Blog Every Day August: 8/31

I spent twelve hours at school today. Six hours of this was work. Now I lie on ye old love seat, wrapped in a blanket and letting British comedy wash over me. I ate food and now my stomach hurts.

I'm surprised I am somehow still quite alive after twelve hours of school work school ahhness. You'll never guess who came into the library today after school and hung around for way more time than I would have appreciated. It was fun. I really am trying not to care, but I just get so angry and stuff. Breathing becomes difficult and an absolute necessity.

This evening it was one of the librarians and I in the library. The head librarian/my boss left soon after school ended, and the two others around then as well, but I was left work to do and the majority of it could be done while in a seated position... which makes all the difference. I have a desk area. And wire mesh file holders and STUFF. There is also a laptop I can use, though I haven't done so yet, and I have a cabinet drawer where I can leave my bag. Things have been crazy busy, and I don't yet know how to do everything, but it is all so exciting. Nerd tendencies = score. The librarian I was with tonight is nice and doesn't make me feel nervous. Friendly. All of the staff are nice, but that nervousness is what gets to me.

But I was there for six hours on top of my school day and it was long and things. My eyes started to burn. I am allowed to take a break and eat something on long nights, though, which ought to prove a help.

Blog Every Day August has been wonderful. The fact that it is ending saddens me. Even if I continue blogging, part of the fun is sharing the experience with others, and I will miss that. So. Keep blogging, friends! I will catch up on your lovely blogs on a day when I haven't been out of the hour twelve hours ahh. Soon!

In all classes we have to write a "social contract" together, compiling words involving several questions to form a list of adjectives we should strive to embody. I will leave you with my own personal contract, scrawled on a piece of ruled paper I was "decorating" as we discussed.

1. Don't kill people.
2. Always be a ninja.
3. Glitter is always the answer.
4. Look to the rainbows!

Assorted quotes from my day also include:

Math teacher: "That's like the second largest chocolate bar I ever saw."

"Don't die in math class. If you have to go die do it in science, that's a science thing."

Male peer: "I care about my hair. I love it, it's so soft. That's what happens when you shampoo your hair twice a day, yo."

English teacher: "Interjections are [explanation], like 'Wow!' or 'Oh, peanut butter!"

I could tell you stories, interland, but I am tired and my words are not fitting together as I would like them to. I will be back, but: thank you for taking this journey with me, friends. Thank you ever so.

Blog Every Day August: 8/30

I am in a precarious good mood. Does that make sense? My mood is lifted, yet I feel like depression could slink in, yank at my coattails and toss me back down again at any moment. This is about as good as it gets.

Separating today into parts isn't working so well in my head. Bits and pieces flutter through my thoughts, unwilling to cling coherently to words. I said words to Dobbin today. We were in the same group in class (hahahahahahahahaha yes) and he said something at the end of class and then I said something and then I proclaimed myself to be a magical ninja to the teacher and left. Then he came into the library during eighth period with his class and I had to stop myself from hyperventilating madly while partitioning off laminated posters. And he keeps looking at me? I don't know.

My sister wisely told me that I might should stop thinking about him so much. I just got defensive at this suggestion. It isn't like I wake up every morning with the idea "ZOMG I get to think about DOBBIN TODAY oh yeah!!!!!" My thoughts are haywire as it is.

Irony: discussing conflict resolution/how to act in a disagreement while forced into a group with your ex-boyfriend.

Him: I'll write it down.

Me: I already wrote it down.

Him: Well never mind then.

[please insert really weird eye contact here, oh my God]

I'm a f*ding*ing ninja.

That felt appropriate for some reason.

Notable events, notable events... Teachers like me. I don't even know. Well, I do. I must reverberate "I'm a cool kid" vibes or something. Maybe I just do the work, unlike the majority population, but I find it hard to believe this could be the only reason. Surely some people do it, as well, though I do not have statistics on this. In English our teacher, One Who Is Addressed By His Initials, tried to switch a test date on us and argued that no, he hadn't set the date for Wednesday. It was always Tuesday. Yet, when I had it written out in my planner as Wednesday and he observed this, he said "okay, because Katherine is the only one I trust, I'll give you this one."

I repeat: I am a f*ding*ing ninja.

I know, internet. First I reveal to you the fact that I flip myself off in mirrors, then I throw expletives all over the place. It must be a lot to handle. It's getting me a bit hot and bothered, too, if you must know.

At work today I felt like I was doing everything wrong. The Mighty And Magical library staff seemed out of sorts to me, which led me to worry that they were mad at me or I was a failure at Life. If I don't have instruction I go straighten books on shelves and hope that if they need me they'll say something. Tomorrow I work until eight for the first time. Please Lord thank you help me.

Then I came home. Other bits happened. Then I sat here and promptly discovered this. THE BEST. It doesn't feel that simple, but it helps. I'm trying here.

Also awesome: THIS. Also this, which I frequently orchestrate dance parties to. And my lovely wonderful friend Erin. And breathing. Caffeine. Many things.

I don't want BEDA to end. I am seriously contemplating blogging more regularly after this experience. Who wants to hold me to that? I could use a keeper.

For some reason that last sentence makes me giggle.

Blog Every Day August: 8/29

It is about time that I ready myself for sleep. I sprawled on the couch with homemade pizza, a comfy blanket and a cheesy old movie for a bit, sleep a tempting fancy. Yet here I am a few moments later, writing for You. Grumble grumble. You're ruining my life.

Or something like that. That was a joke, mostly.

Now I sit here at ye old computer, yawning and racking my brain for Exciting Things to tell you. Today was another blah day. There are occurrences I could chatter about, in theory, but this would take brain power to churn out in a pleasing way. I mean, considering said happenings were not particularly sparkly or interesting.

I feel like I should tell you a story or something. The only things I can think of are pretty self-incriminating and mostly include flipping myself off in a mirror and then tripping over my own feet. True story. My counselor, upon hearing of Interesting Things on Friday: "God has a sense of humor, doesn't He?"

Yes.

Blog Every Day August: 8/28

I'm in a really bad mood right now. I can't even say why, exactly. It's Saturday. Maybe it's that I don't have any friends who I can, you know, poke in the face or something. Maybe it's that I'm feeling purposeless. Sure, I could be doing things. I could be researching colleges or studying for the SAT or freaking out about other stuff, but I can't imagine any of those things would improve my demeanor much.

Yesterday I sat alone in that senior class meeting with two empty tables beside me. No one sat near me as all the other tables in the cafeteria filled. And it just reminds me how alone I am. I'm not completely alone, no. But... how do I make friends, anyway? I have always done so in a painstakingly slow manner. No one needs me.

Haven't heard from my father since I called him on Father's Day. He pops up unexpectedly. He used to send GPS notifications that emailed me a map of where he was. This is how I learned he'd moved at one point. Why thanks. I blocked them, the notifications, eventually. They just hurt me. He's passive aggressive. Says hurtful things so they creep up on you and leave you doubting whether it has actually happened, so that you can't say anything... because they're so small or slyly pressed upon you. As a child I unknowingly set up defense mechanisms within myself. I thought that if I were perfect--well, that might fix everything. My parents never insisted I make perfect grades, yet I felt that if I didn't my world would fall apart. I saw him very rarely. He'd come home from work, watch tv in his study and emerge only for meals. I'd pop in for a moment before bed to say goodnight. This is what I saw of my father, until the very end, unless for some reason we went on a trip... which was always an excruciating experience.

I have no real 'reason' for bringing this up now. It's one of those things I contemplate when I'm upset. The last time I saw him was two days before Dobbin broke up with me. We were visiting my grandparents and my grandmother invited him, and he showed up. For some reason he didn't think my mother would be there. He left after a few hours, proclaiming the situation awkward. Way to spend time with your kids. When I'm around him, I freeze up. Every thing I've ever thought to say disappears and I'm the perfect daughter again, trying desperately not to make waves. Often I'll cry later. He'll have said something, something small but still existent and it just eats away at me. I can't defend myself. I pretend everything is fine fine fine. And next to my mother and sister, I am the only one who can talk to him coherently. So then it's my job to smooth things out, to keep the ship from sinking.

That weekend I was very upset. I told Dobbin I didn't feel safe, and he told me that I was safe with him. How can you do that to a person? How can you tell someone in utter turmoil things like this, then smash them to pieces forty eight hours later? I still want answers. And I talk about this a lot, with increasing frequency this week due to sightings, but it still hurts. I feel silly, going on and on about it. I do.

Am I supposed to forgive? Is that the answer here? Because it doesn't feel like it to me. I feel taken advantage of in both of these situations, though with my father it has always been of issue. With Dobbin, it took me completely by surprise. My mother wasn't too wary of him, either. There was always that skepticism, yes, but I am often skeptical. And maybe it's not supposed to be a big deal. But it's a process, or some such utterance. I can only keep going, and sometimes I have to feel really sorry for myself and sleep a lot. Is this right? Who knows. I still have hope. Dobbin isn't the huge issue, really, but my father. My father's the one I may always have to deal with, or try to a certain extent. But Dobbin looms closer right now. Dobbin I chose to let into my life, at least to the point that I felt comfortable with, and then... there was no logic. I still want logic.

Which is an overarching problem in my life, I suppose.

I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay.

