When I lived in Greenville, South Carolina, my sisters and I would join the neighborhood swim team every summer. Our coach was Coach Chris, a collegiate hellion who was out to whip our butts into swimming machines, and we were all of 11 and 12. The swim team was huge, over 200 kids, and we practiced in two different racing pools - twice a day for two hours, every day except Sunday. Meets were Thursday nights, and Friday morning practices were cut short to hand out ribbons, look over the newspaper clipping recaps of the races, and munch on doughnuts. The first week of my first summer swimming, I wanted to die, every practice was hell to me, I wanted to throw up so badly. But Chris coaxed me, and yelled at me, to get back in the water, and "GO HARD!" which was his swim team mantra. And our swim team wasn't just large, it was good. The majority of the team swam year-round competitively and we all knew our strokes. Laura was a flyer, Jess was a breaststroker, and I was a backstroker. Man, the backstroke was my thing, I practically sat in the water, and the plume I kicked up was awesome. I used to practice in my pool, just to get the right amount of splash. By my second summer, I was in the league with the 15-18 year olds, and I was 12. Every morning my sisters and I would wake up at the crack of dawn, and ride our bikes a little over a mile to the clubhouse, do two hours of swimming, and ride the mile back to our house. We would stay in our bathing suits all day, running around screaming and playing around, and we would also set up chairs in the kitchen, prop our feet up on the counters, and watch HBO for hours on the mini-TV that was on my mom's desk. That was the life man, swimming, hanging out, and swimming some more. We had the greatest times. We'd go running around the neighborhood, sometimes on bikes, sometimes barefoot, and we'd race down to the lake, or the dock, and then wade into the creek, and build forts and have mud fights with friends. We were practically on our own all summer, running around till all hours of the night (which was like 10, at that age) with flashlights and half-flat bottles of soda. We owned the summer, nothing could take it away from us. And today I read an article in the AJC (completely bad choice, I know) and find out that most kids are not given the freedom for their summers that I was given only 5 years ago. They have to have planned activities, schedules, babysitters, and their mothers must know where they are at all hours of the day. It's disgusting to think that the very essence of summer, the freedom of it all, is being stripped away from the youth of America. This in addition to the collapse of corporate America (Worldcom, and MARTHA STEWART?), the unconstitutionality of the Pledge, and Cheney-gate have all added up to a very, very un-fun summer. Piss on adults, I don't want to be one for a while, I would like to revert to my fun-filled summer days in Greenville, and never let them go.

Tear drop 1:40 AM of Sarah

Raspberry is the coolest flavor ever. So who's up for a road trip to Daniel's? Anyone? Anyone? Amy and I are planning to go (maybe) so look out Daniel, save us some space somewhere. You should be very, very afraid. Or happy. You choose. I feel studious. I feel envigored (is that a word, I like it a lot anyway...) and upbeat and full of momentum and possibilities. And of course, I have to go to bed in 20 minutes so that I will have enough energy to pass the mile run tomorrow. This has been a trial. I have taken 2 minutes off my mile time. I like running, it's fun, except for the whole shin splint idea. That's not too cool. I may continue running after this class is over. Yay. Step aerobics is cool, too. Personal fitness is OVER as of Thursday, and we're having a fun day tomorrow. And then a final (eew) which shouldn't be too hard. But I really, really want to stay up late and type away into the night. I miss doing that, I'm always too tired to do anything these days.What's happening to my summer? It's slipping away from me day after day. But, I'm getting fitter (wooohoooo) which is always a plus, and I'm actually getting a tan. Of course, it is in funky stripes because of my many different strap-width tank tops, but who cares? I have pigmentation! On another Shakespeare quib, Two Gentlemen of Verona is playing at Oglethorpe College, Tuesdays thru Sundays, through August 1st. We should go. Tickets are cheap. Yay. I think I'm getting shallower as my summer goes on. This should be fixed, soon.

