Yes. We all do. We all will. We just hope it'll take a really long time. Because we all deserve to live, too.

I went a week without touching a computer. The withdrawal nearly killed me. Apparently I missed the survey epidemic, but I decided to answer a question from one of them. Of course I picked the most joyous uplifting one.

Did you know that the ancient Egyptians connected the nose with the life force? So in that culture and some of the cultures following it, whenever one group conquered another, they would smash the noses of the defeated group's statues. The Sphinx, for example, has no nose.

No, I’m not bulimic. I’m trying to go through my stuff and get rid of the junk I don’t need. Sadly, most of my stuff is books and it’s hard to bring myself to get rid of them, even if they do take up space.

Winter break is supposed to mean more free time. What it actually means is no privacy. Which means I’m skulking around at 3:45 a.m. to get online. So please excuse my fragmented sentences and incoherency.

Anyway… where was I? I can’t remember when I had my last period. Was it two months ago? Longer? Honestly, I couldn’t care less if it’s gone for good. In my pure virginal state I have nothing really to worry about.

I’m realizing something, but it’s tied into a back story. So here goes the condensed version: I meet a girl; let’s call her Ede. I fall for the girl (concise, see?). At the time I don’t know that I’m gay, I’ve never really considered the possibility. So I don’t know what these feelings mean. I eventually figure it out, but I don’t know if she’s gay, and it’s not like I would have done anything about it anyway, extremely shy as I am. Angst ensues. After a while, she dates a guy. I don’t like him, but as always I hide my feelings. Time goes by, and she hates his guts. (I don’t say, I told you so. After all, I didn’t.) At some point during the “time going by,” I go through extreme depression and pretty much blow any chance I would have had with her. Then, Ede falls for this other girl she knows. It’s really very frustrating, because really I always knew she was gay. Seriously, she’s one of the gayest people I know, not that that’s saying much. And if you put the two of us next to each other and said, “pick the lesbian,” she’d be the obvious choice, not me. Anyway, this time I can tell she’s totally serious about this girl, who is out and dykey and my complete opposite. So I sit by and watch as I always do, and I try to get over her, just as I’ve been doing ever since I first realized how I felt about her. She graduated a year ahead of me and I haven’t seen her in almost seven months, not that I’m counting.

Yes, that really was the condensed version. I would tell you all the full epic tale of angst, but it would be extremely long and, well, angsty, and I’m trying to put it behind me.

Okay, so all that was the back story, now for how it ties in. The thing is, I never had the chance to get over Ede, my first and really only crush, while I was actually spending time with her. After she left my school, my feelings were kind of suspended, frozen in place. Does that make sense? I’m still stuck in the “trying to get over her” phase. Not that I’m obsessively pining over her, it’s just sort of a backdrop to my thoughts. The obvious answer is to transfer my affections to another girl, but I don’t know any other lesbians (sad, right?). So one half of me is searching for some girl, any girl, to crush on, but the other half is holding me back, because whatever girl it is will be even less attainable than Ede was. I end up with any romantic feelings canceled out. I’m still not out, because I don’t see the point right now. I’ll wait for college, I guess. So I hang out with my straight friends and they know I never talk about guys but they think it’s just shyness or low self-esteem or something. And I’m just another straight girl, except I don’t like guys. I’m just nothing.

Moving on… I want to cut my hair. I have to plans to go through with it after graduation. Or get my hair cut, actually; if I did it myself it would probably be scary. It’ll be a big change anyway; I’ve had long hair my whole life.
I think the semi-colon overload is a sign I need to sleep. Hasta luego, queridos.

Finals finals finals finals finals
(and other sundry projects for school) -- oh, the joys of the season.

For some reason I have no anticipation for Christmas. Gift-wise, there's not anything I really desperately want or need -- at least, not anything that can be physically wrapped and put under a tree. The packages from relatives have begun to arrive, but when I look at them, they're just boxes. I have no curiosity about what's inside. If I tried, I could probably figure out, oh, this rectangular box contains clothing, this small gift-wrapped item must be a bracelet; but it doesn't really matter to me.

Remember what it was like to pick up a gift, turn it over, shake it and listen for any hint of what it could be?

Oh, by the way, I've begun to realize that I almost, like, have a life, like oh my gosh you guys! Yeah.

How many of you have crazy ice and snow right now?

Okay, now that I've gotten that out....

At the beginning of each week I always hope it'll go by quickly, but this one is going much too fast. Because-- oh God oh God oh God --

because Saturday

Saturday is auditions.

And I would be much less stressed if I hadn't made it last year. Now, if I don't make it, the shame will just kill me, I'll seem like such a slacker.

