But I look around me and I see it isn't so

But I look around me and I see it isn't so

These two are my favorite right now.

But these two are a close second.

Sometimes I really wish high school was the way it was on tv, with gorgeous hair all the time and no actual classes and love at first sight.  But then I remember how it ends, and that it has to end - on tv, everything has to end.  I guess high school ends too, and life, but I'm sappy enough, stupid enough maybe, to believe that love doesn't end.  We all want to believe that, don't we?  That's why there are so many songs and movies and books and folk tales that tell of love - and that's why I believe in it, maybe - because someone at some point had to be feeling something strong enough for them to right it down or put it to a melody or tell someone else about it.     

I'm a sucker for romance, for those cheap badly-written novels, for movies with trite dialogue and stereotypical characters.  But I don't think there's anything wrong with that, because I don't think it's all a fantasy.

Jeez.  When did I become so stereotypically teenager-y and melodramatic?

All things go, all things go

All things go, all things go

It’s the truth that I should be studying for my art history final right now, but I’m not. It’s the truth that my hair is too long and my ends are split and fried from my flat iron, and it’s the truth that my shoes are all over my bedroom floor and need to be picked up. It’s the truth that I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, I don’t know where my cell phone is, and I can’t cross the street without looking both ways twice.

But it’s also the truth that I love the Beatles, especially Paul. It’s the truth that when I was little I wanted to marry Peter Pan and be Mary Poppins. It’s the truth that I can eat an entire bowl of chocolate covered pretzels in a ten minute period, and it’s the truth that my nails are painted ten different colors. It’s the truth that all of them are chipped.

It’s the truth that every Saturday morning you drive to my house way to early and I get in your car with my cup of lukewarm coffee clutched in my hand. It’s the truth that we drive to the beach and sit on the sand, or it’s the truth that we go to Denny’s for breakfast and I forget about counting calories. And it’s the truth that you hum along to the radio and smile at me out of the corner of your eye as you drive. It’s the truth that every Saturday by dinner time you drive me home and come inside and shake my daddy’s hand, and you say, “good evening sir” in that way you always do. It’s the truth that my dad thinks you’re a good boy, a good man, almost. And it’s the truth that I think so too.

But it’s also the truth that you make me want to scream. It’s the truth that your shoelaces are untied and your hair is messy and there are holes in the knees of your jeans. It’s the truth that you pause in the middle of your sentences and lose your focus to the sky or the river or the paint drying on the walls. And it’s the truth that when I ask you a question you don’t like to give me straightforward answers, and it’s the truth that you’re stubborn and impatient and my very best friend.

It’s the truth that I met you when we were little, in kindergarten or first grade. But you don’t remember that now, that’s the truth. But this is also the truth: last year you saw me from across campus and then you switched into my English class, by accident of course, you swear that’s the truth, and then we went out for coffee or dinner or a movie. And that night, at Starbuck’s or dinner or the movies, you laughed and I noticed that your eyes sparkled, that’s the truth.

And it’s the truth that now, as you’re sitting across from me at my parents’ kitchen table tapping your pencil on your book and humming, I realize the most important truth of all. It’s one that doesn’t need to be affirmed by pinky swear or spit-swapping or long lists of devotion. It’s here and it’s now and permanent.

And here it is: I love you. It’s the truth.

Secret dreams

Secret dreams

I love watching the Oscars.  I've always had this secret desire to be a famous actress - not because of the fame and fortune, or because of the actual acting.  What's attractive to me is how tight-knit the industry is.  They're all family, and they all know each other, and when Sandra Bullock wins for Best Actress, she gets up there and dedicates her award to the other four fabulous nominees that didn't win.  They all just seem like such a fabulous bunch of people - George Clooney making faces at the camera and Stanley Tucci joking around with Meryl Streep.   

Obviously there's bad parts of the movie industry, too - the competition and standards of beauty and things of that nature.  But I'm not destined to be an actress, anyway.  If I do end up at the Oscars someday, I'll be the frantic one who cues commercials, or the silent one who directs people to their seats, or some non consequential thing of that nature.

Today I met with an SAT tutor.  He seems to think that my math score is not indicative of my true math abilities, which is a good thing, I suppose.  I absolutely hate testing.  It's so pointless, especially if it doesn't show your true intelligence anyway.  But my mom wants me to raise my score, and so I shall.  She also wants me to enter writing contests and go to writing camp so I can show colleges that I'm truly dedicated.  But I don't know if I'm truly anything - intelligent or dedicated.  We'll see how that goes.   

And I've now managed to get nail polish all over my hands.  On the palms of my hands.  That takes skill, if I do say so myself. 

I nearly forgot to title this

I nearly forgot to title this

I just got back from a mixer for my France trip, at which we played the name game for about 40 hours before being informed that we are going to visit Mont Saint Michel.  I can't explain how excited I am about this.  I mean, just look at it.

Is it not the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen ever in your life ever?  I'm fangirling an island right now.  But really.  It's going to be so cool to see everything from my art history text book right in front of me, in 3-d and actuality and stuff.  And it was also mentioned that when we go to Bayeux to see our new French friends that we're meeting soon via e-mail, we're going to get to see the Bayeux Tapestry.  I basically jumped out of my seat when I heard that, and everyone else was just staring at the floor and twirling their hair like nothing exciting happened.  But I swear my eyes lit up.  I am about 10 times more excited for this trip now than I was three hours ago.

So somehow that put me in an amazing mood, even though I had a horrible afternoon that included getting into a fight with my mom on her birthday and realizing that some of my nanowrimo wasn't understood in the way that I meant it to be understood.  And I didn't get to driver's ed tonight, but I think not being home for more than 2 hours is a valid excuse.  I didn't study for my verb quiz or read Hamlet in as much detail as I was supposed to.  But who cares, because next weekend I'm seeing the fabulous Jason Mraz in concert (again!) and in 6 weeks I'm going to France and there are only 4 more months until my birthday which means only 4 more months until summer!

Woot!  I never say woot, but this situation is very deserving of a "woot!" so here you go.