I'm having issues with Blogging, now...don't you hate it when smug, surly little fourteen-year-old twats get in your way? I may have to relocate to another URL.

I was apprehensive at first--maybe a bit angry, or almost regretful. But, after thinking about it for most of the day, I've decided that it's not THAT bad that a fellow Jacobs student will be attending American University come fall. I found this out today on my field trip to the...drumroll please...Judson College Library. Let me set the scene--an old, rundown building, with almost as many books as men I've slept with. (Since most of you don't know me that well, that isn't very many books. At all.) Essentially, I just read Kafka's Metamorphosis all day, and socialized. I found out that Ms. Jennifer White is also hoping to attend AU. She is a rather overzealously-political antsy-pants who just loves rubbing all of her "connections" in people's faces. I, however, hardly believe she A.) Has ANY connections to the FBI, CIA, or any reputable law firms in Virginia, DC, or Chicago; or B.) Knows much of ANYTHING about local or national politics, other than names and parties. Now, I will be the first to admit that, as much as I'd love to be well-versed in the book of la politique, I am a veritable virgin in the field. but at least I don't wear a fossod of intelligence to condescend to people. So, that may be what I have to look forward to for the next four years. (If I even go there.)

ISO: 1 family, pref. upper class. One preference: does NOT opt to spend evenings at home watching America's Funniest Home Videos at the loudest volume level while chortling about the misfortunes of pets, small children, and any and all residents of the following states: Arkansas, Kentucky, Florida, Nevada, and/or Wisconsin.

I don't know how it happens, but somehow the most horrible days in theory turn out to be pretty tolerable, almost pleasant. I sometimes cannot help but think that He is involved.

I no longer think I'm in trouble; my parents seem to have forgotten all about how I rolled in at 3:45 this morning, and how I didn't even go to church on Easter Sunday. I mean, hell, even the cretins who are really distant from Christ go to church on Easter Sunday. It's sort of a, "He's gonna find out if you're naughty or nice" sort of thing.

My sister discovered my Blog, I think. (Well, I know--she brought it up as we were entertaining ourselves, away from the prehistoric conservatives that are my grandparents.) She already knew I was gay, and now she's been asking a lot about Theo, and begging permission from me to "tell all of her friends that I'm gay." This is very awkward. See, I think that this COULD bring she and I closer together. But, knowing my past endeavours with her, it probably won't.

I'm in trouble.

Ugh...damned homophobic Blockbuster employees.

For the first time in several months, I went to church this morning in lieu of Good Friday. IT was eerie...the overabundance of "meditation" sessions allowed me to analyze my faith journey, and where it has left me as of late. I don't know how I feel about my faith...I know God exists, and I earnestly believe that. I wish I had the dedication to Him that I should, and watching my pimple-faced, poorly-dressed peers lead the service through the youth group I never attended, I felt a decidedly Catholic need for penance and forgivness for not using my background of eleven years in a parochial elementary/middle school to fulfill God's plan(s) for me. And fuck, I'm Lutheran...how does that work?

I also spent the afternoon with my sister, taking her to St. Charles to purchase a coat out there she liked. We followed up the shopping excursion by seeing Jodie Foster's most recent mistake, Panic Room. I don't understand why she, of all people, has no respect for the idea of only producing WORTHWHILE films. Why would anyone want to prominently attach their name to such a B-rate atrocity of a film?

I suddenly know the true meaning of the word...jangly.

I know he loves me. Under what other pretense would someone else have nursed me like that? Especially after making a horrible mess of everything. Thank you.

Family Day in the city...ok, God, I get the idea--I need to quit smoking.

I rented "On The Line," the first film I was an extra in, last night. In fact, it was exactly one year ago this weekend that I had my first experience in film, my first brush with pseudo-celebrity. Unfortunately, in the "wake of September 11" (How many times have we heard that cliche phrase?), there has been no film activity whatsoever in Chicago--even "ER" pulled out of a filming commitment for April.

HOPEFULLY, I'll be seeing Theo tonight. I haven't spoken to HIM about this yet, however.

I'm getting worried about asking my parents. It seems like they've already planned Easter out for us. Fuck.

Queer as Folk isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I'm still more partial to Sex and the City, mostly based on its fantasy appeal. I don't know...the writing is rather weak for QAF.

Being a host for a span of several days is rather tiring.

Things COULD be shaping up for my trip to DC with Theo. I've found us a place to stay (a very nice and fun place to stay). The only thing holding us back would be parental edicts--his don't seem thrilled and I haven't even propositioned mine. Hmm.

I fell more in love with Theo last night. I can't explain why--perhaps because he came off as such a good boyfriend (to me)...I think he was trying to be extra-wonderful because of Chris' presence, which is understandable. But, I really enjoyed being with him last night.

Last night, Edwardsville Chris and I saw "Iris" at the Century in Evanston. I rather enjoyed it; Judi Dench did an outstanding job, and while it wasn't dark enough to constitute a film that I'd normally enjoy, I did enjoy the characters' fascination with language and love.

Following the late late film, we went to Kafein--a loathed-by-Theo coffee venue which I rather enjoyed. Their coffee is sensational, and their lemonade (freshly squeezed) is unbeatable. I think I shall convert Theo back to liking the place; it seems like somewhere I'd enjoy spending late nights with him.

