Love Story

I have been listening to that song (Love Story – Taylor Swift [i know, country]) for like a non-stop week. I don’t know why I just really love it; I think it’s that inner “hopeless romantic” in me. Yeah, hopeless.

For those of you who don’t know the song, and you can watch the video on Youtube for clarification from the lyrics, it starts out about two highschoolers who meet and have an instant connection. In seconds, the girl has a “flashback” (more like a fantasy) of herself and himself in a different time. As if they had met before, but in a different life as different people. He is Romeo, crossing a crowded ballroom to dance with her, and she is his fair Juliet; they dance and the instant attraction is of course made.
But her father disagrees with the thought of a relationship. The lyrics never specifiy why, but you could easily guess that it was for the same reason Shakespeares’ Romeo was not good for his Juliet. Status. So they sneak around to see each other, all in the dead of night, under shadow, and love springs forth. Juliet wants the two of them to run away together, because he is everything to her. What is it about the forbidden fruit that makes it seem all the more delectable?
The song ends with the two of them meeting on the outskirts of town, and her expression of: ‘Romeo save me, I’ve been feeling so alone. I keep waiting on you, but you never show. Is this in my head? I don’t know what to think…’ and it is then that he kneels and proposes to her. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone. I love you and that’s all I really know. I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress; it’s a love story, baby just say ‘yes’.”

*sigh * I know. Adorable isn’t it?
And a little cliche, but we all need some of that now and then.
I am finished with two FULL chapters of ‘Jasper’. The short story, hopefully novel, that I started a while back. I have the final chapter, and one that is towards the beginning. I say towards because I’m not quiet sure where to begin his story. Early teens? That’d be confusing because his pianist skills wouldn’t be fully appreciated then. Early childhood? No, because then his mother would still be alive and we’d have to go through the pain of losing her. Present day? Impossible, because we would need know how the friendship with Melony started and spiraled.

But I’ve already gotten several key scenes/half-chapters jotted down and saved in documents on my laptop. I wish I could work on it 24/7, but the constant pain of sleep and school keeps me from doing that. And blast, my procrastination has already kept me from working on the two essays I should be working on over Fall Break. I’m going to be so screwed if I don’t get them done before this weekend. I keep putting them off. Friday, maybe? No, going to the movies with someone. Tomorrow? That’s effen Thanksgiving, so I’ll be cooking all day! Saturday? Seeing my dad. Sunday? That’s the day before they are DUE!.

Procrasination in teens is the leading cause of Monday morning caffeine hangovers.
Grr. But I can’t stop writing.

So, there was this mummy…

No, not my mummy; King Tut.

For those of you that don’t know, my father was in the hospital again from early Monday and will be there until he is fully recovered from his latest surgery. They had to clip an aneurysm from the left side of his head, had to shave that part of his head and everything to get to it (he wasn’t too thrilled about that), and I’ve been tired and aching with no rest and plenty of stress since early Monday.
I took Monday & Tuesday off from school because I really couldn’t deal with daily school stress and hospital stress, plus I wanted to be there every waking second he was, as long as I could. He should be in recovery well past Thanksgiving Day; probably get out the Friday after that or so. Which sucks. Because I really want to see my dad for Thanksgiving, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be able to happen; but honetly I’d rather him get this treatment done so he can be well again without the deadly brain problems.
My dad has been such a trooper through this whole thing, not breaking down even once even when face with the threat of complex brain surgery on the motor/sensory strip of his brain. For those of you that don’t know, one “surgery slip” could make it to where he would have to learn how to talk, walk, and remember things all over again. He could literally forget how to remember stuff: it’s some serious shiz.
So as you could imagine I have been a nervous wrecking-ball. But the “family” members (quite the judgmental, gossiping crew) that were up there with me today during the actual surgery aren’t very supportive of that kind of thing (total FREAK out), so I walked out my nerves.
Emory Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia is where he was having the surgery, and that is on the campus of Emory College. HUGE college, mostly medical students, varrying anywhere from Anthropology to Psychology to study of Anicent medicines, etc, etc. It is a gorgeous campus, and I got to see alot of the grandure today. Simple fact: when I get nervous, I cannot just sit still in one waiting room, in one chair with no blanket, no one to really talk to, for seven hours to wait for my father to get out of brain surger. Another fact: when I do get nervous, I like to get up and walk around. The more stressed I get, the more I walk.
Originally I had just planned on going outside to get some cold air in my face so I wouldn’t bust into tears in front of my family. I’m good at hiding that part of myself from them most of the time, but when I told my dad good luck and that I was praying for him as he was wheeled back into Pre-OP, it was brimming. So I walked away from them and down the stairs to Ground Level, bought myself a hot White Mochiatto Starbucks Coffee, and sat myself down on the cement/stone wall parallel to the sidewalk. I called my friend Cayla (who is in college at West Georgia) and talked to her for a good while, but ended up just sitting alone, in silence, watching the college students go by in an assortment of different ways: bus, speed-walking, alot of bikes, and one guy with these funny orange and pink roller skates.

