Monday, November 24, 2008

Truth or Dare

When I was little, I always wanted to get my period. I always thought it was wicked cool, that it meant you were finally an adult. In my tween years, when I was about 11, I had the awful boy crazy stage. I was in the 6th grade, and we all thought we were adults, or at least 16 years old. We started “dating”, and in that year alone, I had 5 or 6 “boyfriends”. I continually told them I loved them (see post entitled “Love” below) and I was obsessed with perfume, makeup, kissing, Truth or Dare, you name it.

It was around this time that I asked my mom if I could start wearing a bra. I remember, we were on an island off the coast of Phuket, Thailand. I started the conversation by asking my mom (after my dad and Tony had gone off to play pool, of course) when she started wearing a bra. She said she was in 7th grade, and at first, I was like, “Ooh, sweet, that’s not much older than I am now.” Until my mom said that she was around 13 or 14 when she was in 7th grade. My 11-year-old self felt Extremely Awkward. Sensing this, my mom, with her women’s/mother’s/friend’s intuition, asked, “Why? Do you want to start wearing a bra?” I played it cool, or at least I thought I did, and eventually she agreed to buy me some when she went to Bangkok next.

Last night, my mom kindly brought the rest of the week’s clean laundry up to my room, with a big stack of bras on top of the basket. She said, victoriously, “I did a HUGE bra wash, but I dunno whose is whose.” I grabbed a couple that were mine, and separated hers out, then went back to Flamingo. The whole exchange, in comparison to my Thai beach conversation, was so cavalier and cool that I now notice how far me and my “maturity” have come in the last three years or so.

Okay, enough about bras. Poor Eddie, who I hope reads my blog sometimes, is most likely shuddering and scrolling down.

The point of all this is, I regret my past. I kind of wish I could erase a lot of stuff that happened to me when I was in Dhaka, not at all because of where I was or the school I went to, but because of who I was pretending to be. My first kiss was in a dark bathroom with a guy who later turned into a total jackass, and couldn’t kiss well to save his life.

I would have much preferred Simon’s first, with me, to be The First. Tobago, the last night we were there, at night, outside, nice, innocent, romantic. I know a girl who’s First was laying down, on a couch, in some guy’s living room, at the Prom ’08 after party. This massive PDA (given that there were people dancing not three feet away) gave this girl a “rather dubious reputation”, and she hasn’t been able to get away from it since.

So, that’s my random little schpiel (shpeel? schpele?) on puberty. Adolescence. Maturity. Wtfever you want to call it. Either way, there’s plenty of cramps, Axe, Truth or Dare, nail polish, bras, texting, dancing, and much much more. When/if I have a daughter, pray I teach her this crap earlier.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Snuggling Under Covers

I live in the Carribean, and before here, Bangladesh. That doesn't change the fact that I hate being hot. I can't focus, I get pissy, I get sweaty and malleable. Hence, the AC in my room never dips below 24 Celsius. Actually, in my old house, it was constantly set to 17, but I've turned it up here because it blows right on my bed, where I am the majority of the time. Soo, of course, I'm constantly under my comforter.

My mom and my brother are always on my case for keeping it so cold, and insist it makes me sick. But I love the feeling of being in a cold environment and snuggling under the covers to keep warm. It's so much more cozy than being in a hot place and only using a sheet. 

This is one of the reasons I'm glad I'm moving to Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, for my final two years of high school. I'm a little worried about the whole "no uniform" thing, seeing as how I've gotten so used to it here, and freak out every time we have free dress day. But, the consulate there will give us a housing allowance, and we can do with it what we will. Meaning, my mom, myself, and Shada will be three girls trying to make it in the Little Big City. Fun stuff.

Back to being cold. I'm cold right now. Except my feet. My feet are hot. So, of course, I crank the AC down a few notches lower, and my already icicled arms frost up even more. So then I'll snuggle under my covers even more, turn off my lights, and cuddle up with Flamingo and Shada. Who could possibly hate that?

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Kat, aka Katherine, is my sister. Well, except for the fact that we have different parents.

She's Jim and Laura's 20 year old daughter, and she's living with us until December. Jim and Laura are my parents' best friends since before Tony and I were born. They taught at Muskingum College, with my mom, in Cambridge, Ohio, in the 90's. They were there through getting Tessa, our first dog, the birth of Tony and I, my mom's cancer, and, eventually, Jim getting fired from the college. After that, Laura quit her job, and they moved the family to Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and became potters. Kat's sister, Maija, is 18, and is currently an exchange student in Bolivia. Katherine lived in Thailand for a year, and so speaks Thai fluently.

I love having a sister for the first time in my life, and we tear it up. She introduced us to the world of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, Chucky, Pet Semetary, and much more. She's there for girl talk, boy talk, drink talk, and any other talk you can think of. She was here for our move to Westmoorings, too, which kicks ass. We share clothes, stories, gossip, and much much more.

We're talking about Kat coming to school with us some time, and trailing either me or Tony in our classes. We did that in Dhaka, and just told everyone she was our sister. Apparently, folks there still believe it.

Monday, November 17, 2008


I love to shower. Showering kicks it. Whenever I'm stressed, or hot, or tired, or pissed off, or depressed, a shower is the best possible cure. You wash away not only the dirt, but your sweat, blood, and tears, and emerge fresh and wonderful. Plus, if you're as weird as I am, you get to use all your fun shampoos, conditioners, body washes, face washes, and are engulfed in glorious smell after glorious smell.