Off to work--agh.

Rationalizing my failure to Blog recently based on my "being busy" is such a copout; I will simply not offer any apologies or reasoning behind it.

Always a disappontment, I am.

I saw Gosford Park last night with theo. May I just say that if there's a Maggie Smith fanclub out there, I need to be a part of it. That old broad never fails to make me titter. The movie in general was great--a bit slow at times, but overall a worthy Oscar contender.

Aaah, my watch. I realized that I left it at Theo's house after merging onto I-90. I laughed.

My hair is finally a respectable, non-embarassing shade--Kassi dyed it back on Friday. It's darker than it naturally is, and I like it better. Hmm...

Tonight, i'm taveling to the city (AGAIN) to visit with Chris. I'm not sure what we're going to do yet, but I'm sure it will involve me buying him cigarettes and us traveling around North Chicago. Fun that.

My posting has been sort of unexciting today...I'm having sleep issues, in that I can never get enough. Yesterday, I practically slept from 3:15AM, when I finished the novel "Fag Hag" (I'm not sure I'd recommend it; it's tres twisted), to 6:00 PM the next day. I took a total of two hours out of my coma to eat and UGAS a few times...my hypochondriatic side tells me I have mono--realistically, I don't.

I posted last night, but apparently my computer got some sort of indigestion from it and decided not to pass it on to you all.

Last night, I worked, and had a jovial time. This beautiful Mexican-American guy at my work, Charlie, asked me to be the lead singer in his band--apparently he's written some songs that aren't in his range or something. Knowing the general patterns of my life, I'm certain this will not actually happen--me in a band? Ha. But, the novelty of being in a band does have its benefits. So, we're supposed to have a "jam" session this week.

College Fight #4926e. Dinner, tonight. My father basically said that if I don't collect beaucoup de scholarships, I'm not going to American. This erupted into a caucophony of rhetorical jabs. My father stormed out, to attend his choir practice.

In order to remain a member of NHS, I have to work some sixty hours of community service over spring break. Do I think this is going to happen? You've GOT to be kidding me. So, I'm either going to lie about it all, or just resign.

I think I need to apologize.

I fucking hate my father. I'm sorry, dad, that you never taught me how to catch.

Always an embarassment, aren't I.

I went to see my sister's musical review tonight at her middle school--I pity the fate of the Jacobs High School music department--all the girls enjoy singing (off-key) in their chest voice. There's such a horrible break between head and chest for them, I fear they'll all develop vocal nodes before they get their first periods. And the guys...or boys, rather. There is one boy who actually could sing fairly well (who happened to have a crush on my sister), but the rest were either obnoxious or didn't sing. I'm certainly glad I'm graduating.

LHSswimmer: oh ok. whatyou gonna be again?
ScreamKH15: a journalist. have you decided?
LHSswimmer: lol no. im just gonna go undecided and enjoy my life lol.
ScreamKH15: you're joking, i take it?
LHSswimmer: lol what. i odnt need to know what im gonna do for the rest of my life. i mean enjoy it. you only live once and yoru only young once lol. ill go to ecc and take all the required classes and then ill decide hehe

What a great doctrine to live by. (Sarcasm)

Holy FUCKING shit.

In some wild, unprecedented freak of naure, I was deemed "Grand Champion" (I sounds so...horse-like, doesn't it?) of the solo competition at a midwest-wide show choir competition at Mundelein HS yesterday. This is the first time that anyone from my school has made it into finals for ANYTHING, let alone a solo, and I was competing against two really good performers, one of which happened to be from Prospect. I was never so surprised as to hear my name called as one of the finalists, and then as the MC read the second and first-runner ups names, not mentioning my own, I couldn't even believe that I had actually won first place in this multi-statewide event. Wow. So, I now have this monstrocity of a trophy sitting on my kitchen table. I'm not sure where it should go.

And again, I was deemed the "guy/boy with pink hair," receiving complements and phone numbers all day. I also had a lot of Prospect people coming up to me and congratulating me and whatnot--apparently, there's some mildly-homely girl named Mo who's "in love" with me in Mixed Company. Laney and I had a moderately long conversation as we waited backstage for the place announcements; she seems nice, albeit reminding me of my "bad-ass" neighbour across the street, in looks and attitude as well. Andy Anderson also spoke to me briefly, and a girl who knows several people at my school, Sarah Turner, lied to me by telling me our show was "so awesome," while telling my friend Leianne that it was absolutely horrid. I spoke to her repeatedly throughout the day, just to play along with her game.

The only downside/upside: I promised God that if I won first place, I would quit smoking. Damnit.

Wonderment of wonderments!

I was accepted to American University today--they sent me a congratulatory E-mail. I'm really pleased and excited. Now, the only thing is, I haven't heard from Theo yet about his status. And...I just hung up the phone with my mother, and she was not very congratulatory at all. She, knowing full well how much it cost (Or at least she should; we've discussed it so many times), asked me, "How much does it cost?" Yes, yes, fuck you too. I've seen the FAFSA's, honey--I cannot understand how you can pull this "we can't afford it" bullshit with me.

