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I Say What I Mean But I Don't Mean What I Say
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| Now I Need A Guillotine To Get You Off My Mind. You Were Swept Up In The Buzz Of A Marriage. |
[Nov. 23rd, 2006|04:51 pm] |
Future Freaks Me Out. Yes. That IS an Emo song. Eff off.
I think I already have something that a lot of people think they want. But that's because they're idiots.
What *I* want is to go to college and become completely detached from the world until I get a Ph. D. and get a real job afterwards. I want to break my Internet addiction, break any lingering sexual (even kissing) desires, not call anyone, not visit anyone. Just be obsessed with my major. I wouldn't care about the cost of school because I'd get one of those student loans that don't charge you anything until you have a job. When I'm done with school and get a job, I want to start planning my wedding, and not see my future husband until the kiss at the vows. (Blindfolds, anyone?) Then I want to move into a house with a computer hooked with Internet (because I'll probably need it for work-related project), and almost no other distractive electronics. I only want to stock my refrigerator with healthy food, and I don't want any pets or kids. An empty house.
Back to the wedding part. My boyfriend and me have been together for a combined amount of around 4 years. To not screw anyone for about 20 years really would require isolation (and perhaps stronger religious devotion). But I'm willing to shoot for it so far because it's inspirational that he wants to wait and wait until he's in his 30's. He wants to work, cut himself, sleep. Wait. And I know him well enough to know that he probably would. If I can't stand a loveless life of numbness while my sorority girls talk about the new sex positions their one-night-stands showed them, then I have the option of telling my boyfriend to just... break it off until I'm done with college. But that's not exactly an option because he would join the Army because he would strongly believe that I'd've found another man or woman to make me happy. (The Army is like a guarantee that you won't see anyone you love ever again.)
Other people I know aren't as romantically mature. My boyfriend and me have only dated two people each, and both with the intent of marriage. It's too difficult for me to relate to people other than my boyfriend. Which is awkward because I have little in common with my boyfriend.
This part of my life is just so scary. You see, this school year, I've been focusing on meeting new people, maintaining friends, etc. moreso than school work, and I think it just makes me depressed. I don't like getting bad test grades. I don't like forgetting about homework assignments. I don't like turning in projects late. I don't like getting like 3 hours of sleep a night, especially since I'm an Insomniac. But, worst of all, I noticed that being sociable causes me to desire people, even though I know no one will care about me the way my boyfriend does. Why, just the other day, he said the cutest thing to me, "Of course I'm picky; I chose you as my wife."
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| Like A Dead Body Burned On The Mantelpiece |
[Oct. 30th, 2006|07:43 pm] |
In Family Dynamics, we watched a Lifetime movie called Mom At Sixteen, and today we started watching a movie called Fifteen And Pregnant. Both movies scare the hell out of me (although I'm neither 15 nor 16, but, rather, almost 18). Astonishingly, the second the class period ended (it's my last class of the day) I was pissed off. I sent Jorge a really cruel text message to the extent of:
"I want my tubes tied. I never want to ruin my life with a kid like your mom did. And who cares what the kid would look like cuz you're probably going blind! And if I start smoking, you'll leave me."
He called me back, retorting, "Don't you ever mention this again. You have deeply hurt me because I love kids. If you want to do it, feel free to go do it, but don't EVER tell me about it."
I was all upset suddenly, and whined, "But it's not your choice to make!"
But he knows that. He has a response to everything. "Yes, of course it's not my choice at all. It's not my choice that my future wife doesn't want kids and refuses to adopt any. It's YOUR choice. Just don't tell me about it."
At that point I just choked up and asked if I could go visit him at work.
Of course, the two friends of his that are always hanging around, helping him out after school while waiting for their mom to pick them up, were chatting it up with him at his work about fucking pointless Animé. They're never even talking about Animé with morals. If that idea ever crossed their mind, then they'd just mention parts that look dodgy out of context, but, in fact, aren't. They're aimless conversation. It's like...
What if Golden Boy saw Naruto's Sexy Ninjitsu do this and Ouran High School Host Club is sooo "hilarious" because this one episode is just like this one Gravitation episode except the fact that the blonde-haired guy in Ouran isn't gay-he just flirts with guys-and blah blah blah.
Fucking waste of noise.
So I sit there for hours going out of my mind. Today I got lucky because I got to go on MySpace since there was only one customer when I was there [customer = not allowed to touch the computer]. When the two LBHS kids were in the kitchen, Jorge and I had time for a few sentences before I had to leave, but they didn't suffice in the least bit. "Oh my God, I told Drew about yada yada yada and he was like da da da da and so I was like oh my God I know!" Dumb shit like that. Crap that's amusing, but not when I'm crying. Goddamn. What do I have to say to get some attention around here? "I'm getting an abortion. Just kidding, I'm not pregnant." ???!!! [And if you're slow, I most certainly am a virgin. So re-read the sentence until you understand it.]
The closest I got to sympathy was when the LBHS chick said to me, "Hey, why are you so quiet today?" I muttered, "Oh. But I'm always quiet." Then Jorge chimed in with a, "She's just quiet today because I kinda pissed her off a little before." I was glad he noticed, but Jesus Christ, take me to the back of the bakery and say something to make me feel better. All I got was the girl fake-gasping and saying, "You should kick his ass." All I could do was mutter, "Nah." And just like that, the topic reverted back to nimrod Animé.
I honestly don't know what he can stand about kids, given his circumstances. He has to take care of his mother's children, and had to drop out of school in order to work so that he can feed them. He's poor, and has only enough time in a day to sleep, work, and run errands for his whore of a mother. She's not a slut. But she is through my eyes. My dad's side of the family hasn't had a divorce in the generations that matter enough to be included. Consequently, I was raised to date with marriage in mind, and I'm expected to never divorce, and to never EVER live with a guy who isn't my fiancéé. People who have kids and don't marry, repel me. It's something that obviously is disastrous in terms of stress and finance. It's not my concern. I shouldn't have to go to a parade with a double baby carriage that keeps me from enjoying myself because I can't stray away or leave prematurely, and I shouldn't have to have people thinking the kids are mine and that I'm making someone-who would seem to be my mother-take care of them for me. My parents studied hard to bring me to a classier level than that. It's a dishonor to my family to be perceived as... that.
But that's a rare and, unfortunately, fortunate opportunity because his opportunities to hang out are very rare. And when they do come up, I have to pay with my own money. Most recently, I looked for my Birthday and Christmas money that I've saved for years and years, which was only about $150, but purely mine nonetheless, and it was gone. When my mom sees money in the house, she grabs it. If I say it's mine, she'll say that she'll pay it back, but she always forgets, and buys more sandals or whatever for herself. She cleaned my room. I can't find my money anywhere. So I had to ask my parents to buy Jorge's Halloween Horror Nights ticket as well as mine. I couldn't stop crying. Even now it makes me cry. I should be able to spend and keep my own money.
