thesummeroftwentyten-blog

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Repeating History

He stole my binder again. What maturity? There is apparently no maturity in high school. I was just walking down the hallway to my next class when he ran up behind me and stole it from my arm. He ran in the other direction, clearly expecting a chase, but I was headed to my last class and there was no need for my binder in chorus. I knew he’d give it back before we left for the day. Or he’d leave it in our homeroom for the next day. He always did. This was not a rarity for our relationship; to steal each other’s things and then chase each other around the school with them.

I just wasn’t in the mood today. I had just come from math class where Heather told me that Aly told her that she heard from her friends in the dance clique, that he asked Tracey out. Not that I’m really that shocked by the action. She’s beautiful and has been hanging around him more than usual for the past week or so, dropping hints about her being single and wanting a boyfriend. I’m just hurt that he asked her out so quickly, after flirting and playing around with me since we’ve gotten back to school.

As soon as I got to chorus, I sat down and immediately started texting my best friend, Vanessa. Who, of course being too much of the good girl, wouldn’t check her phone until the bus ride home. But telling her stuff is how I sort out how I feel about it, even if we don’t talk about it until later.

“Dear Ness, Milo askd Tracey out. :( Idk what to do.”

A split second after I sent the text, I felt someone tugging my ponytail behind me. “Here’s your binder. You’re no fun today, is something up?” I looked up at this boy that I’ve known for almost a year and a half. He was just a few inches taller than me, but lankier. His long curly hair was loosely tied behind his neck, probably to keep out of his face for his painting class that I know he had next. He scooted my binder on the floor under my chair and sat down next to me, his tan long arms immediately going around my shoulders so that he could keep playing with my ponytail.

I smiled at him, “Yeah, all cool. Just tired I guess. Now get to class! You have like a minute to get half way across the school!”

“Whatever. Are you sure you’re cool? You were cool at lunch. Did something happen last class?” His eyes, sparkling blue behind his glasses, stared at me, waiting for me to say something.

The bell rang and my chorus director is looking at Milo like he’s wondering how another boy, practically an endangered species in chorus, ended up in here with out him knowing about it.  I can see him pulling up the attendance sheet, and know that he’s going to start calling role.

“Nope. Just… math! Only math! Hahahaha I love math.”

“Alright, well I grabbed you a cookie from the sixth grade dance down in the caf. It’s in your binder. See you later. IM me tonight! I have something to tell you.”

“You are amazing. I’ll talk to you later!”

He gives my hair a final tug on his way out, in a familiar gesture that makes me melt on the inside, and bolts down the hallway. He’s going to get into trouble for being late, but I know that he just really doesn’t care.  He honestly thinks the worst the school can do is suspend him or expel him, and since he couldn’t care less about either, the rules are just something to break. He barely goes to class unless I walk him and make sure he sits down. He spends most of his time in his friend’s classes, or staying in the cafeteria for all four lunch-cycles. If I hadn’t kicked him to his next class, he would have stayed with me. The teachers generally don’t care if you visit their class, so long as you just tell them that your teacher said it’s alright, but he’s spent too much time in my chorus class lately and I’m afraid that Mr. Reifenburg will get suspicious.  The school is new enough that there’s no real structure to it and students can mostly get away with whatever as long as they claim “creative freedom,” or that they have something important that their working on in an elective class. Ah, art school.

When I get home that night, I immediately go to my computer.  I first pull up MySpace to check for new messages, and then sign on to AIM. I have one message from Vanessa waiting for me while AIM is slow to load.

“Dear Steph,

            I’m so sorry. I just got your text… well, I just turned on my phone. Tracy is so ICKY! I can’t believe he asked her out. You two we’re made for each other! Maybe you should just tell him that you like him? IDK. Let’s just tell him that we don’t like her and maybe he’ll break up with her! Or maybe they’ll break up later? We’re in 9th grade for goodness sakes! They’ll be broken up by tomorrow. It’ll all be okay! I’m here for you!

Love,

Vanessa (VA being the key! My name isn’t Ness!)

I’m already tying a response when an IM from Milo pops up on my screen.

Pissedoffatchu: Hey! You there?

InsaneSteph: Hello! What’s up witchu?

Pissedoffatchu: Nm. Just hanging out. U?

