Good Morning Early Risers

For whatever reason, we seem to get addicted to PostSecret.com. I am one of those many people out there that right after checking Myspace, run and scroll through the various secrets. Hence, why I chose to use them to kind of set up my blog post for that day. This, however, is not what my entry is about today. It is 6:02 a.m on Saturday January 31st, 2009. I am wide awake. Haven't slept a wink all night. This a big thing. I always am able to sleep at least a couple hours unless something huge happened to me. Nothing out if the oridinary occurred yesterday. I got up. Got dressed. Watched a movie. Took a shower. Walked to the bus stop. Saw my ex. Changed buses. Arrived at my mom's house. I guess what I'm thinking here is that seeing him affected me more than I wanted it too. On Thursday we had been messaging. Nothing major, just a casual conversation. He happened to mention that he missed me. It was no big deal, since I try not to get attached and "miss" people when they're gone. But to tell you the truth, I was a little pissed. Because not only was he there. He was there with his arm around a girl. And it's not that the fact that he was with a girl that pissed me off. It was the fact that just the day before he had told me he missed me. And it would be a whole other thing if he hadn't had his arm around her. During bus rides I'm usually quite friendly and chatty with people if I'm by myself. But the entire ride from 185th ST to Northgate Way, I stared at the window. I couldn't even look back at him. I can't begin to explain why this was so difficult for me today. Do you know? It'd be nice if you could clue me in on it. All I've thought about is his arm gently wrapped around her waist. I like the bus. Today I learned how to hate it.

This Is For Katie Wachholz

Well this is it fucker, not Katie, I love her. This is my final goodbye. This entire semester you have made me miserable, kept me out of two gymnastics meets and just plain pissed everyone off. Yes, I could have done more homework. But that shouldn't have been the only thing to keep my grade so low. You don't give anyone a break. I know people that switch out so they're able to maintain their 4.0. There are some of the most intelligent people in our grade that take your course and still come out with only a B+ or an A-. And have I mentioned the way you look!? Sorta of tall and fat with greasy black hair and grey streaks in it. You're balding very obviously. It goes to the middle of your head in a sort of half oval shape. Then your face. It's all pig like and squashed in. Those big coke bottle glasses that nerds wore in the 80's. If they were retarded back then, then they'll be retarded today. Plus you have leathery looking skin. Now to the rest of you. Remember when we had to discuss with you about our opening statements? But it was during a test so you leaned in closer. Yeah, I smelled your fucking breath. I don't think bus 109 even smells that bad. And for those of you that ride it, you know how bad that bus stinks. Then there's you B.O, nothing to out of the ordinary. Just regular body odor. And we haven't even started on your hands. Now if you know me then you should know that I hate my hands. But yours make mine look good enough to be a hand model. Your nails are chipped and broken. Then have that ugly yellowing fungus thing like you see in the commercials. And the the skin also has that thick leathery look to it. They wrinkle on knuckles, but it's not like the little amount on other people's. It looks like when you mess up a blanket real bad. Now for your attitude. You waltz around the classroom like you're better then us. Just because you went to mother fucking Stanford doesn't mean you're any better then me or any other person in your classes. First off we haven't gone to college yet, so you can't judge us. Secondly the type of university someone goes to doesn't necessarily make you a better human being. Oh and just because we don't know the answer to a question we were never asked on a subject we've neve covered before DOESN'T MAKE US BAD STUDENTS! We've been programmed to only read and answer the questions you assign us. Scan the page, answer questions, turn in the homework and move on. Sorry we don't remember a movie that we watched three days ago for which half of us were asleep during and can't remember the tiniest little details. You've probably watched it for however many years you've worked as a Biology teacher, and that has to be one hell of a long time. Plus you have five biology classes so you probably know the dumb movie by heart. We don't. And I don't give a fuck. It's a sad movie, but three hours long and kind of boring. Not gonna lie. So I guess I could go on a little bit more about how much I hate you. But I need to get to bed. Seeing as today was hopefully my last day with you, then I'm On My Way. Peace bitch.

Sorry Katie Loverly, But This Is What's On My Mind.

And this blog is about me today. I'm saving the rant for the last day I will have him. Look for it Weds, I promise! Anyways, most people who know me, know that I live with both my parents. Half the time in Shoreline and the other half in Lake City. Since I don't curretly have a license or car. I am forced to take the bus back and forth. It's not a bad ride, about an hour each way. And I have my iPod to keep me company. But I just hate the fact I have to live like this. I know, I know. Plenty of people get divorced. Hence, why I don't believe in love. But that is an entirely different subject. I love both my parents. My mom is helluh chill with me and allows me to do a lot that I don't normally get to do. But my dad makes sure I do my homework and keep my grades up. They worked so well together. I don't know what made them split. It's been almost 9 and 1/2 years since it happened. July 22nd, 2000. I'll honestly never forget that day. We had gotten home around 9 p.m. from a Mariners game and naturally I had run down the street to Michelle's house to flaunt my new souvenirs. I then proceeded back up the hill to my house at around 9:30ish. I walked in the door to find my mom crying on the sofa. I asked her what was wrong and she told me "daddy doesn't love mommy anymore." Keep in mind I was a mere child at age 7. I then proceeded to wander back down the block to Michelle's again and inform her that my parent's had split. My mom accompanied me as Michelle's mom was her best friend at the time. I slipped into the bathroom with Michelle and Mason, her brother one year my junior, as to avoid her visiting cousins who I didn't know well enough for them to overhear our conversation. I don't know for how many months I cried myself to sleep after that. But it was well into my 8th birthday for sure, which is in November. I just couldn't deal with driving from Lake City to West Seattle, my dad's residence back then. And then on the frightful day of August 24th, 2002, Jill moved in and my life has been in a downward spiral ever since. I'd go on about her. But that could take up far to much room.

I Have A Question

Do you guys think that you're able to miss someone you talk to frequently, but know almost nothing about? That even if you feel like you don't like them, hearing about them kiss someone else still makes you hurt inside? And even though you know you should forget about them, you want to keep going after them because you think you could have a chance anyways? I think so. And I do. To all of those questions. Who is this guy? Well no one will know but me. For once I'm going to keep who I like a secret. If he figures out who he is and feels the same way, more power to him. Go on and ask me out, because I will say yes. But the chances of him doing either are very slim to none. So I'll move on and talk to him day to day. Act like everything's normal and I'm fine being just friends. Because I am. Just not 100% is all. In a way I hope you read this and know it's you. But in another way I don't want you to know. That way if you don't return the feelings I don't feel as pathetic inside. Even though I have no way of knowing if you read this or not. I guess I just wrote this all down for no reason. Or a slightly unconcious reason I haven't become aware of yet. I don't know. But I think I'll start doing this everyday again. It's just before I was in a large emotional funk. I talked through it with my best friend Jenny and I feel like 1000x better then I did before. Just writing all of this down and putting it out there makes me feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my chest.