Saturday, July 07, 2001

Why, oh Why?

i'm a pixie, i'm a paperdoll
i'm a cartoon, i'm a cheerfull free for all
and i light up a room
i'm the color me happy girl

Earlier today: mom:Brittany, clean your room. me: Okay mom: Do you hear me? me:I said okay! mom:Oh that's right, you always say 'okay'.
Why does she have to do that? We could have just left it at clean your room and okay. Instead she has to go and be stupid. I mean, I'm all for insults and PMS and being a bitch and bitching people out, but usually they deserve it. Or at least sorta deserve it. I fucking said 'okay' and she's like waaa-waaa-waaa. (y'know, from Peanuts)

So I went running today. I ran for 16.5 minutes, a mile and a half. On Monday I go running with my cross country team, it'll be the first time, so we'll have to see how I do. I'm a little scared that I won't do well...but I figure I can't be the worst, write? And I come home and my mom starts asking me if I ate the casadillas and I said no I hadn't and she told me to eat them. I asked her why. And she told me that she and my dad had gotten an upset stomache from the casadillas so they wanted me to eat them and see what I thought. That's fucking bullshit. She wants me to eat them so *my* stomache hurts. Well my brother ate them and was just fine. If they don't want to eat my food they don't have to, I don't force it down their throats. If they don't want to eat it they can get their asses in the kitchen and make their own dinner. Lest you think I'm a bad cook, I'm not. I'm excellent. No really I am.

So...I have an obsession for Ani Difranco. It's just a teeny tiny one, compared to some of my other obsessions, but one nonetheless. I can't help it, she's so beautiful to me, and her voice and her lyrics are just...magical, almost. I used to want to be a psychiatrist. I wanted to be a psychiatrist for a long long time, but now I can't help but want something more than that. I just want to reach and touch so many people, and make them smile and laugh and cry, and I want to help them and make a difference in their lives. But I can't help but think being a psychiatrist isn't enough. I won't reach enough people, and I won't make the difference I want to. I want to feed my creativity while I help people. I'd love to be a great writer, or artist, or dancer, or just something, or someone, I'm not sure what or who. I think of photographs and paintings that have made me cry; and I think of the books I've read that I couldn't get out of my head for days until I have to read and read and read them again; and I think that all the art I've seen has effected me. Hopefully made me a better person. I've seen a collection of Van Gough portraits so close that I could reach out and touch them if I wanted to. I've just seen and read and done so many things, and I think they've all helped me in some way. I want to be that for someone, for hundreds and thousands of someones. *sigh* Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself.Pixie

Just Hypnotise Me

they said,
which one is different?
it does not belong
they taught me different is wrong

So, I'm working to redesign my whole website, and soon it'll be at so there. It's actually turning out really cool, but I'm cheating. Shhh. I'm using Yahoo Page Builder to make my site how I want it. Then we're going to take the source code, and put that on my wantonhussy page, therefore making them the same without me having to go through html. I'm sure I *could* do it, but I just have too much stuff to want to do it that way. I've enlisted the help of my brother, who is being very cool about helping me.

So, are you a curious goo, wondering what the hell my little title means? Well...I was do I feel? Well, I feel lethargic. But I didn't want to use that word, so I looked it up in the thesurus and it gave me somnifacient. I had to look that up in the dictionary, and it said "tending to produce sleep; hypnotic". Not quite what I was looking for, but I do like the word hypnotic, and I do with someone would hypnotise me. I've been listening to Ani Difranco on an internet radio station all day, and yeah...that sorta explains it.

Blah blah blah. I'm just going to go now, yeah...Pixie

Just A Silly Bubble Gum Girl

"i'm only 5 foot 2 and i'm giggly, wiggly"
"i think shy is boring"

I just realize that I must sound like a silly Bubble Gum Girl. So I feel that I should make a distinction here, because I'm not a Bubble Gum Girl. I do enjoy pop music, every now and then. But I don't think that that's my fault. If you take any sort of jazz or hip hop class then you're going to hear pop music, unless you have a kickass sexy jazz teacher named Joey who gives you music like Sarah Brightman. As someone who desperatly tries to choreograph little combinations, I realize that Ani Difrance kicks ass, however, it's hard to choreograph to her music. So I do have a weird taste for pop music.

But, I don't want my blog to sound like I just worry about my hair, or how much clothing I own, or what people think of me, or how 'cute' a boy is, because I'm more than that. I love my hair, I cut it off myself when I was in 7th grade and I'm very very happy that I did that. Because now I realize how much I'd rather have long hair, and now I take care of it better. I don't really care about how many outfits I have, I just want to have interesting clothes. I saw a girl once, she was walking down the hallway in Doc Martins, a black skirt, and a striped top. She had her head shaved except for two little pieces of bangs. My friends and I just stopped talking, and watched her walk away. Because her style kicked so much ass, and that's all I want to do. I just want people to stop and stare at me. Not in a 'you're a babe' way, or in a 'you're a skank' way, but in a 'man, you kick ass' kind of way. So I don't worry so much about my clothes, but rather what clothing I have. I try not to think about what people think of me, but I do care. It's not people so much, but the people I care about. I don't want the friends that I love to think bad things about me, I want them to think that I'm slinkster cool, the same way I think of them. And as much drama I have about Joe and S. and everyone, my blog would be boring without it.