InsaneSteph: Hangin too. Just got home. How do you always beat me home?    You live like an hour away.

Pissedoffatchu: Skip fourth period! Duh! :P

InsaneSteph: Mi! You need to start going to class on your own with out me making you! Don’t fail out on me! What will I do if you’re a year behind?

Pissoffatchu: Yeah, yeah Anie. I’ll do better, I promise! :P

 InsaneSteph: Mmhm. What’d you wanna tell me?

Pissedoffatchu: Oh yeah, I just wanted to know what you think of Tracey.

Crap. I don’t want to talk about her. I just want to talk about happy things and send emoticons back and forth until we get tired of typing.  Can’t we just do that?

Pissedoffatchu: U still there?

InsaneSteph: Yeah. IDK Tracey that well. She’s nice I guess.  She’s been hanging around a lot lately.

Pissedoffatchu: Yeah. I kinda asked her to by my GF today. Well, she really asked me to ask her. IDK. I guess I kinda like her.

InsaneSteph: That’s nice! I GTG. Dinners ready and I have HW.

InsaneSteph has logged off

I panicked. What else do you say? I really don’t like Tracy and I think we should go out instead because I’ve liked you since I met you? No. People don’t do that. Do they?

For the next few months, Mi and I went about our normal routine. Me bending over backwards to make him happy and him being an ignorant and self serving ass. I tolerated Tracey and waited for her to be a non-issue again. We made friendly conversation during lunch, but never really talked when Milo wasn’t around. Mi was still my best friend and we still did crazy things like start games of duck duck goose at our lunch table and sit on the floor of our classrooms claiming to have a deep seeded phobia of desks and chairs. We just did these things less often because Tracey thought we were immature and stupid.

The semester had come and gone, and with the new semester came spring break. I went on a vacation with my dad for spring break where my only communication to home was a letter Ness sent me half way through the week. In the letter she told me that apparently Milo and Tracy were fighting over MySpace bulletins and then their relationship status changed to single.

            School after spring break was surprisingly normal. I didn’t know the full story, but Tracey wasn’t hanging around us and he was quieter than usual. I wrote it all off as usual break up drama, and tried to ease tension and go about business as usual.

I was walking from my classroom to the front desk of the school to deliver a message for my teacher, when I heard yelling from the locker rooms. “WHY CAN’T YOU LOOK AT ME?!”

“WHY CAN’T YOU ONLY LOOK AT ME?!”

The locker rooms are right smack in the way of my errand; so I couldn’t do anything else other than walk by and have them see me. Walking by, I saw Milo and Tracey sitting at one of the benches staring at each other. It looked as if Tracey had tears in her eyes, and Mi looked as if he wanted to just burn a hole in to her forehead with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Oh, hey guys. Umm why aren’t you in class?” I was mostly talking to my best friend, as I seem to be his own personal hall monitor.

He immediately looked at me, and it looked like he was trying to relax his body from his fighting stance.  “We were on our way. Just got distracted.”

“Sounds like it.” That got a small smile from him and a cough from her.

“I’m going. Just please, call me later.” She walked out leaving Mi and I in an uncomfortable silence.

“So… what was that about?”

“Oh… um… well… I guess she cheated on me over break.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, she’s pregnant.”

Silence. What do you even say to that? A fifteen year old is pregnant. “Oh wow.” I guess that’s what you say.

“Tell me about it.”

“How do you know it’s not…” It was a fair question. Mi has always been that guy.

“Anie. No. It’s not.”

“But do you know for sure that..”

“Stephanie!” He said my name so abruptly, interrupting my thoughts, and when I looked at him I knew he was sure.

“Oh wow.”

“Tell me about it.” His eyes left mine and he resumed staring at the bench, waiting for it to move.

We stayed there for another couple of minutes until I remembered my original mission. “We have to get out of here. Walk with me?” He nodded and we silently walked to the front desk where I handed over my message and then turned around. I walked him to his classroom; our arms linked together, his other hand idly playing with the bracelet on my wrist. I watched him go in and sit in his seat before going back to class, mostly out of habit. I swear he wouldn’t go to class at all if I weren’t there to babysit him.

