I hate summer break.

I wish summer break was over already.

I AM SO FUCKING LONELY.

Angel of Death

Oh man, I need to blog more. I really do. I love to write, I love to talk. Why on earth did I stop? I'll try to pick it back up. Y'know, that whole daily thing? Yeah.

Anyways. On to today's topic.

I got dragged into JulNo. I decided, "Hey, writing is good for the soul! I might as well give it my best shot!", and it started really well. I had a fantastic idea.

Plot Summary:
Our main character is Chelsea. Chelsea Dies. When Chelsea dies she becomes an Angel of Death. So now she follows people around until they die. She decides to bend the rules a bit and tell people their going to die before they actually do. The book deals with a lot of death-related-issues.

That sounds kind of bland, but when I was explaining it earlier it sounded better. I was really excited to write this book. Then I started, and there was one teeeensy little problem:

I couldn't hear Chelsea. She didn't have a voice.

Writing her just wasn't fun. She wasn't a person I knew or could get to know, she wasn't a person at all. Chelsea did things because the plot needed her to, she didn't do them because that's what she wanted to do personally. Now, anyone who knows me knows I am heavily character driven. Whatever I write, the people are the most important prospect. Plot? Screw plot. If I have awesome characters they'll do something interesting eventually.

And because of my dependence on my characters, I couldn't write this book. I've been screwing around with writing some other stuff, y'know, nothing big. Some terrible, OOC, slashy, sex-filled Snape/Draco fanfic, a bit of extra stuff with the characters from Delinquent, some role play. And because of my screwing around I've got a new character running around my head, his name is Murk.

Murk is awesome. I love Murk. He's my little wizard kid. I'm still figuring this guy out, but I'll post more about him in a later Blog.

Peace out.

School is Closing Out

It is finals week, that terrible mix between being bored-out-of-your-mind and stressed-beyond-belief. Half your classes have nothing going on, while the other half have a test worth ten to fifteen percent of your grade. It imposes a sort of stress related emotional whiplash. On top of this is the anticipation for the summer, because it is so close, but still slightly out of reach. The entire practice is singularly frustrating. I find it unfair that the faculty and system expect the student body to be able to focus on academics and test well under these conditions.

Or maybe I'm just feeling uncharitable because I spent two and a half hours on a test this morning.

Missing Enmar Already

I have just been hit with how much I am going to really, really, truly miss Enmar.

He is the center and core of our Robotics team, and I can't imagine this family without him. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I know he's leaving off to "far, far away" to go to college. So this is really the end.

There will never be another FIRST season with Enmar by our side.

The only reason I'm not in happy-sad-sentimental tears is because he is still a part of my Moonbots team. I don't have to say "Goodbye" quite yet. But we're so close to it. And part of it is already older.

He's like a big brother and a good friend at the same time. I will miss the random and rather odd moments of Enmar Affection. Including, but not limited to, rubbing my head or hugging me from behind while yelling "RAPE!".

He had a great sense of humor, a weird laugh, and I wish he hadn't felt so put-upon during his last year here. I really hope he remembers this as a good thing, and not a stressful hunk of yuck.

I'm going to miss all of the seniors next year, and it's looking like there's going to be quite a bit of member changing going on to form a different team... but Enmar still seems to be the major loss for me, because I'm missing him already.

Confrontation

I am absolutely terrified of confrontation. Of any confrontation.

Let's say I go to the bathroom at school. If there's another person in the bathroom I have to wait for them to leave before I can exit the stall because I don't want to have to confront the possibility of talking to them. I know it's stupid, I know nothing at all bad would happen, but it still scares me.

Or I'm at a stop sign and there's another car at the same intersection. I get a panic attack and freeze up because even if I know which of us has the right of way, I still don't know who is going to go first. That's why I failed my first driving test.

And when someone, anyone, catches me doing something wrong, I will lie about it.

I can't help it. It's compulsive. Even though I know it's a terrible idea and it's only going to get me into deeper trouble I am so absolutely terrified of that person being mad at me that I can't tell them the truth and admit I fucked up. I try to lie and smooth it over so they won't get upset with me. I know it will only get worse, but I will still do it. Every. Time.

This is why I try to live an honest life. Not because I think it's the right thing to do (although it is) but so that there won't be any reason for me to lie.

I know where this stems from. I am completely aware this is another offshoot of my Daddy Complex. When I was a kid my dad would could shoulder me and down talk me if I did even the slightest thing out of his taste, and so I desperately tried to cover it up whenever I screwed up.

So, yeah. I know I have a problem. I know why I have a problem. I am willing to admit this and ask for help.

Which means I think it's completely uncalled for that my Mom's initial reaction is to say I'm insulting her by saying talking to her could possibly be a sort of confrontation, and that her proceeding to make fun of me for admitting I even have problems talking to people at school in the bathroom is just mean spirited. I don't know what to say. She and my brother were both laughing, but I was crying. Even if it was a joke, even if my fears are utterly ridiculous and are practically begging to be made fun of... They are still my fears, and they are legitimate enough to me that it hurts me when they are made fun of. If I am crying it is not funny.

I Am Petty

There are two gossiping older ladies sitting in my spot.

Okay, I know it's not technically my spot. There are twenty-eight days out of the month that I am not staying here and that other people sit at that table. But when I am here, that is my spot. It's the table with the power outlet next to it! It's located at the side of the room next to a wall where I can be out of the way and sit there for four hours with no one caring. And there are gossiping ladies sitting there.

I am greatly displeased.

This feels unfair for some reason. I've been going to this hotel for over six years now. I've seen four sets of staff come and go, I've seen the building change franchises. Through all of this, I have sat in that seat.

In addition to being forced to sit in the table next to them (in order to be close enough to plug in), I am being forced into listening to their gossip.

I am still greatly displeased.

Now they're not sitting anymore. They're getting ready to leave. But they're still just standing there, next to my table, gossiping. I have no clue when they'll leave.

I am aware I am being petty.

Don't be So Genderist

Genderist.

It's like sexist, but instead of discriminating against a gender, the individual is discriminating against both genders being outside the gender "box".

It is my new pet peeve.

My mother can not get it through her head that Brandon is my Best Friend, with those wonderful capital letters denoting he means more to me then I can rightfully describe with words, and that he understands me better then all of my other friends combined.

No offense to any of my other friends reading this. I love you, too. It's just not the same flavor of love.

I can trust him to be there for me no matter what. I can trust him to never judge me, no matter what. We have so much in common it's scary.

More then that, our relationship is "safe". He's like my Nakama (Brandon, as I'm sure you're reading this, it's a One Piece term I'll tell you about later). I'm not going to worry about anything about it. That's an achievement for me, I'm a worry-whore.

My mother can not get this through her head, and is mistaking my love for Brandon as romantic sort. After I got home from his house one of her questions was, "So, do you think he likes you?". This is after she has been informed he has a girlfriend he is completely besotted with, and that Brandon is my Best Friend. This makes me want to tear at my hair and tell her she's missing the point.

Gahasd;lfkjas.
^General noise of frustration.