Wednesday June 7, 2000
I am feeling very homicidal today, and other such mispellings.
This diary page sucks. I'm thinking of packing it in and starting anew with a different format. The white hurts my eyes... and it's been done oh-so-often. *gag*
Sometimes I think I go out of my way to try and be psychotic. heh. :-P Boredom does such strange things to a girl. Espeically one like me who has such great capacities for being morbid. And it probably (I've never been able to spell that word) doesn't help that I've been visiting all these hip, cynical girlie pages. Or is it gurly... or grrly... ugh!
Outside on the street there is a line of cars coming toward my house...now past it. gone now. They were driving slowly. Like you see people who don't live in your neighborhood do when they want to look at houses. Good for them. Only, it's way obvious with one car. With five it's sorta creepy.
I miss janey...and I lost the link to her webpage. figures.
Monday June 5, 2000
I'm thinking of moving my website again. I have so much trouble sitting still. I always end up feeling...trapped. Like I'm stuck under glass in an odd collection. A moth mistaken for a butterfly. It's just not working. Sometimes I start up new webpages on the spur of the moment... but the exertion of keeping up two webpages leaves me emotionally drained. Always worried about what you can or cannot say where and why. Always looking over your shoulder. Monitering your catch phrases so that whoever that may or maynot be reading it will not think it's you. God- I have more than twenty different e-mail addresses... more webpages than I can remember. Under different names. Different people. And I always end up where I started. At Becca. Always with Becca. Frankly, I don't like the girl.
Every day I grow wearier(sp?) of people telling me things. Their voices just sort of grow into a dull drone and I stop listening after awhile. I'm good at looking attentive when I want to be. If I want to be. The quickest way a person can get me angry...to dislike them for a short period of time (longer if you work at it) is to flatter me. Easiest way in the world to get me to write you off. *smirk* And that, my friend, is the point blank truth. This entry is not about candy-coating the facts. I'm to tired to bother with that now.
I can feel it coming. The move. Dissipearing for awhile. Locking myself away in my room with The Cure blaring on my stereo as my mother screens my calls. "No, Becca's not in right now." ugh. I loathe(sp?) being social. And creativity...fah! I feel cheated. I have no one for the object of my angst. affection. whatever. Mooning over someone just isn't the same if they know it. Verbalizing totally defeats the purpose of being starstruck. *shrug* Figures. Not that I like TOOMA any less. I just can't write poems about it any longer. I'm empty.
Maybe I'll revamp somethings around here... this blinding white crap just isn't cutting it anymore.
Sunday June 4, 2000
Last night I went to an auction with my mother that benifited a little boy who was shot in the head during a road rage incident. I bought (or rather my mother bought for me) a sword! A real sword! But it is a reproduction, still it is easily worth $200. We bought it for $45 and the promise that I would pay $25 of that and my mother $20. It is now, presently, hanging in my room. How cool is that?! I'm happy about it. I walked in the house last night with it in my hand and my brother's eyebrows shot up. He asked me if that was a real sword and then told me that I was really strange. I laughed. My father admired it and said "That's real cute, Becca. Real cute. Yah did good." And he hung it up for me this morning. I thought he would freak because it was a sword and all. I'm glad he didn't though. Also there were news crews from channel 5, Channel 11, and CBS there. Oh.. and also Channel 2. For the most part I thought that the tv people were really nice. The Channel 5 and 11 guys were the best though. It was funny watching them bid against each other.
More nightmares last night. ugh. This one was really disturbing and I woke up several times, unable to shake it. I was in the school (meaning my high school) and it was closed. There were no classes going on but there were people there. And for some reason I made it down to the gym and went into one of the P.E. teacher's offices. Only goodness knows why. I seemed to think at the time that I was attempting to do something for someone (my APUSH teacher, I think). And there were these guys who sang there... like were memebers of some band, though I have no idea who they were. One had a crush on me...go fig. Anyway, Shaun was in the office and he sort of frowned at me. I smiled and said 'hi'. Then all of a sudden, out of the blue he approached me and glared at me. "How could you ever think that I could like anyone like you?" He growled in a low voice, and then pushed past me. Leaving me shocked. from there things went to really bad and I woke up in a sweat. There were a lot of other things that happened in this dream but I can only remember bits and pieces and colors... just hints of what they were.
