IRA Must Do More...

Okay. Wow.

Let's not pin all of the blame for the conflict in Ulster on the IRA. Please, let's avoid that. The sister of a murder victim needs closure? Surely, it isn't completely the IRA's fault. I'm pretty sure the families of Patsy O'Hara, Bobby Sands, and Mairead Farrell need closure as well. Both parties are to blame here.

And, you know, I'm an American Democrat, but I'm an proud Irish Republican -- Irish by heritage, out of honor to the family name. O'Hara, Sands, and Farrell were freedom fighters.

You know that saying "A man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter"? Distinctly the situation here. I'm sorry that all of the death had to happen, but we can't blame the IRA. If I could, I would join Sinn Fein, and I would proudly wear a Sinn Fein pin. Why? I believe in freedom.

To say that the IRA isn't doing enough is letting the SAS get off the hook. Both parties need to do the best they can, but peace is gradual. It isn't some fast process. Unless Eire gets her six counties back, I really doubt any peace will happen, but blaming it all on the IRA is just wrong.

I love how my friends worry about me.

Me: My neighbors don't recognize me.
Friend: They never see you?
Me: Well, it's understandable. I stay in all day and only go out at night.
Friend: Uh.... I think it's time for an intervention?

I need to figure out what I'm doing with my livejournal layout. It's a mess right now. I want to make it more Bjork-ish, I guess, because it's probably the only kind of layout I won't get sick of any time soon.

I have 1.5/4 of my Federalist paper summaries done. Ugh. When I finish this entry and gather my stuff together, I'm going to sit myself down and force myself to work through the other Federalist papers. It was that much of a bother reading them, I must admit -- the trouble lies in having to sit yourself down, force yourself to concentrate, and then answer those silly questions. And on top of that, the grammar in that stupid question packet is horrendous.

Once I figure out a method to finishing summer work, I suppose I stick to it, because this is exactly what I did last year for AP US History. I saved all of the work for the week before it was due, simply because I could never make myself concentrate. It's always easier to bite the bullet with these things, I suppose. Because I didn't do all of the work before, now I am forced to concentrate. And honestly, it's best that way.

The library is one of the most distracting work environments. A large building with hundreds of people, all coming and going, children in hand, book selections in bags, coughing and sneezing, feet scruffing on the carpet, automatic doors opening and closing, people carrying themselves up the stairs, elevators opening, musty smells... The library is impossible to work in. The people come and go, and you force yourself to look at your book, your computer, your work, but it's not humanly possible. The people are coming and going! How could you not stare? How could you not observe the people around you? Are they better off than you? Have you more than they? Do they look lucky? People-watching -- it's impossible to take your eyes off of them! In a library, of all places! You can easily judge a person by looking at their book selections. How could I not look up?

The library is just impossible. Quiet, my ass. If only libraries were like we picture them in the books they lend out. Large, intimidating, dust on the tops of the shelves, musty carpets, wooden shelves with ancient books. Rows and rows and rows of books, the most ancient of the books, with their hard leatherbound covers. Books waiting for you, books on carts, the educated librarian sitting at his or her desk, looking at their work as if it were the last day of their life. No noise. You can hear a pin-drop, but only if you wait for it, for it would be impossible to hear such a noise in such a place of academia. And, where are you? You're sitting at your mahogany table, with a large book, larger than a holy text, open, burnt looking pages, black script adorning them. The windows only let in tiny rays of light, for the light is not needed, simply because you have the oil burning lamps on your table and all the others -- such light would ruin such a collection of fine works. You are even careful as to barely touch the pages; you know the oil of your skin is a deadly sin. A library! They call it a library!

But, no, it's impossible. The people come and go like it is social hour, and you are left sitting there, helpless, pencil in hand, sitting in a neuveau-styled leather chair, nothing like your dream. You keep watching that clock hoping it will rip your eyes from the people that pass by, hoping that the hands will move faster, hoping that your ride will be here to come and retrieve you, because you would never want to be stuck in such a place.

It's been a while. It's always a while in the summer, though. Nothing important enough to write about happens, and when it does, I'm always too lazy to write about it.

Funny how I knew this would happen -- I knew that summer would get very old, very quickly, yet I still wanted it so badly. Now I'm in that summer rut that can only be crawled out of with productivity.

