As a disclaimer, these blogs are for emotional release. I feel like this blog lost any sort of "respect" anyone could possibly have for such a silly little girl, but when I go over it, it helps me clear my mind. As another disclaimer, I usually don't fret about boys. I don't want to be in that category of users. And I've just made this all worse, haven't I?

 

With the peers I've lost and the peers I've gained this year, cigarettes have started to creep up into my life….Which makes me feel a bit guilty. I remember being a toddler and thinking in disgust that smokers were the evil men with mustaches that hung around in vans with candy, or trashy women like Cruella de Vil, who killed puppies for fashion.

As I grew up into the phase of "smoking and drinking is cool," the first tastes of high school falsity, I decided to stick more to marijuana than to cigarettes. Even though marijuana is an illegal drug, I still consider it something I'd rather get caught with by police, than cigarettes, just by how I compare their disadvantages.

But marijuana's harder to come by here to the kids who grow up with in apartments with parents who smoke…As in, it's less of a hassle to get your hands on.

I'm the kid with the nice house in a maze of suburbs, with driveways filled with SUVs and Trucks and more cars than the household needs. (That's a pet peeve. I don't like the many American families that own too many cars.) I have strict parents who want me to be an A student, which I easily hold on to, but they expect me not to get in trouble. I can't do that. I can hide trouble, but I'm always doing trouble and one of these days, I'm going to get caught. That's a story I'll type out in a bit. We're going to lose our house, though, because of me. My father's trial is in July and he'll lose his job. He'll go to jail. We'll have to pack out of this house that we've had for less than two years. I honestly hated this house, though. It's great, big kitchen, big living room, three bathrooms. I just hated the openess, it's one of those with high ceilings, 15-20 foot in height instead of 10 feet. I hate it. It makes me feel smaller than I already am, and big spaces make me feel anxious…like the opposite of claustophobia. Another reason why I sleep with a pillow on my head.

So let's introduce two people into the life of Paige, because I'm sure you all care about teenage angst and relationships.

Boy one is a junior. He's a bit short in height, but much taller than me…considering I'm 5'0. We met at a spring art competition and he invited me to play cards with his friends because I was so quiet. (I am socially awkward and quiet.) I found out he goes to my school, then we hung out over the summer, innocently. He has a huge DVD collection, so we watched a lot of movies. In his guest room. Doing nothing, as Holden Caulfield would phrase it, "sexy." Then, after one of our day's of "chilling," he quickly asked me out. I told him no. After that, we still hung out as friends, doing the spending-the-whole-day-watching-movies thing quite often. Sometimes we'd see theater movies. Or go to the mall. And at school, we'd eat lunch outside every other day with his friend and hang out in the morning. Fast forward 8 months. He puts the moves on me. I've been single for about a year, lonely for over 8 months, after everything happened (and is happening) with my family. I mean, this guy has been there through my family issue. So I accept his "affectionate gesture." Then we end up "getting sexy" twice a week after my 16th birthday.

One week later, we're still completely cool and normal, but haven't seen each other in the morning for a few months. The next week, I'm dealing with my period. The next week, he and his friend don't meet me outside for lunch and (when he was at school that day) when I get mad. This boy he and I both don't like and Boy One usually tells to get off my back, sat down by me and started talking to me. He's the type that creeps me out. So I told Chris it I was bothered, not specifically by the ditch, but bothered. So I don't meet him for lunch the next time, and we spend the next week (last week) ignoring each other completely. He puts on Facebook he's on a relationship, clearly not with me, so either with another girl or just to piss me off. And I am deliberately calling him names behind his back so I can get his attention and he can come up to me and tell me why he's so pissy. And I'm still waiting.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is lack of communication between young teenagers. The vital error in broken friendships.

Let's meet Boy Two. Boy Two is in my Algebra 2 class, a junior as well. He's quiet. Doesn't talk. I like that.

So I gain an interest in him because he's not loud and obnoxious and when, for second semester, we move classrooms and find desks that are set up in groups, I sit on his table. It takes a few months, but just these past two weeks or so, we've started to have non-Algebra related conversations. On Good Friday, he gave me his number, I gave him my Facebook name, and he invited me to hang out with him on Friday. Then we went on our merry way.

