Lack of Sleep, I guess.

I haven’t written in a while. I’ve thought about it and everything, I just have a lack of energy and motivation. I have history homework tonight, so I suddenly felt the urge to.

I am tired of whining about my life. It’s a difficult habit to be done with. Another difficult habit to be done with is feeling sorry for myself and having a low self esteem or whatever you would prefer to call it.

I mean, sure, nothing happens, and yes, I would like something to happen. Yes, I could do something about it. No, I don’t know what, nor would I most likely be comfortable with it, I’m assuming. That whole sexy side of confidence and flirty side of confidence don’t really roll with me.

So I can sit here, and I can imagine, and I can write really bad stories about what happens to me and what happens to my life in my fantasy world (and not the kinky and weird kind [win for the correct use of the word kinky]). So, maybe that’s what I’ll do with this little “blog thing”. I dunno. We’ll have to see.

Regrettably Apologetic.

I feel bad for not writing in a long while. Regardless of the fact that no one reads my posts, this is a place where I can look at vintage pictures and think only of myself and my thoughts without being ridiculed.

That comment comes up because, once again, I was snapped at by my dad about being inconsiderate and all of the other synonyms/defining words for brat. I was, needless to say, sitting in the car so stiff that I didn’t want to ever move again. AKA, how I normally feel when my dad has the desire to purge his emotions.

My sister has also moved back in. I love her and all, but it’s her quirks that get me. Quirks, oddities, malfunctions, glitches. Whatever. The way she eats with her mouth open and a spoon too big for her mouth, causing extra noise. The way she huffs and puffs and makes sounds to draw attention to herself. The way she’s always on the computer and always having to do multiple things at once so you feel like she’s never involved in a conversation. The way she says stuff and my parents make faces. Not much about her living here is good. It’s all very difficult and annoying and messing with my daily patterns.

Now that I sit here and type, I think of how earlier, I was contemplating getting my eighth grade Leadership teacher’s email or address since she moved to Washington. I was wondering, once I got either of these pieces of information, what I would write to her. She was such an inspiration to me and one of the only people in this world that I actually want to grow up to be like. But I haven’t seen her or talked to her in two years, so my question is, what would I say? How would I describe my life? If I want to be like her as much as I have, why am I the way I am?

I know there’s the whole bit about how we all are are own people, but she had characteristics that I wanted to emulate and adopt into my lifestyle and develop so that they would become my own and I could behave in a nature that was admirable, to me. So, that being said, what would I say? I am not the way I’ve wanted to turn out and not a way modeled after her in the slightest. I was sitting in yearbook thinking about all of this and I realized, I really don’t like who I am and what path I’m taking.

Ms. Peacock-Preston was like a ball of energy. To me, she was Warren Willis UM Summer Camp everyday of the year. She was excitement and quirkiness and knew about the world and wanted to do her little part to change where it is and where it’s going. She had crafty and different ideas that were amazing in every way. She made her style a very natural sort of one. She drank coffee out of a mason jar and her entire room was green. She knew how to make videos that could make people open their minds. She was kind and happy and had nice things to say about everyone and everything. She encouraged her students to do things they wouldn’t normally do. She knew the way she was and was confident about it and was happy in her life. She did things most people wouldn’t and behaved how she felt was appropriate. She was amazing and all I’ve ever wanted was to be like her. Here’s to attempting. 

I’ve decided to befriend Matt instead trying to make him like me. “You can more friends in 2 months by being interested in other people than you can in 2 years trying to make others interested in you.” So I’m becoming interested. Hopefully starting tomorrow. Hopefully Matthew (my soulmate) will do the same with Marian. I think that would be a good place for him to start to get to know her better and see whether or not she’d be as suitable a candidate for him as he hopes/thinks. Maybe I should do the same.

Oh yeah, since the last time I posted, I had a full in-person conversation with Matt, invited him to Youth, had considerably long conversations with him on Facebook, and tomorrow (or some point this week) will be joining in a conversation with him. Time to start being natural and open rather than nervous and stalkerish. 

That’s pretty much all I can think of right now. Hopefully that will change. Maybe not. I will hopefully post something else this week.