Blog Every Day August: 8/27

Why do I think about Dobbin so much? He is hardly worth this effort.

The last time I

wore this skirt

it was for him

and I remember that night

in fuzzy picture memories

romanticized twilight

and standing up against a railing

and taking your hand

and holding it there

and you were lost in other things,

as I told you where the quotes the proud graduates

read aloud

were from

and the breeze, and

the world dimming

turning my head away

as you looked at me,

fussing with my

skirt against the wind

Your curved smile

and your words,

you wanted to cry

as your friends went out into the world

and somehow I knew

this would be

what I

remembered.

Silly teenage girl poetry? Why yes. Stream of consciousness, straight from my teenage girl journal. I promise I don't usually write like this. This blog should be some proof, hopefully. I was sitting in our senior class meeting and feeling pessimistic. Nine months from tomorrow, we graduate. What? This place leaves me feeling alienated and alone, often. I am not excited about graduating. It isn't the shiny beautiful present for me that it is for so many. I haven't grown up with these people, and most of them want nothing to do with me.

I am optimistic, mostly, but these are truths as I see them. And as much as I hate that I think about Dobbin so much, it is what it is. Maybe it was two months ago. Maybe he was just some boy, not worth my time. But... something. And now I have to see him every day and it makes me angry that he is now in my bubble, in my life even in this peripheral way. Because I felt like periphery around him most of the time. And I still want to find logic in all of this. I still do.

In Psychology today I had the urge to burst out laughing as the teacher spoke. "This class," he said, "can act as a safe haven for you, where you can come and not be scared over what people might say. Say someone is a jerk to you, and they are in this class. You really don't want to be around them. They're a jerk to you, but you're nice to them anyway. It's like they say: fake it til you make it." Or some such blatherings. The teacher seems like a nice enough guy, honestly, but this discussion left me muttering to myself in hysterics. Things to come: group work! Oh, goody.

On Fridays staff/teachers are allowed to wear jeans with a school t-shirt, but I don't own such a shirt yet... unfortunately enough. I wore a cute skirt instead and my "boss" (I guess? The head librarian, who is really really cool and nice) said I looked "very nice" today. It made me happy. Dressing up is proving fun.

ALSO: I love the library. True facts. I hope the feeling lasts. So much fun. Yesterday I was formatting a table to check off the magazines we've received each month and it was supremely exciting to me. Problem solving! How can I format this so it doesn't explode? It's like playtime for Katherine! It's still kind of scary, working, but they're so nice and libraries and librarians are awesome.

You know who I also love? Teachers. Teachers are the best. I get tingly thinking about it.

And stuff.

Later: My awkwardness is so beautiful. Sigh.

Blog Every Day August: 8/26

Irony is beautiful. At this point it's either laugh or cry, as many things in my life come to. Today my schedule change was confirmed, moving my work periods to seventh and eighth and exchanging eighth period Animation with fourth period Psychology. I was relieved to find that I still have A Lunch, meaning I can still eat lunch with my sister. Otherwise I would have no one to sit with. These are just facts.

Following lunch today, I entered Psychology class for the first time and found a seat. And a few minutes later, Dobbin entered as well. I almost wasn't surprised. Terrible irony follows me. Then, of course, we were all asked to stand at the front of the class and speak about ourselves for sixty seconds. He was sitting front and center. Best sixty seconds of my life. Obviously. I read from my notes and shook a lot. I refuse to look at or acknowledge him in any way. Obsessive notes: the two times I've spoken and clapping has been expected, he has clapped. The three times he's spoken and clapping has been expected, I have not clapped. I have looked the other way or acted as if he didn't exist. This is my approach in general. Or I'm trying. Whether this is the right approach is something I'm unsure of. Is there even a right way? I'm so confused.

This stuff is so hard. It isn't like I really want to look at him. But my bubble regarding him is being seriously invaded. And of course, all I want to do is scream at him. But it's over. It's over. This has been over for longer than it existed, but in my defense: I sat next to the guy for almost eight months before this happened. Also just because. It makes me angry that I have to be mature about this, that I can't yell or give him the finger or something. But I don't do stuff like that. I am somewhat irrational in thought, rational in action, and it drives me crazy.

I wish I could yell. I wish it were allowed. But I'm the bigger person or something.

One cool thing, though: many of my peers said they considered themselves nerds when they spoke.

Tomorrow I leave work early for my appointment with my counselor. Need to work out better times. Work is good. I think. I'm enjoying it, though it's kind of scary. Friday is also the day staff/teachers are allowed to wear jeans, but only with a "spirit shirt," and I don't own one yet. Oh well. Next week, maybe. "Fancy" clothes are kind of fun, if a bit uncomfortable sometimes.

I do not understand math, and we're still on review. It is scary. My Economics teacher makes it seem interesting. I have to read a boring thing for AP English by Wednesday. Supposedly we're destined to fail but he's grading on the bell curve to show us how it works... so maybe I won't fail? I hope not. Teachers are really nice to me. Work chitchat is weird in that it's a bit fake, but somehow uplifting. By saying "I'm good thank you, how are you?" I can sort of trick myself into believing it. And often I am good. Anyway. It's distracting, in a good way. So far. Watched a cheesy video in Physics. We gained a student in Career Prep who I've always found really nice; she was in my English class last year and is in there this year, as well.

That felt like a really weird paragraph.

And I need to do other things ahhhh SAT standardized tests college other stuff. I feel like I have to make the subjects taboo for the moment, or else drive myself up the wall. Taking things one thing at a time is difficult for me.

Blog Every Day August: 8/25

Day three of school complete. This blog has been a bit of a fail recently. You probably love me anyway. For which, you know, I'm grateful. Let's see what my scattered thoughts have to offer you this evening.

Drawing a blank.

Our classes are forty-five minutes long. There are eight of them, with an advisory between first and second periods and two lunch periods dependent on one's fourth period class. School begins at 7:50 and ends at 3:45. My alertness kicks in around 1 pm. It's pretty beautiful. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I work in the library until 4:30. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I work until 8:00. I also work two class periods; at the moment fourth and seventh, but it's set to change to seventh and eighth. I feel as if I might curse it by saying this, being that today was only day three, but I'm loving the library so far. They're so nice! And I do cool stuff!

As I say, my schedule is set to be fixed. They put me in Animation, where ye old Dobbin is also, when I was supposed to be in Psychology. The Career Prep teacher/coordinator worked magic and it is supposed to be changed. With magic. My only worry now is what lunch period I will have, as it could very well change when my schedule does. There are pros and cons to A Lunch, which I've been going to so far. The pro is that my sister has this lunch. The con is that Dobbin does also. But whatever. He can go die. I don't know. He has become a bigger issue since his existence is now regularly crossing mine. Being mature sucks. WHY CAN I NOT YELL AT YOU? Deep breaths. I'm okay. This too shall pass. Maybe.

First period I have Career Prep. So far we have a walloping four students in there. Two of us have jobs, the other two are looking. Taking Career Prep/Work Co-Op allows you to have work periods, also, and gain credits for that time. Pretty cool. I like that it's first period. I also like that there are so few of us, though that will probably change soon enough. Apparently the teacher's fourth period has thirty students in it. Eek?

Advisory. I'm supposed to turn in forms. The thing is, one of the forms confirms I've received a Student Handbook. But I never received one, so I can hardly confirm this, can I? Also forms are annoying and I'm putting it off. The teacher of this advisory is a Spanish teacher. Fun fact: I have my (required) two language credits in Italian. They (surprise, surprise!) don't have Italian here, so I can't get a third language credit so I look awesome. Oh well. Also notable is the fact that the only Italian I have managed to retain is the ability to ask for ice-cream. It's useful.

Second period, Physics. A mixture of Juniors and Seniors. New (to the school, at least) teacher, seems nice enough. He's kind of... attractive. Not in a way that I would ever actually be attracted to him, but he's nice looking. A red head. Um. There is another male teacher on the same hall, however, that is quite attractive. Not relevant. Anyway. At the moment we're doing lab safety. Oh! And yesterday we learned about one another by writing down and reading aloud facts about ourselves. I counted four girls in a row listing their favorite book as Twilight. It made my heart sad.

Third period, Pre-Cal. Math and I are not friends. Sure, I have always passed. Sure, my worst report card grade was a (traumatizing) C+ in fourth grade. I like it when I understand it, but this is rare. As I took Algebra II in a hasty computer course last semester, I am worried. The teacher is pretty goofy, but he knows it. And owns it. I don't know what students think of him, but I can tell you that he would be easy to taunt were his attitude different. So that's cool. Still worried about math, though. Gosh. Math is SCARY.

Lunch. Sit with sister/ignore Dobbin and attempt not to hyperventilate as he passes by. Maybe I'm anal, but I keep thinking he's staring at me. So. hard. not. to. yell. and. ack. go. away. Lunch is boring, honestly. I'd rather be in the library, but it seems a little weird considering I work there now. We'll see.

Fourth, work at the moment. Set to change to Psychology.

Fifth, AP English. The same teacher I had last year. He's middle-aged but has been teaching for so long here that he is now teaching the granddaughter of one of his students. He's cool in a weird way. Difficult to explain. He's a bit of a legend and is addressed as his initials. Also notable, I wrote an essay last year on which he wrote: "reads like a good blog." I wasn't sure what to make of this.

