Imperfection, Chapter 1

And if you're thinking about changing my direction-
Don't mess with imperfection.
--Imperfection, Saving Jane

"Hellllllloooooooo, Anicca Hill! It's 7:30 Tuesday morning and a beatiful 85 degrees outside. Time to wake up and smell the summer!"

My eyes snapped halfway open, like in a horror movie. I didn't want to wake up and smell the summer. I wanted to sleep. I karate-chopped it weakly. No luck. The announcer blared on, the noise filling my small bedroom.

So I did the only logical thing.

I ripped it out of the wall and opened my window.

I dangled it out of the window by the cord as the theme song played (my mom made me get a clock with backup batteries after it was "mysteriously" pulled out of my wall too many times), looking for some sign that i shouldnt drop it.

"Today we'll be playing a 6-hour marathon of disco hits, followed by the greatest songs of Phil Collins!"

Bombs away.

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I didnt want to wake up and smell the summer.

My summer smelled like the rest of my year.

Like cake.

I live in a town called Annica Hill on a street known unofficially as The Wedding Walk by everyone who lives around here. The tourists and Couples call it "Rose Blossom Lane." Ew.

The town is named for, you guessed it, the gigantic hill just where all the sidewalks stop. One second you're walking on pavement, and the next it's grass. It's great for sledding and leaf-pile-jumping during winter and fall, but in summer and spring, it (like the entire town but especially Wedding Walk) is lousy with theatrical Couples, crying and saying "You're ruining my perfect day!" while the photographer snips at kids and chases them away.

Couples, noun. A pair of people, commonly one male and one female, who are engaged or married and totally disgusting together. They often sit in little cafe's and gaze into each other's eyes saying revolting things like "I love you, snookums." "No, I love YOU, honey bunches." "I love you more, sweet pea." "No, I love YOU more, teddy bear." Can also apply to extreme cases of people who are just dating and start every sentance with "My girl/boyfriend" and bore everyone with every detail of their signifigant other's traits. Avoid at all costs.

Wedding Walk is named this because of how it is set up: A photography place, a dress store, the bakery that my dad owns, a catery, this really odd-type tailor/dry-cleaners/tux rental thing, a card store, and a decoration place. Everyone lives in the apartment above their store besides the very frowned-upon photography people. It all ends with this stretch that's officially another street that has a reception-type place at the very beginning. Across the road is the building that doubles as a synogouge and a church and pretty much anything else. It's ridiculous.

Summer and spring are the busiest because of the weather. This is bad for two reasons. 1.) When I'm getting ready for finals, i have to keep running downstairs and checking that that batch of dessert whatevers arent burning to a crisp. 2.) Once i'm actually DONE with the stress of school and finals, i still have to help my parents with the store and, on days when the wedding is going on, watch all of the little kids on the street with my best friend Melissa. That's not all that bad because we can get away from the bakery (me) and the dress store (her) and hand out at the park and on the hill. We actually started putting up fliers for a wedding babysitting service. That's where we made the mistake. One day these wedding people started slyly (or so they thought) dumping their bratty kids into the mix. Which actually turned out not to be so bad after a while, because we were allowed to charge them. My mom has issues with A) Our taking money from them and B) Our not-so-organized-to-the-human-eye system of how we charge them (based on brattiness of kid, rudeness of parent, if the kid starts a fight, sobriety of parent at pickup time, etc.). But what doesnt my mom have issues with?

Today it was the fact that as Benny, one of the caterers, was sweeping the sidewalk, like he always does when there will most likely be Couples around, he found the crumbled remains or an alarm clock on the ground.

"That clock cost money, Catarina Julianne," she snapped at me as i walked downstairs into the store wearing the uniform (jean shorts, black t-shirts, pink apron) and tying back my hair. "You're paying for that with whatever comission you get today."

I sighed and blew my overlong bangs out of my face. "Mom,what other 15-yer-old girl do you know who has to wake up early on the first day of summer? Can you blame me?"

The answer written across her face was a resounding "Yes."

"We have a big deal wedding coming up in three days, and this cake is stressing me out enough without your theatrics," she said. "Go back and make those donuts that those people wanted."

I stared at the piece of paper she had handed me. "Creme-flilled?"

"Right."

"And...you want ME to do this?"

My mother threw her hands up in the air. "Catarina Julianne, I don't have TIME for this. Your father is on a delivery, and they will throw a fit if they don't have their...their darn donuts!"

What told me to back off: Darn is the closest that my mom ever comes to cursing. Also the fact that she was using my entire full name when i have serious violent tendancies toward anyone who calls me Catarina instead of Catie.

So i went in the back and started to make the stupid things. Now, despite what most people might think, i am not automatically a master baker just because my mom and dad are really good at it. Cake is fine. I can do the cake. I can even decorate the cake. Normal donuts are fine as well, along with cookies. But nothing as complicated and creme-filled donuts. Stop laughing! It's actually really complicated! *smashes chair over laughing person's head* There, that's better.

Anyways, it went rather well until the end, when i noticed that one of them was oozing the yellow creme. I just couldnt tell where it was coming from.