Another thing I can't stand about his mom is her idea of equality. Jorge's Horror Nights ticket cost $60.00 plus tax. Jorge's mom bought me a $15.00 (plus tax?) ticket to the Calle Orange festival as well as a soda and some food. Yet she would've been pissed at me if Jorge told her that I refused to get him any food or drinks at Horror Nights because she offered those to me at Calle Orange. That's such fucking bullshit. And the horror is that Jorge's beliefs mirror her beliefs. I just think it's fucked up that if I want to marry HIM, I'm stuck with HER.
But whatever the fuck happens, happens. If it means hanging out with Jorge, then I'm probably down with it because he has a way with words that alleviates my stress from home.
Mind you, I consider my household to be nearly perfect. But my parents don't understand that when I'm upset, I'm UPSET.
Every 5 minutes it's my dad saying...
"Heather, you have to do your math. You can be online later. Math will clear your mind. Just get it over with. Come on, it's getting really, really late, and you have a lot of problems to do. More than she usually assigns. You know it's no fun to do math in the morning before school."
and my mom saying...
"Heather, what's wrong? Are you sad? Did someone do something to you? Is one of your friends hurt? Who's bothering you? Does it involve Jorge?"
So I keep getting upset and keep having to write about being upset until I feel a little better. If they'd leave me be, I'd get a lot better.
If they don't let me vent my stress out in writing, what do they want me to do?
Drink? Take over-the-counter pills? Smoke cigarettes? Get high on illegal drugs? Over-eat? Cut myself? Kill myself??
I got them a number for a medical hospital that counsels at a very low cost or whatever. They haven't called yet for info. It's been like a month since I got the number. What kind of impression AM I to receive?
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| Trying To Create Something That's Not There |
[Oct. 12th, 2006|04:48 pm] |
I'm sure I've done many embarrassing things in my life, but they tend to fade from memory. However, yesterday turned out to be quite the refresher, as it was an event that I'd love to forget.
After school, my dad said he'd wait about 20 minutes before picking me up due to traffic, so I went to Jorge's job. Two friends were there and one of their own friends. They were folding boxes. I went behind the counter, and Jorge smiled and said, "But you're a customer, so you have to wait over there." If anything, it sounded jokingly. I tried to get to him, but he kept moving around. He asked one of the girls to help him out, and she took my $50 fedora and held it over the garbage. Omg, I'm so glad she didn't drop it cuz that hat is brand new. Then the hat was kinda thrown around, and Jorge got them to stop. I kept trying to get to Jorge, but it wasn't working. But what else was I supposed to be doing? He hadn't asked me to do anything like box-folding, so I wanted to hug him and stuff. He believes that boys should handle boys and girls should handle girls, so when the girls left, he said he'd call 9-1-1. I kinda made dumb comments like, "You need to call the police instead," to stall it. He didn't call them, but he really was going to on the grounds of sexual harassment. As if he even let me get close enough to him. I quietly asked him (as there was still a boy from my school present) why he was acting that way, and he said that our private behavior is inappropriate in public, which offended me. He did mention the word "friend" once, but it seemed very playfully, in the same way that he used to call me "sister" sometimes when I tried to kiss him and stuff in public, so I'd stop and he'd be amused.
But then the worst thing that could happen, happened. There's a girl from school named Storm, and Jorge and me could never figure out if she's ever had a crush on Jorge or not because she's so mysterious, and she goes to the bakery a lot, so yesterday had to be one of those days. My heart sunk when she came in because I neither wanted her to think that Jorge and me were nor weren't going out. I wanted to go in the kitchen when I saw her, so I could hide, but I didn't want Jorge to get pissed at me for going there without his permission, because he never cared, but yesterday he had rules for everything. I figured it was because there weren't any adults there that day. So I just kinda stood there, staring at Storm, without doing anything, and Jorge asked her to take me out from behind the counter. I didn't anticipate that request, so I waited for her to escort me, since I couldn't bring myself to do it myself at that point because I couldn't fathom the multitude with which I felt insulted. She escorted me in a way that seemed to suggest that she thought I wasn't dating Jorge and that I was trying to win his heart and that he wanted me to leave. I was so heartbroken, that the moment she left my side, I went behind the far end of the counter to save myself the embarrassment of sitting at a table doing nothing, while he and Storm chatted away. It didn't seem fair at all. Especially since he hadn't talked to me the entire time I was there. Not as a conversation. He then asked her AGAIN to remove me since technically I was behind the counter even though that was only like a step away from the table. At that point I was exasperated. And then the school's volleyball team came in. I wanted to leave the moment they entered, to save myself the embarrassment of leaving before Storm did, but my dad hadn't yet arrived. I kept facing the wall behind the counter (with a big rack behind me so no one would notice) and I played the Alien Scum game on my phone until he did come. The team was still there, so I bolted outside without looking to see if I knew any of them.
Later on, I called Jorge and asked him why he had embarrassed me, and he said, "I embarrassed you?" So I replied, "Yeah..." He reacted as if what I had said was quite audacious. "Well, to me, it looks as if you embarrassed me. But I don't think you want me to talk about that right now because there's a guy here who goes to your school, and he's about to learn more of our problems." I didn't really care because I wanted an answer, so I started to clarify what I had already asked, and he hung up on me.
So then I called him at 8:40 because I have free minutes after 9:00, but I couldn't wait that long. He didn't pick up. He called me back at 9something. And apparently, he didn't know why I had called. So I asked, "What did I do that embarrassed you?" Rage flooded his voice, and he went on and on about how he treats his friends in and outside of work. Which was awkward because when we were friends, he didn't treat me like he treated his other friends when he was outside of work. He didn't neglect to mention that the box-folders asked what was up with me, and he replied, "I don't know why the fuck she's acting that way, or if I'm being used. And if she's using me, then I guess I'm letting her."
The conversation hit me hard. It took such a toll on me that when he was done speaking, I made him wait a while before I could even attempt words, for they wouldn't come to me, and I was so choked up. I cried so much that I had like the second worst head ache of my life, that I can remember. Perhaps I had worse headaches on the worst days of my life, but was too enraged with myself to notice them at all.
When I was together enough to raise a point, I simply stated that, "It's just that I thought we were more than that." I wound up citing the conversation we had last on the phone where I said several times that I "would" go out with him, but he ignored me every time because he was too busy thinking about sentences I said before saying that I'd go out with him, so he used selective hearing to block out what did not pertain.
I doubt that I'm going to see him much at all now. He doesn't go to school, I'm not allowed to go over his house, he's too lazy and tired and moody from work to go to my house or-moreso-to go elsewhere with me, and now I'm too ashamed to go to his bakery because he can clear things up to the two of three box-folding people he knew-but not to Storm. He'd forget, maybe she'd forget. But I always looked up to her, and since she saw me defeated, I don't want to come anywhere near that building she visits so much ever again, although circumstances-possibly desperation to see my lover-will probably force me to do so in the future.
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| A Childish Little Girl Who Falls For Dictatorial Mature Working Men |
[Sep. 19th, 2006|08:36 pm] |
I've spoken with Emo-haters before. Some merely say, "go die you emo cunt!" However, there are others who explain that what irritates them is the fact that people in the United States are privileged, so they have no right to complain about trivial matters, and if there's something in need of progressive intervention, something must be DONE (as oppose to writing poems about it).