Going out with Theo tonight. Show choir at 0730 hours tomorrow...yeesh.

An unprecedented event hath occured: I had an all-around great day.

The day didn't really pick up until flex block (lunch, for us block schedule mutants), when my friends and I decided to try to piss off Mrs. Espel for the rest of the day/week/lifetime. So, we had our fun with that. Third hour was filled with a redundant lecture about things, during which I fiddled loudly with my water bottle and stared blankly and surlily (new word for the OED) at a scuff mark on the wall behind the beast.

I went home at around 2, and with my mail inspection, discovered many fun things. First and foremost, I have been elected to be in the "Who's Who of America's High School Students" book for this year. I hope American got that memo. Also, I received my All-State honors CD, which sounds tinny, but I'm just glad I finally have it in my posession.

A trip to Borders and Country Donuts ensued thereafter. After running a few menial errrands and making dinner for my family which I wasn't able to enjoy (I sliced my right index finger open in the process, leaving a large flap of skin behind), my mother arrived home with *MY CAR*. I will now only refer to the *automobile* in asterisks, because it looks beautiful. The top's all fixed, the rear window is beautifully crystalline, and it's nealy spotless on the interior and exterior.

Then, the choir concert was atrociously horrid, which actually just cheered me up because it gave me yet another reason to HATE my school and its menial, under-talented programs. A cigarette and trip to Baker's Square with my closest comrades followed, and my evening was settled. Horrah--it CAN be done.

Alright, I have to balance this pseudo-cheerful Blog with a rant. Steve Williams is a character at my school who is profusely conservative, or perhaps just conservative to be "different" and "shocking." He commonly uses the "N" word to refer to ANYTHING...for example, he measures length in "N*****dicks," to be "funny." (Apparently it works--he was elected "Class Clown.") A recent project involving himself and a videocamera, taping the most nubile-looking freshmen females and their responses to questions such as "How do you feel about giving cunnilingus to another girl?" earned him a two-day suspension and a revoking of his position as the morning announcer and vice-president of NHS. Anyways, he commonly, rudimentarily makes "homo" jokes to me whenever we're withing a ten-foot radius of one another. He thinks it's funny, and I try to cooly receive the blows and retort to them wittily, but lately it's gotten out of hand. There's a line that has been cross'd, and I'm not sure what to do about it now. Oh well.

What a surprise--Prospect's Mixed Company received first place in the Chicagoland Showcase competition on Saturday. They were actually quite talented and amazing; I thought they deserved every accolade they gained after their performance.

I thought today, and all weekend, about what my life would be like if I moved somewhere besides West Dundee following my 8th grade year. Who would I be today? I wonder how much different I would be right now if I lived in another area. Would I be happier, as a result of the omission of conservative homophobes from my life in another school? Or would I be less prone to accept my homosexuality, as a resut of missing out on key moments in my life that shaped the acknowledgement of my queerness. Did I need the oppression to make me a stronger person? I wonder. Regardless, I still wish I attended a different school for the past three years, sexuality aside.

I haven't received "THE TALK" yet.

Here are some pictures of me from the show choir atrocity this weekend.

This is me, with pink hair, as I prepare to sing my solo for a seperte competition. I sang "I Can't Stand Still" from Footloose. I allegedly did not do very well, mostly because I sang rock and roll, while my judges were looking for "Maria."

Me again, in profile, the most unflattering of poses for me, with my noseburden. It showed off my hair better, and my tummy, and my CK black microfiber briefs waistband. Naughty, naughty.

And, here is the backdrop I airbrushed, along with me looking very angry at my big crotch, and a gaggle of other meagerly-talented showchoir swine in the background.

CK Briefs: 18.50.
Whitewashed bootcut pants, hand-stitched in the crotch and thigh for added tightness: 5.00.
Fishnet shirt, sans left arm: 19.00.
PInk girl's sleeping shirt: 1.97.
Having to wear my boyfriend's bracelet on my scrawny upper-arm, because my wrists are the diameter of a smallish penis: priceless.

Busted.

My mother discovered my cigarette habit this morning, as she drove to the auto dealer with the all-too-familiar smell radiating from the interior. I haven't spoken to her yet, but I'm pretty sure she's angry with me. I have to have a talk with my parents tonight about it, allegedly. I don't know what this conversation will be about, since my father already knew. Whatever. Fuck.

What a fan-fucking-tastic day. Started off pretty poorly, evolved into a nightmare, and seems to be coming to a close in a maelstrom of shit, with new revelations abound and a three-hour lecture from my choir teacher tonight about how horrid we were this weekend.

HAve you ever had an expereince that has made you feel worthless? My weekend, in general, served that purpose.

I was so incredibly nervous about the debate tournament for at least two days prior to the actual event. I really had no idea what I was supposed to do, what the proper format was, anything. So, my first speech was a complete flop, and my second was not much better. To add to my frustration, my teammate in my chamber PO'd the first round, and was PRESSURING me to speak and ask questions. So, now I know I cannot actually be a lawyer or congressman.

Have you ever wished you went to another school? I did this weekend.

