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Showing results for tags 'The Yin/Yang Story'.
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Recently, Mae and I have hit one of the biggest rough patches we've ever faced together, but for reasons of her own privacy and potentially maybe graphically and possibly legal reasons, I can't disclose that information. She and I are still strong and we still love each other, so to be honest, I'm just happy I can still hold her in my arms. If any of you have been praying for me recently, I owe you more thanks than you realize. Thank you. On to other things about life, I'm not sure if any of you realized this, but "The Day After Tomorrow" was playing outside my window outside, and must I say, it was boring. Like, I didn't get any wolves chasing me, New York is not flooded or a frozen tundra, I didn't get the chance to take refuge in a library, I didn't run away from ice, and I still make fun of Al Gore just because I make fun of everyone equally out of general principle. Diversity doesn't mean we shouldn't mock each other. So yes, I have won the 6-Day weekend as much of New England has, and get more time to study for Midterms. Or to spend it just like "Snow Day" like the younger version of Josh Peck did (anyone remember that Nick movie? No? Dang it, I'm getting old.) So, I'm continuing my work with the GSA, and we're off to starting the Ceiling Tile Project mentioned in the last entry and I've decided that won't be the only thing I'll be doing. I want to support many a charity and humanitarian effort in the world, including Save Darfur and American Eagle's Help Haiti Heal T-Shirts. I want to see if I can go to the Dominican Republic or Haiti this summer or, what I want to do even more, go to Africa (preferably help in the refugee camps in Chad from those who escaped genocide in Darfur). Oh, in case you all didn't know, THERE IS A GENOCIDE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. Seriously, it ain't "Hakuna Matata" there right now. Or a Disney version of Hamlet either. Update yourselves. Aside of knowing what I want to do for the rest of my life, I'm also going to be applying for a community college to get core classes out of the way. It'll reduce the cost of college if I attend for two years, potentially get a job if I get an Associate's degree, and getting job and acting at the same time is possible. And if I make money from acting, then guess who's donating even more money to relief efforts? You don't have to be rich or famous or important to help people. ~AA
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The GSA stands for the Gay/Straight Alliance. Recently, I have joined my school's GSA. Not due to my political opinion on gay rights or anything pertaining to my sexual orientation. I think I realized what I want to in life the most. I think I want, more than anything, is to fight for equal rights. Whatever one's political opinion may be. So, since the GSA at my school is large in size but small in... doing anything, I decided to take an initiative and get started on something called, "The Dream Project". The idea of the project is to spread the message of Anti-Bullying and Suicide Prevention. Letting kids know there are proper adults ready, willing and able to talk to you if you ever felt targeted or had dark thoughts. So Dream Project is the major title, while the project itself is many little projects which include: -The Ceiling Tile Project -Starbucks Coffee Bake Sale -UNOs Doughraiser -Barnes & Noble Book Fair -Other potential fundraisers and cause outreaches The Ceiling Tile Project is a concept I came up with when I saw an art student's work in my class. He painted a picture of his girlfriend on a ceiling tile, and put it up in all of her classes. Why? They had to be separated because her parents extremely disliked him. They came around, but still, it was a message to her that he was always there with her. It was sweet. The story made me tear up. Then I went into business mode and capitalized on that. Paint the ceiling tiles of multiple classrooms (the Principal approves and loves this idea and wants it IN ALL CLASSROOMS, if the teachers are willing) and have it start classroom discussions when a student asks about the tile. "Why does that tile mean?" "It's in memory of a student who died because he was bullied." Well, that hits home. Raise your hand if you been bullied or have bullied. Raise your hand if you have thought of taking your own life. Statistically, that's a lot of high school and middle school students. I also want the project to be "alive" as well. Or as I like to call it, "with a pulse." The teachers can switch around tiles, so that there is never one tile that is painted that melts into the background. Teachers in Massachusetts and in many other states are required to discuss issues about bullying and report concern for a student if signals are sent. So, why not try to change the world, even as small as a school? Oh, and when this Ceiling Tile Project is done, we're going to ask the middle schools if they like this. I've gotten the interest of other GSAs in neighboring towns to do this. Keep in mind, The Dream Project isn't just for gay anti-bullying or gay suicide prevention, but AGAINST ALL BULLYING AND ALL SUICIDES OF ANY FORM. Away from the Ceiling Tile Project, there is also the matter of funds. The GSA has none. It has no need for funds. Well, that don't sit well with Jonny, because Jonny likes funds. The GSA at my school forget the meaning of the word "Cause". So The fundraisers are being made to make funds to put into our bank account (they forgot they are also a non-profit organization) and at the end of the year, we pick where we'd like to donate that money. The money more than likely will go to a support group clinic or Teen Outreach that counsels depressed teens and/or adults, or churches or temples that have support groups or group therapy. That's what a Cause needs to do. It needs to actually do. So, I guess you can say I'm in Cause Marketing. Because change in the world doesn't happen unless you try to change the world. ~AA
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Seriously, fill me in. I'll give you an update. Grade: Senior (stayed back my sophomore year) Relationship Status: In a Relationship Since June. Her name is Maegin (pronounced Megan). She knows you all. She reads this blog. She knows what kind of people you are. I've had a lot of time to rest, think, be myself, learn about myself, be a ##### to myself and those around me, and all have an excuse as to why I have that right. I've become what monks called enlightened. I found my true, inner disliking to large groups of political parties and people entirely. You see, back last year in August, I fell and twisted my ankle. Or I thought I twisted my ankle. I was trying to perform a 540 kick, but I stopped midway in fear of how awesome it might be and the consequences that would follow. I saw that, because of the fact this kick was going to be so cool, I could disturb the very reality of the world I live in. It would cause earthquakes, erupt volcanoes, create tsunamis, drop the stocks, stop the production of water bottles. COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS. Because I prevented your death, no good deed goes unpunished. I received a small tear in an ankle ligament on my right leg. For the last year, I've been walking on it, avoiding running unless extremely necessary (we won't talk about those moments) and limping. A lot. Mostly all the time. Apparently I have whats called a 'High Pain Threshold', so being in the middle of a financial crisis, I didn't sway anything. I had no health insurance. I had no money. We were living in someone else's house, and we did for nearly a year. It was one of the lowest points of my life money-wise. But we got back on our feet, my mother found a job, and so did I. When you hit rock bottom, the only way you can go is up (or continue being in rock bottom, but that is dark and spooky). I couldn't really connect with the people there. Now we live in an apartment complex again, tight space, but we've made it home. And we're happier. We aren't out of the blue quite yet, though. MassHealth is annoying. Got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, if you want great news! But I didn't tell you the cool part though. I went to London, England and Edinburgh, Scotland! In London, I picked up a new best friend. His name is Tiny Tim. Spirited, young, tough as steel. Because he is an adjustable walking cane. You see, because of all the walking we did in London, my ankle was ready to give. I couldn't stand it at that point. We walked 15 miles of London, with hardly any rest. It was torturous. We stopped by a row of ATMs, and our director Donna told us this will be our one time to take out cash before going to Camden Street (if you know Camden Street and you're a tourist-y tourist, you'd want money). Because I believe in a large, spiritual being who looks at me occasionally and kindly thinks, "Hm. Sure, I give him a bone", there was a pharmacy across from the ATMs. There, Tiny Tim and I were united. Pictured: Sexy Since London and Scotland, though, because of the aggravation, the pain hasn't ceased. It's gotten only worse. The cane became permanent overseas. I walk in school with it, I walk to places, I go to Starbucks together with it, I fight crime and beat the innocent (to make up for fighting crime), and at the same time, I dislike it. It's annoying not having two hands ready and available when you walk and stop and have to manage the cane you now have to hang on your pocket to do stuff and whatnot. But just because I got a cane doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. The flames makes me go faster. So, that's what's up with me. What have I missed? ~AA
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Yesterday, after a lovely day at school (by lovely, I mean it was about as graceful as a gazelle stomping on a baby lion for revenge)... He had it coming, trust me. My mother left work early and we went to an orthopedic surgeon to diagnose if my ankle needed surgery or not, or whatever he could do to it. So, after poking my foot in 14 places as if he was a pressure point master working his voodoo on my appendage, he wrote a form for me to take an X-ray on my foot. We head over to radiology and get the X-ray, come back, and found that the condition has become a little worse than expected. It's a ligament tear, but also with bruising of the bone and surrounding tissue. He gave me a boot to secure my foot in and told me to get crutches and to completely immobilize my foot for six weeks when we'll look at it and pray that I won't need a cast. The things is, crutches basically immobilize me. If that was the case, I would've broke my left leg to balance it out and get a wheelchair. I knew exactly where to go if ever the motivation. So, until the 13th of December or so, I'm pole-vaulting every step I want to make. The only benefit of this all is the thought that I'll be in walking condition soon enough. Really, this effects everything from my grades to my acting. I can't cross STAGE LEFT to STAGE RIGHT in character. Nor can I walk to the store to grab food after school. Or walk to Barnes and Nobles, get coffee and snack'ems, read books, write essays and lab reports, get into a depressed mood, and write really bad poetry. I mean, even my bad writing is taking a hit from this! Come on! This isn't fair now! I can't think of any good writer who had a disability! Not a soul! Aside from that, I spent today just simply trying harder. AHAHA, I'M JUST KIDDING, I NEVER COMPLAINED MORE IN A DAY IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! You see, what happened before getting the crutches was a class called Exercise Physiology. Physiology, but with exercise as labs. So because we need to sign a contract saying we consent to their exercise labs, no matter how painful, we had to do bicep curls. Until we couldn't anymore. 5 times. I'm not this guy, but I just saw Batman & Robin, so I know that I'm a better actor than him. So my arms are having a hard time even extending fully, let alone lift anything. Including my 210-pound frame. SO WHERE'S MY FREAKIN' WHEELCHAIR?! Right now, I'm limited to a pair of crutches and a boot. Which is why I titled this entry "Canadians". Get it? A boot? Aboot? Canadians? From Canadia? Better than Alaska, though. Alaska: Canada's Canada ~AA
