This is Weird

Sooo. I recently realized that I have this fear that people don't actually like me. It's weird. I've never really had that kind of insecurity before. I guess I used to not really care if people liked me or not. But I think I've finally realized how catty and awful high school is (I know. Really? I'm a junior in high school and I'm just now seeing how ugly it is? Don't worry - I'm super perplexed too). I've mostly been trying to figure out why people like me. If they like me, as they claim to. I feel like I have some friends that I'm really unsure why they like me. I don't really know if it's a self-esteem thing, or if I'm reading too much into everything and being too over-analytical, or if people are just as fake as I fear they are. (There might be some people out there reading this who are thinking it's in reference to them. Don't worry. It's not. I hope?) This is sounding entirely too emo and I hadn't planned on that happening. My original intention was to write something at least semi-amusing, but it's not really coming out that way. I'm going to keep trying. So I've been wondering why people put up with me. And if they put up with me simply because they feel obligated to put up with me, or if they genuinely like me and my weird quirks. Like my irrational fear of tomato seeds. And my penchant for screaming whenever my Pop-Tarts pop out of the toaster. Or the bizarre fact that I seem to kind of have a little bit of my own language and that I sometimes make weird and random noises. Or that I have too many Tweets/Facebook statuses. Or that I write nonsensical blog posts like this. I don't know what I was hoping to accomplish through this post, but I've come too far just to delete it, so I guess I'm going to publish it... If you're reading this, I apologize. I don't like that this is one huge block of text, but Blogger is apparently deciding to be a little bitchy today and not let me start different paragraphs. Oh well. I'm going to stop talking now.

Yep, You Put Me Right Back in My Place

There are some days when I wake up and I don't really give a shit what anybody says about me.

These are few and far between. There used to be a time when I woke up like this every day. I used to have some semblance of something kind of like self-confidence.

Before I get too far off topic, let me finish that self-depricating tangent by saying, "today was one of those days."

Really. I was happy. I let loose. I had two cups of coffee, so I was giggly and outspoken and most like the me that I like. I was happy with what I was wearing. I was happy with my face. I was happy with my hair. Everything seemed to be working in my favor. My English teacher called me 'hilarious.' The world seemed to like me.

And then, as I was sitting with my mom, eating a bowl of Samoa ice cream (satisfying at the time), we began discussing prom.

Mom: So has any of the prom drama started yet?
Me: Not really.
(silence for a moment, as we watch 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban')
Me: I'm not really looking forward to it.
Mom: Prom drama? I don't think it'll affect you much.
Me: Any of it. I know I'm going to have a really hard time finding a dress...
Mom: Yeah. I mean, anything you find will probably require major alteration.
Me: Wow. Thanks, Mom.
Mom: I mean, like, in terms of length. I mean...even with heels...
Me: Uh-huh.
(more silence)
Me: I'm not going if I don't have a date. Just saying.
Mom: (laughs) WHERE are you going to get a prom date?
Me: Wh...
Mom: You don't even like any of the boys.
Me: Wow. Ouch. Okay. Goodnight, Mom.

Yeah.
I have been remissed.

Give Me Pain, If That's What's Real

So.
Today.

It was really awful to start. I don't know why. I was in a really tired, melancholy mood that I just couldn't snap out of for some reason. I was just super quiet (a rarity) and I was just exhausted and kind of disillusioned by everything.

After I left school, I had an orthodontist appointment. Let me just explain that going to the orthodontist makes me act like a hugely bitchy, hormonal teenager. It might have something to do with the fact that I've had my braces for almost five years (five! FIVE!) and that my original orthodontist has since passed away (I know, right?). Nothing makes me act more like a teenager than orthodontia. Anyway, since my orthodontist, who I loved, died, this new guy took over. I do not like him. I get weird vibes from him. And he's rather large, and he breathes really heavily, and his fingers are big and my mouth isn't all that big (sounds kind of dirty)(just saying) and it's just a really awkward experience every time he works on me. Like, why is the heel of your hand doing in my eye socket? I do not know, but please remove it.

So, anyway, I had to wait to be called back for 45 minutes, and the next 45 were spent battling two of my brackets because they wouldn't close or something and it really hurt and they had to try like three different things. Yes. I was in my sketchy orthodontist office for an hour and a half. Then I came home, gathered some things, and had to take off for voice, where both my teacher and I were in terrible moods and pouting.

Then I left voice and flew to the school to munchkin sit, because the middle school is doing "The Wizard of Oz" and I get NHS hours for munchkin sitting. Cool.

That's where the fun began.

All the middle school kids had entirely too much energy, and all us high school kids just did not. We munchkin sitters actually ended up putting together a 24-piece Winnie the Pooh puzzle and coloring more than the munchkins did. It was comical.

Then Chelsea and I went on a Starbucks run and were making weird gargling noises at each other in line when the guy in front of us turns around and says, "You guys are really scaring me."

It was hilarious.

Then we got back and had to reassemble the choir room and sit on some munchkins and middle schoolers (not really) while we discussed Chelsea's love life. We were all just really exhausted, but it was really fun, and we laughed a lot, and usually far too loudly (or, I did, at least).

"It looks like two green flamingos had vigorous sex in the hallway, because there are feathers all over the place."

(See what I mean?)

Suspended Reality

Hi. It's been awhile. I'm sorry. Also I should be sleeping right now (why do I feel like a lot of my blog posts open with that?) but I felt the need to reach out...into that black, dark hole of nothingness that I send my thoughts into.

Anyway, I've realized that I've been confusing my dreams with reality a lot lately. Which, honestly, is kind of depressing. It says that I dream about stuff that's mundane enough that I can easily get it mixed up with my reality. Like school. The other night, I had a dream that I went to do my Chemistry post-lab questions and there was only 1. I was really disappointed when I went to do them for real in study hall the next morning and there were 4 instead of just 1.

That same night, I dreamed that I read the wrong English essay for a homework assignment. It was the same title, but the completely wrong essay. I read the one that was 12 pages long, and we were supposed to read the one that was a page and a half long. I remember being really perplexed in my dream. Why were there two essays named the same thing? That's misleading.

Yeah, the following day was a little like "Groundhog Day," only not really.

But I also got to thinking...you know that state you fall into where you're not sleeping, but not NOT sleeping? Where everything is peaceful, and calm, and simple? The one where everything seems perfect, or at least until you start falling?

I like it there. And for all intents and purposes, I'm going to call it 'suspended reality.' I'm sure it has a technical dreamology-related term, but I prefer to think of it as suspended reality.

But doesn't it seem like everything is better in suspended reality? It's better than reality. It's better than dreaming, even, because sometimes, as I've come to realize, reality infiltrates your dreams. We use dreaming as an escape from reality, but what happens when reality takes over, especially when we don't particularly want it to? I mean, it's one thing if your reality is perfectly wonderful, and everything you want it to be. Then it's okay if you want to spend all your time there. It's understandable. But I feel like that's not really all that realistic. Or common. I'm starting to think suspended reality is our only escape from our reality, which we often can't control, and our dreams, which can't really be controlled either.

I can't control suspended reality, or anything, but it sure is quaint there.