Enter in the AP Gov work. I'm particularly not excited about this; it's not hard to do, it's merely busy-work. Just a bunch of annoying Federalist Paper summaries to write up. I have 1.5/4 of my Federalist paper summaries done, so I figure I should do 1.5 more, and then only have 3 left, and some other dialectic journal crap to get out of the way.

Summer reading sucks, too. I always say that I'm going to read all of these glorious books. Crime & Punishment by Dostoyevsky, etc. Does that ever happen when it's supposed to? No way. I'm always left speed reading the classics a week and a half before school starts, because I always end up too lazy to start the reading when I should. Ambitious summer reading is so stressful. You want to pick out a good book to show off to next year's English teacher, but then you go and pick a book that you don't want to make any time for. That's the trouble with books. If you don't make enough time for them, you can't have them.

I suppose I'll just "read" some Kafka (that "read", is, of course, hinting at a fifth reading or so...) and some Camus. Why not venture out of the existentialist realm? Because you don't like change.

Your Existing Situation

Acts in an orderly, methodical, and self-contained manner. Needs the sympathetic understanding of someone who will give her recognition and approval.


Your Stress Sources

The existing situation is disagreeable. Feels lonely and uncertain as she has an unsatisfied need to ally herself with others whose standards are as high as her own, and wants to stand out from the rank and file. This sense of isolation magnifies the need into a compelling urge, all the more upsetting to her self-sufficiency because of the restraint she normally imposes on herself. Since she wants to demonstrate the unique quality of her own character, she tries to suppress this need for others and affects an attitude of unconcerned self-reliance to conceal her fear of inadequacy, treating those who criticize her behavior with contempt. However, beneath this assumption of indifference she really longs for the approval and esteem of others.


Your Restrained Characteristics

Feels listless, hemmed in, and anxious; considers that circumstances and forcing her to restrain her desires. Wants to avoid open conflict with others and to have peace and quiet.

Feels trapped in a distressing or uncomfortable situation and seeking some way of gaining relief. Able to achieve satisfaction from sexual activity.


Your Desired Objective

Demands that ideas and emotions shall merge and blend perfectly. Refuses to make any concessions or to accept any compromises.


Your Actual Problem

Disappointment and the fear that there is no point in formulating fresh goals have led to anxiety, emptiness, and an unadmitted self-contempt. Her refusal to admit this leads to her adopting a headstrong and defiant attitude.


Your Actual Problem #2

The need for esteem--for the chance to play some outstanding part and make a name for herself--has become imperative. She reacts by insisting on being the center of attention, and refuses to play an impersonal or minor role.





Wow. That seems pretty accurate right now. Scary, right?

I got another card. This time it was from Nico, a tenor sax player whom I barely know. Funny, right? I'm pretty sure his mother made him send me a card, or something like that, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless. And you know what? I even forgive him for putting an extra 'e' in my name.

Dear Suzie,

I am really sorry about your dad. I jsut heard about it from my mom. If you ever need anyone to talk to I will always be willing to help. I feel awful, and cannot imagine how you must feel. I wish I could do something to help, but I am currently at the Interlochen Music Camp until August 8.

Once again, xxxxxxxxxxx* I am very sorry about yoru loss.

Your friend,

Nico (Insert Greek last name here)

*Crossed out writing. I looked at it close up and it looks like he wrote "I hope you can" and crossed it out. I like to analyze things. A lot. I'm weird.

I've only talked to this kid about ten times at the most. I barely know him. Nice gesture, though. Whenever I think of "Nico", though, I think of the Velvet Underground and Nico.

Anyways, I finished my second day of volunteering at the Bruce Museum. Ugh.


Episode One: The Phone Call
Woman on phone: Do you sell jigsaw puzzles?
Me: Hold on one moment please, while I check. I put the phone down, take a sip from a drink, and look at the ground. I put the receiver back up to my ear. I'm sorry, we don't carry them here.
Woman: Oh. I see.
Me: Thank you, good bye. I hang the phone and go back to my seat. As I sit down and face forward, I see a stack of about eighty jig saw puzzles.

Episode two: The Cash Register from Hell
Woman: I'd like to buy these items. Woman places two items on the table.
Me: Okay.
Woman: Wait! Hold on! Woman runs around and picks up about ten other things.
Me: Okay...
Woman: These items have a forty percent discount. Woman points to a random pile of things. These ones don't. Points to a bunch of random rocks. Don't forget to add my additional member discount.
Me: Okay. With frustration, I start to punch numbers into the cash register, only to realize that I am apparently "doing it backwards" (in the words of the head of the store) and need to input everything all over again. Right then, the cash register starts to make noises. Hell noises. Devil, City of Dis, Purgatory, you name it, Hell noises. Downright satanic. The woman is now looking at me with disgust. Sorry about this.
Woman: Yea. Okay. I quickly finish inputing things, and I give her her receipt.

