new friends---oh hells to the nah. It's just...we have nothing in common, to be honest.
I always feel like I'm pretending somehow when we hang. Like I'm pretending to be someone else.
And I don't want to anymore. I want to be myself, my own kid. Not a leech in need of care.
She's part of my past. Part of something that I don't want to think about anymore. Part of something that I just want to tie to a balloon someday and let it fly.I don't want to dis her. I just want to move on.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

inception: HOLY SHIT!

I don't want to make this a blog about reviewing books and movies... even though I've gotten close to making it so....I hope that Inception is the only movie I review on here. [i really don't want to make it a review blog.] How can I explain the dream scape that Inception threw me in after watching it? I was in my own "Limbo" for a while, feeling once again like the ground had just been snatched out from under my feet.
My mind is easily influenced, that's for sure. Yet, it's not easily convinced. Does that make sense?
I'm the biggest believer...yet I'm my own biggest skeptic.
The movie suggests [or "incepts"into our minds] that the world we live in may be all just a dream. Who is to say it's not? Who is to declare it reality? What IS reality?
Too many questions arise. Too many doubts.
It really is an interesting movie to watch. So interesting that I felt the need to come on here and tell you all to go watch it. Because I'm lame and I have nothing else I want to talk about.
There are things going in on art school, though. :]
But that shall be a blog for later.

And Mimi: thank you for your response. It means a lot to know that you've thought about this as much as I have. And Mily: Lol. Yeah, your comment confused me a bit but it did make me laugh.

Monday, July 26, 2010

dora the explora shouldn't be driving.

For more reasons than one. For example, she's like what, ten...eight? What would ten year olds need to be driving a car for? Also, if she were in situation in which it were alright for her to drive and it actually be legal, another problem would arise:

I'm not even sure how to describe this picture. At first glance, it's humorous to me. At second glance it breaks my heart to little pieces, then shreds those little pieces and pounds those remains until they become chewable and are then chewed, then spit out and pounded some more 'till they become power and are sprinkled on the ground where they're dampened and wet with urine...
So, I grew up in a community which had more white people than any other race until recent years. We've had an American flag held up on our porch until recently (its so old, torn and the color is washed out so it needs to be replaced) and my father has had his citizenship for a few years now and considers himself an American, as he should.
Thing is, I...I can't bring myself to say that I've grown up knowing and living the life of an illegal immigrant because

1. I was born here (This country)
2. I was raised surrounded by southern
white culture

But my parents are your typical story of the struggles of living in this country illegally...something that I am IMMENSELY proud of admitting (I'm so thankful at how far they've gotten and what they've accomplished).
However, I suppose that I can only feel empathy for that side of my heritage seeing as I have been granted the gift of living here without fear of deportation. Yet, that does not keep me from shedding tears along with my mom when the news comes up with more stories about struggling, poverty, discrimination and utter helplessness that comes with living here illegally. Who wouldn't?
I do feel ashamed to say that although I've always wanted to be some sort of activist in getting the world to understand what it's like to risk everything for a country that supposedly offers everything, I've never known how or what to do. This is also because of a couple of reasons:

1. I don't know how to do this effectively
2. I'm not even sure where I stand
in my own beliefs when it comes to the question, "Should we be doing more to
keep them out of the country or be doing more to get them out?"

But now that the Dreaded-Arizona-Law is getting so much closer to us, I reflect on my race and what I think I should be feeling.
I feel dread, for sure. But also confused about why I feel dread. It's not going to affect me and my family...yet it will all the same. It seems to me like stopping someone for their appearance/race is discrimination joining forces with the law, don't you think?
And then I start thinking. And my thinking usually revolves around these kinds of thoughts:

Apparently there are people who think of illegal immigrants as an unwanted
infestation of roaches and ants. It's just a notch above being a Jew. Hmm. Maybe
they should just combine the two and get it over an done with?...Yes, yes.
Get it over and done with. Off to the gas chambers!....oh, wait! No, no,
don't send them to the gas chambers, we're above that. How about
just chaining them up and keeping them as dogs? Yes, that's the more
human thing to do.
Yeah. I have very dry/sarcastic/douche-baggy humor. I suck.
Sigh. Then again, I might not really know what I'm talking about. I'm terribly dense when it comes to these matters. I like to lay in wait until something happens and I'm finally sure about what I've decided.
Unfortunately that takes a while to happen. A while to understand. A while to decide on something.
At least I know one thing, though.

