Is Love Alive?

"This is my winter song, December never felt so wrong."

(From my new favorite song, "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. Check it out).

So we're 10 days away from Christmas.
Whaaaat?
I'm totally confused by this. Exams start the day after tomorrow, and I'm not freaking out yet. I usually freak majorly, but I'm oddly numb.

Anyway, that's not really my point at all.
My point is that even though I've been jamming to my Christmas station on my Pandora since early November, it still does not feel like the Christmas season at all.

We just got our tree yesterday. We didn't even get it at a tree farm like we usually do. It's usually this whole big outing, complete with snowball fights, hot chocolate, sledding, swearing, snow, and trees. My parents got the tree from Lowes. It's not decorated yet. It's ridiculous. I'm not happy about it.
I've hardly done any shopping, there have been zero shopping marathon days with my mom, we haven't made cookies together.

For God's sake, my mom and I haven't even watched 'Rudolph' and 'Charlie Brown' together. We do that EVERY year.

Issue 4 of "The Viking Views" comes out tomorrow, and in it is my column about all my awesome holiday traditions and why they make Christmas Christmas for me. I realized that I haven't done one of them yet.

And so far, this Christmas is lame.

Send in the Clowns

Tonight I attended the North Canton tree lighting ceremony with my friends.
Tonight I drove around North Canton with the windows of the car rolled down belting Josh Groban's version of 'O Holy Night' with my best friend's boyfriend.
Tonight I sang along with the Christmas carols of the Hoover Hi-Los.
Tonight I sprinted over a hill in an attempt to see Santa being driven down Main Street in a fire truck.
Tonight I ran (yeah, that's legit) from Bitzer Park to Caffe Gelato to try to get coffee to warm up.
Tonight I arrived at Caffe Gelato with my friends just as they were locking the doors.
Tonight I was hit on by an eighth-grade boy.
Tonight I thought my lungs were collapsing after running to Caffe Gelato.
Tonight I tried to drive my friends to Starbucks to get coffee after our failed attempt at Caffe Gelato.
Tonight I had to turn around when we were almost at Starbucks to because Chelsea was locked out of her house and was on her roof trying to break into her parents' bedroom window.
Tonight I had to go rescue my friend from the freezing cold after she jumped off the roof of her sunroom.
Tonight I blasted 'Christmas Bells' from 'Rent' with my frozen ninja friend on the ride the way back to Wuh's house.
Tonight I had to tackle my friends in order to get my car keys back from them as they tossed them back and forth between each other.
Tonight I had a lot of fun for the first time in a while, but for the second night in a row.
Tonight I am completely entertained by my life.

Home is Where the Heart Is

There is this house in Hartville that has seen better days.

It's a rather large house but it's not flashy. It can easily go unnoticed. If you look past its fading, chipping paint, overgrown grass and shrubs, and cracked windows, you can tell that it once was beautiful, and could be beautiful again.

You can tell that someone once loved it and that it unwittingly but unconditionally loved back. Its walls must have lovingly bared pictures and holiday decorations and been witness to family gatherings and mother to family heirlooms. It was once, maybe not so long ago, filled with laughter and light and love.

Now it appears hauntingly empty. You get the feeling that whoever left it didn't do so willingly. It was some tragedy that forced them out, and their only option was to leave the empty shell behind. Its only hope for improvement is the Howard-Hanna sign perched in the front lawn. Maybe someday soon it will rally and become a home again, instead of just a house.

Let's Be Realistic...

Today I realized that most of my goals in life are completely unrealistic or have been based off of completely unrealistic expectations.

Part of me is troubled by this. Most of me is not.