Saturday, after bleaching my hair three times and horribly disfiguring my scalp some eight hours prior, my show choir "team" performed. For us, it went well. But, every other school was at least eight hundred times better than us. I really feel like I deserve to be in another school's show choir. This just isn't fair that I have to suffer in my shoddy-at-best choir with my hell-ascended choir teacher. The onyl consolations: I looked really sexy, with my white hair and pink tips, and at least twenty girls (and one gay guy with about three teeth) flocked up to me to tell me how awesome of I performance I gave for my solo. (We did a medley from Rent; I sang the "Will I?" solo) These Playboy-gorgeous triplets from Omaha gave me a siver star because they thought I was so good...after mauling me to the ground in hugs. Aaah, celebrity.

So tonight, I finally get to see my Theodore.

I apologize for not blogging recently--it has truly been a long and painful weekend. And, I cannot delve further into the mess for you all, because I have to work in fifteen minutes. Will report later.

Per Chris' request, I have decided to Blog today (this evening). I just haven't been motivated to do it lately--I don't know why.

It seems as though Erin may not be able to accompany me to the Ani concert. I visited her at her house, after driving to her work and discovering she had called in ill. She apparently did not tel lher mother of here whereabouts, and is wallowing in a plastic pool of ludicrous punishments. So, I need to find someone who will come with me. Fuck.

Long day.

Quotations of last evening:

"So, you don't live very far from Ravinia, then?"
"I don't really know if homosexuality exists."
"Turn left."

Thought i'd refresh someone's memory, as said individual has difficulties recalling such things.

JHS Outlook and Diversity Refinement Project: Part I
I brought up the issue of homosexuality today with one of my more conservative friends, Pat. He believes that homosexuality is a choice, and that Christianity is adamantly against the practice. Drawing a crowd at rehearsal, i debated bitterly with him about the subject, making it clear that he will not survive in the real world with these earth-is-flat theories. One step forward for my new goal, one step back in my friendship with Patrick.

Ha--boi.

I think I'm done now.

Two unusual friendship feelings today.

First, I spent a good deal of the day with Kyle, my former best friend. It was somewhat tolerable, and after talking to him mano a mano and him saying smething along the lines of "I really enjoyed finally talking to you today," I realized that I can't help but feel sorry for despising him so. He's just so weak, and he's cultivated the pity-me bit. Grr...I wish I really didn't have a soul.

I also had another realization today, which came to me as a surprise--I do miss Betsy. She's just so cute; it's fun to gaze at her like the big doll house at the Museum of Science and Industry. Impractical to own, but charming and captivating at the same time.

Erin tomorrow, Theo Wednesday. I hope he is alright, and I wish he were able to explain further about his accident this morning.

Finally...I can breathe again.

I feel like i'm under an increasing amount of pressure. Mostly from my parents--they consantly stress how everything in my family is going to change as a result of an occupational issue with my mother. They have been hounding me to finish scholarship applications...hinting that i may not be able to go to whichever school I'd like to attend...and so on. I'm also experiencing a score of self-pressure about some issues. Not fun.

I'm tired and have a headache.

Theo is arriving here in a few minutes, and I'm sure I'll have something to comment on after his departure.

If anyone feels like contacting me, which I highly doubt, one may do so by E-mailing BoyInBrownShirt@hotmail.com.

Turn-a-bout was fun, but sleeping with Theo was much more enjoyable.

Nothing much to Blog about. Had a good day yesterday, mostly. He knows how I feel; that's all I can do about the situation.

Turn-a-bout tonight, Theo sleepover after. I need to take a nap.

Oh, and I got a Division I score for the IHSA Solo/Ensemble competition. My judge, who wouldn't so much as look at any of the other performers while they were singing, watched me intently throughout my song, and sat me down and complemented me and commented for five minutes. She just dismissed everyone else. I felt, for one fleeting moment, intimidating to anyone else in that room.

Fleeting indeed.

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.

When it rains...

My uncle, at 10:15, sashays up to our front door and welcomes himself in for a late evening of win(e)ing and whining with my father. As of now, he still has not left. My mother, as always, is fuming mad, and sitting in her bathroom, staring off into space like a cat, planning Roy's demise. Aah, the beauty of it all.

He has set the (tentative) date for his betrothal. I would love to take Theo with me as a date.

I hate that I get manic-depressive when I'm tired. After such a good day as this, I shouldn't have to be so bloody morbid-feeling. And my face is painfully dry. I don't want tomorrow to come yet.

I had an afternoon to remember at Theo's house. My first shower experience proved to be awesome and unforgettable--the water cascading over theo's hair and adorable body...his mouth...amazing. I love kissing him, and I'm getting more comfortable with the whole "dominating" schtick.

While at Theo's, I met his friends James and Eric, two fellows that proved to be much cooler than Theo had let on. As always, I was sweaty-palm nervous, but I think the conversation (aside from Theo's marijuana-induced paranoia) went really well for a first meeting.

I also happened to come across an old picture of Nick. Originally, judging from the small photo on Theo's blog and what I had heard about him, I figured I would have no problem showing Nick up in the physical beauty department. But, after seeing his portrait today, I've decided I do, in fact, have room for concern when "competing" with Nick. He's fairly, rather attractive. Damn.