Don't get me wrong, this entry is not about Emo kids. I am, rather, reflecting on personal embarressment towards complaining about something that isn't worth complaining towards.
I went out with Jorge, he broke up with me for a while because I didn't like-like him until our relationship was ending. But we remained friends. And, subsequently, we got back together. If you count the month numbers of when we were together, we lasted almost 4 years.
But he already had a younger brother [age: 11], and then his mother had a new baby, and got pregnant with another one. And then her boyfriend, father to the two babies, left. So Jorge had to drop out of highschool after Junior year to work at the family bakery. Naturally, I'd want a boyfriend that I could see every weekday at school. I also love to hang out with people and go places. He became too moody and too exhausted to even come to my house.
Since he was my first boyfriend, he agreed to let me go out with him after I independently learn life's lessons/make my own choices/try new experiences on my own for a year and a half-unless I, "commit suicide or fall in love with another guy, or girl."
A day later I went out with Ryan, who I've had a crush on for as long as I've known Jorge [and vise versa]. He thought that he was in love with me. But he hates me unconditionally. I have to be particularly silent about being bisexual because he considers that the same as being a lesbian, which revolts him, so the notion alone is enough to allow for himself to break up with me.
When I was with Jorge, I did evolve drastically. For about a year, I was icy and ruthless. I called him, "my bitch," and I disliked being anywhere near him. I'd even sit at a table, and he'd kneel on the floor next to me. But he's a creature of feeling. So, to reclaim him after our break-up, I became a dress-wearing [Oh, how I used to run from the very thought. It was a nightmare because I always desired to be girly and doll-like, but I convinced myself that that wasn't what I really wanted, because I didn't want to be "stupid," as such girls are labeled.], hugging-my-boyfriend-to-death, expressive [I used to be entirely silent. And, when I spoke, viciously rude.] feminine girl. And I never ceased to perfect the image.
I didn't want to loose friends to my excessive complaints, so I worked very hard and fast on amplifying my social skills, which, in my case, are astonishing levels of giddyness, ditzyness, clumseyness, gullibility, and naivity. And it worked out perfectly. And it made me even girly-er.
And now Ryan needs me to destroy it all and assume robot-clone position.
He's entirely certain that I'm the most idiotic person he ever met. And he made sure that I understood that. I thought he was emphasizing that just to feel better by demeaning me, but apparently he meant for it to be a signal to stop being childish and snuggly.
So, yesterday, he was pretty out of it, and said it was because he wasn't feeling well. That night, I recieved a call from my friend Juan. Aparently, he slipped on a wet floor, and can't use one of his legs, and will probably need a wheelchair. He's bummed out about it because he can't dance now.
So, today, I was REALLY looking foward to Ryan's mock-bliss side. The side I knew when he'd say, "I love you too," and when he'd kiss me. But today he was STIFF. When I walked next to him, instead of taking my hand, he'd keep his in his pockets. When I sat down, he'd remain standing. When I'd play with hair, he'd readjust his position and inch away from me. I even tried to massage his shoulders, and he reacted VERY strangely. He looked amused, and pulled me off him.
I didn't think it was I, however, who was tormenting him. And I didn't want to ask, because he never answers the questions I ask him anyway. After he left, I hung out with my friend Daniel for a while. When I got home, Ryan was online, so I asked if it was me who was bothering him, and, of course, it was. It always is. I've always asked him what he didn't like about me so that I wouldn't get hit with everything at once, on the edge of break-up. But he's convinced that I'm never right about anything.
And, I quote, his reasons for being a statue today...
"you're lazy, you don't respect the fact that sometimes i have shit to do, you're a slut. you're not going to change, because you're not going to grow up. you're immature, in every possible way i can think of that the word is defined. you embody immature. and i can't stand it. we're fucking adults."
We're not over yet, but if I don't entirely convert myself to that... shell... of a person he needs me to be, then he WILL break up with me. And I'll probably write suicide notes and a really ghetto will [as I don't actually know what a will looks like] and maybe a final letter to my two penpals [not suicide notes, just normal letters]. Then I might drink poison. I'm too wussy to cut my wrists to the bloody extent of death.
My friend, Trent, who saved me the last time I was going to kill myself, was online subsequently after the harsh reality. But he didn't im me. So I didn't im him. That would be excess and burdenfull. Instead I whined to the aforementioned Daniel. I'm sorry to say that he lacks the unscripted talent to talk even your stereotypical opinion-swayed, dependent Preppy girl out of driving off a cliff. But he at least tried. I think he tried very hard, infact. Especially for someone who's not on his MySpace Top8.
And, I quote, his piteous attempts...
"please don't go to pieces. please talk. talk. now. but don't change because someone wants you to. change if you want to. please tell me what you're thinking. heather?"
" :( you shouldn't do that. i'd give you the world, but the world is not enough. bye bye heather. *heart* "
Had he not intervened though, I would need a knife to cut my thighs [I don't want my parents seeing my battle scars.].
So my parents want to waste what little money they have on counseling because I don't feel comfortable talking to them.
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| From The Frontman Of Dashboard Confessional |
[Mar. 19th, 2006|08:12 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Rihanna - S.O.S. | ] |
OMG CHRIS FROM DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL ANSWERED MY QUESTION!!!
I did a search on a movie and wound up on a message board and I came across the mother of a girl who is a close friend of Chris Carrabba [Who does the theme song for Spider-Man2!!!]! She even says that her and her daughter are going to try to get me a pass to MEET Dashboard Confessional backstage!! And even if they can't, they're going to be kind enough to let me know when DC's playing in Florida. ^----^
The reason the topic of Chris came up was because I associated Emo with death, and the lady wanted to know Chris's take on what I said, since-according to her-Emo is associated with life.
THIS IS CHRIS'S RESPONCE:
My emo experience has always been based on life, not death. I started writing songs as my way of coping with this world, as a therapeutic process. I don't see a connection with death in emo other than the death of relationships or the death of pretense and if there are messages to what I write/what I want my band to express it is "Don't let yourself down. Be true to yourself. Face yourself and move on with your life." I believe that people who go to a Dashboard Confessional show are there not only to participate which is part of life but often to purge themselves of emotional baggage which is also part of life. Remember that emo music is nothing new. Its just a way to distinguish the sentimental songs of punks from the rest of society and I try to write things that say "Let your true self out more instead of keeping up an image that isn't really you."
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| "How Come I Must Know Where The Passion Hides Its Feelings?" |
[Feb. 1st, 2006|10:01 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  discontent | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | dot hack//SIGN - Obsession | ] |
My God, I feel so under-appreciated.
My mom is trying to force me to share her Christian beliefs by playing Christian rock all day long, by inviting me to Christian rock consorts, by making me go to Church with her every other Sunday, by hanging a rosary & crosses in my room, and so on.
My Church's Priest is trying to help me with my religious distraught, but he suggests that I go on a pilgrimage so I can be open to callings, which would be great advice, except I'm not leaving for Spain until the summer, and I feel that I MUST pray at a Roman Catholic Cathedral there. But that is the summer. And I must endure what's to come before then. I feel so disaffiliated with my Church and, since I'm only brave by means of e-mail, I feel that my Priest doesn't see my dependence upon him. I had even enclosed a photograph of myself at the end of an e-mail for seemingly no reason, yet it was because I need him to know me, which is why I also sign those e-mails with my full name.
