Let My Future Commence

Yes, I have officially graduated from high school.

I don't feel any different. Going through the ceremony didn't feel like anything particularly exciting. Maybe I am devoid of all emotions but I don't really feel anything at the moment. Walking through the Gateway (a tradition at my school, there is an actual gateway we walk through on our first day of school and then at graduation), I turned to my friend Molly and said, "We're graduated." It felt nice to speak the words and I certainly felt happy. But now that several hours have passed I've lulled back into my every day life. Right now it could be any old Wednesday night. Who knew that just seven hours ago I was getting ready to graduate in my white gown carrying my red roses.

Oh, well. It is what it is. I am now graduated. It is real.

I was nostalgic about two weeks ago. I will be excited in about two months. Right now I am just looking forward to a great summer. Right now I just want to enjoy being 18.

Starting tomorrow night. White Dance. Since the dance is not affiliated with the school it is generally known as Drunk Dance. We're graduated and we like to celebrate by insane drunkenness. But we also like to dress up. This year our theme is Pirates of 2009. We take our white graduation dress (which is butt ugly and yet cost $300 to buy from some fancy wedding gown shop) and decorate it. And I'm sure Captain Jack Sparrow will be proud of how much rum will be consumed.

I have graduated and now I am off to hang out with my brothers, read a book, and finalize plans for tomorrow night. Just a relaxing Wednesday night. Except now I am no longer a high school student. And there's no getting around the fact that in a few months everything will be different. So tonight and this summer I'm going to enjoy this feeling of freedom every moment that I can.


Reading: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
The marathon continues. Page 319
also
My Diploma - it sure is pretty

Listening: Ain't No Reason - Brett Dennen
After graduation (and a million pictures) my family and I went out to dinner downtown at a great restaurant called Woodbury Kitchen. As always the discussion turned to politics. This song says what I want to say about the world.

Whirlwind

1. I went to the Orioles' game today. And we won!

2. I did not blog on Saturday.

3. I have no idea what is going on in the world right now.

4. Graduation is two days away.

5. Why can't my life slow down for just a second?


My weekend flew by in a haze of cousins. Family members flooded into the house but I also spent much of my time hanging out with some of my best friends. I ate too many cupcakes. I played Pooh Sticks. And the light, ever present fog of high school drama still hung around my life. Yes, graduation is two days away and there is still drama. Boy drama, friend drama, drunken drama, Senior Week drama, even old drama. I've come to the conclusion that this drama that has defined my life for the past four years will never really go away. It will only ebb and flow, ever changing but ever present, and it will always pop up at the worst times.

Now, I'm off to read the New York Times because I really have absolutely what has been going on in the world. I half expect to read that the whole world has imploded except for Baltimore, Maryland.


Reading: The New York Times, and still on HP 3
I haven't had much time to read what with all the cousins and cupcakes and drama.

Listening: She's in Love from The Little Mermaid Broadway Soundtrack
It has been stuck in my head all weekend. Unfortunately, I can't tell if it's true in my life or not. It doesn't feel exactly what the song describes, my feelings are more of a head ache than anything else. Boys are stupid! But I might be falling for one anyway.

Congratulations! I'm Going To Go Kill Myself Now.

Nothing like a day spent doing manual labor in the sweltering heat. Sometimes I just love living on a farm.

This weekend is a solid block of graduation parties. Plus, my own is on Sunday, which means that I have family coming in from several states and I have to pretend to like everyone. I have to have the same conversation about a million times in one day:

Annoying Relative: Congratulations!

Me: [Force a smile because just the word "congratulations" pisses me off now that I've heard it twenty million times] Thanks!

Annoying Relative: How does it feel to be graduated? [Look! I am trying to sound interested in your life even though I barely know you.]

Me: Great! I can't believe I'm finally graduated! [I'm just going to use as many exclamation points as possible because maybe it will sound like it's the first time I am having this conversation.]

Annoying Relative: So where are you going to college?

Me: Syracuse University. I'm so excited! [Actually this is the tenth time in an hour I'm having this conversation, I am no longer excited. I want to kill myself.]

Annoying Relative: And what will you be studying? [Probably drinking by the looks of it. I thought she was supposed to be smart.]

Me: Journalism. Syracuse has a great program. [Seriously. Newhouse is one of the best undergraduate Journ schools in the country. I'm not stupid. Seriously.]

Awkward Pause.

Annoying Relative: [Trying to figure out how to end the conversation quickly and get more cake] That sounds great. I know you'll do well.


