There's a Song Like That

"Do you remember the time
That we woke up at dawn
And the fog was thick
And we hid from each other?
Yeah, there's a song like that.

And do you remember the time
That I cried and you were there
The times we were all we had
And we thought our lives would fall apart?
Cause there's a song like that.

And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.

Do you remember sitting up
At three AM
And wondering where our lives would lead?
And now we see each other twice a year
And we wonder, where's the song like that?

Where's the song that told us
We'd be apart?
Where's the song that told us
How hard this would be?
But maybe someday we'll find a song like that.

And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.

Cause I remember wishing
That we weren't so innocent
But now we aren't and we're crying
In the dead of night to get it back
Yeah....that's our song like that.

We wake up in the morning
And we follow a routine
No more spontaneous for us
And we wish we could go back
To when we had a song like that.

Cause when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that."

Aaaaand I'm back!

Yay! I'm back!
I got to South Carolina on Saturday, and let me tell you, it has been a wonderful time so far. Riding horse, getting lessons, seeing friends, listening to music, and sleeping in a quiet house.
I went to my litte sister's play on Sunday night, and it was extremely enjoyable. All of the kids did a wonderful job, and the producers and directors were awesome as well. I enjoyed socializing afterwards with everyone, although I must have answered the same questions a million times- "Where are you living now?" "How is your mom?" "How many siblings do you have now?" "What have you been doing with yourself?"- and now my life is even more boring than even I thought it was.
SO far this week, Jewel and I have just been going over old memories, laughing at them, and creating new ones. I mean, how many times do you get to say, "Ouch! the ceiling hit me in the face!"
Glo is gone this time around, and I really miss her. There isn't anyone to scold us when we stay up too late, or give out back massages, or take us into town whenever we want. I miss her quite a bit, but I know she is having fun where she is. And I'm really happy for her.
I got my first English riding lesson the other day, and it was really interesting. I'm just so used to Western that I could hardly do it right. But I think I managed to sit right once for about 3 seconds, so it's a step in the right direction!
Right now though, I need to sign off cause it's not raining as much anymore and WE SHOULD PROBS HEAD DOWN TO DHEC JULES- sorry had to yell that at her.
Lataaaaasss!

Learning to be Happy

So this was my epiphany over the summer, thanks to my wonderful therapist and just my time away from school:

I was miserable last year. I was bullied, depressed, angry, and learning to deal with a new me. Over the summer, I decided to live it up. Be happy.
And I was.
Every day, I slept in late, and stayed up and out of the house until at least 3 AM, sometimes later- a few times I didn't get home til my dad was up getting ready for work and I'd walk in the door. I was tired, but I was so happy.
I was spending most of my weeks with my boyfriend, his sister, her boyfriend (who is also my best friend), her best friend (who is now my best friend as well), and their dad. We stayed up late playing Dungeons and Dragons, Pinochle, Poker, Wizard, video games, going to Geeksboro, chillin' in my backyard, attempting urban exploring at night, all sorts of things. Often it was 2 AM and the night was still young.
During all this, we all got closer. This was our group.

And for the first time in a very, very, long time, I was somewhere where I felt accepted for who I was, disorders, weird quirks, and all, and I felt like I belonged.
And that is the best feeling ever.
This led me to realize that I deserve to feel happy. I deserve to feel loved. My past has nothing to with my present, and I am free to really be me. No more religion clouding my views. No more abuse. No more worrying about what will make others happy.

