Saturday, August 18, 2001

Shot Out Of The Water

And your daily dreamcast from Brittany says... I was dreaming that I was in this place, it was really old, like...a dorm or a house or something, really big, I'm not sure why. I was walking through the halls in the outside when I found this pool, it was a very big pool, and looked very deep. There were these old but beautiful columns and really exotic, pretty flowers all around, a little retreat. It seemed very deserted when I found it, so I was hoping it could become my personal retreat. I went back another day and started swimming in it, just floating around in the cool water. I dropped the gum out of my mouth, and my tweezers too, not sure why I had those, but I was trying to catch them. The gum was easy, but the tweezers kept falling through my grasp. I was down on the bottom of the pool, it was very deep (15 to 20 feet), when I finally grabbed them. I needed air, so I pushed myself off the bottom. Right as I did that I heard a splash and looked up to find someone swimming towards me. Once they realized I was above water they stopped. There were two people in the pool with me. One had just walked by, and thought I was drowning so he called for help. The other person was the help. They were both teenagers, males. I laughed at them, teased them and said just because I was a girl didn't mean I couldn't swim. They sighed as if they'd heard it a billion times - and knew girls couldn't swim. I explained to them I was on a swim team for three years and a synchro team for five. So we started diving down and coming up, but never to the bottom. I saw it as a challenge. Me and the younger boy dived down, and I swam right down to the bottom and just sat there. His face was filled with worry, and I just grabbed his face between my hands and mouthed "don't worry". He looked really really beautiful, pure white skin, dark hair, but it was probably just the light making him look like that. He needed air, but he wouldn't go up without me, so I grabbed his hand, and we went up together. I told him not to do that again, if he needs air, just go up for it. He told me it wasn't that easy. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we were just floating around the pool together, doing stupid stuff. I don't know...

I just slept really really good, since I didn't go to sleep until like, 6pm. Rie came over today, she brought gyros and flan :) My uncle was telling me about this school that I might like, it's kind of a hippyish school, just different. I forget the name. Like...instead of PE you'll go milk the cows or tend to the garden. It's in the middle of nowhere in Vermont, and just a laid back place. Rie went there, and she really really likes it (it's called Putney). She was like a walking talking brochure :) Just telling me about the student body and the activities and academics and stuff like that. sounds really cool, and I'd really love to go there, but...there's that minor detail that it costs 20k a year and my parents would never let me go to a boarding school. I'd become pregnant and a drugdealer within minutes, I'm sure. Oh, it's called Putney. Rie and I are going shopping tomorrow, for schooly stuff. I'm going to check out Allston Beat (like a super better Hot Topic) and stuff. I just want kind of different fun clothes, so we'll see. I was a little nervous when Gama suggested it because Rie is so...preppy, and I mean that in a really loving way, and he told me that she wasn't always like that, she used to be all granola hippy with overals and big boots, so it should be fun. I'm happy about it now. I really like being here, if my mom saw us she'd probably just roll her eyes and call us all immature. But we were just sitting crosslegged on the floor, eating our food, sharing this tiny flan, and talking. My mom's been calling...but blah blah, we don't want to talk to her. They're in new mexico so I'm just saying that I only made calls when Gama was out of the house, and...I always forgot to get the phone number. I don't feel like talking to her...I'm here one more week! and she can't give me that week in fucking peace.

So that's kind of it...oh yeah, I started my period, yay. Last night I started to feel icky...I had a headache and I felt sooo tired and I was thinking no I can't be getting sick (not that I don't want to, it just never occured to me that I could get sick here). And this morning I woke up and my lower back was hurting so bad, and this afternoon all my joints started hurting, especially my knees. we know why. Duh Brittany. I've done so many sports and stuff, you'd think I'd be more adapt at listening to my body, but it's not an art I've figured out yet. I hate tampon makers and I hate the little corner drugstores who carry them. Okay, maybe I just hate the drugstores. I go to the nearest store, Store 24 to pick up some stuff for my girlie needs you know. They have like, three different kinds of tampons, gah! What the fuck is this? Are only three women menstrating a month and no one told me about it? So I have one of three options, buy a multi-pack, buy a "teen light" pack, or buy this new contration where you put together your own applicator. I chose the do-it-yourself one, because I had no other options. But you know what the bad part is? It's "super", which I don't need. But "teen light" would be too light. That's such a joke! I *am* a teenager! The second thing is, when I come home, "what's that smell coming from my tampon box?" Oh, you see it has a "fresh new scent" to keep you "feeling cleaner". That's a joke too, because you do n't have to worry about that with tampons, and I don't care for extra icky chemicals inside my body. And third of all, that little do it yourself applicator thing is...actually kind of cool. But, there's two things wrong with that. One is that it's plastic, the second is that it's there at all. You can't flush plastic, so you end up with a big icky mess of used applicators. Yuk, right? Maybe this wouldn't bother me if I was an idiot that needed one, but I'm not! Sorry, don't mean to poke fun at people who use these, actually I do. How hard is it not to use an applicator? I've been doing it since I was 11! They take up less space, less trash...gah.

