happy leap year’s day

Leap year. I dislike that we call this one day leap year. Year. Shouldn’t it be called Leap Year’s Day? Is it? Whatever. February 29th. That’s nice. I’m sleepy, and I feel I’ve been teetering the edge of Grumpy for a week now. I’ve decided not to check my email tomorrow unless I forget that Hayley will be announcing the winners there. Then, I guess, I won’t be too disappointed. I mean, I said I’ve accepted rejection earlier, but until March 1st, there is still the tiniest amount of hope that maybe my crappy story will be published and read by many. Ugh ugh ugh. I lose either way, but if I’m published, even if it sucks, some people may be impressed. I just want you all to know–I can do better. When you read my story, remember that I hate it and that I’m certain I have better ones in me.

Daniel just got home and placed a Peach Tea Snapple near my right arm and a box of Quaker Chewy S’mores granola bars to the right of that. It’s like he knows that I love Snapple tea drinks and s’mores anythings and that ingesting such sugary things would make me less grumpy. He seems to have forgotten that I flail my arms around occasionally and knock things off the table or spill them on my computer. But it’s okay. I am being very careful. He’s in the shower now, and I decided I’ll finish this blog entry quickly and go shower myself so that when he comes out, we can have a hug that is one-hundred percent clean.

not so bad

admire the dead butterflies

I left the house to go to work this morning and saw this little guy, dead in the driveway. I didn’t know whether to dig deeper for remorse or accept that my first response was a reaction to its beauty. Hurry, take a picture, lie on the ground to get a good angle, the light and the colors are perfect, and I want everyone to see this.
Maybe I should have grieved, at least worked harder for a tear, because while it may have had a wonderful life fluttering near the yellow flowers in the tree by the mailbox just hours ago, it is dead now, and its butterfly friends are mourning a loss.
Most people, I think, will agree that butterflies don’t have feelings like we do. Life just is, until it isn’t. And butterflies move on. I watched this video a while ago, and it was lovely and poetic and gross at the same time, and brought me closer than I’d ever been to lepidopterophobia. But I thought of it this morning and the way that Hank simply described life and energy, and said, “some days it seems to me like the purpose of life is to convert energy into beauty.” And he knew it wasn’t true or logical, but we’d both agree that it’s okay to admire the dead butterflies.

when chocolate is wrong

Nearly constantly wanting sugar makes me feel like a bad person. Bad and fat. Is this a medical problem? What does WebMD say about this? I like the taste of chocolate, and they so often come in such cute packages that I crave the very sight. I know I’m not alone. You people just don’t want to admit it. You’re an addict. You have no control. Maybe you should run a little longer, eat a little more greens, and spend a little less time in front of the computer drooling over the images in the dessert section of Foodgawker. Maybe. I mean, it’s just a suggestion.
But, really, what makes this bad. Why does wanting sweets make me feel wrong? Is it because it’s unhealthy? It seems there’s more to it than that. I don’t understand. Let me want chocolate, okay? Just let me do it–let me lie on my bed with my laptop, some DVDs, and a box of fancy chocolates, and just let me be. Let that be fine and perfectly acceptable. Let it be, just, damn good. And you do it, too.
Oh! Oh? Is that it? Chocolate equals happy? Happiness is a weird thing, because unless you’re doing something wrong, it shouldn’t be so easy. And when it comes in a five dollar box, it must be wrong. Is that what this is? Must it? Is it? Can we still do that chocolate movie night thing?

the line between the sky and sea

I’m tense. Like, I feel that people want things from me that I can’t or don’t want to give. That’s why I’m here. Writing to you folks is important. And since I’ve been doing it every day so far this year, I think others are starting to understand that this isn’t just a thing. And even if it is, it’s a thing that needs to be done. This might be in my head. This tension. Still, you and I have something that makes me calm.

Earlier this month, I told you about some new music I was excited to hear. I didn’t want to admit that it was not what I expected. I wasembarrassed! How weird is that? It was good–just not as ground-breaking, earth-shaking, or breath-taking as I’d imagined. But the second run-through was better. And the third was even better than the second. I’ve listened to the entire album on shuffle over ten times, easily, in a little over two weeks, and I’m proud (this is weird, too) that I love it and can feel it the way I only thought I should have felt it the first time. What I’m saying is that I fixed it. I fixed the music, and we can all celebrate now.

My cold symptoms have lessened as well. I can feel it, like, in the back of my nose or up in my sinuses, but it’s keeping quiet and trying not to disturb me too much. I think these guys are a little shy. Now that the head has cleared, they’re ashamed of the ruckus they’d caused and are packing up their things as I type.

I guess I don’t have to be sick to write stupid things.

Anyway, it’s Saturday night and Daniel doesn’t have work so we’re going on a date! I’m not even going to brush my hair. We must really love each other, huh?

 

love and more excuses

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m just out of the shower typing this blog entry on my bed. Zuko took a while to find a comfortable spot between my face and the laptop, but she’s enjoying herself now, resting her head on my left wrist, watching the words appear on the screen while keeping her right paw on the trackpad. She seems genuinely interested in this entry. That, or being with me. It’s so nice to be wanted this way.

I went to dinner with a couple of friends tonight, and that was nice too. I realized I hadn’t been doing many friend things since I made that tri-monthly list of goals which suggested I should. I haven’t been going to church, either. I should. I really should. There are just a couple of small things holding me back. If I were confident and independent, this would be easier.