So, since I am an idiot, I put on a pair of those disposable plastic gloves, picked it up, wiped the creme off of the outside, and squeezed.

Bam. The entire thing exploded, sending waves of yellow liquidated sugar over my hands, not to mention that it splattered all over my hair and face.

For a second i just stared at it in shock. Then I started to laugh like a crazy person.

The bell on the door rang at that exact moment. Of course.

I assumed that it was a neighbor coming to confier with my mom about the Baum wedding, who would laugh, or my dad coming back from his deliver, who would laugh harder. So i ran out, still lauging, still covered with donut guts.

Then i saw who it was, and stopped laughing.

A Couple.

The Baums, to be precise.

And behind them was a guy.

A guy i didnt recognize, to be precise.

A guy who wasn't actually bad-looking, but staring at me like i was a moron, to be precise...er.

I opened my mouth, wanting to come up with A) a snappy comeback to show them that i wasnt totally mentally deficient or B) and apology to show the Baums that i wasnt going to do the same thing to their cake.

"Hi, welcome to Stewart's Baked Goods and Confections. How may I help you?"

Explain

I have all of Chapters 1 and 2 of Imperfection in various school notebooks and binders.

There are two things stopping me from posting them.

One is the fact that i have been in an odd place recently. I've just wanted to sleep, and i've been doing weird things. Like not having enough common sense to let go of the Snapple when Glen was pulling on it and falling from one of the stairs in the band room down to the other one, flat on my face, and only listening to my music really quiet but mostly feeling like i want all of the noise to shut up and to shove my head under a pillow.

The second is that no one comments on my blog anymore. I'm not sure if i want to go to the trouble to actually post my story if no one is even going to read it.

So tell me what to do, and i'll probably do it.

That's all, i guess

New Blog Story!!! Eeeeeeeee!!

That's the title. Now you know what i was going on about when i talked about Scrabble tiles. In fact, those are two of the little Scrabble word holder dealios. If you look you can see the line.

I actually havent written any of it yet. I just have it in my head. So far i know that the girl has black hair, twin older sisters, she works in a pastry shop next to a wedding store and the sentance "There's my little used car salesman" appears once.

And now, for randomness.

ALI'S LIST OF SONGS SHE WOULD PUT IN A MOVIE:

Fell in Love With a Girl by the White Stripes

Shimmy Shimmy Quarter Turn by Hellogoodbye. would make a really good opening song.

Growing on Me by The Darkness. The best montage song ever.

Your Honor by Regina Spektor and Kill Kenada. I don't care if you hate it; it still rocks.

City of Love by Persephone's Bees. The one from the Razr commercial.

Such Great Heights by The Postal Service. The Iron and Wine version is a better all-around song, but way too slow/stoner for a movie.

Uh Oh Hello by Elefant. Another great opening song.

Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson. I know a lot of people think that she's crap, but i totally heart this song. Good for one of those corny, slo-mo entrences.

Lights and Sounds by Yellowcard. I don't know where it would fit in, but it has to. It's awesome.

Hands Open by Snow Patrol. So much less emo than Run or Chasing Cars.

Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve. Weird band name, but it's good for any scene where people are like, "I LOVE YOU!" Of course in my movie they would get hit by a car directly afterwards. But that doesnt mean that the song isnt good!

Imperfection by Saving Jane. Yes, this is where i got the name of my blog story from. a very good opening song.

There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet by Panic! At the Disco. Whew! That tired me out just typing it. And that is actually the name of the song. It seems like something that someone would dance with in one of those huge dance scenes where everyone automatically does the same dance without any sort of visible planning.

Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung. Just awesome.

Put Your Records On by Corrine Bailey Rae. Again, awesome.

So how many of those have you actually heard of?

Contradictions

That's my little bro, flying. Like nacho, apparently. Okay, i'll go with it.

The Pussycat Dolls is a group of singers who were totally skinny exotic dancers living in Vegas or wherever who one day suddenly discovered, "Lyke, OMG, we can sing!"

Life is so not fair.

Anyways, they made some "music" and put it on an "album" and got on the "Top 40 Chart" "way more than it was necessary", and got "played" on the "radio" "all the time", and were "constantly plastered all over TV in skimpy outfits, dancing and generally setting back women a hundred years".

So then i turn on VH1. The show was of the musical countdown variety. The Pussycat Dolls were doing the whole music video thing. They went on a subway and pole danced for a while and were wearing teeny little outfits...all while telling this guy that they're not like these other b****es and they don't need his money so stop calling them and they don't like his cadillac...but it is a nice color.

That made me scream at the screen.

Another example of contradictions? What happened to me yesterday. IM for le details.

Fell In Love With A *Insert Gender Here*

I have the live acoustic version of the song "Fell In Love With a Boy" by Joss Stone. Then I have "Fell In Love With a Girl" by The White Stripes. Make up your mind, people. I also just bought that song "Hey Baby" by No Doubt. Ya know, the one that's way overused in all movies when someone glamourous is making a huge entrance, which is a little ironic cuz if you listen to the song, the lyrics don't match that at all. At least, from what i could tell. Other songs purchased: Shimmy Shimmy Quarter Turn by Hellogoodbye (pretty good) and Honestly by Cartel (okay).