Oh yeah, Zach’s annoying the crap out of me. He’s so hyper and everything and he’s the only one allowed to complain about his life and all that jazz. I went through a little depression phase. Two weeks. Yours last months. Get over it. And were you annoyed with me obsessing about Matt? Oh sorry, I just thought you’d be cool with it after 5 months of you pining for Lainey. Yeah, pining, you hypocritical butt face. You have a problem? Try pulling the stick out from between your cheeks. Ugh. I hate friends who act like my legit siblings. Taylor doesn’t because I am best friends with her all the time. Zach and Katie are in the same category right now. The category that is a list titled, “People Who I Am Going to Murder While They Sleep”.

I’m done.

I just have nothing to say…

The title. That is the reason I can’t seem to sit down and say anything. That and the fact that I have so much work that I can’t do anything else. Well. Supposedly. 

Monday was horrendous. School wasn’t. I had to go to this church meeting with a couple of adults and they were all extremely testy with each other and ended up verbally exploding and talking over each other. Even my dad became apart of it. I guess he set the tone for the night. He said something he probably shouldn’t have about the group we were meeting with being pointless because we aren’t doing anything to help fix the church, which is the point of the group. 

It was scary for me. It was like seeing your parents fight and yell at each other and just spiral down into a place that Christian adults should not be demonstrating for the church. Especially the Youth Group. As the “leader” of it, I feel like it’s my job to educate everyone about it and basically say, “This is not how leaders behave. We are a group of leaders. If we have problems with each other, than we should most definitely sit down and talk through it with a mediator there to keep things civil.” 

If the adults and leaders of our church are sitting there and arguing like teenagers, then our church is never going to become as successful as it was in the past. It’s sad when it seems as though it is up to the teenagers of a multi-generational organization to be the ones who are going to have to be an example for the elders of the church. However, this is what our church has come to. So now, I think it’s time I tell all of my Youth Group that we are going to have to step up and show the church how to act: youthful, mature, enthusiastic, polite and respectful, and Christian in all we do. 

There will always be disagreements amongst people. People will always have emotions and spirits that will be broken, but that is no reason for accusations, arguments, heated tones and yelling, or leaving in the middle of the conversation. Our Youth Group is already learning that problems are better solved when we sit down and discuss the matters. A lot of us learned it on our Mission Trip and next week, I am going to explain this to the group and I am also going to set up Covenant Groups and a Buddy Program. I’ll talk to Barry, Mom, and Pastor Thom about it. Just a mental note.

Hopefully, with people to rely on and go to for advice, we can become more tightly knit and calmer about things. I don’t want a Youth Group that emulates our church as much as most people think it should. We should be a separate model to mold to. We are not going to become Ortega’s Youth Group, Grace Church’s Youth Group, or our church’s congregation: cliquey, separated, hateful, and on some occasions, fake.

This message may seem rude and hateful, but I am so hurt about what happened, that I feel as though this is the action that must be taken in order to ensure that not all of this world will be affected by the harsh reality that shouldn’t be what it is. Church is a safe haven, but I didn’t feel very comforted at that meeting. I’m scared of what is going to happen. I’m scared of everything that might happen this year. It’s scary, but I’m going to handle things with confidence because that’s the best thing that can be done in this situation.

I’m going to go work on homework for Youth as well as school. I’m going to go work on things that serve as an escape from the truth about my church.

And on the first day of school, it rained.

I am not one hundred percent sure what to think about and process about today. I get to school and I walk up to Marian, who is a girl in my social group, and who else should be standing right by us but the guy I like, Matt. So while he’s standing practically right behind me, I’m shouting with my friends and being my usual obnoxious self, making me a complete fool. But still, on occasion, I would turn around to look and he would be standing there, happening to look at the same time.

Enough of me fawning. My Latin class is way huge compared to last year, my Psychology class has a ton of kids in it that I’m not sure I like, my Chemistry class has David Kyser and a guy (an extremely hideous guy) who I think might like me, and I haven’t read the required reading for English. Great start.

Oh! And at lunch, I have it with Matt, but he’s one of those kids who sits inside the cafeteria. Hopefully it was just for today. And when I went into the cafeteria, who else should be sitting a table over from where my friends were going to sit then Alex, the guy I had a crush on, stared at a lot, maybe got stared back at, and today, definitely got stares. It was nice to know he’d noticed me, but I’m loud, so lots of people notice me. Not sure what to think. 

Speaking of me not knowing what to think about guys staring at me, I felt eyes on me in Chemistry. The eyes of David Kyser, the one that has a rumor spread that he came out to a group of close friends. And by “came out”, I mean he sports the preference associated with rainbow flags. Questionable? I think yes.

