Sunday, November 30, 2008

My boyfriend.

I'm so sick of the question, "Do you have a boyfriend?" No. I don't. Which should be enough, but then inevitably, it comes: "Why?" Here's why.

First and foremost, I am seventeen years old. I am in high school! Now, I know that people will say, "well, I know some high school sweethearts..." Right. You know maybe one or two couples. But really, in the grand scheme of things, most people meet their spoouses in college or even later. And I know that some high school couples date for years- and I have seen the damage it can do to their lives. They get obsessed and lose their friends, time with their families, and the high school experience. Um, no thanks. There will be plenty of that when I'm, you know, MARRIED. I'm not saying that all high school couples are like this, but a lot are, and I'm not willing to do that.

Another thing is that I've always said that I won't date anyone until I meet someone I really want to date. Sounds simple, right? Not really. My problem is that I start talking to a guy, and halfway through, I'm like, "" And so I stop. Maybe it's fear of commitment, I don't know. And I want to know the person I'm going to date befopre I start dating them. I don't want to find out stuff I should have known before after. I want to know that a relationship has possibility of being long-term and mattering, not just a three-week fling. So far, I've only felt that way once, and it didn't work out, anyway.

I'm not going to date someone just to "have a boyfriend." I like to think that if I just wanted a boyfriend, I could probably get one, but the point of dating is to find someone you want to spend your life with (eventually), not to have someone to accompany you to parties or make out with. The what my girlfriends and male friends with benefits are for. Kidding. Kind of. Anyway, if every girl felt that way, I guarantee you that like 70% of high school relationships wouldn't exist anymore.

Basically, I'm still working on who the heck I am- I'm having fun and being a kid and not worrying about crap that I'm going to have to worry about for the rest of my life. And I'm getting ready to move away- what's the point in starting something that I'd have to say goodbye to? It's just not worth it to me right now. I know that one day I'll meet the guy that takes my breath away and laughs at my jokes about kleenex, and feels exactly the same way about me that I do about him. I know that God has that someone waiting for me. It will probably take me a few mishaps to get there, but whether it's going to be in 5 years or 20, I'm waiting, and I'm not settling. Duh. I don't settle.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

People, let me tell you 'bout my best friends...

Happy Thanksgiving! In about twenty minutes, I'll leave to go to my grandmother's where one (weird) half of my family is gathered, and I'll be very, very thankful for (most of) them. Then, I'll come back to my house where the other (sometimes just as weird) half of my family will eat and laugh together. Ah, joy. I'm thankful- very thankful- for my family. Most of them.

But what I'm most thankful for today, this Thanksgiving, is my friends, and I didn't wake up thinking that way.Actually, a text message woke me up. Followed by a phone call from my best friend, interrupted by another text message, all wishing me Happy Thanksgiving. That was before 9 o'clock, too. By 10:30, I'd gotten at least ten texts and two phone calls, simply wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and saying, "hey, thanks for being my friend." Talk about feeling loved! As for my family, we kind of mumbled Happy Thanksgiving as we poured our coffee, and I certainly didn't receive any phone calls from them- not even my dad, who doesn't even know I'll see him at my grandma's, since I unexpectantly decided last night to go. Thanks, Dad!

I guess it just made me realize that I am surrounded by a GREAT group of people, including my incredible best friend and several close friends that mean the world to me. And, some of my family is included in that statement :) And I guess it shows that friends really are the family you choose for yourself.

Sunday, November 23, 2008


I heard this song on the radio tonight. Watching the video is pretty hardbreaking, too. Don't you just wanna say...bless her heart? I love the part that says, "we sell the beauty but destroy the girl." I doubt that Britney Spears is the only one who goes through this; in fact, I bet we know more than one girl who feels this way that we actually know. She's the girl in the backseat of the truck with the guy whose name she doesn't know. The one who started the rumor about you because she's insecure about herself. She sits at your lunch table. Think about it after you watch Britney's video.

Saturday, November 22, 2008


I can't make her hate him. I guess I don't, because he gave her what she needed, which was closure for her and the baby. But when I was talking to my best friend about first-love-who-did-bad-things with whom she's recently had contact with, I started thinking about unconditional love again. Is it? Well, she won't tell me, and I know it's none of my business until she does, and anyway that's not really what I'm concerned with. I called him kudzu, because it seems like we can't get rid of him... I think he's gone and somehow he creeps back into her life. I'm scared he'll hurt her, because I'm scared her heart will always be vulnerable to him. I guess that's my unconditional love point.

Anyway, i was thinking about my own case of kudzu, who I've run into recently. It's the same thing; I think he's gone, and I turn around and he is there. Literally, actually. Right behind me on the bleachers. Tonight, after I left my best friend's house and her major case of denial to me, I took a drive through an old very familar neighborhood, and I noticed his light was on. For a minute, I looked down that path I've been on time and time again, and I forced myself to back up, or actully, to keep moving forward. Because kudzu isn't pretty. It's annoying. And it serves no good purpose. And I'm looking for a rose bush, dang it- even though it'll have thorns, it will be beautiful anyway. But...can we ever get away from those ghosts? Will we always be these weak little in-love girls when it comes to these guys? or will we kill the kudzu? I'm hoping fo the latter, but he found his way into my pre-cal class next semester and what's-his-face texted her, so...i don't know.

