July 31, 2009
Famiglia
July 30, 2009
Grease is the Word
July 29, 2009
Dreamboat
July 28, 2009
Quarantine
July 27, 2009
Book Sale!
July 26, 2009
Forgetfulness and Remembrance
July 24, 2009
The Fbomb
July 23, 2009
La Piedra Filosofal
July 21, 2009
Speak
- She sounds like she hates school and can't wait to graduate. I would feel the same way if I didn't have any friends.
- I like how Melinda thinks of funny names for her teachers. I used to do that with my friends at lunch sometimes.
- Melinda sounds lonely. I would be her friend, but she's only a book character.
- I HATE FIELD HOCKEY TOO! --the exclamation point is almost as big as the post-it note--
- Hasn't she done her homework? She seems to have Enough time to do it.
- I forget what potpourri is. What is it? Is it a type of food? --No. It doesn't taste good. The only time anyone ate is was in Man of Honor (or whatever the wedding movie with the hot doctor was called)--
- I think she should join the newspaper for something to do.
- I think Melinda would have fun in a musical.
- I think the idea will work. Something good has to happen in this book.
- Melinda should write the story of her life, quite school, and more to Australia if she hates her life so much.
- That teacher sounds kind of creepy.
- I think Melinda's math skills are somehow going to help her find more friends and solve her problems.
- I don't like algebra, either. It's confusing.
- Poor Melinda. She sounds really and truly lonely. I feel so bad for her.
- It's mean that people talk about Melinda behind her back.
- I like the WOMBATS!!
- I think she needs to see a shrink
- I wonder what Melinda will grow up to be.
- her mom must ba a terrible cook. I feel lucky. My mom is a great cook.
- SOUNDS HILARIOUS
- This book would make a good TV show
- I've never studied fruit before. I sounds like it would be fun to do some experiments with.
- Melinda needs more friends. I feel sad for her.
- I like David. He sounds cool.
- There are tons of words that rhyme with wombad. At, bat, cat, frat, fat, mat, Matt, Mat, flat, Aristocrat...
- I really want to know what happened! when will I find out?
- she should join the basketball team. Melinda is really good and it's a chance to become friends with Nicole again.
- The basketball team does not sound very good.
- I think in the end Melinda will be able to draw/make/carve a perfect tree.
- I wonder what she means by "if" I grow up.
- Dissecting a frog sounds GROSS. Some smells (like dead frogs) make me feel like barfing.
- I'm not surprised Melinda passed out. I would have.
- Modeling sounds like an interesting career.
- I feel bad for Melinda. Her family is so disconnected.
- AH-HA! that's who IT is . ---- ------. Must remember.
- I wonder what happened with ----.
- Poor Mr. Freeman! He ruined his painting!
- I think they should have stuck with the wombats.
- Melinda needs to go into therapy she isn't even trying to live.
- Melinda is going to end up in rehab if she keeps going like this.
- I hate it when teachers wear the same clothes as you
- I think Melinda should try paper mache
- I feel bad for Melinda. Her only friend is blowing her off!
- I liked valentines day in elementary school.
- I wonder who the valentine is from
- I feel so bad for Melinda. She should really get some professional help.
- Why won't Melinda talk?
- I wonder if Melinda will ever talk again.
- I wonder if Melinda is ever going to return to her normal life.
- I wonder why Melinda doesn't want Mr. Freeman to meet her mom.
- Why is Melinda so intent not to talk at all?
- Poor Melinda. No friends. No siblings. No one to talk to.
- I bet Melinda is going to make up with her old friends eventually.
- Melinda should call her parents. They're probably freaking out right now.
- She should get some sleeping medicine.
- I think she is about to tell what happened.
- Maybe she can't sleep because she's pregnant.
- Melinda needs HELP!
- GO DAVID!
- Mr. Neck is sooooooooo MEAN!
- good plan
- Melinda needs a lawyer.
- She should go on a date.
- Poor, poor Melinda.
- She really is sick. I would have thought she was just pretending.
- Melinda should play tennis for something to do.
- Yay Melinda!
- Poor Melinda
- Go Melinda
- I wonder how the story will end.
