Thursday, February 26, 2004

Today I woke up bored and exhausted. My life has become stagnant. Last night I dreamed I had become the "man on the couch" Half Baked warned us about. I had no purpose, no direction. I was a person in a stupor on a stranger's beat-up couch. Turns out that "stranger" I was rooming with was who I should have become.
Yesterday as I was skipping chemistry, the mailman delivered a letter from the school. Apparently I've been labeled a "truant" student. I'm not a bad person; I just prefer sleeping to dealing with... whatever. It's almost funny: skipping isn't encouraged, but I have to stay home to intercept letters like that one from ruining my fun.
It's not necessarily that my dad would care. It's that I'm supposed to be the good kid with the good grades; the yearbook editor, the Tidwell who graduates on time. At least I got one thing right; I'm a darn good editor.
My dad has already started inviting family to Texas for my "graduation celebration." I really hope I don't disappoint. My parents are oblivious to my high school failure. It's not their fault they're ignorant. As far as they're concerned I'm doing everything right. I just blame "lost" report cards, and a glitch in the school's auto-dialer.
Last year my brother took it upon himself to fail. He only had two real motivations to graduate at all: joining the army, and graduating before his little sister. After crawling through school, he finally graduated in August, and went off to become a military policeman for the United States army. I wish my life could be that simple.
At times I think I've figured out the system. Life isn't such a task when you give yourself too much credit. It's when you doubt yourself that everything turns to shit.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 13:06 | |


Wednesday, February 25, 2004

Every kiss since yours feels empty.
I hate you more than you could ever know.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:44 | |


Tuesday, February 24, 2004

You think two days off could still be considered hiatal?

.:dr0wningophelia:. 19:15 | |



It was your idea to go together in the first place... If you don't wanna go, just say so 'cause I'm tired of being blown off. And if you "couldn't leave because of the rain," where was the phone call? Why did I have to contact you?

.:dr0wningophelia:. 19:11 | |



Holy crap, my room is messy.... Ah well... I can work on my balance.
I'm not sure who I'm going to prom with now. First I was going with Chase, then with Jeff, and now... I'm not sure. I want to go with someone I know I can have fun with, and... well... not with them. Bah. Maybe Steph will let me steal Tyrell... She already has two dates anyway.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 14:29 | |


Sunday, February 22, 2004

I'm going on hiatus.... Don't expect me back anytime soon.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 14:44 | |




Dave is in Giessen, Germany.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 10:11 | |


Thursday, February 19, 2004

Today I was told I look "like an Osbourne." I'm not sure how to take that....
David's recruiter called today about the information card I filled out. I only did it because Dave had a quota to meet, but now I have a meeting with Sgt. Contreras at 4 p.m. on Saturday. Look's like the military might be in my future.... Who knows?
I've been eating almost non-stop since yesterday. I'm completely full, but I still want to munch all the time.
Mom fixed the straps on my prom dress; now they don't fall. I still need to find bra/booby cups, since I can't wear an actual bra. I can't wait!

.:dr0wningophelia:. 19:10 | |


Tuesday, February 17, 2004

My mom has decided to take a job at SMU, even though it doesn't pay well, just so I'll have free tuition. It's nice of her to look out for me, but I'm tired of talking about college, and getting guilt trips thrown around when I say I'm not so sure college is what I'm looking for.
My dad has started inviting family down for my graduation. So far, Aunt Debbie, Papa and Nana are on the list. I really hope I graduate on time. Today in Chemistry, I found out I have a 21... which isn't too surprising since I haven't been going.... I've already absense failed Chem. for the semester, and we're only a month and a half into it. The pressure's on.
Stephen and I are starting the friend's talks again. Today we went out to lunch, and it was really nice just being with him. I have so much anger inside me, and it scares me that I still want him. I'm trying so hard to be civil and friendly without crossing that line. It's become easier just to keep my distance. But I don't want to.

P.S. I'm here for ya, Geoff.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 19:06 | |


Saturday, February 14, 2004

If I weren't so afraid of an "after life," I'd end it all right now.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:17 | |

















.:dr0wningophelia:. 17:29 | |



After the wedding this morning, we had a bi-family snowball fight. Tons o' fun.
I traded Bubs, the scary hamster, for Brooksie, a hyper, flirty guinea pig. Much better. I never thought such a small animal could scare the bejesus out of me, but Bubs obviously didn't like me. Good riddance.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 15:36 | |


Friday, February 13, 2004

I hate Valentine's day. Tomorrow... Today... my brother is getting married to Valerie in her sister's garage. Sunday he leaves for Germany, and she'll meet him there after graduation. 100,000 soldiers are being sent into Iraq, and David might be one of them.
I've been listening to Ben Fold's Five, "Magic" on a loop tonight. It's such a beautiful song... Makes me lonely. I hate Valentine's day.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 22:27 | |