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Well, it being the time of year, I feel like owe it to you guys to tell you that I still remember this blog, your blogs, this site, and how my life ranconcurrently with the blog entries. Guess you can say I'm coming home. It's been busy. I've moved from my last town, Framingham, to the town next to it, Ashland. Finances finally caught up with us, and now I'm roomates with my amigo Thiago, whom I've known literally since his birth (I was sleeping in the waiting room with mommy holding me while he was busy getting out of the stork's bag, you can say) with my mom and sister renting rooms in his parent's house, which is close to the Framingham/Ashland line. Have to say, living like this is tiring and at the same time, all the freedom in the world. Let's run through a daily rountine. 6-7 AM- Wake up, shower and all that jazz, BOUNCE. 7-8 AM- Try to make to school on time, stay there until it gets out at 2 PM. 2-??? PM- Hang out after school, rehearsal for school play, if no school play- hang with amigos until probably 5. ???-??? PM- Find a friend's house to stay at or (a) friend(s) to hang out with, wait for a ride home or get a ride home from a friend. Whatever-time-I-get-home - when-I-sleep PM(or AM)- Do homework. The majority of each day since moving here back in mid-October is spent outside of the house. A blessing and a curse, really. Relaxing doesn't usually fit in here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Around October, I got myself a girlfriend. See if I can wash away any lingering thoughts of the previous relationship. Unfortunately, even after a year, I couldn't feel actual feelings for her. And she saw that. We broke up, no tragedy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I'm still a part of the Drama Company, and working for it is harder then ever now. Since we were invited to join and perform at the World's biggest theater Festival in Edinborough, The Fringe, we're trying to pull off something no one else is really crazy enough to do. Send 75 people across the Atlantic. You see, when you add up everything needed for such a trip (two weeks in a hotel, airfare, food, the works), it's price-y. Like 5000 dollars kinda price-y. So, what's a guy gotta do to get there? Labor. I worked the summer with my dad again, saving up 1800 dollars, all of which is already invested into the payments for the Fringe. The head of the Drama Company, Donna, is helping out with the payments as well, and told me to worry about fundraising and I'll be doing my part. So, after continuingly busting my butt, I can say Donna was pretty happy to hear my name pop up so much at the last Scotland meeting. After raising 400 dollars in a UNOs fundraiser, getting a 300 dollars donation from a woman who wanted her yard raked (Big yard + Landscaper-for-a-dad Experience = Me) and dubbed me hardest worker, assisting an eBay fundraiser (ON-GOING)and a Papa Ginos fundraiser(this Wednesday), most of the parents who attended the meeting said I deserved a break. Well, it was fun... ...think I'll do some more. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I miss you guys. ~AA
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...So back on May 12th, I woke up at 6:30AM on a Saturday in pain. It was strange to me. It was like indigestion, but it packed more of a punch. I had to wake up early that morning anyway, had a Saturday school (like I said before, I'm no saint ) so I figure considering I felt something like this back on New Years and I simply waited it by reading Breaking Dawn from halfway to finish. Unfortunately... The pain got worse. I couldn't stand it. I woke up my mom and told her about it. She gave me Mylanta; the stuff you take for indigestion. I feel better for fifteen minutes, and I'm back to pain. The pain increased. I started writhing. I was contorting my body in ways you'd think I was possessed. Right across the middle of my abdomen, to the shoulder blades and kidneys, I was in pain. I could not lay down in peace, could not stand in peace, could not exist in peace. Now, I don't have medical insurance because we couldn't afford it, and the last thing I want for my family is a bill past the two digit range. So when I started begging my mom to bring me to the ER, you know I'm tortured. After waiting an hour in the ER, we got a room and a doctor. Thank you Lord for morphine. I got out of the hospital on Tuesday, and missed a week of school (and with that got my half-credit in Biology which I aced anyway for my attendance record). Luckily there was a House marathon that Monday to give me some irony. After an ultra sound revealing I had gallstones and a CT Scan confirming I had acute cholecystitis, I was given antibiotics to fight the infection, and was told that I was going to have surgery in four to six weeks to remove my gallbladder. With the gallstones in there, I could receive another infection or get cancer later on in life. You all know I hate the very thought of cancer. I was placed on a low-fat diet. For the last two months, I could not have any diary, pork, NOTHING over 4 grams of fat. Chips? Nope, pretzels. Chocolate milk? Nope, skim. Pizza or a burger? Nope, turkey wrap hold the mayo. Next time you think you should ask God to help you lose weight, you better be ready. In the first 2-3 weeks, I lost 10-15 pounds. Last Monday, the 6th of July, I had surgery to remove my vestigial organ. I spent the last six days recovering, and right now, I can walk. =D ------------------------------------------------------------- The last three months had it's fill of drama. People thought Rachael was cheating on Miguel with me, I denied the claim and convinced Miguel otherwise, thus bringing back the couple. I stopped all rumors in the freshman class (stupid freshmen... *sigh*) that we were going out at all because I went to Cotillion with her (Miguel had a bumpy road in his life and I was her #2 guy if he couldn't go) and aside from vanquishing rumors and stopping drama from happening best I could, the school year ended well. The last 180+ days have been... staggering in making an impact in my life. I made a career choice, and I made an effort in my grades. I made so many friends, and lost who I loved. I have no contact with old pals, but made a best friend in Rachael. I remembered how to smile, but forgot the tears. I think I grew up a lot this year. And the best/worst part is, there's a whole lot more of it to do. ~AA
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The Day of Silence: The National Day of Silence brings attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying and harassment in schools. Each year the event has grown, now with hundreds of thousands of students coming together to encourage schools and classmates to address the problem of anti-LGBT behavior. Friday, our school had the program. We get a pin that has "Silence" written on it to show we are participating. The way we protest is to take a vow of silence the entire school day, and not say a word all day. If you slip once or twice, that's fine, but full-on conversation? Well, that defeats the purpose of the protest. How ironic that the all male a capella group, Tuft University's Beelzebubs, came to our school the exact same day to have the Fine and Performing Arts center members of Chorus, Boys and Girls A Capella, do a workshop with them and then watch them perform. The workshop was fun. I got to work with four members of the group out of the thirteen (coincidence to their name, they have an unlucky number of members) and they guided us to learn the bass vocals of "Sign, Sealed, Delivered (I'm Yours)" by Stevie Wonder and join them onstage and performed it with them. It was more fun than I expected, and it felt great working with them. I hope to continue a capella into college, because I would do nothing but love it. After that, I started my vow of silence and continued on through the day. But before I went to third period, I dropped by my Spanish teacher's room for one thing: A small white-board and marker. Swearing in silence is amazingly gratifying. Of course I slipped a couple times. When you have the chance to dis someone or come back with your quick lip, you usually instinctively take it. Those weren't good moments. Though fifth period came, all the silent fun stopped. Lee Anne is one of my best friends. I love her til death. She's a mother, a little sister, a big sister, and the cutest thing you can have the coolest conversations with. She's my family at heart. Unfortunately, sometimes the best people are the unluckiest. She's an epileptic. I knew this of course, and I knew she had seizures in school, and the range from the seizures that are okay to the really bad ones. The really bad ones are the ones she doesn't see coming, unlike the other ones that she sees coming and she can take something before it goes bad. Today in our Algebra class, she had a bad one. She got up, telling Mr. Morabito that she was doing bad. Morabito spends time helping her in study; he knows what bad meant to her. She got our friend Mark to help her up and maybe walk her now. Five steps towards the door, she said she couldn't make it. Her face was a bright red, and her eyes watering up quickly. Her expression was one of intense pain, and her body looked ready to collapse. I broke my vow of silence officially and said I could carry her down while Korey(Ryuu) supported it. Once we stepped outside and she laid down on the ground, she looked like she was quietly crying as she endured a horrible pain of a thousand needles. Morabito tried to ask her what to do, because he sure as heck knew he and all three of the guys with him from the class (including me) didn't know. Lee Anne told me she's not aware of much of anything when seizures happened, and even the okay ones, she forgets her last name. The principal came up and informed us the nurse was on her way after Morabito called her. Three other teachers in the hallway stopped and surrounded her. I never felt so helpless to someone I've loved before in my life. It was like I was watching her die, and all I wanted to do was hold her tight and take her pain away, but that was the most impossible thing I could've done to help. The nurse came up seconds after the principal, and we were told to get back in the class. Fifth period runs for an hour and a half, and a half hour lunch went in either the beginning, first middle, second middle, or last half hour of the period depending on the subject. Math subjects got second lunch (first middle), and the moment we were let out, I headed straight for the nurse's office to see Lee Anne's condition. The nurse told me Lee Anne was doing better; the seizure was over and it took a whole lot out of her. She was resting on one of the cots with the curtain closed for her privacy. She let me in and I kneel to get to eye level on Lee Anne as she laid awake. She told me she felt embarrassed about it, and I told her not to; that everyone in class was simply worried about her and wanted to know if she was alright. I asked her if she wanted me to bring her lunch or anything at all. She said she would get her own lunch eventually when she felt better, and asked for me to bring down her the test we were going to have after the half-hour lunch was over. Of course I was skeptical of whether she was in the condition to, and she insisted on it. I've heard stories of Lee Anne going back to class after a while of resting, so I figured it was fine if she was capable. I told her if she needed anything just to simply call me and I would be there. I kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye to let her rest. Fifteen minutes passed, and Lee Anne is up walking and looking extremely exhausted. I walk her back to class, and Morabito nearly begged her not to take it. It was going to Spring Break, and coming back and having to do a test on something she can't recall was a good idea to her. Not like the nurse didn't beg her to stay resting already. Lee Anne's a strong girl, and I love her unconditionally as a part of my family. -------------------------------------------------- After school, it's 70 degrees, and it felt a little like May... I grabbed my friend Robby and we headed down to the nearby gas station and grabbed all the junk food we wanted. Came back... my Crunch bar was nearly devoured by both Rachael and Deanna and Rachael stole my second dang Pepsi! I chased her down and once I took it, I put her in a headlock. Once Kayla tried to steal it from me, I wrapped her in a headlock too. a double headlock and a Pepsi in my hand I can't really unscrew and drink due to said headlocks. I let go, Rachael snatches it, shakes it up and cracks it open. If I didn't love her so much, I would've superkicked her. Later on, she wanted to get a sip. I said no. She went to her boyfriend, mi amigo Miguel and asked if she could flirt with me to get a sip of Pepsi, and he said sure. Sure, she put on a good act, but it's not like I was going to get anything out of it. so I denied her again. By some miracle, she eventually gets it, and has her fill. This is usually what happens in my social life. I have to admit, this is why I enjoy my life right now. I get to be with my friends; the ones I don't have to be a different person around. The ones I can be happy around just by being around. Though I won't be with all of them forever, and this'll all change given two years when they head to college or move or anything, I love them now, and that's a fact. They are my forever nostalgia, they are my peaceful paradise. They are the friends and family I never had, but the family I'll probably never get to keep for my entire life. I'm glad I can enjoy it now, to at least get the chance to enjoy and treasure it. Having them let's me know more about life. It won't last forever, but you get to at least enjoy it now before you lose it. Love your true friends, and live a true life. Both will die, but you can't lie that the love was there and will be eternally. ~AA
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Fail Better, Let Love Continue To Love, And Remember Until The Ends Of Time.
