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.



Snow dance

The first thing I thought when I woke up this morning was: “It’s six-thirty. Oh, no.”

The first thing I said when I woke up this morning was, “No… shit.”

Today was going to be the best day of the week. Monday through Thursday sucked, but today was going to be a riot. Or, at least, I was going to be comfortable and cheerful because today was Tye-Dye day and I was going to wear a bandanna.

Tomorrow was the Winter Ball, and I was going to look amazing and have a good time.

Well Merry Christmas, obviously I can’t have it all. What a weekend this was going to be. And in comparison to what it is now, I can say with all pessimism, what a weekend this is going to be. The doldrums inside and a blizzard out. What fun.

And since my mom is home and somewhat pissy, I can’t even complain out loud. Well, guess what? I don’t want to sound “full of myself” (which is her most recent issue when it comes to my attitude), but I hope they know what they’re doing. If I don’t see snow by two this afternoon, I am going to be very, very angry.

This ruins my entire weekend. My family isn’t the kind where I can just make plans spur-of-the-moment. And if I hadn’t spent money and thoughts on it, I wouldn’t care so damn much.

However, my week has been shitty as it is. I’ve been exhausted and short-tempered and frustrated. I was counting on this weekend to be an anti-stress time. Just fun.

Well, screw that man, we got gypped, and now I can sit at home like a bum and do whatever my mother tells me to. 

I will sit down and try to finish crocheting, and I can guarantee you within five to ten minutes I’ll hear a, “Hey, why don’t you unload the dishwasher. Come help me fold clothes. Your room is a mess. This house is a goddamn  pigsty and not one of you care about it but me.”

Yeaaaah.

Happy weekend.



Love-hate

I love the xylophone.

I hate wasted potential. And wasted time. 

I was talking to Kenny today, after a shitty “lesson”– where we just practiced our solos. That wouldn’t have been so awful, except Fried decided that Paul, Kenny, and I should all practice in the aud; we can’t socialize, can’t help one another on our solos. Just straight practice.

And again, that wouldn’t have been so bad. But she was bitching at Kenny for being at the grand piano, and then demanded to know if we were messing around– I had just gotten into the aud, and he was just sitting there. She also yelled at Paul (which I’m fine with), but she was downright cranky. She was in band this morning, too.

That bothers me– that she doesn’t bother to attempt to understand what her students are feeling. She doesn’t try to make band an enjoyable experience. Some days it is, others it isn’t. I hate that. Making music should be a learning experience, a team exercise, and an individual pleasure, at least in my book.

A difficult teacher with mood swings isn’t the best conduit for useful knowledge. : (  It makes me sad.

I was grumpy today, too, because Paul doesn’t give a shit. He has the potential to be very good, very talented, but he just shrugs and says either “This is gay” or “Whatever.”

I guess I’ve just been in a snappish mood today. I was cranky and angry in English, and in my lesson. It’s unlike me. I don’t know if I’m turning over some unusual leaf or just venting frustration.

Who knows.

Well, until later, then. I need to shower, then it’s off to play rehearsal, where I can do the chem homework I have due tomorrow, work on my AP essay, and maybe knit a little bit. Knitting is calming, right?