Instead, I started thinking about what would make me happy. When I get old, what am I going to say about my life? That I was sad, but I made others happy? Or that I didn't worry about what made others happy, and I made myself happy, and didn't worry about what people would think of my tattoo 40 years down the road when it starts to fade?
My view now is that as long as I am happy now, I will be happy later because I will have some amazing memories to share. Not being stupid to make myself happy, but actually having fun with people I love who love me.
So when band camp came around, I was ready to take on my senior year. I started coming out of my shell and making myself known and it has already worked miracles for me. I have more friends than I did last year.
I stood up for myself to the guy that has bullied me since freshman year and we are almost friendly to each other.
I am Uniform Manager for my band and it's awesome being able to make Kimbrough's job easier, plus making going to the games easier to get ready for. And I'm still ready to take on senior year.
I'm a big girl now. It's time to pull on my steel toed shoes and step out into the real world, no matter how scary and terrifying it is. And I'm thankful to my mom and step dad for forcing me to see the raw stuff, and not sheltering me from everything that's out there.
Cause now I feel like I'm actually ready.
I don't have everything figured out- far from it. I feel like I can't see any type of future for myself anywhere, and that scares me. But as long as I am happy, and as long as I keep trying, there will be something out there for me.

So I'm going over the Holocaust for my US History class.

I didn't know until a few months ago that the word Holocaust actually meant something.
It means, "Burnt Sacrifice."

When I was sitting in class, we had just finished watching some footage from Auschwitz, the death camp. I was already feeling nauseous and my head was screaming (I'm an impath, which is a different conversation/story you can message me about if you want, so it's doubly bad for me), but when I heard that definition, I almost threw up from the impact.

Burnt Sacrifice. God's chosen people, his holy children, burnt as a sacrifice. A peace offering? A sin offering? Retribution? Repentance? And what for? They are his chosen ones, Abram's offspring. Does a father give his favorite son the worst punishment of all?
The torturing, the screaming, the brutality, the insanity of this insanity?

I really appreciated what was carved on the cell wall of one victim- it echoes so many feelings inside, not only of my own life, but of the Holocaust: "If there is a God up there, he's going to have to beg my forgiveness."

Rant #2.

I somehow don't know where to begin this one. This one is a very touchy subject for me for many reasons. I don't want to upset people, but this probably will. I don't want to disappoint people, but this probably will. I will probably shock most of you and my dad and/or stepmom will probably call me in the next few days (love you guys!).

I saw a post earlier today by none other than the esteemed Kirk Cameron. Yeah, I like the guy. He seems pretty cool, and he's got a good sense of humor. But I disagree with him on some stuff (who agrees with everything someone believes?).

(SIDE NOTE: trying to keep my computer alive right now, this power cord doesn't really work and this might end up being posted later than I wanted it to. It's currently 2 in the morning and my meds are keeping me up but my mind is so tired I just want to sleep forever so this power cord thing might just be the last straw for tonight.)

So back to the post by Kirk.

It was about how sad premarital sex is.

Really? Really.

Ok, so, big deal. I've been taught since birth that you don't do shit with a guy until you're married. I mean, I grew up Amish. You don't even look the guy in the eyes until your wedding day (slight exaggeration there...maybe), much less hold hands, kiss, and no one even thinks about having sex because that is an unmentionable. I'm not getting into the different types of Amish here, so don't call me out on my Amish dating techniques. I know they all vary as much as different planets, I'm just giving the example of what type I grew up with.
So what is the big deal????
The big deal is, I don't agree with him. I don't agree with the way I was raised. I don't really *Want* to wait until my wedding night.
I admire the bravery of those of you who were virgins (or will be) on your wedding night.

I also admire your pain threshold. That shit is a mother.

My big deal is, why are we making our kids feel bad for taking part in something that is perfectly normal?? Yes, it's pretty damn special.
Yes, you're becoming one with another person, be they male, female, trans, bi, asexual, whatever. It's pretty special. And I don't think you should have sex until you know for sure and batshit certain that they are The One.

