Sometimes, when I'm driving to school or the grocery store, I dream about not taking my turn and just driving on, past my school and home and tiny little, homogeneous home-town. The dream never goes further than that split-second when I would decide; it's not so much a dream, anyways, as a sudden irresistible impulse. But I do manage to resist, no matter how tempting, every time.
I haven't figured out if that's a good thing.
...but I have alumni interviews for Harvard and Brown. And it makes me happy. Though honestly, even if I do get into either school [as massively unlikely as that is] I'm not sure I'd go. I prefer the small liberal arts thing; then again, I know some ah-MAH-zing people who went to Harvard--who can say no to that? And Brown would mean I could cross-register at RISD! heh. I make myself laugh. :]
Go read it. Now. It is seriously the best book I've ever read. I just read it for the second time and I STILL get that good book feeling...for the record, I generally only get that after reading a book for the first time, no matter how many times I've read it.
...and ended up a beast. This is an epicly long personal essay about me being queer and my relationship with my mother. It's definitely still a work in progress, so I'd love any and all feedback.
*NOTE: All the dialogue was in italics before I copy and pasted it, and now isn't...sorry if that causes any confusion, but I'm kinda too lazy too fix it. :] *
I hate high school with every bone of my body. I have very few friends and the ones I did have were older and have thus graduated and moved on to bigger and better things, leaving me alone.
June 2007: "I kinda like this girl, GW. [...] Oh, did I mention [she] was gay?
I mean, I liked her before I knew that--I've liked her for years (pathetic, I know, shut up), and she came out last year. A few months before she came out, I had started questioning, realized I liked her, etc. And then she came out and it was like...shiiit.
Long story short: I'm at dork camp. I have a roommate. Roommate and I are pretty close--we hang out a fair amount and stuff. Now, a lot of the girls talk about guys. And when I say talk about guys, I mean continually obsess over them. It's kinda crazy, not gonna lie.
Earlier this week I had a beatdown with a-now-ex-friend. Basically, she'd been a bitch/taking advantage of me and my family for years, and my sisters and I finally burst. It started 'cause she was a bitch to my sister when she just asked her how she was...and then it spiraled into an epic fight.
So, I have this friend. We're not insanely close, but we're pretty good friends, and I'm familiar with her family and all. This year we've gotten closer, if only because we have a class together.
So there's this girl.
I've talked about here before--she's the one who was in my history of women class. (which we're not talking about, as apparently it's a sore subject at Oasis :])
I have no patience for tears.
It's not that I don't cry, because I do--a fair amount, actually. It's just that when I do, I do so in the privacy of my own room. I'll have none of this public crying nonsense--tearing up, yes, but full-out crying? Not so much.
Is it just me, or is there an awful lot of new people here at Oasis? At least, that's what it seems like to me.
But anyways. Before I get to the actual part of my post I just want to say something to everybody here at Oasis--that is, I want to introduce something to you. They're called paragraphs.
And by slept with, I mean I shared a bed and we literally went to sleep. Not, y'know, anything sexual. But it got you reading, didn't it?
So yeah. I don't really have anything to say, but I do have two large papers to write and SATs to study for. Therefore, it's time to write a journal entry--flawless logic, I know.
Something I wrote for my brand-new semester elective, Advanced Writing. I think I'll leave it at that--knowing the prompt makes it not as fun, I think. Kinda ruins the (nonexistent) suspense. Anyways, comments + constructive criticism would be awesome!
So I'm the midget lesbian, except I'm not really sure about the lesbian bit (unfortunately, I'm quite sure about the midget part) and besides, pastoral implies something pleasant, which this is anything but.
Anyways, hello again. I'm back for one of my semi-annual and entirely unfair unloadings upon the folks at Oasis.