Next time I have poison ready to kill an infestation of bugs, Imma hesitate a bit.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

my college geometry teacher is boho. [first day of art school]

[Disclaimer: no pictures are mine.]

It's amusing as I walk in to see that my teacher must be around his late twenties/early thirties and has an absolute boho look. I can tell you that from the second I saw him, I knew he'd be one of my favorites.
He wore a light blue polo that FIT, plaid skinny jeans, he had curly sandy hair and a braid headband on.
Freakin' awesome.His physical appearance is not really close to this, but his personality seems to be able to relate to this...kinda. Only without the suit underneath. Replace it with a polo and imagine him as a guy that has to have done weed at some point in his life.
Our geometry class consists of eight people today. Incredibly weird...especially after twelve years of being in a crammed class room and extra students trying to find empty chairs and bring in new desks from other rooms.I've already committed my first "Freshman" crime in which I went to the bookstore to ask where my class was...No one showed me the other side of the building before! D:
Oh wells. I liked my awkwardness. It's quirky, I guess---- and I tend to get on people's good side with it...most of the time.
So, after that: the two hours to blow off between classes began. Thing is, my friend Danielle and I live forty five minutes away from school and since we're not complete idiots, we decide to save our gas and sit outside and eat.
Our Geo Teach came out to have a smoke, attempted to make small talk, [I believe] and then continued to smoke his cigarette in silence. And after that he left.
I should have said something. I should have not been silent... but, oh well. For some reason this doesn't bother me as much as it would of a few months ago. (I think I'm progressing?? :D)
Danielle came back from the bookstore with a sketch pad like a total art nerd that she is and lent me a piece of paper for me to begin as well.
It was nice. I liked it.
Only a couple of minutes later, however, we moved into the student lounge after we realize we're going to melt in the heat. [stupid hot, dense, over-bearing weather]
And then came the disappointment.
Our teacher for our next class was MIA [nerd-speak for missing-in-action].
With nowhere to be found, Danielle and I resorted to our quiet selves and doodled away, listening in as a loud group of kids talked about everything that I hate about the Internet.
Example? E n c y c l o p e d i a d r a m a t i c a.
Needless to say that this class lacked the enthusiasm and warmth I felt in my geometry class. And the teacher. Who never showed.
Sooooo, after waiting for about forty-five minutes someone finally came in and took roll. After that we were allowed to leave early.
Jesus Christ. I hope my first impression of this class is wrong. I hope it is soooooooo wrong.
Tomorrow more classes await me, more people to meet. I really hope I DON'T meet people that remind me of the ones I left behind in high school.
I meant technically my school is more of an art school than a college.
But still. It's not supposed to be high school all over again.
Pretty sure I'd die if it was.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

cringing at their disgusting cuteness.

I try to hold back the cringe as I become aware that my best friend's boyfriend has his arm around her and she's leaning on his shoulder and----what's this? Oh my god. I heard a kiss.

