Christmas

On Christmas Eve we have a tradition that is almost as old as I am in which my dad reads "Twas The Night Before Christmas" to all of the children. While I love that we have a tradition like this, it becomes a little more boring every year to feign interest enough so that when my mom takes pictures I don't look like a moron. This year wasn't so bad, I don't know why, but I found it easier to pay attention. I do enjoy listening to my dad read stories, he has a very soothing story-telling voice.

Christmas morning we have another tradition where we are not allowed to come downstairs until everyone is awake and my parents say we can (this usually ends up being around 7:00 or so), at that point there is a stampede down the stairs and a mad dash to the Christmas tree. We have a penchant for setting records of Christmas opening, this year was actually pretty slow, it took us all 15-20 minutes to get through all the presents, hahaha. I was ridiculously excited to open presents this year more than last year, because I knew I would be getting more than two presents (last year I got an iPod and a movie and a giftcard, end of story). Later, I began wondering when this would end for me, when would be the last Christmas that I could expect this level of happiness from presents that "Santa" gave me; when would be the last Christmas that it would be acceptable to ask for a Harry Potter lunch box (I got a new one, it's awesome) or any other "childish" gift like that.

Today my mom turns 45. Right now she is trying to master Guitar Hero. I think she has successfully completed one song thus far. :D

Confessions Should Come At Midnight

I've been thinking about it for a while and especially since seeing Milk. I need to tell all my friends something very important about myself. It's something that I used to consider a secret, but then I realized I didn't care who knew (except one person), it's just hard to bring it up randomly in conversation.

I'm bisexual.

Back in the summer before ninth grade I finally acknowledged this was part of who I am. Back then, I was sort of confused and wondered if the thoughts I was having automatically made me a lesbian. It took a year or so to realize that I could have it both ways, I could love who I wanted, I could lust after whatever kind of body that struck my fancy. How fantastic was this? I almost feel sorry for those who stick themselves to a single gender, haha.

I'm pretty sure that most of my friends will have no problems with this, but I am equally as sure that I have two friends that I can never tell for fear of losing them. Two people that don't understand that love is love as sex is sex. I can want what I want.

Randomness: I've been hanging around Ben Kweller's Myspace and I cannot believe how much of his music I am able to listen to through Myspace's new music player thing. It's so awesome!

Crush

I've only ever really had three crushes in my lifetime. The first was in fourth and fifth grade; his name was Mark D. he was adorable and our initials were the same so I thought that meant it was fate for us to be together. After that, every single time I told my friends who I had a crush on, it was a lie, I only pretended so that they wouldn't think I was weird or being secretive. Now I am 7-8 years older and can finally and honestly say I have a crush. Two actually. Both of these people are taken, one will always be taken and out of my reach, the other is probably only temporarily taken, but it matters not, for at the end of this year our roads will separate. I think that by being so realistic of the outcome of these inane fantasies that I probably should not call them crushes. If I know that both will go no where, what's the point? No one has ever wanted me in this way, and so I have decided the high school just was not my place to find love. Hopefully college will bear fairer fortune. For now I play the waiting game and flirt until it leaves me.

And So They Died

Emily Dickinson's last words: "I must go in, the fog is rising"

Elizabeth Barret Browning's last words (when asked how she was feeling): "Beautiful"

General Ethan Allen's last words (when told that the angels were waiting): "Waiting are they? Well, let them wait."

Edgar Allan Poe's last words: "Lord, help my poor soul."

George Bernard Shaw's last words: "Well, it'll be a new experience anyway."

Beethoven's last words: "Friends, applaud, the comedy is over."

16 Things: An Addendum

17. From the middle of junior year until now, I haven't had a healthy body image. I struggled a lot with it over the summer, and I am actually really glad I didn't do swim team because of my trip, because I don't think I would have been able to handle it. I don't know why I started thinking this way, I always used to not care at all and was proud of myself for doing so.
18. I have had to work really hard to get to this level of friendship I have with everybody, it took three years. I feel I might have missed out on so many things because I wasn't able to get close to others fast enough.
19. There are times when I am incredibly curious about suicide, and if it wasn't for my serious aversion to pain, I might have attempted it several times, especially when I am going through a bout of depression.
20. Sometimes I legitimately forget to breathe. When I realize that I've stopped, I can't remember the last time I took a breath, and breathing normally takes a while to even out again. It's actually pretty amusing when you think about it.

Despite all this, I am a legitimately happy person. I enjoy so much about life and I love so many people. It's just that most of my dark matter is carefully hidden within me, and thus is the only type of thing I have to share that no one knows. In fact, I only have two or three happy secrets among everything else. And I guess it's good that everyone knows most of my happy things already (aside from the few or the things conversation just has gotten around to yet).

Forget

It has only been recently, as in the past few months, that I have realized what my greatest fear is. I used to think that it was being trapped, and though that continues to terrify me, there is one thing that takes precedence over it. My greatest fear is: forgetting. The thought that memories I once held dear and close will somehow be lost to me, it stops my heart. Donna once told me that if it is important enough, I won't forget, but I can't help thinking what will happen if I do. That's why I keep post-it notes from every day in my assignment books, why I have a drawer and a shelf full of old school things, notes I'll never read again gathering dust just in case.

What's funny though, I can't wait to leave and start over again with new friends. That's almost a contradiction to my fear, but at the same time it's not, because I'll still carry everything with me so I won't forget. I just want to start again. Is that terrible of me? to wish to let go of everyone?

Beginning

Isn't it funny how time can be spent, wiled away without thought to consequences? Most days, nothing gets done, and it's the main reason that this year is slipping through my grasp. There is guilt, but a kind of guilt that is easily ignored, much like the chill of winter when in the right company. This is just another way to get through it all, another way to pretend, another way to be free. It won't be wasted, no matter what.