I love long weekends. Seriously, they are God's gift to the highschooler.
My long weekend thus far-
Friday Night:
Pep band! Yay! It was actually a lot more fun than I expected. I think I shall enjoy doing it for six more games. I also decided that I am going to teach myself to play the oboe. Just for fun, because I have nothing better to do.
Saturday:
Westview theatre work party! I helped build sets for the spring musical, "How to Succeed in Business..." that Andy and James are in. Andy skipped out, but I still helped. I also met the senior light technician who agreed to take me under his wing. It didn't hurt that he was cute, and I decided to flirt a little to get him to take me up on the catwalk, and even higher, the grid. Talk about awesome.
Afterwards, I went to Nordstrom to get my MORP dress, and found out that I could only order it off of the internet. SO I did.
And it is so sexy, I can't even wait.
Sunday:
I did some "homework" which actually means I woke up at some unknown time, and did nothing all day with my brother and his friends. Now I'm watching friends with Andy, Jaime and Signpost.
_________________________ _________________________ _________
A little note about MORP-
I have about four dates to MORP, it should prove to be interesting.
I only actually asked like two of them.
Shayla, K-Swiss, Les and Skele-Val.
We are going to make one hot group, if I do say so myself.
Smokin'.
_________________________ _________________________ _________
Brandon/Lisa-
What do you guys think about v. 2.0? SO far I'm a little weirded out.
It's so "high-tech" and "futuristic" and "pseudo-LiveJournal".
Half the fun of using an obscure server was not having any neat-o gizmos or anything that had any real practical application.
I miss my tBucks...
I'm still trying to figure out how to work out the bugs a little bit.
Who knows, maybe Valium Confessions will undergo a few renovations of it's own.
_________________________ _________________________ _________
Ok, so Ash admitted that you were very cute. I told her that I almost died seeing you in Tux. Talk about knives.
Just call me Novahina Ivanova. Nick Menard would get it.
Something old... My shoes.
Something new... My dress.
Something borrowed... My pearl necklace.
Something blue... My eyes.
I will go through with it, in fact, I have it all planned out.
Flashforward eleven years... ish.:
I am 26-years-old. Give or take a few months. I have graduated and I have my MD, finally. I tell my family I'm leaving to make my way in the world, they protest, and some laugh. I call you and order you to pack your things, we're moving. I have made no accomodations what-so-ever, because that's not how it's done in the movies(Thank you Hollywood!). We catch a plane to Amsterdam, then switch flights and land in Switzerland. I join some obscure hospital, and you.. umm.. Make pottery.
We live there for a few months, then I decide we're moving to the Czech Republic. Seeing as I can only say two things in Czech, we call my brother, who is obviously fluent in 27 languages, to live with us as a translator. He is living in James's basement, next door to Jeremy, who is living in Nick's basement. James hears Andy on the phone, and calls everyone we know, and they all end up with us in the Czech Republic. After a happy reunion and some good clean fun, we decide to get married. We fly back to Oregon, because you want to and you're lame, get married and I decide to stay on and take a job here. You still make pottery.
I work all the time, and come home frustrated. I can often be found in the backyard, yelling at our cat, which is not obese, by the way. I don't really know what you do for a living, and we've stopped communicating, because I have been consumed by my job.
You force me to take a vacation, and I realize what is really important in life and blah blah blah.
On vacation, we happen to run into David Blaine, who after one of his AMAZING FEATS OF MIRACLE WORK, has injured himself. I nurse him back to health, and we fall madly in love. I divorce you and marry the magician of my dreams.
WHo doesn't believe in smiling.
Once I have given birth to seven of his magical children, I come back to you.
You have two children by some Italian hooker from New Jersey.
Their names are Daniel and Eva.
(Not Claudius and Five)
We live happily ever after.
I am really looking forward to a relaxing day tomorrow.
Nobody call me, I'm busy.
_________________________ _________________________ _________
It's going to be amazing.
You know you love me,
Valium
A Stereotypical Song That Reminds Me Of How I Feel Everytime You Awkwardly Sneak Up On Me In School.