            As I walked back to my classroom alone, I could only imagine myself as Tracey. What do you do in that situation? Tell your parents, tell the father, and then what? Sixteen years old. What would I do? Drop out and try to raise a child? Get an abortion? Oh yeah, my dad would love that. Who knows? My mom always told me that you are the summation of your choices. The decision that she makes will shape her life for forever. I don’t know what I would do.

            The next week passed slowly.  We hadn’t heard from she-who-must-not-be-named-around-Milo since the shouting match that I walked in on. Mi and I we’re talking more than ever, but not about anything that mattered. He was trying to distract himself with me, and it seemed to be working. I kept things light when we were together.

            In English, we were supposed to be doing our weekly individual reading of “The Outsiders,” but we were really just passing notes to each other. I had already read the book, and even though he says he doesn’t care enough to, I know he’s read it. He’s smarter than he lets the teachers know. “Hey, you’re taking ballroom this year! Right? –S”

            “…yeah Why? –M”

            “Do you know how to waltz? –S”

            “Steph, what do you want? –M” I looked over and he was smiling. I think he knows where I’m going with this.

            “Teach me? –S”

            “When? –M” Oh, how can he not see this coming?

            Trying to hide my smile I get up from our usual reading spot, the back corner of the floor furthest away from others, and stand facing him holding my hands out. He chuckles and shakes his head, but stands anyway and takes my hands. Positioning our arms, he quietly tells me which foot to move, and off we go. It’s choppy, off beat and ridiculous, but we manage to pull it off with a straight face. Because the class is silently reading their books, it takes a couple of minutes for people to notice. Our teacher, who had her back to us, was enthralled in her computer screen and had no idea what was going on behind her back, that is until she heard the giggling.

            I couldn’t help it. That boy was playing with the hair on my neck with the hand that was supposed to be on my side. As he twirled my hair, a giggle burst from me in a silent room. I may as well of dropped a very large, very fragile pin and watched as it shattered to pieces on the floor. With that last ounce of resolve cracked, Milo started laughing. Really laughing; a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks. It was the bubbling laughter that bursts from you like the cork from a bottle of cheap champagne; contagious and beautiful. He was watching the faces of everyone around us, which I hadn’t noticed until he pointed them out with his hands through his giggling. Looking around, there were mixtures of smiles looks of concern, glares, and people just generally thinking we were crazy.

            Mrs. Harris, our teacher, was less than understanding of the situation. We calmly explained to her, after our giggles had subsided that we were done with our allotted reading and she had said to work on class work for other classes when we were done, and that Milo needed to practice! She didn’t find us amusing. As she was starting to tell us to go back to our seats, I noticed the door opening and in walks Tracey.  

            He immediately stands rigidly, and asks for a bathroom pass. I watch him pass her on his way out and tuck his arms in so that she wouldn’t even accidentally brush against him. She walked in and sat next to me, in hopes that Milo would come back to our spot; but when he walked in, he sat on the opposite side of the room. I quickly gathered his things and passed his bag to him down the row of students. The rest of the day was spent much the same with her sitting next to me, my best friend sitting pretty far away from me, and me just ignoring the situation until it went away. Which all too soon it did.

My mind kept wandering while I weaved in and out of city traffic, trying desperately to get home. I kept passing familiar places that brought up still fresh memories, and instead of telling those stories to Greg, I just kept singing to the radio. Greg has been my rock for the past couple of years, through my first two years of college, and on to my third. He’s always known almost everything about me except for what happened those years ago with Milo. He’s coming home with me from college for Easter. This was the one year that he would be in town, and my mother insisted that he come. He of course had been to my house before, but this time just felt different. A couple of days ago, my oldest friend Vanessa brought up the memories of Milo to me. She saw him at the super market by her house and made some small conversation with him. Just basic “hi”s and “how are you?”s , nothing too deep. He was there with his adopted daughter who just turned 6 last week. She’s the spitting image of Tracey, but she acts just like my Milo. I guess that’s because she spends more time with him. From what Ness told me, Tracey works a full time job as a “sales person” for one of those door-to-door make up companies. So he, stays with their daughter while she’s working during the day, and then goes to his job at Walmart when she get’s back to their apartment at night.