Last year. I practiced violin so much for those auditions. I had a goal, you see. The year before I hadn't made it, and I'd been trembling so hard with nerves I could barely play. My goal, last year, was that I would go in and I would play my best and I would not shake. I failed in that goal, but I made the orchestra. I felt so calm before I went in the audition room. I was in control, I'd talked myself down in my mind and I wasn't scared at all. Mentally, I suppose I was prepared. But my physical reaction was something else. I walked in and the tremors started. In my legs, in my fingers. When I started playing, applying pressure with my fingers helped some and the shaking wasn't that noticeable, but when I moved my sheet music on the stand between excerpts I was shaking so hard I knew the judges could hear the paper rustling violently against the stand.

So I played my best despite the shaking, and I made it. I should be fine this year, right? But I can't convince myself. I've been so busy I haven't had enough time to practice. And what if I can't overcome the nerves this time?

So I don't make it. Big deal, get over it. At least you made it once. There are plenty of violinists in the state who probably deserve it more anyway.

(The first sign of madness is talking to yourself.)

Oh, I read Candide over Thanksgiving. And every time I read "Voltaire," the voice in my head says, "Lol-taire."

It's a funny thing. When I think in words, it's not quite spoken and not quite written but something in between, kind of both, kind of neither.

I'll shut up now... have a lovely lovely day.

"I love Troy. Such a good movie."
I said: "Really? I've never seen it."
She said: "Oh, you should. Brad Pitt's abs are all, like, exposed, and they're amazing."
I said: "So I should see Troy just because of Brad Pitt's abs?"
She said: "Well, they're amazing!"
I said:"..."

If I want to see abs, I can look at a photo of Dara Torres.

Anyway... sorry I've been so m.i.a. lately. I've been... brooding, I guess.

I've noticed an influx of new people, so welcome to all.

Sometimes I want to walk away and never come back. Then I realize that to leave, you have to go somewhere.

And, you know, butterflies and kittens and rainbows and joy. Yeah.

P.S. I have a new e-mail address... Jeff, do I have to send it to you?

fuck calculus.

I was an emo boy for Halloween. I parted my long hair to the side, pulled it back, and pinned it up, pulling the wispy bang-y bits on the side in front of my face. I wore grayish skinny jeans with zipper things on the bottom, black Vans, and a black shirt cunningly cut and altered with safety pins to make my shoulders look broader and my hips narrower. Then, of course, there was the eyeliner. That was a bit of a challenge. I never wear eyeliner. But I finished, looked in the mirror, and said, "Oh, my God. I look like a boy who looks like a girl."

I'm suited for the emo look -- I'm pale and thin. But I scorn emo-ness as a general rule, maybe because deep down I really am kind of emo. It was funny, though. All day at school people kept telling me, "You should wear eyeliner every day," or "You should be emo all the time." I think it just amused them when I went into the slouch and said, "Whatever. My life sucks. I wanna die," in the most deadpan voice I could manage.

The whole thing kind of reminded me of this time in eighth grade when a friend of mine had a slumber party. It was supposed to have a spa/makeover theme, but I told her, "If we do makeovers, I want to be made over goth." The idea caught on, and we all ended up turning gothic. And it was weird, but with the dark makeup and clothes I felt powerful, like nothing could hurt me, like I smite anyone down with one glare of my death ray eyes. It was like, I could do things I normally wouldn't do -- because I wasn't me. I love the feeling of transformation. It frees me. I wish I could have a million different disguises, so I could be anyone, express the conflicting sides of my personality, and at the same time keep the real me safe.

Oh, another thing. I drew pale red cut scars on my wrist, which was kind of funny, but maybe in poor taste. I figured it was okay for me to do it because I actually have two real cut scars, faded almost to invisibility, on my arm. On a few occasions a while ago, I cut myself there, in the same place each time so it would be less obvious. And it was stupid and pointless and didn't really help anything, so I don't do that anymore and I don't think I ever will again. I wasn't a serious cutter though, just very light slices with an Xacto blade, pretty red lines that faded fast, dark drops that dried and disappeared. I didn't actually hurt myself. What I did to myself was nothing. But some people--some people really hurt themselves, and it's dangerous and scary, and it's not a joke. But then, it's kind of like, I can make fun of cutters because I used to cut myself. I can make fun of emo people because I understand what it's like to be emo. And it doesn't do to take things too seriously; in fact, it's dangerous.

Okay, that was long. Sorry. Have a lovely day. Night. Whatever.

I stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I noticed that some of the lightbulbs over the mirror were out.

I glanced toward the toilet.