Might as well shoot me now.


Reading: HP 3
Listening:

An Engraved Pen

Today I won an award for writing (specifically the schools Excellence in Journalism Award). I was given a pen engraved with my name. It's pretty bad ass.

Ironically, I don't feel like writing today. Instead I am just going to sign off. This counts as a daily blog post.

Starving for Fashion

Imagine a girl. She is starving. Hasn't eaten a proper meal in months. She only survives by ignoring her painful hunger and focusing on distractions. But she's just so hungry. She can't deny it.

Now imagine this girl suddenly discovering free food spread out before her. Not just any free food, but all of her favorite foods, all in one place spread out specifically for her. The sign says it's free so the girl doesn't bother to read the fine print at the bottom. She just eats. She stuffs her face. And it all feels so good. It's delicious, the best food she's ever eaten. She eats all of that food down to the last blueberry. God, it tasted so good.

Then, after a few minutes of satisfaction, her stomach turns over. She hasn't been used to such rich food. She had been surviving on scraps, the scraps of scraps, next to nothing. All of the succulent food sits heavily in her stomach and the next thing she knows she is getting sick. She feels awful and only now does she read the fine print on the sign. It says that the food is free but if you eat it, you sell your soul to the devil.


OK, that girl is me. Except I wasn't starved from eating, I was starved from shopping. And the free food, all of the delicious free food, was Anthropologie.

I hadn't bought a new piece of clothing in months. I just didn't have the money. But today I cashed a check and had an excuse to go shopping. I needed a dress for Baccalaureate. Well, I bought a dress. It is beautiful. The perfect dress. Cute but not too fancy. I'll wear it again. It was a size 2, which I thought would be too small but if fit perfectly and it was the last one in the store.

But God I feel so sick now. I'm disgusted with myself. And I feel like I've sold out, sold my soul to American consumerism.

But it's just so pretty. Anthropologie, specifically their dresses, are my kryptonite.


Reading: the price tag of my new dress. $98.
I'm ashamed of myself. I can't afford to be buying $98 dresses. I wouldn't have even tried it on but I had vowed not to buy a dress over $100. Well, it's not over $100 but just barely.
Oh, and I'm also still reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Listening: Juno soundtrack

Isn't High School Funny?

High school is filled with shifting friendships. Alliances are made and ended quickly. It is easy to meet a new person, become infatuated, and spend weeks as best friends, inseparable. It is just as easy for a single event or lack thereof to cut friendships apart. In high school, as is typical with teenagers, these cuts are often jagged, ugly. And maybe it does happen all the time but it doesn't make that cut any less painful.

I've experienced the seemingly petty drama of a friendship between two teenage girls falling apart. In my case, it certainly didn't feel petty. It felt awful. To lose your best friend hurts. To end a friendship that had defined the first two years of high school is a painful but surprisingly easy feat.

Sometimes boys come in the way, sometimes other friendships, sometimes family or school. But in my case I never really knew. Not pinpointing the exact reason why Betty (fake name) and I stopped being best friends and became wistful memories and awkward silence was much worse than a good, solid, "You slept with my boyfriend."

Maybe twenty years down the line I will look back on this falling out and laugh at how unnecessarily dramatic high school makes life. But also, maybe just maybe, I will be able to call up Betty and laugh with her about it.

Graduation is a week away. That is why I wrote Betty a Senior Letter. I didn't expect my letter to make a difference but I wanted to graduate having said everything I had wanted to say. Betty and I had ended our friendship abruptly, without discussion. Everything had been left completely unsaid. So I said them in the letter. It's funny how you can say so many things in a letter and not face-to-face. But I've always been better at writing than speaking.

Then, yesterday I received a message of Facebook. It was from Betty.

Now, after all the drama so typical of high school but not any less painful, a week before graduation. Betty and I are speaking again. We have plans to hang out. We have plans to keep in touch when we go to college. One of the first things we said to each other was "I'm sorry! I've missed you." And just like that, funny how it's so easy, we're friends again. Just like nothing had ever happened.

Isn't life, isn't high school, funny?


Reading: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling
Still continuing in my Harry Potter summer reading marathon

Listening: Ghost - Laura Marling

Reading and Crying

Five minutes ago I was sitting alone on the Purple Couch (the famous Purple Couch that resides in our den and has survived the worst of the Pipitone Wars). I was reading and crying. I was reading The Book Thief.