I guess these goals would more accurately be 'dreams.' So here's a brief list:

- Own a pony.
- Tour every Starbucks in the world until I find a Latte Boy...named Taylor.
- Be a part of a company that comes up with the names for nail polish colors. Seriously. They are so crafty.
- Go into print journalism (I know, doesn't that SOUND realistic? But who knows how much longer print journalismm will be alive).
- Be a part of at least one more musical before I die.
- Eat all the Hershey's Kisses I wanted and not gain a pound. Ever.
- Achieve the perfect self-manicure that would not start chipping less than 12 hours after its completion.
- Pass Spanish IV.
- Get an 8 on an AP English Essay.
- Do an open mic night at Caffe Gelato or some random adorable cafe such as that.
- Befriend someone famous.
- Read "The Bell Jar."
- Partake in a magical day of shopping where everything I like miraculously fits perfectly AND is on sale.
- Find a unicorn.
- Make Snuggies socially acceptable.
- Fall in love. And not get hurt.
- Understand why Crocs have not yet been banned from the universe.
- Write and publish a memoir.
- Persuade some poor network to make a sit-com based off my life.
- Own and restore classic cars. I don't know why but I have this thing for them.
- Be as admirable and adorable as some of my favorite book/movie characters.
- Never sacrifice who I am.

That's all for now. I should start writing this stuff down when I come up with it. It would be better that way.
Oh well. Good night!

"Aren't You Tired of Being the Strong One?"

Tonight, I saw "Wicked" for the third time.

My love for musicals is big. But "Wicked" and I have a special relationship. It's how I fell in love with musicals. I guess it's like shopping for wedding dresses - no matter how many you try on, how many fit, how many you like or love, even, it's usually the first one that sticks.


It doesn't get old. I still physically shake every time I see "Defying Gravity" performed live. I cry every time during "For Good." Every time I sit and watch it, I think of how it all started - the soundtrack that I got for my 13th birthday. The next year was the trip to Chicago to see it, which I consider to be one of the best days of my life. My 15th birthday when my parents got me tickets to see it in Cleveland. Last birthday was pretty "Wicked"less, but we did see "Legally Blonde," which was fun too. And this year, seeing it with the grandparents birthday eve.

It's been a while since I listened to the music, and I totally forgot how much I love it. I love the characters, I love the complexity of the story line, I love the costumes. I love the idea that there's always two sides to every story, just like there's two sides to every coin.I love that there's a little bit of Elphaba in all of us, maybe some more than others. And I love that tonight when I walked in there, I felt the strongest connecton to her character that I have ever felt. I don't know why. But I loved the feeling anyway.

I'm old now. It has officially been my birthday for 43 minutes. I'm exhausted. I've been up for nearly 20 hours with Black Friday shopping and all. I think it's time for me to sleep now that my eyes are starting to cross and I'm seeing double of everything.

Nite. :)

One of THOSE Nights

Um...so I kind of just recovered from a major meltdown. Which, y'know, okay. Whatever. It's been over a year since I had one. But that doesn't make it any better.

I hate having meltdowns. I scare myself. At like 10 after 7 tonight I sat down on my bed and literally started hyperventilating. Then I just started to sob into my Snuggie. It was really ugly. I cried off every bit of my makeup and I freaked both of my parents and my dog out. It was awful.

I'm terrified. Completely terrified of everything. I'm terrified that it's junior year, and I'm terrified of my National Honor Society application. I'm terrified of Spanish IV. I'm terrified because I feel like I'm not doing as well as I should be in my classes. I'm terrified of going to college in the next few years. I'm terrified of money issues, of leaving everything behind, of being on my own. I'm terrified because I won't know how to live my life without these people. I'm terrified that I really was convinced that the solution was to start distancing myself from everyone, everything now because I thought it would be easier once the time actually comes for us all to go in separate directions. I'm terrified that I sometimes feel like no one wants me. I'm terrified that I sometimes feel like nobody needs me. I'm terrified because sometimes I'm not even certain that my friends like me. I'm terrified because I don't break down like this - I'm the glue, I fix everyone else's problems. I'm the one they go to when they need help. I'm terrifed that I have no one to talk to...that no one seems to care. I'm terrified of turning 17. I'm terrified because I'm starting to cry again.

I temporarily ran away. I've threatened to do that twice this year, but tonight I actually left and drove around for almost an hour. It was only temporary. Really. I got completely lost three times, but somehow always came out and discovered I'd made basically a complete circle all three times.

I am sufficiently freaked out right now, but I'm glad I wrote it all out. But I should probably sleep now.

Friends and Family

I apologize deeply for my immature tantrum yesterday. With that being said...