And the guy at the maket puts up a "use next cashier" sign. I stand there in front of this moron, staring at him while he talks on the phone. He points to the other cashier. Did I mention that it was empty and the store was empty? Ugh. Finally some guy rushes out from some back room "so sorry" blah blah. The first cashier was an idiot, I was holding a tampon box and a bar of chocolate, how cliched, but you don't want to mess with me. The second guy was nice though. "How are you? blah blah blah" and I'm just like "okay" and he was like "yeah I thought look tired and stressed". I feel tired and stressed, just stressed from the thoughts of having to go back home. So that's my little story for the dya.Pixie

Well I've just spent a lot of time talking to Biscuit and Trevor, but they said "brb" and disapeared, so I figure I'll feed into my obsession of blogging. News Update: Fairie Chick broke up with Trevor, because she's stupid like that. Paco mentioned that she was getting kind of close to Anthony (let's recap, in the begining of 9th grade she went out with Anthony, he broke up with her. She went out with Trevor, he broke up with her. She went out with Trevor twice more, breaking up both times. Then she got back together with Anthony, and got back with Trevor (at the same time), she broke up with Anthony for Trevor, and she just broke up with Trevor). I didn't think she'd really do it, grrrr. I think she's better off with Trevor, in fact I like her better when she's with Trevor, but...that's just my opinion, and what do I know, I'm just a little pixie.

If anyone is curious to see Biscuit, you can go here: and his pictures are on the right side of the page, Trevor's on the left. And if you feel like seeing a little drawing of the band, go here: Again, that's Trevor's pic on the left, and Biscuit on the right...I'm not sure if Biscuit is supposed to be holding a mic or a beer can, but both work. Drawings by Biscuit, of course. Actually, that's pretty close to what they look like.

Weellll, umma gunna go now. (read: I'm going to go now). Yup...and maybe I'll talk to Biscuit on the phone tomorrow so you can all listen to me say how fabula it was. Pixie

Friday, August 17, 2001

The Boys

When I was a wee pixie, actually, 4 years old, I met "the boys", and one of my best friends. You see my brother was out one day, riding his bike, in our new neighborhood, when he crashed with this wee little Thai kid, and they became best friends. Then it turned out that wee little Thai kid (whose name is Timmy, btw) had an older sister, Amy (I've talked about her a few times, she's almost 18), and we became the best of friends. And then my brother got more friends, MoMo, and Andrew. So, whenever Amy and I were together and "they boys" were needed for some reason, we'd always call them "the boys". I wonder how that came to be. We could have just said our brothers, but nope. Well...those four hung out from the time they were five until they were in 8th grade. Because then my brother went to his magnet school, and MoMo went to his magnet school, and Timmy goes to my school. And MoMo and Timmy hang out sometimes, but...usually not with my brother. And Andrew and my brother go to the same school, but they have a funny relationship and don't hang out much. Oh yeah, and when I was a wee little pixie I had an on-again/off-again crush on Timmy (he's pretty cute, and he's nice and funny, and he draws, so it was a well-deserved crush).

Well, I had a strange dream last night, about him, involving kissing and touching and stuff, very strange, because I haven't seen this kid since school let out (I'd see him when I went to Amy's house and sometimes around school), and haven't thought about him since I was like, 9, lol. And then, an even stranger thing, I was like this kick ass rocker chick. Wearing my black shiny not-quite-leather pants (they make my ass look really cute :), my chunky funky 20 eyelet boots, and a black bikini top. Oh yeah, I was ho-ing myself out. So, I'm standing out in this desert, with all these people there, and I can just see myself standing up on a huge dune, the sun is shining, and the wind is blowing my hair around. Would've made a nice picture. Well, then I come down (it would have been impossible to do considering what I was wearing, but y'know, it's a dream), and I'm like standing like the Alpha chick among all these girls who wish they were me and all these guys who wanted me (I'm not concieted, those were the vibes I was getting! If I had that body in real life I'd be adored too, I'm sure), then someone tells me that Roger wants me, I go over and pull my tough-girl act, he offers me things (*ahem* parts of his body), I tell him to fuck off, he offers me his little...thing. Ummm, I don't know what they're called. It's a simple thing, it has a motor, a steering wheel, gas pedal, brake, seat, and a few poles holding it together (it's supposed to be more "hard core" because less protection and all). Well, I wanted that because I grabbed the helmet out of his hand and told my male-posse to position the little car-thing right.

Now, you're saying, "but Brittany, that's not so weird! this can't really be a dream of yours" Here's the strange part. Roger was the cartoon from Doug. If you've ever seen Doug, you know Rodger. Green skin, red hair, leather bomber jacket, he's in love with that rich little prissy girl BeBe. I don't know, I remember touching his hair and it was real, so there you go.

So, I go off, vrroooom! and I feel the power and it's like yeah! and I'm just flying over the desert. It's hard to control the car so I just let it control me and hang on for the ride. Then I'm next to Roger. I'm like, still in the car driving, but another part of me is here with Roger, watching myself. I see myself go up this really big dune, the one I was standing on before and I start to shiver because I know there's a drop off and I wonder if I'll be able to stop the car from going over. I'm surprised, because instead of slowing down, I start to speed up, I go at the edge of the drop off full speed, throwing my weight to the front of the vehicle. I start to flip, and manage to go all the way over and back right again, and land happily. The crowd cheers, it's great. I realize that that Brittany is all about speed and power and risk-taking, and I'm just left with boring stuff like common sense. I ask Roger if he likes me better or her. He won't answer, I know it's her. I say it's okay because I like her better too, and I can't wait until we're together again. Myself comes over to me and she looks at me a little strangely, I'm sure it's returned. We're just staring at each other, and I grab her, and try to kiss her, except it doesn't work out because she's doing the same thing I'm doing, which causes us to miss mouths completely. Finally we manage to kiss, and it's so strange. I get this shock up my body. She tastes...I don't know how she tastes, she tastes like black leather and whips and chains; I wonder if I taste like apple pie. And then we're together again, and I walk off into the desert, back up to my dune, and the crowd just watches me.