Would you like to hear about how many dishes I washed today? And what I made for dinner? And how I worry about what I'll cook tomorrow? Even if you did want to hear it, I wouldn't want to tell you, because that's boring. When I look back on my entries, I want to smile and laugh and feel the same tugs on my heart and soul I felt when I wrote them, I don't want to think about all the boring day-to-day shit I had to do.

So, I'm writing this because I don't want you to think I'm a Silly Bubble Gum Girl. There's not *really* anything wrong with that, not my flavor of choice but...I don't want you to think I am. This comes up because I want to talk up about how I look. I did put up my picture, because I'm that vain, but I've been thinking about looks lately. About faces and colors and textures, and what makes a person beautiful. Right now I feel pretty. I took a shower earlier this afternoon, my hair is clean and soft, it brushes against the waistband of my pants, and it makes me feel pretty. I looked into the mirror, at my honey-colored eyes, and thought maybe they are the right size for my face. Because I have a delicate face, I think. I can't explain it, but my face looks soft sometimes, soft and delicate, with my eyes and my nose and my lips. So I feel pretty write now, and cute. This is unusual for me. I could weigh less, but I could weigh more. I'm not going to disclose my weight here, but it's in the above average weight for my height of 5 foot 3. I really think it must be muscle or something becasue I don't think I *look* like that. I usually tell people I weigh 10 or 15 lbs less than I do, and they usually say that I look like I weigh less than that! 35-27-38, I hardly think that that's fat, although short people do tend to be skinnier. But, according to Delias, I wear size 9, which is usually considered fat.

But I didn't write this to talk about my weight and how society wants me to think that I'm fat. I'm just writing about what makes a person beautiful. I think Jessica is beautiful. She's so tall and skinny, whith a cute turned up nose, and an amazing smile, with long shimmery honey hair. And I think Angie is beautiful, with her shaved head and septum piercing. And I think that Jason and Frances Sands are beautiful. With her dreads and piercings and tatoos and implants, and he is with his hair and his eyes. And Danny was beautiful in his Anchor Blue way. With his bleach blonde hair, and moony skin, and blue eyes and soft lips (that I never kissed!). He sort of looked like that green guy on Tiny Toons. The little green lemming? Yeah him. And he was beautiful.

They're all so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at them, because they just radiate. But...they're all so different. And I know people who thought Danny looked weird, and who think the Sands are freaks, so why are they beautiful to me? And who am I beautiful to? I really do wonder, who am I beautiful to? Who thinks I'm goddessy, and who thinks I'm just cute, and who thinks I look a little funny? And do I really want to know? Pixie

Friday, July 06, 2001

Maybe Just a Confusing Non-Toy?

Oh fuck yeah, I'm an HTML queen. Okay not quite. Danny did help me out a little bit. The first picture is me. The one on the bottom you dumbass, I'm not a dog. I'm sitting in front of a gallery in San Francisco, it had Picasso's in it, so if course I fell in love, and my dad is a foogball (read: goofball) and decided to take a picture. So now you can worship me :)

The second picture is Sofia The Wonder Pug . She's the pug of a very lovely lady *cough cough* Mz Scarlet *cough cough*. Did you hear something? No? Me either.'s been a few hours, you must be wondering what's going on with Joe. And even if you're not, there is new information. Information that leaves dispair. In dispair because I'll never know what's really going on. Well, I talked to Fairy Chick. She is a very talkative little bird that always knows everything, and always tells everything, so I love talking to her. One of her boyfriends, Trevor, is Joe's best friend. She was talking to Trevor on the phone when we were talking out...and survey says that:
*Joe is chicken shit and really really likes me, not just as a plaything
*Joe is an idiot and says he never quite knows what he wants, but he really really likes me
*Joe is a boy cherry (read: virgin)
*Don't put out for Joe for a long long time

None of these were my opinion, by the way. So...I agree he's chickenshit, and an idiot, and this little not knowing what he wants thing is confusing, but it is good to hear. The fact that he's a cherry is a big surprise. Like, jaw dropping on the floor kind of surprise. But after I picked my jaw up off the floor I gave my computer screen a little smile, because that's good to hear. And the last point...well that's a duh!!! with any guy. my Blue Bird told me once "Brittany, your life is like a soap opera without the drugs, sex, or murder". And I leave you with that statement...Pixie
A Cute Pug
Sexy girl

A New Toy

So, I talked to my uncle. He is my boy talk decoder, because he himself was once a silly boy. And we decided that one of two things is going on with Joe...Scenario #1: he want you and only you, but has waited to long.....maybe he wants to see how far he can get with you...after all it was a tender speech....and after he is done with you...who knows how much time he is willing to invest...he'll bring it back he doesn't know what he wants.... And, Scenario #2: maybe it was easier for him to say he doesn't know what he wants...and thought about it...and decided, it might be a rough ride..for whatever reason.....maybe he has personal issues and such....but he is willing to try to make it work....cause he digs you and doesn't want to miss this chance with you.