My favorite kind of shower, I realized a few months ago, is: hot sunburn, cold shower, warm towels, cold bedroom. Best combination ever. Or, cold outside, hot shower, warm, fluffy towels. You can't shower, and truly have a nice, glorious shower, and come out to a crappy, wet, or dirty towel. Yeah, use the same one a few times a week, but if it's wet, or cold, or musty, or nasty, get a new one, trust me. Your showering experience will be much nicer.
I shower in the morning, usually, so I come to school with wet hair. In 8th grade, Janine was on my case for doing that, and so I tried showering the night before, but dude, my hair was waaay harder to do when it's dry. It's not very pleasant to deal with. So I said fudge "NeeNee", and do my thing. 'Cept, these days, with the play, I usually shower before bed as well as in the morning, which I know is kinda wasteful, but cam awwwn. People do worse.

I love to shower. I've taken three showers today. Well, okay, I'll admit it, my most recent one was only because I had just gotten a new face wash and had to try it out. But I was wet from the rain too, so I had an excuse. xD

Okay, this has been a totally wack post. I just really wanted to talk about how much I like showering. It's nice. It's the best part of waking up in the morning.

Thursday, November 13, 2008


Having just finished watching 'Becoming Jane', I feel obliged to write about, what else? Love.
I have never been in love. I'm 14, so to say I've felt that particular emotion would be entirely insane. But I've lied. Just two years ago, Simon and I often said we loved each other. But looking back, what I felt for Simon was entirely a different thing. It was more "like" than love, and I'm not just saying that because of how old we were.

To speak of lust is an entirely different topic. Lust is wanting someone, wanting every part of them, and wanting it immediately. In comparison to love, lust is temporary, fleeting, intense. Lust is dirty. I have been in lust. Most people in this world have been in lust. But to be in love, is a very different thing.

To be in love is to float. All cliches aside, and from my innocent point of view, love is floating. Love is sitting on a gigantic cotton ball, cloud, or simliar, and weaving your way through the clouds, breathing in their pure, moist air, and feeling it soak into your skin. Love is pure.

I am not floating. I am sitting on my cloud, and hovering a few feet above everyone else's heads. But I am not up in the sky yet. My love has not yet been born. My like, however, that has hatched. That is growing, that is maturing, that is perfect.

You cannot speak of love and not speak of heartbreak. I have been heartbroken. No, I have never been in love, but my heart's shattering was not caused by a silly teenage boy "dumping" me. My love was for a completely seperate heart, the heart of a family. When that heart was broken, all four of us were jolted.

But no, as I said, I have never fallen into broken heart syndrome.

I have, however, been lovesick. We talked in English a few days ago about being ill with like. You feel physically, mentally, and, most of all, emotionally ill. You cannot function, your eyes are in a permenant droop, your lips are in a permenant curl. You feel as though your insides do not weigh a thing, as though all those organs and bones have disappeared. I, now, am what I call, likesick.

This ends my sappy, cliche, cheesy, corny rant about love.

I hope I have not sent you running into the hills with my excess amount of dairy products.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Are you Looking Through Me?

At ISPS, we're putting on a production of "Looking Through You" a drama by Max Bush. We're directed by Mr. Levy, the drama teacher, and Rudy (the fabulous) is our stage director. I play Christy Bekken, the only character with a last name ("beckon" having much to do with her personality), the bitchy prep at high school. Lucas plays Lucas (duh hoy hoy!), the "hopeless romantic", with a crush on Christy. When she makes him a mix tape, he couldn't be more delighted, and proudly plays it for all his friends. Halfway through the tape, it cuts out, and you hear me, Christy, humming, and then talking to someone (whom we can't hear on the tape). Christy's distraught, yelling, almost crying, and a loud thunk ends the tape. Lucas and his friends imagine what the tape was about, while I, along with a truckload of other random characters, act out these possibilities. The story develops, Lucas trying to figure out what happened to Christy, Christy's boyfriend beating up Lucas, and culminates in Christy revealing the truth about the recording to Lucas - and ending in a smooch.

This is my first major role in a production, having previously been involved in Midsummer Night's Dream, Alice in Wonderland, Charlotte's Web, Mankindand Co., and High School Musical. In the above, I played Snowt, a talking daisy, a gosling, Pigmaylion, and Kelsi, respectively. None being "female leads", which is what I consider Christy Bekken to be.

I have to say, I love it. By nature, I love to be in the spotlight, and this play chucks me right into it. Yeah, so, I have to kiss Lucas (not my favorite person in the world, but tolerable), and wear skimpier clothes than I normally would, but we, so far, are having a kickass time. Tara, Maria, Chin, Tony, Rudy, Latricia, Alexis, we tear it up, making a mess of the Drama room, consuming all food in sight, shrieking at each other 'BLACKOUT' and 'YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON' 24/7.

Opening night is November 20th, aka next Thursday, and we're doing three shows, that whole weekend. I, personally, am a little worried that not a single person will come to the show, but, oh well, guess we'll see. The fewer the merrier, who get to see me smooch a guy 2 feet taller than me.