Read post entitled "Anger" below.

And that means you, Voah.

Anger

I want to kick someone.

I really, really do.

I do not do anonymous blogs. I'm not Bluecandy6. And yet people persist in thinking this.

It's getting really annoying.

The Light Eternal *vomits*

I hate the name of this song. That right there tho is the cool part where the flute 1's goes e flat e flat e flat e flat then the other flute 1's go d d d d d d d and then most flut 2's go some other note, and me and molly do f sharp since we're different like that! Tim photoshopped that picture, and heeeere it is, in all of it's awesomeness:

So.

Today my brother had Cameron sleep over. Actually, i guess that would be yesterday. But he's still here. So now it's today.

Anyways.

Will jumped on me from on top of a couch. It hurt, considering that i was on the floor and he jumped like a stage dive from a good distance above me.

Gahh.

I really so want to write a blog story. Another one, i mean. But i can't think of anything to write about. I have the first scene sitting here in my head, but i don't know if i should materialize it or not. I also have to think of a title. Maybe I'll do "I Want Candy" cuz that's the song i was listening to when i got the idea. But i tried, and I Want Candy won't fit onto a scrabble thing!! I know that you have no clue what i'm talking about. But just go with it.

Yeah, that's pretty much it.

**EDIT**



Pretty much, here's what happened: Cameron and will were playing Scrabble. Cameron decided that the word "nag" was spelled with a K. He seriously wouldnt give up. Then i said "Oh, and you spelled "liar" wrong" and then he got mad.

Just had to post that, along with the insane music above. And the fact that i am so glad that we don't have school today. Because i do NOT need newspaper class today. Or the bus. I'm really beginning to dislike the bus. We have a lot of jocks and a lot of popular kids, so the noise gets so loud that even my iPod can't drown it out anymore. The morning is a little better, but there are still all these guys doing bad South Park impressions. Or now actually they do bad Borat impressions.

Another thing i can't stand is gym. I'm never going be athletic. Or a gym teacher. Or a gym...nest. Okay, i'm done.

Rush

This is a picture that i took without looking in the hallways of school.

I just watched Bend It Like Beckham. I've seen it twice but that was like two or something years ago so i didnt remember much and i was dancing to the songs and no not DANCING dancing just running around. But it was a Bollywood movie, meaning that there were tons of accents: Scottish, German, Indian, English, etc., all ranging from mild to extremely heavy. that wasnt very much of a problem for me, but my sister cannot understand accents at all, so every five minutes she would say, "Ali, what did they say? What does that mean?" until my head went explode.

So oui.

The Aqua-Po

I wish i could say that i somehow Photoshopped that onto the bottle.

But no. It is a product of pure human stupidity...that i had nothing to do with.

I'm writing this before i do stuff. Like homework.

The VOA has blacklisted "me". But he's not right, so i don't care. Yesh...things.

Well, not much to talk about now.

Besides...nothing!

VOA/Voah/This Is So Confusing

I don't really know a lot about this guy, but so many people have done a Voah post (tim's done TWO and sam has a story!!) that i felt that i should.

Or wait. Didnt I read somewhere that he wanted to be called VOA? I'll just stick with that, since Voah sounds like Noah and Noah sounds like fists hitting Noah's face.

ANYWAYS.

What i realized about all those VOA posts? They were all by dudes, unless there's a girl VOA-poster out there. If so, my apologies. If not, i wanted to be the first girl to get at this whole VOA mystery.

When the VOA came to the world of blogging, he didnt seem all that important. People figured that he would reveal himself soon enough and life would go back to normal.

But then something revolutionary happened. Everyone realized that VOA was not an attention-craving type. He was not about to come out to the world and say, "My name is _____". And that was what started it all. The human need for information.

You could also call it being nosy.

But I'm not one to judge.

Then people started having a lot of speculations about who it was (including me). Then they started mocking him (i didnt mock so much as think it was tim and try to annoy him). Then they started hero-worshipping him. That was when it got a little out of control. I don't know what the rest of you think, but i'm pretty sure that VOA wasnt looking for all this attention. It's not like he came out with a big splash, complete with trumpets and jazz hands. It was just one comment one day, a couple more another day.

Or maybe he was looking for it. Maybe this is all some huge convaluded scheme. The truth is that we may never know.

Then the snowball started rolling down the hill. It got bigger and bigger and bigger, and now VOA is almost a celebrity in his own right. And while we're on that point (not really though), who says that VOA isnt female? I actually always pictured him/her as a guy, but who knows, really. I'll just stick with him to make things less complicated.

Now, though, the snowball is at its biggest. My question is this: What is at the bottom of the hill? What will the snowball hit when the ground evens out?

And will we ever know who made the snowball in the first place?