Sixth, Economics. I really like the teacher. My descriptions are failing me now, but he makes the subject seem interesting. Maybe I'll retract that last statement, but his personality is cool and something. It seems like one of those deals where I'll be the only student to say anything, but we'll see. Dobbin's brother is in this class. I know very little of the guy, yes, but it's tempting to say uncharitable things about him anyway. I guess I won't, but my perception of him isn't good. Would it be completely inappropriate to say that he's more attractive than Dobbin? That's really mean of me. Maybe it's a defense mechanism. But, as for something possibly relevant, when Dobbin and I first "got together" I spoke to his (then) girlfriend and our conversation went something like this: Her: "Yeah, I know I'm dating [dude] and everything, but I never know what's going on." Me: "I wonder if it runs in the family."

Seventh, work. Should stay that way. Eighth, Animation at the moment, should change to a work period also. If anything, this will eliminate constantly clocking in and out. Probably other things.

I can't decide whether this blog post has been a fail or not. Um. See you tomorrow.

Blog Every Day August: 8/24

Today was a day. Second day of school and work. Work is going well, I think. School is school. The teacher who runs the work co-op program is helping me get my schedule fixed; if all goes as it should I will no longer be in a class with Dobbin, as I wasn't meant to be in the class in question in the first place. Thank goodness. Unless he's in Psychology, as well... in which case the irony will be a sight to behold.

I'm tired. Big day, and I haven't even been given homework yet. Fellow humans were yelling earlier and ahh. But the library is so fun. A few of my peers have been friendly to me. Actively ignoring Dobbin is a pain. I get all shaky and probably appear angry or something, though my attempt is to be stone cold. He is dead to me. Though, you know, not quite exactly in my head yet. Deep breaths, keep moving. Still very behind on the BEDAs of my buddies. Tired. Love you and things.

Blog Every Day August: 8/23

Today was the first day of school. I just woke up after conking out for several hours this evening. I am severely addled. This is bound to go well. I started work, which went pretty well I think despite the fact that now I'm second-guessing whether I got my hours right. Oh dear. If I got them wrong they'd tell me, right? I hope? I don't know. I learned how to laminate. And I laminated.

And oh yeah, remember Dobbin? The dashing creature who led me on, lied to me and then broke up with me via text message? He didn't switch schools. His presence is existent. OH AND I'M IN A CLASS WITH HIM THIS IS JUST GREAT. I wasn't even supposed to be in this class but my schedule wasn't entered right. Total freeze out is being employed, but... gosh. I don't want to deal with this. Until today I hadn't seen him in almost three months. But now he's all around me and I don't know what to do when all I can do is ignore him with fire and ninjas. I refused to look at or acknowledge him.

But... he hurt me. He took my trust, already threadbare, and used it as a rug. I want to yell or scream or say something or be clever or something, but I cannot. I get to be the girl he mutters to his friends about as I walk into class, flat tones of "that's my ex." I get to be the one who gets strange looks from those in his group of friends I became acquainted with. I get to completely ignore him as he throws me questioning glances. And I can't say anything. This is supposed to be over, but it isn't for me. It isn't suddenly okay that this worm got me to trust him, told me I was his "best friend," "the best thing that ever happened" to him and that "every part of Katherine Hardman is lovable and loved by" him and other such stupidity, and then broke up with me in a text message. None of this is okay. But even in light of my ignoring him completely and my words to him previously, he gets to think he got away with it. He charms people, and I can't help but entertain the idea that he might approach me eventually. He's certainly stupid enough to think that this would be a good idea.

Also he said hello to my sister twice today. Get out of my world, dude. She doesn't want to talk to you.

Other stuff. Why can't this be over? It's hard to believe it will ever feel over.

Blog Every Day August: 8/22

In glorious fashion, I just finished reading my required summer reading. The night before school starts. In my defense, we weren't given notice of this reading until several months of summer had gone by, but this might have happened anyway. Frankenstein. Well written, definitely, and engrossing... but I still couldn't get into it. It was interesting, yet it somehow bored me. My attempt to read one hundred books this year is not going swimmingly.

My thoughts are going fuzzy and I need to ready my belongings for tomorrow. I just wrote the world's worst email to my sister (at heart) and I feel bad about it. At this particular moment I feel rather a lot like The World's Biggest Fail. Which I know I'm not. But school is scary and I have things to worry about and ahhh. I am also vastly behind on my BEDA buddies' blogs, which I do intend to rectify eventually. I have no clue what my schedule is going to be like regarding work. Well, I have a vague idea. But at this point my thoughts are going: "you can't work! You're an idiot! You're horrible with people! They'll hate you! You'll die! You'll screw up!"

Which I suppose isn't true. But that's my head for you. Love you bunches, all.

Blog Every Day August: 8/21

I again blog to you from the grand land that is our extra room, AKA VoldeTread's home. He has been ignored for many days now. If you never hear from me again it is probably because he has Avada Kedavra'd me. Just so you know. Also for the second time I am sprawled over two plastic chairs while my mother works extra fantastic magic on my work clothes.

Before we go any further, I feel it appropriate to mention that I was FORBIDDEN (-coughencouragedcough-) to direct you towards this photo of my Facebook wife's bra. Um. I am heterosexual. But our love IS REAL. Or something. This was her idea.

Today my mom, sister and I went into San Antonio. To get anything done, one must do this. We live in tiny town Texas. So. First we stopped at the military base to see about extending the warranty on my laptop, which we purchased there almost two years ago. They told us to call a number. Which will probably happen in the near future. Following this, we went to an awesome resale shop we have been to before. I dislike shopping. In fact, it usually makes me nauseated. But at this point my clothing situation is mostly sorted out, so looking wasn't as gruesome. I got a cute top and skirt. Also, my sister insisted on purchasing a ring I admired there for me. Because she is way too nice to me. It is gorgeous and ahh.

Now I am talking to my wife on the phone. The phone is resting on my stuffed hedgehog, Hermione, as my spouse relates to me a conversation she had with a friend composed completely of different intonations of the word "dude." Officially distracted. Oh, and I am no longer in the land of the extra room. Magic! Following our venture into the resale shop and another quite exciting store, we ate food. Food is nice. Then we came home! I spent time with Frankenstein, my required summer reading, and almost fell asleep at chapter nineteen. Then came Time Of Alterations. And this phone call.

Tomorrow, Sunday School. Monday, school. School. Work. School.

Blog Every Day August: 8/20

I am antsy to write something. Write anything. Well, not just anything. Things pertaining to today. The thing is, I feel like it will all sound very wrong and judgmental, and I'm not quite sure how to go about it. But here we are.

Earlier this week I got a call from the teacher/coordinator/what-have-you of the Work Co-Op in which several pieces of information were passed along to me, one being the knowledge of a job training with the other student workers in her room this afternoon. So I went. Well, things happened first. My sister, mom and I walked around the school for a little bit to help orient my sister to the school. She'll be a freshman this year. Eep.

All the rooms have been moved around, but we found our first classes and I attempted to explain some things. Many of the teachers were out and about doing things, so we met several of my past teachers along the way. It made me feel so cool, because they all seemed excited to see me. Me! Gosh, it was so cool. Okay, I'm babbling. I waved to my World History teacher, who was busy, and then we came across the Aid who helped me through Algebra II in the computer lab (hallelujah!). Next we spoke to my Biology teacher, who is really really nice and I like her, and then my Geometry teacher. Lastly I said hello to my Geography teacher. Please note that I've only been here one year. I was pleased as punch.

But I've never been one to get along with students. Which is about as good a transition as any, I suppose, to the training itself. I arrived about seven minutes early, greeted the teacher, and sat down at a table with a few other student workers. The layout of the room is pretty wonky, with two full tables and a hodgepodge of desks and computers at both sides. My attempts to initiate light--ANY--conversation were deflected.

This is where I get upset, guys. Communication is so hard for me. Making friends is so hard for me. But I try. The mentality here is "if we don't know you, we don't need to know you, and will therefore ignore you because we are just that much more awesome." They have their own friends. They don't want you. You don't belong. There is this wall that I cannot penetrate because I don't belong, leaving me alone and friendly with only teachers. No one wants me, and guess what? I have a lot to offer as a friend. It may be "their loss," but it still really hurts. And so I remain silent and read in any space of downtime and have no connections, because no one gives me a chance. Maybe, if I salivated all over my peers, 'they' might deem me their 'friend.' But here we get to another point: as a result of these attitudes, I don't want to be friends with them. Also other things, like a lack of common interests or general respect, but I feel like a lot of it stems from this high and mighty attitude. I don't know you. I have my own friends. I am going to snub you. This may or may not be in their plane of awareness, but I feel it, and I have trouble believing I'm totally wrong. I am not alone in this feeling. It isn't just us feeling this, and it is everywhere here. There may even be niceties exchanged, but that air is always there. I don't know you. I have my own crowd, I have lived here for seven jillion years, you cannot join my club. I am going to snub you. Maybe it isn't a conscious decision. Maybe not. But it hurts all the same.