Tidbit you should know: the one thing that would keep me occupied, my READING BOOK, I left at home because I was rushed out the door at 6:30 AM this morning. And the comfy wall I was sitting on with my coffee was right across the street from the “Cardel Library” — one of the many buildings on campus. Only used by students and teachers and other people that know where the heck they are and what the heck they’re doing. I am none of those things. But I was itching for something to read (like desperate), so I jumped off the wall and headed down the brick path toward the library. An hour later, I go back to check on my dad, and return to my stone wall. This process is not easy, because you have to go through the doors, down this hallway, up these specific elevators, follow this hallway down to this waiting room, through these automatic doors, passed the nosy nurses asking me ‘Are you lost’ every five seconds, and down three rows of beds before I get to the one my dad is waiting at to be taken back to Pre-OP. UGH.
So I finished my coffee and just started walking. I couldn’t sit around anymore — at this point I’d been siting around for two hours, and my nerves were starting to really bother me. Not wanting to cry, I improvished: exercise, experience, and experiment. Weird, even for me. I took off walking down the freezing streets of Atlanta, crossing over to the college buildings. I strode through like I owned the place, and like I knew just exactly where I was headed. In all honesty, I didn’t have a clue because I’d never gotten a real good look at anything in midtown Atlanta.
The architecture of the buildings was phenomenoly beautiful, big, white, polished marble walls that gleam in the sunlight, with precariously perched GARGOYLES (wicked cool) and other structures along the top, winding dusted green filaments all of the tops of the buildings and lining the windows. I think I marveled at every single building before I’d even walked through the square. I’ve never wanted to be a college student so bad in my life. Ever! I just wanted to run back to a dorm room that I could call mine, snuggling with my college boyfriend (something about guys just turns HOT when they’re in college), going in and out of these beautiful buildings and having so much access to so much knowledge and creativity that it’s mindboggling. But I wasn’t, so I dared not enter three of the buildings that were filled mostly with “classrooms.”
I did go on the museum (bigger than fifteen of my houses, no joke); and, here’s where the mummy stuff comes in, they had this giant display and multiple art galleries dedicated to King Tut’s memory and reproductions of the artwork done to his tomb&casket. Howard Carter, a brilliant copyist, crafted all these pieces of ‘Rah’, the Sun God of the Egyptians, and dozens of other sculptures found in King Tut’s Tomb, in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. Egyptian stuff fascinates me, and I literally spent an hour & a half just in that one building looking at all the crazy stuff…and most of that time was spent on the Egyptian & Roman floors.
Okay, THAT was my explore, and my part of my experience. The rest, the exercise, obviously, was the running back and forth between the college campus and the hospital every time I would get a text message that there had been some change or update. I could have just called, but I’m more of a “hands on” person. Plus, all the sidewalks in that place aren’t exactly “flat”, so you’re hiking up mountains and falling down slopes walking around the buildings. But there was this one wide courtyard place completely blocked off from anyone else’s view except the alumnis’. It had giant oak & maple trees planted, the American flag on a flagstand in the middle, with bright green grass and sitting areas all over the place. I saw the most comfortable, cute little couple sitting on a blanket together just laughing and hugging each other, completely oblivious to the busy, crazed city bustling around them. They were so cute I just wanted to grab a pen & paper and sketch them, write a story about them, a song, a poem, something. One day I just might — who friggin knows when I will have the time to do something I want to do.
Experiment: try to act like a college kid.
LAME, right? : try to act like you blend in, smile at most of the people you see, and always look like you’re on schedule for something and that you are just enjoying this place. : TRY and marvel at the gorgeous sites around you without looking like a tourist that just stepped on to campus. Not as easy as it sounds, but I must have accomplished it because I had what looked like a Freshman girl come up to me and ask, “Um, excuse me, do you know where Building A, Mr. Cyran’s Behavioral Studies II class is?” I looked around for a second, realized she was talking to me, and explained to her that (1) I couldn’t tell her, because I didn’t go to this college, and (2) that the Psychology buliding was straight through that pathway, and once inside the building I’m sure there’s all kinds of signs (like there is everywhere else) to direct her to where she needed to be. I was like….someone mistook me for a college kid?