 

 

three things

1. I have a cold. This is the third day, and I don’t feel any better than the first, but blah blah blah. That’s how I feel. I don’t even know what I’m typing right now, because my head is not with me. I would sleep more if I wasn’t sneezing. And while I sleep, I will dream. For a little while last night, I was two seats away from young Leo DiCaprio in the second row at the circus, and I ruffled his hair. According to an online “dream dictionary,” the number two can mean a number of different things. That’s so obvious, it’s un-obvious. The circus suggests I might be seeking excitement or putting myself in dangerous situations. I’m surprised I don’t visit the circus more often in my sleep. It is difficult for most people to tell that I am an adrenaline junkie. The dictionary, if you can even call it that, asks that I think about the performances I watched while at the circus. I didn’t have to do much thinking to remember that there were no performances. Only a seating area. There is little to say about youth and much to say about hair, but I’m too distraught to write of it while I can’t breathe through my nose.

2. Next week, I will not be getting an email from Hayley G. Hoover about having my story published. I’ve accepted this weeks ago, so I’ll be okay. After that, I will focus on writing other things. Like my name. In cursive. Over and over.

3. Three. Did I say three things? Man, I spent all my energy on my Leonardo DiCaprio dream. When I’m feeling well, I want to eat a lot of food at a restaurant with warm lighting and comfortable chairs. Now that will be exciting.

green, bitter, and hot

I’ve been thinking of giving up chocolate for Lent. Admittedly, that’s the best I can do. Think about it, I mean. If I’m going to do this thingy, I don’t know what it will be. But just imagining being choco-less has given me a weird craving for a BIG BOWL OF FRUIT.

My head is still stuffy, but I’m feeling more like myself than yesterday. I know we don’t really have to wait until the end of a package of green tea to get another one, but we did. And the other night, Mom brought home a different one. Exciting, huh? I wish I could branch away from green tea and genmaicha, but everything else is gross. Tea from flowers are the worst, and the lemony types aren’t very good. Suggestions? I guess I prefer bitter, hearty tastes when it comes to hot tea.
I’m excited for my Thursday away from work. I almost want to wake up early so it lasts longer. I have plans to drink more tea, maybe have some ochazuke, and spend a few hours working on a creative project. Drawing things for people who have commissioned me is pretty amazing. I will complain about it, and I will be overrun with stress, but it’s a weird sort of I-Love-This feeling mixed with something that sounds a lot like But-I-Can’t-Say-It-Aloud. Because outside of my head, it’s just work. Work.

What are you giving up for Lent? And what type of tea would you recommend me?

a cold excuse

Daniel went to Barnes & Noble this afternoon and he bought me two romantic gifts. Books are romantic. Flowers, chocolate, jewelry, and books. And gum, nail polish, cupcakes, and assorted electronics.

Because I don’t have much to write about, I’m going to give you a little insight into the making of this blog entry. For a while, I was stuck on the word “assorted” and at the time, it did not exist there. Instead, the words “random” and “nonessential” were floating around in my head, sounding  not quite right. I hate that feeling. I had to ask for help. I knew it was a simple word, a word I’d use casually and normally not give so much thought. But there are so many words in my mind, they’re bound to get lost some time. Mom helped me get the word out.

I haven’t been feeling well today, so I spent many hours lounging in front of the computer, drinking gallons of water, tea, and soup, fighting nausea, and exercising my brain with my daily dose of Jeopardy. I got to see Zac Efron on Ellen too, so that was nice. I also watched Switched At Birth, a dramatic series about two families coming together after discovering their girls were switched at birth! The show is better than it sounds. Really. It took me a while to give it a chance, but I’m loving it now. I love loving TV shows. I mean, it’s no Lizzie McGuire or Six Feet Under, but I get my weekly fix of drama and attractive faces, so I’m happy.

This blog entry is all over the place, but so are my thoughts. I have a cold and an excuse.

this would be the preface

I watched The Vow last night and it made me rethink my hair color, bangs, the way I wear my eyeliner, and my rich preppy friends. But, yes, I enjoyed it as much as I could. It was sweet and heart-wrenching and filled with pretty people.

Three years ago today, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with Daniel. Although my journal entry plays it down a bit, I think I was just being prideful and strong, desperately trying to keep my feet on the ground, when I wrote: “Hello, self. I just wanted to let you know that it is quite possible that I am in like with Daniel.” Because I knew that I liked him. And I eventually realized how it was more than liking. I went crazy for him late on a Friday night in the patio area of Big City Diner in Kailua, on a corner of a table of ten or twelve friends, talking about my Garden Burger over the Saloon Pilots, a bluegrass band playing six feet away. Daniel was beautiful, so nice, and tall. We made eye contact for a split second before we both turned away. I was embarrassed. For him. For me. For thinking it could mean something more than it probably did. We talked a lot and aside from the potential romance of a half-second glance, his knowing that I was there, that I actually existed in the same space as he did, that he spoke to me like I was special, was what made me see that I was completely lost to him.
I like to remember that night and how new and exciting everything was. I actually enjoyed, in a really masochistic/romantic sort of way, wondering if he might possibly want to hold my hand or get an Icee together. And I think it’s important to remember, for me to remember, that This isn’t lost. The First Feelings, glee and wonder and that god-awful new-love pain in the pit of my stomach, they happened, and I can keep them with me forever. What I feel for him now, this comfortable love–frizzy hair, bra-less, stay-at-home-movie-night, eat until I’m actually full, cry over a stomach ache–this is Something too.