Tear drop 10:13 PM of Sarah

Did I ever mention the fact that I am in HATE with personal fitness? I am. Let there be no question about my feelings for this god-awful, 5 hour long torture session. It should be outlawed. Yuck. The day started off well, I had a dream about Ewan and Hogwarts and Milton (strange addition, but it worked out nicely) and I woke up on time, after staying up late to finish re-reading The Goblet of Fire for the 8th time. But things went downhill from there - my shorts weren't my shorts, they were my sisters, which meant I had to hunt through the clothes on my floor to find something clean. And then I came downstairs and made myself cocoa, and grabbed breakfast, and waited for my youngest sister to come down. She was late. Great. And then, the worst thing happened. I came out to the car, and I put the coffee mug on top of the car, as I have done 8,000 times before (can you see where this is going) and then my sister slammed her car door. And the coffee mug fell off the top of the car, and the cocoa spilled all over me (my face, arms, legs, clothing...) and also all over the garage floor and the car. And then the mug shattered. It was awful. I just finished cleaning the floor. And now I have to go shower and go to work. This sucks.

Tear drop 3:27 PM of Sarah

I hate the male race. I hate every single one of those testosterone filled fuckers. You all better run for cover, because I am seriously pissed off at every single one of you. I would like to rip out your testicles and staple them to your foreheads, just so that I don't have to worry about being told "I had sex" twice in one weekend. I don't want to have to argue with people and keep a frickin dictionary open next to me, so that I understand complex sentences at 4:40 in the morning. I don't want to have my conventions challenged, my hopes shattered, my emotions run amok, my mind placed into chaos, and my nervous system set on haywire. This doesn't work for me! If you could all just get together and decide, we're not going to tell Sarah about what goes on in Puerto Rico/anywhere in the world sexually, I would be ok. Because I don't want to know it! Especially if I've just spent hours arguing with you about other things. I cannot handle it.

Tear drop 4:43 AM of Sarah

What happens when every truth you've held for 4 years suddenly gets thrown out the window and everything that you've valued for those 4 years is suddenly lost, and everything is different? I don't know what to do, I don't know how to handle this new situation that was thrown at me yesterday, completely out of the blue. I never, ever, ever thought that this would happen. Ever. I knew that he would stay true to himself, as he'd told me to do SO MANY different times. I knew that all of those conversations that we had had about this very subject would come into play later on in our lives, and he would do something different from what he actually did. But instead of going along with the plan, and listening to his old self, he went ahead and did something strange. And when he told me yesterday, in the middle of a tickle war in fighting for the couch, he stopped and looked up at me, and uttered this mind blowing sentence, which I cannot relay in this forum, because I don't know if I'm sworn to secrecy or not. And when he said that, my mind went numb. Every single thought that had been floating around in my brain slammed on its brakes, and made a screeching halt. A wave of nausea swept over me, and it was all that I could do to keep from bursting into tears. I had to leave, I had to get out, so I left, and drove to Amy's. And on the way back GooGoo Dolls was blaring, and the windows were down, and I remembered that summer always made me think of him, and that this music had part of him in it, and I started crying, and screaming, and I nearly ran a red light. And so I called Preston, and asked him why, if I didn't care about him that way anymore, and hadn't for a long time, that I was feeling as shitty as I did. I asked him why I felt like I was being left behind in this great trial, even though I don't care at all to undertake it yet. And he said maybe it was because I felt like I had staked a claim on him first, you know? Like he was supposed to be mine, just based on past experiences. But that doesn't help me at all, I still don't understand. And no one else understands either, no one can explain to me why I am so bent out of shape about this. They just tell me my hysterics should not be allowed when I am a threat to society (i.e. driving a car), etc.etc.
God, and then to make things worse, I started talking to my Albuquerque bud tonight, the other Albuquerque bud, and I was so happy to talk to him. I was thrilled, because I love talking to him, I love being part of his life. But whenever I talk to him, I manage to do something to piss him off, make him angry with my words or actions. I can never be good enough for him. Am I one of those chicks who needs to be put through the wringer to be happy? Because even with all the arguments that I try to avoid (though I LOVE them) I still come online and expect him to be sunshiney and happy. I probably shouldn't talk about this here, just in case he ever reads it. I don't want to lose him.
On a happier note, I now have a new actor to crush on, Mr. Colin Farrell, of Minority Report, Hart's War, and a few other films, hailing from Dublin, Ireland (oh the accent, oh the accent) completely gorgeous, and quite verbose. Wow. And Amy, Ewan is MUCH, MUCH better than Jimmy. Sorry.