So we start to think and talk and analyze. Joe said "I can't believe I've waited so long". Well, I've only known him for three months. Three whole months. And for a period of time I don't remember, he was with Sarah and we didn't talk at all. So...he hasn't really waited that long. So we tend to think that Scenario #1 is more realistic. Unfortunatly. But...I don't mind being a toy, and I don't mind having toys. He's cute, and would make a very good toy. A verrrrryyyy good toy. He would make a better boyfriend, but..I digress. So, I'm just going to run with it and see where it takes us. And hey, it'll probably be at least a little bit entertaining to you people, and that's what I'm here for right? I'm your dancing monkey. Well...I have to go. More later

And Six Hours Later

he may be long gone,
but i still remember the
way his eyes glowed intensely,
under the full moon,
and the way his mouth moved,
to form the words he said.
and the way he pulled me closely,
to explain it all to me,
but most of all, i remember
his strong hands,
and the way the taste of his kisses
lingered on my lips,
if i have all the answers,
why am i still confuse?'re wondering whats that all about, aren't you? It's about how fucking confused I am. I think I use the word 'fuck' too much, but it's a good word. It gets across emotions very quickly, it sets a mood. I snuck out last night, because Joe could go out. I wrote about it before I left, and asked myself "am I willing to risk what little freedom I have left for a boy who doesn't even like me?" And I was. Because even if he doesn't like me (although...why go through all the trouble to try to figure out a way to sneak me out if he didn't like me?), I still like him. And I still hope against all hope that maybe one day something will come of it.

So I got out with no problemo, and he was walking up just as I rounded the corner. We went to his truck, and drove to the park. The park with all my memories. Maybe I subconciously try to make things happen at that park, just so I'll have all the memories in one place. So, now there's another memory there, for me to pick up and look at when I feel the need. And we just talked...about everything. About his trip, and why he moved to Vegas, and why he does/doesn't like it here. And I laughed because another memory was being made. I mentioned how I had so many memories here, and he asked for one, so I told him about CJ and Sperm Girl. Yeah...and an hour later it was almost time for him to go home, so we drove and parked a few streets away from my house. We got out of the car, and talked and acted silly, until he got serious, and told me something. His hat was on backwards, and he looked into my eyes and said it slowly, with all serious, and my heart was about to explode into fireworks. Because it was a movie-moment. There was an almost-full moon outside, just above his head, covered by clouds. The grasshoppers were singing and the birds were chirping, and everything glowed. And he said to me "Brittany, I've liked you since the first day we were together. You and I were so similar, you reminded me of me. You were different though, and had your own style, and that's what I liked about you, because at the time I thought I had my own style too. I have never wanted someone, one person, in so many ways as I do with you. I want to be with you, and only you, and I can't believe that I waited this long to do something about it." Is that or is that not movie worthy? But in six hours he decided all this? Six hours.

And I'm confused, more confused than I was before I asked him where we stood. Because before, we stood no where. In a place where he didn't know what he wanted or when. And now we stand in a completely different place, in a place where he says he wants me yet we're not together. So I have to ask, what does he want from me, and how did he decide so fast? What changed in those six hours? Pixie

Thursday, July 05, 2001

Don't Ask A Question, Unless You Want To Hear The Answer

Fucken ay. I just wrote this whole long thing and fucking blogger deleted it. I'm so very pissed off. Well, basically I said not to ask questions unless you want to know the answers. Because I decided to ask Joe what's going on between us, and he asked me what I wanted. I told him that I wanted to go out with him, and be more than just people who hook up. Then I asked him what he wanted. He told me I thought I did, but now I don't know. Now you got me all thinking about stuff or something to that effect, because now thanks to blogger, I don't know the exact quotes. And basically the bottom line is that stuff is going on at his house, and we don't see each other that much, and that's no fun, so...while he does want something, he doesn't know what he wants or when. And I basically said that I would be there for him, for a while at least. He said that if I didn't want to talk to him anymore, I just had to say it and he would leave me alone. But...just because I was shot down is no reason or me not to talk to him. I still talk to a lot of my exes, actually. Probably because I was the one to break up with most of them, so there weren't any hard feelings from my side :D. Hey, I went down kicking, right S.? So why do I feel like shit right now? I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have asked, because I didn't really want to know.I only wanted to know his answer if it would be the one wanted to hear. I saw him today...he was in the area so we went and hung out for a half hour. When we were hugging bye he told me to call him because he felt stupid being the only one to call. I left that with a smile on my face, feeling good and happy .But, that wasn't enough, because I wanted more. And now I have...well, basically nothing. Which isn't so bad, it's what I started out with, sorta. I shouldn't be surprised really. I'm almost three years younger than him, he'll be a senior next year, I'll be a sophmore. I act like a goofy little kid most of the time...we don't talk that much, we don't see each other that much...why did I expect something would come out of it? Ehh...because he made me smile, and he made me laugh and feel happy. But, maybe it's for the best, because now I can work on getting over him, which is something that I never did. I wasn't over him from when we first met and he went out with Sarah.