Arch-Angel posted a blog entry in blogs_blog_777
Routine lives are usually what drives insanity. A man that works a 9 to 5 job in a cubical without any social life outside of his prison will damage his mental stability. Unless his daily life is either one of two things: 1. Removal of routine and do something different which may change up every once in a while. 2. Keep with a routine, BUT... the routine evolves differently every day. That's Number 2 for me- Rehearsal. Rehearsal for my show, '¡Bocón!', this week was nothing short of great. This was the final week for rehearsal before we were up on stage performing for our first our school, then our family + friends, and finally for the preliminary round of Festival. Everything is great from Monday to Thursday. Our performance level grew better each coming day. We felt ready for our performances coming up; so ready that it felt kind of repetitive. Friday, February 27th 2009 Our first performance was in the morning during D Period for all the Spanish classes and my Acting class. The feeling backstage was one that basically said, "Here we go for the hundredth time, only with 300+ classmates." That was the only thing routine about this week. Soon after I walked out of the dressing room, the vice principal pulls me out of my crowd of amigos, grabs a social worker, and a cop. Son of a... I knew what this was exactly for too. Two weeks ago, were had to write journal entries. But these entries had to based off the assignment they gave us: Creative Writing. Write a short story. Simple, right? Then they gave us the category of fear. Even simpler. We all fear something. So I talk to my English teacher and told him that this was not foreshadow, but a legitimate fear. He said okay, and I figured that was that. I wrote my rough draft of the fear. I handed it to him and reminded him it was fear. He said it was a pretty good story, the fear being under siege. He understood. The fear was a school shooting. Nothing scared the ###### out of me more than Columbine or Virgina Tech repeat. What can be worse than facing a gun at a place you consider safe? So when, at the end of that week, we had to finish the story and type it up, and the only story I could give an ending to was the 'fear' rough draft. It gave a setting, a character I could use, protagonists, antagonists, the works. I'm a writer, I go for this. I've taken a Creative Writing class (any long-time readers will know THAT was "fun" up until the last day), and I love to read, so I believe I can write a suspenseful story if need be. I wrote it up, full two pages, double spaced in MLA format, and turned the dang thing in. Now here I am, a cop staring at me, a social worker thinking every sentence I say is a hidden message that I need help, my vice principal, and the principal. Apparently there is no precaution you can take. I explain everything in detail, answer every question, and I stayed honest. Honesty is the only way I get out of most of my problems. Even with what I said, even explaining that I told my English teacher before and after and had him proof-read the rough draft, they weren't convinced. I understand their reaction, I just don't understand the over-reaction. They called a 24-hour Psychology Service to psychologically evaluate me, to see if I was 'safe'. The vice principal goes to see my English teacher to see if what I said was true. The officer waits to spice things up. Apparently my English teacher has selective memory, because he recalls nothing of the sort WHICH DID HAPPEN. I didn't another word for my fear could be "under siege" if it wasn't him. The psychologist comes in, a woman, nice lady. By the end of the questions and conversation and she sees me as safe and fine and NO THREAT TO ANYONE. They call my mom at work asking to come over to see how I react around her with this information. She's got bills to pay, she sends my sister who is also my legal guardian. Everything is fine. my sister understands me. The psychologist understands me. They are dubbed the only sane people in my head. Cue Officer Pain-In-My- He says that he and another officer should go over to my apartment and search my room for weapons. I let them search my pockets, my backpack, et cetera. Now with no evidence, they want to search my room. I let them. I didn't want to go through the process of them getting a warrant if I refuse, and I figured the less I fight, the better I prove my innocence. Hard to do when you have a lying teacher, a social worker that like to put the exclamation point at the end of all my sentences, and a overly cautious hard-headed rude cop wanting to prove you guilty, thinking you're in need of mental help. He comes back, finds nothing. He even went on my bookface plus mypersonalspace. LOOK AT ALL THE EVIDENCE THEY HAVE AGAINST ME: 1. A paper about my fear of school shooting, guns, and all that THEY are afraid of. Fascinating. So the psychologist is told to set up an appointment for counseling on Monday. My sister comes by (she went with Officer Rudemuch) and picks me up from school. I didn't go to one class, not one. I was aggravated. My sister and I talk in the car as she took me out to lunch at the local Brazilian Steakhouse. The one good thing from all of this was that I got closer to my family. We were all aggravated from this. I get home around 3:30PM and have 2 and a half hours to get back to the school to prepare for the night showing of '¡Bocón!'. Relax a bit, take an Advil in case the knees start acting up later on and to take care of the headache I got from the whole... thing, and took a shower. Went to the show, got make-up on, costume, played my role, took care of the set, had dinner that night with the rest of the cast, carried on. Perfect way to end a horrid day, and it was still a bad day. But the best memory I had that night was at the end of my show, my dad walked up to the stage and got Steve (our set designer, practically my American dad) to call me. The moment I walked onto the stage and saw him, I ran and jumped off the stage and hugged him as tight as I could. '¡Bocón!' is a story about the journey a 12-year-old boy from El Salvador trying to cross the border into Los Angeles after his parents are taken by the soldiers controlling the country with an iron fist. My family immigrated here, my distance families immigrated here, and more of my family with immigrate here. I know this story. I know the people who've experienced it. They are mi familia. To see something telling the struggle... what more could I ask for? Saturday, February 28th 2009 Festival. It was a lot like Theater Exchange, except most of the schools kept to themselves because... it's a competition (not like it's a sport Oh freshman drama children...). When we went up to our play, the feeling of the play suddenly changed. It was serious atmosphere. This was what we prepared for since December. Time to pull out our best and aim for the prize. We received a heck of an applause after our performance, which, even though we got a good crowd reaction, still left us a bit nervous as to if we would move on to the semi-final round. We striked the set, went back to our dressing room, got changed and back into the theater to watch the last show. I get a call later on. My mom and my sister came in five minutes late. They couldn't see the show because the ushers outside wouldn't let them in. My mom cried, angry with herself. Sister told me she kept saying how this was the one moment I've been living for in months and when I wanted to show her, she messed up by being late. I wasn't surprised. Really, my mom's late for nearly everything. So at first hearing this news, I was fine. It didn't take long before getting under my skin. This was something I wanted to show them so badly. It was my pride and glory. No other show I could do could carry more inner meaning to me than this one. And the possibility of not going to the semi-finals to give another opportunity to see me was enough to shoot down my happiness. Rachael saw the look on my face and knew something was up. Leave it to a girl to crack me open. How do they do that? Nevermind, I already know. I confess the stress to her and she attempts to encourage me. She told me that '¡Bocón!' was awesome and their is no way we couldn't get into semis. Doubt still lingered in me and of course, she knew. She distracted me with her humor and by switching topics, and eventually they worked. I was distracted by it. Even more so when we went downstairs to the Festival Dance in the cafeteria. Flashing lights, deafening sound of songs, single chicas? All I needed was a Pepsi and I was halfway to being home. I danced mostly with Rachael. She has a boyfriend, and she knows I want her to only be my friend even if sometimes the Crush Rush lands on her. So with this in our minds, we didn't have any trouble dancing away; fast dancing or slow dancing. By the end of the dance, I think I danced with five girls, picked up two, did one group dance, and lost five pounds. The time came for the Award Ceremony, and everyone at the dance walked back to the theater. This was the moment of truth for all of us. The judges that saw our plays would now hand out awards for each person(s) that they felt deserved it, and at the end announce which three plays out of the seven that competed tonight would move on. The Award Ceremony was exciting, and each time you heard one of the judges describe the winner you felt either you were it or someone in your play was. There was a time where a judge described my character and some of my friends up front guessed me quietly, though I thought it wasn't me. I chuckled at myself when I was right and didn't get the award. It didn't matter to me. They can keep their awards. I just wanted '¡Bocón!' to move on to the semi-finals. When the time came for the plays that'll move onto semis, everyone grabbed hands. The first play was announced; Weston's For All The Wrong Reasons moved on! They wrote the play themselves, and included a perfect sense of emotion and comedy. You could give empathy to each character and laugh at the silly jokes they gave. But at the end of the play, your eyes swelled up with tears as you saw a man's life broken by his ignorance of responsibility. We gave an applause and held hands again. I prayed. I prayed hard. I begged and begged and pleaded and I don't think I stopped until I heard the next name. "¡Bocón!" We jumped in the air at the news. Everyone started hugging the other. I started thanking the Lord. We sat down and waited for the next name. Algonquin's The Underpants! My favorite comedy play I've seen so far is moving on! I don't care if they're competition, they're acting is great, their script is great, their execution of saying things that would make me start rofling on stage was great! The judges said good night and we got up and started doing what we been urging to do: hug each other. In the mist of hugging Rachael, I suddenly realized something. My mom and my sister will get to see my play. Everything this play has to say, I get the chance to say it to them again. I started tearing up again. Then I just started crying I was so freakin' happy. After clearing up the water works, I went around, joining the hug fest celebration with the rest of the cast. We go out to eat at Friendly's, have a grand time, and I finally go home with the good news. Monday, March 2nd 2009 Snow day. Tuesday, March 3rd 2009 Fifteen minutes before first period ended, I get a call to go to the main office. Sean warns me. The main office is the Principal's territory. No good news will come from it. I knew that. After what happened Friday... I get down there, and roll my eyes the moment I see our Friendly Law Enforcer, Officer Pain-In-My- through the office windows. I hoped this wasn't about Friday... again. Walk in, am introduced to the Principal's office, where four people at a round table sat waiting, and one empty chair waiting for me. I take a seat and the discussion begins. After realizing my existence on Friday, the Principal was informed by my grade office principal that my grades weren't good enough to be in this play. They let me perform on Friday and Saturday because they heard the news that day and there wasn't enough time to replace my role. I received four F's last semester, but my midterm grades were great. Even then, though I am showing improvement, I cannot be allowed to be in it. There went everything. I lost my motivation in school that moment. Whatever got my progress up, that was gone. I don't like school. Who does? I stayed in school because I met these people. I lost the people I love since coming to this town, and I finally find people I can love. I find something that allows me to send a message to the community, to the world, and it has closer meaning to me than anything else I've found on stage. Being in that play made me drive for better grades. Made me drive to maybe make a career out of it. Be an actor on stage? Perform in theaters in Boston? Perform on Broadway? Perform on the road? Perform in a movie? Perform in a award-winning movie? Perform in an Oscar-winning movie? I always wanted a little golden man on a mantel in my living room. But most of what shot me in the heart was the fact I'll never be able to perform that play for my mother. Ever. Because they can't see the reason I went from failing four classes to one class is because they're looking at the person I was before I changed with this drive. The thought of it lights a fire in me. An angry fire. NOW I want to shoot somebody! I lost everything that drove me in the school, so did you think I cared what came out of my mouth? I kept my logic up as I insulted each one that played a role in this since Friday. "I got a cop outside the door that thinks the slightest twitch I make means I'll shoot up the school, a principal that thinks I'm obsessed with Columbine and Virgina Tech, a English teacher upstairs with selective memory as to what material he reads, a vice principal that didn't know a thing about me and tries to be my friend, a social worker that likes to put the exclamation point at the end of every sentence I speak, and this all rounds up together with