This training reminded me of those feelings. No one would engage with me, even for a few seconds. I am different. They don't know me. I am not their friend. Therefore, we cannot be associated with one another. It isn't as if I've just come off the street! I am cordial. I try, if that counts for anything somewhere. But at some point I draw into myself and can't try anymore, because no one I come across cares to converse with me ever. The one 'friend' I did have last year... well. Every day, for the whole year, I heard her problems and offered whatever advice or sympathy I could. I didn't mind this. I really didn't. But when I went through my own emotional turmoil, my great upset with Dobbin, her response was basically "get over it." Let me say again: I didn't mind helping her, in the way I could. But it hurt. It hurt a lot that her problems were okay to stress over and mine was cause for "getting over" it.

Which really makes me fear for humanity. I do believe there are good people out there. There may even be good people at this school, who I haven't discovered yet. And I don't mean to say that the generalities I speak of here account for everyone, or even that the mentality I perceive makes them horrible people. But when I try so hard and give all that I can only to hit this seemingly brick wall... it hurts. And what do you do? I am very lucky to have this job opportunity. I am grateful for this, and super excited (also: panicked) to learn new things and have this opportunity and things. My school counselor was very helpful with working out my credits, and I am grateful for this. There are good things happening, yes. But the overwhelming audience I get from my peers has for so long been an arrogant I don't know you. You are not my friend. Therefore, I will not speak or talk to you. Perhaps if I'm friendly enough, if I work hard enough, I will find someone who I can be friends with. But here in tiny town Texas, I begin to feel like a different species entirely.

I have deleted the rest of this blog post. Confidentiality and some such, but the gist of it is that it left a very bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I am overreacting over the demeanors of my peers at the training. Maybe I'm just sick of it, of these town-related politics and attitudes. I think it may get better once I start working and it isn't about our actions as a whole, but my own. I know I will work hard and do my best to exceed expectations, no matter how much inner confusion/turmoil this causes me. Everyone else... well. I wish I didn't feel this way about so many people. I don't want to judge them harshly, but I guess I do. Past experience has not been kind to me. Maybe when school starts everyone will magically be warm and welcoming. I would love to be able to retract all these feelings in favor of a brighter landscape. But... really. Senior year. You think they haven't all known one another since their tooth fairy days?

Blog Every Day August: 8/19

I come to you sprawled across two plastic chairs in our extra room as my mother works magic on my clothing. The room is well-lighted, but dreary, due to wood paneling that some loving soul installed in the seventies. The linoleum is pretending to be wood, as well, but I'm not believing it. This room is also home to our good pal VoldeTread, who sulks in the corner as I blatantly ignore him. Suck it, Volde, I'm busy.

You see, fellow fantastic friends of light and gorgeousness, I already wrote this blog post. I painstakingly entered it into my phone, sitting in this exact spot, as I provided moral support to the wonderful magical person who is fixing my clothes for me. However, as I attempted to save it, the draft self destructed. Thus, with much gesticulation and ranting about the perils I would inflict upon the sadistic Ava (my phone, in case you weren't aware. You wouldn't, as I have never before revealed this name to anyone but the tinny little voice inside my head), I am writing it again on my laptop (who doesn't have a name, somehow, though Herman feels good to me at the moment). Woe is me.

This afternoon my mother and I ventured out to complete several fun and exciting Tasks. First we visited a bank to inquire about opening an account so the lovely school district can pay me money. Acquiring useful information and deciding to open said account... then came the questions. Do you have a Texas ID? No, I have a military ID, would that be okay? Let me check with my supervisor, do you have your social security card? Yes, yes I do, here you are. Do you have a bill as proof of residence? No, no I do not, as I am seventeen years old. Oh okay let me speak with my supervisor, oh is it okay if I rip your social security card along the perforations oops I already ripped half of it. No. No, it is not okay. Thanks so much. And then came the supervisor, who was really very nice, and she helped us and told us things and do you have proof of residence? No, no I do not have a bill, would my learner's permit be acceptable? Well let's see, why doesn't it have a picture on it? They didn't take my picture. I do not know. Oh okay, well this looks fine but our machines aren't all working so you may have to come back later for some of the papers. Okay. That's fine. Paperwork paperwork paperwork thank you very much, we will call you when the machine works again.

And off we went to the personnel office! Hello, I am awesome. Can you help me? Sure! Let's go into this room and fill in exciting paperwork. Do you have a Texas ID? No, I have a military ID, would that be acceptable? I'll have to call someone about that, do you have your social security card? Yes, here it is, could you please not tear it? Oh okay, let me call this person, could you fill this page out? Sure. Hello again, oops I'm so sorry I tore your social security card just now right in front of you. Oh, um. No big deal. I've only had it for seventeen years. Paperwork! This is standard magic, sign here and here do this. Sure fine. Okay, let's make your ID! Yay fun! Here you go, please get your bank to sign this because otherwise you might be a liar and we can't give you money. Thank you, see you soon, love and kisses!

Back to the bank! Hello, could you sign this please? Sure, I will get my supervisor, just a minute. Okay, fine. Hello, sure I will sign it, could you sign here? And oh! Our machine gave us your magic papers just now, here you are, how lucky. Thank you!

To personnel! Here is the paper! Is that all? Yes, that's all, thanks a lot. Bye! Thank you again! Undertones: you ripped my social security card. Boo hiss, tears, pain. I wish to avenge you.

I think you'll find I may have added a pinch of extra beauty to these conversations. It was there. In the Tones. In the air. In the 101 degree weather. You can trust in me, for I am Pancake Ninja Sparkle Cape Girl Who Carries Around A Fire Extinguisher! Also Katherine: somewhat over the normal level of epicness. I have the best names.

To the car! Grocery shopping is exciting! Mom: don't let me lallygag, okay? Me: Okay. Ten minutes pass as we forage for Important Items. Mom: I'm going to lallygag. Me: Mom. Mom: Sorry. Me: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Mom: No, I told you to tell me. Me: But... I'm the worst person to request this of. And so we looked at very exciting things like Jalapeño chip dip and Fritos and had a grand old time picking up dog food. These things are unrelated. They were the first things to come to mind from the trip.

Returning home, I besieged my mother with such a fit of nervous babbling that she told me I should go lie down. I am very easily pushed into a broiling pot of panic. Of late I am realizing that sometimes I just really need to go hide under my covers and rest for a while. Sometimes this is the only thing that helps, as writing only stimulates more thought, which isn't always what will make me feel better. This evening a few other things have occurred, some of which aren't particularly relevant and others being thoughts that could consume entire blog posts of themselves. The topic I'm considering right now could be very easily misinterpreted or come off wrong, so whether I work up the guts to compose it is questionable, but there you are.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Training with the other student workers and the Co-Op teacher tomorrow afternoon. School on Monday, still with things to complete (Frankenstein, which I'm halfway through, and other bits that are probably unnecessary but I drive myself to pieces with anyway). It will be okay. It will be okay. It will be okay. Mantra, other things, stuff.

Blog Every Day August: 8/18

I worry. I worry without meaning to, without fulling thinking it through, often about the problems of others. This is especially prevalent in my home life. If my mother is upset, I am upset. If anyone is upset, I am upset. And it isn't only that it affects my mood; I also feel that must fix whatever may be wrong, control the situation myself. But the thing is, I have never been able to do this. I have the mindset that this is crucial, yet it is an impossibility but for a very minute number of instances. It isn't much fun, and I am host to a number of other failed perceptions, but there you are for today.

My hope was that the magic blogging fairy would show up by this time in the evening. However, no such beast has appeared. I haven't yet been able to set up a bank account or make it to Personnel to set up magical things, so I've been in a bit of a panic state. It's amazing how low my panic levels have been today, however, considering. SCHOOL. So soon so soon so soon what will I do? I spend a lot of time waiting for my mom to come home. I miss her when she isn't, but she has important things to do and things.

This evening I managed to let myself tumble into yet another pit of despair. But then my lovely Facebook wife, whom I mentioned yesterday, called me on the phone and we had to Plot Things and I'm a bit brighter than I was. We are hilarious and beautiful. As I chatted I doodled this. I figured it was worth a try.

Nothing else is particularly notable. I go up and down, as I say. My hope is that there will be eventual improvement once school gets into gear, once I have more structure. Who knows. I hope so.

Blog Every Day August: 8/17

Quickly, before my mood deflates! I hate to even say it, for fear the feeling will then implode, but today was a pretty good day. I woke up at about ten, showered and then visited with my mom in our extra room (VoldeTread's home) as she continued with alterations on my work clothes. She pinned most of them a few days ago, and is now on to fitting and sewing and generally being magical. I sat in there as she worked, knitted and chatted with my fantastic Facebook wife, Annie, via text message. We are so weird; it's a lot of fun. I ended up ripping out my work so far and starting again with my knitting project, as I don't have enough yarn to make what I first intended to. It will still be a scarf, just narrower. Fun! My mom taught me to knit when I was about ten, and while I have never completed a large project (I made my grandma a potholder once), I still think it's a lot of fun. At around two we dashed off to my appointment with my counselor. The schedule is weird for various reasons, so it had only been a few days, but this isn't really a problem. It went well. This process is helping me so much. I'm grateful. My head is a mess, but I can see progress I'm making, and it gives me hope.