Alright. So let me be honest with myself: I cringed because it's my best friend. Yeah, I was aware that she'd been in previous relationships before this guy but, she's never ever introduced me to any of them. Something I don't really mind.
And to be honest, I don't mind being the third wheel as couples. You know...if they didn't ACT like couples. Cause I have. I adore those couples who let me feel comfortable with them.
This was something that I was hoping she would hold her word to. He didn't get the memo.
So halfway through Toy Story 3, I'm sliding down on my chair feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Here's the thing: my best friend is my best friend because we might as well be telepathic, have far too many things in common and should have just been born as twins...but when it comes to personal situations...we don't ever tell each other shit.
And I like that relationship. I keep my experiences to myself; as does she. We could talk about just about anything and have almost no real barriers.
But once again: we don't tell each other shit.
I like to refer to her as an "emotional robot", even though it's totally clear to me that she's not---no matter how much she tries to convey that to me.
I just see it as really strange to actually be confronted with what I've known for a while. It just feels like it's something I know she doesn't want me to see and I suddenly feel like there's a giant elephant in the room that I'm trying to ignore.
But there's that other emotion running through me [other than the very real tears through Toy Story 3, which you should definitely see]. Yes, other than embarrassment for my sad third-wheely-self and disgust as his over-willingness to display public affection...
I was jealous.
So, her guy isn't going to be the winner of "Most-Attractive-Boyfriend-of-the-Year" but he's obviously very...uh...."sprung" on her...
I didn't even know how sprung he was until we snuck into Eclipse.
Oh my god. I was seriously considering standing up and leaving if they started making out. Not only because it would be embarrassing, but I'd also be feeling far too jealous and lonely for it...especially while watching ECLIPSE of all fucking movies.
Sigh. It makes me feel so sorry about myself. I would have wallowed even more in my own self pity...
Had it not been for one thing, I probably would have died in bitterness.
I think I have a new love. And his name is Art.

Art School* that is.
Just got done with orientation and I already know I'm gonna love it. I've also spotted some eye candy. Nothing too exciting happened yesterday [orientation], unless you want to hear the ramblings about how I can't wait to get it started.
All I know for sure, however, is that I'm more inclined to WANT to hang out with the friends I make at this school than the ones I had in high school.
And did I mention that there's definitely plenty of eye candy?

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

life's restart button, yo.

"If you two don't get boyfriends by time you're freshman at college, I swear..." Jesi trailed off when saying this and Mady and I laugh at it.
We saw it as a joke. But I knew there was some truth to the tone she had used. It's true, Mady has never had a boyfriend. It's true. Neither have I.
The difference is, Mady doesn't seem to have much experience with boys.
And I, pfft. I only beat her by a grain of salt. I have almost little to nothing of experience when it comes to relationship.
Now, let's take flirting. It's definitely different from the word "relationship". When it comes to flirting...I still don't have all that much experience.
But I have some. Unfortunately, flirting doesn't go to far thanks to my immediate frigidness.
Now, why am I frigid? Why am I so cold?
J is always telling me this. Prom night, when I let it slip that I've never had a boyfriend [i was too tired to care and hoped the others were too buzzed to remember...doubt it] he pointed out how he'd come on to me before and I did nothing about it.
And I admitted it with a simple, "Yeah, I know."
Because I did know. I do know.
"Actually, I've hit on you a few times."
"Yeah, I know."
J is honest. I like that about him. And I like him. A lot. I like that he's a black skater who's totally passionate about skating [and like it or not, race plays a factor in this. He said so himself.] His personality is terribly close to mine. We could be movie critiques together. We might share similar beliefs. It's all too easy to talk to him. It's all too easy to have a hilarious time with him. He's a hopeless romantic. As am I. I could probably attempt to deal with him and his heavy emotional baggage if we were in a relationship. Thing is...I don't want to be in a relationship with J.
I'm just...not attracted. It's not even about race as most people would think. I like his personality, he makes me smile and is so sweet and romantic.
"Oh my god, I love your dimples! I love seeing you smile! I could die happy right now just by seeing you smile!" he says to me in the car.
I know I should have responded with something just as sweet. But I couldn't bring myself to.
All I said was, "Awwww. Thanks."
Then there was the time where he admitted to falling so low at the beginning of high school that he planned a shooting in his mind. He looked at my horrified face and said, "BUT I'D NEVER HURT YOU! I LOVE YOU!" and kissed my cheek. I went and made fun of how sudden that was.
I feel horrible. I know he's sweet. I know he's nice.
[And before you get the wrong idea, he doesn't like me like that. He's a natural flirt like that.]
What bothers me is that he's just one example. When other boys say similar flattering things, I don't know how to respond. I mean, I love the idea of being complemented and flattered, but I don't. know. how. to. handle. it.
I only just started acted like a semi-normal teenager about a year and a half ago. I came from a secluded, shut off from the social world and on lock down in my own house because of political/parental oppression! And suddenly I seem to have fallen in a world with drinking and pot and people who've had at least three relationships already, hooked up, had sex...have done so much.
And here I am. Trying to make sense of it all.
My parents are separated and my mom is asking for divorce. My dad is starting a new life with a new family. My sister is growing up. I'm heading off to college.
And I'm terribly inexperienced when it comes to what my niche of "friends" have done.
I'm a late fucking bloomer.
Where do I stand? What do I do next? Where do I go?
So far I'm trying to detach myself from certain friends. I'm trying to start over.
My way.
I just kind of wish I knew what my way was.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