That said, I'm not going to make people that have sex with others besides Their One feel bad. I'm not going to walk around slut shaming or judging or creating depressing fanfiction about girls that are miserable for having sex just to get people to stop having sex.
From the beginning, sex has somehow been an expression of love. I love you. Let me show you just how much by taking you to a whole new level of happiness, by waking up your body and your emotions in a way they never have before. And that's pretty fantastic.
But this doesn't mean that it's wrong to express love to other people before you get married. This was never meant to be a wrong thing, a dirty thing, something we quickly tell our children to get away from while watching shows about ruined life and shoving birth control and condoms down their throat.
All that does is confuse them and give them inhibitions about their first time, no matter the circumstances.
Especially now that we have so much porn and R-rated movies all giving us unrealistic expectations about our first time.
So much so that now we expect a certain length in guys and certain boob sizes are considered to be acceptable while other's are just plain unattractive.
Suddenly if we don't look like porn stars, if our first time or second time or hell, even our bajillionth time didn't go like our favorite porno, we are awful at sex and then the dissatisfaction begins and the downward spiral in relationships begins.

Am i saying that sex shouldn't be awesome?
Am I saying that it is not special?
Am I saying that we should walk around and have sex with everything and everyone in sight?

None of the above.
What I AM saying is that, if someone wants to have sex, don't hate them for it. Encourage them to use protection. Encourage them to not have high expectations for their first time. Tell them everything you wish someone had told you about their first time so that they are prepared for all of the obstacles and the don't despise themselves afterwards. You can even strongly recommend that they wait a little longer to know for sure that they are doing the right thing, that they aren't just thinking in the moment, that they've taken time to talk to their partner and logically go through things.

But please, no slut shaming, no disapproval, no condemnation. Let them decide. It's their body, their life, you have no choice in the matter.

"I've found my Prince Charming."
How many times have I said that about the truly charming man I have by my side, the one that the powers that be have given to me to provide me with a guide, a soul mate, and someone that fulfills every need? Too many.

Honestly, I never should have said it.

I HATE Prince Charming.

Let me explain. I love my boyfriend with the kind of love that when I was little, I never thought I could possess- I didn't understand it. I knew that it was special. I knew that it was powerful beyond words. I knew that it hurt like hell.
And I knew, above all else, it was worth whatever demons and devils you fought against just for that love. Because if you're going to have that love, you're going to have to fight for it, or else it just isn't real.

But, Prince Charming? Superman (sorry, mom)? Knight in Shining Armor?

No. These characters are all either superficial womanizers who are more shallow than the shallow end of a pool or, they place a spandex suit and polishing their armor above fighting for a love that lasts.

I am sorry, but you cannot have the kind of love that lasts at first sight. Am I a believer in a *kind* of love at first sight? Yes, absolutely. My boyfriend loved me like that the very first time he saw me. But that isn't the love he has for me now.

Prince Charming was just so enraptured by Cinderella's boobs that he had to have her (that dress had a low neck, guys), and couldn't remember her face even after a few moments, therefore had to travel his kingdom looking for that same rack. Superman loved his suit. And yes, he saved the city and the people in it. But how many times did he lie to Lois just because he was a coward and couldn't come out and confess his love for her even though he was a geek (nothing wrong with geeks, but it is what it is). He was not confident in himself, and you cannot love someone fully until you learn to love yourself. The Knights in Shining Armor. Psht. You have the problem right there.

His freaking armor is SHINY.

Not only has he then not fought in any battles, he is so concerned with catching girls with something shiny that he probably neglects his training and is a soft wimp by now.

I honestly prefer someone who's been through shit. Someone who knows what heartache and pain are. Someone who cares more about me, inside me, than my rack (which is basically nonexistent) and my looks and attracting me with shiny things.

Rant #1 over. Rant #2 coming soon.