Hiss List:

1. My hair. I got it cut. First it looked all flippish and odd but it was straight and semi-okay-looking. Now it looks like SPAZ out at the end and poofish.
2. Adults. They listen to nothing that you say ever. Ex: last night i went to my brother's friends house with my family. I had just eaten lunch, but the adults kept bugging me: Eat the pizza. Eat a quesadilla. Eat the cookie. So i had a piece of pizza and felt so awful for the rest of the night that i sat on a really uncomfortable bench and stared at a plastic bug for an hour and a half straight just to keep from throwing up.
3. Our government. My brother is nine, and he has identified himself as a Republican. Nine. Effing. Years. Old. I took a quiz and it said that i was liberal, but I'm 14! That's different!! Plus, i refrain from identifying myself as anything but "purple", because my entire family is pretty much Republican, which i don't get.
4. The total lack of AA batteries in our house. That one's self-explaintory.
5. The people obsessing over who MF is. Look, i'm not going to tell you, especially if A. You are male or B. You are my friend. Because i don't want to narrow it down at all, cuz then people can figure it out. i will not say yes, it was him, but that doesnt mean it wasnt. I will not say, no, it's not him, but that doesnt mean it is. Got it? Good.

Dreams #2

I was reading over a post about the strange dreams i had while at my grandma's house (written July 5, titled "Dreams") yesterday. Then i came back from marching band at midnight, fell into bed, and had the oddest dream. When i woke up, i wrote it all down in meticulous detail so i could analyze it later.

Basically it sums up as this: I drove down to my old neighborhood in Maryland with most of my friends, plus some random marching banders. Hee marching banders. Ran up to my old house with Molly and a male friend of mine and also Zoe. Zoe rang the bell and a guy came out and yelled at me because i had somehow picked up one of his flowerbeds (the entire flowerbed, these really fake pink and yellow flowers). He was wearing a pink shirt. There was a lot of pink, actually. Anyways. We went up and somehow got in a fight with the pink shirt guy and this nice guy who he was bossing around a lot over the car keys. Then Molly and Zoe disappeared, and it was just me and the male friend. The keys somehow got into all of these tubas and trumpet. Me and the male friend went, "It's a trap!" and ran away from the instruments cuz we thought they were going to explode (my dreams are very illogical). But then they didnt explode and we got the keys. Then we somehow ended up in an ice cream place, only all the ice cream was weird, chocolate and vanilla squares with some strawberry in bowls. MF (male friend) was sitting on a table, and we were talking to the nice guy, and all of a sudden i kissed him. Then he kissed me like five times. have i mentioned that i have no romantic interest in this guy AT ALL??!?!??! That was odd enough. But then i ended up walking around in school with Frances, only it was MIDDLE school, and i saw MF and smiled and started singing "Christmas Bells" from rent. Frances and i walked down the stairs of the school into my living room, where MF was sitting on the couch. I sat down with him, and there was a projector-type thing projecting my AIM buddy list onto the ceiling. So i laid down on the couch and looked at it, and there was a super long name i didnt recognize, but i thought it might be this guy in my study hall. I typed, "Who Are You?" and sent it to the long screenname. Then MF turned to me and said. "You already know who it is. Why are you asking?"

Then i woke up.

I know that was super long, but it was DISTURBING!! So now, to analyze...arg. I looked on the site and they have like nothing. Shouldnt "Pink" be a catagory? grrr. It was all just very very odd and the end probably meant something too.

Just In Case You Were Wondering.

This is Mandy.

Mandy, meet my readers.

Readers, Mandy.

She was the inspiration for my blog name change. Make sure to read the little subtitle thing. The name of the blog is "I Missed You...But My Aim Is Improving." I may just end up changing it alltogether so that people don't get creeped out.

There.

So just FYI, that is a quote from Mandy. In case you don't know, she is from the best cartoon ever, "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy." She has the best quotes. Like, ever.

Today, i am sick. I keep having these really odd stomach pains that make it hard for me to stand. It's like every time i breathe, something hurts. And that's getting really old, cuz breathing is just SLIGHTLY necessary.

I keep seeing all these commercials about that weird movie called "Borat" that the guys in my Algebra 1B class talk about when they're not doing bad South Park impressions. Now they're doing the accent. I think the director (sasha cohen, i think) is the same one who made Marie Antionette. She is SO cool. Anyways, this movie. It's filmed like a documentary, but the dude is fake. Also, you can't tell weather or not the people that the dude is talking to are actors or not. It's all quite confusing. And very sexist. And insulting.

And yet, strangley funny.

Also, i started writing a story for my cousin. It was supposed to be a christmas present. He's 12, so it's about superheros. Or it was supposed to be. Still is, too, but it got a little more...life like ish. So tell me if i should post the first part. It's a tad stupid but not as stupid as it could be.

Blog Story, P14: The Final Entry

Gotta do this quick, and then i am off to babysit and yell answers to the questions to Who Wants to be a Millionare. What's amusing? The bad hairstyles. What's more amusing? The way me and Leah, the 8 yr old who i'm babysitting, get more answers than the 35+ age people on the show.

Okay so...here comes the end.

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"But Bradley...I don't understand. Why don't you want to be with me?" the skinny woman with big brown hair sobbed.

"I'm no good for you, Victoria. I'm no good for anybody anymore." With that, the surfer-esque guy threw himself off of the cliff.

"BRADLEY!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

I laughed and clicked the power button on the remote. Most people probably wouldnt laugh at someone jumping into shark-infested waters to their immenent demise.

