I'm tired, and thus do not feel like Blogging. Sorry to disappoint.

And no, I was not in the least bit ANGRY about the pittly show choir comment...I hate it when someone starts playing a game, and then as I pick up the dice, they're rudely thwacked from my hand. Hell, I'm not really interested in it much either--it's just something I know I have to do to support the music program.

What an unusual day.

School was bland. I had a haircut and was hit upon once again by a cute-ish blonde pixie-looking girl who works at Mario and knows me through a friend who works with me at Gap. I pity her.

Post-haircut, I rented a paint sprayer from HD to paint our show choir backdrop, which we more than successfully completed. (Oh, I forgot--mustn't speak about unexciting show choir.)

Following the from-now-on-unmentioned set building session, I had to rush back and return the paint sprayer. Now, since it didn't fit in my trunk fully the first time, and I was relegated to driving without any rear visibility, I decided it would be perfectly acceptable for me to lower my car top and just let it sit in my backseat for the three minutes it would take for me to transport the contraction.

AMy '92 LeBaron, on the other hand, had other ideas.

As I casually pressed the glowing "down" button on my center car console, Jill (she was with me) and I hear a morbid, bladder-releasing *pop* from the rear of the car. Jill inspects the source of the unusual report, and states uncomfortably that my rear window has shattered all over the trunk-ish area of my car.

No, I don't know how it happened. I just rolled it down a matter of weeks ago...no, a matter of week. It's rediculous.

Worse yet, as we tried putting the top back, the motor ceases to work. So, we have a convertible with its top halfway extended, its motor broken, and its rear window shattered, in twenty-degree weather.

My parents are not pleased.

Only under a full moon...

I did, in fact, have trouble sleeping last night. And I will, undoubtably, have trouble sleeping this evening as well, since I'm still waiting in the wings for what I'm dreading may be the finale and curtain call of this current, short-lived, long-cherished production.

My forecast: My seasonal smoking habit will bleed into the spring term of this year.
My hope: The weather continues to bluster for at least another month, so I'm still able to only "smoke in the wintertime."

One upside to my illness (which I predict has developed into a quasi-pseudo-sinus infection) has been my random bouts of inspiration, amidst hours and hours of alloofness and disconnection with reality. Today in English, I shared some randomly intelligent and discussion-stirring notions about A Tale of Two Cities. For once, Max didn't grimace as I spoke.

I spent my day wading in a sea of cold medicine, facial tissues (I decided to abstain from using the more popular and more copywrighted "Kleenex"), and menthol cough drops. Cold medicine really throws my body off physically...in many unusual ways.

Just a brief comment about the injustices of high school: I don't understand how, after four determined years of earning my notoriety and respect, some teachers, who I once used to hold great esteem for, still are not able or not willing to treat me as a superior to the general mass of students. I'm perplexed, and angry.

But, on a lighter note, I was elected "Best Singer" of the senior class by, coincidentally, the senior class. Funny...I thought they all hated me.

I will have trouble sleeping tonight.

Ladies and Gentleman, the day has arrived:

I've been linked.

A nearly-twenty-eight year old woman named Tiff has put my site on her list of "Recommended" blogs. I'm thoroughly amused and flattered. I must now read her Blog, to learn more about my new reader.

Tiff's Mind Purge

Ack, medicine. I am so disjointed right now, I had to look the word "disjointed" up to make sure I was about to use it correctly. And I did.

The recital atrocity fared well--I mostly made up phrases in Italian, unbenownst to the mostly-white trash audience. After seeing the musical and being mildly, slightly, hardly even but enough to take note of, disappointed for not being a part of it, I really needed today to vindicate my "talent" and worth. As my parents said of last night's foray, "It really was lacking a good strong male voice." No regrets.

VoltronChris: You know what I was thinking about last night?
ScreamKH15: what.
VoltronChris: Your appearance is very betraying
ScreamKH15: ?
VoltronChris: Maybe that's not the word I want
VoltronChris: I can't put your bitter, sarcastic, cynical personality with your face. You look too friendly, boyishly cute
ScreamKH15: Hmm...God's one funny motherfucker, isn't he.