I've never been able to remember this many dreams before. I'd say usually I remember more than the average person, and I have lucid dreams a lot (I dream, but I know I'm dreaming), and I'm really good at controlling my dreams, but...I've never remembered *this* many. I hope you don't think I'm boring, all I do is talk about dreams, but I've been asleep for the past 11 hours, I don't have anything interesting to talk about my dears. Well, I'm going to go take a shower, and eat some pat tai, or however you spell it. Pixie
Super High

Wow, I'm on this super high and I feel like a bouncy ball again. If I let myself I would just bounce around all over and just be like "gahhhhHH!" and mosh myself. I'm a 5'3" girl, I don't mosh, no no. Well, I'm sure that I could mosh if I so desired, I just need to be in a *snarl* *grrr!* mood, which I am right now. But it's like...snarl in a good way, not bad. There's not a word for how I feel. Probably because there are few people who feel this way. How many people do you know want to bounce around when they're sooo happy? Not in that "eehh" wave-your-nails-around the-quarterback-asked-me-out bounce, no no, that is like, 10 levels below where I'm at. I finished this BIG project for Scarleteen. I FAQed like, 25 pages of threads, and then I took all the FAQs and organized them and catagorized them, gave them catchy titles, through in all the main site's articles at appropriate places, and tada. Then I had to go and do a lot of tedious work with the "enter" key, because I hate the UBB code, it's like fucked up HTML, gah!!!
Rough Estimate Of Time Spent:7-10 hours

I know, you're saying, "but Brittany, I work 8 hours a day 5 days a week at my job, and to you I say you fuckers you've obviously never tried to FAQ 25 pages of threads have you!?! And I'd kindly remind you that I don't get paid, and I'm actually trying to work out ways to pay Scarleteen. The way I've got it set up I can send in 20 bucks a month. I know, it doesn't seem like a lot (it costs $150 in bills to pay for the site, which doesn't include all the time Mz S spends working on it, and all the time that could be spent making money), but every bit helps. I was doing the math, and y'know, we have over 5000 members at Scarleteen. If they each sent in a dime a month (that's a mere 1.20 a year!) Mz S would actually make money from the site. And because I'm a math dork (I'll sit there for hours, figure out what minimum wage is, take out taxes, multiply by hours, multiply by days, multiply by months to figure out how long it would take to earn amount of money. And when I was in fourth grade I'd do very long multiplication problems that would take 15 minutes each, just for the fun of it. Like I said, math dork) I do a little math.
*20 people, less than 8 bucks
*40 people, less than 4 bucks
*60 people, less than 3 bucks

If that many people payed that much money, the site would be covered. It makes me so mad that someone doesn't go give Heather a million bajillion dollars because she deserves it more than anyone I know. Gosh, how many people do you know who spend their time and their money to help teenagers? She is paying money, out of her pocket, to help teenagers she's never met. And what does she get in return? A few thank you's, some harrasing e-mails, people calling her a nazi whore, and money out of her pocket. Grrr! Gah! If I had it my way, for every STD prevented, someone should write a check for half of what it would cost to treat that STD. For every pregnancy not made, someone should write a check for half of what it would have cost to have that child born and raised and fed. It just makes me so infuriated.

Little 'ole me, Brittany, who is only 15 years old, can't get a job, doesn't have a job, doesn't get an allowance, whose parents have no idea that she spends a lot of time online at a little place called scarleteen, whose parents would try to discourage me from spending time/money there if they did know, who has no access to a credit card, little me, has figured out a way to send 20 bucks a month, effective this month.

I have to go workout, more on this rant later Pixie

Thursday, August 16, 2001

My Mind Is Like A Movie Screen

And sometimes I don't like what they're playing. In fact sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat scared out of my mind. Like when I have dreams about finding/catching a killer, but arriving too late, and being forced to look into a paper bag that had the victim's arms in it (that was a few nights ago). Tonights was like watching it on the was black and white, and I couldn't change the angle. There was this group of kids, in a woodsy type of area, all goth-ed out, when a bus pulls up, the headlights blinding them. Before they even saw who was in the bus, a billion football players rush out and start kicking the shit out of these gothics, it was so horrible, you could just hear screaming and see the kids fall down and the crowd just going wild, hitting hitting hitting. And then it was like, fast foward, and you saw his sister talking to an interviewer saying how horrible it was, how mangled the body was. Some voice over told you how many broken bones, fractures, serious cuts were on the body, you saw a skeleton to represent saw grainy pictures of his dead body. Ugh...bad dreams bad dreams.

I finally found a real radio station in Boston, whew whew. 104.1, linkin park, korn, adema, I concur damnit! I got my Indian food today, yum yum. I dropped chicken into my shoe, but it was a sandal so I just wiped it out, lol. Mmmm, I could use some right now. Did you know my high school has it's own Student Right's homepage? Yeah...they put up the entire yearbook earlier this year, but they had to take it down because it broke some safety or copyright law. Yeah, and it's not on the priority list so it's not coming up any time soon. But, I bring this up because they talk about stuff, and I actually know the younger brother of the person who runs the site. And I just went back there after a long wait so there are a lot more articles for me to read. Right now I'm reading about this kid, and it makes me so mad, because you see how biased the newspaper is. Not that I read the newspapers, but you hear people talking about it, and they have no fucking idea.