            I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened almost 7 years ago. About Mi forgiving her after watching her try to make it on her own for months. Even though the baby wasn’t his, he was still the only man that stepped forward to help her. They quit school just after tenth grade, and only came back to after the summer break for a couple of days to get their drop out paper work taken care of. We stayed in touch for a while, but once Milo started working and after the baby came, it was hard. It was hard to see them together, and it was hard to see how different he was with her. He wasn’t carefree anymore. He started to worry about bills and insurance, and supporting his family. All of a sudden we had very little in common, and it hurt too much to keep in contact with my best friend when I had nothing to say to him anymore.

            Greg knows that one of my good friends in high school dropped out because his girlfriend got pregnant. He just doesn’t know the rest of the story; mostly because it’s hit a little to close to home for us. Being in love with your best friend is difficult, especially when you don’t want feelings to get hurt or for there to be awkward tension. But I learned my lesson all those years ago. Why wait until your best friend gets his current girl friend pregnant, to tell him you love him? Why wait at all?

“Greg, I have something to talk to you about.”

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

My whole life I haven't wanted to talk about it. 

My whole life I was just "fine" when anyone asked how I was. 

My whole life I was either crying out or standing silent. 

But this summer I learned that you don't get anywhere by not telling people how you feel.

I learned that it's not too late to stand up for yourself.

That no matter how long you've been friends with someone, that person can disappoint you and make you incredibly sad.

I've learned that people who want to, will stand by you. And people that don't will run away.

That just because I've been there for someone through everything, that doesn't necessarily mean they'll be there for me.

I've learned that my journal is truly my best friend because it knows every aspect about me, and not just what I choose to show to others.

This summer meant a lot to me. And I wish that it could have meant something for others too.  

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

We are journeying down a long road

With trees holding hands above our heads

And never ending pavement beneath.

The sky transforms from

One shade of blue to another

With mixes of pinks and oranges

In the middle.

.

The sound of wind, being forced

Through the vacancies beside us,

Compete for dominance with the

Head banging music raging on the radio.

Songs I've never heard, yet

He knows all of the words to.

.

I look up to him from my

Standard position in the navigators seat.

He smiles down to me as he 

Bobs his head to the erratic beat

And screaming lyrics out the window.

.

His eyes only leave the road

For a short moment to watch

Me from the corner of his eye. 

He sees me awkwardly trying

To keep up with his pace and 

Crazed dance routine, but failing

Due to the laughter bubbling out of her. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Write a poem about being home sick. (revised)

When it's quiet and so dark 

That I can't quite tell if my eyes are open closed

And sleep hasn't quite taken my consciousness from me

I can still hear the familiar voices

From my still recent childhood

As memories replay in my mind.

.

They show me stories of my family

And my friends, the adventure we had

I giggle to my self as I reminisce.

And as I lay there on my bed

I drift on to fantastic dreams

of fond rememberance.

.

And I know that part of my life

Has flown away from me

Amidst birthdays and Christmases past

My home rests in peace with those happy times. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Write a poem about being home sick.

When it's quiet and so dark that I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed, 

And sleep hasn't quite taken my mind away from me, 

I can hear the familiar voices from my still recent childhood 

Replay fond memories in my head. 

They tell me stories of my family, and my my friends,

And the adventures we had. 

And I giggle to myself when I think of those memories,

While I lay there and dream fantastic dreams

Of the people I left behind and who left me behind.

But then it's still quiet. 

And I know that part of my life has flown away amidst birthdays and christmass. 

My home rests in peace with those memories. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Did you know that I had never even held a boy's hand before?

Let's play a game. Never have I ever kissed anyone. Never have I ever had someone put their arm around me. Never have I ever been on a date. Never have I ever been to one of those super lame boy-girl parties where one boy tries to start up spin the bottle. Never have I ever danced with a boy. And never have I ever held hands. 

I'm a virgin in the truest sense of the word. I'm completely incompetent when it comes to guys, or dating or relationships. I had one boyfriend. In pre school. He drew me a cardinal on my winter tree mural, because I just didn't get how to draw birds. We held hands and laughed and played together. (Really we were just best friends that like kissing each others cheeks to make the teachers go crazy.) And it ended oddly. He had a sleep over with my best friend. I got mad at both of them. The bus ride home was uncomfortable and weird. And then that was it. I moved later that year and we haven't really talked since. Now we're Facebook friends and every once in a blue moon, one of our parents will spot the other and force us to say "Hi. How are you? Haven't see you since we were 5. Lookin taller."