This accomplished, we headed out, stopping on a whim at a nondescript restaurant nearby. It was pretty good. Maybe I mention food a lot here. It just feels notable, considering my shaky rapport with it in recent months. The waitress was really nice and it was cool and things. Then, with traffic evil and plotting our demise, we rushed over to a magic cosmetic land so a member of my brethren could inquire about something. As this was occurring I was lured into the clutches of a gorgeous bag, which I could use for school things (useful! purpose! excuse!), and the teacher of the Work Co-Op called me. Perching on a makeup stool and scribbling on an index card I have already used for two lists, I frantically took down information and breathed a huge sigh of relief. I've been waiting to hear from her since late June, but (as is logical) she was on vacation. Now I have tasks! I need to go to Personnel to set things up and attend a training (with other students working for the school district) on Friday with the teacher of the Work Co-Op. Also necessary would be to set up a bank account. You know, so they can pay me money. That's kind of a nice part. Now that I have things to do, and more certainty of moving forward, I feel much better. Still panicked, but better. Answers.

And I have a bag for my school stuff! It's so cute! My usual backpack is perfectly fine and keeping up well for its three years of use (my mom fixed it, even), but this one is so fun and cheerful. Sometimes cheerfulness is a nice pick-me-up. My old backpack is still very useful; I take it on trips and it has a laptop compartment, as well. But! It's so nice to have something new.

This is about all that's fit to report for the moment. I'm behind on my fellow BEDA buddies' blogs at this particular juncture, but I promise to catch up! See you then.

Blog Every Day August: 8/16

Okay, so what happened yesterday? I woke up, and we attempted to go to Sunday School in San Antonio, but our air tire pressure needed pressuring (I am so knowledgeable in the field of car studies) and the machine at the gas station was broken. So there went that, with forty five minutes eaten up by that journey. We went into San Antonio anyway, first visiting a Half Price Bookstore and then venturing to eat food. Following this we went to a/the museum we have a membership with and looked around for a while. Then we went home. This could be expressed much better, but I continue to have a lack of patience in my personal explanations. It was a good day, for the most part, but my befuddled thoughts (and, as I say, lack of patience) kept me from filling you in on this.

I'm attempting to keep busy. The magnetic board project a few days back is one such example of this. Today I sharpened all the pencils I could find while watching episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show, then removed everything from the bookcase in my bedroom and dusted. I've also been doing laundry (not my own this time, but the laundry of my fellow humans). My mood has been bouncing from one place to the other at a disjointed and unpredictable pace. I need things to do that don't have to do with the things I need to do. Maybe the window is small. My mom is also becoming increasingly aware of stuff I need to do re: college applications and keeps giving suggestions and ideas, but despite her good intentions I really cannot focus on that right now. If I think at all about stressful things I am launched into a pit of other stressful thoughts, and it is not a circle I want to actively participate in. Sure, I need to do stuff. I will do stuff. But not right now. The waiting, without answers, is not a happy place to be in.

It will be okay. I do believe it will be okay. I do I do I do. Somehow. But it's really stressful for me at the moment, to even consider considering. So. Is there anything I can do for you, readers? I am seeking out busy work. Would you be interested in letters? I could write you letters and, you know, mail them. I promise I'm not a stalker. It's up to you; that was just my first thought. I would love to write you letters, personally. I can't promise coherence, but I have very nice handwriting, so it would at least be something to gaze at. We could be intra-internet-snail-mail-pen-pals! Or something. This is obviously the best paragraph I have ever written.

I rediscovered a knitting project I started years ago just now. I'm not sure if I have enough yarn left to finish it into anything, but hey: busy work! I will be okay, despite all of the goings on in my head and in the "real world." But I'm going to go knit or find something else to do at the moment, as thinking is just sort of dangerous right now. I apologize for the lackluster quality of my blogs of late.

Blog Every Day August: Bonus

I am lying in bed with my laptop. This is a rarity, for certain. My phone comes to bed with me often, a constant distraction as I attempt either rest or sleep, but taking my laptop to bed means serious business. This only happens when I’m feeling ill for extended periods of time and/or, I’m realizing, at the very end of my rope. So, in a way, the urge to bring my laptop with me to bed is a good indicator for me. It should be a red flag.

I have an album of lullabies playing at the moment. It isn’t in English, but various languages, which I am finding to be a good thing. My focus is stretched in so many directions as it is, and I realize that rather defies the idea of “focus,” but I feel it to be an apt idea in my regard.

My last blog was posted merely an hour ago. That pressure to finish something, to make something whole and ready for the world, was too much for that moment. I do still feel the need to write, though, and so I find myself in this symbolic position at nearly midnight. Writing does help me, but it does bring forth more thought, and even thought procured in this way can be something I want—need—to veer away from at times.

My thoughts are in a room, all shapes and sorts and colors. Some are loud. Some are quiet, whispering eerily. Others miserably fold themselves into pretzels and sink into corners. A few stand straight up and gesticulate rudely, menacing and ready for a fight. A few, a very small fraction, smile shyly in my direction as they pass through the room. “Just saying hi,” one will say shakily, with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be back later. I’m just checking in.” And then they leave, quietly shutting the door behind them.

I am stuck in this room. Or I am the room, or something, and writing helps me pull one thought from the crowd and focus more clearly on it. It will make its case, tousling its hair and stammering a bit at this newfangled attention, and insight will often be found. But as with so many things, this is a double-edged sword. Let’s call the thought Fred. Fred will tell me his story. Fred has blue hair and chapped lips. His eyes are bloodshot and he is just so so worried, so starved for attention with no solution in sight. And I want to fix Fred. I want to make his life better. But Clarisse sits dejectedly in the corner and Adolf is giving me the finger and the other thoughts begin to creep up on me again. I can’t just ignore them. They all need my help. I have to fix them all at once. I must be the epitome of perfection and answer all of their desperate, shallowly breathed questions. I can’t just pay attention to Fred when they’re all waiting for me, I can’t, but as I am drawn away his lip quivers and he bursts into tears. Then they all do. They throw stuff at me and call me names. “Fix this,” they say. “FIX THIS NOW.”

Recently, after yet another exciting visit with VoldeTread, I found myself sitting on the floor of our extra room with a box of photos. The sets were separated in their paper packets, some inscribed on the front in pencil by my mother with dates and events, jumbled in the plastic container. This is what I love about film, flipping through memories later. A tangible reminder. My age in the photos ranged from two to twelve, and as I located myself in all of these different locales and places in life, I began to think. Hardly surprising, but it wasn’t the painful sort of thinking I have before lamented. We—I—looked so happy in these photographs. My dad looked so normal and glad to be around us. Were we? Was it all just an act, a call-and-response to the cameraperson’s efforts for a good picture? I look at my life and find new things, new ideas I find to be true, and suddenly the bricks that compose my life are scrambling to find a different order. They crumble, or come close to it, perceptions I took for granted and admired suddenly a gaping hole. So I looked for landmarks in the photos, managed to find one freckle I still possess. It helped, somehow, but so much has changed. My life is constantly changing. I change. People change. People leave. People come into your life with so much [expletive] hope and leave you broken.

My lovely friend Erin has directed me here from time to time, and it rings such truth, but it is with a poignancy that I admit it. I want to find hope in this. I do. But still, there is that sadness in knowing that things cannot retain constancy. I look for this quality, desperately want for it, and it so eludes me.

This lullaby time has been good for me. Now I’m attempting to sing along. It isn’t quite working, as I still haven’t the first clue as to what languages the songs are in.

These words have been formed in the in-between of days. Call it a bonus, if you will, as I still do intend to blog tomorrow (today, to be technical about it). Somehow blogging fills a niche that journaling isn’t always able to. Something about the fact that you care enough to parse through my words. Something about the fact that my words are out there, wherever there is, attainable to others. Even just the fact that they exist.

But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

- Dinah Craik -

Blog Every Day August: 8/15

It's that time of night again. I sit here in my marvelous spinny chair, criss cross apple sauce, eyes bleary and brain attempting entertainment. Today was a big day, but I again find myself impatient in pressing the details here. I woke up and things.

Now. I pride myself in my inherent wit and charm regarding this blog. Or something. But as I attempt to focus on any one thing tonight, it just doesn't work. My thoughts run me ragged. Today has been another installment of school school school work ahhhhhhhhh college volunteer work applications what am I going to do I will fail I will fail I can't do this I have no certainty and no answers help I can't do this. Really, it was a good day. Good things happened, truly. I had fun and did cool things. To align these things in a cohesive manner feels beyond me at the moment, though.

I don't want to worry about this. I want to take all of this one thing at a time and skillfully weave my pieces "back" together. But I can't. My thoughts are scattered and tangled, yes, but also a constant rushing I feel I cannot control. And all of these things coming to the surface, these perceptions I am coming to realize have always existed for me without my knowledge... it is like trying to rewrite my whole history within my mind. My mind is already full and cramped, thoughts poking me in all the wrong places, and it seems as if it is just one thing after another.

Maybe tomorrow won't be better. I'm bound to be a bit off for a while, especially with school looming so close and imponderables popping up at every corner. I do still have hope, and I still do wish to tell you of today's fun events. Tomorrow. Soon. Each and every one of you is wonderful, and I am grateful for your encouraging presences (and friendships) as I stumble and stutter and attempt. Such is life... and stuff.