Tear drop 2:46 AM of Sarah

I haven't blogged since Sunday, but you know, getting up at 6:45 every morning, spending 5 hours of a day doing personal fitness in the sun, napping for a few hours, and then spending time with your grandparents really, really takes it out of you. I am so exhausted, and my muscles - they don't feel nothing like steel. Just a little Clueless allusion there. No seriously, I feel like spaghetti - step aerobics, track, ultimate frisbee, book work, tae bo, track, and weight room. Wow, that's exhaustion if I have ever felt it. But at least I'll be in shape for band camp (fun stuff) which leads me to a point that has led me to NOT blog for a few days, because I'm having trouble dealing with this issue. I'm not sure if I want to do Colorguard this fall. I really, really want to quit. But something's holding me back, and I think it's all the fun I had last year, and all the fun I know I'll have this year... it's just 1) I'm not sure I'm going to have enough time - I have to WORK to earn money to pay for my insurance/gas (which are both uber expensive for my gas guzzling Explorer, Layla,) and I'm taking 4 AP classes next year, along with one Honors French class, which I've heard is hell on Earth. And 2) I really, really, really, really want to participate heavily in drama club this year. We're doing SHAKESPEARE. I have been enamored with Shakespeare since I was 8, and we're doing one of my favorite plays. And I'm actually being considered for one of my favorite roles - I would die of happiness if I managed to get the part. And I know that if I audition and I haven't quit colorguard, someone who is just as qualified as I am for the role will get it over me because their scheduling conflicts will be less than mine. And I don't think I could handle that! I would die! But then again, I don't want to give up guard only to not get a role in the play, leaving me with NOTHING to do next semester - I need something besides work to keep me on my toes. Everything is just so up in the air, so confusing. I need to talk to someone who does BOTH, or has done both. I was thinking Drew, because Drew did marching band, and now he does drama. Help me, Drew! And then there is the fact that I absolutely cannot STAND cologuard politics, not to mention marching band politics. And that the majority of the guard is composed of people whose necks I would LOVE to wring. I swear, out of 25 girls, I can stand about 5. I actually like about 3. I don't know what to do! And I've talked to all my friends who are one sided - you know, all the Drama kids say drop it, all the band geeks say keep it. Agh!
And lately I've been feeling a little lonely, you know. I'm not only missing my friends, but I'm missing other, special people, other feelings, etc. With the advent of prom, things were looking up on the relationship-y side for me, you know? For someone who lives in my own state, etc. etc. And then it all dropped off, and excuse me for saying something weird, but after having gone through those weeks of mutual physical and emotional attraction, to have it all stripped away suddenly is overwhelmingly sad.
Not to mention that my friend, Meagan, just moved out of her house to an apartment in Canton, GA, which happens to be in the same building that Preston lives in. Which means that right about now, she and Preston will probably be going at it like rabbits. They're both like that, and neither of them has gotten any in a while. Sorry, that was probably a TMI, but it's on my mind, and I'm venting, so piss off. And it doesn't help that she just broke up with her boyfriend, or that she dropped out of school in January, but now goes to Independence and works like 80 hours a week. She's so much