Episode three: Schizo Mineral/Fossil/Rock Loving Educator
Woman: What is this the name of this rock?
Me: Which one?
Woman: THAT one. Can't you see it? The blue one! Take it out of the display case!
Me: Okay. Hold on.
Woman: How much is it? How much?
Me: Sixty dollars.
Woman: Oh. Okay. Put it back. Move the necklace out of the way and get the other one.
Me: As you wish. I smirk to myself. Defiance.
Woman: How much is that one?
Me: Thirty five dollars.
Woman: Oh. I'll take the other one. The one you just put back. Is it forty percent off? Is it?
Me: Yes.
Woman: What is this rock's name?
Me: To be quite honest, I don't know.
Woman: This girl doesn't know anything! Sure. I'll whip out my geology index cards. Sorry, no thanks. Talk to the manager. I need to know the name of this rock. I call the manager over, and she wastes ten minutes of her life trying to figure out exactly what the name of the rock is. She finally writes down 'celestite' on a piece of paper because she can't pronounce it -- yes, the head of the store. After we solve the "rock fiasco", the woman proceeds to the checkout. I get stuck with the cash register.
Me: Is this all?
Woman: Uh, yea! She proceeds to put on a weird face and rolls her eyes.
Me: And, you get a %40 discount for being a teacher.
Woman: Okay. What, do you want me to get out a card to prove it now? Okay, now the bitch is getting sarcastic. She continues with the weird faces. Mind you, this woman must be at least fifty years old.
Me: Okay. I ring up everything, and I put the rocks in seperate bags.
Woman: Don't stress yourself out! Don't kill yourself over this! Oh, never. I'll bag some stuff, too!
Me: Thank you so much. You're very helpful. Two can play this game, bitch. Two can play.
Woman: Okay. Do I have my receipt? Okay. Bye.

I fucking hate retail.

Hmmm. Suzi's news brief of the day: Shuttle launch called off!

Why does this not surprise me? Could it be because NASA always fucks up? That could be it. Note to NASA: stop screwing up. Money is wasted on you guys that could be sent to starving people in all countries, ill people worldwide, environmental organizations, AIDS research, cancer research, etc.

I'm assuming that NASA is government funded, simply because it was established through the government. Maybe I'm wrong, but if it is government money, it is wasted money.

And, I guess I'm cynical. I'm just a little too absorbed with Earth's issues to even care about what other stuff lives on other planets. Earth is frightening enough, when you think about it. Earth is a frontier that we need to correct our mistakes in -- not ignore. Ignoring the mistakes is the worst possible thing that we can do right now.

I keep reminding myself of Jimmy Carter's crisis of confidence speech. He says that for once Americans actually think that the next four years will be worse than the past four years. I think we're in the same situation again, but we don't have a Jimmy Carter. We don't have somebody telling Americans, mustering up a large audience, and telling Americans what they don't want to hear. It's such an amazing message that Carter delivered, and it is a shame that people don't look back onto it. People are starting to realiez that things are going wrong, though. This doesn't have anything to do with that NASA article, by the way, but it just reminded me of how time and money is wasted.

You know, if people weren't at odds with eachother, if the middle east wasn't exploding with violence, if the American government was treading in Iraq or organizing coup d'états against other "communist" nations (think in the past, people!), if things weren't going wrong, I'd say go for it. But I can't say that, because nobody gives a damn.

That brings up another question, although seemingly off the topic -- do I owe responsbility to my government, or does my government have responsibility for me? I'm confused about that.

It never really occurred to me how dangerous loneliness can be. John Cusak, as Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything says “Do you want somebody? Or do you want me?” Loneliness is the oasis mirage in the desert. It’s dangerous. You walk too long to reach something until you realize that it doesn’t really exist, that it’s an illusion, that is has tricked you for too long of a time.

Loneliness does that. I makes you “love” people, “miss” people, and “wish” for things to happen. And when you realize what you have gotten yourself into, climbing out of the ditch is painful. When you climb on upward, all of your silly mistakes and all of the stupid things you said fall back into your face like fresh soil.