- Good idea Melinda
July 20, 2009
Desperation
hullos
without the s
and with an e
instead of a u
9:09pmCaleb
hey
9:09pmTea
i can't type
at all
9:10pmCaleb
i can see that
9:10pmTea
you are the most sporadic conversationalist ever, by the way
you start writing everyday for like, a week
and then stop
and I forget about you, again
and now you're online
and I'm like
"DUDE! he totally stopped talking to me! wtf?"
except
like
in my head
9:11pmCaleb
well i only write when i have something to say
9:11pmTea
that's probably a good method
I lack that skill
I kind of just write
and write
and write
9:11pmCaleb
i can see that
9:11pmTea
similarly to how I talk and talk and talk
well, most of the time
not all the time
and I don't know where this sentence is going
of course, it's really an incomplete sentence
and
I'll just, um, shut up now
9:12pmCaleb
that's nice
go on AIM if you want to rant to me
9:12pmTea
hmmm
okay
I'm not even sure I have anything to rant about
to be honest
caleb: that's nice
tea:how was ur day?
caleb: boring
tea: ohmy dog is kind of dying and the blood is grossing me out so I've been hiding in my room
and I barely do anything
celeb:...ur dog is KINDA dying?
tea: just, like, procrastinate patent work
well
last time it happened
he went into remission
maybe he will again
maybe he won't
caleb: cancer?
tea: he was given a month to live a year aho
ago
and yes, nasal cancer
it's awful
bloody nose, everywhere!
caleb:that totally sucks
tea: yeah
that just about sums it up
caleb: how old is ur dog?
tea: 9
or 10
I'm not sure
which is pretty old
for his breed
but
it's still sad
we've had him since he was a puppy
caleb: yea it is
tea: but to be honest, I'm not THAT sad
shouldn't I be crying or something?
like, I know that I should be sad
so I kind of am
but I'm also kind of like
AAAAAHHHHH BLOOODDDD
so then I feel bad
and gahhh
I'm sorry for making you read this
although
for all I know
you aren't actually reading
just like, half paying attention
caleb: i am totally reading
tea: and oh
I appreciate it
caleb: np
tea: haha
how's your science thing going?
caleb: boringly
tea: aww
por que?
aka why?
caleb: because i sit in an office
tea: ooooh
offices
caleb: and take a water sample once an hour
tea: sounds.....exciting
caleb: for like 8 hours straight
tea: what do you do the rest of the time?
just sit there?
I see how that could get rather repetitive
it may even be worse than gardening
which is what my mom makes me do every now and again
caleb:lol
tea: okay
I think I'm ranted out, at this point
thank you
caleb: that's nice
tea: is that your catchphase?
caleb: i think u need some friends
...like some REAL friends
tea: ass
I have real friends
but one's in ny
and one's in ny
for a different reason
and another has a broken computer
caleb: oic
there's no need to be so defensive
i was jokin
joking
tea: I get defensive easily
I think it's a symptom of horribly geeky middle school years
which you don't need to hear about
caleb: thank goodness
tea: and, actually, I think I'll call my friend with the broken computer
so, farewell
caleb: bye
-------end of conversation---------
Is it wrong for me to start conversations with him for the sole purpose of being able to write blog posts about it, because absolutely nothing of note is happening in my own life, so I feel the need to try to dredge something of interest from the lives of others? I don't know.
July 19, 2009
Rufus
July 18, 2009
Moooovie
if my head were ANY denser, my brain would be a ShamWOW towel.
that is my analogy for last night. yay for un-dating!
i went to see harry potter with this guy. i've thought of him as like an older brother before, so i didn't think it was that weird. even when we saw the preview for twilight, in which bella says to edward, "it's my birthday, kiss me" and he leaned over and said, "it's my birthday..." i thought he was joking. i mean, he didn't protest when i paid for my own ticket.
after the movie we went to longshore because i had never seen it at night before. we sat on one of the catamarans and talked for a really long time. finally my mom's friend called and asked where i was, and i said i'd be home soon. Yamaha pulled me closer on the catamaran, but still i was just thinking, "this can still be friendly, right?" finally i said we should go, and he leaned over towards me.....dialogue to follow in next post.
What do you mean, what do you think I'm doing?
Don't do it!
Why not?
Dude, really....
What?
It's just....you're twenty-two!
So what if I am?
You're six years older than me! Doesn't that mean anything to you?
No. It doesn't.
Why not?
Why should it? Ulysses and Cleo are about the same distance apart.
Seriously! I'm sixteen!!
I know.
Doesn't that bother you?