Do we all remember Columbine? Yeah okay, just making sure. Well...this little incident happened a few weeks before April 20th last year (that'd be the Columbine anniversary), so security was all hyped up. In my carreers class the school police came in as a guest speaker for someone, and they basically said that if anyone even joked about guns, knives, killing, blah blah, they can search your backpack, locker, car, ask you to empty out your pockets, etc. And if they find something they don't like they can search your house. Mmhm, sucky shit right there. Well, a few days after April 20th everyone's talking about "that kid who got expelled from ********* because he was going to shoot up the school" (btw, no one came to school on 4/20. I didn't go, my mom wouldn't let me, but all my teachers were saying that there were like, 5 kids in every class. So many kids didn't show up that the school didn't even want your excused notes). Well, what really happened is late one night he gets called up from two girls that go to my school, one he was acquainted with. They asked him if he wanted to go to the 7-11 and hang out, he said no. They put him on hold for 10 minutes and were just acting like un-nice people, and when they came back he said something to the effect of "it's people like you who get on columbine lists". Of course the girls told the "proper authorities", and the ball started to roll. The police investigated his school habits and such, and decided he was an "at risk" kid. At risk meaning he had ADHD, but since being on medication his grades had soared and he was now an A/B student. When the officials searched his locker they found a school report on the Halocaust with scetches of nazi symbols, and for a report the question was "what's the biggest problem in schools" and his report focosed on school violence. AS A PROBLEM YOU FUCKERS!

Can you believe this shit? I couldn't. He was expelled from school, arrested for three days, and it took 10 more days for him or his gaurdians to find out what was going on. The police came by the house, the gaurdians let them search the kids room (and why not?), they went through all his shit, computer files, e-mails, etc...they found a BBGun in his room and a shotgun in his gaurdian's closet, they took them both away. In the days the kid spent in juvy, when his gauridans came to visit he was strip searched (yes that means anally too, my dearies). Even though all the charges were reversed (DUH YOU FUCKERS), he was still expelled for a quarter of the school year, and had to go to Opp School to make up for it. I don't know if you know, but Opp School is not a place for nice boys. It's a place for kids involved with gangs, hardcore drugs, and prostitution.

This shit pisses me off so much. It was not only a total invasion of privacy, but because no one knew what the fuck was going on you know everyone was giving their "well I heard..." opinion, and no one will ever forget the day this kid was grabbed by three police officers in the middle of the school day. I'm sorry's just too much...there are better ways. Think about it logically, you can take the kid to the counselor's office, explain to him what's going on, ask for his cooperation to make it all easier, and if he doesn't agree *then* you let all hell loose. But think about it....if you haven't got anything to hide, you're going to let the cops do what they want to clear you. But...their "evidence" would have probably put him away anyway.

I wonder if I'd seem "at risk". I probably would be considered. I hang out with the theater people. I was seeing holding hands with my best friend and she's been known to call out "why there is my lesbian lover!". I didn't want to be a cheerleader. I've been seen around the school wearing a little green plaid bondage skirt (the one my parents declared indecent), with people attatched to me. I've been seen attatched to people. My best friend was at school wearing lace up black pants and this lacey/velvety (gorgeous) over-the-top black shirt. The people who don't know me would probably say I was a little on the strange side, but I don't think so. There are a few football players and cheerleaders who even like me (and one smells so good, mmm, I'm going to attack that kid when I get back to school). Gah, this just makes me so angry. Pixie

Wednesday, August 15, 2001

Brittany's List Of Super Duper Sites!

As much as I'd *love* to tell you guys all my favorite sexy sites on the net (because they're all fabula and everyone should go to them), I don't think I should, because I am a minor and I have no idea if I can get them in trouble to have a minor linking to them. *pout pout* So this is all PG-13, I know I'm dissapointing some of you, oh well. This is sparked by this great site I found, and I figure I'll just throw in all the others just because.

Old Standby's, aka: How Brittany Spends Her Time On The Net
The journal of a girl named Ashes, she's beautiful and smart and witty, and writes very poetically. The normal sagas of a teenage girl stuck just outside of Las Vegas
The brand spanking new journal of a girl whose name I think is Jen, I'm not sure. Her old diary was at which, in her own words is where she fell in love, became manic depressed, almost killed herself, had infinite moments with her best friends, almost lost one of her best friends, betrayed her father's trust and lost her school and boyfriend because of it.
Another girl whose name I'm unsure of. She has a gorgeous boyfriend named Beaux, and their relationship is really sweet and makes you *sigh*, she is a recovering anorexic and cutter, she's into piercing and has amazing photography, and this is her life.
The site that everyone MUST go to, you must, I order you. You're not allowed to not go there. It's a sexual education website aimed at teenagers, but as many of our users have proved, it's great for adults too. Hurry up and register because as of the 17th the message boards will be read only and you'll never be able to post until Sept. 17th. But make sure you read all the articles and use the search function first :)
Great message boards, only relevant if you like ballet I suppose :)
I just found this one today, it's the Lusty Lady, she has her own sex column. Her writings are awesome, she talks about sexuality, porn, BDSM, masturbation, and all that fun stuff. As she puts it, she's a sex-positive feminist. And she's proud to be a slut.
Danny boy...he shorted out the school's electricity with his braces, started fires in the bathroom and in some twisted way became the hero of the school...then he became a police officer. Now he works in a little grocery store at UCLA, and you can find him around Scarleteen as "BruinDan", another advo.
Lemming doesn't update often, but when she does it's worth it (also a Scarleteen advo)

Blah blah, The rest of it all
In one of the Lusty Lady's colums she talks about feeling sexy, and how to feel sexy you have to have good sex-esteem. And she talks about her friend Dewey, "Dewey was quite overweight, I think he might have weighed 250 or 300, and he wore baggy black clothes and didn't always shave and acted like he could care less how he looked (except for the standard black attire, a goth staple). Yet, Dewey projected so much life, so much verve and vitality out into the world, that hot girls fell for him. He didn't need to put on an act to be sexy - he was a gracious, kind, sweet person who truly listened and cared, and even though he got down on himself sometimes, he acted like he was proud of his body and that if someone didn't like him they could take their friendship elsewhere." And that made me think of Scott. Everyone at my school knew who Scott was, because it was pretty hard to miss him. He had longish black hair that was always at a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, he was a big guy, he was a tall guy, he wore a big long black trenchcoat. As I said, he was hard to miss, so I knew who he was before I had actualy met him. Most people would call him a scary guy, but in reality he was my treachcoat-wearing-teddybear, and I really loved that kid. I have no idea why he took a liking to me, but he did, and soon I'd be giving him big hugs every time I saw him, and he'd tickle me and pat my on my head and sometimes say something racy to me (but then again, everyone said racy things to everone). Sometimes he'd mention something about having sex and you never doubted in your mind that he had sex, and probably with beautiful girls. He definetly had sex-esteem. But...the point is I miss that kid, he graduated last year :( and the Lusty Lady made me think of him.