Thursday, February 12, 2004

Is it too late to put my life together? I'm only seventeen, not even an adult, but according to my mom, and my English teacher, I should already have my life mapped out for the next ten years. I should have a college, a major, a career in mind. I should be able to look ahead without fear.
Of course, I have the big points marked down: a cozy house, a fridge full of food, loving husband, cute puppy, three boys of my own... I want to study literature. I want to take a photography class. I want to paint murals on the fence in my backyard. These are the things that really matter to me.
But the fact is, I can't even crack open a daily planner without stressing out. I'm afraid of committing myself. I don't make plans until the last minute, just incase something better comes along.
I've learned one thing this year: never tell anyone you don't have a plan. Everyone has their own advice to share, and usually it's, "Just wait until college. Things will be different then." What if college isn't what I'm looking for? Would I be doomed to live a life of poverty, boredom, and utter hopelessness? I doubt it.
Life, to me, isn't about earning money. Money is only paper. The real value one earns is through their experiences, and if I'm unhappy with something I'm doing, or not doing, then I'll change it on my own.
You see, some people are boots: straight-laced, uptight... That's just not me. I'm more of a sandal... a flip-flop, if you will. I'd rather be free to wiggle my toes. It's a corny metaphor, but it'll do.
I want to travel around the world; visit England and Spain, Australia, Peru... I want to nap on sandy beaches; sip wine in grape vineyards; ride elephants and camels through the desert. I'll own land in the country; waking up every day, breathing in the morning air. I bet life tastes better with more trees around. I want a life without worries. I want news channels that mention the good things that happen. That's what I'm looking for, and I'm sure that I'll find it once my path is in view.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 15:01 | |


Tuesday, February 10, 2004

song of the moment:
you've been forewarned of the shake-shakedown
opinions stamped on the pulp of the tabloid newsstand
gossip that's stacked at your door
you swallowed the last of free MA
car starts, four windows lowered away
last views of cityscapes crumbling
skyscrapers sink into the ground
all static, no noise: turn the radio down
those bandwidth signals can't reach this far
don't go holding out on me now
don't go holding...
I thought that you had come to expect more...
you've been forewarned of the shake-shakedown
opinions stamped on the pulp of the tabloid newsstand
gossip that's stacked at your door
don't go holding out on me now
.:death cab for cutie:lowell, MA:.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 22:11 | |



Tonight as Dad and I were watching Gilmore Girls, the doorbell rang. It was David Ross... "My David," from so many years ago.
David was always in search of trouble; it seems he's finally found it. Last month he was let out of jail... He served six months for a burglary he swears he didn't commit... He says it was his third "visit." He has 22 misdemeanors, and 3 felony charges on his record...
Yet another wasted youth.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:26 | |



An English assignment:

Once upon a time, not too long ago,
there lived a young woman with little pride to show.
Her name was Brenda, and she was a beauty,
but she didn't know it. That wasn't her duty.
When she walked down the street all eyes were upon her;
her eyes were on Hortense, an able-bodied creature.
Hortense knew he was hot stuff. He would strut around town,
flexing his muscles when anyone was around.
Every woman in town swooned when they saw him,
and the men all wanted to be his friend.
One day, Brenda decided her courage was ready.
She walked up to Hortense, and asked him to go steady.
She knew it was a long shot, but thought, "What the heck."
To her surprise, the beefcake said yes.
That night, they went out for dinner and a movie.
How happy she was that things were going smoothly.
Hortense talked a lot about nothing at all,
but Brenda didn't mind; she was starting to fall
head over heals for this jerk in a suit.
Though his words were all selfish, he was really a beaut.
Not once did he stop to ask about her,
but Brenda was happy enough to purr.
After many dates that all ended the same,
she knew all about him. He knew only her name.
Once again, her courage she mustered.
She mumbled incoherently, then became flustered.
"Huh?" he grunted, "What did you say?"
And Brenda repeated what she'd tried to convey.
"Will you marry me, Hortense? You're my perfect fit.
We've been together a while, and I think this is it."
"I'll marry you, Brenda, if you do one thing for me.
My name cannot belong to one so portly as thee.
You say you're only one-fifteen pounds? I need less
to fit into my life, or any wedding dress."
"Anything for you, said Brenda. "It's a deal!"
And off she ran to dispose of her meal.
One hundred, ninety, eighty-five pounds:
Brenda wasted away her life for a gown.
She asked him again, "Dear Hortense of mine,
I think that I'm ready for your love this time."
"Oh no," said Hortense, "I don't think that you are.
Your nose has grown to the size of a car.
Get that whittled down, and then we'll see
Just how great your love is for me."
So Brenda consulted a surgeon from Saxony.
He mutilated her nose until she looked "Michael Jackson-y."
Once more she asked Hortense of wedding bells;
as he answered, her tears began to well.
"I'll do it now, because you've tried
to make yourself a glorious bride.
But be forewarned, I'm into guys.
Don't think you've won yourself a prize."
The day of the wedding, she waits by the altar,
but no beefcake, no hunk, no Hortense is there.
She had to have known, it was so obvious.
He ran off with the priest and left her in the dust.
The moral of this story, I suppose
is don't spite your face by cutting off your nose,
for you may become "Michael Jackson-y" too,
and then no one will marry you.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 18:11 | |


Monday, February 09, 2004

Side note: Geoff is hot. And his hair really is mad sexy.