Blog Every Day August: 8/14

It has been ten minutes since I opened this tab to draft today's (utterly fantastic and sparkling) blog. Since then I have been sidetracked multiple times, culminating in the thought that "oh, I could sharpen my shiny new pencils. Then I realized: I must get Down To Business. This is unlikely to happen. My pencils are blue and "antimicrobial" and, following a tragedy involving my prized pencil sharpener from the British Museum and a highly destructive dog, I am again in the possession of a pencil sharpener with which to sharpen them. Oh, the possibilities.

This afternoon my kinfolk and I went out to lunch. We do this every Saturday, at the same hole-in-the-wall place we've frequented since we moved here two years ago. They're really nice and they have our orders memorized and it's just really cool and things. Today they were all in especially good moods, as the restaurant is going to close for a week so the owner can visit her family and give her son a last hurrah before school starts. Yes. School starts a week from Monday. Is it panic time yet? IS IT? Anyway, as a result of this regular occurrence my stomach decided to defy me. My stomach could really use a good talking to. Things are peachy for the moment, though.

My evening was spent staging the placement of stuff on a magnetic board thing I have, reading Frankenstein and standing really really ahhh still as my mom pinned clothes to alter for me.

Generally I would give you a blow by blow of these things. I'm sure I could, but I am suddenly feeling really burnt out about all of this. I'm in preliminary panic mode over school and just everything, and it isn't a pretty place to be in my head. The only thing I accomplished this summer was my organization project. The only strictly fun thing I did this summer was visit my aunt for a few days. Now I'm set to be launched back into the world of school and hysterics and now working and college and scary and scary and people I don't know and probably sleep deprivation. Taking it one thing at a time is so utterly difficult for me. If I ponder one thing it leads to another and before I know it I'm juggling fifteen worries at once, thinking "I need to fix all of this now. I need to fix all of this myself and I don't know how and I have no control and no certainty and I cannot handle this I cannot handle this what do I do."

So I think I'm going to go sharpen pencils now.

Blog Every Day August: 8/13

There are lots of things to talk about today, so hold on to your trousers! Unless you aren't wearing trousers. In which case, I can't really blame you.

Our story properly starts at three this morning or, more precisely, the time that I managed to talk myself into the state of sleep. It is at times like this that I realize putting a smartphone in my hands may have been the death of me--so much shiny! So much to read and do and play and look at, all from my bed at two in the morning! Quickly, before I forget, do any of you only sleep in one position? I have always tossed and turned, so when the inevitable question arises (why is this question asked so often?!) I have no clue what "position" I sleep in. I really don't favor any one for more than half an hour or so. Upon waking my blankets look a bit like a tornado struck. You really need to know this. Yes.

Anyway, I awoke at the beautiful hour of 7:15 (probably the earliest I've woken up all summer) and showered. I only ever bother blow-drying my hair when absolutely necessary, as it is just too much of a hassle and I actually quite like the way my hair looks when it does its own thing. If it starts to annoy me it is relegated to a ponytail. The end. But today school pictures were a definite event and it seemed like a good idea for my hair to be dry for this, so my mother dried my hair for me and cautioned me into some concealer. I am quite inept at these kinds of things. My mom still has to fix my eyebrows for me so I don't kill them. Hey, though: I know how to put mascara on! Also, I really dislike makeup. I hate it. It feels funny and I like my face better without it, which is really just as well. This has been a thoroughly interesting paragraph. I swear.

At ten 'til nine I was deposited in front of ye old high school. I had to inquire at the front desk as to the whereabouts of the magical senior orientation of doom and quickly made my way to the library. The doors weren't open yet and my fellow enthusiastic (see: apathetic) senior humans were mingling nearby. No one protested when I situated myself directly next to the door, thus making me the first participant in each and every station. I felt like such a cool kid.

Once the doors opened and I was ushered in (first, suckers!), I found myself at a table of doom. I gave my name and was located in a packet of papers. "You have still The Scarlet Letter out," said the shuffler of papers. "Do you have it?" I explained that no, I didn't have it, as I had indeed turned it in last year. Would I have to pay the fee anyway? Once we cleared up the name of my English teacher the process became instantly less high and mighty--it was easy to believe he may have lost or mislaid it and they would speak to him in regard to it. I passed on to the next station. (Also notable is the fact that I got a threatening notice for this book at the end of the school year stating that they wouldn't release my report card to me until I paid the fee. Would you guess what was also in the mail that day? My report card. Schools can be so manipulating, eh?)

At the next table I was given my tentative schedule and asked to check it. It didn't include any of my work periods, which I figured might happen, so I inquired about it. I needed to speak to the librarian to work out what periods she would like to have me; then they could fit them in. "Just go through the other stations," my godsend of a counselor told me. "Then you can talk to [librarian] and we can work it out." And so I did. The next station, just across the room, was school portraits. I handed in my order, sat in the appropriate place and contorted myself into the required position as the photographer got her lights to working. Oh, and also she told me to fix my hair. I'm sure that is going to be the best picture ever. No matter. Following this I had my school ID made. I can only hope my deer-in-the-headlights ID photo is not a suggestion of what is to come in the previous regard.

Then: textbooks. This was in the first hallway rather than the library, so I toddled over there only to realize that I couldn't very well pick up my books if I didn't know what classes I was taking. With that thought I returned to the library where I had a thoroughly fascinating conversation with the Shuffler Of Papers. "I told you," she said with a fierce glint in her eye, "that you couldn't come back until you turned in your book." I was baffled and spent the next three minutes calmly explaining to her what she had told me. Once she understood she was very apologetic--that glint in her eye had been The Real Deal. I can only imagine how many students try to get away with not turning in their books, so I guess I understand, and I was gracious about it. I've found that remaining calm and slowly explaining your viewpoint does wonders. It saves a lot of panic time.

Having been cleared to proceed from there, I crossed over to the ID station and waited through a few more IDs to speak with the lady making them. She works in the library, also, though I can't honestly say I know what her title is. She may very well be another librarian, but I'm not sure. I've spoken to her on several occasions when I was procrastinating over returning a book. Once it was my turn again I explained my situation. "I'm going to be working here in the library this year," I said, "but I have to work out what periods this will be and I'm not quite sure who to go to." She told me that I'd have to see the head librarian, who I've spoken of here before, but there was no certainty when she would return. "It may be ten or ten thirty, but I really couldn't say. You're free to sit on the couch and wait if you can, though." This was fine by me, so I told her that'd be no problem and situated myself on a couch across the room. It really wasn't a bother; I had a book with me and was of the thought that this stuff might take a while anyway.

It was about thirty minutes later the librarian arrived. Let me just say: I really like the librarian. I can't say I know her very well yet, but she has always been very friendly and down to earth with me. When I interviewed it was "almost" as if we were just having a nice chat and she seems genuinely excited at the prospect of me working there. While not all aspects of the venture have been ironed out immediately, she reassures me that it will be worked out and the kinks aren't going to be a big deal. I can't tell you how much of a relief all of this is. Sure, I'm still panicked, but were it anyone else... this panic would be amplified so many times. We looked at my schedule for a moment and then made our way over to the counselors' table again, where she clarified when she would like me to work during the school day (afternoons are another game entirely, and one even they aren't certain of yet). With this clarified, another counselor sat down with my schedule and I and got down to business.

After choosing one elective to keep (Psychology/Sociology), he placed work periods and Work Co-Op in the now available spots, checking once with the librarian to see where she'd prefer me. My schedule is now covered in red ink pen. Hopefully everything will transfer correctly. Fingers crossed? With this finished I bid the librarian a final goodbye and made my way back to the textbook room in the first hallway.

Collecting my books (Psychology and Economics), I then stood at the locker assignment table for about fifteen minutes. The person working the table happened to be AWOL, but here's the thing: I had time. If need-be, I could stay until 12:30. There was no reason to blow this off, as otherwise I would have to get this done when school started and that would just cause me more stress. I will stress about anything. Really. Often it isn't even related to me, which is where it truly gets complicated. So I just stood there until the woman signing out books took pity on me and came over to help me. It really only involved signing a piece of paper and being handed a card with a combination on it. This year my locker is a) in the first hallway and b) a top locker. Score! Maybe I will actually use it this time.

And with this, I was finished. My mother was busy for a while longer, so I attempted to hang out on a bench in front of the school. With my luck, however, I found myself attacked by hordes of ants and one very huge oh my goodness save me spider. I have to say, I am getting much better about bugs of late. I haven't screamed in their presence in quite some time, which is definite progress. I quickly relocated, sitting criss cross apple sauce on a safer looking bench, and soon my mother arrived to rescue me. I cannot drive. I am terrified of driving. If I had my druthers I would never learn to drive, but I see the necessity and have my learner's permit for the moment. We returned home, where she decided to fix my eyebrows for me. I would complain, but they look a lot better now. My eyebrows are a constant, wonky torment. But hey, I have hair, and I'm sure you find this utterly fascinating.

Then we drove into San Antonio to see my counselor, which went well. There are two locations, the first of which I prefer, but I haven't been able to go there for a while. I'm much more comfortable in the first location, which is where we were today. I suppose you don't need to know this, but really: you don't need to know any of this. This is really for my benefit, though I do appreciate your presence here. I want to be transparent, so I am. Following this outing we ate food at Panda Express. I am not very enthusiastic about Chinese food, but my brethren really like it and I can handle it every once in a while. In the same area was an Office Depot, which we visited afterwards.