Gah, I looked like a little kid today, and I still do. I slept in my clothes so they're all wrinkled and my ponytail is flopping around. I was wearing overalls, which are 100% stay-inside clothes, but we went outside today (like I mentioned earlier). These overalls are old, I've had them for a little over a year, the legs are a little too short, and paired with my Sugar Shoes and a penguin on my shirt...well, I'd bet that I could pass for being 12 or 13. Don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but I think looking like a goofy kid makes me act like a goofy little kid, even if I do have the strangest dreams. Pixie

I just had the strangest dream...I went with my brother to work at the RJ, and everyone was really really dorky there and bustling around, and my brother was being an ass, but y'know, I just tried to be super nice, as usual. Some girl wasn't feeling well so I gave her half of my sandwhich and stuff. At the end of the day we were all lying down and then I overheard some of the so-called popular girls saying how sweet and nice I was, and how cute I was jumping around with my little squeaky voice, and that made me happy because I like people thinking that (which is why my next actions are contradicting). Then I ended up at school, with all the same people, and we were studying for finals, and male and female anatomy (on bus...the bus was set up like a labaratory) and so I asked some question about Prince Alberts interferring with the urethra (prince albert is a piercing through the head of the penis...see, if I wanted everyone to think I was sweet and nice then why did I bring that up? I have no idea). Well, then this cute guy walks by on his way to the back of the bus. I pulled him very close to me and pressed my body against him and said something right into his ear (although right now I don't remember what...). So, I go home, where there are a lot of kids I don't recognize, and I realized that...I was in this house, helping out, but these weren't my parnets nor my siblings...I don't know who or why...but you know, that's all irrelevant. Because I had to figure out a way to get outside in the backyard without the people of the house noticing I was gone. It was obvious that the mother-figure was going to ask me to help her make a strawberry pie so just before she asked I said "can I be excused, I really need to study for exams" and she let me go. One of the boys, a little older than me, brother-like you know, is harassing me trying to get into my room but I was like "umm, I have to get dressed you jerk!" and so he pushes his way into the room...and then the idea hit me. I could use my girli-ness to my advantage to get my "bro" to let me leave. So...I pulled the Katherine-deal again, pushed him down onto my bed, leaned over him - not touching - and whispering into his ear. I told him that there was a place I needed to be right now, without him, and if he could arrange that he'd be rewarded. He got a little choked up and asked me what I meant, I told him I was talking about head, fucking, whatever he wanted, and I promised it would be the best he'd ever had. The mother figure walked in, and was about to settle in on the sofa (in my bedroom??) when my brother-person was like "you know mom, she needs to study, she needs to be able to concentrate" and the mother-person was like "well what are you doing here then?", I came in and said that he had offered to help me study biology (hoping he was actually good at that so the mom would believe me). Apparently he was, because she nodded and left. So, I gave him head, he agreed it was the best he'd ever had, I coyly told him it was the best he'd ever get unless I took a liking to him, and ran off.

Into the woods with Mr. Cutie I went, and we had our fun (in the snow??? well, it didn't *feel* cold, which is I guess the most important part), and I managed to still have all the girls convinced that I was so sweet and perky.

Strange dream...let me explain the "Katherine-like" that I used. You see, one of my favorite movies is Cruel Intentions. If you've seen it you know exactly what I'm talking about, if you haven't, there are four main charecters. Katherine, Sebastion, Cecille, and the Virgin whose name I don't remember. Well...Katherine and Sebastion are into manipulation, drugs, and sex, especially when they can hurt someone in the process - if only for their own amusement. It's funny, because in the movie Katherine says "everyone thinks I'm little miss marcia fucking brady and I'm sick of it...", although all the guys knew she slept around. Go figure. She also used her body in her powers of persuasion. I love that damn movie.

So, anyways...obviously I just woke up, which I did. Earlier this morning Ariel came over and him and Gama worked on the most stupidest song for the film-maker, for her movie. It's like, "daisy, daisy, diddly doo" or some shit like that, awful song. Eventually they decided to go to Ariel's place, I'm not sure why, so I took the futon there and they took the computer. I'd hate hate hate to have their jobs. Listening to the same song (or in this case, 15 seconds) over and over and over, adding instruments and notes and chords but just the same thing over and over. Gah. Even I got sick of it and I was zoned off in a book. Well, this boring work, that they didn't even want to do, led to many breaks. One to get food (we were huuuuunnnggry, si senor), so we went to this grill place and Ariel proved how much the work sucks by ordering a beer. It was 10:30am...Ariel and I had a horrible time picking food to eat, finally Gama ordered for Ariel, and I got a burger. Really good burger. Our waitress reminded me of a certain Mz. S, her hair was the same except she was a brunette, and she had the freckles and the nose and the cute face and her jewlery was just so Scarlet-esque, I had to wonder :)

And we took an ice cream break (ben and jerry's, yum!), and coffee breaks and Exile breaks (it's Myst 3, if you don't know what that is then you don't want to know...), but finally they were done just as I was drifting to sleep on the futon. Well...during all this, we somehow came to the topic of midgits. Gama has now decided that I want a midgit-lover, which is not true, but, for your own amusement and mine, I ask these midgity questions. 1.) Can midgits get pregnant? What if they have a normal sized baby? (Gama says that if they were pregnangt with a normal sized baby the midgit would fall over and her little midgit husband wouldn't be able to help her back up). 3.) If a midgit wants to run track, do they have to run the WHOLE mile, or the midgit-equivelant of the mile? 4.) How do midgits deal with normal-sized toddler children? Their 4 year old could push them over! 5.) If a midgit was a quadrapalegic, do they have midgit-sized wheelchairs?

