You know, Brett, you're an inspiration to everyone! ... Okay, maybe just me.

I had a mini panic attack last night when I realized that we are officially half way through summer vacation. Life is rushing by faster than I would like it to be. I blame Tyler. :) Every moment spent with him I find lasts forever, and then is gone within the second. This summer has been romantic, busy, relaxing, and disappointing all at the same time.

My disappointment stems from the most self-hating reason I can ultimately think of: I haven't written substantially at all this summer. Since June 13th, I've kept with myself a confidential journal and compilation of letters to Tyler that only he and I can read, and it's kept my thoughts and my doubts contained and controlled. I haven't, however, written one chapter for my novel, nor have I written two pages for a short story. Not even one. The three times I've forced myself to try, I sat staring numbly into space, my mind and my thoughts whizzing about my head sporadically.

Lucky for me, I happened to stumble upon something earlier this week. I regret to say that I have no idea where I read it, or when I found it, where, why, etc. BUT. I specifically remember receiving the message and taking it to heart. Basically, someone said that 90% of the time, the writer is staring off into space, thinking wildly of other things than actually writing. I think that's how it is for me. Because this blog is an excellent example of this. My last post was a month ago! It took me a month to think of something else to write about, while during that month I did god knows what.

Today's credit in getting me to write something goes to my friend Brett, whose admittedly dark and negative blog inspired me. Who would have thought? I've been searching for my long lost inspiration for a very long time, and only just now finding it within the depths of words written almost nonchalantly from a very good friend.

The only obstacle facing me is the restlessness I feel everyday, and the shifts I need to cover at work. How I look at my days is much more different than how my days really are. For example, I see ten percent of my day being slept through, then two hours consumed by facebook and wandering around like a ghost. Another two hours in just my usual mini-adventure in getting TO the bus stop, then taking the bus to work. Most of my afternoon and evening is spent working, and then I come home and ten percent of my night lift is used reading, sleeping, or writing to my boyfriend in a pathetic little composition notebook recently used for my pathetic Health-class notes.

In reality, what free time I have is spent doing absolutely useless things, and then the productive things I do is consumed by work.

That's why when I have a day off, I do everything in my power to make sure I do or hang out with someone worth hanging out with. Does that make sense? I'm sure it does.

That's all that I feel I have to say for this particular post. I have more to say for today, since I just barely earned back my want to write write write. I'm going to begin a brand new post though, because it's its own topic. 

New Love

Have my dreams finally come true?
Am I in love with my best friend?
He's my friend for a reason
He's there because he cares.
I've lied through my teeth,
But never to him.
I trust very few
And him with my heart.
We met through courage
And grown ever since,
Only to love each other more.
This love isn't blind,
I've seen it coming for a time,
It's not rushed,
It's not petty.
Rather, it's valiant,
Bold,
and Good.
I'll love him now and forever,
Even if the worst comes to worse.
It took strength to come to terms,
Bravery in him,
Acceptance and Confidence from me.
It's a story-book love
One a girl often dreams
For me there's no fantasy
The dreams become reality
It must be the same for he
who is so much like me.


The last time I posted about love was when I danced with Brody at a stake dance once upon a time. It was in the middle of winter, a happiness I thought I needed. Now looking back and comparing with how I feel now, I convinced myself to love him, to get caught up in the illusion of being a girlfriend. He asked me with a card trick, something clever and cheesy, and I appreciate things like that, but in the end, what really wins me over is the courage it takes someone to just tell me what they've felt.

I took time to write a specific post about how I've been coping with the limited friendships I have. I tried to see every view point. And at one point, I wrote about a small fantasy I have, to just fall in love with my best guy friend and have him fall in love with me. I don't know if the gods became good to me, or if luck has the upper hand, but the way life has presented itself lately has become so fortunate. Mostly because Tyler and I were able to come out to each other about our feelings for one another.

I've denied myself over and over that I had a little 'crush' on him. I always told myself that he was just my friend and that there couldn't be another way to feel, but my subconscious had other plans.