Tired. I have until about 6:00 to clean the house, and then I must spend the evening with fellow humans I despise: my family, and the drama fanatics at my high school. Yes, I'm going to see the unequivocally stereotypical high school musical, "Hello, Dolly." Doesn't that sound grand.

To recap news reported last night, Topsy Turvy and Trainspotting each proved to be entertaining and well-produced in their own ways. Topsy Turvy, while long at some points, was humorous and interesting, especially since I didn't know much about the duo prior to last night. Trainspotting...Trainspotting just makes me never want to do drugs again. Jesus. One word: Dawn. Aside from its didactic approach, Ewan MacGregor was beautiful as always.

I'm done for now.

I gathered a few films from the local Blockbuster to aid me in the survival of a Friday night at home. Topsy Turvy and Trainspotting, two films I hven't seen and probably should have by now, sound like fun.

Today (I assume), Theo opened my small gift I made for him to survive (ha) a weekend in Harvard's confines. Since we were unable to attend teh Rufus concert tonight, I made him a "Concert Kit," which essentially just included a compilation of live recordings from Rufus' concerts, and a few tokens of dorky affinity, such as a pack of cigarettes and bottle of chicolate milk (an allusion to a great Rufus song). I really miss him.

Limitless undying love--which
Shines around me like a million suns--
It calls me on and on across the universe.

--Beatles/Fiona Apple/Rufus Wainwright

So, I haven't updated in awhile. This whole non-Theo thing has thrown my schedule off. I mean, let's face it: it's a Friday night, and I don't even WANT to go out. (Granted, I have many things to finish tonight, but regardless...)

Last night, I drove to LISLE (Yes, Lisle is an hour away from me and all other civilisation) to complete my driving school course, to scrub the stain of a non-moving violation from my driving record. Futile, futile, futile. Further humor ensued as I was detained ten minutes after class, along with a handful of fellow smokers, for being "late." Now, usually I can swallow my pride and admit to foolish things like that. But this gentleman was being completely ludicrous; I was not late, and was in fact several minutes early. Regardless...it was just a foolish driving school thing. Oddly enough, it was held at a very well-decorated Hilton.

This afternoon, after realizing that no one actually felt like performing, Mrs. Espel (choir teacher) warped our brains with videos of show choirs in the Chicagoland area. We watched a precise, bland rendition of several showtunes and poorly-arranged pop songs by "Mixed Company," Prospect's show choir. They will be at both competitions.

I've grown to love A Tale of Two Cities. I've grown to hate my AP English class. Essentially, it's comprised of a handful of truly intelligent literary experts, several "girls (and boys) with nice handwriting," and then a large array of imbeciles, either of the popular sporty variety, the dumpy waste-of-skin-and-bone variety, and the humorous bonehead variety. I don't know where I fall into. Somewhere between intelligent bookworm and humorous bonehead. Depends on the mood.

Tomorrow, I'm planning on cleaning, and then seeing "Hello, Dolly!" a l'ecole. Sunday, hopefully a trip to Evanston for Rent shoes and, perhaps, dinner avec Theo. Fun-filled weekend.

Mundane day. Lots of show choirness occurring. Horrid dinner at Maggiano's with my choir teacher's daughter. I'm beginning to hatehateHATE conservative, closed-minded fools.

Not much else to report--finally sent my CD to Northwestern. I don't really care that it's late. It's just another futile attempt to please the parental units.

Another evening with Theo--a bit briefer than I would have hoped, considering I won't be able to see him for another 7200 minutes. I'm really going to miss him--his voice, his scent, his eyes, his "Jewish" nose (but only with the glasses on), his thoughts, his lesions, and his slightly larger hands.

Checkbook has slipped temporarily into red territory. I'm white trash, everybody.

My mother and I had a mild spat tonight, and she again made a comment about me "wrecking my life." I'm sorry, ma'am...I'm not the one who cannot live life without being controlled by someone else. Sometimes, I enjoy taking the reigns on my own fucking horse.

Good day otherwise, with the discovery that one of my favorite pairs of jeans does, in fact, look as sexy on me as I had originally hoped. Sometimes, procrasinating makes me feel better even when I know the chore(s) will efventually have to be completed. I need to take an occasional personal day, too.

