no, of course I didn't forget

You think I'd forget my favorite holiday? No way did I forget that it's


I did almost forget to blog it though. So while I still have time (officially)...

did you know?

Whenever I used to cry, the tears would only fall from one eye. My right one, the one facing away from the driver since I was usually the passenger. Except here lately, I'm the driver, and I cry out of both eyes. And its so much harder to hide.

it's storytime!

So, in my imaginative writing class we had this assignment to portray a comedic situation... where people are in a situation and it's not supposed to be funny but the way they're doing it (or stumbling through it) makes it funny. This is what I wrote:


Sex 101


Uh-oh, I’m in trouble. You know you’re in for it when your parents say they want to schedule a meeting between soccer practice and homework. Usually that time is reserved for catching up on the day, watching TV, or just eating dinner. Not tonight apparently. This meeting has been scheduled for a week now, and as each day gets closer, I dread it more and more. Maybe they caught me, finally. Maybe they’ve seen me sneaking a peek in my sister’s diary? Or, maybe they saw me trying to figure out the parental code to the blocked TV channels? Why couldn’t they just yell at me right away? To schedule a meeting seems harsh and unjust. Just get it over with already.


Later that day, after soccer practice and before homework, I’m sat down for the meeting. Mom and dad together on the couch armed with a stack of books and me on the chair, facing them like a soldier in front of the firing squad. There’s silence.


I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Oh! Could we please just get this over with?? What’s my punishment? What’s my crime? Just give it to me already, this scheduling and waiting around business is about to drive me nuts. And besides, I didn’t do it and it wasn’t my fault!”


My exclamations bring a startled look from my parents. Wait, that means they weren’t going to yell at me? What’s this about then?


Mom begins. “No, Alex. You’re not in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong, at least not that we know of… yet. It’s just that Dad and I have been thinking you’re getting to that age where you’re starting to notice girls…”


And that’s when it clicks for me. In my head, I’m screaming, praying. No. No no no. This is not the sex talk. Please, don’t let it be the sex talk. Anything but the sex talk. Yell at me. Scream at me. Lock me in my room for the next 6 months. I don’t mind, really. Just don’t give me the sex talk.


“…and I know we’ve never actually talked about…uh...erm… you know, sex.” she says, whispering the last word, barely able to get it out.


Dad takes over for mom, who’s now blushing so bright red you’d think she’d traded her head for a tomato with a face. “So Alex, we just want you to know that if you have any questions, you can talk to your mom,’ an elbow nudge from mom ‘uh, I mean us, if you have any um questions about fucking.” He sits back, looking very pleased with himself for being so forthright.


After a horrified look and another nudge from mom, he corrects himself “uh, I mean, if you have any questions about SEX. Any questions at all, just come to us and we’ll be happy to give you a book showing you whatever you want to know.”


Dad looks at mom, who in turn looks at me. Now they’re both looking at me, and we’re all wishing this moment has never happened.


I couldn’t say anything. Is it possible for a floor to just open up and swallow us, chairs and all? At least if it did we wouldn’t have to relive this horribly embarrassing conversation. But no, the floor stays shut.


My parents decide to end this embarrassing episode and make a quick exit, but not before they put the books down next to me on the couch. ‘Keep them as long as you need them to find out what you want to know.’ I’m told.
Gee, thanks.

the lesser of 2 evils

Ok so I've decided that I have two options. I can't keep living, surviving, under all the stress I'm under or the thoughts I've been having. So, having said that, the way I figure I have 2 options...
The first option is to see a counciler/therapist. They have programs at my school that I can just make appointments to see/talk to a counciler about anything that might be stressing me out and it's completely confidential and (I think) cost-free. The issue I have with that is I don't know if I can do it. I think I'll have a hard problem talking specifics about what is bothering me with a stranger, or even someone that I see around campus. I HATE to think that someone will be thinking I can't deal with this or feeling sorry for me or whatever.

The second option is to find something to do to de-stress. I used to draw/sketch, it relaxed me and I wasn't half bad at it. I picked up my sketchpad the other day and just couldn't though, so I don't know if that'll work again. The mood wasn't there, the inspiration and the 'talent' isn't there. Maybe it's something I need to work at? Even just writing in general, let alone on here, has stopped or slowed down. Isn't it ironic that I'm taking an imaginative writing course when the least thing I feel like I can do or even want to do is write?

Woaers me, I know. And I feel pathetic for even blogging about it, cause even I don't know how to help me and I don't want this to be one of those 'depressed teen (20ish) girl blogs' that exist in the millions... I'm not depressed (usually), I'm just stressed and I can't get it out anywhere or any way. I'm lost.

yup, i'm 20 now...

today's my birthday *grin*

POTC anyone?

sillycurygurl86: *shakes uncontrollably* shes gonna kill me....
sillycurygurl86: :'(
aliengurl4004: i'm not gonna kill you
sillycurygurl86: they all say that.
aliengurl4004: guess you'll just have to say parlay
sillycurygurl86: p-p-p-p-p... arlay
aliengurl4004: parkay? you got a thing for butter?
sillycurygurl86: i said parlay!
aliengurl4004: oops, damn glass eye can't see letters
sillycurygurl86: haha