All the boys voices cracking Oh, the moaning half tones Come summertime, we're all the same age here All the tension and the terror Thin limbed, gorgeous green eyes smiling And I'm going straight to hell All the possibility and promise just weighs on me so heavily and
I try but I'm not convincing Your lips, they pout and twist, and I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you. You take in everything with a certainty I envy It's somehow all I need Just keep me guessing please
Darling, All of these awkward jumpstart stalling conversations Mean much more to me than anything It comes down to me and you And whether we're supposed to or not, We still will, We're so much better off than them All the possibility and promise just weighs on me so heavily and
I try but I'm not convincing Your lips, they pout and twist, and I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you. You take in everything with a certainty I envy It's somehow all I need Just keep me guessing please
A look, a laugh, a smile, a second Passes by and I regret it Words just aren't right Sometimes I just can't explain All the ways you devastate me Always on my mind
I try but I'm not convincing Your lips, they pout and twist and, I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you. You take in everything with a certainty I envy It's somehow all I need Just keep me guessing
Hopefully this makes up for it. And by "it" I mean the REALLY long subject line.
Finals that I will do alright on: Global Studies Lit. and Comp. Media Studies French
Finals that will cut out my tongue, scoop out my eye-balls, pour battery acid in the sockets, sludgehammer my legs, kick me in the ovaries and then laugh in my shame-ridden face: Geometry Band Chemistry
Whew.
I actually feel better now, knowing that a scantron test can't actually cut out my tongue. And knowing that for the rest of my life, I don't have to refer to high school as, "The Best Years of my Life!"
Crackers.
Mike: Val, everyone knows your smarter than us Mike: You dont to always prove it
I love you, Man. Indecently.
My life really is, in almost every fashion, a sitcom. Canned, dead-people laughter and ALL.
I don't really want to talk. Not about anything that doesn't need to be said. The meaningless dribble that seems to drizzle out of my head incoherently. What are you thinking, masked by the stern silence? What were we thinking?
I'm 15-years-old. I'm going to be annoying, a majority of it will be on purpose to see how far I can push you. To see the limit before you break. I'm sorry. For each step I take towards accepting my decisions, I take two steps back. It'll be a while.
I suppose we have nothing more to say. I won't waste anymore of your time.
Whatever, and ever, amen.
you know you (may not still) love me, Valium
OK... So just ignore all of that. You know me better than I do.
The rumors are true. I'm withdrawing from the election.
I stood in the rain a while, thinking about it. I won't win, and if I lose this, I think I'll go crazy in general. _________________________ _________________________ _________________________ ______________ Next year, after summer ends, and we are reunited for our second year at Westview... Things will be different. I'll probably have cut my hair off, and pretty much have withdrawn from anything and everything that reminds me of how things used to be. I won't have green shoes next year, I'll get some conventional color, and this blog will probably be deleted, along with LarryNamedDesire.
My friendships will be put on the rocks, because slowly I will push people away, like I always promised I would. I will not be in band, and I will probably not be doing anything worth mentioning. James will finally be fed up with me, and move on. I won't bother making new friends.
I won't be anal about my grades anymore, since this year I'll get a B and ruin my 4.0 anyways. I'll go to a regular university, and deal with my life as a person of average-mediocre intelligence.
I won't talk much for the rest of highschool, and people will efficiently lose track of me. I'll graduate some meaningless number in a class of too many, and leave Oregon, never to look back.
I'll probably never speak to James, Michael, Yohan, Lisa, Nat, Les, Rach, Summer, Boki, or anyone ever again. I'll grow up, doing menial tasks for just above minimum wage. I'll go home to my apartment, where I may have an iguana or something, eat the same thing I eat every night, check my answering machine, which will be empty, and go to bed at 9:30 PM, sharp. I won't fall asleep though. I lay awake until midnight, sometimes dawn, thinking and remembering how it was when I gave a damn about my future. When people expected me to do big things, important things.
I might run into someone by accident someday, doing one of my meaningless errands.
"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" "No, I don't think so..." "Yeah, you're Val. Val Barlow, we used to be friends." "I'm sorry, you have me confused with someone else."
Then I'll walk off. _________________________ _________________________ _________________________ ______________ James and Andy are in the next room, playing Eternal Darkness. I want to run to them, and scream, "DON'T LET ME DO IT."
But I won't.
James said himself that it's likely we'll lose touch in junior year of highschool. That, in itself, made me die a little on the inside. He'll be a senate page, because he has connections. He is James Wykowski... How can he not change the world?
and I... I had ambition. I had promise. _________________________ _________________________ _________________________ ______________ Want to know a secret?
I love James.
Isn't that stereotypical of me.
The reason I'm resigning: My friends are voting against me. Better to quit of my own accord, than to lose, and face shame.
I also still love Corbin. Don't expect him to feel the same after reading this, though. _________________________ _________________________ _________________________ ______________ My eyes kinda hurt. My lips are dry and pinched. My tears are stained. My mouth is filled with cotton.
I only talk to her when it rains. And that doesn't do anything.