Sometimes it's frustrating. Being behind the curve. I can't talk to my best friend about boys because there is no advice that I can give her. It feels like I'm failing a class that all girls pass when their in middle school. Like I missed that window for opportunity to awkwardly kiss someone for the first time and try to have a grownup relationship. Now I don't even know how I would begin to explain to a guy that he's my first hand to squeeze, arm to mold in to, and my first kiss. Who thinks that is a lot of pressure on one poor guy? Me. 

Last week, when we went to go see Harry Potter... during one of the scary parts, my guy friend offered me his hand to squeeze tight so that I wouldn't be scared anymore. I didn't want to tell anyone at the time... but that was the first time that I can ever remember holding a guys hand. Except for pre-school me. But pre-school shouldn't count because it was when I was 5. 

So now I'm thinking about all of this. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Moments...

It's that moment right after you said something. The stabbing pain of humiliation, the heartbreak of never being able to take those words back. Putting these words that this energy out into the world only to be told "you're wrong." I make mistakes with my words all the time. I jumble them in my head and they come out in a tangled mess of verbs and nouns. I say something that sounds completely normal and okay in my head and then once its out there, it just sounds wrong. Usually I'm pretty good at covering it up. Making it seem like I meant for this to happen. I meant for you to draw the wrong conclusion. But lately, it's been getting harder to think of what I want to say. "Because these words are my diary screaming out loud and I know that you'll use them however you want to. 2 am

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Major Decisions...

For me, major decisions are made out of sob-fests. Literal festivals of tears. I break down, decide something is wrong in my life, and then I fix it.

Sob-fest 2010 resulted in me seriously seriously seriously (three times is SIRIUS. [coughharrypottergeekcough]) considering me changing my major. For those who don't know, or couldn't tell by my last post, I'm an education major. Currently my full major title is "Secondary Education- Math." Yup. I wanted to be a math teacher. A middle school math teacher. Heres why:

The thing is, I love numbers. I love equations. I love shapes and angles and the pythagorean theorum. I just do. I don't know why. But I despise calculus. I'm really struggling in my pre-calc class right now. And in order to be a math teacher, I would have to take 4 semesters of Calculus. INTENSE.

So I had a break down. It went something like this:

I called my mom. And she asked how my math quiz went. And I said, well I got a 70, which is alot better than the 30 last week. So I'm happy. And she just started talking about me getting tutoring help or asking the professor for help. And I complained about not having time. And she started talking about me quitting my job and how education comes first. But the thing is, I'm saving my money for my education. I'm saving to a) start paying back my loans as soon as I'm out of school and b) for housing my senior year. The fact is, my trust fund is running out. Quickly. And I need to think ahead.

Well this conversation led to:

I went back up to my room after talking to her, and started complaining to my roommate (a usual occurance.) I then thought to myself, "F this. I can be an english teacher." Then I thought, well I really can't tech english because grammer hates me.

Que the panic attack:

"What do I teach if I can't teach math?!?!?!" "What would I do if I wasn't a teacher?!?!?!?!" "Why don't I have any options in life?!?!?!?!" Sobsobsobsobsob.

After calming down and looking at my degree guide for a while:

I thought about being a Communications major. Because the course load is small and theres no math. Just accounting. Which is why I stopped looking at that. And what do you do with a Comm major anyhow? I also looked at bussiness and marketing before I decided that I really really really want to be a teacher. Bad. I just do. In my "Technology in Education" class, we downloaded a gradebook software. And it was just about the most exciting thing ever. Really. It just was. I was so happy about this gradebook software. And the idea of having my own Parents night. And playing with construction paper. And making name tags. GAHHHH it just sounds so fun!

So, my mom came up to the school to see me, because she was worried. I ended up telling her that I want to be an Elementary Education major. Because theres less math involved and I can teach everything. And yay! I can teach CURSIVE! YES! She said that sounds amazing and now I just need to talk to my advisor.

Reactions I've gotten thus far have included:

"YESSSS FTW!"

"Isn't that what you were doing?"

and

"Well duhhh."

The more I think about it, the more it just makes sense.

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

When I was little...

