May 16, 2010
5.01 PM
Kind of in my happy place right now. I just figured out two major problems in my life (that I shall or shant mention later) and my handy dandy bright green umbrella (it’s a metaphorical one. My mom lost the real thing [Yes. She lost my umbrella. She made me give to her in a place {I don’t remember} so I wouldn’t lose it and she leaves it in the bathroom] and it was a good umbrella, one of my favorites. Now I can never keep another one in my house without losing it during dry weather and remembering that I lost it in wet) to keep the more problems that are going to come crashing (pouring. Whichever sounds best) down on me.
The internet’s down again. It’s just something on our end though, I think. Earlier this month, the 8th I think, our power went down while I was doing my homework. I would have never been more grateful for laptops but I couldn’t finish the assignment because part of it was online.
While I was cursing ComEd to the heavens, hells, and back, my mom simply pulled out Friday, an unfortunately hilarious movie featuring Chris Tucker (Rock. Whichever one fits. I’m getting my funny black guys confused) and Ice Cube and a dead line that they couldn’t meet. It has 2 sequels, Next Friday and The Friday After Next, and a spin-off, Last Sunday.
I was thinking about writing in here that day, but I really didn’t want to. I had battery power to conserve of course. So I just ignored the fact that if you walked out the front door of my house and 5 yards to the right (the unit measure, not literally yard. If that was the case I would have said 3 yards. But I didn’t) that entire street would have power.
I really think ComEd hates my block because we’re the only ones that lose power. Everyone else around us don’t. It’s infuriating sometimes. When I was little, I used to sit with my mom in the living room with a lit candle [I just edited this. I have to stop. But I can’t], taffy apples, and a children’s version of the bible.
I never really did go to church but it became a habit, a tradition. The lights would go out; mom would go get the cord phone and the candle, I the book and taffy apples. We would sit on the couch. She would do something, I would read and we would take turns (carefully) pouring the melted wax into the plastic casing that used to hold a peanut and caramel covered granny smith apple. When the wax cooled, it had a globe-ish shape, like it used the plastic as a mold. I always told my mom that maybe we should reuse the wax and make another candle. She would always say that yeah, maybe we should.
I went to the spring dance show recently. I stayed afterschool all day with Amy and crew. It was really fun. I was at school for over 12 hours (approximately for 14 hours) and I was exhausted. Still, it was totally worth it. I ate at Sear’s (Angel’s) with Amy and Zita. The French toast was mouthwatering and the pancakes burnt my mouth.
We finished the National Spanish Exam this month (or was it last month? Maybe we just got the results back this time. I can’t remember) and we got our results back. I was giddy that I did best in the category that everyone else failed: proficiency. My achievement level left little to be desired. So basically, I haven’t achieved much but I’m pretty proficient. For some strange reason, that kind of makes me happy.
I got bronze level for the test. Which means my teacher, Senor H (pronounced AH*che), gave me 3 extra credit points. Yays.
Speaking of Spanish, I got a 0 on my reading log because my mom was rushing me out the door and I left it on the printer. Because of that, I can’t go to Family Night on Friday, the last family night for me ever and the one where we get to see the new ackies.
To add insult to injury, if I miss more assignments, I’m going to miss the following (they’re in order of loss): A) 8th Grade Luncheon (I’m going to have to pay them back with my allowance), B) Finals Group Study (if they want me to do worse then it’s their lost), C) 8th Grade Class Trip (going to have to pay them back for this one too), D) Victoria’s Graduation/Birthday Party, and finally E) Purdue Summer Camp.
That notice kind of opened my eyes for me. I always lived for my parents. It was always that I had to (or couldn’t) do something because my parents would get mad if I didn’t (or did). But this isn’t their life. As they so often-ly remind me, this is my life. They already went through high school. If that’s so, then they should butt out.
I’m done living in fear of consequence. When you live like how I was living, you miss out on life. There have been so many things that have gone by because of that.
So my parents can throw the biggest boulders they can carry at me. I don’t care. They can take away everything until I’m left with the bare bones of my former life. I’ll always have a back-up plan (I still haven’t seen that movie or Kick-Ass. Mental note to self: must watch online!). Sleep is always the answer. It’s not like I’ve been getting a lot of it. I got 3 hours of sleep last night, from 6 am to 9 am.
Don’t ask, won’t tell. That’s my motto.
Speaking of punishments, my parents are killing me right now over my Great Expectations book for Survey Lit. I haven’t been able to find it for the last 3 days but apparently if I don’t find it by tomorrow I have to buy another one. I don’t think they understand that I’ve been doing it in class, even if I tell them. They think that I’m not doing my work. They don’t listen.
My dad keeps saying I only have 2 weeks of school left. That’s a lie. There are 4. 4 weeks to find the book and they want me to waste my money and buy another one right now. They made me do that twice so far and I lost money because of it.