No.
Why not? Why doesn't it bother you?
What do you mean, why?
Why....am I your favorite dispatcher? (reference to earlier at work) Why me?
Well, I've really enjoyed this conversation we've been having....(lists random reasons that don't mean anything)....and i'm attracted to you.
That's it? You're attracted to me? That's silly.
No it's not. That's what it's about!
Seriously. You're ridiculous.
Are you lecturing your elder?
You need lecturing.
Come on, are you afraid?
No. I'm just not interested. I don't think of you that way, I think of you like a brother.
Then why are you sitting here with me...like this?
I would sit with my brother like this!! Well...not like this, precisely....(indicating closeness of faces)
This conversation went on for some time, but i didn't give in. Finally i sat up and turned to him, saying:
Wait. is this gonna be awkward tomorrow? Because if it's awkward I'll punch you.
I'd rather you didn't punch me.
So don't make it awkward.
later on, walking back to the car.
Okay wait. This is ALREADY awkward. Stop it. You need to learn how to not be awkward!
And you need to learn how to not be afraid.
Do not. I'm not afraid of anything.
Yeah you are. You totally wanted to kiss me back there.
I did not. You wish.
Uh-huh.
You're being preposterous.
Yeah, okay Nyx....
fortunately after that we got back to normal conversation.
July 17, 2009
Hola!
July 16, 2009
Whoopsies
July 15, 2009
I Can Make a Difference
I stood precariously on a wall overlooking the ocean. The sky was a flat gray, and there was a strong and chilly wind. The entire world seemed to be tinted gray; the only color left was the tan of the sand and the greenish gray of the ocean water. It was the sort of setting a movie would have for a suicide, and, at that moment, I wanted my life to end. It is by far the most terrifying moment of my fourteen years of existence.
The first person I tried to tell was my mother. Through tears, I told her that I thought about bad things, that I might be depressed, that I needed help. She responded by telling me that I should exercise to get more endorphins and feel better. I ran up and down stairs, but there was no improvement. Telling her the first time had been so painful that was not willing to go through it again, so I attempted to wait it out. Two weeks later, I was getting worse, and she seemed to have completely forgotten about my problem.
I spoke again, balanced precariously on the edge of a bathroom sink. I began to speak, the words slipping through the tears. My friend looked on, concerned, not understanding why I was crying. "I almost, I almost." I was sobbing so much that a gasp worked its way into my words, but I forced them out. "Killed myself." She was shocked. I continued my story, filling in the details, explaining that I did not know why, that I did not know if it would happen again, that right then I did not want to die. I was scared out of my mind. I was shaking, and the automatic sink behind me went off, spraying my pants with water. I cried even harder. She asked if I wanted to go to the guidance office. My guidance counselor, a creepy old man who didn't even know my name, was not someone I wanted to explain this to, so I shook my head no. My friend promised to keep my secret, and we returned to lunch, me with tears on my face, hers expressing her uncertainty as to what she could do to help.
A week later, I stood in the shower under the pounding hot water, fear flooding through me, trying to let the heat and the noise drown out my sadness and loneliness. I clearly remembered the feeling of standing on that wall. It hit me that I would need only seconds to slit my wrists and finish what I had considered beginning. A battle was raging in my mind. "You don't want that" screamed between my ears, but a little fragment managed to worm its way through the noise, whispering seductively of how easy it would be to let it all go. I rand from the piece, hiding beneath the shower, but running from myself I couldn't get very far. The conflict built to unbearable levels in my mind, so I shoved my fingers into my mouth, biting down so hard that my gums began to ached, trying to give myself a tangible reason to hurt and to make the pain and sadness fade with the marks on my knuckles, just as they had so many times before. This time it didn't help. I sank down to the bottom of the shower and promised myself that Tuesday, tomorrow, I would tell.
I had written about that colorless afternoon no the wall near the ocean. It was a poem in which I tried to figure out how to put my pain into words that people could read and possibly understand. It was scribbled in my worst handwriting in the back of my science notebook. It was accompanied by footnotes and doodles in the margins, everything I felt was needed to explain. The next day I showed it to another friend, one who also wrote poems, not mentioning that it was autobiographical. She said it was creepy but well written. I had promised myself I would tell, so I whispered to her that I was the suicidal girl in the poem. She urged me to go to guidance. It took her about fifteen minutes to talk me into it. We sat across from someone I did not know, a counselor for another grade. I handed her my poem; she called my parents. I was suspended from school for being a danger to myself and others, pending a letter from a mental health professional. I felt worse than I had before.