Ladies, gentlemen, and gentlemen who prefer to act like ladies: I just experienced the most wonderful orgasm I have ever experienced, as of now. Sensational. Five-star. Two thumbs up. A UGAS morning/afternoon/three-minute rendez-vous/night cannot hold a candle to this evening's Woodfield parking lot wonderfulness; I will spend the rest of the evening in an ephemeral, euphoric high.

Too many funerals as of late.

I had an odd dream last night--I dreamt that I somehow was in a car accident, where me and my mysterious passenger were launched into the air in the Peoria factory parking lot, and my jaw became unhinged. I then woke up thinking my jaw was actually disconnected, and spent about 1/2 hour using my jaw muscle to keep it rigidly in place. I am so queer.

Interesting news: one of my aquaintances' cousins is the affable, beautiful queer boy on this season of the Real World, Chris. What a small world it is.

My Honors American Lit. teacher, Ms. Rosas, with whom I was infatuated for most of last year, sent me the most flattering, poignanat, and heartfelt reccommendation letter today for inclusion into my AU application. I think I've settled on my "A Sister Broken" essay for AU--not only does it showcase my writing skills, but also certainly humbles me and shows off a darker side of my personality. While thinking about it, I'm suddnly weary about the latter...no, no, I need to take a chance. Getting into AU is worth it, for more reasons than it's academia.

I absolutely detest skin. Especially face skin. Especially when this face skin erupts in a veritable flowerbed of acne. Thankfully I don't have it as bad as most people, but the occasional pimple, with its mocking white peak, connotating purity and goodness, really irks me. It is evil. Just evil.

I have much more to write about, but my parental units are stirring.

Report cards arrived today--I'm rather pleased, seeing as how I weaseled my way out of a possible D in AP English to a B+. Still not an A, but it will suffice. Curiously enough, as my unweighted GPA raises higher and higher by the semester, my weighted GPA drops about a tenth of a point every term. Damn choir classes.

My short-ish DC friend Preston E-mailed me today, after I E-mailed him to sort of catch him up on my life. I wish the lease on his three-story beauty of a house in northwest DC wasn't up this summer, because I would positively beg him to let me be a roomie of his.

I'm really looking forward to going to American U...if I get in.

Tonight was the first night with Theo that I not only felt captivated by him and his presence for every single moment of the night, but I truly did not want to leave him and mourned silently over his and my departure from the overpriced West Dundee Italian restaurant. What's that word for when you've found someone you simply cannot get enough of, and want to pour them into a bottomless glass and drink in their wonderfulness for an eternity and then some?

It's happening.

Chris, a relatively cool and attractive queer fellow from downstate Illinois, who I met through some all-staters, read my journal in entirety last night. While I get plenty out of writing in a journal, for the benefits of it all, I'm glad others are able to enjoy it too. And, being a TRUE gentleman, he signed my guestbook. (Ahem, ahem...)

After last evening's conversation with Theo, as I chain smoked (and stayed up until 12:30 in a frantic, jittery high as a result), I really think Erin McKeown's "Something Comes" is such an appropriate song to describe my hopeful future. I hope that someone, ideally Theo, can break through my shell and mold my pessimism into something less acerbic.

I spoke to Erin, and I don't feel as disallusioned about love as I did last night during our conversation. I found it unusual and morbid, to an extent, to discuss love like it were some medical condition slowly spreading across one's body like a rash. Love, to me, is something beyond analysis; one cannot think about whether or not they are in love...they should just feel it. Like, say, a stab of pain in one's stomach as he yearns to see his other half--the remaining part of the anatomical puzzle (think chestnotch) that God or science has materminded. I was disheartened, and confused. But, after getting some much-needed rest, I've decided that I don't have anything to worry about, and should instead be celebratory about my potential long-term future with one T.K..

First off, this makes me want to vomit. I cannot believe our government would turn a deaf ear to matters like this. I need to be president.

It was really an evening of mixed emotions. First, i just need to comment on this:

it is pretty sad i think when people use language as a means to distinguish themselves from people who are "below" them. What these people dont understand is that the true challenge of intellegence is being able to share it to as many people as possible.

I think that for many people with expansive vocabularies, they simply become used to speaking and writing in prose peppered in the larger words they've come to know, love, and understand. For me, it's almost as if my mind automatically slips in synonyms of three or four-syllable proportions for the eensy-teensy banal words which used to reside in my vocabulary. I can't really help it; so what if I enjoy playing with the English language and am good at retaining really interesting words? I don't know about my fellow linguists, but I for one do not regularly use large words and proper English as a means of condescending to people. In fact, I think the theory that intelligent, verbose individuals use big words to poke fun/confse the heck out of those less skilled in English originated from some idiot somewhere who was jealous/intimidated by someone who happened to slip a frilly word or two into a conversation with him. But, I digress. To each his own.

I've really lost the passion I once had about the topic of this evening, so perhaps I will write more about it tomorrow.

My father woke me up this morning (at 9:30, no less) trying to apologize for making me feel worse than I already did about the weekend's sour events. Then, my mother lectured me about how I'm closing valuable doors in my life, and how I don't know how/desire to found good relationships with people. I've apparently had a "horrible" year, socially, and need to make some adjustments.

Seven months. Seven months.