Then again, i am not most people.

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I had a thousand things to deal with after that day. Some were as trivialas just changing where i usually sat at lunch. Others were harder. Dodging the dirty looks given to me by the several ex-girlfriends of and girls who liked Eric. Telling my parents. Not telling Jess.

But it was worth it. HE was worth it.

It's not like he had been pining for me or anything. We annoyed the crap out of each other about 64% of the time. But in the end, it all worked out remarkably well.

I never did see Jess on Broadway. SHe came back in January with a list of things i had done wrong but she was going to forgive me for, being such a kind and generous person. I dropped the friendship right there.

Vanessa and I became better friends, and she started dating Tom from I-Skreem. They both seem to have...exotic taste buds. Vanessa herself took over the postition left by me. That's right, i finally quit. I'm working at the library now, where i can text-messege in peace.

My parents, unfortunatley, are still total workaholics. I;m still babysitting, but much less now that i go out with my musical friends a lot. Yup, i'm a drama geek, and it feels so good.

As for Luke, he backed off, pretty much. Besides a small incedent involving cornering me during lunch and my breaking a tray over his head. I'd rather not go into it. He dumped the blonde girl and now has a Flavor-of-the-Week policy. Rumor has it that Jess didnt take too kindly to this, and stayed in limbo for over three months after they broke up, texting and emailing him before making a public scene and "dumping" him in front of an entire Staples full of people. He reportedly dropped the 10-pack of highlighters he'd been buying in total shock.

And me? Well, things have been going pretty good so far. Eric and I fight, as i said before, but it's never serious. I can never put it better than Vanessa did one day at lunch while we were bickering: "You guys are like the most dysfunctional couple ever. And yet, you're strangely adorable. You're dysfunctiadorable."

It's spring now. Finals are right around the corner. I should probably be studying, but i'm not. I'm sitting in the treehouse in our backyard that my dad built me, back when he had time. It's getting dark now, hard to see.

There's no way that i could document everything that happened between that day in early September when i watched that soap opera to when Eric and i got together to now. There are so many blurry bits and pieces that drift away when i try to grab them and slep them down here in balck and white.

Because i've found that nothing is ever all black and white. Nothing is ever certain.

The best way to describe it, i guess, is how when I was hanging out with Eric a few months ago, I remembered something he had said months ago.

"Hey," I said to him, sitting up straight. "I thought this wasnt your genre."

"What?" He looked confused.

"Happy endings."

~THE END~

There Were Errors

I'm dead serious, that's what it said. It didnt even have the courtesy to blue-screen-of-death, fatal-error-9001 me. It just said "There Were Errors" and shut off. Grrr.

Blog Story, P13

Two times.

Just two more times, and it would all be over.

I wouldnt have to think about this play anymore.

I wouldnt have to avoid Eric anymore.

I wouldnt have to watch Eric avoid me anymore.

I wouldnt have to kiss him anymore onstage. Because i could feel the absoloute hate just pouring out of him.

But what was i supposed to do when he wouldnt even let me explain?

Just two more times.

I knew that my singing sucked. And it wasnt just the very subtle way Mr. Phillips asked me what the heck was wrong with my voice. I knew it couldnt be good because of how the entire time i was singing, i wasnt thinking about, "This is what Elphaba would do, and this is what she feels, and this is what's happening." I was thinking about Eric and Friday night and what an idiot i was.

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He leaned toward me slowly, closing his eyes.

This is it.

And it was that thought that sent my entire world spinning on its axis. My entire mind completley exploded into all of these crazy thoughts. This is Eric. How could this happen? He can't like me, he doesnt like me, all those times that i said it wasn't possible..i thought it was true, didnt i? That was the single constant fact in all of this. Luke, Jess, my entire screwed up family, my entire screwed up LIFE, he was always there, he was always Eric, and if this goes away then what am i going to have? And then i could feel him less than an inch away, and who knows what would have happened if a little part of me hadnt said But what if you like him?

NO.

I pushed him away by mistake. Honestly, there was no concious decision to do it, my arms just went out all of a sudden. He was so shocked that he fell back onto the grass. I was just as shocked as he was.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He didnt say anything, just sat there with his mouth hanging open. "But...we're...friends, Eric!" I wanted to grab the words out of the air and stuff them back into my mouth. It sounded so stupid. And then i made the colossal mistake of trying to explain. "It's just that...you were there and maybe i was too, but then i couldnt be because...he...you...i...I'm sorry."

His entire face had shut down. "Yeah, somebody always is."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

He stood up. "Do you really think you deserve an explanation? Every time we fight, it's never that serious. Someone is always sorry. But this time, no one is, and that's what different."

I had no idea what he meant. "But i am...I'm-"

"Forget it." He walked off into the bus circle, which was quickly filling up with cars. And i stood there, shivering, wondering what i had just done.

I finally walked off, completley dazed, and bumped into this huge mass of a person.

A really familiar mass.

"Watch it," Luke said, and brushed by me. Then he realized who he was talking to. "You think you can get away with punching me in the face like that, well-"

"Look, can you save the manaical rant for later, please? Seriously, some other time would be great. I'll pencil you in for Tuesday."