Wicked siiiick. I mean awesome. Ahem, friggin awesome.
It was really easy to focus on that and try to forget the problems going on at the hospital just a 1/4 of a mile away. I walked for hours, it seemed, never being able to or wanting to sit down. I told one of my friends that if my dad keeps having surgeries, I might damn well get skinny.

Walking can be fun, keeps you focused and alert, so long as you have the right scene to look at or the right person to share it with. I’d love to bring a few of my friends up here and show them all the amazing stuff you, as a non-alumni, non-student, can do! I wish I was in college!

New Music! :]

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I’m done here

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

[-Chrous-]

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest.

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I made

I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

[-Chorus-]
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be misssed.


Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting
All the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well

Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself
I can’t be who you are

[-Chorus-]
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting
All the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well

Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself
I can’t be who you are
I can’t be who you are.”

SURPRISINGLY, that is the lyrics to the new song “Leave Out All the Rest”, by Linkin Park. I’ve always liked the band, but for totally different reasons — they were usually the band that got me pumped up, also a good band to listen to when you are in the “I’m a teenager and I hate the world” mode we all get in. =) But this song is really touching because it hits on a one of the key thoughts that scare me.

Will I make any significant imprint on this world before I die and become nonexistant? Will I touch a single person’s heart before I’m gone, or will a single person truly miss seeing me or talking to me if I’m not around any more?

A tad depressing, but it’s not meant to be. It’s more scary, if anything else. To fear that you might not mean anything.
And I don’t mean with my family — I’m sure SOME of my family would sadden at the thought of my absence. But my friends? Strangers that know my “acquaintenance”? Am I just another part of their daily rountine, or could I do something that made me exceptionally extraordinary, so that someone remembered me as a good, as a loving person?

I’d like to think so. And if it’s not true now, I will strive to make an impact. One someone. Now, or thirty years down the road. The things that worries me, is that no one ever knows how long they have in this life to MAKE that impact.
I love this band. Forgive the long lyrics, but I had to post the whole thing to get the effect. Actually, you really have to hear it to get the whole effect. It’s such a tempered down, almost “slow” song for them. But I love it, and the lyrics are very moving.
I’ve also discovered a band named “Blue Foundation”. Didn’t listen to them till today, when a good friend of mine recommended them. They are a new entry into my “calm down” playlist, joining the list with Enya, Paramore (another surprise), Burnwell, Beethoven, Perry Farwell, & Collective Soul. :))

It’s bedtime, toodles!

Vegetarian Vampire? Wah?