Forty-eight degrees. Monsigneur Spring is rudely pouncing on the heels of Jack Frost's Prada loafers.

Another day with Theo (I aways want to pronounce it "TAY-oh," as an allusion to Van Gogh's brother), which included the purchase of boxers for him, and shampoo for me. Moment of stupid naivete: Interestingly enough, my phone was not operating this afternoon when I was supposed to meet him at his house. Finally, I was able to check my messages briefly, as I heard the word "Firestone" uttered, as he, I later found out, needed his vehicle repaired. I assumed I needed to pick him up at this random Firestone, sure enough, in the expansive city of Arlington Heights, I found it, a serendipitous moment of chance ensuing. Ha.

In other unrelated news, I have not finished Dickens. Need to spend the afternoon tomorrow working on a project. Avocados should NEVER be refrigerated. Mint Skittles are fun, in their five assorted minty flavours. I smoked...seven cigarettes today. That may be a personal record.

This seems very plausible, being only twelve hours in duration. I would very much enjoy pursuing a road trip with him.

Debauchery, indeed. This perplexes me.

I believe the arithromycin (acetaminophen--ha) I'm on for my "strep throat" has caused great distress in many departments of the retail store otherwise known as my body. I feel like crawling up into nothing and staying there forever.

I received my final and most anticipated Valentine's day memento yesterday. It did, indeed, live up to my expectations. Now, if only he'd promise to not puchase a gift for me, I would be surreptitiously content.

Theo and I enjoyed an evening in North Chicago, dining at a pleasant Middle East-inspired cafedinerrestaurant on Clark, followed by an abundance of driving around, strolling the bowels of Lakeview, debating whether or not to make a jaunt to a...shudder...bathhouse (we were REALLY desperate for entertainment). The evening ended with a cruise through Arlington Heights, sans dessus, in the frigid calmness of a winter's night.

My father has been asking more and more questions about Theo--last night, and this morning. I think he's making headway, or at the very least, desperately trying to forge the father-son relationship he always wanted.

I received two more pieces of Valentine-related mail today. Both of these cards, each struggling to be humorous and appropriate in its own way, had the same tone: you're a good friend, and I'm glad you're happy romantically. Lauren, my best friend of yore, wrote these sentimentally-engorged words to me in honour of Valentine's day, and Kim, the Asian beauty who once inspired me to join Debate Team, passed along these kind thoughts.

Thankfully, no Curtis-ness last night. That would've been uncomfortable. Erin was an excellent substitute, however--I met her at Borders, where she has a much-envied (by me) cashier position. We "dined" at Denny's, as usual, and discussed matters pertaining to our lives. Somehow, we always have sunnier outlooks on each other's lives than we do on our own lives, so evenings spent with Erin generally end with a feeling of resolution.

I had fun with my scanner this morning. The following are two fun Valentines I received Thursday.

First, Joy DiNaro, everyone's favorite Debate "Star," gave me an unwarranted, unexpected Valentine. Her signature, as you can see, is relatively illegible and nonsensical. I don't see a "Joy," I don't see a "Di," and I certainly don't see a "Naro."

Also, and much more amusingly and creepy, I received a note from a mysterious "Sana." Allowme to set this up--so, here I am, in choir, singing, when two "popular" football-player-likefellows saunter up to the choir room door. We're all sort of distracted, but trying to maintain focus. Every time I glance over at teh door, they try to summon me, in big gestures. I ignore it. Eventually, my battle-ax choir director opens the door and curtly asks them what they want. They tell me they have a note for me. My heart sinks into my socks and I can feel my testicles retract into my body, anticipating a sharp blow to the groin. I read the note and tittered, because I thought it was from a girl named Sana who I was friends with sophomore year, whoI knew had a crush on me. I blamed the poor grammar and awkward phrases on her lack of overall intelligence. I thought the issue was over.

The next day, I came to school, and as I walked in the choir room, I struck up a conversation with my friend Kassi. She asks me, "You know who that note is from, right?" And I, thinking I knew who the note was from, nodded. She then told me it was actually from a foreign-exchange special-ed student, also named Sana. Let me describe this girl--she of middle-eastern origin, which is apparent when she comes to school, on some days, in her traditional "You mustn't see my skin" garb. Her most distinguished feature is her eyebrows--they age gargantuan in size, and equally intimidating. She apparently initially has very large eyebrows, but then takes the extra step and uses some sort of brown ink or powder to make them approximately one inch in width. She also claims that Osama bin Laden is her uncle. I am not making this up. Here is her note. Enjoy.