I don't remember the other questions...but, we thought some benefits to having a midgit for a kid would be that you could hide them in your carry on bag and not have to pay for their airplane seat. You could buy baby-sized clothes, which are much cheaper then regular sized clothing. You could give your midgit friend a 20-inch TV and they'd think it was big screen. Ohh...lots of midgity ideas. Don't mean to offend anyone by my midgit questions, but you know...well, I'm talking to Paco on the phone, bye. Pixie
Eight Arms To Hold You With

Gah, I keep thinking of that girl at the trainstation. And this girl with these killer red sunglass we passed on the street. I just...I want to take pictures of these people, you know? I want to take pictures of all the people I think are beautiful and hang them on my walls just so I can be surrounded by them. There was this toddler at the train station, she looked like she was half white, half black, and had that gorgeous caramel colored skin. Her hair was very frizzy and poufy, and the same shade as her skin, and she was holding this huge bag of popcorn, it practically toppled her over, and she was just looking around with these big innocent eyes, and I wanted to capture that, to just have this little girl in a trainstation with all these adults whizzing by her, not even taking notice because they're so caught up in their suits and cell phones. And it's just like....uhhh....I have all this energy, and it's all pent up, I just want to jump around and smash around and run a marathon and do something completely brilliant. So...I'm listening to Veruca Salt, yeah yeah. Brandon e-mailed me, yay. I e-mailed him back asking him for his number, and then I e-mailed S. asking her for her number and Jessy's, and I should ask for Fairie Chick's too, because I think tomorrow I'll call all my ya-ya's, because I miss them terribly.

Will and Andy broke up, which makes me so sad because they were really so cute. I wish I could have been there with S. to talk to Will, but, I wouldn't have been able to anyway because I'm not allowed to go out after youth group. plans for a picnic are back on. I figure the Saturday after I get back home I shall try to organize a picnic at Paradise Park, because my parents are recluses and don't like people and don't especially like my friends. And I'll invite Duck and Star and Will and S. and Fairie Chick and Jessy and Robert and Robin and Paco and maybe Biscuit and Trevor, not sure about them since half the guest list is gay, lol. And...I don't know, school will have started so I get to meet people and invite them too. Since I can't afford to buy food, I'll just ask everyone to bring something, and it will be all pot luck and happy. Maybe I'll buy some bouncy balls for soccer or volleyball or kickball or whatever...and bubbles, of course...and, I don't know happy stuff. If you happen to know where the hell Paradise Park is then you're welcome to come too. Just don't bring a shotgun. And no unhappiness will be allowed, no senor, none of that. I hope it's not a bore...we shall see, ehh? Ooh, and I've got to e-mail Emsily from scarleteen so we can set up a meeting...tomorrow I start to work out with my uncle, today I was very giggly. I didn't go see American Pie 2, although I did sleep for like, 9 hours, which is probably the reason for all this jibber jabber.Pixie

Tuesday, August 14, 2001

oh, and PS, my dad was implying that I'm fat (the saga from a month or so ago) because he wants me to participate in more sports. If they would bust out the paycheck I'd be dancing 8 times a week...but apparently my two classes weren't sporty enough. Which is why he was so gung ho about cross country. Well...fuck him.
Whimsical I read the conversation between my uncle and my mom that left them not was about when she went through my e-mail. Basically she thinks I'm manic depressive, I leave shit out for her to find on purpose just to be malicious (the almost-naked pictures in her shoe, which by the way I have with me now and will dispose of accodringly...too much hassle to keep them around), the fact that she went through my e-mail...well it's of course my fault that she managed to get into it and read my shit. She was so nonchalant about it...."I went to read my e-mail and then realized that it wasn't for me, but actually a conversation between my daughter and a childhood friend, so of course I read all the e-mail in her account, including the Old Mail folder". And she thinks I'm a sick fucker, not put in those words but stated enough so it's obvious she believes it. I'm so done with it and so done with her. My eyes started to tear up and I felt the familiar burning sensation....the one I'm so used to, but I only shed a few tears. I'm sick of crying and being sad and I'm sick of giving her the satisfaction.

I don't know, she tells me things about my dad just to hurt me (like...if I and another chick adopt a kid he won't consider it his grandkid and therefor won't perform any grandfatherly duties, but if me and a guy adopt a kid he'll be all grand-fatherly), because she's just an angry bitter woman. Her dad was an abusive alchoholic who beat the shit out of her, her mom was a sicko who stayed with him, and I guess because I have a good relationship with my dad she hates me for it. She's so bitter and angry...and I'm sick of it. When we got into our last big fight, and she did a lot of yelling, and I stared out the sliding glass door, I know why. Because I'm just so sick of it I don't give a damn anymore. I hate the relationship that I have with my mom but I don't like her as a person and I'm glad that I'm not any closer to her. I don't want to be the kind of person that would enjoy her company. My uncle mentioned how she treats Adrian and I so differently and she was like...well, they never say anything. If I thought I was being treated unfairly I'd scream my head off. But...I don't say anything because I know it won't make a difference. She'll make an excuse, and life will go on. My uncle told her just that, and she did just that. "you don't know, blah blah blah, change of subject" kind of thing. So predictable.