prom night.

I told Bonnie that I would have preferred having weed than alcohol. This is simply because I didn't want to risk drinking one too many and blacking out. I was actually very scared, very frightened about what might happen on that night. Now that I look back at it, I can understand where my fear came from. But thankfully, it wasn't as crazy or scary at all.
There was no weed. Only Vodka, Red Bull and cranberry juice. I didn't get drunk, just tipsy. It was actually quite relaxing and helped me loosen up a tad bit. But tipsy is as far as I was allowed to go. In the hotel room there were six people in all. Bonnie, Ray, Alisa, J, Mac, Melony, Diego, and I. Melony and Diego left around one in the morning. Melony was Diego's girlfriend/freshman/Christian chick who I saw and immediately thought, "What is she doing up here??? She's just a baby!!!" But they left before Bonnie pulled the alcohol out.
I have to say that the wildest thing that happened was Ray slamming his head on the table trying to break dance and everyone fearing that Bonnie would jump off the balcony. Mac drank three cups and was already ready to pass out. It was a nice balance, I think. J, Alisa, and I were the three sober babysitters, kinda. The other three were just completely drunk.
We spent the night pretty much chillin' in the hotel room. Confessions were made. Small ones. But there were made. Bonding kinda happened. But in the end there was no actual sex or wild college party-esque thing that went on. Except Ray banging his head on the table, though.
Haha. I thought it was funny.
But then again, something MIGHT have happened. I'm not sure. Alisa's mom picked us up around five. As far as I know the rest woke up and Mac had a slight hang over while Ray's head hurt from the table. Honestly, it was an interesting night. Pretty chill compared to all the "What-Ifs" that popped up in my mind.
And being tipsy? Not too bad, not to bad.
Yet, I can't bring myself to say that I underestimated the responsibility of the others. I can't say so because even though it was incredibly chill, I know that anything could have easily gone wrong. There's always that variable you have to watch out for. That variable called reality. Something you have to hold on to, or else. Something that can keep you from creating the biggest mistake of your life.
Now, I'm not big on actual body contact, be it hand touch, hugging or kissing. But being tipsy and tired from the prom dancing made it far too easy to cuddle up with someone. Course, that was actually when everyone was near falling asleep, haha. But who knows? Had we all been more drunk and more pumped, what would we have done? Hmm...
Once again, though, it was cool. I enjoyed it.
As for the followers who answered to my last blog: THANK YOU! I READ WHAT YOU SAID AND BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT I TOOK EVERYTHING YOU SAID INTO CONSIDERATION. I really appreciate your input and hope to get more at some point in time. :]

Friday, April 16, 2010

i'm cute. but i still relate to lesley lane.