The first time was when I couldn’t find my grammar book, my mom didn’t give me time to look for it, and I bought another one from my teacher. When I got home, my mom made me write my name in it, in ink. The next day, I went to school and someone gave it back to me. They were absent the day before and couldn’t give it to me. I lost 8 dollars.
The next time it happened, it was with a gym shirt. Mylynda borrowed mine. She lost it (she said it was behind a locker or something). She gave me money to buy another one. She said she’ll have it the next day. I told my mom, she made me buy another shirt, write my name on it in Sharpie and then, when Mylynda had my shirt (the next day!), she asked for her money back, I had to dig into my savings because of my mom.
She’s getting on my nerves again. We haven’t talked since Tuesday. I’m not making an extra effort to either. Who would want to break the silence with someone like her? She’s rude, inconsiderate, disgusting, and generally a pain for me to be even in the same room as. She doesn’t care about my feelings, why should I care about hers? I almost punched a wall because of her. If I told her, she wouldn’t care. It’s useless if I’m going to a therapist if she herself isn’t even going to help? It’s not like I need help. She’s just another unsolved problem that I don’t even want to solve.
Speaking of problems, I just solved 2(3) major problems in my life. The first is why I have a problem with my mom. To answer that, I must answer another problem. That problem is what’s wrong with me.
Now I don’t have a complete answer. That’s impossible. It’s just that I have an idea. I’m not a nice person, something I keep reminding Lulu. I am mean, a bully, sarcastic, lazy, selective OCD, and more. But something I realized is that I’m still polite in a world where chivalry is dead. I still say “please” and “thank you”. I open doors for others, even guys (which my parents say should be the other way around). I still fix papers for people and run errands for teachers. I’m well-mannered at the table and more. That’s why I can’t outright hate someone. I’m too polite for that. It kind of makes me feel better knowing why I’m like that.
Back to the point, my mom doesn’t have manners. Or at least around me she doesn’t. That’s why other people find her nice: she straightens up in front of others. I know people should have the right to be themselves with family but I can’t stand her. She chews with her mouth open, yells into her Bluetooth (which is right by her mouth) when she’s having a regular conversation and I’m trying to sleep in the car, she’s inconsiderate (already mentioned), and she’s horribly narrow-minded.
That’s the complete opposite of me. I put others before myself whenever possible. She doesn’t. We’re too different to like each other. Is that really my fault?
I’m not changing for her. My parents always told me I was too nice and let people walk all over me. I don’t think so. They always said that I’m going to let someone take advantage of me. I highly doubt that. When I finally stick up for myself to them, they don’t like it. They can’t pick and choose. I’m not Burger King. They can’t have me their way. They’re just going to learn how to pick up the cards and just deal.
Moving on, the other problem I solved is why I’m like this in a completely different way this time though. I’m always happier in Orland Park or in Indiana than when I’m in the city at home. I always feel energize after watching a movie in a bright place. I figure that it’s because it’s a different environment.
I’m not well suited for my gloomy neighborhood or my house that doesn’t have many windows. I have needs, like Rachel on Glee but with the tiny little fact that one of them isn’t applause. I need sunlight, blue skies. Not grey clouds and dark green trees. I need other people who are alive, not just barely living.
That’s why I’m always happy downtown. There are people there, things happening. There’s life there. Things I don’t have now. I just need to leave.
But I can’t leave my city. I love downtown and the lakefront so much. I have to live down there or somewhere close because, whether I like it or not, I’m a city girl. And what’s a city girl without her city?
I’m problem free now. So why do I have to keep going to my therapist? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fixing. How can I complain about my mom when she’s in there, waiting for me to? I’m just too polite for that, unlike her. She goes behind my back and tells the therapist something without asking me and then confronts me in front of her and tells, no warns, me asking if it was okay. What if it wasn’t? What now then?
And she has the audacity to go behind my back AGAIN and give her information on my donor dad, not telling me of course, and saying that I didn’t want the information. I never said that! She’s always lying on me!
But of course I can’t say anything because I’ll get smacked if I call my parent a liar. What else do you call someone who lies? Not a truth teller, of course. Should I call her a cheat, a con artist, a deceiver, a deluder, a dissimulator, an equivocator, a fabler, a fabricator, a fabulist, a false witness, a falsifier, a fibber, a maligner, a misleader, a perjurer, a phony, a prevaricator, a promoter, a storyteller, or a trickster?
But whatever. I’ve just accepted that my parents are always going to be annoying. Today we went to the movies and I didn’t want to see
the movie we were going to. I told them that on Friday. There was no other movie I wanted to see that started near the same time. I was just stuck. So they wasted their money on me.