But I still feel like shit. I went to weight training, and my mom finally brought up youth group. She's not convinced that I'm bi, and she thinks I don't know what I am, which was expected. But I am tired...and I feel I'll have to leave that story for next time. I need more adjectives, because I think I say icky too much.
Gosh gosh I just feel gross. I finished reading all of Gen's archives. She's in love with this guy Beaux, and I wish I had that with someone. Someone to curl up with and call and squiggle toes with and make silly jokes and silly nicknames with. And then I started thinking of CJ and the pool. I see the pool every day when I go running at the park, so many memories of pools. Half my life was spent at them. Five summers worth of synchro practices, three summers worth of swim team practices, the hours spent there while Sperm Girl lusted over Roope, who she got anyway. The first time I saw nipple piercings (it was on my MALE swim coach, don't get funny ideas now, this was when I was a kid). The first places I won in synchro and breastroke. And the second and third and fourth and all my ribbons. All my meets, all my crushes. Everytime I run past the pool I dread seeing someone I know. For you see, when you've been on the same teams for five years you get to know everyone. I wonder which gaurd is Andy's little brother, and if Sperm Girl is there, and I wonder if there's a chance CJ or Roope will be there. I know they won't be, they gaurd at different pools, but there is always that chance. And I see the swim team practice, I've yet to see the synchro team, but I suppose that's for the better because I really do think I'd start to cry. I fell in love at that pool. Well, not really the pool, at the park around it. I used to spend nine hours a day there. Seriously. We'd get there at noon when Roope started his shift. At 5:30 we'd have synchro for an hour, an hour break, and then an hour of swim team. I met Dee at that pool, and Steven. I never got to say goodbye to him. I promised that I would see him before he moved to Oklahoma. I feel bad about that. I"m such an asshole. I remember my last meet. It was miserable. Probably because I knew that it was my last meet, and even if I did make it to All Stars I couldn't swim because I was going on vacation. I did horribly. My coaches were jackasses that decided to switch me out of butterfly and into backstroke. I had never, in three years of swim team, done backstroke in a meet outside of IM. But they thought I could do it. My own coach disqualified me. Okay, I should explain about my coaches. There was Roope and another guy, I think his name was Cliff or something like that. Roope had been my coach for the previous two years, and half of that summer, but then Cliff came and he became our coach. But Roope was always our (me and Sperm Girl, of course) coach in our hearts. So...anyways, Cliff disqualified me in backstroke for 'pulling on the lane lines'. I came in last place anyway. I thought Roope would blow his top. I almost wish he had, I was so angry. Of course that was my first race which just threw me off. Then I had breastroke, I came in fourth place. That's my stroke. I always get first. ALWAYS. Then I had freestyle, I came in second to last. Then I had IM, I came in second to last. I started to cry. Dee's dad tried to console me and told me sometimes the universe was just off...and it was. And that's the last time I competed. The next summer I was in Boston, and this summer I'm just not doing it. So, I'm obviously nervous about joining the swim team this year, but I can't bring myself to swim yet. I can't start training just yet.

And then I think of the park. The park where I met Brandon for the first time in four years. We walked around the track for four hours. I fell in love with CJ there. I held onto him for hours there. He broke my heart there. I broke his heart there. I kissed Brian F. there. I hung out with Sperm Girl and Jason (football player) and Galen and Pat and Brian F. there. I kissed Nick there. I said goodbye to Nick there. I laughed there, and I cried, and I wonder how I feel about that park. I'm really not sure.

So...I've just been very nostalgic and sad lately. And I decided hey, just for fun lets count up my scars. 63 I have. I counted one scar for every letter I have, because I don't really know another way to do it. That doesn't count the scars that have faded away, or the scars that I've scarred over. All the scars I have, except for a very few, I've done in the past six months. So, that doesn't include the scars I've had over the past 4 and a half years. I almost wish it did. And then I wish they were gone. I don't know. I feel sad. It's only been 10 days since I last cut, which makes me feel quite inadequate. I wish I could say that it's been 45, it would have been if I hadn't screwed up.

I just want someone to kiss my freckles. Pixie

Wednesday, July 04, 2001

I should write now before I'm too tired to write, and don't get out all the feelings that I want to.I joined two cliques. I always thought online cliques were stupid, but now I want just a few under my belt. So one is a fairie ring, and I've declared myself Fairie of the Mist (the best I could come up with...) and the I Kiss Girls one. I checked out a few members of that one and I like it. I'm obsessive about online diaries. It's kind of bad how into I am with some people's lives. I tell their stories as "this person I know...". Well I do know them, they just don't know me.
***One is Gen. She's a former anorexic, cutter, and burner. She loves Ani Difranco and Francesca Lia Block. She listens to PJ Harvey. I wasn't planning on actually *reading* any of the pages I visited, but...she had a picture. The middle picture on her page is a picture I recently found and fell in love with. So I had to read.
***The next one is...I think her name is Jeni. I'm not really sure. People don't usually say their own names in their journals. She's just interesting, I don't really know why I'm drawn to her. She has great layouts that change often, and she loves the book The Perks of Being A Wallflower.
***Another person I fell in love with was pamie, from Unfortunatly, she's ending her diary, after 3 years, so...that's a bummer. She was a funny girl, she made me laugh until I cried.
***Two people are people that I volunteer with at One is Danny, who is a goofy kid who makes me laugh, once again I need to stop calling him a kid, he's 22. You can find him at And lemming. I remember she used to ::smirk:: at me a lot, and that always just made me smile. I finally checked out her diary, which she doesn't update enough, and she's a great gal with amazing writing skills.