And that's that...we deleted it, it's no longer a part of my life. I tried oatmeal, I like it. It's a bummer that I'm in Boston having a good time because it's just going to suck when I go home. It's like if a person just eats peas for their whole life, and for one week they get steak and sushi and salmon and potatoes and cheescake, and then they have to eat peas again for the rest of their life. uncle mentioned that at least I have the knowledge that once I year I get to try yummy foods again. Speaking of which...I want to try tofu. I never have, because my parents would never buy it, but I've always wanted to. So we're going to get some and eat some and it'll be yum yum.

Ariel and Ben are going to see American Pie 2 today...I might go...I want to see it, but I kind of just want to hang out at home today. So...we shall see. Tonight I'm going to work out with my uncle, cool cool. Ohh, I've been thinking maybe I should get into print advertising. I think I'd be good at it. I also want to get into photography. I walk around the streets and I see things I want to capture, and I think I'd be good at that too. things to consider, new careers. I have to do some research, find out some good schools for this kind of thing. We'll see how it all pans out, because that's all I can ever do, ehh? Pixie
Blogger Sucks

They're really pissing me off :( The template for my archives are fucked (it has part of the post at the bottom of the page), and blogger thinks it's cool to entirely ignore some of the posts I made in that week for my archives (I'm missing three day's worth of posts in my 7/29-8/4 Archive), and worse yet I don't know how to fix it. Blogger isn't helpful either. The so called "help" forums are filed with posters having the same fuck ups I have, and having the same no fucking clue that I have, with no people who actually know what's going on and actually know how to help. This sucks. Blogger sucks.

I saw this girl on the trainstation coming home...she was sitting next to us wearing old and worn sneakers, socks, a knitted skirt that went just below her knees, a green tee shirt, and a silver necklace that had a large heart with a peace sign inside. She was scribbling in her journal...there was something about her, I can't explain. She just looked so fresh and real...not fake at all. It was just strange, I wanted to buy her ice cream or something, y'know? Pixie ps: if you have any idea on how I can fix my blogger problems, please please please e-mail me at, thank you much!
I Had A Good Title, But I Forgot

I thought of a good one in NYC, but my memory is failing me, so now you get a crummy one. Well well did it go? It went good, very very good. We took off in the morning and enjoyed a 5 hour train trip in bussiness class. Business class is sooo worth it. Less people, more room, free drinks, it is good. However, we didn't really enjoy any of that because for the most part my uncle and I both slept. We got to NYC, walked to the hotel, checked in, and promptly took a nap. The hotel was dissapointing, because it was supposed to be super nice, but it was just okay. We woke up, and left for the show. For those of you not in the know, we saw Cabaret, at Studio 54 (yes, that studio 54). Even the seats were cool. We were sitting first row on the balcony, and the seats were leopard print and they had funky retro red lamps every other seat. The show was very very good. Brooke Shields played the main gurl charecter, and we weren't sure how that was going to fly, but she was great. Very strong voice, cute accent, very believable. The interesting thing about the show is that some of the orchestra players double as being dancers, so that was a little strange but cool. Pretty girls who are scantily clad prancing around are cool, especially when they sing and dance. It was girl-on-girl and boy-on-boy which I thought was slinkster cool, since it didn't really have to be (except for one kissing scene between two boys).

We left the theater and...pling, it was raining. We lacked an umbrella. We caught a cab to 9th because we were on the search for the Japanese restaurant where my uncle's friend works. Well...the cab only took us partway, because we didn't know the adress or the name, so we were walking around in the rain for a very long time until we finally bought umbrellas. We found the restaurant, the food was good, I had some chicken, I ate some of my uncle's bass, and got some green tea ice cream which is just yumdilicious. My uncle's friend is a funny kid. His name is Fumi and he went to Berklee with Gama. Well, Gama was on Fumi's cellie checking messages and returning calls so Fumi and I were talking. Eventually he asked me what I did for a living, and I laughed and said I was too young to work. His smile faded a bit when he asked me how old I was, I told him the truth - I'm 15, and he just about fell over. "15!? Oh my god you're fifteen!?" I like to surprise people like that.

Blah blah blah, they talked for a while and finally we went back to the hotel, where they blah blah-ed some more until they came up with the bright idea of buying some alchohol. They wanted beer, I requested anything that wasn't beer. So...Gama got Stout, Fumi got some Japanese beer, and I got 2 Mike's Hard Lemonade's. These are really yummy creatures, light and lemony, with only a 5.3% alchohol content, or something around there. We drank up, and talked. We told Fumi about my parents and brother and he was just like "wow..." you know. We sent little Fumi off to get more alchohol (he wanted to smoke anyway...), he came back with more beer, 3 more Hard Lemonade's, and missing our room key. I have no clue how he managed to pull that one. Well...3 Hard Lemonades later and I was living it up. I don't remember anything, but I distincly remember that Fumi kept crying out "15!?" and looking with shock at my uncle, me, and my uncle again. I also remember saying "I like girls, but I like boys too" (no idea how that one came up). Apparently I had a lot of energy, which surprised them, and poor Fumi kept saying "let's go to sleep, you're only 15, when you're 23 you will understand" but I just kept jaberring on. Eventually Fumi took to calling me Spears (as in, Britney Spears) and I kept forgetting his name. I kept calling him some absurd shit, I don't remember what, and he'd be like "Spears, no, shut up, listen to me, think fumar". Fumar is spanish for "to smoke", and somehow in my drunkeness I managed to conjugate fumar properly for "you smoke" (fumas). Gama says that I'd be like "Fumi dumi....dumi fumi!" (which sounds like "do me fumi"). So those old men went to sleep early (5am) and I sat in a chair trying to read Truman Capote, trying not to fall over. A few times I got up and tried to walk in a straight line, it wasn't happening. I managed to do a single pirouette, which is good because usually I have problems with that sober. I drifted off for a few hours but woke up before my uncle did, and I found cuts on myself. I do remember picking up this little piece of glass (it was broken off of a beer bottle) and scratching my hand lightly, but that doesn't explain the other four or five little ones I found.