I had heard great things about the book but hadn't read it, probably because it is a Young Adult novel. Although some of my very favorite books are classified as Young Adult, I generally have a slight bias against books in that genre (I don't really know if Young Adult can be a genre because it encompasses different genres, I think it's just a classification). Yes, I admit to being biased. I admit that I don't like to hang out in the Young Adult section of the book store. I think it's because of the Twilight assumptions that are made about a teenage girl browsing the Young Adult section. Also, although there are some amazing Young Adult novels (John Green, Sarah Dessen, not to mention the one I just finished, and many more), there are a lot of Young Adult novels that are more akin to Gossip Girl than to Tolstoy (Tolstoy being a writer of classic literature with depth a little more significant than high school drama). I'm a horrible person for this mostly unsubstantiated and unfair prejudice. But books like The Book Thief make me see the error of my ways.

A book like The Book Thief should not be classified at all. It should be required reading for all ages and reading groups (with the exception of young children who are a little to vulnerable and also not up to the reading level the book requires). Tomorrow I fully intend to give the book to my best friend to read. And I don't do that normally. My reading is personal. But this book needs to be shared.

This book made me cry. For the last fifty pages I was not quite sobbing but there was a steady stream of tears falling down my face. Now, I am no robot but I can say that I have never cried so fully because of a book. Tears might well up, my throat might become sore in anticipation of tears, but never have tears steadily streamed down my face. Except for this book.

It was a great book.


In other unrelated news, my computer is dead. It just stopped working. I am on my family's desktop right now. Luckily, next week my grandmother is buying me a MacBook for a graduation present. It's weird not being on my laptop all day. But the silver lining is that I am reading ten times more. It's amazing how taking away that instant access to a computer has changed my daily life. I read for six hours today. Normally I read for just one. I think I like this new way of life.



Reading: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Listening: Pomp and Circumstance (I can't remember the composer right now...He's British and he's mentioned in the novel Howard's End. It's going to bother me that I can't remember his name.)
Today we had 3 hours of graduation practice. Tomorrow another three hours. The day after that and the day after that, 3 hours each. Why do we need 12 hours of graduation practice? Because my school loves it's traditions and they have to be flawless. So we have to have 2 ceremonies and both are ridiculously intricate. 12 hours of Pomp and Circumstance.

How Did I Survive?

I can't really wrap my mind around the idea that I am finished with high school. Those awkward four years of social anxiety and drama are over.

I am not quite a graduate but I will be next week. Since I took a full schedule of AP classes this year, I took my exams over the past two weeks. Many of my classmates are taking exams for their non-AP classes this upcoming week but I am exempt. It feels great right now.

This week of relaxation, an extra week of summer, almost makes up for the ridiculous amount of stress I endured because of my AP classes. Almost.

Whoever said Senior year is the easiest year of high school was full of shit. It was by far my hardest year. I was taking all AP classes plus I was editor of my school paper, which was a LOT of work on top of everything else.

I honestly don't know how I survived this year. I mean just Journ was insane. [begin short rant] We only had ten girls on the staff. For every issue we had to write two articles each. Then, I had to edit all of those articles and many times that meant rewriting them because certain members of my staff couldn't even write coherent sentences. We didn't have page designers so we each had to put together our pages ourselves too. And on top of Editor-in-Chief, I was also Editorial Editor and was responsible for putting together the Editorial page and editing all of the other finished pages. Fuck. How did I pull that off? [end rant]

OK, that's enough of that. I normally don't like to complain too much here especially now that everything is over.

I wanted to talk about other things today but my brother just asked me if I wanted to go to Chilly Willy's, his treat. And I will never turn down a free snowball.

The Wind Upon Your Face

Be unencumbered of what troubles you
Arise with grace
And greatly go! the wind upon your face!
- Walt Whitman

This was the quote recited for us at Senior Farewell Liturgy. I don't want to ruin it by trying to explain.

Today was my last day of high school. We graduate in a week. I can't really put into words the feelings jumbled inside of me right now. But I'd like to pause for moment and reflect especially on my friends that have stayed by my side for the past four years.

After school, we retreated to my friend's house about half an hour out of town. 8 girls, together just as our lives are about to change. Emily's house sits on a hill overlooking beautiful Maryland countryside. We sat in the grass of her field together, in a circle, just talking as we have been doing together for the past four years. And I remember when I approached the group, walking towards them across the field, I could see them all illuminated by the setting sun. The sunlight, just before it descended below the hill, was a deep gold. Set against this last moment of sunlight I could see my friends waiting for me as I walked toward them. And I didn't feel sad or nostalgic. I just saw my friends, silhouetted against the sunset, and felt at home.