You trick yourself into thinking that you are right for somebody. Friends meet like this. Two lonely people searching for something. Two people that are drained and running on empty, two people that have nothing in common but their loneliness. And why do they become friends? Not because they are searching for each other – solely because they are just searching for somebody.

I only realize now, that most of everything that I've started since this last summer has been that way. Out of loneliness. Out of nothing.

Out of running on empty.

It's nice and cool outside right now. I wish each day was like this -- that same temperature at the hottest point of the day. I really don't like this hot weather. It brings back so many family memories. I just want fall. Really badly.

I don't know when Mike gets back from Maine, but I hope he gets back soon. He's one of my best friends -- I miss him really badly.

Elliot got back from his doctor thing. He told me about how he got to touch human insides -- lungs, hearts, kidneys, livers, etc. It sounded pretty damn cool. I've always wanted to do something like that. He said that the stuff going on inside of the chest cavity was actually cooler to touch than the human brain. Pretty cool, huh?

I found out my grades from Batcheller yesterday. After I finished volunteering at the music camp, I sat in Batcheller's office waiting her. It was hilarious when she walked into her office and found me sitting there. I looked at her when she walked in and said, "Your keys were on your desk; I knew you'd be back", and she gave me the guidance-counselor-who-has-faith-in-her-pupil smile. That's a good smile to see from somebody who's gonna get you into college.

I got all A's and B's.

Honors English: B (A typical Charlesian B -- he only gave out two A's)
AP US History: A-. Rock on, right?
Honors French: B
Chem: B. Good, no?
Geometry: B-. Oh, how I surprise myself.
Band: A
PE: C. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

I can't remember what else. I'm satisfied enough. My cum GPA is 3.677 so far, and I'm too caught up to give a damn.

What a great attitude, right?

Ah. Friend withdrawal. One of the many symptoms of a lonely summer.

You know, part of me wants this loneliness, and the other part just wants to be surrounded by my friends. I was talking to Richard (who IMed me from an internet café in Oxford, England) and I was pleased to hear that he was okay. I'm not very sturdy when it comes to British geography, so I wasn't really aware of the fact that Oxford is an hour away from London. I'm still worried nonetheless and I hope he and his friends are okay in abroad. I was also pleased to know that Kate was with Richard. I haven't talked to Kate in ages (a few months, I'd say), so it was good to talk to her.

Richard brought up a good point. He said that he misses people, and he is only reminded of this because he sees people that remind him of everybody else back home. I miss people in a different sense, I guess. I miss them because everybody else around me seems inadequate -- all of the new people, the strangers, the old friends who are randomly dropping in. They all seem half-empty, like they there isn't really any substance to what they say. They seem like they've missed the boat. Seeing them makes me realize why we all grew apart.

Anyways, as for missing people, it's such a weird feeling. It makes me feel like an escape artist gone wrong. Two weeks ago, all I wanted to do was leave Greenwich. I've basically lived out of a suit case for the past two weeks, coming and going, catching planes and trains, all to get out of here and away from everything that reminds me of my family -- most notably my father. I wanted to leave so badly, but when I was gone, I kept feeling guitly about it, so I kept finding excuses to come back home. I failed, in that sense. As soon as I left I wanted to come back, and now that I'm back to where I started, I just want to leave again.

I'm guessing that my escape antics gone wrong are coming from all of the emptiness around me. I feel like there's a black hole around my house sucking out anything that could possibly be comforting, so I'm searching for my friends that are always there to listen to me, but I can't find them. They've all disappeared. Eric is at Chinese SAT camp (a hellhole in itself), Richard is in Britain, Bill is in Germany, Aerim is probably off in Jersey or Queens (one can never be sure, but all I know is that she isn't in Greenwich), Mike is in Maine, Elliot is in Philadelphia, Lindsay is all over the place (I don't want a friend that's all over the place. I want it all to be stable like it was before...), Emily J. is in South Dakota living on a Lakota reservation, and I don't want to seek out Emily S. I don't want to hear what she has to say, because I know it will not mean anything to me, but I also know that it won't be what I want to hear. I need time away from her to get this friendship back to where it was last September. Seeking her out just wouldn't be the right thing to do at the moment.

It's so annoying how everybody is away at the same time.

On a different note, I have another tale from an escape plan ended.