So, as previously (cryptically) stated, I traveled 26 miles last night to Arlington Heights, to deliver Theo's Valentine's Day gift and card. I'm not sure why I did it. I wish I could just act and not feel guilty, like some people. But, I will always be the bitch.

I went to the doctor today--I have some mild case of streap throat. I personally don't think streap throats cause earaches, headaches, and white puss-infested nodules to appear on one's throat and tonsils, but my 300-year old doctor thinks he knows what he's doing. I'll trust him, until I'm uncured and out of medicine.

I'm done. Work tonight. Maybe going out with Curtis. Who knows.

He has always had,
has,
and will always have the upper hand.

Enough about that.

Last night, I visited my grandmother. In a three-cigarettes-in-a-row haze, where I felt like my body was being violently shaken by some invisible spectre, I realized that some things in my life are moving much too quickly, and others are not moving as quickly as I'd like. Take my grandmother, for example--she's just been through a quadruple-bypass heart surgery, and all that is left of her is the shell of a once-pleasantly witty, lovable woman, with the soul of some ghost-like, muted crazen inside her. She really has aged dramatically in the past month alone...I just wish I would have gotten to know her better pre-op.

I spent the day in Theo-mode--I attended a frivolous, dull Debate Team practice, so that I may qualify for the Springfield tournament in April, and then drove to (undisclosed far location) to pick up his Valentine's day gift. More driving was involved to far-away lands (26 miles away, to be exact), but those locations and purposes for sneaking around grand old (undisclosed suburban town) will not be revealed until tomorrow.

Am reading A Tale of Two Cities now. So far, it's much better than Pride and Prejudice, but still not my thing. As much as I'd like to be able to truly enjoy classical literature, my attention span wanes occasionally. The only school-issuednovel I've ever truly enjoyed has been The Scarlet Letter. I'm pathetic, just pathetic.

Why did I just post that? I need to go to bed.

Thank you God--there is, in fact, a Diesel store in DC. In fact, it's on a street in Georgetown I spent a good deal of time on, walking to and from the campus and the Metro stop. Funny.

I'm not sure I should get Theo a gift for Valentine's Day. I, personally, despise the drudgingly sweet "holiday," and think the color pink is repulsive (unless we are talking about hair). I would like to find him a gift regardless, just because gifts are fun to give. Alas...

Good day today. Should have read A Tale of Two Cities, but on my priority list, personal activities take a MUCH higher precedence than schoolwork.

I am very tired, and a bit sore, but it is imperative that I write about how amazing of a weekend I had. I want everyone who reads this (And, really, I don't know who that includes, since no one ever signs the goddamn guestbook. Hmm.) to know how unbelievably, immeasurably happy I am, and how WONDERFUL (damn word) the past twenty-four hours have been for me.

The evening was started with a trip to the Vail Street Market, where we purchased some materials for our dinner. It was so comfortable, yet awkward, cooking with him (or rather, lording over him...oops). The meal was concluded on a most wonderful and long-anticipated moment, while toasting our champagne...or shall I say, "sparkling wine." Damn California vineyards. After dinner, we went out AGAIN to pick up two movies, that eventually did not get watched.

This morning, we took another step in the relationshp process, which, after a while, I rather enjoyed. An afternoon of shopping, and a sleep-laced drive home concluded the weekend. I am floating on a non-drug-induced cloud right now...I never believed that God would give me the priveledge of having such a wonderful source of happiness, pleasure, learning, beauty, and most of all, love.

On another great note, after one hour of discussion, the Tampa trip, mostly due to my protest, has been cancelled. Victory! Not a complete victory, which would have involved my family leaving me at home and going along by themselves, but a victory nonetheless. My father's kosh (ha) with it, but for some reason, my mother does not want me to be at home by myself (insert obvious inference here).

He needs to Blog, dammit.