Soon we will be arising from our circle of friends and going off, the wind upon our faces. But for now we're together.


That was quite deep for a Friday night but I am allowed to be sentimental on the day high school ended.

Now I'm off to my best friend's house probably to do something I will lie to my parents about later. Because that's also part of this summer stretched out before me.


Reading: My senior yearbook and the letters from my classmates
I made it onto the cover of the yearbook, which is mortifying.

Listening: I Feel Home by O.A.R.
So cliched. So Towson. So perfect.

Where Does Time Go?

Tomorrow is my last day of high school. Ever.

The theme of today's blog is: Where the fuck does time go? Seriously, where does it go? After it passes, where does it go? Into nothingness? Because right now I'm feeling like I want to visit an earlier time, a time when I didn't have to say goodbye to all of my friends tomorrow.

Also keeping with this theme: Where did tonight go? How is is already 11 PM? I still have ten Senior Letters to write.

And even more on this theme: My best friend's older sister is getting married. What the fuck is that? I remember going over Jocie's house when we were little and Lauren was twelve years old. People aren't allowed to get married. People aren't allowed to grow up. Because if everyone else is growing up that means I am growing up, too.


Reading: Senior Letters as I write them. I don't have time to read anything tonight.

Listening: The sounds of my brothers playing video games in the other room.
I love this sound because it means my brothers are home and when my brothers are home it means my best friends are there for me.

The Return of the Brothers

My brothers are home.

Here is a conversation I had with my brother last night when I was watching Sex and the City:
Danny: Sex and the City is retarded.
Me: Don't say "retarded"
Danny: Why?"
Me: Because it's offensive to people with mental disabilities to use the term "retarded" as synonymous with "bad."
Danny: That's gay.
Me: *facepalm*

Then, Johnny came home for a few hours before leaving to go to Ocean City without telling Mom and Dad. They think he just went to the Orioles game and never came back. Mom and Dad don't really care. They've come to terms with having raised delinquent children. They've just gotten used to us getting in trouble by now.

It's so stupid but I love having my brothers at home. They're idiots but I love them.


In other news, I am now completely in love with Wizard Rock. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I am a Harry Potter nerd. I don't know why I didn't listen to this music before.


Reading: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling
I'm still immersed in my Summer Harry Potter reading marathon. That's probably why I've finally discovered my love for Wizard Rock.

Listening: Ginny and Me - The Mudbloods
I am such a nerd but I love it!

Nostalgia Must Die

There will not be any talk of high school ending. I will not be sentimental or nostalgic today. I will talk about Journ and Judgment.

I was editor of my school paper for the past year (and a half). I have a small staff, just ten girls. We've been together for two years and really gotten to know each other. All that said - these ten girls are insane. Every day I look forward to Journ (we newspaper folk are always shortening words because we're in a hurry to get the news out, we can't afford to take the extra millisecond to say the whole word) because undoubtedly everyone always ends up shouting over each other. It's like an episode of The View, loud women who start out just talking about a given topic but who always end up shouting like crazy women. I love it and I'm...[NO.I almost got nostalgic there. Must not be nostalgic.]

Since I've officially handed the paper over to the Junior (now rising Senior) Editor, we don't have anything to do in Journ class. We just sit around and chat, laughing and, in Mollie's case, screaming. Today, just like many other days, we shared stories. Many of these stories were drunken escapades, run-ins with the police.

I'm about to graduate high school. Alcohol is a part of my life. It's gotten me in trouble (case in point), it's made me sick, but generally I've always been very responsible. I'm 18 years old, old enough to vote and old enough to die in battle. Yes, I am a supporter of lowering the drinking age. But I don't want to talk about that, though. It's been talked over many times before.

In the past few days I've experienced some judgment because of my decision to drink in high school. Really? Stop judging me. I drink responsibly. I don't even drink every weekend and I certainly don't drink to get drunk. I know people who are much worse. And, honestly, I don't think drinking in high school makes me a bad person.

But this girl, a friend of mine no less, made a statement today, her voice dripping with judgment and that look on her face. This is a good friend of mine. I respect her choice not to drink. I don't judge her. I could understand if I had a problem and, as a friend, she felt the need to say something. That is definitely not the case.

Stop judging me. Yes, I'm not like you. I don't go to Church, I don't pray, I don't even really believe in religion. I drink, I have sex, I've done drugs. But I'm not a bad person.