When I was little, I didn't understand how my sister's hair always looked so good in pony tails, and mine didn't. It just bugged me. Alot. I just couldn't get that hers was higher, and looked less messy. So one day, I watched her put her hair up. She used a brush to comb it back. Que the lightbulb. I got it. 

Sometimes I wish I could just watch someone be an Education Major. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Ten Day Challenge: Day 1

Ten things I want to say to ten people. 

1) You just bug the crap out of me. Your annoying and belittling and toxic to be around. You dont make me feel good about myself. At all. Ever. 

2) I'm so glad that we've been becoming friends. Your becoming one of the people I'm coming to rely on. Thank you for being there. 

3) I'm sorry I'm not who you thought I would be. I'm sorry that I like childish things, and that I don't like to study or other crazy things. I'm sorry that I don't live up to expectations. 

4) You are amazing. You're just so talented and amazingsauce and full of heart. Your always there for me whenever I need you. Your my person. My person to rant to, and fan girl out to Doctor Who to. I love you like your my sister.

5) Why'd you have to be so mean? I hope you've changed since then.

6) I wish that we lived closer together. I mean, we live close, but I wish we saw each other more. I feel like if we were there for each other more, life would suck less. You're so great at being my best friend. We get each other. And I love that.

7)  I wish you'd grow up. 

8) I hoped that you would have gotten it before it got to this point. I hoped that you would have known you were wrong. I hoped that you know that I miss you. 

9) Sometimes I wish I had more courage to say what I always wanted to say to you.

10) I miss you like crazy. I can't breathe with out worrying about you. I'm sorry we don't talk more. We went from talking 6 times a week to never. I'm sorry that I'm busy and can't. I'm sorry that it hurts too much to try and shoot you an email. Please just be safe. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

30Days::30Letters The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise To

Dear Hungarian Boy,

You came into the bookstore on Saturday to return a textbook. The absolute last day for textbooks returns was friday, but my manager said that I could do it, if I really wanted to. I told you that as long as you had your receipt and kept it on the extreme down low, I'd do it. You rejoiced. It was amazing how happy you were. For a joke, I made you promise not to tell any one, ever. I made you pinky swear. And you did it. Amazing. You were so sweet. After I returned the book to the store, you asked if I wanted anything. A soda? A water? A hug? I said a hug would be great, and you gave me one. Best. Hug. Ever. You were just about the best hungarian I've ever met. Also, the first hungarian. But still. Thank you for the hug.

Love, Meghan

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Lezz get serius.

So, I've been gone for a while. Not just on the interwebz, but in life. I've been completley absent from everything. I blame work.

About five weeks ago, I got this amazing, fabulous, glamorous job at my campus bookstore. I initially imagined me running a register, and being amazing at it, and having everyone that comes in know my name, and for it to be the best experience ever. Well, my first day, I walked in, in my brand new Kohl's blouse, and was completely intimidated. After filling out an hours worth of paperwork, I was sent upstairs to where they keep the books. One of my managers brought me around the store and gave me the tour. She was being amazingly nice, but she was shoving mounds of information at my face, and I just didn't know how to react. I tried to take in what I could, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. After the tour, I was sent schlepping books from where are shipments are received, to the shelf. Tedious and boring and hard work, but necessary to get my bearing of where books go. Towards the end of the day, I was sent downstairs to get some register experience. I fumbled with money and credit cards. I didn't even attempt to make small talk with people for fear of being distracted. Every time my register drawer opened, I jumped ten feet into the air. I didn't go one lunch, because I didn't know when to, or how to, or what to eat, or where to sit. I was forced to take a break before  left, for legal purposes. I left, got into my car and cried. I didn't know these people. Nothing was familiar. I was afraid and wanted my friends to be with me. I wanted someone to turn to and say "What the hell am I doing wrong?" I got home and promptly fell asleep. The next day put on my work shirt, grabbed a coffee, and went back at it. The next day was 20 times better. I had things to do. I had a purpose. I had a joking familiarity with one of the guys. I had Ms Pat to show me what to do on the register. I had it a little figured out. 

Fast forwarding about 3 weeks, I now know this store from top to bottom. I make mistakes, but I'm not so afraid that my managers will hate me for them. I was given my own cash drawer at the register. I'm still fumbly with my money, but it's not as bad. I still only know where about half of the books are in the store, but I know how to look them up. There are people who started working a couple weeks after I did, and they ask me questions and look at me with a sense of authority. I'm happy, and everythings alright. 