When I fell back to sleep I dreamed I was in this ritzy neighborhood looking for a job. I stumbled upon this old mansion that was some sort of office building and told the people who answered the door that I was there in responce to the ad. They let me in to look around. I'm not sure what I was doing there, but Russel Fair worked there. And, after several embarrassing mishaps I woke up.
The next thing I know I'm in the gym again. This time all the students are lined up on the gym floor according to class. One line on the right side and one on the left. I am at the front of the right line. The graduated seniors on looking down on us from the top of the indoor track above us. I have no idea why we're here... but one of the seniors...Kat...explains that we're supposed to prove ourselves by proving something to someone in the other line. I was afraid and it was really surreal.
Saturday June 3, 2000
Today some people could have taken the SAT. I opted not to until a later day. Angst Angst Angst.
Yesterday I weeded our flowerbed so that it looks a lot better than it has looked in a great while. Now, if only I can keep it that way. My mother was surprised. I didn't mind doing it. Things like that aren't bad to do as long as they are my idea and I can do them when I want to... not forced into it by someone else.
so bored. nothing to do online. nothing at all. no interesting chat rooms or yahoo clubs. no one signing gb. no e-mails. *sigh* Looks like I'll have to entertain myself by sending more death threats to my friends. Oh well. heh.
Monday May 29, 2000
My mother asked me if I wanted to go to this model call and give these people at Travis salon free range over my appearence. Ha! I've seen some of the things they do to people up there. Goodness only knows how I'd come out looking. As fun as it may sound, I wouldn't want anything that I couldn't change done to me.
Sunday May 28, 2000
Happy Birthday Amy! Loves yah much!
Today I went to Amy's birthday party and I had a lovely time. We went swimming and I hung out with all these really cool people that I've always wanted to hang out with... Like this girl named Emily and this girl named Jenna. Very cool. Also. I met a lot of new people that were pretty cool. I was shy though. At first. And then Jenna brought out this really old home movie they made like two years ago. Strangly enough Shaun Krisher was on a lot of the last 15min. It was funny to see what he looks like in a black and pink dress with a fruit hat thing. *smile* I'm utterly envious (psst... not of the fruit hat) of them because I will never know him as a friend. But- let's not think of that now. Not when I am in a somewhat happy mood.
btw... house is lookin' much better today. Yard better still. I don't feel all embarrassed and stuff about it now. See what a lot of whining can do? *grin*
Saturday May 27, 2000
I am burning up. My parents insist on keeping all the blinds and windows and doors closed today and they have drug out lots of fans. I get yelled at everytime I try to open a window or door. It's cooler outside than inside and all they are succeeding in doing is making the house musty. And muggy. fah. Worse yet is that I am utterly embarrassed by the condition of our house and yard. I don't want anyone coming over because it looks so wretched. That is partly my fault. Partly my family's. I can weed the flower bed. I can clean up inside... but I can't mow the grass. I don't know how the mower works. My father has never let me use it before. So the grass grows knee high. Well... not that high yet. But I have no doubt it will get there soon.
My mother -as disgusted by our house as I am- has yelled and screamed at us to clean up until she has completely given up on us. I do not blame her. I just hope we have no guests over during the summer. at all.
Presently I am more angry than I can express to you. I am angry and frustrated and depressed and I do not want to talk about it. I do not want to socialize. I just want to sit here at the computer or locked away in my house. The last thing I want is to see anyone else who is a member of my species.... save one. But what are the odds of me ever seeing Shaun again? Of me ever talking to him again? And while I do not regret that I have told him, in some fashion, how I feel about him... I am left adrift with the feeling I have accomplished nothing.
...later...
I feel much better now. After much whining and the like I convinced my father to mow the law and I picked up the house a bit so it looks marginally better. But I'm still bored out of my mind. I'm in a mood to watch "Heathers". Either that or "Mermaids". Or some Winona Ryder movie.... I looked up to her so much as a kid. I wonder why.
...later still...