me getting kicked off the one thing that's been driving me to do better in school, friends that'll believe I've betrayed them, still going to an English class being taught by someone with amnesia, and random psychiatric counseling sessions because you all think because I have a 'troubled past' which means I could possibly eventually pose a threat to this school! I don't have any problems in my life right now until you guys saw me and tried to fix a problem that wasn't there. Congratuations, you've made a problem. You got rid of my motivation, got rid of my social life, and gave me unnecessary counseling." They asked if I wanted to see the social worker. I told them the last person I wanted to see was him. They believed I wasn't in the right frame of mind to go to class and see the English teacher that started it all, and they were right. I would've started throwing words at him that would've left the man bruises. I would've lashed out harder and faster than I ever have had before. For all I knew, I would've punched the man in the jaw and simply walk out of the room as if nothing happened. They asked again if I wanted to see the social worker. "I don't want Mr. (social worker), I want my God!" Figured the only thing at the time that could give me any comfort was a Bible. They said they had to leave me with a trusted adult until they felt I was calm enough to go back to class. Fair enough. No one popped up in my head that was available, so I got... The accursed social worker! My vice principal was walked in with a Bible after spending fifteen minutes in SW's office. Spent the next hour trying to read various parts of it and commenting back on his questions. I couldn't get a peaceful moment out of it unless he walked out of the room to handle other business. Eventually I was able to calm down enough to prove to him I could go to class without having an incident. Walking down the hallway where most of the Drama Company gang hangs out isn't fun when they all know you're out of the show that means the world to you. Rachael grabbed me yet again and I vented to her what happened. After school, I went home and by force of the school because of Friday's incident and the Social Worker dude, I was brought to the freakin' psychiatric counseling. More venting. I rambled on and on about the day and how much Drama meant to me, and how it was gone. After a half hour, I got a slip again proving I'm sane and I I was to give this paper to SW. I left the building, headed over to the Dunkin' Donuts next to it, ate a Turkey-Bacon-Cheddar flat bread and a Diet Pepsi, and waited for my sister to drive me home. I got two or three hours of sleep that night. Wednesday, March 4th 2009 I woke up feeling stranger. I felt lost, yet on a set path. My eyes burned with each glance at light. I knew today was to be a busy day. Had paperwork to hand out. I grabbed my shades and didn't bother shaving, and headed out the door. Once I got to school, I made a bee line through the drama kids and only stopped for one hug from Vanessa. I went on a hunt for the social worker. It took 15 minutes and I couldn't grab breakfast because of it, and I handed to paper of proof I went to the unnecessary counseling. After school I went to the rehearsal to watch the show for the first time offstage. I felt uneasily when my replacement went up on stage as my character. He doesn't have the happy loud-mouth father figure I wanted my character Luis to have. He's a great actor, one of the best we have, but I've worked on this character for three months... he had until March 14th. By the end of the play, I was in tears. Not because of the fact I wasn't onstage, but the message was sent to me rather than me helping to send the message. It felt so strange being on the other side of the theater... March 5th skipped to March 14th 2009, Drama Festival Semi-Final Round After a near-hour bus ride to Andover, Massachusetts, we get off and head into our assigned classroom, which is basically given to us to put in whatever personal crud we feel necessary to leave in there. I didn't have anything so I took the gallon of water they gave us and the tiny paper cups and had a shot row. I felt kind of dry. After watching six plays in a row including our play (Beyond Tolerance, ¡Bocón!, forgot the name of this one whoops, Tom Jones, History & Poetry, and Sakuntala), go to a 'dance' (it was horrible, the cafeteria had a glass wall thing, lighting the place with sunlight and we wanted something along the lines of a Under 18 Club? Me and about fifteen other actors/crew went outside and played extreme catch), we went back into the theater to attend the Award Ceremony. The Award Ceremony was full of tension in the air. It seemed all friendliness is gone. It's Finals or bust. Happily we got quite a few awards for our cast and crew, all of whom deserved it. The look on their faces when they were completely bewildered they got anything built up the happiness you had for them, mostly because it was entertaining to see. Though through each chosen actor and technical crew member that received an award, you got the build up of nervousness. Did our play pass? That school's play was amazing, and I wasn't watching me on stage. Oh boy... Finally. The time came. We held hands once again. I had a corner seat and had to cross my arms yet still reach my friend Harry behind me. Dang near start choking myself trying to hold it. "And in no particular order, the first play that will go on the Final Round of Festival is... ¡Bocón!" We leaped into the air. It was Hug Fest '09 from there. "And the second school to go with ¡Bocón! to the Final Round is... Sakuntala!" We got up and applauded Cambridge Rindge & Latin School onto passing Finals. The judges said good night and everyone went right back into the hug fest. The excitement and happiness we felt overwhelmed some to tears, but the ear-to-ear grin on my face was good enough. March 21st, 2009 The last week, I was feeling cold. Not an emotional cold. Not a "I have a runny nose" cold. A "The very blood the run through my veins has been laced with icicles" cold. I was shivering. I wore multiple layers in weather that should only require a sweatshirt. The touch of anything remotely cold sent me shivers so strong you could hear the chatter of my teeth across a room. My sister and mom have noticed I ran light and high fevers throughout the week, and something wasn't right. I wore my thinsulate gloves, my heavy jacket and my sweatshirts just to feel comfortable as if in room temperature. At night, I bundled up on thick blankets whenever I went to bed, still shivering, and woke up in cold sweat. After serving my Saturday School detention, my sister picked me up. When my sister picks me up, there is always consequence. If she has to pick me up, there will be no such thing as going straight home, but instead a trip across the county of Middlesex, Massachusetts. I'm still bundled up in my sweatshirt and jacket, and holding even a can of soda that was in the freezer can make me feel like I'm naked in a blizzard. So when I go into the Liquor Store and buy a water bottle and Diet Pepsi, wait in car as my sister is getting fitted in a Bride's Maid's gown, I turn on the heater. When I was finally relaxed, she came back and turned off the heater, telling me it was too hot. The moment she rolled down the windows and we were up and running, I started the shivering. After a while, she sympathized with my chills, turned on the heater to guard me from the cold wind of the window she kept down on her side. Suddenly, my vision changed. It was as if the sun was behind a cloud the entire time that bright day. The road lit up. It started growing shades of brightness and things became white. My nausea grew and I started taking deep breaths, thinking it would help (it didn't). I was demanding with what I could for her to pull over. She parked the car, I got out, and my stomach made it's final turn before I spilled. It was mostly water. I know you were curious. My sight was back, and some people stared in the Walgreen's parking lot. I honestly thought we were on a highway, not in-town. My vision at the time didn't help. After calming down and my sister calling my mom as she went inside Walgreens to buy me Ginger Ale and Chicken Noodle Soup as directed, we decided to wait for my dad. After all, he lived in the town and he was the closest responible one who knew what do to (mom went on a Church retreat). After some discussion with him, we figured we let me off at home and see how the day went out. Three or four hours later and a few Advils, I felt good enough to go out with my dad for dinner. I felt as if I just woke up from bed, and dragged my feet as we walked in the mall. The dinner was simply half a glass of water, an untouched glass of Diet Pepsi, and Calm Chowder (my favorite). When we walked back to the car, I felt nausea again, but it ended up with nothing. I go home, go to sleep, and hope Sunday will tell me the sickness is gone. March 22nd, 2009 It was 3AM when my sister woke me up. She said I was going to the emergency room because as she came in to check up on me, my fever each time was a different temp, all hot. Now, I hate hospitals. I hate the ER. Not because of personal reasons, but financial reasons. We have no health insurance, and keeping my health is a priority for me sometimes, simply so I don't have to give my parents this bill to worry about. But what can I do when I have orders from both mom and dad? In the ER, they draw a vile of blood and test that for... something. I get the usual round of questions sent at me, and with Advil PM in my system, caring is hard enough. An X-Ray showed I had a beginning stage of pneumonia and was told the most likely reason of my misery was probably Mononucleosis. The doctor said she felt 99% sure, but I needed a Mono Spot Test to confirm. I'm prescribed a 5-day antibiotic medication for the pneumonia and we were off by the crack of dawn. March 24th, 2009 I see my actual doctor, the pediatrician who been taking care of me since I tiny enough to punt. At that point, I felt much better. Headaches and fevers don't come and go, and I feel at 100%. He checks all the symptoms one should have for Mono and cleared that I had another infection and the antibiotics I took for the pneumonia took care of both. What a relief. March 26th, 2009 The first day of Finals. Not much to say other than the John Hancock Theater needs Pepsi. The excitement of Finals is brought up to a point where making friends with other schools seems easier. It was without tension, but no one can be sure there won't be any once the Final Award Ceremony begins. Unfortunately, I'm not in the play. But look, I'm still with the people I love. I have them, I have my grades up, and I have my self-respect. I have who I am, and it is who I want to be. Life isn't easy, I still have my pressures, sure, but who doesn't? Not like tomorrow I won't face another batch, and then another. It's my life, and though I write it down in this blog, I'm not complaining. I want these memories. I hate when I come to this chair and type things I have vague memory of, so what I have now is what I am. These are my memoirs, my journal, my biography, and my portal into deep thought of my own reality. And I wouldn't trade my memories for the world. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. -Samuel Beckett ~AA -
I realized I've had a problem. It's been going on for weeks, and takes a weekly pattern. I have a different crush every week. It's almost always based on personality. Let me explain. I was talking to my friend Adrianna in English class like a usually do, and she cracked a joke we both started laughing about. I looked at her again, and it was like going from an old Technicolor movie to HDTV. She became more beautiful to me, simply because I knew her personality better. I remember when I first saw her back on the First Day of the School Year, I thought we wouldn't get passed one full conversation, now we're friends and she's incredibly cute to me. Though my intimate feelings for her have passed. Because like all the girls I socially interact on a daily to semi-daily basis, I have probably had a crush on them. The longest one of these crushes have lasted was about nine days. It was this dark haired, blue eyed girl who's beautiful in her physical aspects, but her personality she hides. That's why the crush lasted for nine days; I couldn't get to know her until she started to remotely open up. Oh, and what didn't help was her first name being Carley. It really is a problem for me. I have no control of my feelings for them, and I know it isn't true love I feel for them, but some other form of love. But I can tell you there are a lot of beautiful girls in Drama Company, and with rehearsal every day, they get more gorgeous by the hour. Though my heart doesn't land on any girl right now, except for one. Miss Anonymous. Rachael from the December 20th section of this entry (who was one of the first weekly crushes I had if you read December 25th section) IMs me Sunday or Monday and asks me if I like someone. Being in the mood, I tried to note her actions, and I typed them out to her too. I knew she had something to gain from knowing if I did or not and that considering she was bugging me constantly for me to answer, I knew she knew something. So I explained to her my situation (noted above) and I glad she understood. I continued playing my game of reading her every response as if it had a secret meaning, because I knew it did. I guessed correctly that it was because she knew someone in Dco liked me, and that someone talks to her. I tried and failed to get her to play 20 Questions with me, and at least got the satisfaction of knowing it wasn't a guy. Though, throughout the week since she told me, the near-endless list of girls run by my head. I try to add up so many things. They must know Rachael, must know I talk to her, made Rachael make a promise so well she refuses my every manipulating plea to tell me, and I believe in is our play. It narrows the list well, and it shows. I know this one girl and Rachael have beef, Rachael doesn't like that one girl, these girls already have guys, et cetera. So I gave her an alias for myself. Miss Anonymous. Unfortunately, I have no clear idea who it is, and the narrowing of the list is going slowly. It's annoying. Every time I see Rachael, I shake my head with a grin and say "I hate you" and she giggles quietly. (Un)fortunately, I'm seeing someone on Sunday. My friends, Tom and Hillary (mentions so many times in this blog), were hanging out back on... December 30th? and gave me a call while working with my Dad. They tell me they got a girlfriend for me. Clearly, I'm confused but in reality of the whole thing at the same time. They tell me they're gonna bring me to their city and introduce me to Michelle, someone they were talking about who's single. Tom is going to drive me there, we are going to pick Hillary and Michelle up, and hang out in town (of course, I'm buying). Consider it a double date, accept your male amigo is gay and the other girl has no interest in you whatsoever... so yeah, basically Michelle and I with friends. I'm nervous to say the least. I don't know what will happen, and it's not excitement, but pure fear of the outcome. Will I fall in love with this girl? Will I not like her at the end of the night? Will I find out who in Dco likes me, or will Miss Terry fade in the confounds of my mind? I just know next week, I either walk out with a girlfriend, walk out with a mystery lingering in my mind, one broken heart, two broken hearts, or my broken heart. ~AA