Grimace.

For all of you readers who arrived here via Theo's journal...yes, this is the twisted Kane County-dwelling teen old Teddy's been wasting his time with lately. Enjoy.

What a horrible and disgusting weekend. I am so angry the pinnacle of my music career, the IMEA All-State Honors weekend, was bastardized and constricted. Oh, but that's right--it was my own fault.

I need a goddamn FUCKING cigarette.

I really miss Theo, and hope the whole "thing" is over and done with.

I have erred.

After what I considered a large threshhold was cross'd this afternoon--the abandonment of all insecurities and reserves (clothes) in my bed (something that I have never experienced with another human being before)--I made an off-color reference to something that set off Theo. (Further irony ensues when factoring in how quite opposite I feel about (un)said topic.) While we may have taken three steps in the "right" direction this afternoon pre-4:00, my post-bedside comment has left me feeling several leaps and bounds behind where we already were.

Guiltregretuneasiness.

This is possibly the worst time for me to have to leave the situation for several days--at this point, I would nearly sacrifice my spot in the All-State Honors Chorus to purge the knot that now preoccupies my stomach.

What have I goddamn done.

Anything I originally intended on posting about today has left my mind, as news of Theo's abandonment of his online journal has swept my mind. It seems horrible to me, mostly because I look at The day of late as the catalyst of my relationship with him. It seems odd...I don't know. I'm very disappointed, because I will no longer be entertained by his daily reports, pleas for his readers to look up one queer organization or another, and music selections as of late. I finally signed his guestbook, with my poorly-written eulogy of his site, and how much it meant to me. Sigh.

I'm ever-thankful Blogger has a handy "delete" function. Mustn't worry so much. Really mustn't.

Everything, as should have been expected, is alright in the rollercoaster ride of my relationship with Theo. We had a "big discussion" this evening, with the outcome being me realizing I'm just paranoid, and really should trust him. So, I will now trust him. It's just that easy.

I was pleased to run into my wonderful All-State friend today, Erin. I must make it a point to spend more and more time with her in the wake of the production. Michelle and Alex...I love it how people try to be hospitable when seeing each other in public settings. Hmm.

Off to watch/eat "Chocolat." Will starve self tomorrow until dinner with Catherine. Must start doing beaucoup de situps.

Fear--one of my not-so-favorite emotions to experience. Especially not like this.

In the words of a very slender, non-chunky elf I know, "I feel fat." Hence, the reason I'm not going out tonight. I'm just not in the mood, unless I go out with Erin. And I'm too lethargic-feeling to even do that.

Awkwardness ensues when my parents and sister trash-talk my gay uncle and his partner. It always catalyzes an inner-analysis of everything they say, and a fear of them not just hating the fact that my uncle is a trashy alcoholic, but instead of hating his sexual preference. Of course, the latter is unlikely, but the fear is still there.

While I originally had things more prevalent about my life and the evening's occurences to post about, I decided to sleep on those thoughts, to sort them out a bit, and announce this bit of interesting news.

As I sat down to post about the evening's ups and downs, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. We have an intercom system, with a doorbell wired through the speakers of the house. My gay uncle, as gleeful and jolly as can be, apparently got the button stuck in the mechanism, leaving the doorbell to ring incessantly.

Moving on. I'm sorry...I'm a bit tipsy and not-with-it.

Apparently, after twenty-three years of living together, my gay uncle and his butch biker bitch boyfriend (who is very cool) are getting married. He had this gaudy "floating diamond" ring to show off, and brought a bottle of champagne to share with us. I had three glasses. I'm toasty warm.

It really makes me even more weary about the whole "gay marriage" thing. Tonight has just been a night of insecurities for me, I guess. I don't think I can allow myself to be as naive and trustworthy as I once was. Love stems from those two things. And plus, my utter skepticism about gay marriages practically guarantees a lifetime of solitude. Which is fine.

Everyone is a fucking Napoleon.

"I know you love her (the supposed posters on your wall prove it) and me.... well, I'm pretty sure you like me."

He may not always be grammatically correct, and he may not be the closest and most convenient to see, and he may not always be the nicest a boy's ever been to me (Two words: crotch boy), but I really have a feeling about Theo.

Unfortunately, this does not really apply to our relationship. I hope.

your hand on his arm
the hay stack charm around your neck
strung out and thin
calling some friend trying to cash some check
he's acting dumb
that's what you've come to expect
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
he's wearing yr clothes
head down to toes a reaction to you
you say you know what he did
but you idiot kid
you don't have a clue
sometimes they just get caught in the eye
you're pulling him through
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
now on the bus
nearly touching this dirty retreat
falling out 6th and powell a dead sweat in my teeth
gonna walk walk walk
four more blocks plus one in my break
down downstairs to the man
he's gonna make it all ok
i can't beat myself
i can't beat myself
and i don't want to talk
i'm taking the cure so i can be quiet
whenever i want
so leave me alone
you ought to be proud that i'm getting good marks
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay

There is nothing slower than the economy and retail work post-Christmastime. I just spent the last 4.5 hours of my dwindling life folding the same goddamn "Sade" khakis over...and over...and over again. Good God...someone help me.