different from the girl that I knew in 8th grade - in 8th grade she was the bright bubbly one that brought me out of my shell. Now she's all moody and too adult-ish for me. I feel like a child compared to her, though I've done a lot of things she hasn't done, and been a few places she hasn't been. But that's the past, and I put that behind me, and now it's her future, you know? She's put her entire future on the line here, and I'm not sure how to act around her or anything. It's weird man, to have someone you knew, and loved, and trusted so much just change in the blink of an eye. I guess it all goes back to that night she got on the wrong MARTA train after Music Midtown last year. But who knows? I can speculate all I like, but it won't get me anywhere. And it won't help her, and it won't help our friendship, so what should I do? Just let it slide, along with our friendship? Should I cast her out of my existance because I don't agree with her anymore? Or should I try and hold onto the small threads of the girl I knew in 8th grade because we only have one more year left together, and I should make it count? And what about our whole relationship with Sean? We were the three musketeers, man. Me, Sean, and Meagan, always around each other, bound in an impossible love triangle, terrible, terrible, terrible. But it was so much fun! We had the time of our lives, just being together, hanging out, laughing. We're all so different from our 8th grade selves, even me, I guess especially me, in my own way. I mean, Sean used to be this quiet, introverted guy. I still remember the day I knew I wanted to be his best friend. His dad had come to school to yell at him, because he wasn't supposed to wear black to school, and he did. And he came into math class with these red, swollen eyes, and sat down behind me, and I just knew. I knew that I needed to protect him, needed to be his best friend. And so I did, and we did, and then in 9th grade it all changed, and I was the one who ended up needing his protection. And Meagan went to another school, and so she wasn't as up on the events of our lives as she had been, but she was there peripherally, you know? And then she got separated at Music Midtown, she got on the line to Doraville, we got on the one to North Springs, and that was the beginning of the separation. And now we're so changed. Sean is such a little dick, but he still takes care of me, still lets me leap up on him and hug him in the halls at summer school, still lets me love on him and be his friend. We have good times, and get together a lot. In fact, we're getting together tomorrow. And I'm different, but I don't know how to describe it. I guess I should just say what Mr. Wade tells me when we talk about this kind of stuff... I am a product of my experiences, and how those shitty, shitty things that happened to me in 9th and 10th grades have affected me, I'm not quite sure. Maybe people who have known me for a long time can tell that I've changed, or maybe it's those people who don't really see that I'm all that different from the girl they met at Webb Bridge. Maybe it all ties in with that quote, you know the one, "you can never go home again." Maybe 8th grade was my home, scary isn't it, because I hated, hated, hated that year. But if you think about it that way, we high schoolers, seniors especially, we can never go back to the innocence that we had then. We have been corrupted and changed to the point that if we were able to go back in time and visit our former selves, we probably wouldn't recognize them, which is scary, scary. And now we're off wandering, searching for our new home, which lies somewhere on a distant horizon, or for some, in a loft in Canton, GA. Who knows?