My boyfriend is trying to resist me because he hopes that I will get bored with him and by the summer, I would be so disinterested that I would date Spanish men during my stay in Spain. I would rather have him come with me if I could, but perhaps I need an escape from my interdependence of his sense of direction, his domestic skills, his decisiveness. I suppose that is why I received an offer that I chose over visiting Mexico, in which case he might've came along with me.
But it isn't just freedom-freedom of religion & freedom of empowerment-it's prevention that concerns me.
My Love is evading what I ask of him and what I offer him in hopes that he may do so until summer in hopes of me meeting someone who he would consider to be worthwhile.
It's disappointing that he cannot rid himself of that idealistic mindset. I fear it will always persist. However, I don't actually believe that it would. Not after marriage. Whether that is impossible or not, it is probably a result of my own idealism.
But I've been trying so hard lately to make our relationship work and to please him. He's obsessed with me, so the things that I do for him seem like almost no effort at all in his opinion.
* I've tried to act interested in things that he's interested in, even asking questions about them because I know he enjoys ranting. But he doesn't take notice.
* I've alwaystried so hard to never hurt him. He feels that I do so all the time physically and mentally. He won't explain his logic to me because he doesn't like to be reminded of it. He forces himself to forget almost everything.
* I've spent days on a LJ entry just for him because he was really upset that we kept trying to avoid being sexual, but when one wasn't sexual, that innocence made the other sexual. In the entry, I included hundreds of things to do. They took me forever to research. And he refused to even look at it.
He won't even let me benefit him.
* I beg him to sit down at lunch because I can't hug him while I'm standing since I have to hold my lunch. But he sits the second Kate comes because they play Egyptian Rat Screw. Kate always invites me to play, but my reaction time is even too slow to slap into the game.
* He gets so upset when I accidentally hurt him, but he thinks it's funny when Kate playfully hits him when he slaps the card deck before her in Rat Screw.
* He complains that we don't go anywhere because he doesn't have any money. So he hangs out with Elffie most weekends. He finally got money from his friends as birthday gifts. But his mom makes him spend his money on her. FAST.
I asked him to let me hold onto the money so he can spend it gradually. He says that I'll probably spend it myself. That hurts me on several levels. A few minutes before I offered to hold onto it, he tried to give money to Elffie because Elffie was hungry. And like 2 days before this happened, he neglected to keep track of my DVDs as promised, so someone has two of my DVDs. If he was trying as hard as he believes he did to find them, he would have contacted all of his friends by the following day, at most.
He could let me hold onto the money incase he can't figure out who has my movies, in which case he would have to pay me back, as promised. But if he keeps that money, he's gonna spend it. FAST. He already owes me like 60 bucks, without counting the DVD replacement costs. For his birthday, he only received 30 bucks.
And when I told him those concerns, he was greedy about it, as always. He only defended his side by saying that he's trying to get my DVDs back. Whatever. Greedy.
* I try to force myself on him so he will kiss me back or hug me back, but he doesn't let me.
* I beg him to give me orders because I love being a slave for him, but he wants to be my slave, but I won't let him, so he doesn't even call me Slave anymore. I simply love serving him. But he disapproves because I can only do sexual things, since I'm not accustomed to housework.
Some kind of Maid, right? Can't even use a dish-washing machine. |
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| Kissed By A Rose On The Grave |
[Jan. 19th, 2006|12:49 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  inspired | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Seal - Kiss From A Rose | ] |
EXCERPTS FROM...
Mystery Man Places Roses on Poe Gravesite
By KASEY JONES, AP
01/19/06 05:06 EST
Updated: 10:18 AM EST
AOL Entertainment News
BALTIMORE (Jan. 19) - For the 57th straight year, a mystery man paid tribute to Edgar Allan Poe by placing roses and a bottle of cognac on the writer's grave to mark his birthday.
Jerome, curator of the Poe House and Museum, said early Thursday he had to chase people out of the graveyard, fearing they would interfere with the mystery visitor's ceremony.
Jerome has seen the mysterious visitor every Jan. 19 since 1976.
But Jerome declined to reveal details of what the Poe toaster was wearing, what he did at Poe's grave, and whether he left anything besides the roses and cognac, such as a note.
It was a the crisp, cold, clear night. "I was hoping for wind and rain in keeping with a Poe story," Jerome said.
"I hope to preserve this tribute. It's one of those things that make Baltimore so unique," he said.
For decades, a frail figure made the visit to Poe's grave. In 1993 the original visitor left a cryptic note saying, "The torch will be passed." A later note said the man, who apparently died in 1998, had handed the tradition on to his sons.
Poe, who wrote poems and horror stories such as "The Raven" and "The Telltale Heart," died Oct. 7, 1849 in Baltimore at the age of 40 after collapsing in a tavern.
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| Since I Won't Be Around This Christmas, Here's One For You, Baby. |
[Dec. 23rd, 2005|11:10 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  flirty | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Standstill - I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus | ] |
MCR Greeting Made By arewn.
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE - ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU
I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.
I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree.
I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know.
Make my wish come true.
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.
I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.
And I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree.
I don't need to hang my stockin' way above the fireplace.
Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas day.
And I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know!
Make my wish come true!
Oh Baby, all I want for Christmas is you!
You, Babe.
Baby...
I won't ask for much this Christmas, I won't even wish for snow.
I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe.
I won't make a list and send it to the North Pole for St. Nick.
Won't even stay awake to hear the magic reindeer play.
Cuz I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.
What more can I do?!
Oh Baby, all I want for Christmas is you!
You, Babe.
Ba-Ba-Baby!
Oh, how our lives are shinin', surroundin' everywhere.
Where the sound of childrens' laughter fills the air.
And everyone is singin'.
Oh, I hear those sleigh bells ringin'!
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need?!
Won't you bring back my Baby to me?!
I don't want a lot for Christmas, this is all I'm askin' for.
I just want to see my Baby standin' right outside my door.
I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know!!
Make my wish come true.
All I want for Christmas is you!
You, you, you, you, you, you, you!!
All I really want is you!!!
All I really want is you!
You, you, you!!!
All I really want is you!!
You, you, you!
All I really want is you.
All I really want is you.
All I really want is you.
All I really want is you.
You, you, you, you, you, you, you... |
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| "Flowers Fade, The Fruits Of Summer Fade. They Have Their Seasons, So Do We." |
[Dec. 23rd, 2005|06:22 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  loved | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Phantom of the Opera - Think of Me [Christine] | ] |
I get emotions all mixed up everywhere. But... that's kinda good.