One thrill of the day was selling these randomly wild boxerbriefs to a really hot guy. I saw him fuddling through the boxerbrief section, and when he went up to purchase them, my manager called me over to check him out...er...I mean, ring him up. It was exciting! I'm sick.

Oh, but I really am--I've almost lost my voice totally. It's on the brink of depletion, and if I push it any more, it will be lost forever, I fear. I sound like a sixty-year-old smoker. If this is what i have to look forward to at the age of sixty, counting on my smoking continuing, perhaps I should quit while I'm still ahead.

Nah.

So, I guess Theo's coming over Thursday afternoon. Excitement! I was hoping we wouldn't just resort to another play-session, but if I have the house to myself...I might as well take advantage. Must think of something to do after we convene at my house.I love work, in that it gives me four hours to doze off mentally and think of him all evening. That's all I really do at the Gap. Today, I pondered (like a 1950s high school blonde cheerleader popping Pepto-Bosmol pink bubblegum) which song I'd choose to be "ours." I'm a very musical person, so I love to associate songs with people and relationships. Greg's was "Hanging By A Moment," and Bob's was "Kalifornication--" a song that wasn't really appreciated for its lyrical irony until AFTER we broke up. I still can taste the acid build in the back of my throat every time I hear it, the previous meal travel up my esophagus...yeesh. I think Theo and my's song very well could be Elliott Smith's "needle in the Hay," if not for its significance to our relationship, but also because I look at Theo as sort of a bright (intellectually and colorfully), beautiful, valuable, unprecedented needle in a haystack of crotch-driven, lispy, brainless, self-glorifying queens.

Today, a crusty-ish old man came and shot photos of me for the Daily Herald spread about All-State. (Musical, not choir.) I have this morbid blowjob-preperatory expression on my face...the setting was really awesome, but I'm concerned I'll look like a goof. I digress.

This is a long Blog. One more point, and I'm finished.

So, Seth broke my promise by telling Betsy about how I believe there's an "age gap" between she and I. Oh, and Matt came in to work today--I hadn't seen him since Christmas Eve. I thanked him for his Christmas gift, and he went flitting off in the store, to dance and sashay for the goofy poms that I work with.

I'm done.

I will not, as I worried, be allowed to participate in this weekend's debate tournament, as a result of my absence last week, when the permission slips were due. Now, I fear I may perform at several speech tournaments I do not want to do, like regionals, for nothing. Oh well.

My father really needs to LEAVE THE HOUSE. I hate having people right near me when I'm trying to engage in private time at the computer. Honestly...what an utter lack of disrespect for my raging teen-hormones.

Work tonight. Work tomorrow night. I don't even remember what work is like, hardly.

Further proof that I live in non-evolved white middle-class Hell--The most urban and interesting girl, who I certainly would have assumed were familiar with the following artist, did not know who Ani Difranco is. Now, while I may not have been a big fan of hers until The Age of Theo, I have been familiar with her for several years. Shocking.

And he's back.

Show choir...durr.

Presentation for All-State Honors Choir in front of school board members and audience...fun.

RECORDKEEPING...what in the name of God would sway someone to teach/take such a class?

AP English with Chris...this should be interesting, seeing as how he's only the most beautiful boy in school.

Theo...aaah. Comfort. Affection. Chinese chewy candies. The list does not cease. Jill v. excited to meet him this weekend.

More about things tomorrow...must complete evidence for debate now. Only one week overdue, hey...

I don't have much time to post, but I'll try to ReadersDigest-ize this as much as possible. This week, I had the All-State musical performance at ISU. It was an awesome experience, even though I began to despose some people by the week's end. I'm truly thrilled I was able to be a part of it, and I'm equally thrilled about the spread the Daily Herald is doing about me being in it. Publicity that!

Mr. Moeller. Durr. I feel really bad, because I had to sort of airbrush the truth to him. Surprisingly, I was able to work up some tears. I'll have to remember that for future emotional recall moments. But, God saw to it that everything went well. Must do something for Him. (Don't ask, I'm on a loving-God trip today.)

I hate my new schedule. Will speak more about this later.

Theo and I went to a wonderful Japanese grocery last night, and out to a vegetarian hole-in-the-strip-mall. It wasn't that horrible, aside from the apparent housing arrangement at the table to our right. (There were pillows and laundry and an iron and whatnot.) I think he and I need to do something other than our traditional "crummymealcarromance" sessions. I mean, it's good that we did those car rendez-vous(es), just because it helps establish the sexual attraction, but I just feel bad for always wanting to "play" with him. Always.

I think it would be absolutely grand to take Theo to Europe with me. However, that's really presumptuous of me, and rather illogical. Sigh.

Working in reverse order.

This evening Theo and I crossed a troublesome hurdle that had been a bit trying on both our parts: I finally orgasmed. You see, I have some sort of nerve-catalyzed sexual inhibition which does not allow me to always...enjoy things. Whenever we would "play" ( love that term), I would feel so guilty for not being able to fully enjoy the wonderfulness he was performing on my body. But, we crossed that stepping stone, and I hope it means the relationship has moved onto a closer level...especially now that I will be able to "perform" more frequently now, having gotten over the first time.