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Read this first. Due to a snowstorm, meeting Michelle was dumped. I've tried to keep in contact with her but my life got too busy in the last two (or was it three?) weeks. You guys would know, I haven't made an entry in a WHILE. Lemme see if I can get all the names... BarbieTyanieLee AnneStephanieStephanie (there are two)JillRachaelEmmaMs. AnonymousAdriannaMichelleVanessaCarleyCarley (there are two)SydneyElizabethEleanorMonicaRachelAmandaDanielleMeganKatieBrittenyAlineDeannaAmyLeaAnnaSandieSarahOliviaThose are the names of every girl I've fallen for since the last entry. This "Crush Rush" was killing me. In two hours of loving one girl, I'm loving the next. It was torturous; loving a girl and making plans to ask them out, only to switch up and start loving another chica! I decided to talk to Rachael about it. She's really now considered one of my best amigas (and I'm apparently one of her best guy friends) and she wanted to do a process of elimination thing after I made the list above. She knew she was one of them, but when she asked 'Which one of these girls do you think you love more?'... ...Well I was honest with her, and she was kind of shocked it was her. I mean, seriously. Rachael is a beautiful girl with a love for theater, a sarcastic sense of humor and a love for fun (not the bad fun) and she just so much more of what I love and who I can trust. Though I was quick to tell her that I'm one-hundred percent fine with being friends. It doesn't have to go anywhere. If she sees me only as a friend, what I am to do besides be her friend, which is exactly what I'm happy to be? Of course, the Crush Rush is still continuing, but I still got love for Rachael. Right now, I love her as a best friend. Last Saturday was Theater Exchange. An event made 17 years ago involving multiple schools across the state of Massachusetts where they all come over a hosting school for students to see others perform. At first I was nervous, but soon after I met the people, I felt at home again like I do on stage. I got to meet a good number of people (hey, when you have 150+ kids from other towns pop up, meeting and remembering twenty people is an accomplishment worth a load of brownie points) and we played volleyball. Of course, I owned. We finally got to watch the performances after hanging out and going to acting classes (for the sake of enjoyment) and I've got to say, five hours of watching seven plays (including doing our play) is exhausting... for the jaw. Comedies were dominating. I don't think the shows could've ended better without 'The Underpants'. It sounds ridiculous, but if you get the chance to watch it, you'll realize the there is more innuendo in there in about 35 minutes then there are in all the BZP Chatrooms on AIM in a week combined. It's my absolute favorite play, hands down. Days pass, nights disappear, and on Friday of the 13th day, good things happen. Or is it good? It might all come crashing down on me in the end, but it happens. You see, this entry has been a draft for quite a while, and with more and more girls asking who I liked, I needed something to explain. So I showed the girls the list above. All of the girls I've explained it to are on that list. With about five girls knowing about the Crush Rush, you'd think I've all but ruin my plans of getting a girlfriend. Nah. You see, though I may or may not love one of them right now, love is not bothering me too much at the moment. On Valentines Day, I was blasting my favorite love songs in my room as a went about my day. I had nooooo pressures, no sorrow, but no complete happiness. You know you can enjoy Valentines Day alone if you have ever truly loved someone with all your devotion. ~AA
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Former. President. George. Bush. Four words I've been waiting for my whole life: First. African. American. President. ~AA
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Whoa. What a ride. Let's start with my birthday. December 19th, 2008- I overslept on an early release. A Friday of all days. 11 AM the school got out, and of course, that's the time I woke up. The day was spent. I stayed online, receiving more 'happy birthday' messages then I ever had (and thank you) but with the snow storm that went along roaring throughout the day, any plan I had was immediately canceled. Including seeing my dad. My mom was pushing me the entire week beforehand, stressing the point more each day. I didn't want to see my dad. Not at all. My sister scoffed at me and accused me still being angry at him. The anger him left quite a while ago. My only problem... I said a lot of bad things the last time I saw him, and I felt guilty... My mom kept proposing me to go out to dinner with him to the point where she made it a command that I go out to dinner with him on my birthday. He had the time. He wasn't working much at all considering that week he hurt his back muscle again, a muscle he "pulled" (likely much worse considering it came back to haunt him last year) when he was 17, working on bringing in delivery boxes back in Brazil. But with a freshly hurt back and the storm ripping New England apart, the dinner was backed down. Still not sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. Best part about it, he had my birthday present my mom was getting me. With my mom's finical struggle with her going on this new diet she got from a professional fitness instructor, money went down the tube.The annoyance of it all, including being in an apartment with a mother and sister willing to force me into this, left me in a sour mood. I was being smart (in a negative way). I talked back at the quickest whim once my sister spoke and I became easily frustrated with them as they discussed my lost money of my first paycheck from KB Toys (which many of you probably know, is going to burn in #### with it's bankruptcy) because payroll forgot to pay me a week and a half's pay. I spent the night on BZPower, trying to enjoy myself, but also completely aware I was turning into a completely arrogant person. I was angry at myself, yet people around me were celebrating my birth into this world. Every moment was bittersweet, for every good thing, there was a bad. I hate my birthday. December 20th, 2008- Snow. BZPower. A couple belated birthdays. Frustrated. There's this girl in drama company... Rachael. Yeah, you know half the story. Problem is, this girl isn't nice... At all. She comes off as rude, but is really a nice person at heart. I talk to her about my troubles from time to time, and she's there to comfort me, even make me laugh. Even better, she's beautiful. Very attractive, and I love watching her have fun with her friends, spontanously singing a broadway song with them, considering she hasn't listened to a thing on the radio since Lord knows when. She's made enemies, made friends, and I got to admit, first time I met her, we didn't exactly kick it off as amigos. I guess meeting new people isn't really her thing, but hey. It wasn't until I talked to her on AIM did we start becoming friends, and we teased each other with insults (her nickname: cut-throat [witch]) but it's all in the name of fun. My problems on Saturday was really because I was coping with my feelings for her. Did I like her? If I did, what was I gonna do about them? What attracted me to her, when she had such a negative atmosphere? What killed me was the thought of not having her. I knew what she wanted in a guy, obviously (she told me ). A musician with an english accent, or to sum it up: Jim Sturgess. Of course, I know there's no way I can become our handsome actor from Across The Universe, so it itched me intently. No, I won't bother asking her out, I know the answer. Screw your confidence speeches, it's useless. December 21th, 2008- The first day of winter, and the first thing that happens is we get slapped with another snowstorm. What else could one do but stay home and wonder if there would be a snowday? Cabin Fever was spreading broadly. Snowed in, with enough money to buy Christmas presents, but no way out of the vile prison of your... home. December 22nd, 2008- This day was nothing but work, but in a different fashion. The Drama Company was holding a Secret Snowman Party (Snowman 'cause of that whole Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday thing, the fatty in the red suit was given DA BOOT) after school. The party was happy. No music, table o' brownies (with no bloody milk or Pepsi D=<), and the usual circles of talk people form subconsciously. I, using my new cellphone, called my mom and asked her to bring the gift I accidentally left home that morning. After missing 30 minutes of the party waiting for the present to get dropped off, I continued to play the lie to Sarah, the name I drew for the Secret Snowman party. Weeks before, a couple days after the raffle, I lied to Sarah (practicing my acting talent ) telling her I knew her secret snowman and the person didn't know what to get her (... 'cause I really didn't know ). I dropped hints in my speech as to who it was: a person who didn't exist but had a gender. By simply referring the fake person as "her" you could tell that Sarah had her suspicions as to who it could be. Immediately she told me: "Chocolate. I don't care how much, I just want chocolate." Done deal. I didn't have to so much spend money (that I didn't have) to get it. My mom had a Secret Santa party and all those that attended without participating in the game got a bag of chocolate. I took my share, and I grabbed my sister's (she didn't want any, somehow she refused the delicious morsels). They’re called Truffles, and they have a milk chocolate shell and a liquid milk chocolate filling and it's probably the best freakin' chocolate treat you'll ever afford, best of all you know it at sight. Back to the party - Sarah whined to me about how she didn't get her present unlike everyone else while I waited at the entrance door for my mom. She was the really only one at the party who didn't get a gift so far, and she spoke in that "But mommmmmm, everyone has one but meeee!" voice. I told her that "she" was running back to her house to grab the present, and if she wanted the surprise as to who it is ruined, she'd have to go back to the party. She left pouting at me, and another eight minutes past until my mom finally came with the two bags of the Truffles in a giftbag. My mom also handed me my 200 dollars from my paycheck (shopping details later), and I was off on my merry freakin' way. I came up to Sarah in one of the chat circles and handed her the giftbag with a sly, "Merry Christmas," and a grin that wrote, "I played you like a sucka foo'." Her jaw dropped in the realization that I've lied to her for weeks when I turned out to be her Secret Snowman the entire time. She shoved me and called me a a#####e multiple times. When she finished her love/hate quarrel with me and opened the giftbag, she hugged me tightly in happiness. Gotta love Sarah's gullibility and mood swings. She really should've seen it coming. I steal her things all the time and play it off like I haven't easily. I really don't need acting classes when dealing with this chica. Two hours later (5 PM), after a struggle of getting to the Natick Collection to buy Christmas gifts, from hitching a ride to cutting across parking lots of holiday shoppers ###### off that that the spot they thought they saw was taken to walking passed the white street line because the sidewalk was covered in snow, to finally step through the entrance into JCPenny's, I was there. It wasn't after another three hours from hanging out with friends did I start finish. The second half of three hour period I was with Vanessa. Her present was the first one bought before she arrived. A Twilight shirt, with Edward Cullen on the front. We caught up with her friend Danielle whom I had the pleasure to meet. Nice girl, unfortunately struggling with her feelings with her ex. After the three of us sat down and they talked about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT HOW HOT THE GUYS IN TWILIGHT ARE, I reluctantly left them, knowing I needed to go Christmas shopping and that the topic wasn't going to change... for as long as they had tongues, voice boxes, and hands (because I know they'd do it in sign language if need be). I was surprised I beared with them so long, wanting the imaginary trigger I shaped with my hand to have a gun around it as to spatter the holy heck out of my brains. When hanging out turns into girls' night out, you gotta let go. Off I went, to blissfully shop... ...Til I actually dropped. By the time I was done, I had a Santa hat on and a jumbo