He has a bit more in common with me than a lot of the people in this area do…His views, opinions, and taste in music. And he can drive, unlike Boy One. So Boy Two introduces me to his friends, tries to get me to form a social life, and I explore his mother's apartment and his father's house, and have some innocent teenager fun and tag games at the park. Boy Two also tends to smoke and ends up sharing a bit of his packs with me, which is not good for keeping me off cigarettes. Today, we watched a movie in the theater in which his hand was laid out awkwardly on his thigh next to me, almost expectandly (cue little girl shriek of ecstacy.) When I got paranoid that my dad was there, I asked to go out the exit door instead of the lobby, and Boy Two nonchalantly guided all of his friends out the door…which made me feel guilty for being a hassle. Then we went back to his place, he and I only, and watched a scary movie on his couch, where we scooted closer to each other until we leaned on each other. My excuse is that the couch was dipping his way. Then he invited me to an Easter barbecue.

Isn't it sweet, reading about a girl's daily life? Due to past events, I'm strictly against become some kind of slut or two faced player in relationships. Yes, lust feels good. Yes, excess is not good. Which is why, with Boy Two, I feel guilty for even spending time with him and getting to know him…all because of Boy One's little grasp on my ankle. Which is why, the sooner Boy One comes and talks to me and ends this stupidity either by ending our friendship, or starting anew, the better off I'll be with my standing with Boy Two.

Why do I even try with the opposite sex? Then again, prom is up. It'd be nice to be one of the sophomores at the junior prom. And go to the parties considering in the two years since moving here, I've yet to make it to one.

It's all so frustrating, the rules and expectations. I'd imagine it gets a bit worse when you're an adult…or perhaps a bit better? It may depend on who you are and how you view the world and society. I don't want to become a close-minded adult.

In Natsuo Kirino's "Grotesque," there was a girl. First, she was a student, a bit of an ugly student as far as Japanese high schoolers go. She had strict Asian parents, but when to a rich high school where half of the kids were smart, proper, and had tough parents, and the other half were rich, trendy, and outgoing. The main character made fun of this girl, one of the smarter, nerdier girls. But she was raised in a home with closeminded parents and a closeminded mentality, so she easily fell for the main character's words. She became bulimic (when she was already underweight) to gain affection of a middle schooler who thought she was disgusting. When this girl became an adult, she was still bulimic and became a prostitute. She thought she was hot and attractive (at 40 years old), pulling tricks as a quirky looking, underweight woman. She put herself above all of her coworkers, besides the fact that they tried to get her fired because she was too grotesque to look at and too conceited to talk to. She ended up dying to murder.

It scares me to become someone like that. But I don't want to be…stone cold. Nor do I want to be naive and easily emotional. I want to be happy. I always want to be happy. But that seems like a far off dream that's hard to get a hold of.

When I was reading "The Same Kind of Different as Me," a thought occurred to me. Why is that you only hear about the good people that die of cancer? I mean, it's obvious why you hear it, but why do I never hear mention of nasty people with nasty personalities ever developing cancer? Other than lung cancer or maybe skin cancer, something that was encouraged by their lifestyle, how many people, cruel, heartless people, develop random cancer at a random age? As a secret wish, I want that to be me.

People tend to key cancer as a cold and unforgiving disease. Yes, it is that way, but they feel so sorry for the patient, they really only focus on the good aspect of their lives and see it as a pity. I want to break that trend. Or maybe, for once, have people only look at my good points in life and see my cancer as a pity.

But it doesn't work that way. I don't think it's socially accepted to want attention like that.

I had another story, but I'm feeling a bit drowsy. Simply, I'm about to get into trouble after a perfect trouble-less start of high school, from lying to save the obviously guilty. And myself. For illegal activity in a school. This frightens me.

In all, this week has amounted to quite a bit of stress and disappointment. And lies and misconception.

Teenage years are meant to be golden, and I really should try harder to add that shine. I wonder why I'm not confident.

If I believe I can, I can. I believe I can fly. So let's go fly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today's blog was lame…and self concerned and unorganized.

1 Comment
  1. Justaguy_14 9 years ago

    No matter what happens to you, keep your head held high and stay strong. The world around you is just that; It moves around you. You are the author to this story we call Life. You hold the pen, you get to choose what happens. Have hope and faith, everything will work out

    -CR

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