Yesterday I got an offer to go to college during the summer to study abroad in Europe and after school I'd go sight-seeing and stuff with the tour group. I want to go, but I totally don't want to go. It's cool to be earning some college cred. after my Junior year, but studying abroad is the problem. You see, I am completely and utterly bored to death when it comes to anything that has to do with England, but England's my only choice because I don't know any foreign languages. I read the itinerary for England and it sounded like a royal nightmare. Whereas, I read the itinerary for Salamanca, Spain [which I've already been to] and it sounded like a dream come true. I'm not that, that bad at Spanish, so I dragged myself to our freezing cold family room to test my smarts by watching a novela on the Mexican channel [Telefuturo]. I understood some of it, but that won't do me any good. Especially since Liberal Arts, Law, Science, and Medicine are the college's departments, which are torture enough in themselves.
Later, my parents went to Universal Studios and I went to Jorge's house. His mom offered to take me and Jorge out to dinner. But she's always yelling at the other people at her job on her work phone (which is nerve-wrecking when she's driving) and I think she forgot so we wound up going with Jorge's brothers and some girl who works at Jorge's mom's job. The only thing she said to me the whole time was "You clicked me at 7 in the morning." Luckily she said it amused. I looked down at my soda and quietly *forced* a laugh and said "It was accidental." When we got back to the house, I asked Jorge to remind his mother (she HAD paid me in ribs from T.G.I. Fridays after all), but he said that she must be busy because when she wants something, she'll get it. Having a conversation with his mom means that she'd go through her rules and everything she doesn't like about me that she'd like to say to my face. Which would suck in public because I'm so sensitive that thinking of her name can make me cry due to thoughts I have that are associated with her. But when she forgot to speak with me I wanted her to remember because she made me go through such a long, stressful wait before she got to the house to pick us up.
After the restaurant, Jorge and I watched The Stepford Wives. Ironically, the day before yesterday, I had written a 20-page letter to my cousin Melissa, and at the end of the letter I had written about how confusing it was when Jorge and I switched leadership roles in our relationship by the minute. I realized that when I was ruthless and a lonewolf (even with a boyfriend), I was repressing the things I wanted. That is to say, I was determined to be so masculine, that after roughly after 14 years (my mom's influence throughout my life surfaces in some home movies) I became disgusted by it. The same thing with Rap. So now I'm a rock addict and so old-fashioned (to my standards) that it truly must be sickening. After all, I used to hate Animé girls who are like that (I've never met an IRL girl with that personality.). I know girls can have ownage. Let *them* set an example. *I* love roses and pretty dressies and stuffed animals and chocolate chip cookies. I don't want to have to make decisions and have to explain things and have to stress myself. Not when I don't have to. It allows for me to be ever so happier and have the availability to make my lover feel better.
After seeing the movie, which was beautiful, I couldn't help but ask Jorge about his thoughts. He was flawlessly shrew, as he always is. He said that he likes the equality and spontaneity of switching roles all the time, which surprised me because once he joked that "Girl, you need to decide soon cuz I can't keep getting operations down there all the time." And then he showed me what it would be like if I didn't have *any* power.
"O.K. then, my Stepford Wife, you're going to learn how to cook and clean and you have to brush your teeth every day and floss every day and take a shower every day and brush your hair every day and you can't wear leather dominatrix stuff and we'll have like three more kids every day but they won't come from there cuz you get to be a virgin for life."
Aww, I guess I can't assume total submission because I don't want to be a virgin. :P
The jeans I wore are ripped beyond hope and when he held me, they just ripped more [I went to the restaurant with a lot of my underwear showing...]. But after we talked a while, Jorge put his hand on my thigh where there was a rip and I giggled. He was confused. "It tickles!!" So we had a bunch fun: him tickling my neck and rips at the same time and me playfully fighting them off. It was awkward though because Jorge's mom went in the kicken as soon as Jorge started tickling me so Jorge and I are sure that she thought we were doing some wrong things, lol. But luckily that didn't kill it because Jorge said,
"I just *love* it when I get to hear you giggle! It makes me want to marry you and just keep marrying you all over again."
When my parents called to say they were almost at the house, I somehow managed to find the right words to something I've been trying to say for days. Allow me to emphasize "right words." Not well-spoken words, but just enough to get my point across for a change.
Me: You know how I was saying how Juan talks about girls as if they don't have boyfriends cuz he wishes he had one. Like, instead of "If I could do it with you," it's "When we bang."
[Jorge made a ick-don't-remind-me expression.]
Jorge: Yes.
Me: Well, that's why I keep telling you the things that he says to me. I deffinately don't want to. It's because I care about you and I don't want you to get the wrong impression if he words things strange.
Jorge: I love you so much, and I really appreciate your loyalty.
[He kissed my lips as I let some tear drops fall from having been so moved. I get pleanty of I "LOVE YOU!!!!"s but I'm not accustomed to recieving unfeigned remarks. Moreover, it's immensely uncommon of us to see situations eye-to-eye. Since there weren't any lights on, I wanted him to know that such beauty can bring me to tears.]
Me: Want to kiss away my tear drops? I like that too.
[He beamed and caught them all.]
 |
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| "But you're beautiful tonight, so lie... it's all right." |
[Dec. 18th, 2005|09:05 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  melancholy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Bo Bice - Lie...It's All Right | ] |
Juan finally told me about himself. He delayed it because he doesn't want people to worry about him due to his problems. Or at least that's what he says. I don't exactly concur, for he claims that he would have already skipped to his last resort if it weren't for his friends. Thus, I believe he needs his friends to share his dilemmas with so he can receive their supportive feedback in exchange.
He somehow found the entry in my blog where I was wondering why every time I called him, he'd say that he'd call me back, but didn't and didn't really acknowledge it. Apparently he had an excess of stress building up when he saw the entry, and reading it killed him. He feels really guilty so he's going to try to make up for it by calling me on a regular basis [as oppose to never]. I don't know how frequent his "more often" is, but I know that he's at least going to try to call me today or tomorrow. I'm glad. Well, it depends when he calls though. I have free weekend, but I only have free weekdays after 9:00. If he does, he probably will call late though. Our conversation yesterday started at around midnight, lol.
What he was saying on the phone was so eerie because some of the things sound like my own problems. Like how he can't control his tendency to lye to most of his friends, which makes several of them leave him.
That reminds me of the ordeal with Lena, except I wasn't lying; she just wouldn't believe me. Which made me feel like I was lying. And my stupid parents eavesdropped some of it and were yelling at me to be on Lena's side because she walked with me to our bus stop in the morning at the time. Luckily we're still friends. Thanks to the fact that we somehow had all the same classes together this past semester, except Psychology because she had it this semester and I'll have it this coming semester.
But what really, really reminds me of what he said is when Jorge was upset because he believes that I will lye to him and that I probably have lied to him because I lie to my parents about everything. About what I do at Jorge's house. About what Jorge and I do when we're at my house. About why they should let me go over Jorge's house. About me doing my homework. About me being sick so I can stay home from school to work on my homework. About me crying. About a million other things. I can't even remember other reasons because I lye to them all the time without realizing it really.
But it's sad that Jorge has to fear me lying to him. The only time I've ever done that was when I told him that we had to leave for a movie by 6:00 because I really missed him so I didn't want us to go straight to the theatre at 6:30; I wanted to be with him a while.
