In some forgotten space where the envy and the hate swim around in figure eights

In some forgotten space where the envy and the hate swim around in figure eights

I think I'm getting sick and I feel absolutely dreadful, which I just wrote in a British accent, in case you couldn't tale.  I'm done with gen 1 of "Skins" and it's breaking my heart because Cassie ran away to New York and Chris' dad won't let his friends come to the funeral but they crashed it and Sid followed Cass to New York and isn't it funny that two of my favorite characters ever are named Sidney?

I just rewatched the finale of "The OC" and it made me so happy even though I feel ridiculous, and it made me sad too but not as sad as "Skins" did, and tomorrow I'm painting my nails and getting my hair cut and hopefully going to formal, unless I wake up feeling like I'm dying, but I really hope that doesn't happen because I really love my dress.  Today I drove home alone and sang along to "Who Owns My Heart", which my sister doesn't let me do because she hates Miley, which I think is due more to a lack of exposure than actual hate, which bothers me because I think you have to experience something to really have an opinion about it.  But anyhow it made me happy despite feeling gross and all this stupid stress and the apps I still have to finish and everything else. I hate when people ask me to defend the things that make me happy.   

I should go to sleep now because I don't think I've made any sense and I all I've done is fall in love with Sidneys and use a lot of commas.  I do like commas but only sometimes not always.

And boys soldier on

And boys soldier on

Sometimes words play themselves over and over in my head in these rhythms that I've never heard before but seem so familiar, and I can't get them out and I can't write them down because I'm not sure what they are but still I have this compulsion to write now right now and do nothing else until I've done that.  I've got dozens of blank journals and a nearly infinite supply of hard drive space but I don't have a story to tell and I think that's the biggest problem. 

The rain hasn't let up in days and right now I've got the hiccups and this evening I took a nap on the couch while my dad was watching the news, which is really just the weather report, rain rain rain, over and over again.  I've got no plans for the rest of the week so I can get everything done that I need to get done but instead all that time to do with what I wish making me feel energized I just feel sluggish.  I want to sleep, sleep, sleep, and somehow it's nearly 11 at night and I'm not sleeping and now I have this sudden longing in my stomach for "The OC." 

And then we start the end

And then we start the end

Day 2 - Your crush

I don't have one of these right now, and I have thought of several possible reasons why:  (1) I have impossibly high standards, (2) I have accepted the fact that crushes are pointless because I'm antisocial and never actually talk to anyone anyway, (3) I am in love with Seth Cohen, and (4) I am a very boring person.  Also there is the possibility that all of this possibilities are true. 

As to why I took several days off from blogging:  I have been contemplating titles for my yet-to-be-written application essay/s, nearly dying of cramps, attending Rosh Hashana services, teaching people how to spell, pretending I am going on a canoeing trip, and going through my shoes. 

God, I can't wait to graduate. 

I saw you cry on that late December evening

I saw you cry on that late December evening

So here I am again, blogging from my itouch, which is kind of a pain in the ass because you have to change keyboards to get to the comma, and I'm a very frequent comma user, but I haven't turned my computer on today and it feels too late to do so now. I'm exhausted from today, strange considering I sat on a plane for 45 minutes and then I went to a pawn shop and taught my grandma how to make a grilled cheese sandwhich and sat in a car for four hours. Or maybe I'm exhausted from watching the saddest hour of tele ision known to man, or at least known to older teenagers, and it has my head aching and my eyes hurting and my stomach all tied in knots, and my foot is twitching, although probably that's caused by something else.

Tomorrow is the John Mayer concert, which I'm utterly unprepared for. I'm sure that sounds stupid, but I feel like I won't enjoy a concert if I don't know the music. I haven't studied up ahead of time like I usually like to do. I take things to seriously, don't I? That's probably why I can't keep friendships afloat or make art or zone out during the safety instructions on an airplane. I thougt I was working on that.

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water

The most interesting thing I did today was finish one-half of my lit summer assignment.  Also I drove my mother and my little sister places, forgot to paint my toenails, and screamed at the television as it so innocently played "The OC" for my enjoyment.  And I discovered (while emptying various bags in an attempt to find one that will hold my stuff and my father's for our day-trip to Vegas tomorrow) that books I'd forgotten about were hiding from me.  I now have literally no more room on my bookshelf, which shouldn't come as that much of a surprise as this seems to happen to me every few months, but I feel like I just gave away a whole stack of books.  Also I found the most amazing pair of pants today, which, like all amazing pairs of pants, cost a ridiculous amount of money that no sensible mother would ever spend on a pair of pants for her daughter.  So, knockoff jeans makers, here's your cue.