I saw someone the next day who gave me a letter to get back in school. It was another two and a half weeks before I finally started seeing a therapist and was allowed to close my bedroom door.
A few weeks ago, that second friend moved away. I was walking home from school and trying to console myself. I reminded myself that she was just and friend, and that, without her, I'd still be in the same place I was that day. It was then I realized that I was completely wrong. She brought me in. I have no idea where I'd be if I hadn't gotten help. It could be that I would have found another way, but I could just as easily be dead. She was gone, but I was so lucky to have had her there, and to have been able to survive. I was lucky, and I felt the good luck wash over me in a wave incomparable to the pain in the shower. I was alive, I was happy. I was walking through the first snow of the year, a snow I came so close to never being able to see. I breathed in the flakes and yelled out to a street silenced by ice, "I survived!" "But," I added inwardly, "only just." It was five weeks after I first told my mother that I got help, and I was troubled long before then. I may not have scars on my wrists, but I had a problem, and it is far more common than one might guess. Approximately one in every hundred and fourteen teenagers injures themselves. For some of these teens, five weeks may be too long.
I think mainly it was so difficult for me to get help because people do not really know what to do. I think my mother may have denied the problem, although we don't talk about it at all now, so I'm not sure. Gretchen tried to be a good friend by keeping my secret. Amy finally brought me in, but I was only placed in the care of my denying parents again. People need to be educated about what they can do to help in these situations.
I can make a difference in the world by telling my story and educating people about what they can do to help. Self-injuring and suicide are topics I have yet to cover in health class. I think that some who have not experienced it misinterpret it as a plea for attention, thinking that because people are hurting themselves, they alone are to blame. I do not believe that this is true. No one wants to hurt, and causing physical pain is not a healthy way to deal with painful emotions.
People can be healed. It was six months later, summer, that I saw that I was truly better. The permeating sadness that had hung over me seemed inexplicable gone. I was lying on a hill at music camp. The sun was beating into the back of my jeans, but rather than feeling too hot, I was pleasantly warm. Scales and songs wafted through the breeze, discordant as they mixed together, but rather than being annoying, it was soothing. I smiled into the warm grass, thinking about the friends I would see later, the music I would learn to play, and the new school that I would start in the fall. The warmth of the sun felt as if it had permeated my entire being. It took me a moment to find a word for the unfamiliar feeling: contentment. The happiness in life had come back to me. My life wasn't any better, but I was.
By using what I learned from my own experience, I can help others to feel the same contentment I am now able to feel. I am starting here. This piece of writing is not private. I am spilling out my story because it needs to be learned from. Suicide is the third leading cause of death among adolescents and young adults, but suicides can be prevented. Students need to be able to tell people more easily, and those whom they tell need to learn what they should do to help.
I am a living, breathing example that it can get better when troubled teens talk, but the people they talk to also need to know what to do. I had to talk to two people before I found one who was willing to help me stick around, so that I can taste snowflakes and feel sunlight, but many people are not so lucky. I can make a difference by speaking up, so I am going to talk.
July 14, 2009
Apoptosis
July 13, 2009
Nails, Screws, and the Verbification Thereof
July 12, 2009
Farewell
July 11, 2009
The Ferris Wheel
July 10, 2009
Italian Festival
July 9, 2009
Interpretations
Then we have your sister. You love your sister, and are around her a lot, so of course she'll show up in your dreams. That you our flying up high in the glider signifies how happy you are when she is around. The lines signify something (or someone) that is holding you back mentally. It may be your parents, since it's at home. Or, it could be your worried that that house sitting lady will keep you from doing something, or it could be your dog (hence the leashes). Also, the bizarre exercise machine part reminds me of those unelectric treadmills in China.
Actually, I just realized that by glider, you may mean bench or something, because your families speech patterns are different than mine. The jewelry is meant to signify romantic interest, and you aren't sure why or if you have is, and, regardless, you want to get rid of it. The tackle-box shows that the jewelry came with friendship (fishing is outdoorsie, and you associate friendship with that sort of thing), and because you were able to give the jewelry back and keep the tackle-box, you have been able to maintain your friendship despite some initial awkwardness. However, it hasn't totally left your mind, hence the valentines. I'm a stand-in for you, here, where you think that any romantic intentions are a sign of desperation. Also, because Lysander is (ahem) unexperienced, his valentine is like that of a child. However, it's still interesting and unique (every page is different)
Us gossiping about guys is because that is what we do. We did it last week, and I'm sure it'll happen again. Guys are just so interesting to talk about. Did dream me have any good gossip?