Friday, November 21, 2008


i'm so mad. thinking about it, it's stupid and I know that, but I'm mad anyway. can't we just grow up?!

I wish my best friend were awake, even though she's gonna tell me it's stupid.

because i'm mad.


my mood is diminishing and backsliding and going down, down, down. and i know why, and it's sad.

The Little Things

The little things matter to me. A lot. When my best friend gets me a card, I save it and read it when I feel upset or whatever. When my sister-in-law/mom/caregiver/guardian does anything motherly, I remember it. Last night, I went to Wal-Mart and she called me and asked me to please park close and call her when I got in the store, in light of some violence there recently. I laughed it off and said okay, but it meant a lot that she cared. Because it's something a mom would say to her kid.

I don't get that a lot. This is not a please-feel-sorry-for-me post or story, but it's a fact. I don't live with my parents, I live with my brother and sister-in-law. My dad, who lives approximately seven minutes away, talks to me, on average, about twice a month, usually to ask me to take my little sister home after church. My mom's dead. So the stuff a lot of people take for granted- the mom stuff that they get- I don't. It's little things, but I remember it.

For the most part, I am full of acceptance for my situation, and I realize I am very, very lucky for having them to take me in when I was faced with living a very different life than the one they gave me. I miss my mom fiercely, but I accept she is gone. I miss my dad, too, but I accept that he's who he is and is not gonna change. For the most part. But lately, I've been having these milestones- turning 16, senior pictures, senior year, and it's getting bittersweet. Some times when I call L to tell her something, a little part of me wishes I could call my mom and hear what she would have to say about it. I just want to hear that she would be proud of me, the way L is when my niece or nephew do something. I get it. I'm not their kid. I get it! But seeing it is so hard. Watching them get what I wish I had is so hard. Because it's right there, all the time. So when I get a piece of it, a glimpse of what it would have felt like- I remember it.

Even though some of me just wants that feeling, a lot of it is that I want her. I don't want a mom, I want my mom. I want her to roll her eyes and tell me I am just like her. I want to be like her. Christmas is coming, and I'm really excited. I love Christmas! But that morning, I'll be slightly off ease. For a minute, I'll remember that although I've spent the last four Christmases with them, I'm really not a part of that perfect picture family. It's them and it's me, and mostly I can't tell the difference, but there are flashes where I feel it. And so when we walk into the living room, I'll smile and laugh and mostly be totally into exactly what we're doing. But then I'll remember, for a second, who's missing. And it will hurt. It will be bittersweet. But L will tell me to hurry and get by the fireplace for the picture, a little thing. But I'll remember.

Thursday, November 20, 2008


As if I didn't already feel bad enough about it, I got my ACT scores in the mail today. As if I needed it in print after seeing it on the Internet! Yeah, after somewhat recovering, I had to open the envelope and see the whole thing all over again. It's not really the score, even though I was hoping for better, it's that I didn't improve. My sister will say that it's because my math went down, and I haven't taken math in a year, and wow! look at that English, but really, I'm disappointed in myself.

I should have gotten better.

And now, it's not good enough for college.

Unconditional Love

Watching Eliot's video and reading his blog yesterday got me thinking about unconditional love. Matt and Ginny certainly showed it. To them, Eliot was perfect. In fact, Ginny talks about how she loved his partial ear, his webbed feet, his feeding tubes. To the world, those were imperfections, but not to Matt and Ginny. They were just part of who Eliot was- and they loved Eliot for exactly who he was. Unconditionally.

So anyway, it got me thinking about what unconditional love is. And how it's in my life. I can say with certainty that I feel it. For my mother, firstly. She did some things that I can't even tell my best friend, things that my family has never even discussed, but they don't matter too much. They disappoint me, but I love her so much anyway. It got me thinking about one of my sisters, one with whom I was very, very close. She betrayed me time and time again. And I would be angry. But then, she would say she was sorry. And because I love her so, so much, I would forgive. That's a big part of this unconditionally thing. And then, inevitably, she would hurt me again. I'm hurt now, because of her, but I still miss her tremendously. And if she came to me, and asked me to forgive her, I would. Because I will always love her that much.