Every morning since freshman year, I wake up with the same thought in my head: this is THE day. The day I will meet or at least begin my relationship with my first boyfriend ever.
Every afternoon since freshman year, I come home and think: maybe next time. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. I'm getting some vibes about it.
Every Friday since freshman year I've thought: some girlfrand will call, we'll hang with her and her friends...I'll meet him there.
Every end of the month since freshman year: This next month is the month. I fucking feel it. Much attraction in the air. Much. Lots. Yep. Flirtyness? Yes?....No?....Look away? Oh... in shame? I agree. Look away in shame.
I'm pretty sure my flirt-gears didn't activate until my junior year, though. And they're still pretty premature. Don't get me wrong, I can be flirty, but I don't seem to find the gist of it. Like, I'm either flirting with someone already taken or someone I have no real interest at all. And what's the point in that, right?
At least I'm no longer a Lesley Lane. Lesley Lane is a girl who comes to school wearing the same Gryffendor jacket, shoes with "I love vampires" on the laces [her pants too short so you always see her white socks raised up a little over her ankle], Naruto book bag, sweats, bushy-tied-in-a-low-ponytail hair and glasses.
Well, OK. To be honest, I love this about her. It makes her terribly interesting to me because she has the guts to show off things she's a fan of and/or has a passion for. Not to mention, she reminds me of....me.
At one point I was like her. The socially inept part, I mean. I never was quite as bad as having a face full of acne with glasses and lack of variety in my closet [i totally had red, green AND blue old yard sale t-shirts to choose from in my closet in those days]. But yes. At one point [mostly my middle school and part of my freshman year] I was the quietest kid in class and would totally freak out when someone showed some vague interest in interaction with me.
This is probably why I began to draw and obtained school wide [well maybe not SCHOOL WIDE...maybe just my art class] fame for my abilities in art. I had only a couple a friends, plenty of free time and a pen and paper sitting beside me. Yes. I became and art freak/dork.
Then it slowly progressed to the point where I decided that I couldn't continue life so terribly alone. I had to form a plan. A plan to do something. To have friends. To hang out like a regular teenager. To ACT like a regular teenager, not an awkward skinny girl who looked to be Asian. That was terrible!
Bonnie was my main savior. Of course that was only last summer. The summer after my junior year [which i spent gradually improving my social behavior] in which I finally got a taste of what it's like to just CHILL with teenagers. I finally got a taste of what I'd been missing and yearning and just...CRAVING for so long. And so, yeah, Bonnie [the equally as quiet girl whom I met and became great friends in the sixth grade] became my savior.
Thanks to Bonnie's push into socializing, I know that there are people out there who care about me and are actually INTERESTED in the kind of person that I am. I can now freely make jokes without stuttering so much and worrying about people not getting my jokes. Who cares if they don't get it? I sure don't! Not anymore. I can now speak loud enough for the people around me to hear because I know they can't possibly be beckoning on my every word to turn around, point fingers and judge me...they don't care about that! Why should they? I can now smile and giggle and wink and throw my hair back while I'm talking to someone cute. I can now sort of kind of not freak out with physical contact such as hugs, hand touching, hip bumping and just silly, playful gestures [well, i'm working on that, anyway]. I can now not cry of happy emotions just because someone complemented on something I said or did that wasn't even that significant.
I think back to Lesley. I wonder if people make her week if they compliment her and tell her she looked cute in the prom show [she was in it! :D] and that she's really nice or sweet or maybe just a "thanks for the pencil" or "paper" comment. I know I did. Maybe if I just got ONE compliment, it made my week. It made me smile. It made me a tiny bit more confident.
Unfortunately, being human you can never be completely satisfied.
Today, I know that I can be cute. Actually, I AM cute. I'm not being conceited, but people tell me ALL the time that I'm cute or that my dimples are so cute or that my style of clothing is cute or that my hair is cute or that my overall bubbliness is just...cute.
But I'm tired of cute. Cute hasn't gotten me very far. Sure, it's gotten me more friends on facebook and sure I can now post almost anything and almost always there will be one or more persons commenting of liking them. But that's not enough.
Yeah, I've been called hot.
Yeah, I've been called sexy.
Yeah, I've had guys ask me out.
Yeah, I've been hit on.
But I'm never content--------------------------------------------------------------------
*don't get the idea that i'm miss popular princess, here. i'm not. i'm most definitely still a...partially shy person. i'm not like a a goddess or anything. i'm just normal. think...cute asian chick everyone gets along with...just, you know, not asian, but hispanic.*
Anyway. As far as getting hit on: yeah, I've had some attractive guys hit on me. But then again, I don't see that as much because I'm pretty sure they only consider me "moderate" material. Which really means= they hit on me cause they can; maybe just to get a little flirting done, but other than that, there's no more.
And then I've been asked out. A couple [I know] were just as jokes. I played along. So did they---- Yeah. Joke.
The other guys are guys I'm not interested in. Or that I guess I'm too stuck up for. Does it make me horrible not to want to be seen with them? I think so.
I think it's true what some people say about me. I think I might have become snobby.
Am I really hiding behind the excuse that I'm still majorly insecure, or do I just think I'm too good for people?
Oorrrr maybe I just really don't wanna go to the movies with the chubby kid who has the overall character of Peter Griffin. I mean, he can be sweet but... Or maybe I don't want to talk to the equally chubby guy that reminds me of Yogi Bear...who is also sweet but....or maybe I'd like to avoid the short kid who annoys the heck out of me just because he's STALKING me...or maybe that almost decent guy but who won't leave me alone on facebook...AND. SO. FREAKIN. ON.
They're all nice! They can all be terribly sweet! They all have values and morals and things like that. They have personalities that I could definitely be cool, nerdy and dorky with...
Ok. Let's put it this way: had I enough security or confidence in myself [and if i weren't afraid to be seen in public hanging with these guys], I could see me as a type of Sydney White [much less attractive than Amanda Bynes, thank you] and them as my seven dorks [if you've seen Sydney White, you know what i mean about "dorks"].
But I lack that. I still have that part of Lesley Lane left in me.

