Thursday, April 7, 2011

"We Can't Go Back. We Can't Go Back At All."


Yep, the Paramore lyrics are definitely necessary in this post.
This isn't as much a complaint as much as it is a bit of a pretty common confliction.
I'm sure everyone has delt with the feeling of wanting to go back to the past & make certain things right...or at least just change them around a little bit.
Coming up on age 20, I've been struggling with that feeling A Lot lately.
Now before anyone loses their shit, I know I'm still young & this shit is only going to get worse as I get older.
I know, I know.
But here's the deal:
I used to go to school with this guy, let's call him RichKid.
I was only in school with RichKid for 2 years (5th & 6th grade), & I pretty much began ruining my rep while I was in this school.
It was a private, Catholic, college-prep school & I had just left an unacceptably easy public school.
I didn't understand any of the work they assigned in this school, so I didn't do it.
I stopped caring about my appearance.
I started making enemies.
I started acting strange.
& by the time you knew it, I was a bona fide freak by junior high.
RichKid & I were never best friends.
In almost all of my memories of him, he's wearing a dark blue turtleneck, kaki slacks pulled up to his nose, & that smug, prick-ish look rich kids always have on their faces.
My only decent memory of RichKid was going to a Halloween party at his house in 6th grade.
He lived in a huge mansion, & he kept bragging about how when they first moved there, his older brother got lost inside.
At the party, RichKid's parents paid for a gigantic tent to be put in his backyard where the party was held.
No shit. This thing was so big, it had a dancefloor & fog machine in it.
I remember sticking with RichKid the entire time we were in the tent & though we weren't normally buddies, we were definitely cool that night.
The last time I saw RichKid in person was in 8th or 9th grade when I went back to visit all my old "friends".
I went into the cafeteria & talked to as many people as I could but RichKid never came to talk to me. He just sat at his table with his weird new girlfriend, eyeing me like a fucking predator.
Whatever, anyway.
RichKid & I have been friends on Facebook for about 2 years now & we literally haven't spoken to each other since the last day of 6th grade.
Here's My Confliction:
RichKid grew up to be the most painfully handsome, funny, intelligent & self-sufficient guy I've ever had the displeasure of saying I once knew.
He's stunning, athletic, goes to a very good college, makes his own money (& lot's of it), has his own apartment, & pretty much does whatever the fuck he wants to do whenever the fuck he wants to do it.
Since RichKid went to the school I basically flunked out of, he was set up to go to any college he wanted. He's also effortlessly smart & his dad is a computer genius which obviously rubbed off on him.
RichKid has over 1,000 friends on Facebook & the majority of them are girls...pretty girls...smart, pretty girls...smart, pretty girls who seem to feel the same way about him as I do.
It irritates me that I left such a bad taste in people's mouths, just because I didn't know who I was back then.
I wasn't rich.
I was incredibly annoying.
& I've never been anywhere near a genius.
I added my best friend & first crush from that damn school, Graham (oh hai, real name), on Facebook around the time I added RichKid.
A few months ago, I noticed Graham deleted his Facebook & because he moved to New York City & started a new life after high school, I figured that was probably a smart idea.
3 days ago, I decided to follow an old link to Graham's Facebook in a tagged photo of me, Graham, RichKid & all the other fools in our 5th grade class.
Come to find out, he does still have a Facebook & he stayed friends with everyone in our class but me.
We have 24 mutual friends & that's way bigger than our small little 12 person class back then.
Ugh, so annoying.
I'm feeling this incessant urge to prove myself all the fucking time now.
I want to prove that I'm not that crazy little girl.
I've grown up into a (somewhat) mature, intelligent, & extremely quiet adult.
I can make anyone laugh.
I care too much about everyone.
& I can write you a fucking A+ essay in my sleep.
I'd hate for people to think I'm still the same person after 10 long-ass years.
RichKid & I share a birthday.
Awkward.
Not only does my current crush have the same birthday, he officially shares the girliest fucking birthday on the planet. Haha.
I've been going back on forth about whether or not I should even bother wishing him a happy birthday.
Stupid issue, I'm well aware.
I want to try to be a little less shy at age 20.
I'm often dead silent unless someone is talking to me & I almost never strike up a conversation unless someone has pretty nails or a Slayer shirt on.
I want the people from my past to know I'm different now.
I wish RichKid could see me as someone who's probably smarter than all of the daddy's-girls he fucks & someone who could be his best friend.
I can't go back & change who I used to be, or all the stupid shit I embarassed myself with.
I can only continue to try to be the person I've always dreamed of being & hope that someone as fucking awesome as I am decides to come along for the ride.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Holy Fucking God.


