Lost

Sometimes, I can't figure out if I'm happy or sad.

Like, I can't decide whether I'm an optimist who laughs at all the beautiful little funny things in the world or a depressive whose overwhelming self-hatred only pales in comparison to her all-encompassing apathy.

I really can't decide.

(and why did i tell my mom that school was good even though i felt stupid or emotional or in pain the entire day?)

I just feel so alone on this planet of seven billion people. I also feel like I have no right to complain because there are impoverished African children and "starving Ukrainians" and girls here in Cedar Hills or Pleasant Grove or wherever the crap I live that are actually sad and depressed and struggling.

But then, after saying that he couldn't understand how it felt to feel so lonely and weird and ugly and unloved and wistful and melacholic and tired and sad, he looked me straight in the eyes and said:

"I understand everything you just said."
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I can't figure out whether I'm happy or sad.

The Unholiday

I feel like time has all of a sudden sped up and left me totally unprepared.

Caitlin, Logan, and Cam were all taken from me for almost a week. I was left to fend for myself, and when I was so happy I could burst, I couldn't tell them about it, and as I cried my heart out, none of them were there to hug me and make me laugh my troubles away. To make matters worse, I realized that this will be my life in a few short months. Cam will be off in Africa or the like, Logan will be up north, my sister wife will be living a life of her own and apart from me. My time with my drum majors is so limited and all the more precious; I can't handle the inevitable prospect of life without them. It's the beginning of the end.

I got called in to work two hours earlier than originally planned, forcing me to blow off plans with my cousin, yet again. I barely had time to shower after a long and hard practice before hustling over to the office. I had no holiday, and it was like life didn't matter because my life was work and nothing else. The whole time I did paper work etc, I was seized with this fear of becoming a stagnant working adult, always busy but never progressing or moving at all. (This is not a new thought as it sums up my ever-constant idea of my guard abilities.)

I just feel so old; it's as if my priorities all shifted Inge wrong direction. Getting teeth pulled takes precedence over playing at my band concert. Going to Sundance is more important than the fear of not graduating. I just don't care about anything.

Like, at all.

The Perks of Being an Honorary Saxophone

I was sure that I was having one of the worst nights in recorded history. I'd been dragged from my sickbed to go run pep band on my own. I couldn't find an adult or a schedule or a roll. I didn't know when to be where or what songs we'd already played three times. I was running in the cold, looking for a bus to hold six of my kids, tears of sickness streaming from one eye only. People were very kind and helpful, but I was tired and sick and stressed and just done with life.

Then the saxophones invited me to go to Macey's with them to get ice cream and Mexican soda. For some strange reason, I agreed to go, ignoring the awful mood I was in and the looming early morning guard practice. I felt a little bit stupid for letting them talk me into being the odd one out on such a night as this.

Once I got there, I was amazed. The section just instantly welcomed me in, explaining their tradition, telling stories, laughing at my jokes and asking me questions. Drew paid for my ice cream, despite my the awkward slips of my tongue amidst our reminiscing of Financial Lit. Sarah and I shared our girl cup and rolled our eyes at the boys. Tony snorted when he laughed. Ethan gave the most hilarious disclaimers, and Curtin nearly made me vomit. There were dirty jokes and somber moments of regret and this sense of happiness everywhere.

It was astounding how comfortable I felt. They said I was the very first drum major to come with them, but that didn't stop anything. They told a few less dirty jokes, but we all just connected. I felt like I could tell them about my brother's Tina stories and my adventures at DMA and the woes of being a senior in all the sophomore classes. It was so easy; they cared about me and everything that entails, without question. They were loving and joyful and so full of life, I forgot that it was a school night and that I had ever been sick. I could let go and feel them just enjoy my company. They didn't need to test me out or judge my performance; they just asked that I taste the not-that-horrible soda and that I remember, not the practice and classes and work I have tomorrow, but the beautiful night we shared loitering at that table.


By the time I got home, I felt I was the healthiest person on earth.

Life Savers

I have been so busy the past day and a half, and I just love being able to visit people, see new movies, sing my heart out, and eat too much fattening food. Is this how most teenagers live their lives?

I'm not used to hanging out with friends. We always lived too far away or my mom was sick or the house was too messy. Also, I just wasn't very fun to hang out with. My idea of a party was watching Beatles movies and braiding others' hair. People just didn't ask me over very often.

But in the past few months, I've been a freaking social butterfly (comparatively). My friends have reached out and invited me out in public, which is a bit of scary prospect. I've gone on a few dates. I've been sleeping all day and staying up all night. It is such a liberating feeling to have a schedule and prior commitments and to be all dressed up with somewhere to go for once. I am afraid of losing all this when I graduate as most of my friends will still be in high school, and I'll have a new life to build.