sized bag carrying other bags carrying gifts from different stores. From the 50-70% off Aeropostale sale to KB Toys 40% everything to CVS's... well, they had snacks, which is good enough for the friends you don't know what to get. I grabbed some last-minute pizza from my friends at Sbarro for dinner and drink some Caffeine-free Diet Pepsi, and happily had a second one waiting for me (thank you annoying 'Buy 1 Get One Free' caps). I sat in the food court, with all the restaurants around me closing and I finished my slice, and my Pepsi. A cute girl caught my eye as she walked up to Salad Creations to see if they were still selling their juice bottles. I didn't hear the conversation, but you know the outcome at her discouragement. Once she came close to earshot, I called her over, asked her if she wanted a drink, she said yes. I asked if she liked a Caffeine free Diet Pepsi, and she said yes again. I took out the second bottle, glad it was still cold, and handed it to her with a grin saying 'Happy Holidays." She thanked me and was off. Thirty seconds later, I facepalmed myself. I just gave away a Pepsi to a girl and didn't even get a name or number. And worse? I GAVE AWAY A PEPSI. My memory's lagging as to what she looked liked, but she must've been cute for me to do something like THAT. After 20 minutes of trying to grab a second jumbo bag from my work and failed to do so, I sat on a lounge chair they usually set up randomly in convient parts of the mall, and called my mom who was at TJ Maxx, buying gifts, busting out of there once she's done shopping. I was exhausted. Carrying around 60 pounds, 40 of which have been on your back for six hours (my backpack) walking the length of miles looking for more stuff to buy was a guarantee that I cannot join the Marines. I placed my elbows on my lap to support the rest of my frame, and hung my head, paying attention to my cell. And I fell asleep. I wake up. It's 20 minutes after my last talk with my mom. 10:43 PM and 3 missed calls. A face palm was the first reaction, and I grabbed the phone and called her back. I was somewhat humbled by myself. I actually left my cell on the floor a couple inches from my left foot, and my jumbo sized bag to my right, my backpack behind me (really nothing important in there, but really it was the most secure considering it was actually touching me). I get up, grab my things, and BOUNCE. I get home, and the tiny nap has fueled me to last about another hour. I find out on AIM that Danielle, the partner in crime to how hot freakin' Robert Pattinson is with Vanessa, thought I was cute and Vanessa figured since I was single and she was lonely, we could hook up. And 'hook up' in the sense of I take her out on a date, we make up, the next day we are nothing. It's quite the lols thinking of it in that sense, but in quick thought, I accepted. My dating experience needs to be freshened up, and might as well throw in some practice dates. I accepted, but then I realized I was about to go out with a cute blond girl with a mind who's about to graduate high school... That's like, 10 plus self-esteem points. My extreme worry of the night was coming home and seeing my dad there waiting, and my sister warned me of the possibility. Thank the Lord that didn't happen. December 23rd, 2008- I came into the school, my load smaller. The biggest CVS bag I had was more than enough to carry around a pair of electronic drum sticks for my friend Sean (who is like the Necro in my world in a musical sense), two pringles for Alberto and DeJean(<- WHO DIDN'T SHOW UP), packs o' gum to any girl I noticed chewed a lot of it in class. Made for a fun day, really. A Tuesday, but the last day until vacation. Nothing like a Twiday. I come home, my mom having set an ultimatum for tomorrow. Because my dad hurt his back again and couldn't lift anything heavy, I was going to work with him and be the muscles. December 24th, 2008- I woke up early. 7 AM. Got dressed in a pair of jeans I never wore anymore, a Phat Farm shirt I again, never wore anymore, and a light 2008 Olympics fleece with a raincoat over it. Yippee. Working with mi padre... I waited downstairs for his van to arrive to pick me up. After four minutes, it pulled up to the lobby entrance. I got up and went through the doors. He got out, two giftbags at hand, and greeted me, to which I greeted back. Then we hugged. He told me to bring the bags upstairs to the apartment, and I went ahead and did so. Once up there, my mom handed me the blue bag and said (finally), "Happy Birthday!" I got a Wii. I'd probably be more excited if I wasn't sure exactly what would happen at work. It was like a regular day at work, minus some talk about his new family. Seriously. It was relaxing and surreal at the same time. After work at around 3 PM, we headed over to eat lunch with my sister (it being Christmas Eve). It was nice. Then we said bye. I gave a quick apology for the that thing in August and he said it was okay. And my sister and I went off to the mall. We picked up my final pay ($457 bucks = 304 20oz. bottles of Pepsi and one can) from KB Toys as it was going through the very last day. I learned so much about retail in just a few weeks, and I made some friends I hope I never forget. Joe, the rocker, always with a story to tell and they're all funny. Melissa, the under-aged would-be manager who's as mature as she is cool. Pace, great girl who carries a posistive attuitude with herself, and one of the coolest to work with. Heather, sister of my co-worker Kayla who I know in the tech crew of Drama Company and she knows when to be cheerful and when to be serious and will always be a great manager. Scott, the man who taught me most of everything I needed to know and beared with my inexperience until he found another job at another place, and I've heard he enjoys it. Tim, an overworked man in his twenties who seems to always have something to be stressed about but in his swearing tyraids will make you laugh, but somehow always has confidence in his work (we also called him 'Monkey Man' because in the back, when there was a ton of boxes, he'd always find a way to get to the top about twenty feet up). I wish them all luck in their future endeavors and hope they all find ways to pay those bills. My sister and I bounced over to Sears, the only store still open after 6 PM and scrambled for gifts. Unfortunately came out with only one for my mom: a digital camera. Get back home, kick it into overdrive with the cleaning, Thiago's family at 9 PM to show up. Really, this Christmas dinner thing was just... uncelebratory. We ate our dinner, Thiago and I bounced back to my room to watch some Jeff Dunham - Spark of Insanity and just hung out joking around and whatnot. Once it was 1 AM... Oh wait, that means it's... December 25th, 2008- ...Christmas day. He and I were watching random movies as they passed through the screen as his brother and sister-in-law controlled the viewing. Not like we cared really. There was nothing to do aside from tell jokes as if I were a comedian, because really no matter what comes out of my mouth, Thiago's gonna laugh (and he knows it). We played a couple games, opened our gifts together, then his family was off on their way home at around 3 AM. My sister, mom, and I sat on the floor at the Christmas tree and started our new tradition. Present opening and taking turns. Now, the infamous list: -8GB Zune mp3 player (blue) from sis -Digital Camera from dad (b-day gift and Christmas) -My first actual pair of pajamas from mom -Cross necklace from sis -Gold (very latino) bracelet from mom -L.L. Bean Fleece sweatshirt from dad's boss (sends L.L. Bean every year) -Pepsi-Cola Vintage Logo T-Shirt from sis () -Noise-canceling headphones from mom (I need a Triple A battery for this... hmm...) -FOSSIL watch from mom (not my style and she knows it, so we're returning it back to TJ Maxx and going to the FOSSIL store in the Natick Collection for me to pick one out, but the thought-that-counted thing worked very well) After that whole thing was done, we hit the sack at... 5:45 AM? Yeah. All-Nighters on Christmas are awesome. The next day, at around 1 PM, I was woken up in a rush, and told to get ready to go to the airport. My sister was headed to Brazil today to go see her... ex. I won't go into details, because it's too much and judging from the wall of text above this (if you read this far) and considering it's not really important aside from what I told you, forget about it. She just won't be back in the States until January 20somethingth. Head to the airport, jam out to my new Zune I've named YoYo, say our goodbyes, and head back home... To do nothing. Didn't even try out the Wii. I sat here typing the above wall-of-text. I get an IM from Danielle, if you recall was my date for Saturday, telling me she had to cancel because she already made plans with another friend and was just reminded of it that day. SUPPOSEDLY. Vanessa IMs me and basically tells me the "heartbreaking" truth. Danielle thought I was too young for her, which didn't really bother me for some reason. Apparently I look too young? Well, not gonna lie, she looks older. I thought she was 18 or maybe even 19, but looking at bookface right now, she was born in April of '91. She's eight months older. Guess she likes older guys. Ah well, better luck with another girl that thinks I'm dazzlingly handsome and a bone-ified sexy beast. What was good about Danielle entering then exiting my life so quickly is that it got me to get over Rachael as I thought about our date. Rachael's now a friend to me, nothing else, and I'm happy. Of course, I'm alone, but at least I'm not infatuated with a girl I won't get. So thank you Danielle, you actually inadvertently gave me peace. Single and loving it? Not quite. Single and looking for the right person. We can call it that. So with the date canceled and a saved-up 136 bucks that WAS going to the date. Tom calls: "Hey Jon, wanna hang out?" "Sure, what the heck." Heh. That killed 2 hours. December 26th, 2008 After work with dad, I come home. At some unknown hour of the night, we try setting up the Wii. :angry: I asked Teeburrito for help, but alas, no luck. Once we get to 'Select A Language', we can't find the cursor. We fling around the wiimote and see it fly by, but no luck. I stand 3 feet away, nothing. I stand 7 feet away, still nothing. I gave up in my impatience for this task and come back to BZP. December 27th, 2008- Finished writing this entry. ~AA
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Anyone else notice the Relient K and My Chemical Romance are exact opposites? There's this girl I see often. Cute redhead, her name is Kat. She quite gorgeous, and was in my health class last year. I never talked to her for two reasons. At the time, I was in a relationship with Bionigirl, and the second was that she had her boyfriend Jack at her side 99 percent of the time, so I didn't bother so much as talking to her. Though I thought of her from time to time, wracked with worry as to what made her leave class crying in tears and Jack with a solemn expression. They didn't seem to break up, still sitting next to each other in health class. It was strange. This semester of school, I saw Jack at her side once, and that was the very beginning of school. I haven't seen them together since. I don't know if she's going out with anyone currently, considering it's become a thing where we simply say hi to each other in the hallways. I have no classes with her, and only cross paths with her once every other day. Nearly every boy around me talks about nothing except girls and hooking up with them simply because they're hot. I simply want nothing but a relationship with a girl I couldn't figure out. That's what attracts me to a girl, a girl I can't figure out. Quiet girls get me like that, smart girls get me like that, girls that actually bother giving their honest opinion after thought get me like that. Considering I never had an actual conversation with Kat, I don't know honestly truly know her, and to think the possibility of her having any personality I'm attracted to doesn't help my romantic side. Why can't I settle with loneliness? My lust is nothing but an annoyance- no, a curse. My romance? Well, it's a beaten path I don't want to go down. I still struggle with it, more than lust. I am a hopeless romantic, yes, but I never show it. I could only show a girl how romantic I'd be if I were in a relationship with them, but how do I show anyone at all otherwise (without looking like a fool)? Maybe I should learn to play the guitar, write songs, play once in a while. Written poetry is corny and unattractive, music is great. How many times have I heard a girl see my friend Sean with a guitar and talk about how it attractive it is? Not a bad idea. But at the same time, as much as I want a relationship, I want no feeling for a relationship. I've become a loner. People ask me what I am to put me into a category. I was asked at lunch by a girl walking up to me what I was. Clearly I was confused at first, but they explained that I wore preppy clothes but never socialize at lunch, I talk without any care of what others around me might think (the arrogant ######## ), but can still not come off like a horrible person, and I stay well kept (shaved face aside from common five o'clock shadow, washed hair, wear different clothing daily) and I read Twilight. I'm not a scrub apparently, but not a prep. I've lived in the ghetto, but I'm no G. Otherwise everyone sees me as just weird, but still can't categorize me. I must be aggravating. I guess the next time someone asks me what I am, I'll say Edward Cullen. Simply to come off as a smart###. ~AA