To make the story short, I once dreamed I had fallen in love with another guy at school, and by the end of my insane dream, Tyler was there, watching with yearning and jealousy. I didn't think that meant anything. At first I thought it was just a jealousy for the loss of time spent together. After last night's phone call, talking to Tyler and figuring things out, I just now realize how completely bizarre and psychic my subconscious is. That's only a minor revelation though.

The only thing I truly care to say today is just so: If I had never leaned across my desk and poked Tyler in the back on that first day of school, things might have been completely different. That, or fate would have found a different way to pull us together. I can't help but wonder that if his sister had kept him at Pleasant Grove High we would meet only later in our lives, like in college, or at a football game, or even in the emergency room. 

I don't know if this is truly how Kaeli and Tyler Keetch feel about each other. All I know is that this doesn't feel like a simple teenage relationship. I've always loved him, and more so now that I know he likes me. I don't plan on getting sexual though. I can't even fathom that idea right now. I just...love him. You know?

Summer

I fail epically at remembering to put sunscreen on my easily burnable skin. As summer progressively creeps upon us Utahns this year, so does my random urge to draw with chalk, wear short, unflattering shorts, run around the University Mall like a maniac, and run until my shoes come apart.

Weather has been odd lately. Just Monday it was 90 degrees and I thought I would have died from heat exhaustion. I longed for the coolness of winter. Then today comes along with stormy clouds and cold winds, and I immediately wanted the hot weather back.

Currently I'm suffering with the dramas of Rhinitis, or as you normal people like to call it: head cold. I know it's just a simple cold, but every minute it wears on I just want to strangle myself or replace my head with some other healthy head so I won't have to deal with this.

The most bothersome part of the cold is actually the sinusitis. I hate having to be constantly active in order to keep my nose clear when I'm supposed to be sitting still in class. The longer you sit still, the more time your swollen mucus linings have of multiplying and slowly seeping through the nasal conchae to clog up your air passage.  You would think you could just blow it out and it would all be fine, but that little microzombie (aka VIRUS) that possesses your epithelial tissues is reproducing faster than you can grab a tissue.

Today is my only day off from working this week, so I have to use this precious time wisely, but instead my body decides to let undead organisms in and weaken me for a good three days. Do you know how frustrating it is when you have so much do to and you have to suffer through the headache and nose in order to it? I would have been fine in doing it on a normal day.

Apparently you can't just plug your nose and breathe through your mouth the whole time. At one point you need to swallow that accursed saliva.

I keep telling myself I have to take more pictures of my life so I'm not lacking in adventure when I'm older, but when I tell myself this, I am sorely reminded of my half-broken camera from the early 00's, and then the dream fades and I shuffle enviously through other facebooker's sophomore year photos. Even if I tried, my friends would all be so afraid of the camera, and it would sadden me even more. That is why I am planning on getting a car this summer, saving up some money, buying a camera, and dully documenting all of my junior year, or at least when I can remember. That way if my friends don't want to be captured on camera because they don't look presentable that day, I will teach them to look presentable every day so they have no fear of photos and facebook. It's full proof.

I drew Rapunzel from Tangled on my driveway, only to have her half washed away by the sprinklers the next.

The thing with drawing huge pictures on a slanted driveway is the face that when you stand at a certain angle, some parts look bigger than other parts when they really don't. It's perspective. That is why optical illusionists are successful when it comes to chalk art. I have yet to learn something like that, and when I do, I probably won't be very good at it. So I'll just stick to drawing simple figures.

I'm planning on drawing something else when I know my fingers are completely healed and I have time to do it. When you draw with chalk, to get that smooth, solid look with the color, you have to blend the chalk dust into the cement. It's very rough on your fingers. I've basically rubbed three of mine raw from doing Rapunzel in one sitting. (And I used up all three of my yellows :[ Which is very sad.)

I really miss seeing my Superman chalk drawing. He was the first legitimate drawing I've ever done, and he turned out amazing. But lo-and-behold, there's always something new to draw.

What's up with me? What's up with YOU?