He followed my gaze to where Eric was getting into his mom's car and smirked. "You and that kid? Finally."

"What do you mean finally?" I asked. Just talking to him was annoying me. "You know what i mean. You and the other nerd kid. It's a perfect happy ending, riding off into the sunset on a computer or something. I got it way better."

Happy ending...

"Do NOT make me hit you again."

He smirked but backed away a step. "Everyone always knew he liked you, but i didnt know that he would ever actually go through with it. That Jeanette girl, she was hot."

I stomped on his foot with my witch boots and walked to the car.

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And now i was standing here, completley dreading going onstage with a new kind of fear. I knew that i had to do something. And then i felt myself shrinking again, backing into a corner and hiding.

Then i remembered something. When i was ten years old, i went to the lake with some family friends. One girl, Isabelle, was my age. The other girl, Tracy, was five. One portion of the lake was roped off for a dock. There were tons of people diving off, and i would have basically rather chewed my own arm off than jump into that freezing cold, deep water. There was no real danger; i was just scared. Isabelle whined at me and told me it was fine, it was fine, everyone else is doing it, see, and i could swim. Tracy called me a chicken and clucked and tried to push me in (she weighed about half as much as i did). None of it worked. I was completley determined to do it when I wanted to. All of the pushing and clucking and whining did nothing. And then the two of them jumped into the water. I thought, Why shouldnt I? and forced myself to stop thinking and forced my legs to jump off the dock.

The water was cold and deep, but the looks of shock on their faces when they climbed out of the lake and i wasnt there was worth it. And then, standing there on the stage, singing, i realized that all i had to do was stop thinking.

I sang the last note, as usual.

The curtains closed then opened, as usual.

I went out for my bow alone, then held hands with Eric on my left and Ryan (the wizard) on my right, as usual.

Now was when i was supposed to let go of Eric's hand.

He was supposed to stalk away immediatley.

As of latley, that was usual, too. But i didnt let go. He tried to walk away, and i pulled him back.

Stop thinking.

I tugged him down to my leval and kissed him full on the mouth.

So not as usual.

Right after i did it, there was a huge addrenalin rush that felt somewhat like a heart attack. Then i started thinking again by accident and tried to pull away, sure that he was going to push me back. But he didnt. He didnt. He pulled me back and kissed me again. And all i thought was, Oh...this.

And somehow, that was enough.

Everything was perfect...until i heard a loud whacking noise and Eric pulled away, rubbing the back of his head. From what i could tell, Mr. Phillips had hit him with one of the ruby slippers. "No PDA!" he yelled. "Maybe next time if your performance doesnt suck too much!" He then proceeded to tell us in graphic detail how bad we were.

But i wasnt listening, because everything had gotten better all of a sudden. I stopped caring that an insane teacher was screaming his huge head off at us, i stopped caring that Jess was pissed because i forgot to email her, and i stopped caring that Luke was going to come after me. For the first time since...well, forever, my head wasnt exploding with A) What had just happened B) What it could possibly mean C) What was going to happen next, and D) When is it going to turn bad. I just sat there and smiled and loved every minute of it.

Blog Story, P12

WARNING: Super shortness alert. The reason? I wrote part 13 before i wrote this one. This is just something that i should have put at the end of 11 but didnt. But it's technically still a part. Expect P13 out tomorrow.

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I walked out of the auditorium, laughing with Eric. I don't even think that i remember why anymore. It was a week since our little movies thing (don't you dare say a date), and things had almost regressed back to normal. But why did i choose that word regressed? It had GONE back to normal, because regressed makes it sound like what we had had before was bad. And it definatley wasnt. But...well, let me get to the part that you're concerned about.

The cars were lining up, trying to get out of the bus circle before the rush came, unaware that they had become part of the rush. I was wearing my Elphaba dress and the super-high-heel witch boots that make me taller than Eric (yay for 3 inch heels!). I scanned the freezing parking lot for my parent's car, but they were nowhere to be found. I was really cold in the thin dress, but i didnt dare mention it to Eric or he'd try to somehow get off the army coat thing that he was wearing and give it to me.

"Grrr, where are they?" I said, teeth chattering, jumping up and down and almost falling due to the boots.

"I think i see them over there," Eric said, pulling me over to the corner of the parking lot. No luck. They were nowhere. I leaned against a tree and tapped my foot, trying to keep warm. Eventually Eric started talking. I don't remember about what, besides this:

"Phillips seems to really hate your attempts at "romantic Fiyero," I said, laughing at the teacher's term.

"It's not my genre, the whole happy endings thing. I'm better at being cynical, personally."

"Yeah but..." I kicked a pebble across the lot. "Doesnt everybody sort of want that a little bit? I do...sort of." Why are you telling him this? "I know it's stupid, but..."

"Nah, i guess you're right." That was the last thing i expected him to say.

"Don't think it'll happen to me, though," I said, turning around.

All of a sudden he was really close to me.

"It could happen," he said quietly.

And then it happened.

He leaned toward me slowly, closing his eyes.

This is it.

A Little Stuff (WTM??) a.k.a pictures.

