Repeat..... Repeat......

I changed my mind the moment I walked through the door and saw my father sitting at the computer with a big old grin on his face. All feelings of wishing they were here blew from my mind. They weren't supposed to be back until tonight. I wanted to clean up the house and have it look spotless for their return. I wanted to do something sweet and nice and amazing for them. But instead, I got a disapproving look for having their bedroom a disaster where I slept, and got to clean clean clean while they looked at their Hawaii pictures.

Suddenly I realized how very much I want them to stay away in Hawaii. All my freedoms are now gone and it's a shocking reality for me after such a long week. 

Most frustrating, is when I left the house this morning, there were a few bowls and glasses around the sink. When I came home, there was a pile of dishes. Now how could that be so?

It's back to the same boring patterns: sleep, go to school, castleville, hear parents yell at each other, clean, castleville/work, homework, sleep, repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

I desperately wish I had my own car but didn't have to pay for gas. I wish I had my own TV to watch Dexter on. I wish I had a personal bathroom all to myself. I wish I had a mattress topper for extra comfort. I wish I.... oh, I already exceeded my three wishes.

School hasn't been too exciting lately, and I almost always enjoy school. I'm pretty sure it's because of my friends. I have nothing against them, I love them all to death, but some of them drive me off the walls. Like whenever Tyler F. talks about his tragic family stories, his horrific childhood, his feelings about other men, his self-hate because he can't get good grades like me, or how he loves Abby Heath (his "twin sister"). Kaeli and Tyler K. are just too clingy and they kiss and kiss and hump each other and it's ridiculous. Brayden I love to be around. He's just normal for a gay guy. Not overly dramatic, not overly obvious, he's just a mellow person for being gay.

I haven't seen Brody or Matt around lately, which I'm secretly thankful for. I hate Matt. Period. Brody I can only tolerate so much, since he's always got something dirty to say or...well, something dirty to say. Ugh.

Kaylynn...I've actually missed her. I mean a serious nostalgic feeling for ninth grade, when I was her super awesome best friend and nothing would get between us...kind of.  But what really saddens me is the fact that though I know Kaylynn loves me and likes being around me, I don't think she is so fond of me as to go out of her way and do something amazing for me like I do for her. If she has that kind of time to use, she'd use it on her boyfriend, whom never escapes to be talked about each day.

I don't feel like I have a true best friend who has the potential and understanding to know every deep, dark secret and feeling within me. Rachel fits into that category, but she's more like my sister than a super best friend. No, sometimes I wish my life could be like a story and I could have a friend who knows ME and falls in love with ME because of ME. I want them to fall in love with me because I nod and listen to them sob about their "crappy" day at home, because I try to help them with their homework or their problems, or write a poem for them, or smile just because I want to make their day bright.

I want a girlfriend who I can trust, who would cry with me and support me in all I do. Not tell me "You need to eat lunch" like I'm anorexic or something. I want a best friend who will stay up late with me on Friday nights and scream as loud as she can with me when we watch a scary movie. I want to have a friend that I can open up to and tell her who's attractive, how I feel, without feeling like she might spread it on to someone else. I want a best friend I can hug for hours if I wanted, and she wouldn't care. I want a friend to share inside jokes with, to share hobbies with. I want someone who would be willing enough or care enough to try reading my writing.  I want someone I could just collapse into their lap, or rest my head against their shoulder and cry, and they wouldn't ask me one question about it.

But all that work should be returned just as kindly, and I never receive it.

I'm asking for too much. There might never be anyone like that for me out there except myself. Should I become friends with myself? Would I eventually go insane? Or should I continue to feel an empty companionship, stare at the space on my right covered with cobwebs?

A possibility would be to let it all out through my writing, but whenever I do write, I mean to write and expand on my story, instead of my feelings. I lose myself in the world of fantasy and war and love and life and magic. I forget my problems, and then when I come back, they're waiting at the threshold, ready to release their eager determination upon me. I sink back into the depressing routines of every day life. And then I feel like crying.

I doubt I have the actual mental disease "depression", but my life isn't normally surrounded by so much sadness. Usually I carry with me an optimism no one can penetrate with their pessimism, and I can allow it to stretch its wings and affect others around me. But lately, I've felt this pressing need to get out of this bubble, out of this horrid winter in Utah. I want so badly to move on in my life, not be stuck in high school with lectures about college over and over again. I want to act on my decisions now, but being held back, rooted in place, stirs frustrations and sadness in me. I want nothing more than to change it up and do something new.