Tear drop 11:00 PM of Sarah

Guess who just happened to walk into my work today, hot younger brother in tow? POB. Yes, chicks, the one and only POB, who conversed with me (!!!!) and said he thinks he saw me around school. I exist! Agh. They were there for an HOUR. Wow. Prime eye candy. I feel like watching Dogma, or some other fun movie. I returned Mulholland Drive today, along with Trainspotting. Blockbuster's return policies suck. I had to get up early just to not have to pay a late fee. Gross. Not much else to say here. I should probably get moving with the whole reading/annotating thing that I have put off for the past few weeks. Got a lot to do, and I start summer school on Tuesday. Gross.

Tear drop 11:22 PM of Sarah

Oh, I just realized that I was thinking all night about how much I am going to miss my friends that are leaving tomorrow, or sometime this week. I've said good-bye to some, some I have missed. I wish I could have given them a more proper send-off into their wonderful, fabulous vacations, even if they are only to Boys State, or something, because I never go ANYWHERE! So, I was talking to people tonight, and I started humming a good-bye song, and even though it's told from the wrong point of view for this to make real sense, just imagine it does. And leave out all the love and gushy stuff. Not in that kind of mood.

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standing here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
But the dawn is breakin', its early morn
The taxi's waiting, he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could cry.

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
I'm leavin' on a jet plane
I Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go.

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I tell you now, they don't mean a thing
Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back, I'll wear your wedding ring.

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
I'm leavin' on a jet plane
I Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go.

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time let me kiss you
Then close your eyes, I'll be on my way.
Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times, I won't have to say,

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
I'm leavin' on a jet plane
I Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go.

Have fun!



Tear drop 3:00 AM of Sarah

Yum. Some people say that watermelon is the quintessential summer fruit. On most days, I would have to agree with these people. But on days like today, when I am savoring the taste of fresh summer raspberries, I disagree with these people wholeheartedly. The raspberry is the fruit of choice. It is so soft, almost pulpy, but it's palpable fruitness is contained in tiny capsules, arranged in rows like bunches of grapes. Inside each capsule is the sweetest, sourest, most wonderful taste in the world. Mix in a little vanilla ice cream, and VOILA, a taste sensation. These can only be found in the early summer, so please, please, please go out and buy some of these beauties to savor over the next few weeks. Ahhh...

I have just pushed my chances of getting a raise very far away from me. I happened to show up 15 minutes late to a store meeting this morning, which my manager pronounced as "unacceptable" and reamed me a new one in front of everyone. When Sean worked there, Sean would not even call and tell us he wasn't showing up on some days, and we would be left high and dry. Yet Eric never ONCE yelled at Sean. And Sean: 9 months in the same place I was, pissing off the manager/district manager, never making his sales goal, not following dress code: 3 raises. Sarah: 2 years of always making other people happy, never had a disciplinary infraction until today, made every sales goal except one: 1 raise, 2nd raise pending. This sucks. Sexist fucking shithole. That and a customer reamed me and the entire staff a new one this afternoon, which completely crushed my self-esteem levels for the day, and completely soiled my reputation in my neighborhood, as the bitchy customer was, in fact, my neighbor. Could my work life get any worse? Probably not, except for the fact that my sales goal just went up 3,000 dollars, I am working every day next week except Monday (including weekend hours), I'm starting summer school, which, as it turns out, is PERSONAL FITNESS first semester, and economics second, which completely ruins any hope for decent tan lines come Senior Pictures on the 14th. And it wil make me all sweaty and sore all the time, and will aggravate both shin splints and faulty knee. I am a walking, talking trauma unit. I am literally falling apart, I swear I'm about 90 years old. Except my skin's not all saggy. Gross.

Why am I so stressed out? IT'S SUMMER FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. Oh and goddamn, speaking of CHRIST, my coworker now accuses me of being at least one of, and possibly all of the following: a heretic, a blasphemer, a non-believer, and a bad person. First I was a blasphemer because I love the song "Imagine" by John Lennon. Love that song! Taught myself to play it on the piano, know all the lyrics, put it on about 30 mixes, and play it to soothe my nerves. Plus it makes my mom cry, and forget that she's angry with me. Always a good thing. So when I sat down to play it on a digital (oh god, the rape of the musical world) piano (get a Steinway, get something made of real wood, with ivory keys, and actual pedals and everything) at work, he freaked out. And since then, he has been following me around telling me I'm not a good Christian, that I don't believe in God, that my family and I are going to hell, and that he "doesn't know what I do on the weekends, but is sure it can't be good." GAAAH. And to think that this is the person I almost set Ashleigh up with for prom. Oh no. And we had a discussion about abortion today, in which I revealed that I am entirely pro-choice, though I couldn't do it, and he FREAKED OUT, and told me that when I got to hell, all the babies that were murdered by pro-choicers just like me were going to laugh at me and torment me for eternity. I told him that they would have plenty of other pro-choicers to torment as well, how much time could they spend on me? No, I really do feel bad about all of this stuff. Abortion makes me sick to my stomach, but I believe in a woman's right to choose, and that there are certain circumstances, like rape, where being prepared or being responsible was not the cause for the baby alarm in the downtown sector of a female's body. But he just wouldn't listen to me.