I'd already told you about having first day of school dreams, and you probably do think about the first day of school a little bit (at least subconsciously). The not knowing which room appears to be a common theme, since I've had that too. And THAT'S MY PHYSICS CLASS. WHY DID YOUR DREAM SELF NOT JUST GO TO CLASS WITH ME???? You worried that your desire to be prompt and do well in school will interfere with your ability to be a good person. You also think you might miss a chance to help if you don't think it all the way through. I associate trains with the school year, but I don't know if you do. This also sounds a lot like the train in the third Harry Potter video game. You're jealous of Tawny and Benny, but in the end, you know Tawny, and you know it won't be problem.
love, tea
July 8, 2009
Nyx Had A Dream
Next, I was sitting outside my house on the glider with Kiwi. It was day time again. A loop of line, which i think was a really long dog leash, was staked into the ground near the oak tree in the front yard. There were more lines attached to it, and the other ends of these lines were attached to my bike helmet. For some reason I felt it necessary to put on the helmet and try to walk, but of course I couldn't because the lines were taut when I stood up. I kept straining at the ropes, and it was like some bizarre exercise machine.
Then I heard someone say, "And this is Nyx, strapped into her own yard!" I turned and saw that it was Lysander, talking to to older men on the sidewalk across the street. I unstrapped myself and went back to sitting on the glider, and as I did so he walked over and came into the yard. I asked him if he wanted his jewelry (i think it was heirloom or something) back, though I'm not sure why I had it. He had given it to me in a tacklebox which was also on the glider, but it was all mixed in with my beads and jewelry making supplies. Kiwi and I helped me dig through it looking for the jewelry, but Lysander didn't seem to mind the wait. When we finally gave it to him he left and went back across the street, where a black convertible was waiting for him with someone (maybe his dad?) in the passenger seat.
Then I went to your house, and you had just received a valentine from Lysander, even though we knew Valentine's day was still a few days away. It was a booklet made of unevenly-stapled red and pink construction paper, written and drawn on with crayons like a kid would do. Each page had something different on it. One page said Love.
Wondering if Lysander actually liked you or if he was just desperate for a girlfriend, I wanted to go check my mailbox to see if he had slipped one in there when I wasn't looking. (This is very reminiscent of me wanting to check my cell phone.) But I decided that it would be better to wait until the morning. Then I slept over at your house with a bunch of other girls and we gossiped about guys all night.
The next day was the first day of school, and of course I had already gotten to school and it was already 7:25 by the time I figured that out. I had not checked my mailbox. I also did not know what rooms my classes were in, but I knew that I had physics period 1. (There was also a while that we spent in the library and something happened but I forget what it was. Then I lost track of you and realized I had to get to class). I raced to the elevator to take it to the third floor, because I was riding on a library cart. The doors shut and opened again and an old lady in a wheelchair tried to come in but couldn't fit because of my cart. As the elevator went up I had the fleeting realization that if I had moved the cart over there would have been room for her, but I was in too much of a hurry to care.
On the third floor, all of the walls were black. Actually, the third floor was more like a train, which happened to be moving. Each car held one or two classrooms, and I passed from car to car (through the annoying between-car spaces) trying to find someone in my class - I think it was you. Finally I found a class and asked Vicuna if it was physics honors, and he said yes so I went to find a seat. The lab tables and benches were arranged on each side of the train car and looked like diner booths. I couldn't find any cute guys to sit with, but finally I sat down with Anita and a blond girl whose face I recognized but whose name I don't know. Meanwhile, the windowless train was still trundling along - quite loudly, I might add.
I looked around to see if I knew anyone else, and saw Tawny in a booth diagonal from mine. She appeared to be sitting on Benny's lap. But then suddenly they were sitting next to each other instead and he morphed into a girl so that was okay. Then I woke up.
it was only after the dream was over that I realized that a certain spare-brainless lab partner was not in my class. neither was Richard.
please interpret?!