That's why when I heard my parents' passive/aggressive arguing upstairs, only hours after they had gotten back from their long vacation, that I realized hopelessly that I'm trapped in a loop with no end or beginning.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Only my desires, my determination to reach my goals, and my passion for writing might get me through this early cycle of adulthood. I pray I never lose these intangible values, because when I turn forty, I will still be in this dreary cycle. Sleep, Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat.

Repeat.

A Weekend Alone

Only recently have I continuously opened the blogger tab, looked at my last entry on Valentine's day, and closed it down again, inspiration not eminent in mind. I've had the house to myself for a whole weekend, and yet it seems I barely spent time at home because I was out and about. My parents left for Hawaii last Tuesday, and ever since then I've been paranoid, responsible, and so busy. I don't really mind it, but when I have to take care of my brothers, I begin to realize how much I really rely on my parents.

With them home, I don't have to worry about robbers coming into the house, because it's their responsibility to beat them up.

I don't have to worry about feeding my brothers dinner, though there may be moments when I have to anyway.

I won't have to worry about driving the boys to school in the mornings and missing quizzes in first period, because they'll drive me to the bus.

I won't have to worry about buying $30 worth of gas because I won't be driving AS often as I had been this entire week.

However, I've found that life could be a little easier if I lived like this all the time. I always have to appreciate the good things in life, even if they'll disappear tomorrow morning.

I got to wake up at 6:30, even 7:00, instead of 5:45.

I got to sleep in my parents' humungo bed and have a blast watching TV all night.

I could watch Dexter as often as I wanted to, since I had a TV upstairs.

I didn't have to be driven grudgingly, or take the UTA bus for $2.25 every trip to work.

I didn't have to walk home from the bus stop in the cold.

I could run to the store willy nilly.

Even though there were so many cool things I could do while in charge, I still want them home, because I miss their authority and comfort. It will conform to the normal patterns again, but sometimes that's not such a bad thing. I like my own bed, I don't mind waking up early, and I'm going to create a calendar of when I have to work now, so no one will freak out when I tell them the day of. I mostly want them home because I'm tired of being so responsible for the boys. I cannot handle four kids on my own, and I never will have four kids.

This experience taught me a lesson, however. I'm certainly not ready to be on my own yet. I can't even comprehend the fact that I have to spend $50 on gas just to get to work for a week. I also realized that despite how much I want to stay in American Fork, I need to accept the fact that we'll have to move, and I'm hoping it will be closer to work. All I'll really be leaving behind is my favorite teachers and my two best friends.

As well as realizations, I decided that since this week alone ended, I can do more things that I've been wanting to do while the parents are home, like pick up more shifts, go jogging when I want to, and hang out with people without having to think about babysitting the  boys.

I wouldn't mind being free of KC's and Krista's annoying "Is everything alright?" every time I put a status on Facebook too. I mean, it gets really annoying when I know that everything is perfectly fine.

I'm also jealous that my parents are somewhere tropical, fun, and warm, while my brothers and I are stuck in a snow globe called Utah. Even the boys had fun over the weekend at my grandparent's house. Like, major fun, while I was stuck working a four hour shift in the smack middle of my Saturday.

I had my cousin though, so it wasn't too bad of a weekend. I really love her, and I was so glad to spend time with her for a while.

You know something really weird? I barely paid attention to school this week. I was so caught up in the future things I needed to do, how I was going to do it, or thinking about watching Dexter, that I began to slack a little. I've eaten so much junk food, and it's getting really bad. I need to control myself better if I am ever going to trust myself to be on my own when I graduate high school. I haven't done any reading, sadly enough. I hate myself for it.

So now that they'll be back tonight, I can finally get my sleeping patterns back to normal, my eating habits under control, and my real responsiblities in order. I'll start by making the boys do a Saturday chore chart when I get home today.

For now, I'm going to try and avoid doing anything else in class right now. I'm getting very sick of writing news articles. I'm beginning to hate this class a lot.

Forced Gooey Day

I assume everyone just wants to blog about Valentine's Day, whether it be good or bad. Some people would want to gush all about their romantic day with that special someone, or maybe another would want to angrily type out how stupid it is, or someone might want to try and persuade people that it's just a consumer holiday.

Whatever the reason may be, it's still a post about Valentine's Day, and that's exactly what I'm doing.

I was feeling pretty left out. I think it might be Valentine's ultimate goal to make singles feel lonely.