Weird event: walking from our car to Office Depot I swear I saw this guy from my school in the window of an AT&T. Appropriately for him, he was embracing a girl in the corner of the store, thus making him visible through the window. I do try to be charitable about people, but he was in my theatre class last year and I was once forced into a group with him for a few days until I managed to wriggle out of it. During this time I learned more than I would ever care to know on the fantastic topic of a girl he fingered in a bus and the naked pictures they sent one another. Ick, ick, ick. This event also spurred a lovely Facebook drama at the time. I posted something about it one particularly exasperating class period on the topic of his bus activities and a woman I know from church berated me for my vulgarity. It went something like "Katherine, I am ashamed of you! What would your mother think?" Never mind the idea of context. The whole thing was rather stupid, as I can say quite truthfully that I have one of the cleanest mouths I am acquainted with (...). Context, context, context. Several friends (including my mother) rushed to defend me, but it turned into "well why did you post it, then?" and it was all rather tiring and I felt insulted on my part. But anyway, I saw this guy in the window and found it an odd occurrence. On the way out of Office Depot I spotted him in the same place, and I'm pretty certain it was him. Sure, this is the closest city to our small town, but it is also one of the largest cities in America. So that was that.

Returning home, my five hours of sleep started to whine at me for company. I got back in bed to "rest" and ended up sleeping for two hours. I woke up thinking it was Saturday already. Which it will be in two minutes. I must post this! Your stamina really is amazing. This has been a whole slew of rambling.

Blog Every Day August: 8/12

You again join me at a time in which I am wearing jogging pants. This is not because I am doing laundry (though I'm still working on that one) but because I need to commune with my treadmill directly after I finish this. Senior orientation is tomorrow morning and I guess sleep would be a good idea. I love staying up late. School stretches and morphs my sleep patterns into supremely evil shapes. The facts that a) I am definitely not a morning person and b) I really like sleeping really do not go well with the scholastic year. I will generally force myself to bed around 10:30 and wake at 6:30, and even in this it is never enough. One particularly cranky morning, upon being prodded for a research topic in English, I chose to write a paper on teen sleep deprivation. As a result of this "research" I am even more against schools in general and would thoroughly appreciate a later start time thank you very much. I have trouble focusing and functioning at all in the morning, much to the chagrin of those in close contact to me. All I can think or say is "don't talk to me!" and "no, I would not like you to cook me breakfast my brain hurts goodbye!" Which I realize probably sounds a bit evil and ungrateful. My mother and sister don't share my aversion to mornings. Such is life.

My only thoughts at this juncture pertain to my shoulder (it hurts, I blame exercise) and orientation tomorrow. Well, also sleep. My face has been kind enough to break out excellently in preparation for my school portrait thing. I also have no clue what to wear. Maybe I shouldn't worry about it. This is a possibility. Still, though. My mother refuses to accompany me ("I'm a big girl now!") and it makes me sad. Scary scary scary and things.

Let's talk about VoldeTread and why I am spending time with him. It's something to discuss, anyway. My weight does interesting things. For instance, I gained thirty pounds when we moved here. I guess I attribute this to stress. Then, (mostly) also due to stress, I lost them back again this past year. I was chronically tired, dizzy and had to force myself to eat. For quite some time we had suspected I was anemic, but when I got my blood tested everything was fine. When I complained to my doctor he suggested all of this (tiredness, lack of focus, et cetera) was psychological, and it may be, but that thought doesn't provide some magic cure. While I'm able to eat more now and am generally less tired, it still hasn't totally gone away. I'm still bedridden if I eat very much at one time but dizzy and tired if I eat nothing at all. It's a balance I'm attempting to master. But anyway, I'm back to where I guess I was two years ago weight-wise. People would still tell you I'm "overweight" but they can go die in a hole (violence! I blame aching shoulder). Anyway, my idea regarding VoldeTread is that the exercise might help me gain back some energy/stamina and possibly allow me to lose a bit more weight. I'm trying to think of it more as pertaining to the former than the latter, though. It also allows me some time each day when I can rationalize not worrying. This has been a really weird paragraph. Moving on!

Come to think of it, I have nothing else fantastic to speak to you about at the moment. Babbling. I do it often. Good day to you.

Blog Every Day August: 8/11

I do my own laundry. There is no dramatic explanation for this. It seems to me that a seventeen year old girl might do her own laundry if, say, she was forced to do so by her elders. But no. I do my own laundry only because it means I know where all my clothes are at once and they don't get mixed in with my sister's clothes (because then she will wear them, and I'd rather have my own clothes to myself, thanks much). It's easier, and it isn't difficult. In fact, I somewhat enjoy the task. However, as a result of this decision, I tend to do all of my laundry in the middle of the night. It also explains why I am sitting at my computer in jogging pants and an oversized t-shirt attempting to write a blog.

Today was vastly uneventful until a few hours ago. A large part of it was spent sulking (school, school, school, what do I do, things will fall apart, ahhhhh depression). Then I sat on my bedroom floor to sift through belongings and discovered a beanie I wore in middle school. It amused me, as I am still somehow in possession of this picture. This ensued. It was a fun time. And so I sifted and sifted and put things in piles, realizing: this is the last of it. After this I've gone through everything. Thoroughly weird feeling. It took a few hours and now I'm finished. Sure, I'll probably move a few things around some more, but essentially I'm through. So, for your viewing pleasure, I present The Rooms In Which I Occupy.

While I never did a proper "before," thinking the project would be smaller than it was, here's a bit of an idea:

Presently:

Study.*

Room.

(if you'd like to creep on the bookshelf to the extent that it's possible, see here. And if for some reason you'd like to creep on my other bookshelves, let me know. As an internet stalker, myself... I have to ask.)

Closet.

(note that you can see the floor.)

I'd also like to put forth, considering the length of time I spent on this, that much of the result isn't aesthetic. Most of it was sorting papers and bins and shuffling their whereabouts. But there you are! The fruits of my work. I started this project in June, so it's been a long time coming. So much stuff! Now I must be off to do more laundry and spend time in the presence of ye old grand treadmill of doom. Or VoldeTread. Whichever you prefer.

*You may ask "but why does Katherine have a study?" The answer, simply, is that my time spent homeschooling made it a good idea. Also I'm lucky and it's a re-purposed dining room.

Blog Every Day August: 8/10

I am in a funk right now. As you may be able to discern, I do go up and down quite a lot. Like a buoy, maybe, not quite sinking but kept in a terrifying repetition. I mean, it's preferable to being depressed. However, by the same token, it keeps me paralyzed for fear I'll again be pushed into a pit of depression. I'm so much better off than I was last year at this time. I am. But as with anything, this is a process. The fact that my home life growing up unknowingly screwed with the way I think and rationalize my actions in life isn't just going to go away. I'm dealing with it, I'm making progress, and I will be alright.

But here I reach the point that I feel bad about taking up your time with it. I feel that I shouldn't be complaining or running over the same things, that I should be above or beyond it all. But I'm not. I am not yet beyond the fact that I have been screwed with, and in my writing this is what comes up. This is my space. This is how I process things. Maybe I am too transparent, by some standards, but I cannot imagine enjoying this month of blogging without doing it for myself and in this fashion. So there's that.

Today I finished my journal. That is, all the pages are filled, and it makes me feel a bit poignant and weepy. The first dated entry was 3/27 of this year, and to see all of these pages filled with thought and confusion and my life... it's a powerful thing. I have a thing for journals, and I've kept quite a few scattered throughout the years, but I've never actually filled all of the pages of any book. I will find myself distracted or lured away by a shinier, more hopeful journal. I'll stop. But this journal, I kept it to the end. I placed my thoughts in it even when they made no sense, or especially when they made no sense, and this gives me hope for myself. In writing I can begin to make sense of things. I can tie down thought and know it won't float away, know that I can go back and piece it together again. My memory will grow fuzzy, yet I will still have a record. I am so attached to this journal now that I'm rather sad for it to be "finished." It holds so much. But... new beginnings, and so forth. Another journal awaits me, pages blank and waiting.

Senior orientation is on Friday. School ID, schedule, school pictures, textbooks. I'm really hoping to have the same math and English teachers I had last year. I still don't know whether I'm taking the AP version of Government/Economics (my credits have been so weird that I honestly don't know what they have me down for). They may have my classes transcribed wrong for all I know. Furthermore, I'm still not officially hired to work in the library. The woman who runs the Co-Op is still on vacation, and while I've been assured by two other parties that it will be worked out, I will inevitably still worry myself to death over it. Today's panic has been "zomg I will look so frumpy and everyone will hate me." It changes daily. There are a lot of unknowns, questions I cannot answer, and that is something that drives me up the wall. If I cannot control or pick things apart myself to answer them... I panic and stress and attempt to do it anyway. But the grand majority of things in my life are not in my control! This is life. By trying to control everything I am pushing myself into misery. I can't help but make the excuse that it's my nature, but as I say: I'm still a work in progress. And, while I am vastly unable to convince myself of this, I really do have to take it "one [day/thing/crisis/step] at a time."