I need to stop doing this...I spend too many hours on the computer as it is, but I can't help it. I really can't okay? Okay. I should adress that today is the fourth of July. I'm not very patriotic, I will say that. And I dread holidays where my family is involved. But, there was good food, even if I had to cook it all :p Artichokes, corn on the cob, steak, baked potatoes, strawberry pie, watermelon. Yummy stuff. My aunt Brenda came over, so did my aunt Joan and her son Angel, and my aunt Cholita and her roomate Feliz (who is unbelievably funny and entertaining!).

I didn't really want to go running today, I thought I would feel sick from all the food I ate, but actually I did really well. I was pretty fast and I could just feel the goodness in my bones. Until too many people lit fireworks at the park and there was so much smoke it was hard to breathe. These people are so fucking retarded it pisses me off. You'd think that they wouldn't light fireworks at a public park, much less illegal fireworks. Some people were doing it right on the track! Dumbasses. Right...I was wondering where do people see fireworks if they don't live in Vegas? Because in Las Vegas almost every casino does a firework show. Literally. You can see fireworks from almost any part of the valley because the Stratosphere (very tall skinny casino) did fireworks and so they're high enough for almost everyone to see. So...if you don't live in Vegas, where do you go to see the fireworks? I know in Boston they did some right over the River, but what about everyone else? If you live outside of Vegas or Boston, tell me where you went to see the fireworks. I'm not joking, e-mail me ( because I was wondering all while I was running.

Cholita found my Rickie Lee Jones (Pop Pop) CD, and I'm quite happy about that. I own very few CDs, just because I'm cheap. But I think I'm going to start buying some, because I like having CDs around, and MP3s can only be on your comp, or your MP3 player, which I lack.

Today Joe called, and I had my hands full so I couldn't get the phone and he left a message. My mom listened to it and was like "hey by the way, who is Joe?" and I'm like a friend from school you know. And she's like "oh really? is he in classes with you or waht?" and I was just like nope, I met him through Giselle and Andrea (a lie..but..) and she's like "he doesn't happen to hang out in the theater on the breaks, does he?" and of course I told her no. I don't get it. She's read my e-mail, she knows I'm not the best kid so why does she continue to think that my friends pressure me into everything that I've done? I've never done anything because my friends wanted me to do it. She knows that I think peer pressure is an excuse. In actuality, I pressured my friends into taking half naked pictures. Well not really, I wouldn't have made them do it if they really didn't want to, but they were just shy, not adverse to it really. So...I find it amusing that she thinks my friends made me do it, but annoying too because they didn't, and now she questions all my friends.

Well...I might see CJ this weekend. I don't know. How do I put this and make it family friendly? Ehh...I've been suffering from a low libido lately. Yes that's it, very low. I took care of it but I haven't really been up to anything. So...maybe CJ will solve that. I don't really know. I don't know what I should do. He's quite selfish when it comes to these things, but it's nice to be worshipped. Yes this sounds horrible, but he makes me feel good. He thinks I'm amazing for some reason I haven't figured out. Maybe he just thinks I'm amazing for talking to him after the shit he pulled on me. Yes that may be it.

So...that's it mainly. Fairie Chick will come to weight training tomorrow, yay. She says she has a lot to talk to me about, but...alas, nothing about Joe. I hate this feeling, of not knowing where I stand. I really have no clue. Does he think of me as a friend? As a little sister? As a possible sex toy? As a possible girlfriend? It's driving me crazy...Pixie

Tuesday, July 03, 2001

Oy oy, I saw Craig today! I love that kiddo. So...we walk into the gym, and what do we find? "GO C H S, GO C H S". That's right, the gym was covered with maybe 40 girls from the freshman, JV, and Varsity cheerleading teams. A slight bummer. Fairy Chick didn't show up today, so it was just me, Craig, Ann, and Sandra. Sandra is a person who doesn't seem to really like people, this is especially true of the cheerleaders. I just wanted to tell her to shut up, but...I'm not going to get involved. She already doesn't like me. I was very very hyper. Maybe that's what happens when you only have 3 hours of sleep. They should have killed me, they really should have because I was just that annoying, lol. So, the cheerleaders cheered and we went up into the weight room.

I should probably explain my mixed feeling towards the cheerleaders. You see, I was supposed to be one. Yes, I was supposed to be popular. You know how in the movies how they find some silly girl and decide she's going to be the next IT GIRL and basically make her into that? The cheerleaders tried to do that to me. I've always been on friendly terms with Nicole, because she was on my dance team in seventh grade and in many of my classes.This year she encouraged me to try out for the team, and I was going to do it. I even had my physical done and my athletic packet ready. In the end I didn't, because I knew that I wouldn't get along with the cheerleaders. In the begining of the school year Nicole tried to get me to hang out with her crowd on the breaks, and sit next to them in our classes, and even somehow got my home phone number and invited me to the church youth group. Trust me, these popular people are not the church going kind, but it's just the "thing to do" and so everyone does it. She even went so far as to assure me she had an appropriate outfit for me, and had arranged a ride for me. Man, that was almost stalkerish. That meant she knew what size clothes I wear (although on a dance team your secrets are no measurements since you're constantly being measured for costumes and such, but that was two years ago!), and knew where I lived.