So today, I feel as though my ego was super-boosted by all the attention I received from guys (or might have received) and I am not sure whether this is the attention I want, need, am actually getting, or whether it’s attention that might actually bloom into… something? Now, to the homework assignments from Every. Single. Teacher.

Suffering Through… With Rewards?

So, this whole job thing has been oddly stressing me out for the past week. I went to work today, and feelings were more comfortable. Diane wasn’t there, which was helpful because something tells me she’s not a fan. Phebie is extremely nice, which makes things easier. I have a better idea of what is going on and what I need to be doing, so I seem busier. I am calming down, but still suffering through.

What has helped me to better calm myself, you ask? Well, perhaps it’s the fact that before I left for work today, mid-“freaking out about getting there on-time”, my dad informs me that he is willing to sell his truck (which he’s been “trying to sell” for about three years now) and exchange that money for the down payment of a car. A car which I will (according to the Mother) have the ability to choose one within a reasonable price range that I may get to drive and use and have when I come to a good age to have it put in my name.

The catch: I make all the payments. And I have to lie to my sister, who just got a used car. That catch is actually fantastic. This means that although it is legally and financially their car, I make the payments on it. Meaning, that when I become 18, or have it completely paid off, it will be my car. It won’t be a car that my parents buy for me and it won’t be a car that I raise money for and get it and find out that it is a super crappy piece of crap. It will be a brand new car that will hopefully last me an extremely long time (knock on wood) that I will enjoy and keep and have and it should pretty much last me until I get married (about my late-twenties, early-thirties).

So as I sit here and babble incoherently, a realization is hitting that I will have to suffer through until I turn sixteen and get a car and am able to find a job that I find much more enjoyable. I’m thinking maybe American Eagle, or Chik-fil-A. Either would be alright options and hopefully could transfer me up into the New England area. That would be ideal.

Alright, hitting the sack, dreaming about how my life could fall into place, allowing me to go on a path that I will enjoy the entire time. Hopefully. I’m working on that whole “praying about it thing”.

Hyperness or Happiness?

So tonight was my church’s first day of Family Fun Week. I, as a member of the Youth, basically was sent to play with little kids and hang out with my fellow youth group friends. We got our own kiddie table at dinner and got to talk and joke and just have an awesome time, which was great. Then we played with kids and it was a mass mess of adorableness and hyperness. This led me to extremely giddy and smiling and jumping up and down, just because of how excited I was. I told everyone I was just hyper, so they threatened to take away my ice cream, which then caused me to revoke the statement.

But as my mom and I were getting home and bringing up the trash cans, it led me to wonder, was I just hyper, or was I actually really happy for once? This whole “Realization” thing has got me questioning my life now and who I am becoming versus who I was during and right after middle school versus who I was to begin with.

I’m always happiest when I am running around and hanging out with my friends and family and people who are like family, so I could have always been this way. But I’m so confused as to whether or not I have always been this way? I’m just confused.

I’m so confused as to what is going on with me except that I hate my job, love people, and want school to start. I’m not even sure if I really like Matt. I’m not even sure if I really like myself or if I even know myself. Summer is horrible to me and it needs to hurry up and end. But only after I go shopping.

On a last P.S. side note, I went up to this kid I’ve known since I was born, Scott, and was like, “I like your shorts”, teasing them because I had a pink pair just like them, and he smiled oddly so I don’t know if he realized who I was since I got glasses or was thinking I was actually complimenting him or what. I hope he’s there the rest of the week.

As I do Max, who has really blue eyes that obviously get him a lot of girls and he looks at you sometimes out of the corner of his eye and it’s just like, “Woah. You’re cute.” But I’m not sure he is. He just has that kind of ability.

The Stupidity is Literally Overwhelming.

So I have this job. At a grocery store. To me, the job is extremely cliched where I live, simply because most fifteen-year-olds get a job as a bagger. It sucks because it is extremely tedious and boring and it just sucks. So here I am, whining a stupid teenage whine because I don’t want to go to my second day tomorrow.

Maybe it’s because I don’t really know anyone there, or maybe because I really have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, but I just feel so awkward and weird and uncomfortable as I stand around, trying to think of something to do next.

It’s also weird having a job. It is also uncomfortable when someone expects you to do something correctly and, shocker, you don’t. Like some person overloads a cart with their groceries and when you ask if they want another, they expect their eggs to stay on the cart when they’re oh-so-carefully put on the very top of the overflowing buggy. Oh the woes of a “courtesy clerk”.