This is new. Very new. A new way to type out my big long, pathetic posts. Oh well.

I've currently been indulging in a little series introduced to me by my lovely aunt Almond. Every time I spell the word "aunt" I can't say "ant". I have to say "awnt", and then it results in me spelling "awnt".

Recognize this picture?

It's Dexter. From the series Dexter.

(It's rated NC-17 for mature adults and for mormon teens who don't want to be corrupted.)

I finished the end of season 4, and to be fair to all those who haven't/are seeing it right now, I will say nothing about what I saw except that someone dies and it's not cool.

My mom watched the last episode with me, so she was sitting next to me while the final scene went down. I noticed her looking over at me every once in a while, but I didn't care. What I saw before me on that TV screen was pure horror. It triggered some kind of destroyer of composition within me and I broke down under the pressure like an unsaturated fat breaks down to glycogen.

Whether it be the lack of crying I've done in the past few months, the pathetic-ness of my weak and puny soul, or the legitimacy of my reaction, I started with a few leaking tears, then ended with an Advil PM to stop my hyperventilating.

Between the two, I vaguely remembered the utter rage and hurt I felt when I learned of this mysterious character's death. My hormones were either out of control or my feelings for characters and stories were. I sobbed as though someone real in my life (like my dad or my uncle or something) had died. My mom kept telling me it was just a story, they were just characters.

Two people, my mom and someone else whom I don't recall, both told me that I didn't have to worry because the actress wasn't dead. Well duh. I know that.

There is something people need to know about me, and that is just this: I have this problem, nature, if you will, of being introduced to (or creating) a character and finding a small little latching point where my feelings will attach and follow through to the end. My novel isn't completed, and that is why I am still obsessing and attached to the characters in my novel. It happened with Supernatural as well, where I began to obsess over Dean, Sam, and Cass until I reached the end of Season 6 (since i couldn't go on until season 7 comes to netflix). The sudden attachment peeled away slowly, more towards the back of my mind.

Now Dexter has come into my life, and the writers keep throwing shit at him as he progresses along with his Dark Passenger.

They're real to me. I know it's all fiction, but they are all so easily defined and complex that they're like a normal, exciting person to watch and follow and feel with throughout the entire story. It's my only chance to relax and insert myself, to wish for only a moment that maybe my life could be as exciting as this.

So now I have justified my reaction to Rita's death.

There IS a sun behind that raincloud over your head, you need only take a looksee!

I think best when I walk alone. I do a lot of this now-a-days, because of the car-less situation. I don't mind it at all! I love the exercise, and it does give me time to think, to retreat inside myself and hide. My days are wild and crazy, going from one thing to the next without a break, (at least during the days I work) so when I try to sit down and think, all I want to do is vedge to my heart's content online or watch movies like a mother or read or do something that doesn't take much effort after I do my homework.

I bring this up, because on my way to work I walked and thought about my day and my mood and my behavior concerning my mood. I mainly wondered why I think such dark, crude thoughts when I feel like dark storm clouds are over my head. I wonder why anyone has to be so mean when upset? I also wonder why most people have a raincloud when there is so much to look forward to in this world!

The two superior women in my life are emotionally unstable sometimes and find the more pessimistic side of life. My mother is always so depressed and all she ever wants to do is just go out. It's understandable, but sometimes it can get a little irritating, especially when I almost never go out and all my plans revolve around homework and work.

Today my little brother wanted to go to a Hope of America concert as a volunteer, and begged my mom two days in advance. She wouldn't say no, of course, but her attitude towards it worried me a little. Eric, especially little Eric, never asks for much, and he never goes out. Inconveniently, my mom was going to go out today, of all random weekdays. I just don't understand why she can't reschedule and go out tomorrow and dedicate today for Eric? I don't get why she has to fuss and complain about it. I understand she needs to know more in advance, which is a little bit of Eric's fault, but he doesn't grasp that concept yet, and he needs a break.