Weird. We were still on friendly terms, even though I never ended up going to youth group or anything like that with her. A lot of the football players had been my friends back in the day of sixth and seventh grade, and so we still talked and some of them even *liked* me. I kid you not when I say Nicole and Jason (football Jason) went so far as to arrange a boyfriend for me to have. No joke. It was all this big plan to up my status and I wasn't even aware that it was going on. And all this continued until the day I wore my fairie wings to school. I suppose they could deal with my big baggy pants, and the weird friends I insisted on having, and the strange guys I liked, but they couldn't work with a girl who wore fairie wings to school.

And so they talked to me less and less. I was still planning on being a cheerleader (I say being because if I tried out I would have made it, I'm not concieted, I just know what I'm capable of) until the day of tryouts. I don't know what made me not go. I just didn't. I claimed that it was because the games would get in the way of my dance classes, since both were in the evenings, but that wasn't really it. My new friends would stick by me, even if I was an evil cheer girl, but...I didn't do it. And I don't regret it. I became nostalgic today when I saw them sitting around, giggling and stretching, because I miss that about my dance team, I really really do. But, even though my friends would accept me for being a cheerleader, I know the cheerleaders wouldn't accept me for being an outsider. Someone who wouldn't go to games unless forced to, someone who had previously only stayed for pep ralley's when I couldn't find a ride home, someone who wasn't blonde, who wasn't straight, and who didn't give a fuck about what other people thought of me. The cheerleaders couldn't deal with that, I know.

Also, there would be some girls on the varsity and freshman team that I used to dance with, and we weren't on the best terms. Although if I had been popular like the plan, all would have been forgotten, I'm sure. So that's my little story, of how I could have been a cheerleader. For better or worse. But I still have kickass toetouches.
It's 7:42 AM right now. Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen a single digit in the first part of a clock that wasn't followed by a PM. Well, since last Thursday. I've had three hours of sleep. Let me repeat that again: I ONLY HAD THREE HOURS OF SLEEP. And then I got my ass out of bed and mowed the lawn. Oh you're thinking, how pleasant, a nice little morning mow, eh? I just called, and It's already 102 degrees. That's Farenheit. That's too hot. I'm going to weight training, I'm not going to let myself take a nap. I won't. And then I go running tonight. It's utter torment, I hate it. This week is too hard.

My mom and I got into a big fight yesterday. Big big fight. She basically called me a freeloading unopinionated brat (haha, ya'll know I'm very opinionated, I just happen to think that people should be able to go to the fucking grocery store without being judged on what they're wearing! Which is what started the whole discussion). I called her an ever reapeating bitch. Or something like that. I always have good comebacks in my head, but when it comes down to it I don't remember till five minutes later. It's a curse. But it's true, she has a few opinions and she just throws them around all the time, ever repeating. As demonstrated at the grocery store. My mom said "You know what I'd do if I ruled the world?" and I told her exactly what she'd do. She talks about this all the time. Blah blah blah. I don't really give a damn about the education system in this country, seeing as I'm college bound and the system is working in my favor. If she wanted to bring up abortion, gay rights, hate crimes against gays, the legalization of pot, music, sell outs, God, organized religion, people being judged on how they look, then I'd be opinionated. But she doesn't care about anything I do, so she'd be bored, and I don't care about anything she does, so I'm always bored.

Be back later...

Monday, July 02, 2001

One of these days I'll write an apology letter to everyone who will have to live with me or know me, and for all the things I'll put them through. Like the constant "should I or shouldn't I cut my hair" battle, and the fact that ever since the first day I hug you you will never ever ever be free of glitter. And I apologize for that, I really do. Which is why I covered Robert in glitter and made him "look like a teletubby". He's gay, he should look like a teletubby! I realize that this blog is probably boring, which is okay because I just write it for me. But I think one of these days I'll have to pull out my fun stories. Like...the first time I smoked pot, and the first time I kissed a girl, and the first time I got drunk, and the first time I took half naked pictures with strategically placed duct tape. And what happened when my parents found those pictures in their shoes. And that time when we all ditched and almost got caught and almost got shot too. Muwahaha. I'm glad I have some fun stories. I'd hate to end up like my mom, who has no fun storeis to tell. She'll lie on her deathbed and say that she got drunk a few short times, never did drugs, and never had any fun times. She grew up too fast. I'm glad I'm not like that, and I'm glad I'll be able to sneak my nieces and nephews off to lunch, look around, and whisper to them of all the fun times I had. And if I don't have any nieces or nephews, then I'll probably share some of those times with my own kids. Because I think that gives you a connection. Hey, we all did stupid stuff, we can talk and joke about it now!