I've gone off on complete tangents from my main idea, from one to another to another. But I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching Mulan today, I love it, it's so cool. I want to be like Mulan. And I watched Mulholland Drive this evening with my dad and little sister, which was an eye-opening experience for them both. And my grandparents are here, and it's actually been kind of fun, playing Tripoly, etc. Except when my dad decided to declare war on me, and renew old battles about Georgia schools vs. my chosen schools in front of my Columbus, GA. born and bred grandparents. Other than that, I have not much else to say. I wish I could be like Emily and just follow my tangents to wherever they lead, but I can't. I think I censor myself to much. Maybe I don't censor myself enough. Tell me.


Tear drop 2:49 AM of Sarah

Mulholland Drive. That is a fucking movie, man, that is a fucking mind-bender of a movie. I thought I understood it, you know, until the last half-hour. And then it all went to pieces, and I realized that I had no earthly idea of what was going on. It doesn't help that I spent half the movie with my fingers sort-of covering my eyes, because the scary guy traumatized me in the first 15 minutes of the movie. I realized then that I would have to watch it again. So I did - and it didn't help, except that I caught the bits that my eyes had been covered for. It doesn't make any more sense than it did after the first time I watched it. I've considered mapping out things on paper, on Word, but I'm not sure if that would work. Email me if you want to discuss the movie, or want to tell me that I'm just plain crazy. Whichever.
I read Daniel's blog right after I watched the movie for the first time, which lead to a very, very odd mixture of feelings swirling around in my chest cavity, tear ducts, and brain. I bawled, of course.

Spent the afternoon running around town, mostly with Amy. Woke up at 2:30 (a new low for me) and proceeded to charge out of the house to pick up my paycheck, only to spend another 1/2 hour there waiting for my mother to call me with our account number at the bank, because I had lost the piece of paper. Oops. I had a good time with Preston and Nigel though, they made me giggle, which is a very, very good thing. Then I pulled out my handy-dandy Mapquest driving directions, and found my way over to Daniel's house, which would have taken me half the time, had I known it was off Crabapple. Oh well. I spent all of two minutes at Daniel's, and drove, highly confused, to Amy's, and then McDonalds, and then home - to watch Emma, which was very good, and made me very giddy. I definately noticed its relationship with Clueless, which, as it turns out, Ewan McGregor hated. Amy and I then took off for blockbuster to rent Trainspotting and Mulholland Drive, neither of which I had ever seen. We spent the last few hours of the night watching Trainspotting, which was overall a good flick, but I think Irvine Welsh missed his ending a couple times over. I kept thinking it was done, done, done, only to have there be more flick left to view. I do think that his final ending was a good show, and needed all previous miss-endings to make sense, so I reversed opinions, and decided I had enjoyed my Ewan fest for the day.

My grandparents arrive today at 11 o'clock-ish, which should be entirely amusing, as I'm not sure if they'll actually arrive on time. This was a bad weekend to pick to come - I work, I have other obligations, and then of course, summer school. What fun. So, I'll get yelled at later on for not spending enough time with my grandparents, which I'm sure to regret later, but have no control over now. I get that conversation every time one of my sets of grandparents comes to visit - it's not MY FAULT they come the week of finals each semester, now is it? Nope, didn't think so. I have to go to sleep soon because I have a store meeting (blech) at 8 in the morning, and am not looking forward to it. Caffeine is a very good thing, especially in the eyes of one accustomed to going to bed at 4 in the morning.

