Monday, August 27, 2012

Rock, Paper, Scissors

The bad thing about going to a private school a half hour from your house is that someone else is doing the same thing, in the exact opposite direction. Thomas and I were a "geographically challenged" couple, living over an hour away from each other.

This made our budding romance quite difficult during the summer months, when we had to rely on parents/siblings/friendswhogottheirlicensesearly to transport us to see one another. 

We had quite a few bumps along the way, but by mid-August, I thought we were in the clear. Until...



I thought I had done a good job of easing Thomas's fears and that come school's start in just 10 days, everything would be fine because we were in LOVE! (Nevermind the fact that I declared my love for him and got jealous about this Greg fellow in the same diary entry.)

But then I started having weird conversations with some of our friends who were giving me their condolences on our failed relationship.

Uh.. what? Is it possible that I got dumped and didn't know it?

YES. Please prepare to watch me self destruct in an AOL conversation. You'll also learn some fun facts along the way. 

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My favorite parts of this conversation:
  • How I said everything three times. "I don't get it, I don't get it, I don't get it." "Say it, say it, say it." "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
  • "But you went golfing with my dad."
  • How despite the fact that I was being told, repeatedly, that we were not together and would not be... I kept trying to convince him to change his mind. I suppose I didn't consider that NOT acting like a mental person might have done the trick.

So, what's a girl to do when she discovers she's surprise broken up with by the person who days earlier confessed their love? She spends the next 240 hours laying in the sun, applying self-tanning lotion, whitening her teeth and getting highlights so that she can be in top shape for the first hallway sighting on the first day of 10th grade. 

The result:

Gotta love the uniform polo, hemp necklace, and platform Doc Martens.

And, I'm happy to say, it worked! The first day of school was rough and I ended up quoting Avril Lavigne lyrics at the end of it, but a mere two days later..

"I was getting...



This just goes to show that you CAN convince someone that they want to be your boyfriend, even if they try not to be. 

Unfortunately, this win gave me a false sense of power later on down the road. I was able to convince someone breaking up with me not to... but it backfired when he didn't talk to me for 3 days while out of town and came back with the girl he had been living with in hand. 

NOW I know, if someone breaks up with you.. maybe, just maybe, you let 'em go. One of those "he's not that into you" type of things, I guess.



Thursday, March 15, 2012

Notes from My Bestie

No real theme. Just hilariousness. And pictures. Love infographics, if you will.












Thursday, January 26, 2012

The "Look, Look Away" Game

Well, it's been a while since my last post. I'm sure a bunch of you have been on the edge of your seat, dying to know whether or not Thomas liked me back, or if I was just left hanging as you have been. The good news for you (all one of you) is that you're about to find out!


However, I'd like to address my posting absence. I think I got a little caught up in making each post unique and clever, like each one had to be a nice little story all packaged up. And that, is exhausting. Because, really, how many times can I say "god, I was SUCH an idiot" and make it sound different? What I've come to realize is that every post doesn't need a bunch of commentary from me, because my idiocy speaks for itself. 


So I'm going to shut up now and just let you see for yourself what a teenager in love sounds like, extremely loud and incredibly close.


A note to Rachel & Bean:




From the "novel" I started:








Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Hawkes for the Holidays

So, tonight I went to a play called Holmes for the Holidays. In short, our group of friends is looking for more activities on weeknights and somehow ended up at the equivalent of teen night for young adults at the theater. It was a story about the actor that played Sherlock Holmes and a murder mystery that took place at his home over the Christmas holiday. Unfortunately it wasn't interactive and none of us ended up being the murderer or murderee in the show.


That's really neither here nor there, because after seeing them wipe the "blood" off of the murder weapon, I had a flashback.


When we were kids, my sister, brother and I used to set up little murder scenes in the kitchen, living room, etc. in anticipation of when my mom would get home from a walk. We'd put ketchup on a knife and my brother's shirt, have him lay down on the floor in the family room (in clear view from the door) and I'd act like I was crying over him. 


Convincing, right?


Well, at intermission I excitedly brought up this memory to my sister to reminisce about how crazy we were. 


She didn't remember.


So I texted my brother: "Remember when we used to set up murder scenes in the house for when Mom got home? Like we'd cover knives with ketchup and be laying on the floor?"


His response: "WHAT???"


He didn't remember either.


I assumed my oldest sister wouldn't remember, since she was already dating boys* at the time and likely wouldn't have gotten on board with trying to convince my mom that her kids were dead.


*Note: I know this because I remember we pulled the murder setup once after a particular visit from the police at our house. We had gotten home one night to an open door and the TV on - nobody home. So, naturally, we called the po-po. When they arrived, they determined that the house had been broken into and that the only room that was ransacked was hers. The truth? She was hurriedly getting ready for a date, trying on clothes and throwing them around her room and then ran out the door, leaving the house in such a state of disarray. 


Back to the point. 


So I called my mom. She laughed and said she "vaguely" remembered it. I'm glad to see that the traumatization hasn't been burned in her mind forever.


But still, in hindsight... what were we thinking? Sorry Mom.