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One of those crazy teen blogger types. Completely bribe-able with coffee. An INTP.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

In a Year, I'll Miss This

I'm worried about graduating. In about a year, I'll miss what I have now.

I don't mean to say that I'll miss the bullshit decisions of the Cheatham County school system, or the dreadful lack of vegetarian options in the cafeteria, or the new librarian who will, to me, never be able to replace our beloved- and fired- Mrs. Wuller.

No, I won't miss any of that.

But I'll miss getting to see my friends every day. I'll miss cuddling with Jonathon in the alcove in the front lobby while Hammy and that guy whose name I don't know scream not-quite-rude things at other people and I slowly down my coffee for the day. I'll miss complaining with Poland (a girl I know whose actual surname is Zurawicki) during seventh period about the idiots in first period. I'll miss my overbearing dictator/mother of a theatre instructor; I'll miss my nerdy role model history teacher whose student teacher won't quit calling me a hipster. I'll miss Grayson and his snide remarks about capitalism, Marissa, and me. I'll miss my calculus teacher and his Southern genius.

Even the things that are brand new to me right now, I'm sure I'll miss sorely.

I'll miss Ty, the skinny white starving-artist-to-be with the nerdy glasses and the giant music collection and the ability to play the ukelele. I'll miss the snarky new biology teacher who plays it by ear and is so much how I want to be in ten years.

I'll miss so much, and that's why I want to chronicle it.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Broke Up

Oh, hey there. So Kirby and I broke up.

I'm starting my senior year in high school, and I need to focus. He's starting his freshman year of college, and he needs to not be weighed down by me.

We're better as friends anyways.

I broke up with him.

Why my day was terrible, and what made me smile.

This was written the day before yesterday, just for reference.

1. I almost committed manslaughter, or something. I was negligent as hell.

Today, my brother could've killed or injured himself or someone else, and it would've been entirely my fault. I was watching Doctor Who with him in the living room during "nap time," and he wandered off. I assumed he was either watching videos with my sisters in the parlor or playing with my brothers upstairs. He wasn't; he'd gone outside, gotten into the locked shed, retrieved his gun, and gone down to the creek (it's generous calling it that- we're in a rather suburban area). He's eight. Maybe nine. I'm not entirely sure.

Of course, I didn't know that, or I'd have pitched a fit and dragged his ass inside. No, I sat on my lazy ass watching Doctor Who (mreow, David Tennant) instead of thinking to confirm his location.

Needless to say, when my mother got home and couldn't find him, I freaked. Five minutes into our realization that he was missing, he wandered up onto the patio wearing no pants or underwear, his shirt pulled down to cover his pre-pubescent junk.

"What happened to your pants?" Mother asked.

He replied, "I pood in them."

[I am reminded of the scene from Lo when Jeez says, "You look like a small child who just proudly shat his pants."]

We thought that was the end of that. But no.

Later, it became known that my step-dad's keys were missing. We searched and searched, and we found them under the van- if my Mother had gone off with the van instead of wanting to use my step-dad's Mustang (for which I don't blame her), those keys would've been gone.

I'm not sure of the details, but they found the gun- down by the creek, or under the van, or inside the shed amongst broken shit, or something- and put the pieces of the puzzle together. They asked my brother about it and he broke down, sobbing about how nobody loved him.

I almost hyperventilated on the couch when I realized that I could've been the indirect cause of a death or serious injury at the hands of my little brother. That fucker doesn't know how to use a gun properly; I don't know why the hell he has one, even if he's only supposed to use it under adult supervision.

2. I was reminded of my friend who killed herself in May.

My friend Mindy was a beautiful person. She was very reminiscent of Buttercup, if you remember the Powerpuff Girls. She was Asian. She cheated off of me in AP US History. She had a girlfriend.

I don't want to write about the details, but she killed herself in May. It was horrible. I didn't go to the funeral, but there was no escaping the truth. No denial. She's missed dearly, and I don't believe in a heaven, but if I did, I'd take solace in the fact that she could see how much we love her.

All this Chik-Fil-A bullshit is bringing forth a lot of posts by/about gays and lesbians on sites I frequent (read: reddit, reddit, and reddit). I know it sounds shallow, but every time I see something with a little Asian girl or a lesbian (or, goodness forbid, both, my poor heart), I think of Mindy immediately. I think of her on other occasions, too, but this has been particularly relevant lately.

I cried today.

3. No matter what, there's an entire universe to be explored.

But no matter what accidents I cause here or what grief I experience, there's a whole universe- maybe several, but that's getting ahead of the game a bit- waiting to be explored. I've lost someone dear to me, and it hurts like hell, but I have Mars to look forward to, for starters.

This knowledge doesn't make me miss Mindy any less. I'm not expecting to find her. I know that won't happen, and I know that space exploration wouldn't fill the void she left behind.

It's just that every time I get sad, I think of what's out there. What's waiting for me. For us.