Oh, and All-State Erin was deferred from Juilliard as well. I suppose that makes me feel a BIT better, considering she is a musical goddess and all. (Had a wonderful evening with her, too, last night.)

First things first.

Tonight, I enjoyed an evening with Jamie and Jillian (see a trend in the gender of my friends? yeah.) at the mall to purchase birthday gifts for my friend Crystal, at Crystal's birthday party, and at a play at Dundee-Crown, Alibis. The play was short, and that is the only postive thing i can say about it. I got to see All-State Jeff there, which was random and awesome, and my friend Shannon, who was in it and the sole reason for me even seeing the play, and she said something about hearing something "wierd" from Matt Perez, whose alias is and forever will be Flaming Gapqueen. Hm.

The party was bland. It was in a church basement, which was well-decorated, and very urbansuburbantrendy. I don't care much for parties.

Two very discontenting pieces of information to post about my choir teacher. Mrs Espel is a conservative homophobe, and a gossip-inflicting bitch. First, at another show choir performance today, she made some allusion to gays "choosing" to live the life they live. In front of poor little succeptable 8th graders. Then, i found out that she's been telling the all-state story, about me disrespecting her, to many people, and the students I accompanied while in Peoria have been spreading the story around. That's very unethical on her part, I think, and I want to urinate in the faces of the people who went on the all-state trip from my school, now.

This is THE weekend. I'm very excited.

Each time I see him, talk to him on the phone, or even think about him, it becomes harder and harder to resist telling him. I really do **** him.

I had a great, great birthday! The three of us (Erin, Theo and I) drove into the city, became temporarily disoriented, and finally found our way to MOD. I don't think Erin and Theo enjoyed their meals, but I certainly enjoyed mine, and that's all that really matters...tee hee. I had "ham and eggs" as my appetizer, which was this festively-arranged plate of, as aforementioned, ham and eggs. I feasted on lamb chops with a tasty sauce and amazing potatoes, and finished the meal with a calypso-inspired Tropical Trio, which was a bowl of all desserts exotic. Fine dining and impeccable company--what a combination.

I was a bit dismayed when i went to purchase my first pack of cigarettes last night, to find that the gas station attendant didn't even card me. Bastard! But, to make up for it, when I purhased a lighter this afternoon, the attendant at another gas station DID card me, and studied my license for about three minutes. Hmm.

I'm sorry, but there's nothing more sensual and romantic to me than beautiful male piano players.

Shock: I actually have had a good birthday, so far.

My day was really quite good--my friends Jill, Jamie and Kassi bought two pies for the class to celebrate my birthday in show choir today, as a coup to an inside joke from our NIU retreat. My friend Rachel purchased a gift certificate for me from Structure, and I'm expecting a wonderful evening with Theo and Erin tonight at MOD.

I'm not sure what Theo means about last night...I assume everything is alright...?

I spent the evening celebrating my birthday with my immediate family.

Strike that.

I was not allowed to spend the evening with my family to celebrate my birthday, because my sister, Elizabeth, threw a disgustingly frantic temper tantrum in our garage. She had some dippy-doo solo/ensemble contest tonight (which my parents forgot about until Friday of last week, when, prior to that, we had made plans to spend the evening celebrating this birthday and last year's birthday, which went unnoticed), and so the original revised plan was to dine after her competition. She, however, decided at the last minute that I would not be allowed to ATTEND her competition, exploding in a wash of tears, estrogen, and poorly-plucked eyebrows. I subsequently walked back to the house.

So, instead of spending my last birthday while home with my family, I purchased carry-out from the following venues:

1. Bistro Wasabi--California Mahi
2. Michael's--French fries
3. Olive Garden--Weakish Tiramisu
4. 7-11--Sour Cherry Slurpee

Isn't that grand. They were then angry that, at 8:00, when they rolled in, I had already eaten and rented a film, which I will review following the close of this sentence.

"Ghost World," starring Thora Birch and some girl with a sexy voice, and the ever-milk-curdling, creepy Steve Buschemi, prove itself as an excellent film describing my imminent future--two girls fresh out of high school have no real direction in their lives, who spend the summer mapping out possible futures. I would play Thora's character, Enid (beautiful name...takes me back to The Corrections), the really fucked up one who really doesn't have a Bush's chance in heaven when it comes to a discernable goal. It ended just the way I would have ended it.