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I hate Novembers. Currently, I'm exhausted. Two and a half weeks ago, I started my job at KB Toys in the Natick Collection as a sales associate. I've learned a lot on the job, and I think I've finally become a decent employee (because I ain't fired yet ). It's a holiday store (AKA seasonal store) and will close down sometime in January. Last Tuesday, I auditioned for a part for the play "Bocón" for the Spring Festival. Spring Festival is quite a big deal, considering it's basically the Oscars for drama companies around the county. I play a major role as Luis (pronounced lu-weez), the father of the main character Miguel. Rehearsal starts Monday, so I'm gonna have to work hard on this (even if the play is four months away). Hopefully my job won't get in the way of rehearsal in the beginning, I want to make a good impression on our director, Donna. From what I hear, she's tough as nails on plays and ain't afraid to yell. My sleeping is being really sketchy in the past week. Sleeping in class is becoming all too common, and history class is a hostile place for nap-time because my two friends aren't afraid to fart in my face, pour some water in my hair, et cetera, as I drool on my desk. Health class on the other hand is not hostile, but I shouldn't be sleeping in there at all. >_< My poetry is taking off. I've made a few songs, a couple rhymes, and story ideas (or scenarios) in my head. My creative side is leaking once again, and I'm creating alter-egos of myself where I could be infatuated with a blue-eyed beauty or some other thing. After working 15 hours in the past 36, I'm pooped. I've down two Pepsi's, a plate of thanksgiving leftovers, and an apple, and I'm still hungry when I shouldn't be. Consider the 15 hours being of standing up, climbing ladders, reaching high shelves, greeting people and handing out flyers of KB Toys's "BIGGEST SALE EVA" and faking a smile, plus being humiliated by many friends of mine. Oh yeah, a toy store has benefits, like 30 percent off anything you buy... but I'm sixteen years old and haven't gotten my first bloody paycheck, I ain't buyin' no dang toy. If I get asked if we carry Bakugan again, I'm shoving a Barbie down a customers throat and running myself over with twenty six RC cars. Truly, I want my first paycheck so I can get a Zune 120 GB mp3 player. No, I don't want no iPhone, iTouch, nothing of Apple. I hate iTunes, hate Windows Media Player (it isn't technical enough), and I <3 Zune Software. Sigh... ###### it all... It just midnight, and the lights are still on, I can't get myself to rest, I feel wore out, I'm covered in doubt, and I just want someone to hold... Oh Lord, can help me find, Someone to hold, give me a sign, a girl to love who'll truly be mine, who'll let our love live, 'til to the end of time I see all around me, A hundred girls like me, But none of them are ever all true... I pray every day, Someone'll come my way, and I'll never again have these words to say... Oh Lord, can help me find, Someone to hold, give me a sign, a girl to love who'll truly be mine, who'll let our love live, 'til to the end of time Gotta keep keep looking, Try to find, The love of my life, Can't give up... Oh Lord, can help me find, Someone to hold, give me a sign, a girl to love who'll truly be mine, who'll let our love live, 'til to the end of time Oh Lord, can help me find, Someone to hold, give me a sign, a girl to love who'll truly be mine, who'll let our love live, 'til to the end of time Oh Lord, can help me find, Someone to hold, give me a sign, a girl to love who'll truly be mine, who'll let our love live, 'til to the end of time ~AA
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I know the brothers. The 16-year-old and I sit at lunch together. Heck I sat with him yesterday eating his nachos. We get into deep thought conversations about nearly everything. The victim I talked to occasionally on the late-bus rides home. I was in the building when it happened, but not at the scene of the crime. Maybe it would've went down differently, heck I myself could've been arrested or something fighting with the stabber. I knew I would be able to get the 16-year-old to his senses, but no, had to get a detention on the other side of the school... Looks to be a lonely lunch tomorrow... my teachers better leave me the heck alone. Of all weeks... ~AA
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Last Thursday, my US History class took a field trip to Boston, to see the many locations of the historic city. Two classes went, my class and another. Keep in mind I stayed back a year, and that before I used to look at these sophomores as the annoying freshmen who haven't hit full maturity, or three quarters. They're getting there, but most are get too annoying to handle. Of course, I wasn't the oldest among the group, simply one of the people really wishing he had a wad of cash on him. Boston has markets around every corner. The history teacher running it (my teacher), Mr. Martell, had to press the cross-walk button every time we reached the end of a block. We must've passed about six SevenEleven's, and I was getting depressed with the loneliness mentioned beforehand. A Pepsi would've been great, had I had the cash for it. Though really no one went inside the stores surprisingly. Though there was one that itched in the back of my mind. Nick. A freshman (sophomore now), who's got plenty of cash and unfortunately no real good looks, no good sense of flirting, no good aim for the right girls, and his voice is in kiddy-mode so he 'sounds gay' when he's actually straight(which he is constantly had been made fun of in our class until I demanded through some physical means par say to the two guys to quit making the offensive artwork). He's a nice guy, reminds me of Tom, only more dumb, no common sense, and REALLY REALLY annoying. Throughout the trip, he was practicing some of his Portuguese. One of the brazilian girls in our class taught him how to speak a few words and phrases, but gave him all the wrong definitions as to what he was saying. ... So the entire time he's swearing in Portuguese, and constantly I have to tell him to shut up. Then he'd actually say something in Portuguese he understood, which isn't the kind of phrase you'd wouldn't say around your mom (if she knew Portuguese). So at around 9 AM as we were in the Massachusetts State House, he went on while we were in the House of Representatives, and I turned to him, said something I can't recall what, and I shut him up. Victory... But after five seconds of the beautiful silence, he said, "Yeah, well, at least people like me. Vanessa hates you, she thinks you're a creeper and a sketch, and everyone in drama company agrees. Actually, most of the people in drama company hate you." So I play it off like I could give a dang less about drama company, and left him defeated. Though I took a heck of a hit. I love the people in drama company, and I love Vanessa, so my mind soon processed that I didn't have friends. For one, Vanessa always called me a creeper but I proved her wrong and then we'd laugh about it, but I was convinced that she was talking behind my back and sincerely meant it. My loneliness broaden, and I truly felt like nothing. Oh! Now I remember! I didn't say anything to Nick, I backhanded him lightly, tiny tap. Today, Nick asked me if I was going to the drama company meeting today after school. I wasn't planning to take a late bus home, so I told him no and added extra flavor to it saying, "...And besides, why bother? Vanessa and the rest of drama company hates me anywa-" "Oh, I was just kidding. I was just angry." "Because you couldn't come back with anything else?" "Yeah." "Oh, okay." I laughed inside. All that trouble, for nearly nothing. Well, I got to open up to two girls, who I now consider my trusted friends. I showed them the blog entry after I felt better because they were on the little notes I left there. Now, I guess, I don't feel lonely... So wait. What was the moral of the story? ~AA
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For a time I felt secure. I had friends I could laugh with, friends I could trust, knees that wouldn't hurt, Pepsi that wouldn't be out of reach (<-dang good time), and I had a home in an apartment building and not homeless like we were in danger of being fourteen months back. It was another chapter in my life, the time where Jon's life seemed happy. Unfortunately, whenever the next chapter began, after conquering the endeavors of the previous chapters, he would be back in another trial of life. The peace and happiness he had left, now he is more loose in anger and sorrow. He hates sorrow, hated how misery became his posse. He enjoys superkicking misery time and time again, but misery carried an iron jaw. Stubborn friend. (back to first person) The rain is around, the clouds discourage. It's psychological really; dark and gloomy weather brings depression in forecast while the sun is bright and shining, and the light brings happiness and smiles on faces. Though I am conscious of this fact, my heart is still aching. Hey Wrinkled Lion, what's up? Thought I'd catch you off guard in my blog, knowing you don't like my dreadful entries of depression and how I complain and yada yada yada. I'd send you some offensive sign language considering I'm in that mood, but Omi's always on me about my blog (and I don't blame him. It's his job) and I guess it wouldn't be the most mature thing to do. It'd be the humane thing to do. You've heard the sentence maybe a hundred times: "I have no friends." Now you usually hear the discouraged person speak that, and it's truly a lie, an accidental lie. What they probably mean is that they have friends to laugh with, but none to cry with. Now I know you guys out there tell me I have to I could talk to, but come on. You're hundreds of miles away, and the closest one of you all is Mojjy who lives in western Mass, and the only reason I'd go there would be for Six Flags. I don't really have anyone I can have fun with and talk to anytime I want at the moment, and I feel quite lonely. I don't have anyone but my Spanish teacher to vent to, and was one time two weeks ago... and it's my bloody Spanish teacher. I love my family. Love my mom, love my sister. Though sometimes I just don't like my sister, and my mom is too overprotective of me and doesn't trust the fact that I'm a straightedge. I'm sixteen, after going this long without a cigarette or a drop of alcohol, I deserve a freakin' merit badge with the crud I have to deal with everyday. I can't hang out with people cause I don't smoke, and I don't plan on buying Glen a pack of a cigarettes at Store 24 because I look like I can pass as 18 with my 5 o'clock shadow, I don't want to party with the cute girls and drink until my liver is tired and my brain demands I vomit, I don't want to change the way I look to fit into one crowd (because if you wear American Eagle or Hollister, you're a tool and deserve to die! [/sarcasm]), I don't want to listen to one kind of music, I don't want to shave my head bald and hate others, I don't want to fight people I don't know, I don't want to tell people who to be, and I sure as heck don't want anyone talking smack about me. I'm just lonely, dang it. There was this one person, but I'm not even sure if she's even alive. I'm tempted to add another dove to the first content block. After watching Madagascar 2 with my mom and sis, on the way home as my sister went on to my mom about the mechanic at the Toyota Dealership who is apparently stupid and can't fix the noise she keeps hearing, I found myself doing something. I was thinking about what I would write to each individual I know. Suicide letters. Suicide. It sounds so bad. It is, really. Some people think it's a horrid thing, some a disgraceful thing, others- not a thought in the world about it. Me? I don't know. It's something I've thought of a lot in my life. I've tried writing my own goodbye letter but my hand was shaking wildly and I quit on it and torn up the letter, thinking of my mom and how much she'd die inside. I hate the mere thought, but I want to tell everyone everything I've thought about them. I want to tell this one girl, though she already knows it, that I love her blue eyes and how they stand out from her black hair, that I could stare into them for as long as I could, if I could. I want to tell her boyfriend that he's lucky to have such a pretty girl as his own. I want to tell another girl that I'm sorry we couldn't be friends and that she's just too mean around people she doesn't know to even so much give them a chance. I want to tell another girl (TOO MANY GIRLS) that I enjoyed the time we were together as friends but the smack she talks isn't justified and that she has to less affected by the amount of crud around her or she'll burst into emotional flames. I want to tell another friend that life can be fair, so long as you stay fair and people will treat you nice if you treat them nice. I want to tell this one girl I liked her for her brains, and her looks didn't matter. I want to tell another girl that she isn't the witch she thinks she is, just amazingly honest to the point (no matter how sharp that point is). I want to tell this one teacher his method sucks, but it's what makes him so freakin' cool. I want to tell another kid that smoking will kill him, not a bullet or knife, because those things haven't come yet. I want to tell you love birds out there how to get a girl, but you're relying on inexperience of the people that you think knows what they're doing instead, but I understand why you'd do that (and it makes me chuckle sometimes at the sad fact, and I just chuckled right now). I want to tell another guy to stop thinking overtly about himself and look at other people's problems, and turning on the TV to watch the news isn't a bad idea either, you moron. I want to tell this girl that I like her a lot because she's smart and pretty, but I don't love her, because she's meant for someone more honest and open. I want to tell another girl that she's so smart and pretty, and I hope she finds the English rockstar stud she's hoping to find. I want to tell another girl that I wish I could hold her and tell her I'll be fine and I'll never forget her, and- I need a Pepsi, badly. I need something. Unfortunately, I won't selfishly kill myself. I fear my spiritual beliefs got me in the end, because thinking of others and the result of my death didn't work. Thank the Lord (literally). Well, another day will come. The sun will rise, the sun will set, and I'll be alive, I bet. Please, don't comment with stuff saying I can cry on your shoulder via PM or IM. I need someone I can physically be with and hug tight. Should I buy a teddy bear? I dunno. Peace out, and by 'peace out', I mean the end of this entry, not my life. ~AA