I get good grades. I read the newspaper every day. I do service. I have good relationship with my family. I'm a loyal friend. I'm honest. I'm responsible. I care. I'll give you $20 and never ask you to repay me even though I don't have much money myself. If you need help, I'll be there without asking questions. I'm respectful. I'm nice.

I'm not perfect by any means but I'm not a bad person. Stop judging me.

Sorry for that mini-rant. That's what has been on my mind today.

Reading: [clicketyclick] Egypt to Be Center Stage in Obama's Address to Arabs [clicketyclick]
Literally at this moment that is what I am reading. I'm a NYT disciple. My favorite article from today: [clicketyclick] In German Suburb, Life Goes On Without Cars [clicketyclick]

Listening: Free Man in Paris - Joni Mitchell
Just came up in my iTunes shuffle and it makes me smile.

The Day Are Dwindling...

I won't talk about the AP Biology exam. Deduce from that what you will. I will, however, talk about the end of high school.

This is my last week of high school. It's hard to wrap my mind around this idea. This is my last week of high school. Ever.

I am not a sentimental person but only a robot would be immune from feeling sad at the end of high school. Yes, I'm looking forward to college. Yes, most of the time during the past four years at NDP I was counting the days until graduation. Yes, I can't wait to move out of state and live on my own. But I can't just let this moment pass by without pausing.

My school: small (135 graduating seniors), Catholic (School Sisters of Notre Dame), college preparatory (it's in the name - Notre Dame Preparatory School), old fashioned.

We have a lot of traditions (Gym Meet is the big one and our uniforms haven't changed since 1865). Some traditions I get sick of but some I actually love. One tradition that I find myself appreciating is writing Senior Letters.

You don't have to write a letter to everyone. I'm writing about 40 letters. Some are long, some are short. Some letters are funny, others are meaningful. The letters are whatever you want them to be. Goodbye, I'm sorry, Thank you, I love you, or everything all at once.

After my exam today I went to Barnes & Noble and sat in the cafe for almost two hours writing Senior Letters. I got three letters done, for three of my best friends. It was embarrassing to sit in the cafe alone, writing letters by hand, and crying to yourself. But it was nice. I said everything I had always wanted to say but never could.

I'm sad high school is ending. I'm sad to be leaving my friends, some of whom I have known since kindergarten. I like writing these letters because they remind me to pause and pay respect to the past four (or twelve) years of my life.

I'll be moving away soon but I'll be taking my letters and my friends. It's not over quite yet but the end is approaching. I'm going to make sure that I appreciate everything now before it's too late and I'm just remembering.

Expect every blog post this week to be sentimental, nostalgic, sappy, etc.


NEW FEATURE
Reading: The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy
I am a sucker for romance and adventure so I thought I would go straight to the classic. I loved studying the French Revolution this year in history class and I love Lauren Willig's Pink Carnation* series so it is about time I read this book.

Listening: Since March, Since September, and Still - The Mudbloods
Thanks, Hayley G. Hoover! This song is now my new favorite thing ever. I've been listening to it on nonstop repeat for about two days now. And now because of this song I've finally gotten into Wizard Rock after three years of resisting the call. I know. I'm a horrible Harry Potter nerd for not discovering my love for this music sooner.

*Romance, Chick Lit, History, Adventure, Spies - What isn't to love? The whole series is great.

Respiration, WTF?!

(This is not a blog as I take Sundays to rest my little typing fingers. This is just a quick shout-out)



I take the AP Bio exam tomorrow. Watching that video was the extent of my studying.

"You may ask 'What does it mean to me?'
You use celluar respiration to harvest your energy."

I Booed Texeira

The Orioles lost last night but I booed Texeira (and A. Rod) heartily:


"Guess what chumps, we've got Nick Markakis!"
That's right. Texeira is a douche. And he struck out three times last night.

The game was a lot of fun. I saw just about every person I know and about half of them were ridiculously drunk. I gotta say I like my drunk friends better than when they are sober. Drunk people are just more fun.

In other news, it is now officially a beautiful day. I've been sitting on my backporch writing senior letters all afternoon. I think I'm going to get back to enjoying this beautiful day now.

Here's to the Weekend

I am eating my very first popsicle of the summer. A lot of people look down on the popsicle as a lowly frozen treat but I am no snob, I love popsicles. The sun has finally come out after a full week in hiding and I am leaving soon to go to my first Orioles game of the season.

Here is the joke from my popsicle stick:
Q: What is a wheel's favorite song?
A: "Merrily We Roll Along"

Oh, Popsicle Stick Joke, I love you. You are worthless, not even worth a giggle, but I still love you.