Do you want to know what's funnier than watching an episode of "Friends" in English class? Watching your English teacher watch one of her favorite episodes of "Friends" in English class.

Today we kicked off our 'family' unit in English with a free-write about our families and a special viewing of an episode of "Friends" (obviously), which was really amusing. I was mildly entertained with my free write, and I think it might be kind of fun to expand on it, so that's what I'm going to do right now.

My family is...
weird. But I challenge you to find me one that would be considered 'normal.'

There's my mom, who is currently way more excited about the release of "New Moon" than I am. That confuses me. I'm the hormonal teenager in the house - I should be the obsessed one. Last night, she got 20-some points in a game of Scrabble with the word 'vagina.' She patiently taught me how to drive, makes me laugh constantly, and just this morning informed me that she thinks she needs therapy so that she can be more tolerant of people who are incompetent. I guess I'm quite like her in that repsect. She's my BFF, the Lorelai to my Rory. She doesn't judge me for my nerdy music taste or my Christmas Pandora station that I listen to more frequently than I should two weeks before Thanksgiving although I constantly judge her for her bizarre appreciation for both classic rock and raunchy rap music. She has recently convinced herself that she is going to re-learn how to ice skate and that I'm going to be very jealous of her when she can do perfect figure eights to the 'Figure Eight' song from Schoolhouse Rock. But that's just typical Mom.

Then there's my dad, who is a freak. He's super-smart but he often has really funny ways of showing it. I like him anyway. He respects me and my rare 'teen' moments, although the constant tapping on my bedroom door every five minutes while I'm doing homework to ask me about my day or what I think we should do for dinner loses its charm very, very quickly. He just went back to work at a legit job, so my homework gets done a little faster now. When I was little, I had myself convinced that he would go on 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' one day and win us a bunch of money because he knew all the answers anyway. He has yet to lose faith in the Cleveland Browns and will forever worship the ground on which Bernie Kosar walks. His love for the boys from the Rat Pack greatly influenced my nerdy taste in music, though in my defense, it's pretty hard not to respect Frank Sinatra when you're dancing around with your father every night to 'Fly Me to the Moon' at four years old.

And then there's my dog, a golden retriever mix of some sort who has effectively chewed off a good 75-80% of her fur do to allergies and a staph infection. She used to be covered in beautiful white and gold fur, but now most of the fur is gone and she's still adorable. She sleeps probably 21 out of the 24 hours in the day, but we have accepted this as a fact of life. We rescued her from the pound when she was a puppy and had to fight many battles including her intense separation anxiety and all of her cage issues, which included slicing her paw open on it (twice) and occasionally getting out of it and tearing up furniture/doors. But we eventually came out victorious and are quite positive that she didn't turn out half bad for having us as owners.

It's an unfortunate thing to note that there is basically no one still kickin' on my mom's side of the family, which would constitute as the 'fun' side. My aunt rocks - she's hilarious and a lot like my mom. She's married to a guy who I had to take for a beer run the other night and who just became a fan of Sarah Palin on Facebook. Their kids can be obnoxious, but I love them anyway. Preston, the 9-year-old love of a child (usually - he recently locked one of my friends in an outhouse while we were at a pumpkin patch) and Bailey, a 7-year-old recovering kleptomaniac. Also on my mom's side is my grandfather, a very Conservative, very loving gentle giant with a wicked-awful sense of humor, and his wife, my 'step-grandma' who is as obsessed with shopping as I am.

Then there's my dad's side of the family. The irritatingly loud and dramatic, most times intolerable Greeks who don't really appreciate me that much. I do like my grandparents; my Yia-Yia is a QVC addict and my Papou, an ancient little Greek man who is probably president AND vice president of my fan club. My aunts are both nuts, my Godmother is an adorable little woman with the biggest heart in the world. She and her husband have adopted two little girls who happen to be sisters. They're both absolutely sweethearts no matter how 'bad' they are compared to the standards of my crazy aunts. Then there are innumerable cousins and aunts and uncles and who I could never accurately discribe in the space allowed here, no matter how expansive.

That's all that can really be said for my biological family, and if I went on a tangent about my unbiological family, my friends, I would be here forever.

Goodnight, all.