So, an evening not entirely wasted.

Before I post about the trauma that ensued last night, I just need to momentarily berate this little boy in my AP English class. His name is Max--I have never been on good terms with him, because he was/is in love with my good friend Kim, and she alluded to she and I fooling around once or twice in a conversation with him, and since then he has refrained from speaking to me. Which is fine. It just really bothered me today when, while we were discussing Pride and Prejudice, and I made a relatively intellectual comment, he had to pick apart my diction, relevance, and overall importance to the class as a whole, in whispered murmurs across the room to a few other people I despise. He is an insipid, small, pale, anal-retentive, immature pompus-ass who, in reality, has very little of importance to say himself.

Now, onto worser things.

Last night was a horrible chain of events. I will number them for easy reference.

1. Was late for show choir, as a result of sexually-frustrating and great afternoon with Theo.
2. Blew up in show choir rehearsal at choir momentarily.
3. Received letter from Juilliard; was not invited to audition.
4. Elizabeth discovered my homosexuality, and I had to forcefully tell her I was gay and apologize for embarassing her.
5. Discovered a sickly physical defect/ickiness on my body, which will not be discussed.

After disasters numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 occurred, I worked myself up to the brink BRINK of tears. Then, in my melodramatic fashion, I ran downstairs and told my parents, "All right, let me just get this over with now. (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), and I've been dating someone I really care about for the past three months. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm going to get a slurpee from 7-11; I'll be back soon." By the fourth or fifth item on teh list, I was crying like a pansy, and ran out of the house to get a cigarette or eight.

That's when Theo came along. In his typically compassionate and nice-guy manner, he calmed me and reassued me that those problems were minor and that he wasn't upset that I hadn't told my parents yet. This is, I should mention, after I called HIM to apologize for not telling my parents. So, I felt better, and was not so disheartened about my then-horrible position in life.

More to come later.

I don't know why, but I feel really stupid right now. Horribly, disgustingly ignorant and foolish.

I'm writing a letter to my parents tonight.

To me, an important, but subtle achievement in a relationship is the "Hi, it's me" comfortablility. Nothing makes me feel better about the relationship than the voice recognition thing--I don't know why. I'm glad that Theo and I have crossed that, and many other, barriers.

About last night--it was wonderful. (Durr--despise that word) After nervously waiting 1/2 hour for Theo to arrive at Starbucks, I was graced with his sparkling presence, and a trove of beautiful gifts for my birthday. He gave me two pieces of art, which he aquired in Bucktown, some Kiehl's lotion (which is great) and toner (which I haven't used yet), a teeny book of love spells--a coup to my wiccan days, no doubt--a Diesel backpack, and a new bar of aromatic soap, which I will be bringing with to his house this weekend. I then dragged him to Maggiano's for dinner, and we ended the evening driving around South Barrington's massive, obnoxiously gaudy houses, discussing things dealing with our long-term future, and the intensity of our feelings for one another. As Theo so eloquently phrased it, "We sort of, almost said it."

I'm having another one of those manic-depressive spells today/tonight. I need to get my sleep regimen balanced out.

Why did I show weakness and insecurity. Why.

Today was a long day, of sorts. I really would like to disregard the first 18 hours of the day altogether, and only remember the past one hour--the one hour which may (hopefully) have a permanent, lasting effect of the rest of my life. I will write more tomorrow--I am rather nauseous right now. Enough so, that I cannot even remember the proper spelling of the word. Goodnight.

(Sidebar: My sister is an obnoxious [word of the evening for my vocabulary] twit, who is frolicking around the house with her tallish, homely friend at 12:00AM, while my parents attempt to sleep. Whore.)

Yes, it really is 6:00 AM. I knew I needed to update before my speech tournament, so here goes. I went to CHicago last night to have birthday with Lauren and Shannon...they rented me a hotel room which of course, I couldn't enjoy with them. Had hamsters and drove home slightly tired (read: drove through 4-way stop on Oak St., not good.). Fun gifts, fun cake. Now, off to consecrate my school and family reputation in wretched speech tournament. More to come.