I am procrastinating, as usual. I'm devising every possible way of avoiding writing my apush essays. Which is not a good thing. Especially if I want to go out tomorrow, and there's no way my mom will let me if I don't have at least one finished. I've even resorted to downloading four complete albums. Great music, but not what I need to be doing. I'm also (obviously) blogging, though there's not really any news to blog about. I'm also planning on getting off the computer and ceasing work altogether when I get done downloading this music, so that I can do some laundry and a few other things. So even more avoidance.

Darn me for always waiting until the last minute. I was ready to write these essays when I first got my book. I even had a sudden burst of inspiration when I finished reading the first chapter and wrote the introduction. It took all of 5 minutes, at the most. Granted, it is terrible and needs a lot of work done, and I might even end up using a different topic and completely changing my thesis, but I did it. Now, I can't even write one sentence about mercantilism and it's effect on the political and economic development of the 13 colonies.

Though that is, understandably, stunting me creatively. Just read that last sentence. It's just awful. I mean, I have a lot to say about the influence, and I have a sort of kind of thesis, but I just can't seem to put it into words and a cohesive essay, that should be but is not required to be 5 paragraphs. For all they care, it can be three as long as all three paragraphs are expertly written, thoroughly developed and well thought out. Too bad I can't do that.

Has anyone bottled and marketed a cure for procrastination? If so, I'll take one, please.

Heather

i'm a walking travesty

I can't decide between crying and laughing. I don't know if I'm sighing from contentment or because I hate what's happening in my life right now. My hands shaking and my loss of appetite can either be from a happy anxiety or one that stems from fear and anger. I'm a human contradiction and I don't like it.

My family is falling apart. My sister and I essentially moved out Friday night. Jessica came and got me and I walked out the door with enough clothes to last me a week. I didn't say a thing to my mother who was yelling after us saying she would appreciate it if we asked if I could leave next time. I just walked out and ignored her. She didn't notice I was crying. She just yelled at us to be home at noon the next day and bummed a cigarette off Jessica's father (she quit about 2 1/2 weeks ago). Amy looked at me and said "I hate you a lot of the time, but you know I still love you, right?" We haven't even gotten along since I was in elementary school. I called mom Saturday and said we would be home that night either, and that we were staying with Jessica again. She called me four times Sunday. We didn't go home. Today we told her we were coming back at 11 and asked for her to be there without Jack so we could talk. She knew we were coming. She knew when. She wasn't home and her cell phone was on the table. We waited for an hour and then Jess had to go to work. We left. I refused to stay there if she couldn't have the decency to respect our wishes and be there at a specific time when she had nothing else she had to do. We left a note asking her to be ready at 6 tomorrow so we could take her out to dinner and talk. She didn't like that. She's commanded me to come home so many times since then but finally gave up, saying we were making everything worse and she didn't want to see us.

I want to go home. I want the comfort of my own room and to know exactly what I'll be doing and who will be there. But I don't want to be there. I've hated living there for months. My mom takes out her anger on us, she takes out her frustration on us, she takes out her misery on us. Jack is a jerk, always has been, and thinks he's right. He blamed us, he came right out and blamed us for the problems in their marriage. He blamed us for the fight they had Friday night that caused me to sit in the closet crying and wishing I could just get out. He blamed us for all the misery in the house. Amy refuses to go back as long as he's there and she's old enough to legally leave. Me, I have to go back to that house and sit through more and more dinners of edgy silence and quieted arguments that sometimes result in screaming matches. I have to continue to feel worthless and ignored and like I can't do anything right. I'm going back tomorrow morning and Amy isn't.

And the worst part of it all is that it's keeping me from being happy about something I should be happy about. And it's not the only thing getting in the way. I don't remember when the post was, but I do remember reading it a little over a week ago. It was a post in which I said I felt like this summer would be different and huge and amazing. I was right. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same as it was just a few months ago. And it's not all bad. Through all this crap, some good came out. I had my first kiss last night. With a guy who has helped me through all this. He's been with me every night since I left my house and he's helped me stay out of terrible moods that would no doubt have overcome me if he hadn't been there to cheer me up, to give me advice, to hug me.

And I'm so sorry about that, Caroline, though I know I shouldn't be. I hate being Ruby Oliver and wish that things were easier. I wish I hadn't been afraid to talk to you about all of this because it feels wrong trying to be careful and skirt around the details with my best friend. I never thought that I wouldn't be able to immediately tell you that a guy kissed me. I never thought that I would have to eliminate anything from any of my stories.

But I'm still unbelievably happy about this. I like him a lot and I like spending my time with him. I hope you can be happy for me. I don't want something like this to throw our friendship out of whack. I love you and don't want to have to miss you.

Heather

But I'm smiling at everything

tell me in simple words everything

Remember when we all used to blog often? I looked at my sidebar and I've only had 11 posts this year. And it's halfway over. What happened? Did we all suddenly get busy? Did we all develop lives in the last 7 months?

I apologize for never having posted on Don't Fret like I said I would. I can still post that poem I wrote for english class, but I have nothing else. Honestly, I haven't written in over a month. I kind of started a poem a couple weeks ago, but that's it. And you know, I think the problem is that I have too much to say and not enough fiction. My moleskine is getting lonely, but I'm okay with that right now.

So I was sitting in my room listening to Tickle Me Pink (they are accommodating to every mood, I have discovered) and thinking about things. I had given up on Wuthering Heights and my AP work for the day and was just kind of sitting there, which I've been doing a lot lately when I'm not out with someone. I looked at the drawings I have hung up on my wall and I realized I have no idea what I want to do or what I'm doing with my life. It's not like I just have no clue, though. I do have a clue. I want to be an architect or interior designer or graphic designer or own an inn or a bookstore or study sociology (don't know what I'd do with that, but I'd love to study it) or become a publisher or an editor or something amazing. I guess that's something to figure out in the next year or two.

But now, I just have to figure out what I'm doing tomorrow. Also, I have to figure out what to do in a completely new situation. This summer has put me in so many new positions that I don't know how to handle. And why does my horoscope have to be right this month? Gah! Did I ask for this? Could it be possible that I subconsciously wanted any of this to happen? Is this a wish gone awry? I couldn't have asked for this specifically. These are definitely questions running through my mind every night before I fall asleep, or any time I'm sitting in my room listening to music. I mean, I really don't like him.

And the worst part of it all is--the tragic truth is...I almost enjoy it. Or, at least, parts of it. I've never had someone call me beautiful this much. I've never had a guy look directly into my eyes like he does. If it was possible to kick myself for feeling so indecisive even though I know what I truly feel about it all...I would. A thousand times over I would kick myself.

I just want to stop sighing.

Heather

you thought you'd never say