This site has become a makeshift gripe-session center for me & after this post, I'm going to try to get some positivity going on around here.
When I was in 8th grade, I would take a bath after dinner every night.
Incidentally, my friend would call me at the exact same time every single night, while I was taking a bath.
So what did my mom do?
Answer the phone, come into my bedroom, knock on my bathroom door & tell me I had a phone call.
Then I would spend my only alone time, talking to my friend in the bathtub.
Awkward, right?
Totally.
So, at some point I told my mom she needs to stop telling people I'm available when I'm trying to take bath...or when I'm in the bathroom in general.
She was understanding & I was once again able to bathe in peace.
So today, my day went a little bit like this:
-Get up at 6:00, wake my mom up at 6:30
-Go to my shitty English class for an hour
-Drive to my mom's doctor's appointment where I sat in a waiting room for over an hour
-Go grocery shopping
-Come home
...It's doesn't seem like a lot on paper but if you factor in the fact I don't sleep at night & all of this fucking rain, I was EXHAUSTED.
At some point when I got home, I mentioned to my mom that I was considering taking a break from a certain friend of mine.
I often need to take time away from friends because a lot of my friends have the ability of driving me up a wall.
I explained that I basically needed some Mariah-time as opposed to Friend-time.
Again, my mom seemed understanding & I felt like I'd made a good decision.
Around 1 p.m., I told my mom I was going to take a nap & retreated into my bedroom.
Before I fell asleep, I noticed the friend I'd been referring to had texted me 3 times saying "Let's Hang Out".
Everyone who knows me knows I take naps like you read about.
Whether I plan them or not, I have the tendency to pass out in any given place in the afternoon.
I didn't respond to the texts, figuring she would assume I was asleep &...well, fuck off.
So, I pass out.
Like hardcore, dead asleep.
I was dreaming about Beyonce when my mom woke me up by knocking on my door.
I didn't respond the first time hoping she'd get the hint I was half-unconscious, but the knocking continued & then got louder.
Me: What?
Mom: [Friend] is here!
Me: I'm taking a nap...
Mom: C'mon, Mariah.
No, after me not responding to her texts, did this chick have the fucking nerve to show up to my house.
Yes, she did.
When I still didn't respond to this, I heard my mom walk away & tell my friend to try to wake me up herself.
So for the next 2 minutes or so, I listened to my friend repeatedly knock on my bedroom door, try to turn my locked doorknob & call my name.
At this point I was so tired & so annoyed, all I wanted to do was cry.
Friend finally left & I, of course, went right back to sleep, but the annoyance that came from that situation is sticking with me.
Maybe I'm just being dramatic, but I feel so disrespected.
If I can't sleep in my bedroom what the fuck can I do?
My room is the only personal space I have (I don't even have my own car) & when I feel like that place is being invaded, I get upset.
This is not answering the phone in the bathtub in 8th grade.
This is waking an almost-20-year-old college student up from a nap after a long day, just so I can go out with the friend whom I previously explained I was trying to take a break from.
What in the fuck?
Now that I'm completely awake, & will be for the rest of the night, I'm in that weird state where I almost can't believe that it actually happened.
I guess I just needed to vent on the subject but it's still bothering the hell out of me.
I need my space & I need my respect.
I don't understand what's so difficult about that.