(no subject)
Today was very uneventful, very boring, but still more interesting than some people's lives. Sad, isn't it? That a boring day of my life is still more exciting than the most interesting days of some people I know? Oh well. Anyways, I awoke and was rather surprised that I couldn't remember much of last night. But it generally came back to me. And it was definitively the best party that I've ever been to. But my friends told me that I was kissing and licking a lot more people than I thought that I did. Fuck. Nicole said she was joking when she called me a slutty drunk, but maybe she wasn't.
I went to Wal-Mart to do some shopping, and I didn't think much of myself. My hair was down and straightened. I was wearing a white cheer sweatshirt and my favorite, most flattering pair of warm-up pants with some flip flops. Some makeup, but not much. I was wandering in the cosmetics section when this lady approaches me and asks me if I want to try modeling. She gave me her business card and told me to call her. She asked me where I worked, and she didn't believe me when I said I was in high school. I'm pretty sure it must be a scam or something, though. Then this guy who looked like Taye Diggs hit on me. He walked by and saw the cookies in my cart and said with this really cute smile, "You buying those for me?" I laughed and whatnot, but it never went past that. He looked really old, like in his twenties. I never thought I looked that old. I mean, people have told me that I could pass for eighteen or nineteen, but lately I've been passing for my early twenties. Am I really that old?
But then again, I am growing up a lot. People ask me how old I am, and I still say sixteen...and then I remember, "Oh, wait, I'm seventeen now."
Tumbling was uneventful. I laid around and generally did nothing. When Jim found me hiding behind a mat and napping with Erin by me, he told me to get up and do my backhandspring. I told him I was wounded and couldn't. He didn't fight me, for once. He just shook his head and walked off. It was the last tumbling session I'll ever have to take.
Why? Because I came to the conclusion that I won't do competition squad next year. I'll do varsity, but I won't do competition. It's a little sad, since I feel like I should hang on for my senior year, but it's the right decision. I'm tired of all the practices, of all the drama, of all the tumbling, of all the work, of all the monotony. I'll miss the stunting, since I would be one of the best bases next year. But do I really want to be the one learning all the complicated stunt sequences? Not really. I want to cheer at games, and only games. I want more time off my senior year to work and go out and maybe even take those drum lessons I always wanted to. Plus, my dad said that if I quit, I can travel more - like to Florida or Mexico. Additionally, if I quit competition squad, I can get my eyebrow pierced since I would have to remove my jewelry less. People will be really pissed when they hear I'm quitting. Jess, Bridget, and Skye will probably rape me over it. My coach won't be pleased either. But this decision is for me. No one can sway me.
I miss Casey still. Fuck. I was so close to getting on him this weekend, but then people just had to go and call the cops. At least I looked good when he saw me.
I did some scrapbooking tonight. It has become essential for me to record my life. I will soon print out the history of my online journals, since the very beginning of freshman year through now. I am going to finish up my scrapbook, adding in pictures and whatnot. I just don't want to be forgotten. I want to leave a record behind. I want people to see my pictures, and read my words, and not forget me. I think this week I'll go and take some more pictures of things - like the old foster house I had, like the messy abusive home, like my new car, like the sight of my car accident, stuff like that.
Upon reading more of philosophy, I think I'm a nihilist.
I'm so tired, but I don't want to go to sleep. Just a few more hours until practice at 6 AM... But I keep on telling myself: only two more practices, and Nationals, and then you're done with competition squad forever. And if I don't spend any money on food in Minneapolis, I can save my $80 from my dad and get both my nipples pierced when I get back home. (Or, if they don't pierce those until I'm 18, I could get a new tattoo or a navel piercing or something.) I'm so excited. I haven't gotten pierced in a long time. I just need to survive this last week of cheerleading...
I went to Wal-Mart to do some shopping, and I didn't think much of myself. My hair was down and straightened. I was wearing a white cheer sweatshirt and my favorite, most flattering pair of warm-up pants with some flip flops. Some makeup, but not much. I was wandering in the cosmetics section when this lady approaches me and asks me if I want to try modeling. She gave me her business card and told me to call her. She asked me where I worked, and she didn't believe me when I said I was in high school. I'm pretty sure it must be a scam or something, though. Then this guy who looked like Taye Diggs hit on me. He walked by and saw the cookies in my cart and said with this really cute smile, "You buying those for me?" I laughed and whatnot, but it never went past that. He looked really old, like in his twenties. I never thought I looked that old. I mean, people have told me that I could pass for eighteen or nineteen, but lately I've been passing for my early twenties. Am I really that old?
But then again, I am growing up a lot. People ask me how old I am, and I still say sixteen...and then I remember, "Oh, wait, I'm seventeen now."
Tumbling was uneventful. I laid around and generally did nothing. When Jim found me hiding behind a mat and napping with Erin by me, he told me to get up and do my backhandspring. I told him I was wounded and couldn't. He didn't fight me, for once. He just shook his head and walked off. It was the last tumbling session I'll ever have to take.
Why? Because I came to the conclusion that I won't do competition squad next year. I'll do varsity, but I won't do competition. It's a little sad, since I feel like I should hang on for my senior year, but it's the right decision. I'm tired of all the practices, of all the drama, of all the tumbling, of all the work, of all the monotony. I'll miss the stunting, since I would be one of the best bases next year. But do I really want to be the one learning all the complicated stunt sequences? Not really. I want to cheer at games, and only games. I want more time off my senior year to work and go out and maybe even take those drum lessons I always wanted to. Plus, my dad said that if I quit, I can travel more - like to Florida or Mexico. Additionally, if I quit competition squad, I can get my eyebrow pierced since I would have to remove my jewelry less. People will be really pissed when they hear I'm quitting. Jess, Bridget, and Skye will probably rape me over it. My coach won't be pleased either. But this decision is for me. No one can sway me.
I miss Casey still. Fuck. I was so close to getting on him this weekend, but then people just had to go and call the cops. At least I looked good when he saw me.
I did some scrapbooking tonight. It has become essential for me to record my life. I will soon print out the history of my online journals, since the very beginning of freshman year through now. I am going to finish up my scrapbook, adding in pictures and whatnot. I just don't want to be forgotten. I want to leave a record behind. I want people to see my pictures, and read my words, and not forget me. I think this week I'll go and take some more pictures of things - like the old foster house I had, like the messy abusive home, like my new car, like the sight of my car accident, stuff like that.
Upon reading more of philosophy, I think I'm a nihilist.
I'm so tired, but I don't want to go to sleep. Just a few more hours until practice at 6 AM... But I keep on telling myself: only two more practices, and Nationals, and then you're done with competition squad forever. And if I don't spend any money on food in Minneapolis, I can save my $80 from my dad and get both my nipples pierced when I get back home. (Or, if they don't pierce those until I'm 18, I could get a new tattoo or a navel piercing or something.) I'm so excited. I haven't gotten pierced in a long time. I just need to survive this last week of cheerleading...