Drifting
18 May 2009, 6:13 pm
Filed under:
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yearbookI 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?
And, I guess
26 January 2009, 11:13 pm
Filed under:
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wrongI suppose it was just a speculation of mine. You know, a thought. A random inconvenient fantastical idea, that floated in from nowhere. I wouldn’t sound so dramatic, but I’m practicing my writing for the stupid English Regents tomorrow.
But simply put, that means: I guess I just got my hopes up.
It wasn’t a big deal, realizing that, oh-hey, there goes a possibiolity of a fun time. Of course, nothing is really a big deal when it comes to me and guys. I don’t have big deals, or drama. I don’t get upset. It’s “whatever” and “it doesn’t matter” and “who will I take an interest in next?”
Right. Okay, so, who will it be.
I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t really want to dwell on my failure as a girl, my failure at attractiveness, at witty repartee. I don’t ever like to sit and nurse a wound that will heal easily and soon.
But I don’t want to fail to notice my own sad attempts at femininity. The long blonde hair really does nothing for me, nor do the blue eyes, obscenely long lashes, curvy frame or even smile. Maybe it’s the laugh that turns them off, maybe my cheerfulness is just too obnoxious to behold for any length of time. Maybe the flirting was just that.
Sure. I can deal with that. I won’t think any more on the fact that I’m completely undesirable, too outspoken for my own good, and when the time is right to comment, I refrain. I refuse to pause any longer over my inadequacies as a determined but unsuccessful interested party.
So what if my laugh is too loud, my comments too sharp? So what if I say the wrong thing once or twice, or I’m less appealing than she is?
If I’m too big, I’m too big.
If I’m too smart, I’m too smart.
If I’m only a focus of amusement and flirtation, then I’d do better to focus my own attentions elsewhere.
But this could have been my chance. I let myself believe that, hey, this could be the rebound I’ve been searching for. The connection that pulled me out of ex-infested waters and into a lifeboat built with lighthearted gaiety and a less depressing spirit.
But it’s no big deal. I’ll get over it.
If I’m too romantic and hopeful, I’ve just got to suck it up.
Kick Drum Heart 