I just got back from the country up in New York state -- very open, many trees, horses, cows, etc. It was a cathartic experience, seeing all of that open land, and I must admit that I felt most American when I saw it. I felt as if that was the right thing to be doing, the right place to be, the right place to seek out to get away from it all. I was wrong, because after two days it didn't feel right -- it felt quite the opposite. I felt even more detatched from everybody, and I really wanted to go home. Getting home was refreshing, too. Lindsay's mom drove us to the Bronx, and from the Bronx, we took the train (Fordham-Greenwich), got off, and had some cheap coffee and a bagel. It was raining like mad, and Lindsay's boyfriend drove me home, which I was grateful for.

Not such a story, but I'm just glad to be back. This trip started the night after I got back from Florida, which was fun at times, partially because I was with Mary and Lisa, but got old pretty quick, partially because I was with Mary and Lisa. I couldn't take the cliquey attitudes. They're both seniors, so I really felt like a junior on this trip, more so than others, simply because they made me feel like a junior for some parts of the trip. And besides that, I hate the heat (and the south).

Elliot was right -- this escaping isn't a good thing, and it isn't helping me out at all. He can now have the pleasure of telling me that he was right, I was wrong, etc, etc.

On a lighter note, Mrs. Boyea called in for me, and she informed me of my AP exam grade. I got a 5! I'm thoroughly excited about that and I really want to know everybody elses scores.

On another random note, I took pictures and saturated/de-saturated them out of boredom. Because I am a camera whore and I found myself to be very interesting today dressed up in a sweater in July (a very cold day, I might add!), I decided to snap them.









I don't do the emo thing -- I just have a penchant for nice sweaters.

My father died yesterday night. I was in Washington D.C. when I heard the news. This morning, I woke up at 8, and stayed in the dorm for four hours. By myself... when I wanted people to be with me the most. But not just any people... my friends. After that, I got a ride to Union Station, in which I waited for two and a half hours by myself to catch a train to Stamford. My aunt was on the train with me, so at least I wasn't alone.

I asked for the loneliness. The head of the program offered to wait with me, but I said no. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to be with any of those people. I would have felt more alone and awkward with them.

I can't deal with the "I'm so sorry" bullshit from people that don't know me. The head of the program met me yesterday morning. Who the fuck is he to act like my life is his cup of tea?

My father died yesterday night. I say this over and over, but it still doesn't make sense, and in my head I am still the worst daughter who never spoke up. I didn't say enough. I wasn't there. The last time I talked to him was on Friday night. The only reason I called him was over a Mets/Yankees game. If that game had not happened and if I had gone to my friend's Sweet 16 party, I would never have heard my father's voice. I wouldn't remember it. (Note from me: Chelsea, I am sorry that I couldn't make it, but I am glad that I didn't go, because of reasons previously mentioned.) His voice would have been too distant of a memory. Because when I talked to him, when he used the last of his voice, he loved me. I just wasn't enough, I guess. Not the best daughter.

Not the best.

My father died yesterday night; I keep telling myself this, but it just cannot stick! Daddy will come home! He will! That is going through my head, among other things. But, he can't. Daddy died.

My father died yesterday night; this sentence only is more and more surreal.

My father died yesterday night; he won't be living in the house anymore.

My father died yesterday night; my friends are coming to the funeral.

My father died yesterday night, and I'm speechless.

I'm seeing Sleater-Kinney tonight! I'm so pumped!

I love how random shit like this happens. The crowd going to Sleater-Kinney was originally just the Catalyst (Joey, Mike, Sammy, Lloyd), but Sammy couldn't go, and they had an extra ticket. Aerim and I were chilling at Putnam and eating dinner with the Catalyst and I randomly mentioned some chick wearing a very misogynist shirt and then I mentioned being a feminist. Then Lloyd mentioned Sleater-Kinney and I expressed my jealousy of their concert tickets, and Lloyd informed me that they had an extra because Sammy backed out. I was promptly invited, and then Aerim was left out of the loop, unfortunately, which made me feel pretty damn bad. When we got to Mike's place later that night, we ended up ordering Aerim a ticket, so, voila. Joey, Mike, Lloyd, Aerim, and I are all taking the train into NYC tonight to rock out at Sleater-Kinney, and I'm fucking excited. Shit like this does not happen every day.

On a less exciting note, I interviewed for a volunteering position at the Bruce Museum. I'm volunteering in the store on Wednesdays and Thursdays in July, which won't be a grand old time, but it'll get me my volunteer hours. And besides that, I get a 20% discount on the things in the store, and because the female Buddhas exhibit is opening up, there is going to be some pretty cool shit in the store.