Tear drop 3:52 AM of Sarah

When I fell asleep last night, I fell asleep dreaming of Connecticut. Oh man, Connectiut was beautiful. Where I lived, it had not been corrupted by anything. I lived in a tiny, tiny town that was pure of all things over commercialized. Nature was constantly changing - the perfect phase change for each season was acquired in my little town. Just enough time spent in the beautiful pristine cover of winter, a long, glorious spring, a short, somewhat cool summer, the most beautiful fall I have ever seen (the leaves turned the brightest, most enchanted colors...) only to fade back into winter at the appropriate time. Wow. And my house, my house was amazing. My room alone was the size of a three car garage, not including my closet/bathroom. The closet could have been a bedroom. And everything was large, grand and glorious, but compact enough to keep the family together. And I could hide away in my window seat, surrounded by my bookcases, and read and read for hours. And school there - Stepney Elementary was a school above all other schools I have attended. And that's quite a few. On my first day of school my entire 3rd grade class followed me to lunch - because they were intrigued by the girl who had lived in Orlando, Florida. I flourished there - it was the greatest school - I headed up the canned food drive, the basketball team, the soccer team - I bet none of you can see me doing those things now, but I did! And I was still smart, still happy. And as I was thinking about this last night, I realized that when I moved away from Connecticut, that was when I lost my spirit, lost my drive to succeed. I am going to kill my parents. I could have been a fucking doctor.

Tear drop 12:44 AM of Sarah

There is one guy in my life, who can flip my life upside down, no matter what time of day, no matter where his location. And my emotions run completely out of kilter when I think of him, see him, hear him... when I talk to him online my mind goes aflutter with the thoughts that he pours into it. He is brilliant, and wisened beyond his years. When he speaks, all I want to do is gape at him, mouth open in awe of his life. And the best part is - he lives over 2,000 miles away. That's a 36 hour car drive, a 4 hour plane ride, $496.17 away from where I sit in my computer chair in Georgia. Actually it sucks. And another suckey thing about it is the fact that he doesn't know. And he hasn't talked to me for three weeks. I think he hates me, because ever since April our conversations have been strained, cut short by schoolwork or general detachment. And now he's in Puerto Rico of all places, having a grand time, and probably kissing some wonderful Puerto Rican girl (which is what his father did in order to get him) and he's completely not thinking about me. When every spare minute I have is spent agonizing over the fact that I think I may love him. Not some stupid kid idea of love, but actual love, because I have never wanted to be around a person who irritates me more. We have screaming fits at each other sometimes, and I always come back for more, and generally, he's there waiting for me. But he hasn't been for the past three weeks, and I am about to go nuts, because I really, really wish that he was around more. And it's not like he'll visit, because he can't. And it's not like I can talk to him on the phone, because he doesn't do phones. The only places I have him are over the internet, in AIM conversations, and when I go to where he is. And, newsflash, guys.... it isn't Casey.

Tear drop 12:33 AM of Sarah

Ah. Ewan McGregor may be challenging Hayden Christensen for number one yum in my list. Wow. The MTV Movie Awards definately changed my perception of him. Dude - raspberries make sounds that sound like "pfbt" when they are made. Get over it Garrett, I am correct! I should never, ever be allowed to eat Pixxie Stix again, as I am so high on straight sugar that I am quite sure that I am floating. I am sorry, Laura, for depleting your stash. I am ashamed. As one can tell I have absoutely nothing profound or interesting to say, go read my blog about white pizza, I thought it was funny. And a little side note : GO REDWINGS! (Happy Daniel?)

Tear drop 12:00 AM of Sarah

White pizza. Definately an interesting invention, though it is not exactly what I would call a culinary masterpiece. Pizza with no sauce is just weird, man - it detracts from the holy creation that is pizza. When I get to college, I fully intend to live off boxes of pizza while I pull the last remaining threads of hair from my head and scream with all the wonderful stress I keep inside. And when I do so, I will expect to be made calmer by the healing power of pizza, which would be highly impaired by the fact that there is no sauce between the dough and the cheese. There needs to be a barrier there - cheese on dough is just not quite as cool as cheese on sauce on dough. And what's with the weird lumps of white Ricotta cheese placed randomly over the slices? When the pizza was first put on the table, I thought they were lumps of sour cream, which would have been really strange, but instead cheese! That cheese belongs on lasagna, thank you very much, another of Italy's wonderful culinary creations. And last, but not least, there was the fact that the pizza place put oil on top of the pizza, which Laura, Amy, and I sponged off with a multitude of napkins. Jason happily chowed down immediately, giving no regard to the lumps of sour cream- like cheese or the rivers of oil on top of the cheese which directly touched dough. Pizza is a very sacred substance to me, so maybe I'm just being weird. Oh well, Music and Arts calls, and then... vive la MTV!