Remember the pointless water pot thing from the P 11? Well, it exists. Sitting right there on my fireplace, rountinley knocked over. It actually does make a noise loud enough to be heard through the walls.



This is what i was wearing while writing P9, 10 and 11. Purple lipstick and a Detroit Tigers baseball hat. It just makes me write better, even if it does look odd. This looked especially funny with what i was wearing yesterday, which was a skirt and boots. That hat gives me the worst hat hair ever.



A shot of my nail polish bag. Just thought it looked cool.

ARGH!!!! *kicks things*

okay.

so there used to be a crazy manaical type post here.

because i was pissed

and iTunes is ripping me off

and how Eric is a fictional character

but somehow sam actually calmed me down instead of making me madder

and i got off the crazy bitch train

sorry bout that.

P 11 is below.

Go read things.

Blog Story, P11

One day left. It was the middle of November, and there was only one day left until Wicked. Mr. Phillips was so stressed that he actually let us go home early.

On the way out, Eric was nervous. No, scratch that, he had been looking nervous for a while now. There would be these awkward silences every ten minutes. It was like, one second we were talking and laughing and the next it was like...nothing. He kept starting sentances with "Hey, do you....never mind," or "Are you....nothing."

I was in the middle of a very bad Squidward impression (my younger siblings are having a majorly negative impact on my intelligence) when he said, "Hey, do you want to go see a movie or somethingon Saturday?"

"Sure," I said, and then, because i'm clueless, "who else is coming?"

"Um, no one."

On the outside my reaction was this: A smile and "Oh, that's cool too." On the inside, i had completley freaked out. Was he asking me out? No, he couldnt be. We were friends, and i've gone to the movies alone with a friend tons of times. Yes, but those were all girls. You've only been in a group with him, and it was only that one time because all his other friends sang along to the songs and then you accidentally-on-purpose spilled buttered popcorn all over that girl with the big hair and she screamed like you had lit her sweater on fire and gave you evil looks and then you both agreed afterwards that going to movies, at least ones that were musicals, with his friends was a bad idea.

Still. It was ERIC we were talking about here. So, i concluded, it was impossible.

But...

Is it really?

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"Fiyero...! Oh, thanks a plenty, dearest. He's gone to fetch me a refreshment."

Eric came runing backstage. "Yeah, I'll fetch her something," he muttered in my ear. I laughed silently to avoid the dirty looks that Mr. Phillips had been giving me ever since i had tripped and (gasp) smudged my face makeup right before the first scene. But other than that "catastrophe" (not), the show was going pretty well.

"Elphaba, that's your cue! Move! Move!" I ran onstage and...well, i don't really remember much from the actual play, considering that i get this really great natural high from acting, and i can hardly remember anything afterwards. If i tried to describe it, you'd be like, "What was this girl on at the time?" so i'm not going to even bother. All i know is that at the end of the play we went out to take our bows and it felt really good, for a Woodland musical.

Also that I heard a very small but very loud voice yell "GO BEVERAGE!"

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"I told you didnt I? I told you! I knew it, i knew it, i knew it. Didnt i say that he liked you?" Vanessa ranted, bouncing up and down. It was a few minutes after the curtain had dropped, and a couple of people were trying to get her unstrapped from the wheelchair that she had to be in as Nessa. She kept falling out, so the set designers had to make a seiries of really complicated seatbelts to make sure that she stayed in place. Now they were looking like they wanted to strangle themselves, considering that after i told her about the whole eric thing she was now freaking out and bouncing and wiggling around and generally making their job 1000000x harder than it was before.

"I did say that he liked you," she continued.

"Stay still," grunted the senior who was trying to undo the wires on the back of the chair.

"I am staying still."

"Well, stay stiller."

"Stiller, as in Ben?"

"Not funny," I said.

"I know. But let me just say-" and she screamed loud enough to break the eardrums of every single person in the place. The stage crew guy stood up and yelled "Fine, you can just untangle yourself!"

Vanessa laughed and said, "Great. Help, please." I bent down and tried to figure out how high on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being Mr. Rodgers, 10 being the guys in Guns&Roses) the stage crew had been when they thought of this "brilliant" idea. "So what movie are you seeing?"

"I have no idea, but i hope it's not a musical."

"Why?"

"Long story." I found the last harness thing and unclipped it. She slid out of the seat and stretched. "But i really don't think it's a...date." Just saying that word was more trouble than it should have been. "This IS Eric that we're talking about."

"I still don't get why you won't even consider the fact that he might be interested in you. He flirts with you all the time."

"You know who else he flirts with? George, Brian, Mike, and Tom. And me. But the difference is that it's not REAL flirting. It's fake flirting, because he knows that he would never go out with any of us in a million years. With them it's because they're guys. With me it's because...i don't know." At this point we had walked into the little mini "dressing room" things that they had installed to make Phillips stop whining. There was one for girls and one for boys, but people mostly just used bathroom stalls to change in. I sat down at the little sink and started rubbing green off of my cheek.

"Do you like him, though?" Vanessa asked.

I thought about denying it once again. But there wasnt really much point. "The complete true answer in one word is no. The complete true answer in more than one word is that maybe i could, but i've never let myself consider it."