Last night was loads of fun, though, getting back to friends-related stuff. We ended up sitting in the middle of a Catalyst jam session which was insanely brilliant, and then we went swimming in the pool. Before the swim session, though, Mr. McKeever informed me that I would probably be a lawyer, and a good one at that, because I could totally school somebody in history. ("Well, with all of that history genius!") I love these people. I don't want to be a lawyer at all, but I fucking love these people.

I just found out from my mom that she's taking me up to Boston for a weekend this fall to look at some colleges. I'm excited.

Here is a list, as of now, of schools that I want to look at next school year (they aren't all in Boston):

Brandeis
NYU
George Washington
Tulane
Boston University

That's it so far, but I definitely am leaning towards NYU and Brandeis. I'm going to have to work my ass of junior year, because my grades aren't that impressive for sophomore year (translation: a lot of shit hit the fan). I definitely think that I can pull an A in math if I do all of the homework and study minimally, a B in AP Bio if I work my ass off, an A in Honors CA if I just do what is expected of me (an A+ if I act like the pretentious historian-wannabe that I am!), an A in French if I study hard, etc.

I just have to study... I also need to join clubs. I'm thinking about joining the Beak (school newspaper), just because I know a few people involved, and it's a good thing to do. Also, I'm going to rejoin Students for Political Action, and I'm going to get more active in the Sierra Student Coalition. I went to a few of the Sierra things this year, but really getting involved next year will be nice. If Aerim has that refugee club up and running, I suppose we can do that.

And, hell, if the opportunity presents itself, I will form an Irish club, because I know people would join. I could get Callaghan, Sterrett, and McKeever (how Irish!) to join, and I could probably get Aerim and others to jump the bandwagon. Of course, we'd actually need a purpose, but whatever... It could be to "promote Irish culture" or some crap phrase like that.

I just gotta get involved this year.

What courage...

She is by far one of the most courageous women on the face of the planet. It's horrible that they're detaining her! She is such a beacon of hope, though.

Uh. Yea. It's all over.

I'm happy about that. So damn happy.

I have decided that I should make a scrapbook for this summer. I'm going to start it off with events that happened yesterday, such as Mike's concert. I think I should lay it out like this.

June 17th: The Catalyst
June Blah Blah: NYC with Emily J.
June 26 - July 1: Washington D.C.
July 2 - 5: Florida

And then include random crap about concerts and all of that glorious stuff that happens in between.

I'm going to go to Waldenbooks in the center of town and ask if they need any more employees. Can't hurt to ask.

So. The question that hits me most right now is, "Does everything happen for a reason?".

I don't know if I can believe in God. My brain won't let me. I don't know what I think about Karma -- I suppose, what goes around does come around, but still. Is life all about serendipity -- those fortunate accidents and such?

I talked to TJ today, and it was actually relieving. I felt like we were completely on the same page... about everything, I suppose. I never realized until now how low his self-esteem is. It makes him run from things. He knows that I'm too strong (or, full of my self and my intentions, at least) to let him run away. This is why we make such a good pair of friends. He wants to run from certain things, but I'll stay, vice versa.

I asked him why anybody could ever like me. The question came up because he was talking about another acquaintance of ours (well, used to be a really good friend). This guy thought of me as a sister. He was, indeed, like a brother to me. Then he started to like me, apparently, and told TJ about it. I think the situation was awkward for everybody. Back to the point, I asked him why anybody could ever like me. He told me that he'd answer the question if I wanted to know that badly, so I let him speak. I felt rather pleased with myself, finally understanding how I appear to quite a few on the outside.

"You're intelligent, clever, and with witty comments. You have this smile that hints 'I know something that you don't', but you keep it secret. You're able to see beyond all of this." Something to that extent. I forgot the rest, to tell you the truth, but it made me happy. I was content with his comment for a few reasons. When he had said this I realized that not everybody changed this year. Some of them improved, but I'll be damned if they changed. Some people, like TJ, didn't change at all. They just went away for a period of time, then came back the same person, with a few mental/physical improvements. For the better, all for the better. I realized that there are some people out there, regardless of where you are, that will always see you for who you are. The sort of people that actually know you inside and out, regardless of what you say or how you appear.

Those are the people that truly count.

It seems I can only count on one hand these people, and half of the ones that I count are just too consumed with other things. Like, I don't know, they want to change or something. The people who I actually know deep down seem fewer and fewer. I don't know why. Maybe it was the stupid comments of fake sympathy, or just the stupid comments in general. Stupid things said by seemlingly intelligent people. Stupid habits that got picked up. Stupid sayings, clichés, etc. It goes on and on.