I'm a Senior!!!
After these last two loooooonnng years of walking down the same old halls, sitting in the same old seats, listening to the same old teachers drone on and on about the difference between Mitosis and Meiosis, the reason WWII started, what the two meanings of the word 'Apostrophe' means, after playing the same 4 measures over and over, dissecting a polynomial by the Quadratic Formula and getting the wrong answer every time, after singing the same songs for months.....
I'm a Senior.
After skipping down the halls with my friends, being chased by my boyfriend for one last kiss before the bell rings, after sharing a snack during World History with a few kids who are as hungry as me, sitting beside a really shy kid as awkward as me and finding that we're both ok with being awkward together, after every day of getting to play my problems away through some of the most awesome music I have ever played in my entire life, after meeting a teacher who was willing to sit with me in the early mornings and explain to me *why* Trigonometry worked until I got it and was the class star at Trig and Stats, after finding my place and helping create music that will live on for future classes............

I'm a Senior.

It's my last year at Northern.
My last Marching Band Season.
And by God, we'd better go to another State Championship.
I used to watch the Senior's faces as we stood in the stands- watched them as they wondered if this would be their last game, their last Fight Song, their last crazy cheer, their last field show, their last crazy marching style back to the band room where we celebrated like family.

Now, that's going to be me. While I hold my flute or sax up high, I'm going to be wondering, in the back of my mind, Is this the last time I will celebrate for another touchdown? Is this the last time I will wear my uniform? is this the last time I will march through my drill, stand at attention and hear the applause of the crowd? Is this my last stand? That's going to be me!
I'm going to be the kid that looks at all the Juniors aching to get out and I'm going to tell them, don't wish your high school years away.

Yeah, it has sucked, and it has sucked hard.
And yes, I hate school.
But there are some things that I would stay in high school forever for.
Marching Band, and every single moment that comes with it- the good, the bad, the ugly, the bitchy, the amazing, the fantastic.
Some of my teachers. Mr Simpson, Ms Barrentine, Mr Kimbrough. Life changing teachers- all personally interested in where you're headed and what they can do to help you get there.
Lunch ladies that dance with you in the cafeteria after school while you're celebrating the last day of school.
Random bus drivers that let you get in their bus so you can ride home with your friend.
Guidance counselors that surround you to help you graduate early, Principles and administrators that tease you and say hello every time they see you.

When I graduate, I'm going to walk out of those doors crying, but smiling through my tears.
Because I did it. I worked and fought through online classes, bullies, and fake friends just so I could have the honor of being one of Northern's first few students to graduate early. Just so I didn't have to stay in school til I was 20.
I'm going to walk up on that stage, get my diploma, and throw my cap in the air because I made it. Against all odds, I made it.
But I'm going to cry.
Because- no more marching band. No more late night parties where we celebrate another football game won. No more running up to Kimbrough after the game to get a celebratory hug and no more band camp.
No more watching Kimbrough dunk a basketball on his birthday. No more tugging and pulling and readjusting stinky uniforms that make us feel so tall and proud. No more gloves that don't fit, no more freezing nights where we huddle together to keep warm as we watch the football team score.

How bittersweet is this?

Saw the first stanza on Tumblr and since I am a poet I decided I would expand it. If it gets back to the original author, let me know- I don't want to plagiarize and I want to give credit where credit is due. To the author....Thank you so much for giving me some inspiration when I had a block. I owe you.



For the constellations of your skin
To brush against the earth of mine
I would swim the seas a thousand times.

For the breeze of your breath
To slip through my lips
I would walk a thousand shores.

For the fire of your love
To send a spark to my heart
I would die a thousand deaths.

For the pull of your tide
To pull me into your arms
I would live a thousand lives.

For our love to live on
For our lives to entertwine
I would go through a thousand lives.