Also, can my life just, like, be a Taylor Swift song?  One of the happy ones?  Who the hell am I talking to?  Oh fairy godmother!  God, I have to get up at 5:45 tomorrow morning.  Blogging > Sleeping = My life.

So many special people change

So many special people change

So about thirty seconds ago I was just sitting here at my computer staring at a picture of Adam Brody, and suddenly I thought, "I hope he doesn't get old and end up disgusting and look like he had plastic surgery like Kevin Bacon does." What is wrong with me?

I attempted to explain my thinking about all of it, this year and all of it, to my mom today in the car - while I was driving - and I'm pretty sure I only made her think I'm crazier than she originally thought. I'll accept crazy, though. Crazy can live alone with her dogs and watch "The OC" as much as she wants and never, ever, ever clean her room or throw her old magazines away. Crazy can dye her hair without a second thought and Crazy can refer to herself in the third person and Crazy can avoid her friends as much as she wants and hope that that'll make everything better.

God, even during the summer do I manage to make a mess out of things.

Won't you come take my hand

Won't you come take my hand

So remember that time that you and your mom went to Newport, Rhode Island and explored a few huge mansions from a hundred years ago? Remember how hot it was that day, and remember how you wore your cute blue romper with your little white sweater? Remember how you have to wear your strapless bra when you wear that romper, the stupid little strapless bra with the rubber strips along the bottom? Well, remember how when you took the bra off later that night you had big red lines all along your back where the rubber was? Lucky you - those lines, they've now turned to scabs.

On nights like this all I want to do is curl up with a book and not wear contacts and pretend that Seth Cohen is real and that he's mine. During the summer I always fantasize about becoming a published author and being able to make a living writing and watching "The OC" and forcibly removing Nickelback from the face of the planet. I want an everlasting summer - but don't we all? It's so full of potential and hope and that new-book smell.

About you now

About you now

My dog has separation anxiety.

We're all leaving tomorrow, all of us besides my dad.  My mom and I are going on a ten-day college tour and my sister's going off to Jewish camp for three weeks.  There have been suitcases all over the house for days, constant laundry, redundant list-making.  Apparently my dog Gracie is a bit saddened by this, because tonight she decided it would be fun to pee all over my bathroom. 

I completely understand separation anxiety.  I understand the fear that when someone leaves they'll never come back.  I understand the fear of being left behind, forgotten.  But she is a dog.  She is an overweight, pampered, seemingly potty-trained dog who gets a lot of attention and a lot of love and has another dog to play with at home and isn't even being totally deserted because my dad's still going to be here.  Maybe I should be flattered, though, that she peed the length of my bathroom and not my parents' or my sister's. 

Before I came home to that, I went out with my friends and saw "Toy Story 3" and visited Gabs at Dairy Queen and had fun and felt like a teenager who was hanging out with her friends in the summer.  And this afternoon I finished season 1 of "The OC" with my sister.  I've packed season 2 to take with me on our east coast tour so I can watch it in hotel rooms while my mom reads books.  That's a huge turn of events from the way we used to be.  I'm not sure it's a good change, but I almost love "The OC" too much to care. 

If I could for just one night

If I could for just one night

Still stuck in my head:
"Cuz baby now I realize that I was wrong
When I said I didn't need you, soooo
Miss you bad so now I'm comin' home
So you better leave the light on
Wait for me and just leave the light on, heyyy"

Still watching:

Seth: What? Why, this is not supposed to happen.
Summer: You have to find the stud!
Seth: You mean like you did Summer?
Summer: Mhm, just get me the stud finder.
Seth: Oh Summer, I think you are the stud finder.

Still not:
Following people on tumblr who post a lot of "The OC" if they post too much KStew and RPattz shipping. 

Still wondering:
What the hell is wrong with me. 

Madly madly madly

Madly madly madly

This show breaks my heart to no end.

It's fricking after midnight right now and instead of sleeping like my mom wants me to be I'm sitting here at my computer wondering why there is so little OC love on tumblr.  This is a travesty considering that the number of quotable phrases Seth Cohen spits out per 43-minute episode is higher than that of the mismatched socks in my sock drawer.   

"I'm just having an allergic reaction to the universe."  

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?

On my way back home

On my way back home

Here's a recap of last night:  went to bed at midnight, woke up at 2, got out of bed at 3, went back to bed, read for an hour, finally got up at 4 am, went to the airport, went out to breakfast with mom at 6, went back to bed at 6:30 and slept till noon. 