It was fun, however, to see all those Valentine fanatics run around with their pink clothing and over sized candy hearts. Kaeli got Hello Kitty and balloons and candy, Kaylynn made her boyfriend bacon roses and then received a random rose from a random kid. It's nice to know that not ONE guy out there notices me. :\

But I get my hopes up too high. I'm glad I'm single.

I don't have to feel obligated to buy a stupid little present for them. I don't have to worry about keeping them happy. I don't have to worry about their moodiness. I don't have to worry about parental judgment and warnings about pregnancy. I don't have to worry about spending money or planning dates. Life is EASY without a boyfriend! And frankly? I don't want a long term relationship. I just want dates with lots of guys. It would be easier just so I could see what it would be like to be with a lot of different guys.

Have you stereotypical teenagers thought of that before? No. Because you think you've fallen in love with that one person and think you'll marry them and all that shit. We'll see who's right in a few years. We'll see...

Anyway, enjoy the holiday, I suppose. But it shouldn't be made into such a big deal. Forced Romance Day, Singles' Awareness Day...gooey Day, you know, it's all the same.

And guess what. It IS a consumer holiday.

Erica

It was only a few days ago, Thursday to be exact, when I found out that my childhood-best friend had just been taken to foster care by her cruel and mentally psychotic mother.

However, I was told that Erica had tried to run away again, so I cannot blame her mother for being stressed and put out by her actions, though I think foster care is a little too strong for such actions by a confused, emotionally wrecked teenage girl.

Honestly? I knew Erica was surrounded by bad influences and she was dating a guy who lived on the edge of risk his whole life and she had done drugs in the past and her womanly hormones are destroying her from the inside...but I knew she could quit acting like a hopeless teenager and become strong again if she wanted to, which was why I hadn't given up on her quite yet.

But Erica, being a rebel since she was born, wasn't finished feeling like she could do whatever she wanted. She sluffed class, she swore up and down, she dated Skyler despite her mother saying no, and she didn't get her school work done. Most of these were her mother's concerns, of course, and I agree with her mother for trying so hard to keep her in line. I think it was Erica's fault in the sense that she didn't stop to think about how her actions would play out with her mother or with neighbors or friends or police.

There was a period of time when Erica told me she would try her very hardest to get her work done, never sluff a class, and do whatever her mother told her to do. Her reward? Her mother pulled her out of school for lunch! But it was Erica's weakness of needing to have attention, needing to be rebellious, that she began to slack and follow her old habits of bad, even downright inappropriate behaviors.

I knew that when she began to slack again, I couldn't help her, no matter what I said or tried to do for her. I gave up, and I just talked casually with her. I tried to divide my attention amongst all my friends. My attention to her started to slack, and it wasn't until after Tyler told me about her being in foster care that I realized what I had been missing.

She would stand in the hallway and just talk and talk with Skyler right up to the bell, when she was forced to come into class, and every time I saw her talking, her manner, her expression, her body language said it all. She was depressed, stressed, and angry. It never dawned on me.

Then there was the picture.

Two days before she was taken to foster care, I took a picture of all my friends because I desperately wanted a memory of us in tenth grade. I didn't know why it had to be in the middle of January, but I felt that I needed to. So I gathered us all together and I got a picture. I was going to edit them after school, but I got to be too busy, and Wednesday was a very bad day for me.

So it was Thursday, after I heard the news, after Tyler left my house, that I pulled up my pictures and decided to edit them for my friends. I began to cry again as I stared at Erica's blank, somber face in the picture.

She's at the far left, the one apart from everyone else. I feel so lucky to have at least gotten a picture of her before she was gone.

Tyler keeps telling me he thinks it's not going to last, and that she'll come back, but I know that won't be for a while. If at all.

Now I get to go over to Patty's house and try to get my books back from her before she touches any of Erica's stuff. If something happens to "Clockwork Angel", I'm gonna be pissed off.

Nobody likes being woken up... The alarm clock is an exception.

I wonder what's worse? Holding in your anger until you think you might explode, or exploding in anger to superiors and parents? Both of them are pretty bad...but the first one seems less dangerous.

I mean, it really began when I finished my online homework and went downstairs, my abdomen throbbing with pressure and pain. I fell asleep like that; holding my stomach as though I could clench my internal organs and massage them back to normal.

As my title explains, I'm sure no one likes to just be woken up, unless it's a necessary procession to get to school. Well, I was awoken by none other than my brother Tyler, who by this time in my life, I've grown to be very sick of. It's harsh to say, but it's a true fact. I've dealt with him since the moment he was born. That's fourteen years and a half.