I really just enjoy holding his hand in my car more than just about anything else i can think of. Just being with him...sharing the same energy as him...getting my fingers sucked...(what a WONDERFUL thing...so erotic)...touching his leg, smelling his wonderfulness, imbibing his spoken thoughts and wondering about those which are left unspoken...what a wonderful puzzle he is.

Show choir was interesting. I love the choreography, and I think if I were in a different group, we would make it to finals, no doubt. But our group is very...unskilled and mostly fat. We don't look like we'd be starving in lower east New York City. I love the character I created for myself...would like to be him ("Ark"--short for Archimedes...I'm sick.). Overall I had fun bonding with Kassi, Jamie, Jill as always, Patrick, and my Francesca Lia Block novel. What an unusual set of stories...

Tomorrow, Van Gogh and Goughin, and a train ride to Betsy's humble abode in Lincoln.

I will try to sneak into an ISU computer lab this week to update during Theaterfest, but I'm not sure I'll be given the chance.

Show choir weekend...how horrible. Will have plenty to bitch about upon my return.

Hey...the nude pictures are NOT something I want him telling people about! Think about how many thousands of people read his blog...oy.

it's ok...I still like him. Lots. (See, it's okay to be simple.)

I don't DO HTML. Jesus. Dammit. Fuck.

A night of frustration and procrastination (finalshomeworkfamilyinsomnia) has turned me into a manic-depressive pile of Express clothes and over-stimulated nerves.

I never realized how homophobic my mother actually was until this evening. It seems that for this show choir retreat, we will be staying in triple-occupancy rooms, which either means there will be three heterosexual beds, or two boys will have to share a queen bed (no pun). My mother is continually bringing it up...
"Who are you rooming with?"
"How are you going to sleep in the same room as two other boys?"
"Maybe you should just bring a sleeping bag."
"There's always the bathtub, even though it's uncomfortable."
Thank you, dear Lord, for grasping me from the womb of this uneducated conservative cow.

I pity children who have non-college-graduate parents. How do they develop any sort of vocabulary or political grasp? I am a bitch. And really not spoiled/priveledged enough to speak of such things.

I see what Theo means now, about the difference between a single child and a child with one or more siblings. I would be a completely different person without Liz. Most likely, a better and less confrontational/melodramatic/argumentative child. I wonder. Note to self: must study child number relevance to personality next week.

*Legislative Newsflash*
One who has not lived to his 18th birthday cannot purchase a cigarette lighter. That is preposterous, for many reasons. First, not everyone uses lighters strictly for cigarettes. As my friend Shannon, who is very much a non-smoker demonstrated, she uses her lighter (which I subsequently stole) to ignite candles. Also, I don't know how it is for other regions, but I am under the distinct impression that Kane County law states that one may imbibe cigarettes following his 17th birthday, but may not purchase cigarettes until his 18th birthday. What sort of horseshit is this, that a mere non-tobacco-containing item such as a lighter is not purchasable until after the 18th birthday of the user? Christ in a casket.

I don't understand how my day could have been horrible, after reading Theo's blog this morning before I went to school. I have never felt so...girlish and bubby inside. The trouble is, of course, I feel goofy and borderline ashamed of my feelings for him, and have made it a point to not be very vocal in expressing said feelings. I merely mimic whatever he says to me really...it's sort of the "safe" thing to do. As I rehearse for All-State Honors (Ok, I'm joking. I don't ever practice anything.), I see more and more how Billy Joel's "And So It Goes" applies to my life so fittingly. (Or at least this situation.) Here are select lyrics.

In every heart, there is a room--a sanctuary safe and strong.
To heal the wounds of lover's past, until a new one comes along.
I spoke to YOU in cautious tones, you answered me with no pretense...
And still I feel I said too much, my silence is my self-defense.
But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake.

It continues, and I hope that my situation follows the lyrics. So, I will refrain from posting them until it happens.

I'm re-reading Theo's blog, piece by piece, because he read all of mine. (Granted, my blog is incredibly small, but...)

As already mentioned, I dislike my frequent use of the "w" word. So, I will simply make it clear that I had a more than pleasant time with Theo tonight--first at his beautiful little house, and then at Woodfield. He made a long-off theoretical proposition that excited me and warmed my frigid day/week. At least this means he thinks of me as less a temporary fixture of his life, and more a semi-permanent character in his twisted Wes Anderson-directed French-dubbed film of life.

TeaWithTheDucks: bah.... As simplistic as it sounds, I do really like you... a lot.
TeaWithTheDucks: i'm off, goodnight.
TeaWithTheDucks: you make laugh and I enjoy that.


That really just...makes my week. The sins of a bland New Year's Eve have been washed away with those words, and this evening.

Will refrain from poking fun at lack of pronoun, due to its cuteness and potential for offense.

When I waited in the lobby of AMC30 to get picked up for the train station, I thought about him. When I strolled down Armitage, a street we once drove down one night in the not-so-distant past, I thought of him. When I purchased and smoked a pack of Newport Mediums, I thought of him. As I stood on Navy Pier, and the fireworks exploded in their technicolor majesty and everyone around me was kissing and holding their special people, I thought of him.

Spending New Year's Eve without one's counterpart is torture.

Happy New Year's.