I just really hope that part leaves before I enter college.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

"you have chubby cheeks."

"What do ya got in thur? Walnuts?"
"Ohhhhhh!" cries a junkie. He's right. It was an offense. A great a offense. Strong enough to make me cry.
In fact, I distinctly remember fighting off the urge to cry.
Robert doesn't understand how bad his countrified accented words hit me. He, Bill and Terrance all brought me to the point of tears while they weren't looking. All because of a god damn Kit-Kat bar.
So, I didn't wanna share. What was the problem?
"Huy! I been nice to ya. Why wont you gimme a piece? I haven't called ya Chubby Cheeks in a while."
Bill snickers. Fuck him.
"That's true. But I don't wanna share."
And so he proceeds to insult me. Bill and Terrance kick in.
I sit there and do the same thing that I always do. "I hate you!" I say and bury my face in my arms only look up every once in a while, laughing a little. I'm trying to play along with their jokes like it's nothing. After all, that's what they've done all year. Just teased me.
And I've teased back. A little. Not too much, really. At least I don't think so.
It's just that I seem to talk to these boys easily when they're not being assholes. But when they turn on me and begin to tease...I never know what to do. I don't dare tease them any more. These guys are used to being around rough girls with backbones who will swing their insults away.
I have no backbone. I have no smart ass comments. Not for them anyway. They'd easily swing down anything I say and throw even worse stuff at me.
I'm not used to that. I hate to say that I'm really fucking sensitive...but I am. I really am. Especially about my face and my cheeks.
Yeah, I have big dimples and chubby cheeks, thanks for noticing. Why do you have to be such a dumb ass mother fucking asshole about it?
It hurts. It hurts a lot for someone to point out what you consider one of your WORST imperfections. Especially for someone barely transitioning from UBER SHY INSECURE teen to almost normal.
God, it hurts to be ridiculed and mocked. And feeling so pathetically defenseless when it happens. I think that hurts even worse.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

i iz da aim stalkah. beware!