.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:00 | |



I'm not sure where my head has been these past few days. Jen introduced me to a guy named Steve last Thursday. He's had a thing for her since they met two months ago, but she led me to believe that she wasn't so interested, and told me he was more my type than hers. Turns out she was right; he is my "type," but I'm not allowed to act on that or even let him know I'm interested. She's already in a "serious" relationship, but seems to think I'm invading on her side project...
I love Jen... she's one of my favorite people.... I just don't see how she can play with so many guys and not feel guilty. I've only known her for about a year, but the entire time she's been in one "serious" relationship or another, and continued boy scouting on the side. I just don't understand.
Today in journalism I told her that I liked Steve. She seemed fine with it, but told him otherwise. She seems to think that all of this has happened before... She mentioned Logan and some guy named James. The thing is, she hated Logan from the moment we both met him. She never mentioned before that she wanted him. And I don't even know a James... Except the James I dated in the seventh grade, and I doubt she knew him. I'm completely confused.
I don't want Steve to think that I'm "pretending" to like him. I don't want Jen to hate me. I hate drama.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 18:12 | |


Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Bean died tonight... Pecker's not looking too good, either... I feel horrible... I'm afraid I've been neglecting my rats. I was too caught up in teenage bullshit... I hope Pecker's just sleeping... I'm a horrible person.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 20:08 | |



Autophobia: the fear of being alone, or of oneself. I think my fear of being alone started when my parents divorced. Scientists say memory begins at age four; I don't remember a lot of what happened, only that every one was angry. Daddy says Mom abandoned us every night so she could party. Mom says if she had stayed, she would have killed herself. I look at pictures of our family from a time I don't remember. These people look happy; their stories don't match.

Athazagoraphobia: the fear of forgetting, or being forgotten. Mom left our family in the middle of the night, to live with her sister in Arizona. She came back two months later, expecting us to have forgotten about everything, but we were a team and we didn't need her. We were a family with no room to grow.

Daddy spent years after the divorce jumping from dead-end relationship to dead-end relationship. A person is worthless if they're unwanted. My Daddy knew this, and he taught it to me. He would date women with extra baggage (abusive children, drug addictions), so he could feel needed. Daddy adopted their personalities for a short while, then realized he was unhappy as they were walking away. Some may say, "It's not right for a man to cry." At my house, it was a common occurrence.

Dementophobia: the fear of insanity. I've been a self-diagnosed manic/depressive since the sixth grade, when I first heard the term. I would lock myself away in my room to cry... lay in bed for hours.... I hid my emotions behind a fake smile. I hated everyone I had ever met, including myself. My ambition was gone. My dreams had disintegrated. But no one noticed. No one knew. Atychiphobia: the fear of failure. I had lost control, and I wanted it back.

I found power in many small places, and I savored the time it spent in my hand. Power was hiding in drugs, and in alcohol. It danced in the darkness while I gave myself away. Power glowed in my eyes as I heated a lighter, and resounded in my screams when the pain became too strong.

In March of 2003 I began therapy. I was sent to a counselor named Betty Anne Derryberry, who asked me to talk out my problems with my inner child. My family doctor did nothing but throw pills at me. After two appointments I knew it wouldn't work, and I moved on. I started seeing a psychologist named Michele Steigleder; a lively older woman with a composure I coveted. I trusted her with my thoughts, but I never found the words to get them out. I was afraid of disappointing her, so I went back to playing happy. After eight months I had her convinced, and she let me go.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 14:29 | |


Tuesday, February 03, 2004

and a date to match.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 21:09 | |



I found my prom dress!!! Mine's kind of a maroon color, but aahhh... so purdy.


.:dr0wningophelia:. 15:43 | |


Monday, February 02, 2004

I'm bored... it's been a very dull day. Tomorrow I don't have to show up to school until 10:40... Woohoo.
I've decided I'm going to ask Chase to go to prom with me. No sense in waiting around for someone to ask me when there's only two months left.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 19:22 | |


Sunday, February 01, 2004

I spent the night at Chase's last night. I love sleeping with someone in bed next to me.
Last night he said he considers a girl a slut if she's had more than five partners... he's slept with six girls. How's that different?
I'm going to find a coloring book. Woo hoo. Fun day ahead of me.

.:dr0wningophelia:. 09:37 | |