I know, you're thinking that I haven't talked about a weird dream yet. I don't know why I'm having such freaky dreams, you'll have to forgive me. Ms. Freeman, the drama teacher, was doing a play, and one section was a ballet. It was supposed to be an underwater scene, with dancing fish. And I got the lead, as a beautiful mermaid. The only problem was the day of the show I couldn't find my ballet slippers, so we decided I would just do it en pointe (I should remind everyone I'm at least three years short of going on pointe, if I ever do). And we figured I would do it very well. Well, before the show started John was flirting with me (don't bother to remember him, as I'll never talk about him ever in this blog) and we started making out. We ended up in a pool and stuff. Fairy Chick came by and I kissed her (!?!?) before she went on stage. John and I got so distracted that we didn't realize that it was my section going on stage! Ms. Freeman was absolutely frazzled and started yelling at me that it was never too late, there would always be time to be on stage - especially with my ability as a dancer. So I hurried around grabbing a black leo and tights (couldn't find my costume), put on my pointe shoes, and as I was tying the ribbons one came off! I just started to cry, and Ms. Freeman left me because we knew we'd never find a thread and needle and sew it back on before my part ended. And a few demons and fighting for our lives later, I woke up.

I used to have dreams like this a lot. That something would happen and I'd be late and try to figure out a way to get onto stage unnoticed. When you're on a performing dance team where you're doing quick changes in the wings it's a big worry. The worst thing about the dreams were that it was so possible. It could totally happen. I can't count how many times I've realized OH MY GOD I NEED TO CHANGE MY HAIR! with only a few seconds until I had to be on stage. Or I'd do the which-costume-am-I-supposed-to-put-on-now dance in front of my few square feet of space. Or I'd remember last minute that I was supposed to be on the other side of the stage...and when I got their I realized I was supposed to be on the side I started off on! Or I couldn't find a part of my costume and I'd have to decide is it better to go on stage with the wrong costume or to just stay off stage at all. Those moments of heart-pounding decisions. Did I have enough time to take off my shoes, put on socks, and put my shoes back on before I had to go on stage? Or should I just leave the socks off? The icy chill that would come from not knowing what to do.

As contradicting as this may sound, I love dancing, and I love performing, and I miss both with all my heart. Pixie
I'm an angry chick right now. I'm just angry about everything. One of my main anger things is "the war on drugs". Studies show that kids who graduate the DARE program (an anti-drug program taught by police officers in elementary school) are actually more likely to use drugs. Lets consider this, and lets consider me. I was a DARE student just like every other kid in my fifth grade class, and somehow my class was lucky and went through three quite cute officers. Our question box was filled with things like "are you married?" "do you have a girlfriend?" "do you have any kids?". I think maybe we missed the point of DARE. I won two DARE contests. One was the program contest. Yes, yours truly designed our DARE graduation programs. My mom sitll has one in her nightstands, they're both filled with all the awards and prizes my brother and I won. And right next to that program was an essay. Yes, yours truly wrote an essay about why DARE was so great, and why I would never do drugs. I've smoked pot. I know you're saying, "but pixie! You were such a good little DARE student, you only checked out the officers cute butt, eh, three times per class. You were GOOD!" And I've bought pot. And I've smoked it at school. And I think that it should be legal. Because really, who are we kidding? The war on drugs isn't going anywhere. I'm still the honors kid that I was before I smoked pot. I think that it's a decision that everyone has to make for themselves, I smoked it, I enjoyed it, I did it for a while, and that was it. I'm not some druggie because of it. It wasn't the 'doorway' into doing harder drugs, I didn't fall in with the 'bad crowd'. I smoked my pot and that was it. And I think, what if I was caught? If I was caught smoking out in the girls bathroom I would have been expelled from school, I would have gone to juvenile hall and have to be sentanced to some community service and parole time. Just for smoking pot. I'm not goingo to say "oh oh, it grows from the mother earth, it is natural just like corn and carrots". I'm just going to say that I think it should be legal, because pot isn't worth the effort of making it illegal. You can't overdose, and you can't become chemically addicted to it. We should have pot breathalizer tests so you can't drive with a certain amount in your system, and that should be it.
I'm so confused and tired and angry and empty and elated. Like I always have been.