Gah...walking around NYC after that night was uncool. Normally I sleep 14 or 15 hours after getting drunk, thereby eliminating hangovers. It wasn't too bad, some warm water and cold coke settled my tummy and I felt much better, even if I looked worse. We picked up a movie from this film-maker in Greenwhich Village (which I like much better than any other part of NYC), and took the train back home, where I once again discovered there are no colder climates to be found than on a train.

So...intersing trip, fun too. I had to call my parents...bah. My dad was cool, my mom was not. I mentioned Brook Shields and she went berserk, calling her a flat chested spoiled rotten slut, blah blah blah. My dad was totally living it up, because he likes Brooke Shields (part of my mom's hate for her), and he started yelling in the background "you should have gotten her autographe" to which my mom told me she would "slap the shit out of me" if I did. So pleasant, isn't it? Well...I'm going to go and make myself some oatmeal (I've never made it before, should be interesting), and write in my journal, since it has been very neglected. Haven't written in it in 5 days, yikes. Pixie

Sunday, August 12, 2001

Silky Sexy Sophisticated

So...where I left off, Rie and I had a fun time. Today we went again....her and Gama had a hushed conference, we counted out the change jar, and they decided that I didn't have to worry - I could get any dress I wanted. So we spent the day shoe shopping. The problem with that is the shoes I like are out of style. I like chunky funky, instead I found ribbon-thin straps and spiked heels. I won't even get into my inability to walk in heals! And I have wide much as I'd like to wear sexy strappy shoes, my feet look like a fat women squeezed into a size 2 miniskirt. Like my feet are just busting out. I don't want my feet to look like that. Well...evenutally we went back to Lord and Taylor where I was surprised to find four pairs of shoes I like. We settled on a pair of Steve Madden, which have a four inch platform which lowers to a two inch, somehing like that. The platform is black, and then it has these three white straps going across. Hard to describe, but tress cute. They were 60 bucks originally, and 45 on sale. We had a 20% off imagine our surprise when the total was only 23 bucks! We forgot to factor in the original 35% off sale :) Silly us. Then we went upstairs...tried on the dress/shoe combo, it was fabulous. Holly Golightly would have been proud. We were trying on the 119 dress, by the way. It is white with these large black roses that look like a brush painted on (it took a few looks to gather they were flowers, I thought it was just some retro print), 3/4 inch straps. It's cut in a low circle - low enough to see an old cutting scar on my chest :/ And it has a little black drawstring. Very cute. We bought it....the total came up to 190!!!! While I'm very happy to have the dress...I can't help but feel antsy about it. My homecoming dress cost less than that, even with the shoes and makeup. Gah...but I'll just try to enjoy it. It was decided that my mom would flip so I'm not supposed to tell her the price.

And then we bought Godiva chocolates for Rie, and I've never seen *her* be more happy, *laughs*. So, a good day for sure. Ohh...Tamara came over today. I've heard stories about Tamara, because she's Jeff's ex-girl. I've heard her sing on some stuff for my uncle, beautiful voice, very talented, apparently she dances and she used to do some modeling. For what? you ask. She wants to be a pop singer. Gah. So...I saw her today, she came over after work and wow, not what I was expecting. I expected some blonde or some exotic woman which chocolate skin. She's very tall and thin...brunette...not what I expected, but ahh well, you never know these things.

I'm reading a book about Truman Capote, it's sorta a biography, but from everyone else's point of view. It takes you through his life, with all the people who knew and liked (or disliked) him commenting on him or this event or that. It's Rie's, she brought it over because she knows I like Capote, and since we'll be in New York, it's fitting...When I first came to Boston Gama showed me a book he had (and later presented me with my own copy) called a Capote Reader, it's not published anymore in the states, hard to find, and it has almost all of his works in there. On the cover you see a picture of him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes deep and haunting. It's a great picture, really, but it makes him seem so...deep and reserved and quite and sexy and sensual, which apparently he wasn't at all. He was a very flamboyantly gay man, who wore outrageous outfits that no one else dared to wear, and told scandelous lies. It's a good book :)

Gama has these little figurines, three on top of his monitor (a squeeshy cow, like the Gateway cow, a snoopy with the little yellow bird on top, and a wooden fishing monkey), and then two on these tiny speakers he has mounted to the wall. Atop of one is a beanie bag-type bulldog, and on the other frankenstine. I can't look at Frankie without thinking of my dad, because last year when I was here, when the furniture was slightly rearranged, the light would shine on Frankie just so, and it would look JUST like my dad. Well, his shadow would anyway. You see, Frankie is sitting, with one hand up. His shadow looked just like my dad in his chair (because, almost all fathers have their chair, the chair you can only sit on when he's not looking). In the reclining position, feet up, hand holding the remote. Oh yes, it's my daddy to a T. Now it doesn't shadow the same way...but the memory is still there. I probably won't write until Monday night..something like that, I don't know. Whenever my uncle goes to work I suppose.

Oh dear, our trip will be so busy. We leave in a few hours, we check in, we walk around. At 7:30 we go to the show, we figure we'll get out around 10ish. Then we have to meet a filmaker and singer. At 4am we have a date at my uncle's friend's restaurant, and then our train leaves that afternoon. Wow, bang, surprise. Pixie