How is it that so many people are able to live through this fire- this pain of rejection? Even a polite one, as I was lucky enough to get, is enough to make me struggle for each breath. Make the mere act of rising out of bed each morning a chore. For it seems that always when you give your heart to someone, they forget to give it back after they reject you. At least when they return your affections you have their heart to function on.... Were it only that I had some sense of resoltion... that he had told me he hated me. something. Hatrid I know all to well. I can deal with it. Know how to respond to it. But this nothingness? My fault, you know. I didn't for a moment ask him how he felt. I simply proclaimed that I admired him (a very vauge statement, but from me is all the world). Never did I once ask how he felt. Aye me... Still I don't regret it. To do over again I wouldn't do it different. I don't think. Anyhow- I don't think I could deal with him telling me he cared nothing for me. God. I sound so vain.
Wednesday May 24, 2000
I told him. I told TOOMA that I admired him and I hold him why... but I'm getting ahead of myself. I walked into Ms. Stwert's room today after school with the intention of giving TOOMA the letter that I had written for him (after some forceful prodding from my friend Tammy, to be sure). I entered the room, my heart racing and scared to death. God, I had to get this over with before I lost my nerve. I called out to him and asked if I could speak with him. To which he responded with a smile, "Yeah Becca, sure. What's up?" As he looked at me from over his shoulder as he stood on a table. hanging up a poster upside down. This is where things get fuzzy and mixed up. I think I apologized for my friends approaching him and whatever they may have said to him. He glanced down at me and said "They haven't told me anything..." But I went on. "I'm sure they've told you something to the effect that I like you. And... I do. I admire you very much because you are extroverted and loud and creative..." That's where I stopped to take a breath and he stopped what he was doing to look at me. His eyes sort of wide. Impossibly blue. He looked sort of stunned. I think perhaps because of the fact that I had gotten up the nerve to approach him. This, for me, was a first.
"Thank you." He said softly and I pushed on once again, fearing the loss of my nerve. I had so much to say but my mind was going blank. "I wanted to tell you because in all likelihood I may never see you again." He agreed. It was a possibilty. And we talked for awhile. Not long. But long enough to lift the burden from my shoulders. I thanked him for not laughing in my face and he smiled slightly and said "I would never do that. In fact, you will find few people who actually do." I smiled. flustered. And then I remembered the letter...which I had been figeting with in my hands the whole time.... There was no way I could walk out of that room with that letter. Even if all he did was tear it up and throw it away. The mere act of giving it to him would have been Cathartic(sp?). "I know it's really childish," I began...but he stoped me with another smile as he dropped the poster for the umteenth time. "Childish is the best way to be." I smiled. "But I wrote this to you... because I'm clumsy with words." He shook his head. "No you're not. I've seen your locker. You're very eloquent(sp?) with words." I know my face was crimson as I thanked him humbly and told him that the difference was that those were written. Verbally I always trip over myself... And I gave him the letter. Telling him that it was okay if he tore it up or threw it away. I would understand. I just needed to give it to him. He was facing me fully now as he put the letter in his pocket. "I would never do that." He said in his soft tone. I think from there my breathing was much easier. I think I smiled then. I can't be sure though.
Then he hopped down from the table and stood in front of me. He told me that everyone has some creativity in them but they were afraid to do anything. That the reason he was so extroverted was because he realized that few people actually did laugh at you. He told me not to be afraid of being extroverted. And I was speechless. How could it be that he was not recoiling from me as David Savicki had done? As Justin Schust had done? How was this? And when it came that I had to go I turned to him and smiled my warmest. Happy that this burden was lifted from my heart. No regrets. "I hope I see you again..." and as I walked out he said, "Me too."
No. I'm not stupid. I realize most of it was more than likly him being simply polite. But what does it matter? I told him how I felt and I survived. What a wonder.
Tuesday May 23, 2000
My God, I can't breathe. Does anyone else feel this? This madness? My veins are crawling under my flesh and I can feel my blood on fire as it pounds in my head... Why can't he get out of my head? Regrets regrets regrets! Far more than I should have... Aye me. I am starving for conversation. No. communication. There is a difference. Conversation is to bulky and....wrong. Oh so wrong for what I want to say. Communication is more fluent and graceful. Less...halting. *sigh* Tammy says that I should be proud of myself that I have talked to him... But I haven't really. I haven't approached TOOMA and really talked to him. I want to know what he thinks holds the stars in the sky and what the earth smells like to him after it rains. I don't care about the stupid decades disks. About school... I've come to hate small talk. Loathe it, in fact. God. This can't be healthy.