Anyway, I was awoken for dinner, and to also do dishes after dinner.

I've illustrated my loathing for dishes in many different blog posts, but I think this time has got to be one of those worse times. Mainly because I was rudely awaken.

Whenever I'm angry, I have this raw attitude that I almost never feel or display, but when I do feel them, my thoughts usually go like this:

If you don't want to rinse off these f***ing dishes, then I don't want to wash these f***ing dishes. 

Well if you want to use unnecessary bowls while you cook, that's fine, I just won't wash them. 

But in the end, I always obediently carry out the full task, despite how I feel. I get a sense of accomplishment when I finish a big task like the chore, or when I complete a fairly laborious project. So I always do my best, no matter what.

I have to scrub off dried food such as cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, cooked on bread, and dried spaghetti sauce with hot water. This first step takes a good 3/4 of my hot water. I do this first because I have this extreme pet peeve. If the soapy water is tainted even a tiny bit, it won't do and I'll freak out. So there. Then I have to fill up the sink, using the rest of my hot water. Now I'm down to lukewarm water and the washing, which I usually take in categories of dishes. So glasses first, bowls, plates, miscellaneous, big pots and pans, then the most laborious of all; utensils.

Drying kills me. I hate drying the dishes and putting them away. I don't know why, but I just do. I suspect it might be the transition from wet hands to dry, weird hands while I work with the dishes.

Lastly, I get to scrub furiously at the counters for the dried milk, cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, bread crumbs, and dried spaghetti sauce. Sweeping comes next, which is my stress reliever at the end. It's more relaxing than you think. SOO much easier. It's like heaven after what I had to do. It's fun too!

It doesn't help when your father cooks that night and uses a huge popcorn bowl to hold the spaghetti when the pan could have held it, and when he uses a glass mixing bowl to hold the spaghetti sauce when the pan could have held it, and when he splatters sauce all over the stove and counter, and when he uses a bowl to hold the ground turkey after it's been cooked when he could have used the plate he cooked it on to hold it. You know, simple things like that would make me a happier camper than my dark, angry attitude I always obtain when I do the dishes.

It's also difficult when you finish the dishes, and the kitchen is looking spotless, and five minutes later your brother comes in to use a cup, or your father comes in to make his ten o' clock snack and gets yogurt all over the counter and sink and uses fifty dishes to do it.

That's when I want to shoot myself.

It's during those times when I begin to get a painful knot in my neck. It must be from stress, I'm sure, but I've figured out why. Basically, I try to do my best yet do it quickly, so I end up rushing myself and feeling stressed out because I have so many other things I have to do to finish the task. Same thing goes for work, since there's so much to do at work and so little time to get it done in. It's not necessarily the overall day for me. Just the tasks. I've probably had quite a few knots in my neck this past month. If I ever get a massage, it's going to be one painful motherf***er.

But, I should be thankful. Working at a food shop grants me the ability to avoid doing dishes on the days that I work, thus eliminating my normal chore amount from "Normal" to "Below normal".

I still hate the chore, though.

I've decided that when I become the mother of my own household, and even when I'm living with a boyfriend or whatever, I'm going to make the rule that if you don't rinse off your plate and stack them neatly in categorized piles, YOU'RE doing them. Not me. It's going to be a habit engraved into their minds. Their cooking habits will be clean and precise as well, I'll make sure of it. They'll clean as they cook, not let the kitchen explode in their wake and not clean it up.

And.obviously I'm going to buy a nice dishwasher. None of this Maytag shit that these rental houses have. THAT is ridiculous.

Mindy

P.S. It's hard to have a happy face while doing the dishes, so whenever my dad asks me "Oh Mindy, what's wrong?" I have the hardest time in refraining from yelling. I try my hardest to calmly say, "You won't like what I have to say, so I'd rather not be disturbed." But I might end up yelling, so if I don't post for at least a month, you should worry.

The Random Beginning for 2012

So this is my first blog post for 2012. As far as I can remember, that is, because I don't exactly remember writing anything on here after New Years, though I might have.

Anyway, I'm sure you guys like to hear news, despite it being good or bad. My news? The end of the term is tomorrow! And I've finally gotten past the frightfully laborious projects and assignments assigned by my know-it-all teachers. I learned a valuable skill over Christmas break, and that is NOT to procrastinate. I watched first hand as Pepe the Lovely tried to hurriedly get her book review done before the next class period. I didn't even get to draw a picture for her. :'(

During math today, I drew comics. I'll take pictures of them and show you how much I hated my Algebra I teacher!