I guess you can also say that I lied when I said "I love you" to him for the first time, because love is eternal. But I really did love him-that night. School was so chaotic because his friends avoided me and Mesha's friends threatened to beat me up, and Mesha demanded to know why I didn't like Jorge. So when Jorge and I were talking on the phone about it, it seemed so amusing and so ludicrous that we had a really fun time laughing about it. We were laughing. The first time we went out, we didn't even hold hands. It felt like a handcuff to me. But that night we were laughing.
I loved him. I love him. |
|
|
| "LoveSong For The Dear Departed.Headstone For The Broken-Hearted.Hours To Kill For Flowers To Steal" |
[Dec. 15th, 2005|06:23 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | adolescent | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Korn - Love Song | ] |
I'm extremely submissive and I tend to be empathic. My blazing fault lies in my binges of idealism.
I want to get tattoos and body piercings really badly [my hair is too fair to dye], but Jorge is positively disgusted by them. I can't even get another ear piercing. If I get an aforementioned, Jorge won't even be friends with me. I can't really explain why because I'm not sure. The best way I can put it is that he hates it because it's not inborn. And if I want something he hates, it's all the better for him because he can use it as an excuse to never see me again. You see, he hates himself to the point of death [literally] so he wants me to be with someone handsome and successful. Thus, what he hates about himself most is the fact that he can't be unscrupulous enough to be so ruthless and vituperative to make me hate him. But he can't even allow himself to be angry when I'm around because he doesn't want anything to happen to me.
So basically, he loves me but he wants to get rid of me so he can ruin his life and so that I can marry someone who is supposedly "perfect."
Yesterday I was lusting for piercings because Jorge was wearing clip-ons which he tried on different parts of his eyebrows, ears, nose, lips, and tongue. We were in Spanish class, but it was the last day of the semester for those not taking the final exam, so we didn't have any work except optional review worksheets for those taking finals. He wanted to work on the worksheets together because he didn't have a book. We never get anything done when we work together. So he had fun teasing me with the clip-ons because he knew that I have the hots for guys with piercings. I didn't care if it was once in a while, but it was virtually the whole class period. I missed him [I don't see him much-to my standards-outside of school.] so I didn't ask to be left alone. I tried to work and ignore him, but that totally didn't work because at the beginning of the year, our teacher said she would take points off any of her students' grades for being inappropriate in school, such as "sucking-face in front of building five." Jorge sooo wanted to she how mad she would get if she saw him leaning on me/kissing me/hugging me. So I had to make sure he didn't.
But that was serious torture because it made me want to get pierced EVERYWHERE. Since I was flaming about not being able to get piercings, he kind of figured that I would rather get pierced than date him. I corrected him, but begged and begged for compromise. He wouldn't give me one, so I went back to work. I turned to chapter 3, and he instantaneously darted to the drawing for the word war. His eyes lit up and he swooned over the page with a dripping lust.
"THAT I like. If you let me go, you can SO get all the tattoos and whatever you want. You HAVE to let me be in the army."
"Nope."
"Navy?"
"No, you're not allowed to join the marines or the air force or whatever for any country, even if it doesn't exist."
"Aw. ...Then I can be in Hawaii."
"Hawaii is a state in America."
"No, there's 50 states."
"No, there's 51. Alaska's also a state."
"But that's the 50th state, isn't it?"
"I think so, but I think there's 51 states."
"Ask somebody. I bet they'll tell you there are 50 states."
"There's 51."
"Then I can fight for Puerto Rico."
"That's an island. ..Ack. Well islands don't count either."
"Aw."
So then we started talking about Puerto Rico. But what he said wouldn't escape my brain. The fact that there IS a possibility of having what I want and still being with him. I even had this cruel, idealized daydream of him going to war while I study in college without caring about relationships or whatever and then he comes back after two years of college or whatever. So now I totally hate myself because the LAST thing I want [other than him leaving me or him killing his self] is him joining militial forces. People with depression shouldn't even be allowed to fight for this country. I mean, what if someone accidentally dies because of him? Then he'll just kill himself without hesitation because he'd have the equipment in hand all ready. And people who come from armed forced are so corrupted from what they've seen and from the steadfastness they have been taught. I love MY Jorge, not AMERICA'S Jorge. He shouldn't have to change just because he thinks videogames would be fun in real-life. And imagine if he signed up without my permission???
Watch Green Day's video for "Wake Me Up When September Ends."
But think about it even worse. At the least, I'd probably cut myself every day. I'm crying, about to vomit, have a head ache, and am dizzy just thinking about the word "army."
Jorge's mom makes him work for her sometimes. It's a construction & demolition company. Which scares me. Once he became faint because he was working with mold. Another time he was faint because he was completely drenched in sweat [during a Florida summer] even though he only had boxers on. It's terrifying. Can't he borrow one of Elf's gas masks?!!
I seriously don't know what I'd permit him to work as if we live together or whatever. He says he wants a job that will "help people." Vague. He wanted to be a doctor. How ludicrous considering his grades. Maybe he could be a psychologist like I wanna be. But I wouldn't know if he'd want to or not. Oh dear. I just really don't know.
I just want to protect him. |
|
|
| "...Don't Let This Magic Die..." |
[Dec. 13th, 2005|07:40 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  embracive | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Weird Sisters - Magic Works | ] |
My best friend and I are saying how much we love/miss each other in our LJs. She wrote mine for Dec. 13, 4:31 pm. Visit hers at:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/anime_tigress/
Since my move as of three years past, my dearest of companions was my grandest sacrifice. And I suppose I abandoned part of myself in the process. In terms of depth, she is perceptive, abstract, spiritualistic, and conservative. I'm proud that she has grown into such a receptive individual (I used to call her Mihoshi!) and I am blessed with having a friend with whom I may exchange philosophies with. But that's Laura on the inside.
When I'm with her in person, as oppose to online, I'm with the Laura that I've always known. My Laura. My giggly, shy, agreeable Laura.
The Laura with whom I made a home photoshoot of [at one of my Halloween partys] as us [and Rachael] being karate fighting cosplayers in a Crypt Keeper's tale. Where my mom killed me at the end after I killed you, I think. Juliet Must Die!!!
The Laura whom I went alone with to a Chinese food restaurant where the workers seemed to be talking about us in Chinese. So I sang "Cats In The Kettle" and further discomforted her by saying how girls dating is normal to the Japanese so that was probably what the Chinese people were saying about us.
The Laura who stayed with me at my aunt & uncle's Seaside Heights beach house. Where we got sick from an Italian food restaurant that kicked in when we were almost all the way down the boardwalk and had to power walk to the opposite end. When we reached the opposite end, hot ghetto guys thought we were good-looking, but they were already going up a cable car. As we climbed up the sand dunes, we got busted by a hott cop [in like his 20's] who let us get away with taking the illegal short cut [$200.00 fine].
When I'm not with her, that warmth and welcome in her nature is lost to me. Instead, I'm left with a distant comfort and optimism towards our next encounter. For when we do meet, it's as if we've never departed.
Before I moved, I dedicated "Pikachu's Goodbye" to her and she cried...