Once my Popsicle Stick Joke was surprisingly advanced:
Q: What did the dog say to the cat?
A: Nothing. Dogs can't talk.

That just seems a little too sarcastic for my popsicle stick. I expect jokes that are completely obvious and very punny. I want:
Q: What dog keeps the best time?
A: A watch dog.

That is acceptable. A bad joke. That is what I want on my popsicle sticks.


Oh, I took my AP European History exam this afternoon. It was almost as funny as a classic Popsicle Stick Joke.

Now I'm off to eat peanuts and heckle the Yankees. Don't you just love summer/almost-summer?

Hope, Heartbreak, Exams, and Baseball

I'm going to keep today's post kind of short. It's been the kind of day that I want to write about but don't know how.

This morning was the AP Literature and Composition exam, which was surprisingly not that difficult. Our third essay, what we call the 7 Minute Special (not because we write it in 7 minutes but because we practiced so that we could come up with a thesis and outline in 7 minutes), was so broad it could have been used on just about any novel with any literary merit. We can't talk about the questions or else the AP police will turn us in but I think I did fairly well.

Now I just have AP European History tomorrow and AP Biology on Monday. 2 down and 2 to go.

Today was also the funeral for my friend's mother, who died last Saturday after a long battle with colon cancer. I missed the service because of the exam but made it to the reception afterwards. It was such a heartbreaking yet hopeful day. Peggy's mother had asked for everyone to wear bright colors and so no one was dressed in mourning clothes. All of the NDP girls were asked to wear our uniforms. It was so amazing to see all of my class show up together to support our classmate during this hard time. The reception was not a mournful affair at all. It was full of hope, which is just how I think it should have been.

Mother's Day is this weekend but Peggy and her two sisters will still be mourning their mother. Peggy's little sister will be starting high school next year and Peggy will be going away to college. There's no right time to lose a mother but this seems like a particularly hard time for their family. But these girls are so strong. It breaks my heart to see this family suffering but I also see hope and the strength in the girls.

I have to study for my next exam tonight. Tomorrow night I will be taking the night off to go to the Orioles game. Some of my friends are going to Spring Dance because it's our last dance at NDP but the Orioles take precedence, especially with the Yankees coming to town. Damn Yankees.

The Beginning of the End

Today was full of lasts for me. It was my last English, Bio, and Euro class. It was my last assembly (middle level music performance...can't say I'm going to miss hearing the screaches of the dying cat that is middle level orchestra). I handed in my last assignment of my high school carerr. It's weird to think about.

I suppose it's only natural. High school is winding down. The four years of my life that I have spent with NDP are now coming to an end. But first I have to survive three more AP exams.

On a totally different note, I am listening to the Vicky Christina Barcelona soundtrack right now. I love this soundtrack. All of the songs are either in Spanish or just beautiful Flamenco guitar. If I close my eyes I can almost pretend I am in Seville or Granada or Valencia or Barcelona. Two of my friends are going to Spain next year. Lou dropped out of college to go live in Europe and learn [wait for it] European massage. Why? I don't know. What makes European massage so special? I have no idea. But it is just such a Lou thing to do. Dan, a stoner and surfer but also a great guitar player, is going to Spain to learn Flamenco guitar. I am so jealous.

If I were ever to learn guitar seriously it would be Flamenco guitar. I can play a few chords now, nothing special. I just taught myself some basics when I was bored last summer. But Flamenco guitar? That takes skill and it sounds beautiful.

I'm off to pretend that I am here:

Why I Love My...

Here is why I love my brothers:
They call me before they get a hair cut just to get my opinion. How adorable is that? My two older brothers, off living on their own, still call every time they want to cut their hair. And they call me, their little sister, not Mom. That is why I love my brothers.

Here is why I love my sister:
Whenever she's driving home from work, she uses those ten free minutes to call and just talk about nothing with me. But we can never have a full conversation because we're always cut off when she goes through the tunnel. She drives the same route every day but she still forgets that her cell will die when she goes through the tunnel. That is why I love my sister.

I'm the youngest of 4. I've always been one of this group of 4. It's where I belong. 2 girls and 2 boys.

It's hard to stay as our group of 4 now that we're all living separately. Next year we will all be living in separate states. That's weird to think about.

5 Is A Number

Every Friday Sarah Dessen has a Friday 5 on her blog to end the week. And since I don't have any stories to tell today I'm going to steal the idea.