Tonight's going to be the same, I can feel it.  I can't force myself to go to bed because I don't have anything to do tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after.  That's my least favorite part of summer, all this sitting around, acting like a vegetable.  All I did today after I woke up at noon was drive my mom on all her errands.  At least driving's getting easier.  But changing lanes is beyond terrifying.

Maybe I should go to the library tomorrow, find something to read.  Then instead of watching "The OC" and "Friday Night Lights" I can read something besides The Princess Diaries and Pride and Prejudice again.  God, I'm such a sap. 

And I failed the 30 day challenge.  I'm a sap who's spending her summer rotting away and can't even finish a stupid 30 day challenge.

I can't think of a good title

I can't think of a good title

Thinking about "The OC" makes me sob uncontrollably.  Hearing the theme song makes me cry.  Remembering the end of the series finale gives me this horrible knotted stomach ache thing that won't go away.  There is something wrong with me.

Being the totally self-aware person that I think I am, I know that this is all relating to the crap Thursday-night-and-on that I had.  (Plus, you know, like, pms, and stuff.)  I didn't want to think about that, so I watched "The OC" instead.  And now all of the crying I wanted to do for that has transferred over to "The OC".  But it hasn't really - today was still a bad day, because of all of that and gross hair and not enough time until France and having to say "I'm fine" even though I don't feel fine.

In the scheme of things, I am fine.  And next week, I'll be fine.  These little things that are no big deal - for right now, they are a big deal.  I hate that - stupid teenager self-centered thingamajig ugh. 

Okay Kate Chambers, quit statusing things that relate to my life.  Really now!  (Note exasperation at myself and also sarcasm.  Status whatever statuses you want to status.  Status is not a verb.  Oh well.) 

Anyhow.  I left my cell phone in the bathroom.  But I've realized that it doesn't even matter.  No one ever calls my cell phone.  No one ever texts me.  Why do I even have a cell phone?  Oh yeah, that's right - I'm a paranoid freak who's scared of getting stranded on a street corner in the middle of nowhere.  Not that I'm every in the middle of nowhere.  But you know.  Just in case.

Right back where we started from

Right back where we started from

I just watched 8 episodes of "The OC" in a row.  Well, okay, I took a twenty-minute break for dinner.  And there was the occasional commercial.  My love for this show has completely resurfaced.  But this time around I'm favoring Ryan over Seth, and I'm watching season 4 so I'm rooting for Ryan and Taylor.  It's the best stress reliever.  Despite having completed barely a tenth of my homework, I'm feeling accomplished and calm and better than I have all week.

So, yeah, a bad week.  But I only have another week and a half til France.  And I'm hoping that when I'm in France, away from everyone, from the internet and my computer and my cell phone, I can take a break from all this crap for a while.  I can surround myself in the French language and the history and the amazing art, and just forget about everything that's here.

Of course, I know that's not the best way to deal with my problems.  Yesterday night, though, that's all I wanted - to run away.  I'm glad my mom didn't let me.  Hiding from things doesn't make them go away.  I think I've reached that point where I'm making no sense.  I really should go to sleep.       

I love this picture.

Pretend there's something more left in your town

Pretend there's something more left in your town

This is a Looking for Alaska sort of night.  A crying over The Notebook sort of night.  A night in which I wish I am Emma Watson, get nostalgic over "The OC", and wonder why Owl City lyrics are suddenly so relevant to my life.  I've reached this point where no one can tell me what I should do, because no one knows.  But the problem is that I don't know either.  I'm sitting here listening to the playlist I'm working on for my French penpal and I can hear the heater fan humming and I'm thinking that I should repaint my nails tonight because I hate when they get all chipped like this.

And I'm wondering why I'm not more upset.  An hour ago I was screaming at my mom for giving me advice that I didn't want to hear and now... Now, I'm just not sure.  I suddenly feel like everything's going to be okay despite the fact that there's no way everything could be okay.  It's like the ending to "Pearl Harbor", a movie that I'm sure I think about much more than anyone else who watched it in AP World last year.  Ben Affleck's character and Josh Hartnett's character are best friends.  But then one of them dies in the war (I don't remember specifically which one but I don't think it matters that much) and the one that didn't die ends up with the dead one's girl friend.  Then they have a kid and name it after the dead one.  They were happy, Kate Beckinsale and the not-dead character, as happy as they could be, but they were still living with the thought of the dead character.  So it worked out, but really, it didn't.

But chances are that I put way more emotion into that movie than it actually had.  It was a war movie, after all, about the bombings and crashes and explosions.  But I'm me, oversensitive, overemotional.  Feeling things that aren't really there.

Or rather, feeling things too heavily.  That's what got me into this mess in the first place.

As the Kangster has been known to say time and time again, "BLEH."