Yes — I am a vegetarian. I don’t eat anything that has meat in it.
What alot of people around here don’t seem to understand, is that that does not mean I am a veagan. I eat cheese, and dairy products, I can eat anything I want to; I just don’t want to eat meat. It’s a personal choice for my own reasons and for some reason people are having a hard time grasping that.
286 days so far! :]]] My one year mark will be coming up soon enough.

I’ve been all giggles & smiles lately because it is less than two weeks until the much anticipated ‘Twilight‘ movie premieres. 12 days, acshually. And it couldn’t get here any sooner! A friend of mine already has a bootleg copy of it on pirated DVD — but I won’t even give her the time of day to ask to see it. When I see Twilight, at least for the first time, it is going to be on the official Big Screen, enjoying every minute of romance, thrill, and action that it has.
No way will the movie compare to the book, I’m well aware of that and have gotten plenty of criticizm for looking forward to it so much. But I know that for true Twilight fans, anything about the Twilight Saga that we haven’t seen (pictures, posters, trailers, the move) is important to look at. I’ve watched alot of interviews with Stephenie Meyer because she is a best-selling, amazing author. She gives tips to upcoming writers, and I love hearing her talk with someone else about the book because I  like to talk about the book.

But that’s just me. 12 days… 🙂 That Thursday I’m going to be completely impossible to talk to, hehe.

Super, beautiful November morning. November. This year is going by too fast.

Change

Last year — my 10th grade year — my best friend was Alex.
Alex was most of what I thought about, all of what I talked about, and I quickly realized that I was beginning to like him. He wasn’t “beautiful”, wasn’t “gorgeous”; but he was handsome. He was strong and I 100% out of my league. I used to think in leagues. I used to think, “Hey, ME and HIM? Wow…no way ever possible.” But that didn’t keep me from trying so much to grab his attention and hold it on me. I’d flirt with him, do special things for him, I had him over at my house a few times, and I thought that I was really falling for him. He was my best male friend; made me laugh, and was the object of my adoration.

And then I found out he was moving and it was like someone had punched me. Punched me right in the face, in the gut, like they had kicked out the legs from under me and I didn’t have anyone or anything to stand on anymore. No, I wasn’t in love with him — not in the least. Alex was someone I lusted over, I think, and love doesn’t exist in lust. I watched him wrestle and play football, but I never wondered what he did after I left him. I set him up with other girls, pretty, peppy, preppy, positive girls with big boobs and too much makeup because I was “that good of a friend”. But I was miserable.
Honestly: I think it was useless. My liking him was just as any male in America might “like” a cheerleader — they’re great to look at, but beyond the hot facade, there might not be anything else you like.
True, Alex had his sweet, catchy, sometimes even romantic moments where I would fawn and “awwh” over him. But after he moved away, now those things don’t effect me anymore. He was a drug that was removed from my life, and now he has drifted from my thoughts. I rarely think of him anymore, anything more than a friend I can chat with when I’m bored or when I need someone to comfort me.

And I have new comforters. New friends, both guys and girls, who I can call and whose shoulder I can cry on if the need came to it. I’m trying to keep myself from falling into another situation like that because it was really rough on me emotionally. You try thinking you really, really like your best friend, then have that best friend ripped away from you, and after three months of sadness you realize that it’s his face you miss, not his spirit or his laugh or his words. You don’t miss his goofy ways or strange taste in music. I missed him — I still do — he was my best friend and he was a damn good friend. But as hard as it is to think or say, or even type, he was replaceable.

Alex is out. And its rough to try and let someone else in, but I’ve done it. I’ve let someone else occupy my thoughts, my dreams, my feelings, if even only for a second. If only I have one dream or one thought flutter through my mind in a month’s time, it’s happened. And I’m straining to not feel guarded and suspicious. Would someone else hurt me like that without realizing it? It’s so very possible. But no reward without risks, right? *sigh*

I hope you’re right, becca.