The Safest Way Into Tomorrow

So here I sit, wet hair dripping down my back, my mom's voice echoing in my head about how I need to go blow it dry, listening to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and nursing a painful headache. That's the problem with vacations—you get lazy if you're not careful, and well I have gotten lazy. But oh well, school will be starting soon enough, and I will be working my butt off.

I miss summer. It was a good time, for different reasons. In the beginning, it was spending time with the friends I loved like brothers and sisters; but in the end, it was meeting new people, and helping out. Doing something for the greater good. I miss those easy days of summer.

Sleep, don't turn away you are the safest way into tomorrow

Dreams, if you will stay, or at least the best parts let us borrow

Qu'est-ce que VOUS dites?

Well, today I spent the day reading old writings, watching the British Whose Line Is It Anyway?, listening to music, accidentally deleting my email account...all in all, a very interesting and RELAXING day. It was an incredible, a fantastic feeling, knowing that I had nothing I had to do today! Granted, I have a list of chore a mile long I have to do tomorrow. But technicalities.

I don't really have a lot to say...I am rather tired. I might post a piece of a story on here. Just for fun. I'm not sure yet.

Watch the British Whose Line Is It Anyway. I think my life has been made.

And remember children, a wise man never plays leapfrog with a unicorn.

A Memory From Long Ago :)

In the seventh grade, when our ignorant Pre-Alegbra teacher sat the two of us side-by-side, Ted and I were inseparable. At the time, I was taller than him, but not by much. I was about five foot two; he was about five foot one and a half. His eyes were the color of his hair—golden-brown. I know it sounds weird, but they looked good that way. His hair laid flat on his head. His bangs barely showed his eyebrows, and when he jerked his head, the hair followed a second later.

We were good friends. He always stole my stuff; I always beat him with whatever it was he stole. He'd poke me on my semi-bare feet with either his Number 2, fully sharpened pencil or his extremely pointy mathematical compass; I'd bop him on the back of the head with my hand. We bantered more often than not, and it was a wonder our teacher never separated us.

When I look back on those years, it's a wonder he stuck by my side for so long, because I was definitely a complicated girl. My moods changed at the drop of a hat. I had a quick temper, but, for the most part, was an extremely quick forgiver. I cried when I was frustrated, and laughed when I fell down a flight of stairs. And whenever I sat by Ted. I had cried hard the day Steve Irwin died, but of course, the next day Ted was there to cheer me up. Good ol' Ted.

"Hey Courtney, did I ever tell you about my evil daycare?"

I shook my head.

"Well, there was this boy there. He was so mean! He always tried to pull my pants down!"

I cocked an eyebrow, giving him a look expressing my feelings of how he was giving me TMI. "That must not have been fun."

"No. Well, anyways, I always tried to escape that place. One day, I made it—but that was only because the kid was trying to pull my pants down and it gave that extra boost to get over the top."

I nodded, glancing over to where our math teacher was. I really didn't want to get in trouble with her, but, in all honesty, I don't think I could of told Ted to be quiet. I know I didn't want to.

"So, I make it over the fence, and I'm running down the road at full speed—I knew where my house was, though I was, like, four—and I run across the street, when BAM, this car hits me!"

I stare at him, eyebrows raised, a smile spreading across mouth.

"And guess who gets out."

"Who?"

"My mother!"

At this point, I'm laughing helplessly. I try to stifle the noise by covering my lips with my hand. Ted grinned and kept going.

"So she jumps out of the car, and comes over to me and starts yelling at me—and here I am like half-conscious, fading in and out. So, she finally takes me to the hospital, and they're all like: 'Are you alright, Ted?' They had this room all set up for me—they always had a room ready for me, even when I wasn't there. Just in case. Man, I still remember all the nurses names!"

"You do not!" I laughed.

"I do! Let's see…" He proceeded to name every one of them, making me giggle harder.

"Oh! And the school nurse was scary! She'd just sit there, in her dark room, and stare at me—me twitching and bleeding—and she'd be like, "You'll be okay, Ted," and I'm just sittin' there, twitching and bleedin' and stuff."

I didn't bother to tell him that he'd said 'twitching and bleeding' twice—I was laughing too hard to care. When I had calmed down enough, I turned to give him a curious look.

"Ted..."

He glanced at the board behind me, where the teacher was writing notes for us to copy, his pencil scribbling furiously. "Yes?"

"Was any of that true?"

He looked at me for a second, a strange light in his eyes. "Nope."

My jaw dropped, and I punched him playfully. "What! You loser! Why did you do that?" I wondered aloud.

He shrugged. "It made you smile, didn't it?"

And to think, that boy knew more about me than I myself did.

*names changed

Texting And Boy, You Suck

So, I have this friend and I don't quite know what to think of him. At times, he is the most amazing guy, calling me "awesome" and "one of the coolest girls" he has ever met. But then he won't answer any of my messages, and will act like he doesn't want to talk to me. It's so frustrating, and what he doesn't realize is that it ruins the compliments, and makes it seem like he doesn't really mean them. I mean, he says it's because he forgets to answer them, but it's soo confusing for me, because I can't tell if he just forgot to answer a txt or if he doesn't want to talk to me and is ignoring me. And granted, i know my phone messes up a lot of the time, and doesn't even send the message (something I have discovered through talking with other friends), making it even MORE confusing when he doesn't reply: did he no get the message, did he forget to answer the message, or did he not want to reply? Stupid boys. Because sometimes, he can be such an amazing friend, knowing exactly what to say, and then other times...-sigh-. And I always feel like I'm nagging him, but I practically have to sometimes, especially when I' trying to learn what time or place something is at. I hate it! I just wish that he would stop confusing me so much! Are we friends or am I just that crazy girl who you were forced to sit by and talk to so much? Gah, it's why I hate texting so much, because you can never tell what is really going on. I would so much rather call people, and actually hear their voices, hear their feelings. As Chad Eastham once said, "Don't text my heart."

You know who you are, now do you understand my constant frustration???

<3

Christmas

For the last few days I have been stuck in Hicktown, USA with my parents and grand-stuff. I say grand-stuff because it is my grandmother and her new husband, Jim*, and I'm not quite sure what to call them yet. When I say grandparents, it always makes me think of my grandfather who died a few years ago, and who I called Poppop. Weirdest name, I have no idea where the nickname came from. But God, I loved him. and it's weird now, because Jim reminds me so much of him. When I came to this town, this town where people say "yonder" and "dad gum it!" and so many strange things, I was expecting the absolute worse. I was expecting what happened the last time I was in this dreaded place, I was expecting screaming and fighting and drunken swears and curses. To this day, I hate the smell of alcohol on a person's breath; it makes me relive the nightmare over and over again. But alas, these last few days have been different, have been better than ones in the past. True, my grandmother still acts like she is eight years old, and true, my beloved grandfather is still gone, but I was wrong in my anxiety over Christmas.

So. Yes. Merry Christmas :)

December 24, 2009. 7:08 PM.

*names changed