I mean I understand why they didn’t want to leave me at home. The break-ins are still going on and stuffs. But I don’t want them to say that I waste money or anything. I’m just kind of considerate. I like having my meal be the lowest costing one on the bill. It makes me feel better. I don’t pay for majority of things so if they paid less for me, then I’m fine.
School’s weird right now. I can’t stay organize. I blame the fact that I don’t have a room. The basement’s the family room so I can’t have my stuff there. I have nowhere and therefore (I love that word), my stuff is everywhere. We still haven’t finished the hockey playoffs in gym. I really want to beat Mitchell! Right now we’re playing ultimate Frisbee. Yoga was fun. I felt so calm. I needed that to deal with my mom.
Korey’s getting a bit creepy. It’s probably just me. I want to tell him that I just like him as a friend but I don’t want to be mean. It’s just so awkward.
Luis would be laughing his head off if I told him that. But I would just kill him right back. He dated America for 3 weeks and she broke up with him because she likes LaJacovie. It was a major fail on Lu’s part. On top of that, he’s on rebound. He’s dating Megan (which is the same name as one of his ex-girlfriends. I find that weird) who sounds like a nice girl and who I’m not allowed to meet under any given circumstances.
Alex (Steffeck. There’s only one way Mitchell will be in here and that’s in a rant) has been really awesome lately. She’s a fabulous artist and because we sit next to each other in math so much, we’re okay friends. It’s kind of weird but still cool.
Camp at Purdue’s going to be fun. Sheila’s going. Sheila’s been a big influence on me right now. She’s keeping me on a short leash about writing. I have a short story to submit at the end of the month. I’m thinking about scrapping my current one and writing 3 one-shot-mini-song-fic-short-stories based on “Human”, “Vida la Vida”, and “It Ends Tonight”. I’m uber excited about the latter two. The VLV one will remind me of The Girl Who Owned a City and IET will be kind of a confrontation break up. Both of which are fun to write. Well, at least for me.
Speaking of those 3 songs, I’m apparently an unattached part of their (they being Amy, Sheila, Dorothy, and Jiayin) band. Everyone else plays an instrument except me. But my voice is my greatest instrument. I love to sing and music’s my passion so I’m happy being there. I can’t stay afterschool due to my family feud (I loved that show) but I work during lunch and whenever I can. I just kind of like being in the band. It’s nice feeling like you belong.
Right now, music’s insane. I love majority of the songs on the radio. I’m listing to 103.5 24/7. I so want to go to the station’s Fantabuloso concert (which will have a lot of my favorite people) but there’s no more tickets left. I’ll just have to wait for videos on YouTube then. I started to download music onto my USB drive (which I lost and just recently found) so I can listen to music at school without my MP3 player. Score one for the short girl in the back!
I just ordered 2 books online. I would have bought them in person but they would have been 10 dollars more each. Not worth it. So I’m just going to wait 3 to 8 business days for my books. I ordered Runaway by Meg Cabot (love her! I wanted to own every single book by her that I’ve read) and Fang by James Patterson (I couldn’t resist! James Patterson seems to have a different book coming out each month).
Runaway is the final book in the Airhead trilogy. Airhead is basically about a girl who is very brainy who gets into an accident at the same time as an idol and while the girl’s body is completely useless but her brain’s perfect, the idol’s is the exact opposite. So scientist put the girl’s brain into the idol’s body. Hilarity and problems ensue.
Fang is the continuation of the Maximum Ride series, another fan favorite of mine. I cannot describe this one with justice (I didn’t do so well with the other one either) so I just have 2 words: half-bird kids.
I blame things a lot. I think we all do. Just some of do it on the inside. I do too many things on the inside anyway. I have more self-control than people even can imagine. It’s ridiculously insane how much I have.
People are so weird. I mean, we play these violent games and we know it’s only a game. Currently, in the Facebook game Mafia Wars, I have over 700 million dollars on me and about 5 billion in the bank. Money on there is worth nothing but the dedication of coming back every day. It’s too hard to write in this every day. Just one a week should be fine. It’s easier for me to type when the text is small and so are the paragraphs. The magic’s gone once the page isn’t half sized anymore.
Every time someone calls me, “Syd”, I go into happy mode. Before Whitney Young, I never had a nickname. Everyone called me Sydney. Family called me by my middle name, Janelle. When I came to Whitney and people called me “Syd”, I just kind of melted. That’s probably why I make up nicknames for people a lot. Nicknames make me feel included.
Sometimes it’s nice to feel included. It’s nice to be one of the buds. That’s probably why I love being at the guys’ table in bio. It’s just being one of the guys. No pressure. Is that so much to ask for? Maybe it’s just a bit true. Maybe everyone wants no pressure and just to be one of the guys. Maybe everyone wants to be part of the band. Maybe everyone wants a pet name. Maybe I’m not just the only one.
Maybe…
3000 words and then some. That’s awesome. Much more than my other one. Be back in 1 week’s time (ish).
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