So, do things that occurred last year matter? Little mistakes threw things that could have happened off course. And those little mistakes matter right now, I suppose. So and so decided to back off because his friend liked a girl that he liked at the time. But he liked the girl, and continued to do so. He didn't want to ruin the friendship, but everything kind of spilled, today being the day. Everything manifested itself in a simple conversation that could have been covered a year ago, but nobody was brave enough to say such things, and nobody wanted to make such a big deal out of something that seemed so little. Well, it's not little. It's real. And that's what matters.

So, I must come to the conclusion that everything happens for a reason. I've always believed that deep within my mind. Why not the heart? I'm not ready to think with the heart. When you think with the heart, I suppose you open your Pandora's Box up, and you lose a lot of yourself with the opening. You've got to struggle to keep yourself -- inch by inch, bit by bit, in hope of not losing everything in the end. When you think with your heart you are allowing yourself to erode away much like the ocean rubs against the rock, calmly at first, but then getting more and more vigorous as the days pass on. And everything does happen for a reason. It has to. Why? Because I'm not eroding. I'm me. Nothing's changed, because last year, in the dead of winter, or fall, or whenever these things happened, we didn't let them. We didn't let them change, so they couldn't, and because they couldn't, we've let the chips fall, and now we're all admiring our little mess. And shit, I like my little mess. It's brilliant.

And maybe I really am changing. Maybe everybody else is just staying the same. I'm beginning to think that it's really that, not the opposite. Maybe the people who really know their worth are just changing at the same rate that I am, steadily, but not eroding. The rock can't move. It cannot evolve, it just sits there by the sea, by the stormy waters, day by day, night by night, until nothing is left but its sediments, slowly drifting off into the ocean, scattered. And those are the people, scattered, just like every other flake of rock, ending at the very state that they started in. I'm beginning to think these people, these people that sometimes depress me too much to even look at, are the ones who are staying the same.

I feel pleased with myself.

I had my AP gov meeting today, and judging from the class turn out, I already loathe half the class. Ugh. The Eastern-Greenwich-slut squad, and most of the people too candyass to take AP US or commit to any workload whatsoever.

Ugh. And Mr. Hull made me want to explode. His summer work is ridiculous. I don't mind the articles or the journals we have to do, but I absolutely hate his anal retentiveness. He makes me want to cringe. "No 9.95 size font, please....." was one of the many things he said, including a ten minute speech on how students try and cheat by stuff as much writing as they can into one page. The Schoenfeld Gov kids got to leave -- their meeting consisted of Schoenfeld just handing them a packet, and that was it. My group, on the other hand, got a 20 minute lecture on the importance of random bull shit.

On a lighter note, we played our video in AP today. It was fucking brilliant. Definitely the best one in the class, as far as I'm concerned.

Thirteen random things you like.
01) Tea
02) Being Irish
03) Summer vacation
04) Strong collarbones
05) Music
06) My friends
07) Sushi
08) New York City
09) Subways
10) Boston
11) Cultures
12) History
13) People watching

Twelve random things you want.
01) Weight loss
02) Some nice concert tickets
03) Money
04) A ride this friday night
05) Understanding
06) A nice hair cut
07) A new metro card
08) Skirts
09) Flip flops
10) Shoes
11) A boyfriend
12) Summer!

Eleven good bands -or- artists.
01) Bikini Kill
02) Belle & Sebastian
03) Damien Rice
04) Idlewild
05) The Beatles
06) Bob Dylan
07) Pink Floyd
08) The Catalyst
09) PJ Harvey
10) Pavement
11) Ben Lee

Ten things about you [physically].
01) Bad vision -- contact lenses needed
02) Blue eyes that look green at times
03) Long hippy-hair
04) Nice collarbone
05) Small feet
06) Short -- almost 5'2.
07) Heavier than I was last year
08) Fair skin
09) Straight teeth (no braces needed)
10) Clear skin

Nine thoughts.
01) "Romance" by Yuki Kajiura is a brilliant piece of music
02) I really want a hair cut.
03) This tea is nice.
04) I'm heavier than I was last year.
05) My fingernails are nice.
06) I must buy a bathing suit.
07) Finding a bathing suit that actually fits will be quite a task.
08) I have no ride to Mike's show in Danbury.
09) TJ is probably coming with me to the show.

