Letters to Preethi

These are excerpts from letters I meant to send to Preethi. They come from failed letters that tumblr deleted cuz it's bittersweet or I had fallen asleep before finishing. Either way, the moment had already passed for her. Here's a taste of what you're missing out on, all you people who aren't awesome Indian girls who were born in Pennsylvania and live in Texas and yearn to be some sort of anarchist but still enjoy living life as a super-smart teenager who with a few months of practice has become a phenomenal artist and likes to play the piano to free her soul and makes possibly damning jokes that rely on turning religions into puns. Just imagine you're that sort of person when you read these bits and pieces.

...

Dreams are terrifying. They're projections of your thoughts, wants, and secret wishes. They show what you love and what you fear, without the censoring of conscious thinking. They're also hard to forget. Dreams are worse than thoughts or words or actions; you know what you do and say and feel, but you can always justify, explain, correct, apologize. You have no control over your dreams, and yet, you are still held accountable for them. They always come from a real and true part of you, whether you like it or not.

...

This whole weekend, I've been thinking about how I feel so alone when it comes to the males in my life. I don't hardly have any guy friends here, whereas in Texas, I had boys I talked to when the teacher wasn't looking at church, boys who dated my friends, the other boy in guard who talked and sang to me on the sides, the boy who learned Taylor Swift for my birthday, boys who applauded me in English, boys whose rivalries with me grew into decent respect, boys that I met online or through texts, boys I danced with, the boys that somehow ended up in the Wannabeatniks, my dearest gay friend, and a best friend who became a boyfriend. Here, I have the great joy of being friends through association with boys who know my name and, if I'm lucky, my grade, a boy who mostly wants to talk to me whenever his awkward and possibly angry girlfriend is around, and the only boy I've ever been on a date, a sophomore I had to ask.

I'm tired of waiting for a guy to step up, to ask me out or eat lunch with me or give me a cookie. I'm tired of sitting and feeling like I've got "loser" stamped across my forehead whenever a boy talks to me. I'm tired of seeing all my friends and cousins' perfect proms and dates and friends, while only getting to dream of my own.

...

On another note, the band played at a Memorial Day service, which was so beautiful and great. A Presbyterian pastor gave the most poetic and gracious prayer I've ever heard, a man talked about how he can still remember a great-uncle who died fighting that he never met, and they read the names of those who fought and died from this area since WWI. I got to actually conduct for the first time, and the sound just filled the room like a teapot of warm feelings and teary eyes.

...

My mom told me today that her love for root beer was real love and that her sisters’ love for caffeinated sodas was only lust, a chemical reaction and addiction. I asked her to stop talking cuz it was sufficiently creepy.

So Close...

...and yet, here I am, stressing over my Astronomy final and Precalc review packets because I've been looking at People Of Walmart and dreaming about a certain unfortunately extremely attractive boy who I can't seem to stop thinking about in order to stop stressing about my Astronomy final and Precalc review packets.

The Men That Are Allowed In My Life

#1) Silas Olson: seminary class president extraordinaire, that boy is a saint. There's an excellent chance that I've learned more from him than our teacher. He's so energetic and positive and incredibly humble. He wouldn't tell us he won 2nd place in state wrestling since he was busy complimenting people inside and out of our class. Plus, you just have to laugh every time he dances during the books of the Old Testament song or proclaims that it is, yet again, the best day ever.

#2) Stephen Torrence: Once upon a time, he made some very famous ASL interpretations of songs, most often by the clever and hipsterish Jonathan Coulton. He has quit making ASL videos due to the fact that he doesn't want to offend the Deaf community in any way and that he still has a lot to learn about the language. He now makes videos where he asks the YouTube community a question and then actually talks about the comments and responses he receives. He mentioned Nerdfighters and wears glasses that make him look like Captain Simms. He is nerdy and intriguing and completely acceptable.

#3) John and Hank: They're a package. Though I am beginning to lose my complete and unconditional adoration with them (perhaps they've changed, perhaps it's me), they are still and may always be a source of inspiration, entertainment, and greediness for their wonderfully and perfectly, albeit a little too expensive, nerdy shirts and posters and stuff. They're just a part of me.

#4) Logan and Cameron: but only if they keep working on actually helping me and Caitlin figure things out and cutting down on their inside jokes. Otherwise, they're relegated to familial levels, where I have to be around you a lot, but that doesn't mean I am in love with everything you do, at all.