Being the Daughter of an Herb-freak in Today's Society

Yes, my mom is an herb freak. But I am too. I love it when someone is sick and I can make them feel better through herbs and natural remedies. It's awesome when you can do that.
Everything I've learned about herbs has come from my mom- or at least she has given me the permission and revenues to do so and is not opposed to me experimenting on myself and the kids with different herbs.
But how do you do this when some herbs are illegal? When do you decide that helping someone is more important than not breaking the law? There are some people that would say to obey the law no matter what, and that's fine. I understand their view- after all, Jesus did say to obey the government.
And then there are people like me, who say that if God created it and it's growing on this earth, then we have no right to make it illegal and keep people from a healthy cure. God created it for a reason- and there are so many uses for it that can save lives.
By this time you know I'm talking about Marijuana- or weed, or pot, or MaryJane, or whatever the hell you want to call it.
The government has made us believe so many bad things about it (most of which are true, I will admit) but they are only showing us the bad side, they don't let us see the good healthy side.
How many of us know:
- weed will help with, if not totally cure, asthma. It clears your lungs (misspelled that to say lunch- can you tell I'm hungry?), and helps you breathe better.
-It also makes you think more clearly (If taken in moderate amounts, not if you inhale unhealthy amounts).
-It has been proven to hunt out cancerous cells and kill them- or at least, if not cure you, to work better than chemo and radiation.
-It's also relaxing, much like wine is, only more healthy and more relaxing. It's the perfect finish to a hectic week or even day. This also will lead to a better rest.
-If you are nervous and cannot eat, or your appetite in general is just going down the drain and you're sick and can't eat, take a few hits. Your appetite will come back, without you being high.
-It will cure headaches, stomach aches, and colds.

There are so many uses for it, and yet the government has us convinced that the only things it does is make you a bum, your teeth rot out, and act stupid.
Which, it can, if you don't do it right. But society also has put a lot of stereotypes on it and therefore that's how we see it. The government doesn't like it because it can't really make money off of it. Sure, I mean, if the government is gonna sell it like they sell other medicine, then yes, they can tax it.

But are you really gonna trust an herb that has been messed with by the government? No. Because they will process it and take all the 'healthy' out of it, just like they do raw milk, and you'll get nothing out of it. The government realizes that this will happen, and so they don't make it legal because they know that you're gonna start growing it yourself and then they can't make money on that. Exactly like they've done with raw milk.
SO yeah, it kinda isn't fun being an herb-freak but not being allowed to use one of the most important medicines. Like if you took anesthesia from an anesthesiologist. He wouldn't really have a job! You take pot away from an herb-freak, and you take away the most powerful tool we have.
You can draw your own conclusions from this post. I'm just saying, if it weren't illegal, a lot more people would be/could be a lot healthier.



Thanks to my bro (you know who you are man) and my best friend (yeah, you know who you are too) for teaching me about the uses of herbs and weed.

I'm back.
I'm back where I have always belonged, where I probably always will belong. With Jewel and the Martins in SC (yes Jewel, I'm going to stay with you forever).
I got here yesterday, after a very long car ride from home, and was very excited to immediately set out on horseback to the church soccer game. The game was pretty awesome- I hadn't played in two years, but it started to all come back to me. I even kicked the ball a few times XD
By the time we got home, I was tired and already sore, so we sort of fell into bed and went to sleep. Early this morning we woke up, did the chores (that is to say, Jewel did the chores and I played with my filly, Lilybet. I love her), saddled up Blaze and Giselle and headed down to DHEC (Dancing Horses Equestrian Center), where Jewel took a few horses through their paces, and Blaze and I got reacquainted (and he remembered that I'm boss.). We took Blaze and another pony (Jewel's show pony) through the course (Well, I loped Blaze around while she did some jumps, then we took them both through the water), which ended up being very interesting.
We came home for a few minutes, grabbed some food, and then headed out to Cameron's, where I mucked out the barn while Jewel took the horses out, and then we both cleaned the paddocks.
Now we're both home. Well, that's not true. I'm home, she went to one more place and then she'll be home. Right now everyone is leaving for the meal at the prison, and me and Gwen are going to be home alone until Jewel gets back.
Tata for now ;)

