Music: Ayumi Hamasaki– “Ever Free”
Food: pumpkin cake
Drink: cider

Merry Christmas everyone!

I’ve outgrown the stage of staying up all night out of excitement on Christmas Eve, and then waking up early. My brother, however, has not. So, he woke me up at seven this morning, and I, with my smeared makeup and disheveled hair, threw on a robe and trotted downstairs where the family was waiting by the lit Christmas tree. We opened presents, but I didn’t get anything memorable in the face of watching everyone else look so happy opening the things that I got them. I think that was the my favorite part of the whole day– watching everyone else so happy with their gifts.

I got the Sims 2 computer game, which doesn’t work with our graphics card, so I guess I’m getting a graphics card for Christmas too (Mommie said so!). Also got lots of black clothes– Mom gave a silk black shirt that feels delicious, and I got forty bucks from Grandma plus other black stuff. My brother gave me the black peacoat I wanted– yay!

Christmas breakfast was great– with the pecan rolls and the sausage. I took a nap then, and then got up, showered, put on new clothes and some jewelry, and watching Harry Potter 3 with my Mom and brother. Ate good Christmas dinner, had dessert, and I’m here now.

Music: “Stop the Music” by Namie Amuro (her 90’s stuff)
Food/Drink: virgin pina colada icy
Weather: foggy
Mood: strangely elated (a most foreign feeling)

Though this entire week, for the most part, has been spent combating clutter from my brain, I have mysteriously cleared it all away with the help of a friendly face. The gritty, annoying dust bunnies that invaded have been put to rest, and I feel refreshed enough to tackle some other gritty, annoying thing– most likely a research paper or some other bit of schoolwork that’s plaguing me.

Val and I spent the day at her house and around the community. We drank hot cocoa, ate lil’ Hershey’s bars and watched Chocolat (which I had never seen). It was a very wise decision to watch the cinema with the addictive sweets at hand, because the whipped tufts of velvety goodness projected in tiny lines of light onto the screen were greeted with an almost instantaneous production of saliva. Actually, chocolate still sounds like something I would very much like to have– excuse me for a moment while I find some.

Well, I’m back. Anyway, we ran errands with her mother to Safeway for Christmas dinner, and I tried not to intrude on the family drama that ensued. I hate that feeling– like I’m in someone’s private personal space. I heard about a million different stories from her Grandmother, who managed to embarass everyone within hearing at the blush-worthy antedotes that granny had collected from their childhood. I remedied this prickly social situation by retelling an embarassing childhood story of my own. Val was pleased.

I feel so inspired now, by her. We talked about writing a little, I spoke of my seeming inability to produce good figurative language as of late. I’m wondering if it’s because I’m writing so much dialouge in my stories right now, but even my dialouge is lacking luster. My writing reads like day-old Thanksgiving turkey slices that have sat in a tubberware container for six hours. Dry, brittle, and like the meat, white. Even adjectives slip through my grasp, pooling in a congealed cesspool at the bottom of the scrollbar on Word. Ack. Ick. I make retching noises as I reread whitewashed bones of cliche phrases and obscure references that should have been retired back in ‘68. Apparently the inspiration couldn’t be found in reading, prompts or other cheap tricks that writer keep washed up on the beaches of their minds like gray driftwood. Not the little trinkets that usually work for writers’ block– though that wasn’t exactly my problem. I suppose I had writers’ movie syndrome, in which a plot plays out in the head with images and dialouge, and no sprinkling of genius commentary or description. The silver smoothness of it had long ceased to even tickle the creativity from my thoughts, aparently a little social interaction outside of the family helped more than I realized it would. Alas, it has lifted!

I suppose I should hold onto this golden nugget as long as it persists, and type up the next chapter of the fanfiction that people are waiting on. However, I first wanted to let anybody who reads this blog know where I am, how I am, and what I’m doing. I trust that you are all well.

Why is it that life has to just kick you when you’re down?

Seriously, I love living, but not like this. Not staying up ’till three in the morning just to complete all my homework– never mind studying for exams. Right now, college is looking a lot easier compared to high school.

All I want is to enjoy Christmas without the understanding that my ex-boyfriend, Josh, as I should call him, since saying “my ex” is so icky to me is pining over me and just about dying with guilt about everything he’s done– and wants me just as much as I want him– even though I know I could never go back to him after what he did to me.

Just Christmas with my family, and not stress.

Just Christmas, damn it!

I love Christmas, everything about it– but I am sick and tired of stress in my life, drama within my group, etc, etc. I just want to be rich and absolved from the responsiblities of school. Seriously, if I got a billion dollars right now, I’d drop out. School is too much stress! Well, I wouldn’t drop out, but I’d definitely drop some classes… Or maybe not. I just wouldn’t kill myself over exams and homework.

I dunno.

BLEH!

At last, the day is Thursday, and my last period before lunch (which is right now) was AP Chem, in which I had an exam in Chapter 6– orbitals, and the electromagnetic spectrum– the hard version of it. I, being the procrastinator that I am, put off my AP Chem homework over Thanksgiving, and while I tried to do it over the week, I had more pressing assignments that demanded my attention. So, last night, tired as I already was from my other late-night homework, got home and knuckled down. I heated up some cider, and put on some poppy, feel-good Christmas carols (until Christina Auguilera got on my nerves, I don’t care what people say, she has some singing problems), so I took it off. I was grumpy, and the pop was too cheery for me. So I put in some classical Christmas chorus carols– ahh, much better. Now THESE people can sing.

The scratching of my pencil on the college-ruled notebook paper put me into a dull, uncomprehending calculating reverie, mindlessly writing out Bohr’s equasion for the energy of a photon again and again, like an automaton. Finally, after my hand had written (1/n^2) one too many times, I took a different approach, reheated the cider, and starting saying everything I wrote down out loud, pausing every few minutes to sing the chorus with the choir. It worked. And after four hours and eight repitions of “God Rest You Merry Gentlemen”, I was finished. Done. Through. … At least with AP Chem, I still had Algebra 2 Honors to do.

What a hellish night.

After my mother dragged my sorry butt out of my warm, comfortable bed in the morning, I was more tired that I had been the day before, and the day before that… Horribly tired. Dead tired. Not the kind of tired you should be for an AP Chem exam.

Well, I turned in my homework and I know that I have insta-100 points on that– he doesn’t check the answers. The exam could be worse. I don’t want to say anything that might jinx my chances. I’ve been known to blow an exam when I’ve thought I aced it.

And now, here I am, happy that Tanya didn’t show up for Creative Art in first period (miserable paranoid stoner that she is… I was getting sick of smelling weed on her), happy that I’m done with the Chem homework, happy that I can move on to my AP Government reading and the Algebra 2 honors packet, happy that the weekend is coming up and that some sort of end is in sight– or, perhaps not. But I’m happy for my little packet of relief, that my late nights are proof that I’m not a slacker. ‘Cause sometimes its really tempting to be.

There are times when I think that college isn’t worth all this work– I bust my butt in high school and wind up there doing even more work for four years plus accumulating a huge amount of debt. But, with a degree comes a better chance at a job– I just wish that Bill Gates would randomly decide to give me enough money to make sure that I’d never work for the rest of my life and live in comfort.

Ah, dreams. High school blows.