I also thought about something today in the same class period, and expressed it in comic form. I don't have anything against them, and it's not a refined idea, but it's just something I thought of when I listened to a handicapped student talk with a really nerdy student today in class.

And to think that comics are related to the end of the term. I suppose when you think about it, the end of the term just makes you want to find a stress reliever as quick as possible, and it might be rude in some way. It's a good thing I'll probably, hopefully, most likely never see Mr. Chruma again. Hopefully. I pray.

I'm a licensed driver now, which means I can drive all by myself in the car and go wherever I would like that isn't a two hour drive. I have nowhere to go. :\ Except work, which will be cool to drive myself to work. I'm still waiting for my official plastic license to come in the mail. They're taking forever to get it to me! I'm shocked at how long it takes to print a plastic card with a few words and a picture on it. (My picture, by the way, makes me look like I'm in jail or something, which is sad. The woman took the picture really quick and I forgot to smile.)

It's way cool as well, because I wrote a letter to the one who carries letters. You know who that is? That's right. I wrote a letter to my mailman and he responded. His name is P.J. apparently. Cool, eh? I thanked him sarcastically for delivering mail better than the UPS or E-mail, and then I thanked him gratuitously for bringing me the Supernatural series in the mail. He quickly responded, "Thank you for the nice note, and yes, the house is definitely blue." Did I mention my mother and I have an ongoing war about what color my house is? It's totally blue.

Now I've gotten thinking about Supernatural. Have you seen Supernatural? It's a good series, especially since I get to look at these guys all the time:

ESPECIALLY JENSEN ACKLES. Ah. That hottie.

I assume you might be wondering what the heck Supernatural is about...and I don't really feel like summarizing it. I just want to stare at him now. You can go to their website and look it up or something. Get it through netflix. Do something. Because it's amazing. It's so amazing, that it got my friend Brody in one episode. Yeah. Beat that.

At a Loss for Words (and Time)

Christmas has come and passed. Simple as that. I'd rather not bore you with the specifics of my Christmas, since it's all basically the same thing every year. Parties, Presents, Sleep, More Presents, then Laziness and grumpy parents trying to figure out the toys. Is it like that at your house? Okay, so maybe I made that sound really negative. I liked my presents, I really did, even if it wasn't that much.

For the past few Christmases I've gotten very little, since money (Like most families) is a little bit tight. I'm not fazed by it. In fact, I appreciate those Christmases much more than those with a bunch of expensive toys and candy. The best part of this Christmas was that we got to spend Friday night with people we love. It was a nice change from relatives relatives relatives every year.

Of course, this post wasn't aimed to be just about Christmas. I figured it'd be nice of me not to lay on the Christmas Summary too heavily.

How many people do you know have a good attitude about life? Don't be afraid to answer that question and tell it to your computer screen. I'm sure quite a few people do. Now how many people do you know have a good attitude about life and show it in cheerfulness every single day? Not very many. Why do you think this is? I vie to do that every day, but sometimes things just get the better of me. All the time I tell myself I won't be a grouch when I come home from work, but I end up being one anyway. Is it really because all my energy is gone? Or I just feel like being a brat because I had to come home? I tell myself I won't be this, or I won't be that, and I try so hard not to be. I tell myself that I have enough energy, no matter what it was that I had done before. I tell myself a lot of things, obviously, and 94% of the time it works.

Pep-talks increase self-worth a lot, but no one really sits down and does that for themselves. We're either too busy working, judging, being lazy, or being distracted, when what we really need is to sit down and think. How many people do you know sit down and think about themselves or about life? Do they sit? Do they write? Do they vent to you? If you know none at all....then maybe you need to make some changes around you. Because if you don't do that for yourself as well, and take notice of the problems or interesting habits around you, you won't turn out to be the very best person you can be.  

I come across as a very deep, thoughtful person when I write, and a very cheerful little ball of energy when I'm at school and work. When I'm at home, I'm either mellow, sarcastic and observant, or hard-working. We all have our other side when we're in different settings, and I challenge you to find a good time and place to become the person who reflects on things they haven't reflected on before. Whether that be meditation, a hobby of some sort, or a person you hang out with, it's easier said than done.

Sometimes I just want to write like a shallow teenager and say how in love I am with this one guy. But I don't.