Staring at screens
Reading long books that have no words
At least
I don't really see them
I watch a show
But it doesn't make sense
To me
Because
I don't really
Hear
Anything
Nothing at all.
At school, we learn about
The Holocaust.
It's ok.
Until we get to the images.
The images are what break me.
Not because
Of some gore
Not the emaciated bodies
But it's the screams
It's the voices. The
voices
That scream
That cry out to me
I hear them in my head
They won't stop.
No one else hears them.
They sit there like
This is normal
That they see this
Everyday
Like there is nothing to hear.
Do they not hear them?
Do they not hear the screams?
Can they not understand the
Pleas
The voices
Begging for help?
Once they realize you can hear them
Once they realize you
Can understand them
They will not leave you alone.
They will flood your dreams
With so many colors
(Mainly red)
They will blast their emotions
(Mostly pain and fear)
They will dance to the music
(Music of the guns)
And they won't be still
Until you force them away with
Music.
Music that is so loud it hurts your ears.
You close your eyes
Tightly, now,
And begin to mouth the words.
Focus on the song.
Forget the world
Outside
Your ears exists
Forget the world
Inside
Your very ears can speak
Focus only on the music
That alone will keep the
Masses silent
That alone will make them
Shut up.
Feel the beat.
Let it be so loud
That it rocks you.
It becomes the heart
Of the body.
Let it be your
Driving force.
The thing that
Keeps you alive, the
Thing that protects you.
Don't feel guilty.
You should.
But don't. Don't let it
Take over, don't
Let it tell you
You were
Wrong.
If you look at pictures
And they begin screaming
Scream back at them
Tell them to leave you alone.
They won't,
But it's worth a shot.
And we all say you're crazy.
You say
I'm crazy.
You will not listen
But I know.
I know what I know.
I know what I have been through.
And you don't want it.
But neither do I want
It to go away.
I wouldn't wish
This on my worst enemy.
But I will not part
With this curse.
I don't know
Why it happened to me.
I don't know
Why I want it.
But I will
Not
Part
With it.

Lately I've been on some sort of reading marathon in an effort to forget my problems for a little while- escape into the world of murder mysteries or the euphoric lands of unicorns and faeries or even dive down to the underworld to explore unknown regions with dark haired, blue eyed vamps who don't know when I attatch myself to their shadow as they fight a werewolf.
I seem to be on a muder mystery trend right now, reading the Cat Who books. I just emerged from the world of Orson Scott Card- and I thouroughly enjoyed Seventh Son and Red Prophet. I find he writes with a certain humor that makes me giggle out loud in class- and not many books can do that. They might get a smile out of me, but it is a talented writer that can make me laugh.
My latest book, one in the aforementioned The Cat Who series -The Cat Who Turned On and Off- is particularly interesting. I enjoy trying to solve the case before Qwill does, and I might have the answer. I've learned, in watching crime shows and reading books, that the most likely suspect is usually not the guy that did it, even when all evidence points to him/her. Innocent until proven guilty!
Qwill's cats are my favorite animals in any story so far- KoKo and Yum Yum are two siamese cats who are smarter than your average housecat. And, of course, as normal cats, you cannot own them. As Qwill so perfectly puts it: "No one can ever own a cat. You share a common habitation on a basis of equal rights and mutual respect...although somehow the cat always comes out ahead of the deal." (Page 128, paragraph 5)
Its so true!! The way cat's arch their backs, and look down on you no matter what you do. And you always seem to be on their schedule.
A few months ago, I was priveledged to be able to borrow the most remarkable Holocaust book, The Book Theif. This has definetly got to be the most astounding and intellectual book written about the Holocaust that I have ever read. It is written from the perspective of a Hitler Youth member, a Jew, and two conflicted parents. The interesting twist on this, however, is that it is narrated by Death himself. The glorious, terrifying, wonderful moster that all life fears but has no reason to, tells this story of love, loss, and lessons in forgiveness. However, contrary to what it sounds like, this book is not morbid at all.
It's one of those books where you look up after finishing and you wonder how the rest of the world can go on normally. It has the habit of sneaking into your dreams at night and you feel what every character feels. The desperate hope of freedom, of safety, and the horror of dangers.
Once you are finished with that book, come back here and let me know if you can live your life like a normal person.