There was a spider crawling around the inside of the rim.

I shrieked. Almost instantaneously I was out of the bathroom, the door slammed shut behind me.

I ran to my parents. They took care of it.

I am such a coward. But I'll be eighteen soon enough. Until then, I can act like a child.

Oh, gosh -- imagine if I hadn't looked at the toilet first. *shudder*

In other news... senior pictures are the new trading cards at my school. Everyone picks the same one of me. Personally, I feel like I was squinting in that one, but maybe I was inadvertently smiling with my eyes.

Homecoming week, so we had the barrage of absurd dress-up days, and the dance is tomorrow evening. Dear God, if you love me, which I sometimes doubt, please do not let every song be rap.

I had two college interviews this week. If only I had charisma. But I think they were okay. In one, the interviewer said that I was articulate. In the other, I was sitting next to a fountain which may or may not have drowned out my every word. (Fortunately, I speak with my hands. If the early humans could communicate with primitive gestures, I'm sure we could.) That's what happens when the interview takes place in a courtyard -- to add atmosphere? Honestly, I'd feel more at home in a cubicle for this type of discussion.

So... I'm applying to Kansas, Rice, Carnegie-Mellon, and Cornell for architecture. And some other public schools. Some of these are kind of long shots, but I might as well try.
If any of you know anything about these schools, I will gladly absorb your info....

Someday, in a distant but beautiful future, student council will not consume my life. The promised land... it calls to me....

I get the feeling I come across as a nerd. That's probably because I am one.

I'm so negligent of this journal it's just shameful. I know none of you know who I am because I'm never on. I've just been horribly horribly busy. College applications are kicking my asterisk, and why oh why did I decide to take five AP classes my senior year?

On other news, I was talking to my sister on the phone tonight. She's away at college, and she recently went to Austin City Limits, which is this crazy awesome music festival in Texas with tons of bands. I've never been, it's too far, but I'm just dying to go.
So I asked her about the music, and she said, "This one group was really good... Tegan and Sara, I think?"
I screamed. "Tegan and Sara? You saw Tegan and Sara? And I was stuck at home writing essays about Crime and Punishment? Rrrrghh!" (and other indescribable sounds).
It really was quite frustrating. Because I've never been to ACL, I've also missed seeing Regina Spektor and the Killers. I go to church. I volunteer. I tutor ungrateful middle schoolers. I do homework. I procrastinate on college apps. I talk to my friends on the phone about how they have to volunteer and do homework and procrastinate on college apps. This is my life.

But somehow I'm better than I was on my last entry. Thank you, underage_thinker, for making me feel better. It's just weird. I was depressed for four years and I think maybe I'm overcoming it. But I've tried to break through with sheer willpower before and never could. So I'm not ready to trust how I'm feeling now. I guess I'll just wait and see.

Sadly, my two gay friends graduated. I'm surrounded by my straight, conservative, Protestant Christian buddies. Which means I'll have to stay silent for some time.
My friends are all obsessed with Twilight. I read the books and enjoyed them, but how could I ever explain that I'm looking for an Alice, not an Edward?

I'm on a high and a low at the same time.

I think I'm losing my mind.

I'm about to fly apart in all directions at once. (Ow.)

What is this? (I can't figure out if it's better or worse than just lows.)

A while ago, I created a yahoo e-mail account without telling my parents, partly so I could join this site. I can't remember if I had to put down our communal e-mail to do this, but I've noticed messages from yahoo on my parents' Windows mail saying "you have been accessing your account without using secure settings," whatever that means. In a panic, I deleted the account only to receive another message. I'm worried my parents will follow up on this and find out about the account. It shouldn't be a big deal, but I didn't ask and I'm worried if they figure it out they won't trust me on the internet ever again. (Ever! Yes, I'm slightly dramatic. But, you know, a betrayal of trust, covert activities and all that.)
So, what should I do about it? The messages have been opened, so I can't delete them without incriminating myself. And is there any way I can set up an e-mail without getting messages sent to another one? What is this whole "secure settings" thing? I'm so clueless with computers it's pathetic.

So I return once more. I've been away. You thought you were rid of me, but no such luck.
I've been at leadership camp, which was actually amazing. I broke through a plywood board with my bare hands (the most amazing part) and I would share this perfect moment with you, but I've been considering writing about it in a college application essay and I don't want admissions to think I got my essay off the internet. It would be just my luck to get in trouble for copying off myself.
Right now it is 3:28 a.m. and I'm sitting in the dark at our only computer. I like to get up in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep. I guess I haven't been able to have much alone time this summer, between being surrounded by my family at home and having roommates at camp. So I set my phone alarm on vibrate for 3 just so I can be by myself. I don't do much, but that doesn't matter. It's just so perfect and silent and still, and I jump at the smallest sound and I walk carefully and quietly, and I feel like I could be the only person around for thousands of miles.
But I'm not.
Being alone can be one of the worst feelings there is. This isn't like that, maybe because I'm alone by choice, and it's only temporary. And it's not like abandoned-alone, or the loneliness of separation. These few hours by myself, I don't have to talk, and I don't have to smile. It's just very calm.

