I don't want to make my blog private. I want people to be able to find it and, if they enjoy it, stay and read it, But if all it's going to do is cause my life to explode over and over, then I guess I should rip the fucking thing down and be done with it.

There's no expectation of privacy on the net. I KNOW THAT. REALLY, I DO. But maybe I was stupid enough to think that one little post, hidden with about twenty in June, wouldn't be read by one of, like, two people in the world who it would ruin. Yeah, crazy, right?

I'm at my wits' end. I don't know what to do. And why am I posting this on my blog, you ask? Well, it's because I'm a fucking idiot. Get used to it.

Brain Typhoon

Sometimes I wake up and everything is great. Everything feels right, everything is gonna work out for the best, everything is where it should be.

Sometimes I wake up and I feel like crying. I feel like hiding under the covers until I don't exist anymore, and I would...except that would make me feel even worse.

My mood swings like a freakin' pendulum. One minute I love all my friends to death and feel like the luckiest girl in the world. The next minute I'm jealous of them and want them to feel just as crappy as I do, just so I'm not alone. What is WRONG with me?

Is it okay to want people to want you more than you want them? Is it okay to want so much to know what the secret is? Is it so bad to feel smug because for once, I'm happier than the people around me?

Today, my dad, sister, and I went to the pool beside what used to be my grandparents' house before they both died and we had to sell the house because the world sucks (now the lawn is completely unkempt and the whole place looks haunted; great). This is the pool where I learned how to swim, and where I first passed a deep-end test, and where I spent a huge amount of time when I was younger. It felt so, so weird being back. Like I was suddenly ten years old again. The trees were too tall. They cut off the sun. I had a board-battle with my dad and we came to a stalemate; I learned from the best. My sister and I messed around and had a great time. It was so nice.

Some people are performing two of my short plays. This should make me happy, but it just makes me wracked with embarrassment and uncertainty. They hate it, don't they? They're just feeling sorry for me. Oh my god, this is awful writing, what was I THINKING? Yeah, that was running on a loop through my head the whole time.

I miss Sierra. I wonder if she's reading this. I hope she's having a wonderful time in Oxford. Her blog posts seemed to say she was. I can't wait until we have her back home.

On Friday I hung with Leora and Will and just generally was so, so happy because they are both amazing. Then Will and I dropped Leora off and went to dinner with Ian and Emma at Le's, which used to be Pho Pasteur. Their noodles are good, I stole some of Emma's.

Yesterday, I hung out with Mira, Phia, and Jess. I missed them all so much, I can't even tell you. What is my PROBLEM? I stay away from some of the people I love the most in the world. Then I hung with Roze, Shawn, and Benjy. Same question as previously. We saw Public Enemies, which pretty much sucked, except for me being able to stare at Johnny Depp's chiseled gorgeousness for two-something hours. Even lesbians love this guy; I think that says something for him indeed.

I'm listening to "Still I Can't Be Still", by Idina Menzel. I love her so much. I also love this song. I listened to it a lot when I was in Greece a while ago. God, Greece is beautiful. The Mediterranean is the most wonderful sea in the world: its water is pure, rich blue, deeper than chlorine and much more natural. It's warmer than it should be, and...it is just beyond words. When my family and I were in Greece, we stayed on this island called Helki. Though it did its best to be a tourist trap, there were precious few cars, cats, everywhere, and just enough lack of civilization for it to be unspoiled. I hope it's still that way.

Most mornings, I would get up and walk down the path to the little wharf and waterfront. I'd buy something from the bakery, maybe a ham and cheese croissant, and go sit on the edge of the wharf with my legs dangling over the edge and that brilliant blue water washing up against the concrete. I'd throw little bits of my croissant into the water and soon enough, there would be a hundred different kinds of fish swimming right beneath my feet. It was incredible to watch. Dad almost died by lionfish and Halie almost died by sea urchin. The kitties were everywhere. I made friends with the local kids. There was a goat-tanning building. My older cousin Nina made friends with this Irish guy Patrick, and we hung with him for a while. On the bus back from the ferry, we passed loads of brown brush and dry fields. "Still I Can't Be Still" brings me right back there.