The past two weeks have been the hardest. I'm being consumed with the bookstore. Rush is ending, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm still overwhelmed. It's just so much. I've been feeling like my entire being is in that store and I don't like it. I still enjoy work, I love most of the people I work with, I love what I do, and I love that I have stories to tell at the end of the day. I just am tired of not having a life. I need to find the balance and stay there. I'm working on it. 

So that is my excuse for not tumbling like I used to. Maybe I'll finally finish some of the drafts built up in my folder a bit later. But for now, this is it.

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

30Days::30Letters Sibling

I've failed at doing these lately, which my newest SIL (sister in law) has been reminding me about. So for her, this letter goes a bit like this:

Dear Johanna (Banana. Which, in my head, I ALWAYS put after your name. That's my "Confession."),

Have I ever written you a letter? I'm trying to remember, and I don't think I have. To be truley honest, I don't remember meeting you at all. I can sure remember a time before you being in my family's life. But I really can't remember the transition process of you being one of Chole's friends to being like my own sister. I just can't. I can remember Nichole asking me if it was okay if you were there when we went out to a movie or dinner or something, when l came to visit, and me saying "Duh! I was sort of expecting Jo to be there." I remember our legendary solo adventures that involved awkwardly chaperoning Clark's dates and seeing the best movie of ALL TIME. I remember you thinking I was crazy for taking the free apple juice at Safeway, in the middle of that blizzard. I remember Mom telling me that you and Chole were in a relationship, and I remember thinking "Okay, that makes sense. Because if that's not love, then I'm crazy." I remember Choley telling me that she was thinking about proposing to you. And that's when I saw our sort-of-sistership turning into I'm-going-to-know-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life. And I was really really really happy about it. 

I love that I have you in my life. I love that I can look to you as a role model, and an other older sister. I love that we can have quirky conversations over facebook, and that you read these enough to demand that I write more. 

One of the best thing about my Florida friends, is that they didn't know me when I was 12 and crazy annoying. One of the greater things about you (and a select other few) is that you knew me when I was 12 and crazy annoying, and you still love me. Which is ridiculously amazing, because I was an annoying little bugger. But the BEST thing about you, is how happy you make my sister. She deserves a lot of happyness in her life, and you're helping her with that. So thanks. 

With tons and tons of oodles of noodles of love,

Your former SNIL and present SIL,

Meghan.

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

30Days::30Letters Crush

Dear boy, 

Where are you? I've been waiting and waiting for you to present yourself to me. I've been holding out hope that you would pop out of no where and I would fall in complete love with the way you dress and smell and act around me. I've been wanting to talk about you to all of my friends and obsess about how I want to ask you out or call you. I want to "casually" bump into you and have meaningless small talk. I want to have to resist the urge to giggle excessively in your presence. I want to freak out when you call me and I want to feel like a creepy stalker because I know what you are allergic to.

But where are you? You haven't shown yourself around here in so long. The last time I've felt this way was two years ago. I miss the feelings of having a crush on someone. The weight on your chest when they are around that makes you wonder if your just crushing or having a heart attack. 

So, dear boy, I miss you. It'd be great if you could come around again soon. I want to like you. I just maven't met you yet. 

Love, Meghan

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

30Days::30Letters Best Friend

Dear Catie (because Malena already got one and you're tied for first place),

I don't really remember how we met. I know it was in youth group. I know that I completely misjudged you at first. To be honest, I didn't think we clicked when we first met. To be really honest, the second time I saw you, I couldn't remember your name. But you know how bad I am with names. So you can't blame me. Can you? 

It's been awesome being your friend for this long. You know why? Because as awkward as this is about to sound... I feel like we watched each other grow into completely different people through the years. We've both changed a lot. We we're (and still are at times) totally inseparable for a long time. Remember when we used to go to a movie every Friday? And of course, take pictures in the photo booth with our glasses like a bunch of bad asses. We'd stage music videos in Malena's garage/big movie screen room. We'd fail at being quiet at 4 am when parent's were sleeping. Heck, we still do that. We'd harass Mr. Seth every day, even on days we didn't have guitar. We told Ms. Angello that we liked her shoes every class we had with her. We wrote things in each other's yearbooks that would only make sense to us and that would make us both either laugh, or cry.  