I guess I just have to be grateful for now. I'd just like to thank my drum majors for trying their best to help me prepare for the basketball game. I'd like to thank Caitlin and Makani for letting me eat ice cream and scream at the tv with them. I'd like to thank Sam for asking me to help with her science fair project and then to see Pitch Perfect with Allison and Maddie. I'd really like to thank Tony for putting together the best Yellowcard party and for him and Janelle singing with me. Y'all are all my best friends, and I couldn't have asked for a better senior year.

I could wish that I'd been here longer to love y'all, but I believe that everything leads up to now. Things happened the way they did so that this moment could be a perfect goodbye to my childhood and high school career. Y'all make me better, and y'all are the reason I am happy when everything else threatens to swallow me in sadness.

I really can't thank you enough.

Peace Out

Today, I developed the Comfort to Scandalability Theorem which basically states that: "In many situations, how scandalous your actions may be or appear to be and how comfortable you are performing said actions have a direct positive correlation."

I also developed the word "Scandalability." Please refrain from using it in public as it is not actually a real word.

This concept is very easily demonstrated. It's more comfortable to wear sweats than jeans, but it is often frowned upon in our cosmopolitan world. That being said, wearing soffes is far more comfortable than wearing sweats, but I'm nearly positive a mob would be out for my blood if I ever just showed up to school in a pair. With my close friends, I feel safe enough to make seductive faces and use four syllable words and cry like someone on Lortab. All of these actions, however, are deemed weird and awkward and annoying to those who are mere acquaintances. Simply put, when you let your defenses drop, people are not likely to accept what they see.

That wasn't simply put^^

There is an inverse that says when someone does something you're uncomfortable with, their Scandalability increases in your eyes. I think facial piercings are undesirable, awkward, and unattractive. I would never get one, ad when I see someone with a lip or a nose ring etc., I come up with crude stereotypes and don't know how to react to that person. Something they were very comfortable with increased the negative opinions in others' eyes.

Let it be noted that this theorem is not perfect. Disregarding individual circumstances and personalities, the situation has an affect on our comfort and such. I've honestly been tempted to go to the store braless. I would feel so much better making a quick run without the physical and, arguably, emotional discomfort that comes from wearing a bra, and a baggy sweatshirt will adequately protect me from strangers passing by. However, all hell would break loose if I ran into someone I know. Technically, the Scandalability has not changed, but my comfort level has gone from one extreme to the other in an instant.

Basically, I think I'm clever sometimes. I should really just sleep instead.

A Wild Religious Post Has Appeared!

I had a wonderful lesson today.

Maybe because it was only fifteen minutes long.

I always thought that the Holy Ghost was kinda third wheelin' it up there in the Godhead. Like, I knew he was important and necessary and such, but it was like "God and Jesus are the best and oh yeah Holy Ghost descended like a dove whoopee moving on."

But today, I learned that he made one of the ultimate sacrifices. He gave up his ability to have a body and live in this beautiful world so that we could have someone to help and comfort us in this frightening world.

In my head, I see Christ and Lucifer duking it out over the Plan and everyone's focused on them except this one gallant young man who walks up to the Father and says, "I am not strong enough or worthy to save the world, but I'd like to help, if I possibly could." And then he whispers a suggestion into God's ear, who looks a little shocked, and asks if he realizes what that means. The most precious spirit holds his head high and says yes, puffing his chest out and clenching his fists in fear, but all the more determined. God just nods and hugs him. The Spirit and the Father then watched Jesus win the War in Heaven, and the one Spirit watched everyone else get a body, a gift treasured above all, with a smile on his face. Sure, he had given it up, but to Him, and to all of us, it was worth it.

I am not C.S. Lewis. I did not know that was gonna come out^^

But seriously, what an amazing child of God.

Sickly Sweet

Some days are just bad. You feel sick, unable to stand up or smile without an inward grimace or a squeak of pain. You are swamped with meaningless homework that drives you crazy and has a disproportionate effect on your life. You are scared of slowly but surely losing friends and sliding on ice as you drive a stupidly large suburban and what people think of you and your tights and your absurd short shorts.

But sometimes, those horrible days are infused with happiness. Your best friend burns you a bunch of CDs like the wonderful #Cardy she is. You receive many thanks from the people who matter (though you can't help feeling a bit bad for all the albeit happy tears they shed.) you lay motionless listening to 80s hip hop and watching Arrested Development with your family and then retreating to listen to the aforementioned CDs to the point that you almost forget that your nauseous cuz you're laughing and smiling and thinking of the good of the day. The bad starts to blend and mush into irrelevancy, and the good makes itself so manifest, printing its bright images of cups of milk and burgundy blazers and his smile on the back of your eyelids, like a talisman, protecting you from the evil spirits that wish to make you hurt.

These are the very best of the bad days, and I am ever so slightly grateful for their place in my life. I leave you to let Yellowcard and sweet dreams to serenade my sick self off to sleep.