Eight favorite foods -or- drinks.
01) Strawberries
02) Cherries
03) Tea
04) Sushi
05) Celery
06) Orangina
07) Gyoza
08) White cheddar rice cakes

Seven things you wear daily.
01) Contact lenses
02) Rings
03) Sandals
04) Jeans or a skirt (mostly jeans)
05) Earrings (not so much lately)
06) A shirt
07) Underwear

Six things that annoy you.
01) Clarinetist arrogance
02) People with GPAs over 5.0
03) Nasty tea
04) Greenwich-elitist attitudes
05) Closed minds
06) People that can't transcend high school

Five things you touch everyday.
01) Mug
02) My hair
03) Bed
04) Computer
05) iPod

Four shows you watch.
01) Dr. 90210
02) Various shows on the History Channel
03) The news on CNN!
04) .... uh... Yea... Nothing much else... I watch TV very rarely...

Three people you don't know but you know of.
1) Those scene fucks
2) Hipsters
3) Sluts

Two things you hate.
01) Weight
02) Greenwich-elitist-attitudes

One thing you love.
01) Trains

Have you ever felt like nothing fits correctly? Like nothing falls into place? That's what everything feels like right now. I can't explain it -- it's purely teenage.

I can't wait until Emily and I go to the city. I long for these trips. Just... a way to get away from everything. That's what the train feels like, each time. Can't replace that feeling with anything.

Today was the last day of classes... very pleasing stuff. Finals are next week, and I'm not that worried. I think I'm going to study a little for math sunday night, but I don't know how much it will help. Monday night I'm going to study briefly for chem, but I'm not too worried about it. Tuesday night I'll review minor scales for band (hahahahahahah, what a joke), and then I'll study hard for French. I'm actually worried about the French... So. Yea. Definitely have to study for that. English is a joke this year, and no matter how hard I study I'll still get a B plus, so I'm not really going to mind it so much.

Since when did 'dyke' become a toss-around joke insult? I'm so sick of these ridiculous bullshit names that kids think its cool to throw around. Cody wanted a brownie today in English and wouldn't shut up about it, so when Charlotte asked me if I wanted one, I took one and I gave it to Cody. She then said to me, "Susan. You're such a dyke." Is that supposed to be funny, or something? I don't care what she was implying, because she's an idiot. I think the fact that anybody would call me such a thing is laughable. The connotation behind it and its direction towards me makes me laugh at the immaturity of the person who utters the word. But just the fact that somebody thinks it's cool to say something like that is ridiculous.

Charlotte had been making me laugh all day. It must have been the fact that she was wearing men's nantucket red pants and telling everybody about it. "Everybody asks if I'm wearing Camber's pants, but, I'm not! He doesn't wear the real thing! He wears cheap $14.50 shit from Target. I'm wearing the real thing. It's all about the real nantucket red." Give me a break. The mere fact that this pink color is being manufactured as red to a bunch of idiotic guys makes me laugh. Let alone some used-to-be-uncool-but-now-richer-and-cool actually giving everybody a rundown on her pants. People, get over yourselves.

But. Dyke. That's just as bad as 'cunt', 'kike', 'chink', 'mic', 'jap', 'nigger'... But, yea, because it describes a gay person, we can throw it around. Is that how it goes? I don't know about you but my friend Alex who proudly wears the word on her shirt could probably take any one of us down. With a smile and nicely styled hair, as well. It wouldn't be so cool if I started screaming 'kike' at the top of my lungs. In fact, I'm not an asshole, so I would never do such a thing. I think it's because I have too much respect for the people around me, history, but mostly myself. I hate words like that. People need to get over their prejudices. Whoever thinks 'kike'/'chink'/'fag'/'dyke'/'nigger' is cool just needs to get over it. (Translation: the world won't stop to accomodate you.)

Yea. I'm rambling. A lot. This just pissed me of. Not because she directed the comment at me, but the fact that she did it thinking it would be funny -- mainly the mere fact that she even dared to use the word. People have no respect for themselves. They aren't aware of how stupid they seem.

And, even Cody, who isn't exactly the most politically correct person on earth, knew that it was wrong. You aren't supposed to say shit like that. You just aren't.

Committee gives FBI more Patriot Act power...

Ugh. I'm so sick of this crap. Talk about being disillusioned with your country.

Anyways, at least I converted my brother over to the Democratic Party (or... err... a more left-wing group...).