Enough of that. I’m on and Awkward. kick, starting from the beginning again with my mom. And do you know what the result of this is? The over analyzation of the lack of my love life.

For example, orientation was last week. I worked our school’s lacrosse booth, hoping to see “Shanghai” (AKA, the code name of the guy I’m crushing on). When he finally showed up, I was talking with one of his friends, Matthew McKetty, the charming and sweet guy that I once friend zoned (shockingly, not awkward). I was whining to Matthew that I was sitting all alone at the booth and he should send me people to talk to, when who else should walk in but the kid I’m totally crushing on, but barely talk to at all, whatsoever. 

He walked in the door and I immediately looked over. How better to feel welcomed into  room when the first person you make eye contact is the freaky, loud, obnoxious girl that happens to have a not-so-secret major crush on you? 

McKetty immediately goes, “Oh there’s somebody you can talk to!” So he got up to try to get Matt- I mean “Shanghai”- to come talk to me. SO. As Shanghai is power walking through the cafeteria to the boys’ lacrosse booth, McKetty is trying to keep up, saying, “Hey look Matt, it’s Erin, you should go talk to her. Look, look!” How. Embarrassing. 

Shanghai finally did glance over at me when he was writing his contact information for this year’s season. I sat there awkwardly. Shocker. He tried to pull the same stunt leaving, but of course I thought to say, “Hey Matt-” (McKetty committed to looking over more so than the other one did) “-get his schedule.” So that was what McKetty bugged him about on the way out.

I got the schedule, Shanghai walked off and didn’t stick around. I looked, with shaking hands, but alas, we had no classes together. I didn’t look at lunches. Might as well wait to be surprised.

Similar stunts happened in the office when I was talking to his friend about the classes we have together (a friend who is equally as weird, but one that I’m actually on speaking terms with). And then, when I was talking to McKetty’s mom and Shanghai was looking for someone, he finally made eye contact with me to ask if I’d seen the kid he was looking for. 

As I sit her girling over this, I hope he was looking me over and soaking me in for the first time since the second to last day of school last year. I hope he was hoping he wasn’t so shy or awkward or that he wished that we would get to know each other better. I hope that he wished he could kiss me or date me or talk to me about SOMETHING, but thought of nothing that we have in common except lacrosse (not all true. we have camp in common, but I’m not sure he knows that. I could talk for hours and learn a whole bunch of stuff from him, just on that one subject.

But sadly, none of that really came through except there was a weird expression in his eyes (I’m not one of those girls who thinks she can tell how a guy is feeling or what he is thinking by his eyes) that was nervous about what he was seeing or something. I don’t know. And maybe I never will. But for now, he is just a figment of my far and distant imagination. And the distance he is away seems like he is in a complete other universe or galaxy, one that is much different from mine, but with similar properties that could come together in an awesome and truly spectacular way. 

Enough girling. Hit the sack.

I think I’m Figuring Myself Out. Maybe.

So, I have a sort of story to share. I am not the nicest person. Or hopefully I was and am nicer than I used to be, because before, I was a downright bitch. In middle school, first day of the sixth grade, I started a friendship with this girl, Meaghan. For sixth grade, I was in a sort of girl foursome (not sexually, pervert.) with her and two other girls. It was one of my favorite years of school. Then seventh grade hit and two of the girls got switched to different classes, but not Meaghan. We were together in a class that didn’t get mixed up or changed (except for additions) for the next two years. 

Let the fun times begin. Basically, a short, not at all boring drawn out version is that I liked a guy, did stupid middle school things (like write songs about him. Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.) concerning him, made a bad impression on his (what’s a word that sums up narrow minded, evil, hypocritical, bitch? Oh yeah, her name) “best friend”, posted that he was self-centered a year later, fought with him and got over it, then was publicly humiliated for all that is listed above (including being called fat), and then left out to hung by everyone.
Except Meaghan, because she’s “such a good friend”.
And here’s a summary of my friendship with her, written to my soul sister, Grace:

So there was this girl in middle school that I became super best friends with in sixth grade. We had two other friends, but they switched classes in seventh grade.
At Landon, we were stuck with the same class all day, everyday, all year. So I saw her all that time. It was a small class and it super uberly sucked after a while.
The reason it sucked:
She was (and most likely still is) a slutty attention whore who is a bitch to everyone and wants everyone to pity her, but could care less about everyone else.
I’m bringing this up because I was just complaining about her to my mom about how she’s pregnant now and everything and she was the reason that I wanted pretty much nothing to do with my middle school life anymore and my mom’s response was, “That’s because you weren’t happy.”
For some reason, hearing that said and the problem of middle school stated outright like that kind of made me almost cry, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she was right.
Meaghan was a terrible friend to me. She would let people (like Riley Bean and his little posse) talk s*** about me to her and she wouldn’t even defend me. She told me I was mean and only complained about her life and never let me tell her about mine. Everyone had to pay attention to her and she pretty much asked people to cast me off like an outsider.