... left scars.
No serious injuries occurred, but I now have small lines on several of my fingertips and one slightly more serious scar on my left index finger.
This is what comes of cutting Bristol board and basswood with an X-acto knife in an sleep-deprived condition. I was usually up past midnight working in the studio. But at least I wasn't the only one working late, slicing fingers, and leaving bloodstains on the first-aid kit. We all compared battle wounds at the end.

The schedule was something like this:
Get up around seven.
Eat breakfast on the way across campus to be picked up by the bus
Go somewhere on the bus (a construction site, a museum, a firm)
Get back and eat on the way to studio
Work in the studio from one p.m. to one a.m. (eating somewhere in between)
Sleep at two or so

Basically, any time at campus was eat, sleep, studio. Except there wasn't much sleeping. And a lot of the eating was in studio.

I was nervous when I first arrived, but I got along with everyone okay. A lot of the girls were very very girly (direct quote: "I like tall guys 'cause they can, like, protect you."). They were nice enough, though. One girl especially was smart and thoughtful and artistic. And she had an adorable nose, and pretty eyes. I should mention she's been dating a guy for over a year. Oh, well, it's not like I really had a crush on her. I've only really had a serious crush on one person... but I'll save that Epic Tale of Angst for another time. I kind of don't want to share it because if she ever comes across it she'll recognize exactly who I am.

Architecturally speaking, I feel like I learned a lot. I basically went from the bottom of the class to the top in the span of two weeks. Our studio instructor -- I'll call him Bob because I'm feeling creative -- was a professional architect and also a professor. Conversations with Bob about my final project went something like this:
Bob: So the light from the north... blah blah... creating shadows which... blah blah... purity of shape blah blah blah... you might want to add a cantilever here.
Me: Okay... yeah... uh-huh... okay...hmm... Wait. What?
Learning to talk about what I was doing was as hard as learning to do what I was doing. I have written essay after essay on rhetoric for AP Lang, but my architectural rhetoric was lacking.
Basically, I went to camp knowing nothing. And I came back knowing... well, more than I did.

The main purpose of this camp was so I could decide if I want to be an architect.
So do I?
I don't know!
I like designing, I like making models out of basswood, I grew to like working in studio despite the exhaustion. But when we visited this firm, a designer who worked there said, it's not worth the pay and the hours unless you love it. You have to love it.
So yeah, I like architecture. Do I love it? Could I, in the six years of schooling, become passionate about architecture? I don't know. If I could have the hours and salary of an architect but spend the time painting, I would accept the job in a heartbeat. But that won't happen.
If I'm honest with myself, I really want to be an artist or a writer. But I'm not confident of my ability to earn a living that way.
I want to adopt a kid someday. To do that, I'm going to need money, and time. I wish I could find the perfect job that I would enjoy while earning enough to support a small family.

On another note, I saw The Phantom of the Opera last night! It was... beyond description. When the chandelier lit up at the beginning for the flashback I swear my heart stopped (and proceeded to stop several times throughout the performance). The set was so amazing. I wish I could work on something like that.

Anyway, with this rambling, disjointed, poorly written journal entry, I have returned from my computer-less exile of X-acto blade adventures. I'm sure you've all forgotten me; it's only my third post after all. But a happy Independence Day to all you other U.S. people. Let the pyromania begin.

I'm going to be a senior this year, which means college applications. It kind of crept up on me, and I'm a bit nervous because I'm not really sure where I'm going to apply. I should be able to get into some decent schools; grades have been the primary focus of my life for a long time. This doesn't at all diminish my apprehension. (Wow, that last sentence sounded really uppity. See what AP Lang does to your diction? Actually, my language tends to be more formal and elaborate when I'm nervous and shy -- which is really most of the time.) (I like parentheses.)

Tomorrow I'm leaving for a two week "discover architecture" camp. I'm nervous about this, too. I won't know anyone, and I have this fear the other students will be absolutely brilliant in comparison to me. On the other hand, it won't go on my transcript or anything, so maybe it will be an opportunity to be... freer? I guess I'll find out soon. Wish me luck!