You know, years ago, she even said that we'd be best friends forever... |
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| "...Maybe We Didn't Understand. Not Just A Boy And A Girl. It's Just The End Of The World..." |
[Dec. 12th, 2005|07:48 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | reflective | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Cure - The End Of The World | ] |
I feel it's fairy unnecessary for parents to have a say in something that doesn't involve them directly. I guess I don't understand that notion because when I need to talk to someone or just need to say something, I write [whether it's in my blog, on text message, on instant message, or by letter].
So that's where the telling my parents what I do predicament comes in. Yesterday, [hours after I posted in LiveJournal] Jorge asked me if I truly felt that telling my parents was right [He can't determine that on his own because his mom is virtually the exact opposite of mine.]. I studdered along the lines of "I don't know!" So he talked to his mom and his mom's boyfriend about it. They said stuff like "That's the stupidest thing you can say to your girlfriend's parents!! You're basically saying that you fuck their daughter and how you do it!!"
[Which definitely isn't true...]
They told him all sorts of stories about paranoid parents of people they've dated. So they completely scared him out of it. But while I was on hold [as they were talking] I thought about what he had asked me, and decided that we SHOULD tell my parents!!
Today I tried to get him to tell them, but he's too brilliant at talking me into or out of something. And also he said that he would only go with me if I did the talking instead.
Improvisation is my weakest point except when I'm lying. I can write down what I want to say and practice saying it over and over, but I'm bound to forget important points that I'd want to make.
Don't get me wrong, I really don't want to tell my parents, but now *I* feel kind of guilty. [And now he doesn't feel guilty at all.]
It's strange, isn't it? In the movie "Troy," he hates Paris because instead of dying with honor, he gives up the fight out of fear. He also dislikes Patroclus because he carelessly leads a battle out of anxiousness even though he knows that it is to his disadvantage. Do you not abhor yourself, my sweet?
Do I risk my relationship and bar my freedom for a cause or do re-indulge myself in my freedom's fruits so that I have no desire to spit the truth?
(Seriously, comment. Should I tell them or should I wait until I'm older or what?) |
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| "...If You Lived Here You'd Be Home Now..." |
[Dec. 11th, 2005|05:47 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | suppressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | No Doubt - Home Now | ] |
Jorge called. I got excited because I thought he had completed his homework. But his first words were, "Can we talk? ...About something serious. I mean, really serious."
As it turns out, he feels that if we are to ever have hope of getting married, of making our relationship work, my parents must know that we do sexual things with one another. He feels really guilty and he needs them to either get rid of him or to accept us being that serious with one another. He needs to "finally" feel allowed to be together [my parents don't even want us to hug].
I, on the other hand, feel that my parents would rather hear what they want to hear instead of the truth. And it's not like I feel comfortable telling them ANYTHING because they've never told me about personal things in their lives. I don't see how it's fair to ever bridge that gap.
In opposition to Jorge & his mom, where they know all about how their lives are and have been. Even to the extent of them feeling the same way about situations.
But why would anyone want to know how sad someone you care about is?
Jorge wants to tell both of my parents at the same time with me standing next to him so they know that we've discussed it as a couple. I told him to make sure I stay there. I really hope he makes me. Otherwise I'll probably run. The second he gets to his point, I'll probably run straight to my room. Or into my backyard. I'm so nervous. I'll probably distract my parents with my crying and drown out Jorge's voice with it. He asked me when I want to do this. I told him the truth: I never will want to. If I had to pick a certain time to tell them it would be when I'm 18 so they realize that I'm old enough to make these types of decisions. But I'm not. I'm just a kid by means of heart and mind.
Jorge wants to get this done before 2005 is over. In which case, I would have preferred today since I had already gotten all worked up over it. But we have a visitor who seems like he's going to be leaving fairly late and my parents are so happy to have him.
I'm going to North Carolina for Christmas [and a few surrounding days] so I had considered telling them the day prior so they would have time to cool off-but I don't think I want them to "cool off" on the road.
So tomorrow's the day. Bummer. If my parents say we can't date, then we're doomed unless they tell Jorge that they only said that out of anger. I hope they don't hit him, but I can see my mom doing so. Especially since once [a long time ago] she asked me if I do sexual things to him, I lied, she asked me if I was lieing, I said I wasn't, and then she said,
"Good cuz the last thing I need is a pregnant teenager."
I'm gonna warn my parents in advance that we're going to be giving them some very grave news. Hopefully, they'll assume that I'm pregnant so when we tell them that we've never actually had *sex*, they won't be AS mad. And that they would have cooled off from the wait. Rather than having been caught off guard. But can you ever truly be prepared for this kind of discussion?
Right after I proofread this entry, my dad called me to take photographs. And an awkward thing came up...
my dad: Yep, 16 years old. Don't you just wish you were in high school again?
Joe: High school, wow... Sixteen and you've never been kissed?
[my parents laughed]
my dad: I don't know!
my mom: I'm not so sure about that!
[my parents laughed again]
Joe: I was just joking. |
|
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| "Now I Stand Here Waiting..." |
[Dec. 11th, 2005|03:19 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  unimpressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Madonna - Hung Up | ] |
Man, and I thought today would make up my Friday and Saturday. Or at least that it wouldn't suck. Originally the plan was that my mom's friend was coming over as was some relative, for dinner [but they'd be here all day], so I could probably get away after a while or whatever.
I went to the clinic for my burn. The doctor said it won't leave any scars and it will completely go away in about a week. But I didn't get to get examined for a while because my dad left since he was told the wait would be an hour and a half. And I wasn't allowed to go in without him because I'm a minor. In the waiting room I read some magazine called Field & Stream which is about camping, fishing, and hunting. It had really cool, random information like how to get your kid interested in hunting, how to choose a puppy that will be a good hunting dog, how to make your Christmas tree into a fish nesting ground, etc. Plus other fun stuff like recipies for chili, ads for hunting videogames, fishing lure selling websites, funny stories [a SpongeBob soundbook button attracted deer??!], and so fourth. When my dad and I were waiting for the doctor, I told my dad that we should subscribe and sort the articles in a filing cabinet or something. He laughed and said that he did the same exact thing with the same exact magazine when he was a teenager. So we decided to go fishing in the near future.
Afterwards, we went to get the relative. Tahlia called on the way. She asked if I wanted to see Aeon Fleux at 1:45. I told her that I wouldn't be home until about 2 and that my parents would be happy to take her to a theatre where there are movies at 2 something if there are any listed in the newspaper. But she declined because she wanted to see a movie at 1:45. I don't understand why she didn't feel like waiting until later because she can't go to the movies unless she's with a girl and I was last on her short list of girl friends. But that's what she decided...
My mom suggested that I ask Jorge and if he was still at Elfie's, that I should invite them to [our 2:30] dinner. So I called.
"Heyyy!"
"I'm in an argument right now so bye."
Okaaay... I waited until I was 10 minutes from my house before I called him back. He said that he has to wash Lipsael's bottles, cook, do his homework, and do a project that he hasn't started yet. And also that from now on, he has to know BEFORE the weekend if he's gonna go somewhere during the weekend. I reminded him that on Friday I had asked him if I could go to his house on Sunday when he came back from sleeping over Elfie's house-but he didn't hear me remind him.