I also thought about when this love isn't. I like to think my mother and my sister have the same love for me that I have for them, but I can't be sure right now. My father is a different story. Through his actions, he's plainly shown me that his love has conditions- e.g., love the person I love and I will love you. If you can't, I'm sorry. I can't love you as much. I have some friends that recently broke up after several years of dating. If you would have asked them, they would have said that their love was unconditional. No matter what, they were going to love each other. Maybe they still love each other, but there were conditions that caused the love to quit a little- a lot probably- and so now, they don't date. I'm not saying they didn't love each other, but unconditionally means, when it's bad- when something happens that disappoints the hell out of you, that makes your heart hurt- you're there anyway. I don't think one chooses to unconditionally love, because sometimes I wish I could hate my mother for messing up my life for so long, and because I'll never be the same because of it. But I can't, not even a little.

I was thinking about all of this late, and I was interrupted by my best friend, who texted me. It was late, but I got up and talked anyway. This guy, who she had loved for a very long time, and who had hurt her so very much, wanted to talk to her about something she went through, where she needed him. And he wasn't there. The love that is in me for her roared- how dare he? I swore to her, and I'll swear again, that if he makes one move to hurt her again, I will punch him, or find somebody that will, because I love her unconditionally. I love her even when she calls when I'm sleeping, or when we're fighting, or when she needs me to do a favor, and I would do anything for her. There aren't conditions to that. It's not, "I love you between 8 a.m. and 9 p.m. because I've got to get to sleep." It's love that I can't help.

She wasn't nearly as angry at him for talking to her as I was. (If I told you what he'd did to her, you'd want to punch him, too). Once, when she was still madly in love with him, even after he did this bad thing, she told me, "I can't be mad at him like you can. I can't yell at him like that." Why couldn't she? Because she loved him- unconditionally. He was a jerk, in every sense of the word, but she couldn't make herself unlove him- until he did something to someone she loved more. Did she talk to him last night because she loved him? I don't know. She'll read this, I'm sure, and roll her eyes, but maybe there's something there. After all, he was her first love. I know she'd never get back together with him or anything, but they had a really strong bond. But after we hung up, I texted her and reminded her that I was here. I was wherever she was, or wherever she needed me because I love her. She knew that already though.

The thing is, as much love as I have for these people, I get it in return from so many. Even when I don't recognize it. And it's unconditional. It's the "okay, you messed up, but here I am anyway, even though I'm mad" kind of love. It's the even though I'm incredibly hurt kind of love. And like Matt and Ginny did- I'm gonna celebrate it.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Fitting In

I hate when people say that they don't fit in and then just succumb to that. They become outcasts- that's right, become- because they think they have to. You don't have to, and you don't necessarily have to change a whole lot to "fit in," either. You're not born an outcast. You just have to realize that although it may be wrong, if you make yourself weirder, people are going to see you as, well, weird. Do people want to hang out with a weird person? No. That's the facts. So you don't have any friends, and you whine about how you don't fit in and nobody likes you, but sorry- it's your fault.

Everybody sheds such bad light on "fitting in" like it's the worst thing, but secretly, everyone wants to do it. It's like plastic surgery. You say you don't care about it and would never do it (and your perky boobs are simply because you were born that way), but you secretly envy those who have botox, don't you? Everyone wants to fit in; it's human nature. So stop acting like it's a bad thing to want to be accepted. It's not.

I want to fit in. But the thing is, I don't want to fit in just anywhere. And I don't want to fit into a cookie cutter mold of who I should be. I want to fit in exactly where I belong, where my edges are a little jagged and crooked and quirky, because I am. I have a ridiculously odd laugh, and sometimes I talk way too much and too loud and say all the wrong things. Sometimes Dolly Parton calls my forehead and asks for her boob back, and sometimes my hair is not totally straight or not totally curly and it really doesn't know what's going on. The thing is, my friends love me the way I am- sometimes they tell me to shut up because I'm annoying, and sometimes my best friend tells me to put my hair into a ponytail or actually that she got Dolly's message. But I found my group where I fit in. If you're willing to look, to put yourself out there, to be normal enough at first, because human nature looks for that, then everyone can find theirs.

And to those of you who say you can't- you're wrong. And you're settling.

99 Balloons

Here's Eilot's video.

I watched it twice.


I just read another blog, one more significant and much more updated and attended to than this one.
It was a blog about Eliot Mooney's life, a little boy with Trisomy 18 who lived for 99 days. Although he didn't even make it to the three-digit mark, he impacted the lives of his parents, as well as many, many, many other people. He impacted me, as did Ginny and Matt, with their reliance on Christ throughout the life-and death- of their son. Read about Eliot through his parents' amazing words at Eliot- 99 Balloons.

If you're wondering how the college search is going, it's, um...not. I sent in my applications to my three top choices: Vanderbilt University, Birmingham-Southern College, and The University of Alabama (in that order). Fingers are crossed and I am pleading with God that my 30 ACT (I'm 2 for 2 with a 30 both times) and my 4.0 (may increase thanks to dual enrollment!) GPA are enough to get somebody to give me some money to go. Otherwise, I'm SOL.

Other news is simply that this is November, and I've only got until May to be a kid. Only until May with my best friend, my parents, my yearbook (kidding. it's everyone's yearbook). So the days are ticking until I start the next chapter.