Of course, most of this hostility comes from the situation at hand; a situation not easily curable in this moment in time. Our family of seven: two full time adults, a part time teenager, and four hopeful boys weaving their wants to visit friends into our schedule are all demanding at some point the use of a car. We're down to one car, since our precious mini-van disappeared with a tow truck after leaking radiator fluid. The situation is pressing, our financial situation is struggling, and my parents aren't handling the stress very well at all.

My role in all of this is to just work work work and save save save for my own car. That way they won't have to worry about me getting to and fro. My mother could use the car as well, sometimes, and then the tension would lessen considerably. The problem is I'm still 1,500 dollars away from this dream with a father who stubbornly thinks I'll have it in three months and a mother who keeps insisting that I don't have to worry, she'll buy a car.

And yet, with all these heavy burdens on my shoulders, I'm taking it all in much better than my mother.

My dad picked me up from work tonight and on our way back, he talked about our friend Almond having a stressful time with work, and my mom being so depressed. I looked over at him and said, "Well, that's why I'm here."

"Thank God for that," He said, and we punched knuckles.

I have a feeling that this determination, this optimism will carry on even through college and all those upcoming knots in the neck when I'm a surgeon. I'm positive that I won't end up like my mom because I'll be doing something I love. I don't get depressed easily, and when I do, it's only just a bad day. I wouldn't even consider it depression, because there's always someone in this world who will make me smile and ignite that chain reaction of crazy inside me...no matter how I feel.

I think the most important thing for everyone to know right now as we pull out of the winter blues and into the summer fun is that life is too short to look at it in black and white. Eat a little bit of ice cream, gain a pound or two, exercise a lot, and labor through the struggles with a smile on your face. There's no better feeling than happiness.

Spring Break, Half way done! :(

I've made beautiful creations so far this weak. Absolutely divine. All you do is take a little bit of driveway, a little bit of chalk, and you put them together to make art. I'll show you.

I've managed to keep a steady stream of masterpieces coming. I started Easter morning, and ever since, I've churned out one every morning. I have no idea what I want to do tomorrow. I'm ever so slowly running out of chalk, which is absolutely heartbreaking. I wish I had more colors too, but red, green, blue, yellow, and white are fine. At least they get me somewhere.

The Absolutely Random Update

I can't stress enough to you how much school work I have to deal with. It's a little ridiculous, considering there's not many assignments to do as there is studying and test-taking. I'm only a little bit stressed. My digestive system test is huge, and it is on Friday before Spring Break, as well as the auteur test in Film class, and an almost annoying vocabulary quiz. We have to spell a scientific word for "black lung". I think it's

Pneumonomicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis or something like that. No, I'm pretty sure that's it. Anyhow, when on earth are we going to use this in our live? Of course, I will, because I'll be a doctor and stuff, but for a normal person's average vocabulary. I can hardly spell the word, let alone pronounce it. I'm going to give you a candy if you can pronounce it correctly.

Other than that, spring break is coming up, and I have no idea what I'm going to do. Until I get to work tonight, I will have no idea what my schedule will be like work wise. A part of me hopes Monnica (My boss) hasn't realized that Spring Break is next week, and that I don't get any lunch shifts, but I wouldn't know. I think her daughter might be on the same school schedule as I am, which would suck, because I want to have a warm spring break with sidewalk chalk, sun bathing, and ... cleaning?

Right. I get to clean all week, which will just be so fantastic. I will also have a bunch of homework I'll have to deal with, since I've got a research paper due in English soon. It won't be awesome.

I got a new belt, and usually I'm not a belt-wearing kind of girl, but I decided that I need to hold my pants up, otherwise they'll fall off. My belt keeps getting caught on the chair in this weird desk. It frustrates me.

So I have this love for the blog Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh. The problem is, she hasn't updated in several months. It's already April, and there isn't one post in 2012! It's disappointing me. So I decided to write her a fan letter! I'm tempted to just copy and paste it onto here for all of you to read it, but I'm already half-embarrassed that I sent it to her alone. I'm sure she's gotten some pretty stupid fan mail, but I don't know. My letter was pretty cheesy.

I'm really hungry. I should probably get food soon so it will hold me over until lunch, but what to get?