"When I was a kid
I had a friend.
He scared me, often,
And I never knew how much
I loved him.
How much
I'd miss him.
His name was
The Boogey Man.
He was the monster under
My bed.
He smiled at me, but
I thought it was
A sneer.
He frightened me and often
I dove for
Safety
Under my covers.
And then I
Grew up.
Sadly.
The Boogey Man
Cried,
The day that I looked
Him straight in the eye
Without
A
Flinch.
You see, even
Though it hurt him
When I was afraid,
At least it was
Some form of
Acknowledgement
For the lonely soul.
But now I was
Gone.
The little girl
That hugged stuffed
Animals,
Couldn't sleep without them,
Was
Gone.
And The Boogey Man,
The wise
Boogey Man,
Knew
It was
A
Very
Bad
Thing.
The Boogey Man knew
That if she grew up
This
Fast
That she would not
Be ready
For his cousins,
Life
And
Hell.
They were cruel
And showed no mercy
To anyone
Young
Old
Innocent.
But The Boogey Man,
The kind
Boogey Man
Knew
That even though
She had been afraid
Of him
She probably wasn't now.
So
He visited.
Sometimes every night
Sometimes once
A month.
But always
When she
Needed
Him.
When she was sad
He would stand
By her bed
When she was
Worried
Or
Stressed
He would sit
Quietly on the floor
Or play
Peek-a-boo
From under the bed (his old haunt during her innocence)
She couldn't always
See him
But she knew
That he was
There.
And the knowing...
It was enough.
It was enough
That someone,
Even an
Invisible
Childhood Terror
Cared enough
To
Try
To take her
Back
To childhood
Even if for a day."

I've gotten to a point in my life where I am having a really hard time finding something to write about. Not much is going on in my life right now, honestly, other than the normal hurried business trying to find out what classes I'm taking online for early graduation. That's right, I got approved by the head honcho himself, and I'm gong to busy...extremely busy, for the next year and a few months of my life.

I think I'm going to have to learn pretty quickly how to juggle a semi-social life, a gorgeous, handsome, kind guy with a perfect relationship, regular school days and abnormal nights and weekends. Oh, and did I mention a job?

It's going to be insane. But I'll try.

Oh jeez. The Zero Period next year. You know, that's really gonna suck. I'm gonna have to get up even earlier...ugh.

Anyway, enough griping. I'm happy to be graduating early, graduating with my rightful class and my boyfriend so that we can go to college together and stay together and live our lives together. I can't wait to walk across that stage in a black and purple gown and get that diploma I've worked hard for.

In other news, I talked to my man, and we agreed that I can get some tattoos. 3, to be exact. My first one is going to be on my left side, about 2 inches above my hip. Sanskrit for "A Beautiful Mistake." It's going to represent my relationship with Christian, along the same lines as "You must be a fool to fall in love" kind of thing. The second is going to be on the bottom of my left wrist-I found a really cool tatt of a treble and a bass clef in one, so I'm going to get a small one of that. The third and last one is going to be a Celtic Knot on my right shoulder.

Mom is cringing, but she's letting me do it because she knows I'm actually serious about it and I've been thinking about it for 3 years now...PLUS I'm getting things that mean something to me, not just getting stuff cause it's cool. I'm being smart about it...and I'm doing something that makes me happy. As mom put it, at least I'm not begging to gauge my ears any more :P No offense against gauges...they're fantastic. Just not for me.

I'm also thinking about getting a bike. A motorcycle. My dream bike would be a Yamaha R6...but it doesn't have to be that. And it's NEVER going to be a Harley. I hate Harleys.

Well, I think that just about sums it up for my life right now. I'll try to come up with something to write about soon. For now, signing off...