Confused because of S. and Joe and everything... I'm not even going to confuse you guys with explaining how I'm confused.
Tired because I did do my running, and that was very hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Fortunatly I just think of Paco (aka: Craig, who is my little white boy and in no way Paco-ish, but I love giving people nicknames. I always try to think of nicknames for people and I think they're cute. However I end up with ones like DitzyBritzy, BrittBrat (which went along with WhitsBitz, aka: Whitney, aka: Spermgirl), or just Britty. Not too bad, but not incredibly cute). So anyways, I think of Paco and how he's telling me I'm not training enough/hard enough, and I think of how he hasn't ran for like, a year, and didn't finish the cross country season because of his foot problem, and I think of how I'm going to be able to kick his ass. He doesn't agree, but, I know I will. We'll just have to see. On Tuesday he'll be at weight training with me. Let's see how he holds up in the 10 measely laps around the gym or the 5 laps up and down the stairs ehh. No more missus nice pixie. *evil laugh*
Angry for the same reasons I always am. My parents. My family is going to PDL (tiny, non-english speaking town where my abuelos live) while I'm in Boston, but they'll still be gone when I get back, which means unless they can arrange for my ticket to be switched so I'm dropped off in Albequerque (unlikely, I think) then I'll end up with my aunt J. for a few days. My aunt J. and I aren't known for getting along. Her son (who is seven) ONLY behaves when I'm around, and the relationship between her and her husband is tense, to say the least. My brother might be able to stay home alone for this trip, but I won't because "I tell stories". Well I wouldn't have to tell stories if I could trust my parents!
Empty because, well I'm not really sure why. I've just felt kind of ick lately. I need to get out of this funk already! If my mom read this she wouldn't let me read half the books I have because two are about a guy who "is alive but feels dead inside", as my uncle put it. Errr.
Elated because wow! I just got the best compliment! "Hahaha-oh" from chickboards (a place I rarely visit now, it's getting too silly. Everyone just tears each other apart, a death I'm worried scarleteen might face) sent me a private message saying "Hey, I just have to say way to tell a story! i just read your dyke saga story on how you, Fairy Chick,and S. kissed and it was really interesting! you know how to write a story and keep people interested in what you are saying. like when i was reading your story, i felt as if i knew you. i was just like sooo happy that you kissed her, ya was as if i knew you adn was happy for you." For those of you that know that I'm toying with the idea of becoming a writer, then you realize what an awesome compliment this is! Especially considering that my post was a fairly short one and I didn't even think it was that great of a literary work of art. Errr, yeah.

Yeah, I think I'd be a good erotica writer. I can't seem to find any that suit my interests, which is why, I suppose, most writers get started writing. They can't find anything they like. I wonder if I could legally do that, considering I'm 15 and all. It'd be an interesting conversation starter thought "I write erotica, what do you do?". Muwahaha. But seriously, I think it'd be very cool to do. Much like a very cool person I know, love, and admire *cough cough* Mz. Scarlet *cough cough* Pixie

Sunday, July 01, 2001

Blah, Joe called me back last night. Bad idea. I hung up with him after a long while and then Nick and Jason called me! It was like, 1am ya know...after like, half an hour of them being stupid and making me laugh. them: "So Sperm Girl is pregnant...with Bob Doles son...we saw the mamogram. Oh shit it's not a mamogram...the CAT scan?? No that's not it..." me: "sonogram?" them: yeah, so we saw the sonogram and this mother fucker has the biggest head I've ever seen." me: "really?" them: "no. but it was funny wasn't it?" me: "yeah okay, it was". After a little while I suppose I woke up my parents by laughing or something, and my dad comes and knocks on my door and asks if I'm okay, I say yeah and procede to stay on the phone till like, 3:30am. Well apparently this morning my dad was not too happy and woke me up but I wouldn't get out of bed and I said something about going out and he said not unless my chores were done so I can't go out or do anythign really, but I don't remember this and that's whats scary.

See, you don't know my past, so I've gotta tell you. I talk in my sleep. I tend to be brutally honest in my sleep or in my demi-sleepiness (is that a word? well it is now) and say just the wrong things. Especially when I don't remember afterwards. Although this is helpful when I "accidently" let this habit of mine slip when I'm staying the night at someone's house and I need to tell them something but don't want to. I pretend to be asleep, and they ask me questions and I bring up whatever I need to tell 'em, and it never is mentioned again. So...anyways. I remember once I was saving up my money to purchase some, okay I'll just say it, I was going to buy pot. dad woke me up one morning and apparently I was asking him where I had put my money for drugs. When he asked me later on if I had found my money it all came back to me. He didn't mention the drug part, neither did I. So you see, I'm a bit worried about what I said this morning, but ahh well...

I didn't end up going to the movies, although I did talk to S. and I think we'll end up being okay. I don't know how we'll end up being or what we'll end up being, but it'll be okay. Craig called and asked me if I wanted to go to the Taproot concert, which I want to do very much, but tix are 21 bucks, which would leave me with 9 bucks for the week. My mom was just being icky and she and I and my brother were all just in a bad mood so, needless to say I'm not going. Hopefully this week I'll go to the mall and get a long red plaid bondage skirt from Hot Topic...or not, because I just remembered it's 40 bucks. Or was it 30? I don't know. I'll just get something on clearance. Because I only have two outfits to wear with my boots, and I don't really like one of them. Plus I'm going to buy a Scarleteen shirt, whoo whoo.

Tonight I start the most grueling part of my training yet...4 minutes running, 2 1/2 walking. But next week I go back down to 3/2, thank god. So, wish me luck. What will I make for dinner tomorrow night?? Yikes! Pixie
If you're going to switch phones, it's a good idea to pick up the second phone before you hang up the first one. Yeah. Dumbass. That's what Jessy would say, lol. So...I didn't end up sneaking out, because Jason's brother went to sleep, so I called up Joe and him and Brandon might come over tomorrow, we don't really know. I'm supposed to go to the movies with Craig...but I think he'll understand. I just feel empty inside, and Joe and Brandon make me laugh and feel better. Brittany