On Tuesday I'm seeing RENT. I haven't allowed myself to think about it very much. For one thing, I'll be going alone, which is hard. For another, the emotional wrecking ball will hit pretty damn hard, and if I want to function, I have to hold it back for as long as possible. I'm taking ym Mark Scarf. Yuss.

I finished a bit of my AP Bio summer work. Go me.

I just watched five episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air with my little sister. She really is my best friend. That sounds so very cliche, but it's true. We get each other so well. And we've been through the same shit together.

There's a lot more to say. But I have to go to bed. G'night.

Stuff

It's funny how relative our lives are. High school...adolescence...freedom and yet ennui...it all seems to take so long. I was talking to my dad about college, and how it's only two years away. And I was thinking, "Man, two long years..." and then I suddenly realized, "Oh my god, ONLY TWO YEARS?"

Everything happens slow and fast, slow and fast. It's hugely disorienting sometimes. Like, I want to smush my head against the wall one second, I want to skip around and hug the world the next. You'd think I'd get whiplash, but nooooo. I'm not that lucky.

These two little twins I babysit--and that I babysat tonight--sort of brought that concept home to me. I've known them since they were born, and I've been babysitting them since they were three. Now they're eight, and they have, like...thoughts and emotions and ideas and shit like that. It's thrilling and frightening at the same time. I mean, I love these two girls to the end of the earth and back, and they basically feel a bit like younger cousins or something. But sooner than I might think, they won't need me anymore. We won't be sitting on their smooshy red couch, with them cuddled up next to me while we watch RENT (gah feelings HELP) on their dad's computer. I won't sing them "A, Alligators All Around" and various RENT songs for bedtime anymore, and I won't be able to carry one twin on my shoulders to Pemberton Market and the other on my shoulders on the way home while they chatter about elves and vampires and such. Their innocence and simplicity, which is so endearing right now, will be replaced with depth as they mature and grow into themselves. And I can't wait to see the wonderful young women they become...but I'll always have those memories of when they were young enough to need me and that was all.

Coincidentally, these two little girls are rocking the Cambridge boat. They've been cast in a movie as the daughter of Ben Barnes (the guy who played Prince Caspian; I know, right?). And not so recently, one of them has dumped her boyfriend for a girl. They're also obsessed with RENT, just like me. Great, aren't they?

Also, on the topic of movie musicals: I HAVE FIGURED OUT WHY "RENT" DID NOT DO WELL. Or rather, I have figured out how to make a successful movie musical. See, what many mainstream movie audiences don't identify with is people randomly bursting out into song in the middle of real life. Successful movie musicals, like "Chicago" and "Dreamgirls" and "Cabaret", all incorporated the musical numbers into the story as either 1) performances by the characters, such as The Dreams or Sally Bowles at the club or 2) out-of-body-and/or-storyline experiences, such as the "Chicago" thing of having all the characters, like, perform the songs in a surreal theater setting. RENT is sort of inseparable from its songs, like "Light My Candle" and "I Should Tell You" and so on. It's also set in a time period that hasn't yet been romanticized; a lot of adults today experienced the 90's and the shit that came with them, and they're not ready yet to accept a musical about it all. All of the "people, stop whining about your rent and grow up" complainers don't seem to be able to sympathize with the emotional parts of the show, which is where its real appeal is. But whatever, Ilove RENT and anyone who doesn't...is dumb.

G'night!

Your Eyes

You know, it's weird...I'm sitting here and looking at a picture of Michael Jackson from the cover of the Thriller album--which, by the way, is the featured article on Wikipedia today--and I noticed something: even after all the ways he screwed around with his own face, the pain and trauma he put it through, and the hatred he must have felt for himself, he always had the same eyes. This sounds incredibly cheesy, but look closely. On the Thriller cover, he has this look on his face that, yes, is probably the product of a million makeup artists and photo assistants and cover art-artists...but still, there's something there. His eyes are very dark and very deep, and very...well, very knowing. Not only that, they're cool. Not a lot of warmth in those eyes.

Much later on, when he was this twisted little husk of a human body, he still had those eyes. He still had that far-reaching, focused stare that you can see in the young man with the white glove.

Dunno. Just dunno.

Gah, I Tell You. GAH.