Blog Every Day August: 8/9

I am writing this as "Outside World" plays in the background. To get it over with. Trying not to cry or do anything silly. I've told myself since the Dobbin situation that once this song came on shuffle again I would let myself cry. Now, I'm not crying now. Hopefully this won't happen. Recently I've been waiting and waiting for it to come up, and it hasn't, and it's gotten to the point that I'm scared to leave iTunes on shuffle. Silly, possibly. But there you are. If you must know, it was kind of our song. Enough with that. The song is now over and I can speak with you about less depressing things.

My honorary Godfather, Dave Rhodes, recently suggested I write a guest post for the hilarious and wonderful you should read it please RhodesTer Chronicles. His only specification was to "make it funny." I was stumped. I may have also suffered from a panic attack. However, I did manage to come up with this. At least now my dog is famous! Really, click the link. Click it click it click it. You should also really go annoy him on my behalf. Despite the fact that he only ever Skypes me when he's procrastinating (meanie), he's really cool. Coffeesister is also an integral part of the team, being my honorary Godmother and a generally awesome and fantastical person. They're married. You know, as you do. Twenty years! I love them so.

Please let it be known that I have no idea how this post is going to work sequentially. I have ideas but no clear plan as to putting them together, which ought to be fun. Before I go any further, I would truly appreciate it if you'd keep my mom in your thoughts tomorrow, as she has a job interview. My mother is so deserving of good things. I cannot even express it. I cannot. Also, today it came to my attention that she has started reading my blog, so hello! Your daughter's head is a rather spectacular place sometimes.

In the three years that I have been a member of YouTube I've managed to pile up over 300 subscriptions. With much dragging of feet and putting off, I've pruned my subscriptions from 330 to 160. I felt a bit bad about it, but I was lying to myself thinking I might be able to keep up. So that was an accomplishment. I also went through my RSS reader and did some pruning, and a few weeks ago I parsed through some of my bookmarks. The internet is lovely, but it leaves me with a lot of clutter. I can't help it. I want to save everything, which is why this is still in my bookmarks after three years. It's pretty quality, though, don't you think?

This month marks my three year anniversary of becoming a nerdfighter. If you're up for an eight minute tirade you can watch my video on the (vague) subject, but I really don't blame you if you don't. In any event, I am still very happy to be a nerdfighter. This community has brought me so many good things, and I have a feeling my own part only scratches one surface. Maybe I will elaborate at another time. This is getting very "look at this link! Look at it! Shiny!" and I commend you for sticking around.

In addition to pruning my online world a tad and trolling my guest post over at The RhodesTer Chronicles (sorry, I can't help it), I did a bit more organizing today. I'm getting achingly close to being "finished," or as close to finished as I can reasonably reach. At this point it's really a matter of sorting through the dregs I'm not sure what to do with and moving things into new homes. In any event, weird. Despite the fact that I've moved a lot, putting things in boxes doesn't mean you thoroughly evaluate them. Sure, they get sorted more often and maybe thought about more, but it still isn't the same thing. So intense!

You hate me now. That's okay.

I haven't spent time with Dobby's Tea Tread (still working on names here) in the past two days. Why do I feel lazy? I guess that should happen, or something. I'm close to finishing my Firefly rewatch. Sad times. I haven't read any more since I last posted. Distractions. Things. Good day to you.

Blog Every Day August: 8/8

I am in a surprisingly good mood at the moment. Surprising for general reasons, but also for the fact that I have suddenly found myself at the bottom of a great rut since yesterday evening. I make a lot of fun over it, which keeps me from crying about it (see "and if I laugh at any mortal thing, tis that I may not weep"), but I reread a bunch of old IM logs Dobbin and I kept and it started to eat away at me again. All those promises, all those glorious things he said. I didn't always believe them. In fact, I usually didn't. But they were still there and it still kills me that he said them so earnestly and then took them all back. I never lied, as I mentioned. When he told me he loved me a mere week into our relationship, I didn't answer as if it were call and response. Instead I thanked him and said I hoped he could wait until I knew exactly how I felt. Even upon repetition, I withheld and kept my wits about me. Mature, right? But I'm getting off track here. As I say, I'm in a much better mood at the moment. I can't pinpoint exactly why.

We went to Sunday school with the youth group I've mentioned previously this morning. As it's a bit of a drive, we've only been going to Sunday school, which is during the second service. It works out well because we aren't fond of the pastor at all. He rubs me completely the wrong way, and I'm always left frustrated by his sermons. So instead we go to Sunday school where they pick a topic and go from there, usually wandering off tangentially in opposite directions. This is something I can personally relate to, and while we sometimes cross subjects that can be controversial, I can usually find common ground somewhere--even in just "well, we aren't really sure, are we?" and "it can be interpreted in a lot of ways."

And don't get me wrong, I often do not relate to them, but I have yet to witness complete catastrophe. Always preferable. Some of the members are really nice, but others... I don't know them that well, or they rub me the wrong way. I'm sure they have many redeeming qualities, but sometimes I feel as if I'm in a room of eight year olds. But who am I to say and some are nice and it isn't all that bad, sitting at a table with them for an hour discussing topics we--let's be honest here--don't yet know much about. I was especially inspired by the words of one really, really nice girl today. We were almost finished and discussing one aspect of belief, whether we believed in it or not, and she theorized that she could see herself accepting it. "But," I asked, "if you did believe it and turned out to be incorrect, would you be wrong or unrighteous?" She smiled warmly. "No," she said. "No, I don't think so. I think that as long as you have the core, as long as you mean well and seek Him earnestly, that is the important thing. And the core," she said, clasping her hands together, "is love. No matter your religion, be you Jew or Muslim or whatever, the core is love and if you are heartfelt..." She grinned again, that infectious smile, and I agreed. And I'm only just realizing now how much hope her words bring me, because I feel so much the same but cannot truly express it.

But still, once I got home I went straight to bed again. I felt gloomy, mostly about Dobbin but about just everything and how little I'm getting done. Even amidst this summer of doing nothing, I haven't truly given myself a break. I haven't given myself permission to enjoy myself. I may have gotten little done these last two months, but this doesn't mean I let myself go. I'm realizing this two weeks before school starts. It's unfortunate, yes, but a large part of me is glad to be heading towards something different. I'm coming to realize that, though I hate being overwhelmed, being busy is something I'm good at. I'll probably reread this a couple of months in the future and disagree rampantly through the whelmingness of all I'm supposed to get done, but the thought does occur to me. I don't properly know how to "have fun." That's another thing I'm realizing, how little room I give myself to breathe and exist without internal guilt and what-have-you. I don't know which is right, or whether there is a right, but there you go. More self discovery for you.

But amidst this gloom, an online friend of almost four years came to my rescue. Knowing the details of the Dobbin situation from the beginning (and I of her own story), she beckoned me to IM and let me rant at her. We talked about it and agreed to the stupidity of both our situations and chose our weapons against the offenders. It feels so nice, like I actually belong somewhere, when I speak to her. This isn't just "online friendship." This is FRIENDSHIP, and I am grateful. I am grateful for all of you. I am coming to realize that I am making lasting friendships on the internet, and though I've never met any of you... no, throw out the 'though.' Sometimes I feel like online friendships can be a lot more meaningful than those friendships you form on your own turf. I'm not friends with you because you exist (though, well, you do) and are conveniently located. I'm friends with you because I genuinely care, I genuinely hope the best for your wellbeing, and I do want to be there for you. Sure, sometimes this tiny little isolated town is lonely and I feel hopeless, but I have found absolutely real meaning in friendships formed online. And I am so, so grateful.

It was this, a few other conversations (I'm still all a dither over having multiple exchanges of words in one day) and reading that have lifted me closer to extricating myself from this rut. I have begun reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and it is just so beautiful. I lived ages eight to fourteen in Italy, and the author's words pertaining to it are making me homesick (something I never would have guessed could happen, save for my longing for the food). But it's beautiful. Just lying here in bed and reading on a summer evening, my alarm clock ticking beside me and resting my chin on my stuffed zebra, is... new. It is feelings like this that I long for. One thing I'm enjoying about exercising is that, while I'm doing it, it is acceptable not to be doing twenty other things. Allowing myself not to think or worry or panic all the time is not a natural state for me. It's something worth pursuing, even if it just means setting aside an hour on a Saturday evening. Something whole and set, something to allow me to unwind. I need to try. Also, I'm garishly behind on my reading, but then I shouldn't be worrying over that now. Worry, the constant companion.

My mother came in earlier and assessed my clothes so she can take them in. My mother has magic sewing skills. So that happened and I helped start the pizza she's making and now I'm back in my room with my book and fuzzy light waning outside my window as I write this without the help of my glasses. I keep waiting to crawl back into my hole of terrifying depression and confusion. I'm scared for it. But right now I'm writing this with more reading time close at hand and that summer sun drifting off, and I have hope. Hope gets me through a lot of times. Sometimes it is all I have to hold onto as I self-destruct and worry. I'm a work in progress. And guess what? Even when it is supremely uncomfortable, that is okay.

I walked home that night feeling like the air could move through me, like I was clean linen fluttering on a clothesline, like New York itself had become a city made of rice paper--and I was light enough to run across every rooftop. (25, Eat, Pray, Love)