-ENTER AIM USER NAME HERE- has blocked you. She will not receive your message.
For a moment, I'm appalled. Why would Mady block me? Of course, I wouldn't exactly blame her because I am an obsessive AIMer who probably sends her 20 bajillion [its a word cause i said it is!] messages in two hours:

Myusernamehere: hey.
Myusernamehere: sup?
Myusernamehere: are you there or
on invisible?
Myusernamehere: gah. you talk to me more on facebook than on
Myusernamehere: lol.
[5 minutes later]
Myusernamehere: mmmmmmmaaadddddyyyyyyyyyyy?
Myusernamehere: where you at? stop obsessing over
the freakin jonas brothers and talk to me!
Myusernamehere: D:
[35 minutes later]
Myusernamehere: hullo?
Myusernamehere: must i resort to talking to myself again?
Myusernamehere: gosh, you are always saying how you don't have a life, why won't you answerrrr?
[3 hours later]
Myusernamehere: OK, so you talk to me more on facebook than on here,
because? oh yes. i always want lengthy conversations about possible meaningful
stuff, but can't really have these kinds of convos with you when the
varies between your definition and mine. sigh. when will i learn to accept that our convos will always be "hey!" "hi!" "sup" "nm u?" "same." "ah. OK." "yep."

And that's when I got that message that might as well have said this:
She's blocked you. Go away.
And THEN, when I take a second look at her screen name in disbelief, I realize that the letters in the screen name are right---but the capitalization aren't.
Shit. I have been spamming a poor innocent stranger with all my crazy typing... Dammit!

In the end I just send the last message to Mady before exiting out of the AIM box in shame.

Oh, please, don't judge me too harshly.
Here's the thing: I need someone to talk to. Naturally I pick Mady because she's the closest friend I have. My best friend. UNFORTUNATELY, we're polar opposites. The most polar of the most. fucking. opposites. that you can get. So, when I try to converse with her and try to share problems I'm going through... they just seem to fly over her head. As well as her problems with me. The frustration level is extremely high and we tend to bud heads a lot. So why do I keep bugging her on aim?
Even though I seldom tell her what really bothers me, she's still my closest friend. And sometimes the company-----or even the feeling of company makes me feel better when I'm a little wired up.
This is why I don't care when she dismisses my attempts to get into a conversation about teenage girl problems. I mean, at least I have someone to ALLMMMOSSSTTT converse deeply with.
Sadly, that's good enough for me right now.
AND that's why I have this blog thing. To write about other internal conflict. And also why I love you. :]

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

dear shower,

Oh Shower, you and I go way back. I remember when I was seven and had my first real encounter with you. I felt like a big girl leaving behind the baths and replacing them with showers. I was so happy.
But it seems like we haven't spoken in a while. It seems like we need to get together sometime soon. I'm dreadfully sorry for going three days without even glancing at you. I know, I know. I make you sick. But that's the thing. I'm sick as well. Unable to breathe through my nose, sneazing up a storm every five minutes and trying not to hurt my throat anymore than it already is. And seeing as we've been out of school, well....I just haven't found the strength to get out of bed long enough to spend time with you.
But now I'm feeling better, I promise.
I need to see you soon. I need you to help me forget the annoying situation at hand. I want your warm waters to sooth the stress of going to prom with someone I really, really, really don't want to go to prom with. Even if we are just friends. No matter how much we have in common, I don't want to go to prom with J because I feel like I'd be going with my brother.
Thanks Bonnie. Thanks.
And then there's another problem we need to sort out Shower. My friend Georgia and her feeling of depression and leading on Phil and making me feel horrible for backing her up and still trying to spare Phil's feelings. We never should have decided to give him that note so quickly. She lots interest in a snap simply because there was no chase, passion or romance to actually getting Phil. He was just there. He already liked her and was just...there. Poor Phil.
And then Jesi and her loser boyfriend. Don't really understand why she's not dating her best guy friend. So he lives four hours away....Sooo? It'd be cute.
Shower, I need you now so badly. I need you to massage my muscles that are strained by the weight of the lives I'm not living.
God, I need a life of my own.
Love, Me.