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Don't worry guys, I'm back and I'm staying. Thank Da Mista Mike for the lifetime. I owe him a lot for the 35 bucks, so that's why when I meet him I'm buyin' him lunch. How long has it been? Two months today? It's been a while. A long, painful while. A few weeks after I lost my last premier membership, I found out something that brought me down like the twin towers. I remember that sad night weeks ago... I just got back home from hanging out with my sister who through her deception and manipulation got me to go to the salon with her because she hates going anywhere (except work) alone. The salon was downtown, so everything was basically right next to each other. Outside the window I saw a band getting ready to perform in the auditorium across the street, and when I saw them go inside the pizza place next door, I decided to meet them. They are called 'Red Car Wire' and once coming back home and going to their website, I was frustrated because they were great and I could've befriended Davey, the lead vocals, and maybe have gotten in for free (hey, I'm broke, what can I say?). I came back home and after my sister leaves for church (it's a Saturday, though Saturday church? I don't understand that concept, but ah well) so I stay home talking to Taki and hanging out on BZP. My friend's call and they were goofing around at one of their houses and got the crazy idea of me singing to them on the phone. Me, being me, went ahead to sing what songs I could remember. Yes, I did rickroll them. I have a deep voice, so I thought I could sing it well. An hour or two later, I could tell Taki was hiding something from me. He confessed. Bionigirl made him promise to keep it a secret for as long as he could. She has cancer, and it's terminal. The treatments have failed. I was shook to the very bone, my heart sunk to Davy Jones' Locker. I tried to snap out of my grief, but I couldn't. I sang to myself in tears streaming down my face, Cancer by My Chemical Romance. I came into school Monday dressed in my darkest clothing, my pair of sunglasses on me to make my eyes hurt less in the light. What really hurt was the continuing question: Was she dead or alive? I joined Drama Company. They take offense to calling it 'Drama Club' for some reason. It took a while to fix my tongue to calling it a company. I performed as a scary Hun in the children's play, Mulan. I made many friends, mostly girls, but simply friends. Unfortunately, at the end of September, I found myself in a Love Triangle. The props director, Vanessa, is a great girl. A bit melodramatic, but I soon found myself shadowing her life in some way. Vanessa's first boyfriend back in freshman year started off as a good relationship. Her boyfriend, RJ, seemed like a nice guy. Turned out he was an abusive ####. Vanessa was caught victim to him, her heart not knowing what to do during each fight they had. She calls herself stupid for going back to him each time she apologized. This went on for two years, then RJ got cancer. I call that the Karma Slap. Unfortunately, of course there was still some bearing love for RJ (and this news was given AFTER the official break-up), she was hurt too. A year later, my story happened, and she was first person I turned to. There came another girl in my picture, and that was Aline (A-lean-knee). Short, adorably cute, fun girl who loved my hugs. She called me her teddy bear. Heh. I could always have fun talking to Aline. She had no tragic past I knew, so she never knew about the whole Bionigirl thing because it was at such a personal level, I allowed only a select few know. During our five-day weekend, Aline asked me out, which I decided to say yes to for my healing process; get Karley off my mind. Turned out Vanessa had a thing for me and got angry at Aline, who I forgot to mention, was her best friend. You see, RJ, back in the day, liked to control Vanessa through jealousy. During one of their short break-ups, RJ went out with Aline (who didn't know about RJ's abuse), and when I accepted Aline, Vanessa was having deja vu. Somehow it was all cleared away and the whole thing ended by Columbus Day. I basically confessed to Vanessa (who I personally call VV) that I liked her more, Aline and I never went out, and we were all back on the friendship trail. But something was missing out of the both of them. I could never confess a sad, personal matter to Aline for I don't know what reason. I could never hug Vanessa for as long as I wanted, but with Aline, it can be for as long as we wanted to embrace. The Mulan plays went great. I scared the crud out of little kids in the crowd and I had to literally roar three times in order for my monster of a character to look savage. I also had the pleasure as to picking up the Emperor of China onto my shoulders in a fireman's carry during our seize of the palace. It was pure fun. Acting, to me, never made me smile more inside. Theater was great. After both plays we had dinner parties at (after opening night)UNO's and (after second play, in the afternoon) T.G.I. Friday's. Lots of fun. Sure to stay in my memory, I hope. For some reason, after almost being rid of the pain of unknown status of Bionigirl, I felt dreadfully horrible. I haven't gone to church in well over three months, and every time I watched Joel Osteen on TV I felt better. It was strange, or was it? I just know that after last Wednesday, I know where to go tomorrow. Michael W. Smith and Steve Curtis Chapman are on their United Tour. After spending two hours in the auditorium, my mind was flying. The thought of her wouldn't escape me. I tried almost everything. I vented to my best trusted friends, I flirted with girls I had any interest in, I looked for jobs, anything I was willing to do to keep her out of my head. There was one last thing I didn't try. Worthy Is The Lamb was being sung. And I prayed. Today, I feel good. I'm happy. I'm energetic. I'm at peace. I've got my blog for keeps, I have my friends, I have my music, and best of all, I have my Pepsi- nevermind. Just finished the can. The story continues, guys. ~AA
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EDIT: Dang it! Accidentally clicked the 'Draft' button! Clothes... almost picked out. Gum... check. Backpack... never on the first day, that's just stupid. Zune 8GB mp3 player... check. Flirt... check (as always) Pepsi... Why is the Pepsi always gone? Sneakers, old ones I've had for two years... check. Pencils... check. Pen because there is always one teacher with bad eyes who can't handle the truthpencil writing... check. Sleep... ha. Money... check. (maybe I'll go to that Subway nearby...) Amazing charm, good looks, and single status advantage... check. God... well, He was never gone to begin with, check. Vending Machine cash... check. Amigos... half-completed. Well, can't be 100% prepared for your second year of the 10th grade. Bonsoir, Good morning, and PEACE. ~AA
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Hope you have a great one. Sorry I didn't call you, mom wanted to see if we could have dinner together (her paying). I think she's getting around to forgiving you, 'cause she wants to stop calling you different names like 'the Jay Ay Arr Kay' and all. What are you, like 44 now? I dunno, you keep joking about how you've been 38 for an x amount of years. 39 in this case? I haven't a clue. Its been a month and a half since the whole... thing. Well, maybe Christmas I'll see you. Maybe never at all. Maybe until the day I stand over your body as it lays in the coffin, or you stand over mine. Whatever God plans out. It won't be a happy day; surely I'll be angry and bitter, but not for what you have done, but for the fact we couldn't spend the last years of our lives in good terms, as friends, as family, as a father and son. *sigh* I'd buy you a Pepsi with the 'buy one get one free' cap, but eh... we kinda... Don't talk. At all. Happy birthday dad. Hopefully you'll read this if I die first. Well, got that off my chest. *sigh* Feel better now. ~AA
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Labor Day... The first day of September, the first day rockin' the sexy orange, and Makaru's birthday. Funny, I made his b-day topic in CoT and Kex yelled at me. I was literally loling. Right now, as I was looking to see if the Natick Collection was open (the Natick Collection is the Mall of America of Massachusetts, basically), which it is, I found out that the Lego Store is hiring for Sales Associates. The Collection is a bit of a walk from school, and with the fall and winter rolling around, it'll be harder to walk, but I'm looking forward to the cold surprisingly. I think it'll bring back my poetic spirit, and maybe my writer's side as well. Right now I am indulging into my artistic side, and though I have a picture I'm proud of I want to show you... the scanner's broken, but writing needs no scanner on the internet! IF YOU SMELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.............................. WHAT THE ARK IS COOKIN'. Sorry. With all the good the today's brought so far, I feel great. And while I'm at the Collection, I'm going to have my first Dr. Pepper, but it's WaWa's favorite drink. Yep... maybe some lunch in Friendly's too. But Friendly's is my depressing location. I like to eat there only when depressed. Reason being is the on July 4th, day after I broke up with Bionigirl, I ate there just to please my mom. Couldn't stop staring at myself in the mirror just to curse at myself inside at how much of a fake I was being at the time. *sigh* Okay, come on Jonny Boy, no depression, not today. Today's a gift from God, appreciate it. I'd like some album suggestions, as I'm headed to the music store at the Collection. Be quick por favor. And guys, thanks for the congrats. ~AA
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It's been almost three weeks. And the marking of the fourth week is the day before his birthday... September 3rd. *Raises Pepsi One* Cheers. ~AA
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The below is Kory, better known as Ryuu ~AA
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Read this. UPDATE: Russia has retreated out of Georgia, saying, "The aggressor has been punished." Today, 8/13/08: Russia to U.S.: Choose us or Georgia Forum link removed - Nukora Any political comments will be deleted if it shall spark a flame war. (Wish they could be drafted. I <3 opinions) ~AA
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The last two hours were painful. Ever since last night when my sister told me all the things my dad says to people trying to defend himself, like he wasn't the bad guy in this divorce, I've been pent up in extreme anger. You know that, Lord. I tried calling Phil, but he was busy at an amusement park and was sore last night, so I didn't have a friend to talk to. I don't know why I didn't turn to You first. It started when after I got breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts, still reluctant to work with dad, I got inside his van with him waiting, and then he started talking about how I should be responsible about my work and waking up earlier because we can't get at the building at 10 AM, it'll take the job to do much longer than needed. I'm a man now and should be more responsible. That's where I snapped. I turned to him, with glaring eyes and told him he had no idea how angry I was at him. He's been telling people and my mom that she was the biggest mistake of his life. If that's the case, I'm a mistake. He never wanted me in the first place, I told him. He told me to give him my phone, and he used it to call my mom and he started yelling at her. At the same time, I was yelling at him. He nearly crashes the van turning around to get on the other lane to bring me back home. He tells me I don't know what he's been through, and I come back with just the same. He says I'm still a kid, and I tell him he just called me a man ten minutes ago. I scoff at his 'responsible' talk between. Through the yelling, he got fed up with me and dropped me off at the Mobil gas station, a little over a quarter mile to my apartment complex and I leave the van and he continues yelling on my, now his, phone. I shouted to him that my father died a year and a half ago, and I have lived without a father than one like him, then I shut the door. I continued crying as I went down the sidewalk, my apartment complex on the other side 1000 or so feet ahead of me. Mom picked me up at that moment, still on the phone with dad, who was still yelling. Under her sunglasses, you knew there were tears, and you could still tell with the way her voice was cracking to hold back the weeping. She explained over and over to him again why I was like this, saying I held in all these emotions for almost two years. After she finally got off the phone, she and I hugged and cried. I told her again and again that I was sorry. She told me last night that it wasn't important, that I shouldn't have thought about it, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand in his presence for more than fifteen minutes. She explained to me that dad loves me, and my sister, and her, then she corrected herself on the last part. She said to cool down and to pray to You, Lord. Thought I could get more out through typing than thinking, gets words out easier. Please, bring me peace. I hate having hate in my heart, especially since I know I love him and so desperately want to hate him. Why can't I forgive him like You have forgiven me? I thought I did. I thought I did many times, but the past is shown too many times in my face. This apartment, I live in this because of him. No social friends to hang with everyday, because I had to move. I'm staying back a grade because I transferred into the wrong classes thanks to a confused guidance counselor because I moved here. I have no peace when it comes to him. Lord, please... heal this wounded heart. Amen. ~AA