Kick Drum Heart


Vitality

Well, it’s done. Red lipstick and all, it’s all over.

And I had so much fun.

It might be said that I was a “bad date.” Well, to be honest, there was a legitimate reason I capitalized “Strictly As Friends” when I agreed to go with him. Because I only want to be friends.

The ‘tude he had going all of last night wasn’t going to ruin my evening, no sir. If he’s going to mope around, should I coddle him or have a blast on my own? That was the question.

The answer is: um, a blast, duh. And he can join in– As My Friend– if or when he wants to.

He didn’t really, and I almost feel bad if he didn’t have a great time. But what the heck, just because he can’t be himself for one night, I should be a funsucker of myself to baby him? No, thanks.

I danced the entire damn night away, and then sucked at Cyber-Sport and Lasertron respectively (but competitively).

Then I snuck off the bus (they weren’t keeping track, anyway) and into Kenny’s car. He knew I was sneaking, though, so I got shotgun. Brendan, Marya, Kenny and I went to McDonald’s and had some great discussions; then we jammed our way to Dave’s where we pretended to play Monopoly and watched “August Rush.” I stole a few five hundred dollar bills from the bank when Kenny wasn’t looking, missed my turn a few times, and wasn’t altogether super-impressed by the movie. Dave was still being porky.

What did he expect? A magical night of romance and adoration? Excuse me, no. That’s why I specified “Strictly As Friends.”

Urgh. So aside from the mild frustration and acute craving for caffeine, it was a great time.

And I learned something, when I was sitting silent in the bus seat on the way to Lasertron. My date was mute and the night was backlit by city glow. I was bored, and my mind was quiet, so I started talking to God. About how peaceful everything was right then, and how thankful I was to be lucky enough to have a night with my friends, regardless of, whatever. That’s what made me decide to go with Kenny, Brendan, and Mar, although if and/or when my mother finds out I did that she won’t approve. She’ll probably be pissed. But I’m a big girl, and I trust Kenny driving more than I trust my own father. I had more fun with my friends than I had with my supposed “date,” who wanted more than I was able to give him.

My sister says “Why not?!” in an outraged tone of voice when I explain that I don’t want to date Dave or anything.

She doesn’t understand. I really value his friendship, when he’s normal. But hell no, I don’t like him romantically. I don’t like anyone like that. The closest one, maybe to that, is Kenny because I liked him so much last year and we can still flirt. But that comes nowhere near like liking.

Just because I like a guy’s family, and attitude, and upbringing, does not mean I have to like him. Just because my family is worried for me that I haven’t dated anyone, specifically a “nice boy” since Craig, doesn’t mean I have to like the first one that comes along.

I don’t have to date anyone, or like anybody. I don’t want to.

So now that I’ve made myself irritable, I’m going to go get some coffee and go downstairs. I’ll finish cleaning my room and begin a plan for the scrapbook I plan to make. I’ll be productive until, like, seven tonight and then go to bed. But I’ll remember the thoughts I shared with God and hopefully be able to share more. He knows how I feel about this stupid boy-family crap. He’ll be able to help me find a way around almost feeling like a dick and definitely feeling super pissy about it.

He also helped me understand that it’s important to feel vital, and alive, just as it’s important to grow and change and strike out on my own a little. Re: going with Kenny instead of riding the bus. Like, who cares? Not our chaperones. They all drove out separately, anyway. No one gave a damn.

So I will. I’ll be alive and love people and feel what I feel. The end for today.



The words
13 September 2009, 8:36 am
Filed under: Random Thoughts, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I can feel the words, hovering nervously at my fingertips. Mind humming in overdrive, heating and waiting for me to just let them out. Get out, words. I don’t want you anymore.

They’re a story. I can’t explain it, but they’re a story to be told, all of those words. All of those words pushing at me for an exit, screaming for me to release them into the world.

They’re mine, a slinking, selfish part of me whispers. They’re mine, and what if the world doesn’t like them? I can’t protect them then. They need to stay here.

You’re being a baby, my other half tells me. Scaredy-cat. Knock it off and grow some balls and write.

I’m going to have to, at some point, or so I hope. I’m trying to refuse the other alternative: ignoring them. What good will shutting them out do? I’ll just block off another part of myself that makes me who I am. No, thanks.

The words don’t want me to block them off, either. They won’t let me freeze them out. They’re itching, fizzing, reminding me that yes, they’re there, and they want out.
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Drifting

I wish I could do that right now. Just drift, float along the strains and percussive sweetness of Andy McKee’s fricken awesome song. But I can’t. Even though I feel stressed and out of it and tired, and like I’m just treading water until time passes, I can’t relax and let the tide sweep me away. I have to keep going, pushing myself and my muscles to move, to keep me from drowning.

I have sooo much shit to do. What’s new, right? But this time, it’s do or die. If I don’t bring my chem grade up, I am legitimately, for the first time in my life, going to fail a course. And I really want to get into Advanced Art. AND musical tryouts are coming up, and NYSSMA solofest is the weekend of the Hollywood Happening, and I am auditioning on level 6 All State solos for xylo and voice. And the kicker? I have an AP US History test this Wednesday, and hardly any time to study for it. Except right now. Ha ha. I have to go to a baseball game and take pictures shortly, also. Maybe I’ll beg off to stay home and study, but then mom would be confused and I’d have to explain the date and importance of that dumb AP test.

Oh, and did I mention boys? Always at the busiest times in my life I start to get exceptionally fond of them, and then I get even more strained. I think it’s the nice weather, everyone’s twitterpated. Ha, I love Bambi. :) But yeah. So, stress. Now I’m being compelled off of wordpress and toward my Advanced Art essay. Damn it, why can’t I just drift away?