Ever find that one song that doesn't get old for you, ever? Like, you still enjoy it during fads and trends and all that, and it just frigging endures for you? I have that song. It is called "Never Leave Your Heart Alone", by Butterfly Boucher, this Christian rock band from Australia. Yeah, Christian rock? Not usually my thing. This song, however, is. I found it on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack (so sue me) and it's all thumpy and piano-y and harmony-y and generally sort of cool. I don't know WHY I'm so into it, but I am. I just never get tired of it.

Other songs that clutter up my earphones recently: I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry, The First Single by The Format, Undead by Brynna Campbell, Strangers Like Me by Phil Collins, RENT/Spring Awakening (as per usual, at least in relation to the RENT), and Wicked Little Town from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Some of these are longtimes listens, some are not. Whatever, they're all kick-ass.

Okay, so here's a NEWish problem. Yeah, I bitch about my problems with my dad a lot. Whatever, everyone has shit to deal with. The thing is, I know he loves me and my sister more than pretty much anything else in the world, and I love him too. That's not the issue; the issue is that he tends to act like the biggest of wankers, but I digress. The point is, he may be an idiot at times, but he's not a bad person. In fact, he's a wonderful man. A genuinely screwed up, sometimes childish, wonderful man. It's who he is.

But with the summer approaching in full force, I realize that he's actually very smothering in some ways. Think about it: I'm a divorced kid. Most divorced kids spend weekends and holidays with one parent. I switch back and forth halfway through the week. It's extremely stressful, and usually results in my stuff getting lost and my plans being screwed up. I miss my dad, but I AM NOT ELEVEN YEARS OLD ANYMORE. I need my freedom, I need to be able to say, "No, Dad, I want to be away from you for a while, and that needs to be okay." I was on vacation with him for a full week, without seeing anyone other than my family, and now he has a camping trip planned in the middle of my work schedule. If I say anything about feeling obligated to spend too much time with the family and at home, he pulls a sad face and starts going on about accepting he is of the time I want to spend with my friends, and he knows I want to have time to myself, and he gives me that, and it's not too much to ask for for me to be at home every once in a while, is it?

Dad, you plan family excursions every chance you get and never let me not go without feeling hugely guilty. The more time I spend around you, the less I actually enjoy. You're smothering me. I know I need to be "accountable" to you like you say, but I'm growing up. You can't keep planning my life out for me. I need to make my own mistakes and take action on my own behalf. I don't want you to do all this. Let me go, Dad. Please.

4th of July

Awesome, awesome 4th of July. Okay, maybe not totally and completely awesome, but still pretty awesome.

I spent about seven hours hanging around on the waterfront right near MIT. At first it was me, Will, Christine, and and Ariel; then Ariel left and we were very sad to see her go. Then it was me, Will, and Christine for many, many hours, and let me tell you, there are not many in the people in the world that I can have that much fun with for that long. J squared (Julia and Joe) joined us about half an hour before the fireworks.

Okay, what exactly did we spend all that time doing? Well...not much, really. Mostly we chomped on homemade fried chicken (thank you, Will) pretty colored marshmallows (thank you, Ariel) and yummy fluffy chocolate cake (thank you--oh wait, that was me). We all lay down on each other, which was really comfy: Will and Christine are both EXCELLENT pillows, especially Christine, because she is abnormally adorable and squeaks a lot and gets all jumpy when she laughs which is fun when you are lying with your head on her tummy. We also discussed Will being weirdly similar to Christine's boyfriend and generally awesome person, Dan (who couldn't be there, damn his eyes) and sang musicals and had oodles of fun. When Julia and Joe finally showed, there was even more lying on each other and laughing and hitting people; Joe has had way too many concussions and I KEPT HITTING HIM ON THE HEAD BECAUSE I FORGOT, and luckily he was a good sport and did not snap my hand off at the wrist, as some people might have done around the fourth or fifth time.

The fireworks were gorgeous; we ooooohed and aaaaahed, and Julia pointed out how bad it was the environment, and we shushed her. And Will and I kept boosting Christine up, because she is vertically challenged, shall we say, and we might have been boosting her against her will, but we meant well, so it doesn't matter. I also spent most of the time hugging Will, who is an excellent tool for keeping warm. He's also FUZZY.

After the fireworks, we hung out at the river for a while longer and then traipsed up the river to Trader Joe's, where J squared and Christine met their ride. Will walked me home, gentleman that he is, and now here I am.