1. I have an irrational fear of light switches. Well, not a fear so much as they make me nervous. I hesitate every time I reach to turn on the lights. Why? you ask. That's extremely weird, you think. Yes, it is weird. I agree. I've posted about my freakish tendencies before. This one has an explanation, be it a lame one. In the winter, whenever I have turned on the lights in my house I have always been shocked. I don't like being shocked and so now I associate flipping a light switch with an electric shock. And so I dread having to flip the light switch.

2. I have my first AP test tomorrow. AP Statistics. I haven't studied and I don't plan on exerting myself all that much. Wednesday is my last day of full classes. Then, Thursday is AP English Literature. Friday is AP European History. Next Monday is AP Biology. I should be studying right now but I am not and I will not. I've spent four years studying my ass off to get into college. Now that I've achieved my goal I deserve some time off.

3. I'm watching Scubs right now and they're playing a Brett Dennen song! I love Scrubs and I love Brett Dennen. This is like strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce on top. Mmmm....

4. I don't know what to do about a roommate next year. 'Cuse doesn't even have you fill out a questionaire. It's just completely random. I don't want a nut job. There's this place on the Syracuse Class of 2013 Facebook group for people to find roommates (fill out a survey and then find friends) but I'm not sure if that's weird or not. Sometimes this Facebook generation is a little odd.

5. It's been a rainy weekend, which has just made everything feel that much worse. My friend's mom died on Saturday. The funeral is on Thursday but I have to miss it for my AP exam. I'll be going to the reception afterwards. I just hate that these things happen. This woman is a mother to three girls, one of whom is still young and will now have go through high school without a mother. It just breaks my heart.

Now I have to watch me some Gossip Girl and House.

I've decided that I will be taking Sundays off from blogging. On Sundays I like to pretend I am a dog and that usually doesn't include blogging. I've never met a dog who keeps up a blog.

Also, I love this picture.

Random Picture Saturday

Drive My Car

I like to drive. My sister used to complain all the time that living outside of town on a horse farm was annoying because she had to drive ten minutes to get everywhere. I, however, like the location of our farm because every day I get to drive on the winding country roads that I love so much. I just like driving. Whenever I need to think, I go for a drive. I come up with my best ideas when I'm driving. My mind is just much clearer in the car than any other place.

Ok, I drive fast. I think it's fun to drive fast. I know it's dangerous and I could get killed or kill someone but...I don't know. It's just fun. I never drive too fast, I know my limit (also my car can't go over 80). But I like to drive fast enough.

Yes, I'm going 65 mph in a 30 mph zone but I know these roads. I drive these roads multiple times every day of my life. My friends from the city freak out when they have to drive on the winding, country roads that surround my house. Some of them don't even have lines on them. Since I live in a valley, there are lots of hills all around my house. Yes, zigzagging down a steep hill is treacherous but I've driven that road about 10,000 times. I can get down the hill in less than a minute, taking each curve smoothly, without braking once.

I know all of the difficult turns. I know where all the cycling and running routes (Oh my God, we get a ton of cyclers on the weekends!). I know where to watch our for deer. I know where to watch out for cars backing out of hidden driveways. I know to avoid Long Green Road at 3 PM because the cows will be crossing the road. I know where and when the police hang out to catch speeders. Hell, I know the police officers.

I've never gotten a speeding ticket. I've never been in an accident. I just love to drive. And I think I'm good at it. I'm also one of those people who always has to drive if we're going somewhere as a group. I don't know why I always volunteer because I have to pay for my own gas and it's goddamn expensive but I just always have to be the driver. [The only exception is when we go out because I am never the Designated Driver for obvious reasons. On weekend nights I am happy to let my friends who don't drink drive. They also tend to be the slowest drivers but on Friday and Saturday nights I'm glad to be with cautious drivers because most people out there are driving recklessly.]

I don't think I drive recklessly. I'm always in control and aware. I know there's always the surprise, something you don't see, and that's when you get in an accident. But I drive carefully even though I'm going fast. If I'm in a tricky area, I'll slow down. But on those empty country roads, when I'm driving home and the roads are silent, I can't help but push up my speed and feel the exhilaration of a fast drive.

Maybe I'm just that typical teenager who will need to learn the hard way but I've been driving for about three years and I haven't had any trouble yet. Like I said, I think I'm a good driver. I have friends who drive just as fast or faster than I do, who are not careful and have been in multiple accidents or have gotten multiple speeding tickets. I'm a good driver, I feel at home in the driver's seat of a car. I love to drive. And sometimes I like to go fast.