"Why?"

"Because people ask him out all the time. Because he seems sensitive and nice and he'll be all chivalrous sometimes and they'll start to read too much into it. Then they'll come up and ask him and he'll turn them down but be really nice about it. And i don't want to be one of the many. Honestly, for anything to happen, he would have to make the first move. But...what am i talking about? Because it'll never happen." Vanessa was silent for a minute while i watched the green paint swirl around in the sink three times before disappearing totally.

"Sounds like you like him."

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I walked around the room for a fourth time. This was odd. It was really odd. Only it wasnt. Because we were just friends. Right? Right.

...

Right?

The doorbell rang, and even though i was expecting it, i jumped like five feet in the air.

I walked over to the door and took a deep breath. I opened it and there he was...

The mailman.

"Um, hi."

"Package for Mrs. Harriet Herdman?"

"Yeah, that's me," I lied, grabbing the paper and signing my mom's signature. She and Dad had taken my siblings out to dinner. It was so cute watching them be all parent-ish. I sign for my parents all the time anyways, since they're never here. People get a little suspicious when i tell them that i'm John, but when i put on this extremely hurt face and say "But Mommy said i was normal," they tend not to pry.

"Hey." Eric had walked up to my door while the mailman was standing there.

"Hey, I'll be there in a sec." I hauled the package inside. Whatever it was, it was heavy.

"So I guess I've got some competition," he joked, nodding in the direction of the departing mail truck.

"Oh yeah, because postage stamps really turn me on these days." He lauged and opened the back door of his mom's car. I know, I know, what a hot date, but you can't walk anywhere from my house, and neither of us are old enough to drive yet.

Once we were in the car, his mom totally started to put me through the third degree. Isn't it the guy who's supposed to go through that? But i just smiled a lot and was very polite and we were best friends by the time she dropped us off. If there is one thing my parents have drilled into me (besides to never sign a contract without a lawyer present), it's manners.

After waiting in a horrendously long line to get to the ticket booth, Eric tried to get tickets to that new movie with Ben Stiller in it. "Sorry, that movie's sold out," said the very bored-looking dude working the little microphone thing.

The only other things playing were three horror flicks (immediatley off the list since i can't stand freaky movies), four movies that were rated R and we couldnt get into, and...

"Two tickets to Yours, Mine, and Ours, please."

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"Jumping off a building."

"That's not original enough."

"Shooting myself with a potato gun five thousand times. I would live, but i would be in really bad pain."

"Alright..." Eric said, "Throwing myself into a giant paper shredder."

"Shhhhhhhhhh!" The lady in front of us hissed.

"Listening to George play clarinet for ten straight hours."

"Reenacting that Monty Python skit, The Idiot Race or whatever it was called. The one where you have to run yourself over with a car."

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Being eaten alive by ravenous worms."

"Worms don't have teeth."

"Exactly."

"Nice. Watching this movie for the rest of my life."

"That doesnt make any sense," I whispered. "You would rather watch this movie for the rest of your life than watch this movie?"

"You would rather be eaten by worms than watch this movie?"

"They have no teeth, so it'd be slow, plus i hate worms so it would be totally gross."

"SHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The lady in front of us was starting to look fairly homicidal, so we shut up. This was possibly the worst movie ever, and the Dennis Quaid factor didnt help. To amuse ourselves, Eric and i had been thinking of as many creative deaths as possible.

And the thing is that we never, ever had an awkward moment. He didnt do that whole corny thing that guys always do in movies, where they yawn and put their arm around the girl's chair. Not that i don't give the male species major props for thinking of a more subtle way to do that, but i didnt necessarily want Eric to go all..guy-ish on me. This was fine as far as i was concerned. Being morbid with Eric was much more fun than hanging out with Luke.

Even if it was against a backdrop of Drake Bell screaming a fake song in another steryotypical kid party.

We cheered when the movie was over. Not because it was good, but because the torture was over.

We laughed and talked on the way back. It was almost the exact same high that i got off of that audience watching me as someone else, only different, a little stranger.

Then we were at my house, and he was walking me up to my door, and i had forgotten all about how this was supposed to be awkward.

"And seriously, them painting the pig blue had to be some kind of animal rights violation. They should get the ASPCA called on them," I said, smiling and watching the little fog my breath made against the completley black sky. We reached the top step coming up to the door.

"So...this was nice," I said.

"Yeah. We should do it again sometime."

"Cool. Well..." All of a sudden this big crash came from my house, followed closely by an "Oops" and a wail. "Jeez. I leave for three hours and the entire place falls apart," I joked. "I should go."

"Okay." And it would have been normal if he had just left. But then, as i was opening the door, he touched my hand. I looked back and smiled at him. He smiled back, and i walked into my chaotic house.

Instead of dealing with the problem at hand (Craig had thrown a baseball at Dennis, which he had successfully ducked. The ball had hit this old watering pot type thing that has absoloutly no point that sits on our fireplace. It had hit Blaire on the leg and she immediatley started to cry), i walked through it all and sat on my couch, pretty much oblivious to everything going on.

What was going on here?