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.

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.