Speaking of fast, today is the Kentucky Derby! (Did you like that seque?) Only one of my favorite days of the year. I love thoroughbred horse racing and I especially love the Triple Crown. My grandfather used to own and race thoroughbreds. We used to breed and train racehorses on our farm. I grew up fascinated by the sport, visitng the track every other weekend. I loved visiting the stables with my mom, who was the original horse lover in the family. She knew all the owners and trainers and every horse person in the state. When I was a little girl I met some of the Kentucky Derby winners. I met Cigar, if anyone remembers that horse. He was a great racehorse. I met some jockeys who had won Triple Crown races. God, I just loved that sport.

Now we only have retired racehorses on our farm and I don't visit the track very often. But I always sit and watch every second of coverage on the day of the Kentucky Derby. I place a few bets with my family and spend the day talking horses again. It feels so nice and so comfortable.

I know once I save up enough money, maybe once I decide to retire from journalism (which is my career of choice for my future), I'll buy a small horsefarm and raise thoroughbred racehorses. Horse racing is in my blood, in my heart, and I know I'll return to it someday.

For now I'll just fall in love with one of the young racehorses running in the Derby and spend the afternoon pretending I'm back at the racetrack.

STOP

About once a month, on a Wednesday afternoon, I have Social Service class. When I have the class I cannot leave for open campus and have to sit around school for about three hours on frees until the end of the day to go to Social Service. For any other class this would piss me off. But I like Social Service.

Some girls in my class like Social Service because it is the only class in the whole school taught by a young, single, fairly attractive male teacher. As much as I like Mr. Pomp (not his real name but close), I just never see teachers as anything but my teacher. If I see a teacher out of school it is the weirdest experience. I expect them to start lecturing me on Kruschev or hand me a pop quiz on polyatomics. Teachers are teachers, forever and ever amen. [There is one exception and that is Ms. G, who I knew before she was my teacher and is actually younger than my older sister. She's always been more like a friend that is very helpful and whom I respect very much]

I like Social Service because it is a discussion class, more of a seminar than a class. We talk about Social Justice, a very important topic that everyone should be intensely interested in. We talk about the service we have done over the year and how it affected our perspective on society. It's a great class.

This past Wednesday, we had a great discussion that was slightly off topic. We started to talk about Time.

Why are we all so desperate to fill our Time? Every second is scheduled. We're always busy busy busy. There's always some commitment to keep. we're always rushing to one place to another. Why can't we slow down?

I think it's easy to get caught up in our lives a little too much. Then, when someone asks us to slow down we freak out. "I CAN'T slow down! I have to get to yoga. Then my piano less. Then I'm tutoring my neighbor in Spanish. Then, I have to write a paper on the Cold War and write up a lab for Biology. Plus, I have to bake cupcakes for my friend's birthday tomorrow."

Phew! That's a whole lot of shit right there. And that's a normal day.

All of those activities, taken on their own, are great. Yoga is a great form of exercise. I love playing the piano. Tutoring is a nice thing to do for a friend. I have to do my homework to keep up my grades. And who wouldn't bake cupcakes for a good friend?

But why do all of these things need to be thrown all together, all on one night. And why do I feel like if I miss one thing I have failed, let everyone down? Yes, I can fit it all in if I schedule everything well but why am I trying to squeaze so much in at once?

Why can't we all just slow down? Our whole society, I mean.

Everyone. Just drop one or two commitments for a week. Use that extra hour to do something for yourself, see how you feel. Actually get more than 6 hours of sleep at night. Slow down. Walk calmly through life instead of run at full speed 24/7.

It's exhausting but society tells us that we need to fill up our time. People who don't schedule five hundred different events to fill their days are seen as lazy. Really, what's wrong with that guy sitting on the couch eating Cheese Curlz and watching football? Ok, maybe too many Cheese Curlz and no work whatsoever is bad but just an hour or two every day?

Why not just take a walk with your dog and instead of impatiently waiting for Fido to do his business and get it over with, smile at your neighbor and ask him how he's been? Because when we're always rushing around to our ten million commitments we become so wrapped up in ourselves we lose touch with people around us. Whatever happened to actually talking to people. Not texting of writing on facebook walls, but talking?

Just now my sister called on the phone and we talked for ten minutes about absolutely nothing. But we weren't rushing off anywhere and we had an actual conversation. We didn't discuss our plans or everything that was stressing us out. We just talked.

I don't know. I just want to slow down. STOP.