When I got home, I begged my mom to go to the movies with me, but she got mad and said that she won't leave because we have a guest. I got really upset and called Jorge again. I begged him to let me go to his house. He said no because I would either be in the same room & purposely distracting him or I would be in the living room & making him feel guilty that I would be all alone. I begged more, so he said he'd call me when he was done with his project & homework [in several hours]. I doubt I can even go when I DO ask my parents... |
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| ¡Ay, Ay, Ay! ¡Carajo! |
[Dec. 10th, 2005|11:11 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  paranoid | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Matchbook Romance - My Eyes Burn | ] |
¡Ay dios mio! Yesterday was hell, today was worse.
--------------------------------------------------
Today I went to Saturday school to make up two days of math class. But I don't even know how many days I have to make up for her class because we've had 3 different teachers for that class this year. Our first one just decided that he would leave and come back to teach NEXT semester [I guess he didn't like his classes.]. Then we got a teacher who was staying in Florida with family because of Hurricane Katrina. But on Fall Break he visited New Orleans to help his family rebuild and he decided that he'd rather stay there and help. So now we have a teacher that is new to the school. The problem with that is that new teachers aren't allowed to let students make up time with them. You see, you can make up two classes if you go to school on Saturday [and read, write, study, do homework, draw, color, and/or eat] from 8:30-about 11:00 or you can make up time with a teacher that isn't new. If you make up time with teachers, they don't generally keep you too long. But they make you work. Say you had to make up some days in T.V. Production. You'd have to go to school an additional day and work a ton of equipment and run a million errands to help out with whatever project Ms. Stempler decides to work on.
To make it even trickier, if you're 15 minutes late to class, it's an absence. If you're under 15 minutes late to a class, you're tardy-by 3 tardies equals an absence. I'm never late to my other classes, but it's hard getting to school on time and Liberal Arts Math is first period. So I have no idea how many Saturday schools to serve for her.
Not only her. In Principles of Technology I [beginners' Physics], we get a lot of substitutes. Subs aren't the most accurate at figuring out who's absent or not. So supposedly I have 10 absences in that class [max. for a semester course: either 7 or 8]. My teacher said to make up time with him Mondays and Fridays, where every 45 minutes counts as a class and that we'll be doing labs. But he hasn't been at school lately. He's been in a hospital with fever. But I don't know whether or not to wait for him to come back or if I should go to Saturday school because I don't know if I need to make up more days for my math teacher [there are 3 more Saturday schools for this semester].
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Tahlia didn't call. I checked for comments in her blog and in mine but there were none, so I left my contact information in hers [she only has my parents' cell]. I wanted to get her number from Jorge, but he wouldn't answer his cell so my parents got a little annoyed because they wanted to know if I was going to the movies today so they'd know how to shape their weekend plans. Later on I found out that Jorge left his cell at Elfie's house so I had to wait for Jorge to get it. He gave me Javier's number because Javier is friends with Tahlia and his dad knows Tahlia's number. I called three times, but no one answered. Even more later on, Jorge called and said that he forgot that Javier isn't going to be home for a few weeks because he's vacationing in Argentina and that Tahlia can't go anywhere on Saturdays.
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Worst of all, since Tahlia didn't call for the movies, my parents wanted to take me to Universal Studios to take photos for holiday cards to send to the family. I, IRONICALLY, told my mom to print out a photo of me from Halloween dressed as The Phantom of the Opera because my eyebrows were waxed very well at the time. She forgot to tell my dad to print it. So my dad, IRONICALLY, brought a photo of when I was in a BEAUTY contest, where my eyebrows were kinda thick, but still waxed.
My dad couldn't remember where he had taken me to get my eyebrows waxed for Halloween, so he just took me to some random salon. I chose not to get them done there because there was no room to sit and because I felt uncomfortable since everyone there was Japanese [although the guy that was there was really hott]. I've had enough bad experiences with people speaking in a language I don't understand in public places and within my family.
So we went to a random near-by place. The wait was over an hour, but I enjoyed it very much. It was small, multi-ethnical, had homely Christmas decorations [including the door sprayed to look like it had frost on it], A Very Brady Christmas was playing on the T.V., I was talking to a really funny lady, and there was even free Hazelnut coffee!
I've had my eyebrows waxed many times. The person will first contemplate the shape in correspondence with the person's facial structure. Then he/she will wax a little, put cloth on the spot, rub the cloth against the skin exerting a lot of force, then rip the cloth off quickly. He/she does so bit-by-bit for each eyebrow. Then he/she will brush the eyebrows, poke out excess hairs, and then trim the long hairs. Usually they'll put a cold, cooling cream on the eyebrows because usually they do get a bit sore.
HOWEVER, the guy clearly didn't know what he was doing. And I didn't know that if I sense a tingle/burn/etc. that I feel is unnatural, that I'm supposed to tell him/her so he/she stops doing so.
After glancing at the photo for a second, he rushed right into waxing. He outlined my ENTIRE left eyebrow [instead of part of it at a time] even though the wax went hard before he was finished, yet he continued to outline, seemingly with difficulty, of course. He put cloth on part of the eyebrow and barely tapped on the cloth before ripping it off. He continued in that same fashion. GODDAMN!!!!!!!! The wax was BURNING into my skin!!! He worsened the pain my brushing my eyebrow roughly, several times, and then poking excess hairs. He didn't trim the longer hairs. He put a tiny bit of aloe vera cooling cream on it. Then the same thing with my other eyebrow.
I went home and rinsed my eyebrows in cold water. The normal redness went away. But there remained a burn under my eyebrows, above my eyebrows, and in between them [It's common for the person to wax the middle as well. But unfortunately this guy did it lower down my nose than is necessary.]. I tried washing my eyebrows with soap and cold water. Then I broke an aloe vera leaf and covered my eyebrows in the substance. But the burn is still burning even now.
My dad and I went to the salon and asked if they'd pay the doctors' bills. They agreed. One girl suggested washing it with cold water. A lady suggested taking Benedrill because she has had a client who has had an allergic reaction to the aloe cream. But I knew they were wrong. As my dad was driving me to a clinic, my mom called. She said she was dressed because she was going to go to Hair Cuttery to kick their asses for burning her baby, but she figured she'd call to see how it went. I told her. She retorted, "They know it's none of that aloe bullshit!!" My dad arrived at the clinic. It was closed. We're gonna go tomorrow as soon as it opens. We were gonna go to the hospital, but my mom was right in warning me that I'd be there waiting for my turn until almost the morning any way. So we went to CVS. I wanted to punch that m-fing pharmacist because he chuckled and said "Wow, there's not much you can do with THAT except keep it cold with some aloe vera. Good luck with that."
My boyfriend doesn't really care either because he's had a bad day, as usual. At least he said he'd kiss my boo-boo. Ugh, but still, I'm so mad!! (Miserable./Alone.)
I wanna wear my phantom mask. Or a headband. Or a baseball cap. Or a baseball cap and a headband. The burn between my eyebrows is revolting. Maybe I can buy a headband and get permission from a clinic doctor to wear it in school even though it's against dress code. At least the burns under my eyebrows save me the trouble of applying red eye shadow... |
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mallot_wielder's journal
shaky
picky
caged-in
mischievous