She would tell me I was mean and let her boyfriend tell me I was fat or a lesbian or a suck up or a whore or ugly or a terrible person or undesirable by anyone pretty much everyday of my life. And now that I think about it, I’m starting to realize that I believed every word, and still believe some of it and that is why I’m such a freaking girl about everything now because I used to be motivated and always happy and nice and I used to love everyone and want to be everyone’s friend.

But because of how she acted and because of how she allowed others to talk about me (and herself to talk about me) without trying to defend me, I became mean and cruel and shallow and hurtful and hurt and alone.

And now I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it or why I keep crying about it or why I’m letting this or anything thing else that bothers me bother me.
This is why I’m a pussy and have self-esteem problems and everything, and even this sounds shallow and stupid blaming one person, but for some reason, I feel like it is her fault and I feel as though she tore me down and made me who I think I am.
And now I don’t know what will make things better.
I have better friends who actually like me and I’m at a place where I feel I belong and people will accept me, whether or not they actually like me.
I just don’t even know why this is making me upset.
It also makes me scared to go to Stanton/Paxon games because last time I was there he screamed that I had a fat ass and she came up and said something stupid to me and I was with my new friends wanting to kill them and myself I was so hurt and mortified.

I typed this after a conversation with my mom about her and why I wanted to abandon anything that reminded me of my middle school years. My mom’s response: “It’s because you weren’t happy.” 
For some reason, this explanation for all of my pain and attitude changes and walls that I had built and defenses I had created, made sense. And it hurt that I knew why.

Most problems are solved by identification. Alcoholism by admitting there’s a problem; tumors, knowing that they’re cancer; and bad grades, once a disability is recognized. Well the tumor that had affected my whole life and my whole self had been identified, but even though I knew what the problem with myself was, it still hurt to know that it was there and exactly what had caused it.

I told my friend Grace everything that had happened and told her that I’d figured out why I wasn’t the “kick-ass Erin” that she had once been friends with. It was because of PTSD. But not from one traumatic event, as the name would imply. It was because of the damage one girl, who was supposedly my friend, caused.

So my friend Grace, being the PK she was, told me this.

It should bother you. I think it’s God’s way of giving you a wake up call and starting over. I think you need to start praying, start forgiving and be forgiven. Start connecting with God more. 

So there it was, the surgery and prescription that is meant to save me. The only problem is, this is a very difficult order to fill, seeing as I hadn’t connected to God since… really since being in the middle of this mess in the seventh grade. The motions were there, but never the results.

I know, I know. I’m whining. All I have to do is go to the top of this letter and write “Dear God”. But I don’t want to. God, I’m sure, is smart enough to figure out that this letter is intended for Him. Who else would I be talking to?

Oh, that’s right, the imaginary Matty in my life who is going to find me and rescue me.

Well now. This is my rant for this evening. What more can I say about the bitch that ruined my life, except that I hope her kid doesn’t turn out like her and the rest of her crazy-ass family?

And if she, or whomever is mentioned in this blog, finds it, do what you will to me and know, one day, you’ll make a great college essay about overcoming obstacles and difficult people. You could also make me a best selling author. And even then, the more intelligent folks would be rooting for me. Just something to think about…


Literature takes you places. Where do you want to go first?

The crossroads I wish I could pass.


Literature takes you places. Where do you want to go first?

The crossroads I wish I could pass.

I am emulator. Read me type.

Placing my hand on my Bible (figuratively), I promise not to act like a whiny, “poor me” teenager. I understand that the title of this blog may be… well, whiny, but I will not be. Maybe. 

I have a lot of friends who like to talk on with no real end, and I strongly believe there is a reason for that. What that reason is, I can’t say. For now, I’m going to write.

Jenna Hamilton is now officially one of my favorite fictional characters. And what do you do when you have a character you adore? You sign up onto an extremely public site under a slightly obscure name that is not connected to your Facebook account and you emulate them.

Welcome to my new tumblr. Day 1.