Now that we're at college, we don't do those things as much. Which sucks a whole bunch, but we've replaced those things with other things. Now we call each other almost every day, or at least have extensive texting conversations. We half memorize each other's schedules to know when is a good time to call, and when's not. When we hang out we do more awesome things than usual, and we talk a heck of a lot more. 

Both of us have made new friends at our respective schools. We both have changed a bit since last summer. We're growing up, Shep Shed. What's up with that? Fix it for me? Please? You are one of the best friends I have ever had in my entire life. When somethings going wrong, or when I'm feeling off about myself, or when I've just had the worst day ever, or even when I've had the best day of my life, I call you. Admittedly, Im probably calling you while IMing Malena. But that's okay. 

I'm scared that we're growing up, but I'm not nervous that we're growing apart. 

Love you my sister from another mister(... or father... and mother... ya know, whatever!),

Meeeeeeghan. 

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Come along, Matt. I know you've had a fun day at the beach today. But if you never leave you'll never be able to come back! And if you stay here, you'll be all alone! Everyone leaves the beach at night. It get's cold and lonely. Do you want to be cold and lonely? Yes? Well, let me tell you. Cold and lonely is no fun. Plus there's a nice warm bed at home for you. There's toys and video games too! And dinner! Aren't you hungry, Matt? I'll make you a peanut-butter-lamburger! If you leave the beach right now, I'll get you a giraffe! Yes, a giraffe. A small one though. Maybe even a half goat half man. But only if you get in the car right now! Let's go! In the car! RUUUUUUUUUNNNN!!!!! I'll race ya! 

(via writeoneleaf)

Write one leaf in which you attempt to convince a child it's time to go home.

[thesummeroftwentyten-blog]

Saving us...

Looking at you my stomach transforms into one thousand butterflies all fluttering into different directions. I want to talk to you, to tell you this feeling that bursts forth from me every time you come close. Why is that when you're near me I can't speak in coherent sentences? I prepare grand speeches in my head to recite to you, that I know will make you fall instantaneously in love with me. I arrange myself in your life so that you'll notice that I'm there but not think that I'm trying too hard. Sometimes, in the imaginary conversations I have with you, I tell you that "I don't care anymore about sounding weird or following pre-conceived social conventions. I like you. I just wanted you to know..." But when I start to say my prepared words to you, you say something so witty and charming that I know my words would fail to dazzle you as you have dazzled me. I'll just try again later.

I just want to skip this part. The part where we waltz around each other in a complicated dance of supposed mystery. Why can't we just fast forward to the relationship part of this scenario? Where we are completely comfortable around one another and can be found at any time lounging in one another's home, like we live there. Where you say things that only I would understand and laugh at. We would eat all our meals together and you'd walk with me to class while on your way to your own. We'd send "good morning" and "good night" texts to each other and wish each other good luck on tests. 

After a while, you'll stop sending the texts to me in the morning. I'll start to obsess over it to my friends, while trying to play it cool with you. I act like nothings amiss, but I secretly think your loosing interest in me. We're becoming distanced now. I start to analyze every little thing you do in an attempt to prevent the inevitable. Inevitable to me and my aged cynicism that all relationships will fail eventually. I want to tell you that I'm concerned for our relationship. I want to communicate with you, but I'm too embarrassed to get the words out. 

There are new butterflies in my stomach when I see you walking towards me now. This butterflies leave me with a sense of foreboding and dread. I want to run away from you so that you can't do this to me. I turn away from you and start to talk to someone else. I can, nay I will, put this off for as long as possible. The weeks pass by of us barely talking before I get the call. You'll say we need to talk and ask to come over. I'll of course, say yes. You'll come over and we'll start out trying to talk until I pick a fight. 

Now we're screaming at each other, and I'm crying because I hate to fight. Every little fight we have ever had is now being brought up in a malicious attempt to prove something. Neither of us will have any clue what we're fighting about, but we'll both want to win so badly that we will end up slamming doors and storming away into two different directions. 

That's it. Our entire relationship will be over. So perhaps it's better if we just stay friends. I'll save us both the time and energy that it takes to be in a relationship. I'll save myself the heartbreak, and you the texting minutes.