#5) Last, but certainly not least... The Gorgeous Talented Sexy Like Really Sexy Adam Levine: We're getting married.

Every Single Time

Your words, not mine. And yet it was as if they had come straight from my heart. You and I are completely different, but we have been and will be, perhaps forever, the same. To think that only two hours ago, I was ranting to Preethi about how frustrated I was, how inconsiderate you were, how miserable and stupid and hurt we both were. There's an excellent chance that in a day or two, I will be saying, "To think only days ago, I had such care, you had such apologies, we both were trusting and loving and honest." That's how we seem to roll, how we rolled from day one, perhaps. That's what happens when a bipolar kid with a hard life and a kid too crazy for anyone's good become too good of friends.

No need to cry about it
I cannot live without it
Every time I wind up back at your door

Why do you do this to me
You penetrate right through me
Every time I wind up back at your door

No need to cry about it
I may just die without it
Every single freakin Hoover Dam time I wind up back at your door

That last line may have been edited^^ but who is singing this song? Me? You? The both of us?

Whoever runs off makes it back first.

the little guys

I went to arena football game tonight with my family. I realized that even though we fight and yell and sometimes things just seem to get so awful between us, we can always have a fun time together. I also learned that sometimes it's fun to experience random and odd and seemingly useless things just for the sake of experiencing them. I learned what arena football even is, and I learned that Isaac is capable of making really lame/clever jokes and that Abram found the greatest joy when he spotted a large Ford logo on the floor and proceeded to lay down on dirty concrete to have his picture taken with it.

Somehow, I always end up taking care of him. And tonight I realized that I'm okay with that. I'm okay with being his friend who he turns to in his time of need. I may not be his smartest or funniest or hottest or closest friend ever again, but he trusts me. Even though what he's done gives me pretty legitimate reason to not give a crap, I still help him and in the process find about more reasons why I should dislike him. But I forgive him and let it go. I have nothing to gain by chasing our past and everything to gain by looking to our future. Well, not everything, but I'm okay with that now too. It took hearing it from her to know how sorry and flawed he is, and that's why I loved him. He would've done the same for me, and that's why I helped him, both of them actually. I hope they work out. I really, honestly do. "I know this much is true.."

I'm mostly recovered! Take that, stupid kidney stone! But alas, I have perhaps an even more stressful week ahead of me: trying to get caught up on finals reviews and make up 5-10 days of attendance school during the last Hoover Dam week of school. If my kidneys didn't kill me, I might be able to survive this.

Anticipation

Fancy that. The day of the worst sectional turned out to be the day of the actually not too bad mutual. At least I got to listen to "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard."

We heard all we have of the show music so far, and I am so terribly excited to learn how to conduct it.

I got 100% on the English core test, which means it now counts for half of this term's grade! Guess that means I don't have to stress too much as I'm writing two papers on my free (yes, free, hallelujah) Saturday.

Which is Cinco de Mayo, and Gena's birthday and Abby's birthday and Samantha's birthday and the nerdfightastic Hanko de Mayo.

Tomorrow's May 4th. Though previously known as The Day I Told Micaiah I Liked Him (it's been two years), it is now much more importantly the day I wear my Jedi Academy shirt and my uncle's Star Wars pajama pants and my R2-D2 button and perhaps my heart shaped button with R2-D2 and C-3PO and an attempt at super teeny tiny Princess Leia buns (which were inspired by the hairstyles of old-timey Mexican women.)

Fancy that^^

Presidential Baby Names

Some people name all their children after family members or people in the Bible or all with the same first letter. I, however, propose a different sort of theme...

The Presidents.

I have found eighteen presidents whose last names could work as a suitable first name, with two extra iffy ones that I don't really like at all (Garfield and Taft). These names range from Nixon (my cousin's name) to Harrison (a previous favorite of mine) to Tyler and Lincoln and Grant. There are even six names that could work for girls: Madison, Taylor, McKinley, Kennedy, and Reagan.

What a way to be both clever and patriotic! You could choose your favorite names and just pay homage to the Presidency over the years or take it a step further and name them after your favorite presidents. How exponentially cooler would it be to have your child be named after a ident and then to become one?!

(All mine and my future husband's previously picked names might have to become middle names. You have no idea how much I am enjoying just thinking of the possibilities.)