The awesome of tonght was lessened because I ditched anther group of friends in a thoroughly scummy way--not like I was purposefully trying to ditch them and was mean about it, but like I kept promising I would show and then didn't and basically acted like a douchebag of utter douchey-ness. It seems some other people caught the Jerk Flu, so at least I wasn't the only one. On the other hand, that means the non-jerk people suffered even more...ah, whatever. It was bad, I will try to make up for it, end of story.

Something happened today that made me think a bit. The music from the Shell, or from somewhere, whatever, was echoing over to us, and at one point they started playing the national anthem. Loads of people around us were standing up and putting their hands over their hearts, singing along with the music. Christine and I sat up; that was it. And I realized: I am not ready to stand up and salute to the national anthem just yet.

I know how this sounds. "Spoiled liberal American girl is whining about her country that gives her more benefits than any other nation on earth! What right could she possibly have to act all high and mighty about the country where she has rights and luxuries many kids her age will never dream about, let alone actually have?" But the thing is--you know what, I can't believe I am doing this, but I will. I am going to use Ally McBeal as an example.

In this show, one female character is ranting about all her problems to her female friend. Her issues are, in fact, rather petty. While her friend doesn't say a word, she finishes her speech and says, "Thanks, I feel a lot better." Her friend then asks, "Ally, what exactly makes your problems so much bigger than anyone else's?" With a completely straight face, Ally replies, "They're mine."

A kid in Uganda has problems I could never imagine. I have luxuries that kid could never imagine. But that doesn't mean bad things can't happen to me, and I'm not allowed to be unhappy or angry about those things. It also doesn't mean that kid in Uganda can't be really happy about good things. We all have our lives to live; and while we shouldn't be allowed to forget and ignore people who have real, terrible stuff to deal with (war, starvation, AIDS, and sexual abuse, just to name a casual few) which is actually a big danger of the apathy in the American public, we can't let our attention to other people's problems stop us from paying attention to ourselves. I want to be happy and sad about my own life; and I also want to do things to help people who are in much worse situations than I am. I can do both. I will do both.

This country is taking stpes forward, but we are leagues away from being something that, morally, I can be proud of. These rights and luxuries we take for granted come from a ton of corrupt sources, and truthfully, I think ending that suffering and corruption is more important than some of the benefits we get for living in the US. Like, for instance, cable T.V. And laptops. And central air-conditioning. Honestly, we can do without those things. We may not want to, but hey, even without them we are WAY better off than the rest of the world.

I'm sort of wallowing in my own hypocrisy, I know. The thing is, I don't think I'm the kind of person who will be able to make a big change. I don't have that kind of fire inside me. But I want to do what I can without letting my guilt and feelings of obligation push me into something that I'm not the right person for. Hey, maybe I am actually the right person. But I'm not even legally allowed to drive yet. I think I need some time to figure out what role I'll have in making the world a better place.

Wow, off on a crazy tangent. My point (and I do have): I'm not ready to salute the anthem or the flag. So sue me. Hypocrite I may be, but I'm a hypocrite with opinions. Plus, I live in Massachusetts, where you don't get dirty looks for ignoring the Pledge of Allegiance.

I have more to say, but I'm too tired. I'm gonna go to bed now. Also, a shout out to Sierra, who's in England now! I love you, babe, have a great time! I'll write, I promise!

Goddamnit

This is wrong. This is INSANE. On the one hand, none of us are being abused physically or stolen from or anything, and no one in the family is an alcoholic/addicted to meth or something. On the other hand, this can't go on. IT CAN'T. Our problems may not be Oprah-worthy, but they sure as hell are serious. This can't go on.

The cops. THE COPS wondered what was wrong. And now she's packing, tramping around the house shoveling books and clothing into bags to make it look like she doesn't live here. What the fucking kind of person does that?

I want him to admit she has a problem. I want her to get help. I don't want this endless merry-go-round of "it's okay, everything's better, we're fine now, seriously, Es, believe us" to "*giant huge screaming battle of the ages*" to "*crying and whimpering in closed rooms*" to "I don't know what to do, everything's my fault, I try so hard" to "nothing feels better, but it looks better" to the beginning. It's awful. It's horrible. And unlike my sister and I, our stepsibs can't escape. They're basically trapped here.

THIS. HAS. TO. END. NOW.