Tear drop 3:58 PM of Sarah

It's 3:30 in the morning, and no one is online! What is the matter with you people? You mean to say that you actually prefer the daytime to staying up late into the wee hours of the morning, reading delicious books and staring blearily at your computer screen? Blasphemers, all of you! I suppose that I should not exactly cry out with rage, because I did sign off rather abruptly this evening after deciding that I was going to be whiny and pout all evening about my friendships, or lack thereof. But there is no more pouting to do, as I am just a stupid baby anyway, and nothing I perceive as fact is more than fiction. Umm, Drew.... I know there is something I wanted to tell you.... OH YES~ My father rented Mulholland Drive the other night while I was out with friends, and discovered that he did not particularily care for it either. And my father's pretty much on our side, regarding films, etc. even ones with overly sexual themes (i.e. Wild Things) and it's not just your parents who feel weird about David Lynch - he returned it before I could see it (darn him) so I can't pass judgement, but I want to rent it. I feel like prattling on about inconsequential details of life, but I choose not to because I have a headache, and my eyes are beginning to go sleepy. So, I leave you with one tantalizing statement (I hope...) I wholly desire to be a mage. Enough said.

Tear drop 4:06 AM of Sarah

"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do" .... sometimes I feel so disconnected from my friends.

Tear drop 10:49 PM of Sarah

I was putting some things away in my closet a few minutes ago (it now being 4 o'clock in the morning) and I came out of my closet, rather I turned around, and faced the mirror in the "vanity" part of the room. I was deeply shocked by what I saw - for all I knew I could have been a 39 year old farmers wife - my hair was rough and dry, pulled back hastily in a makeshift ponytail at the nape of my neck. My eyes were reddened by my lack of sleep, and they were world weary and drooping, with dark grey half-moons of loosened mascara and eyeliner dust beneath them, giving my eyes a hollow, deadened look. My mouth was devoid of colour - it was almost whiteish gray, drawn, tired - completely lacking the smile or glint of happiness I normally wear. My skin was sallow, a bit green around the edges, and there was no trace of the pink that I had received from being in the sun. I was wearing a housedress my mother had dropped into my room earlier today - it was a simple dress with a princess waist and a v-neck, sage in color, with t-shirt sleeves, and a skirt that came to mid-calf, made completely of cotton. The dress fit to my frame poorly, and only did to accentuate the less pleasing aspects of my form. My stomach and wide frame seemed largened, my arms bulky and reddened by the sun, my lower portions seemed to reach up and swallow my chest, neck, and shoulders, a giant teardrop in green. The stark contrast to the girl I see in the mirror every day - a girl with her hair done up in "puppy-dog ears" that spill curls down her shoulders, with neat make-up, a fresh complexion, bright eyes, and comfortable, somewhat fashionable clothing on her body. In the mirror I looked harsh and hardened by some unknown force. I did not know what to make of this poor creature, this woman who was starving for happiness and content. And then I realized that this woman was me, just a 17 year old girl at 4 o'clock in the morning, putting clothes away in her closet. What should I make of that? Am I to grow up to be unhappy, drawn and grim without becoming a happy, successful Lit teacher / writer who eventually grew out of her mother-ship stage that she'd held for the entirety of the Georgia years? Or was that just a simple glimpse of what I could be if I chose not to pursue my dreams and tagged along on someone elses? I don't know. The thoughts make me shudder and wince with the notions of the future - I am tired and the nightmares are feeding on the frailty of my brain. To sleep, to sweat, to waking fear in the shadows displaced by my two nightlights... or to insomnia, once again, my first of the summer.... the night knows.

Tear drop 4:42 AM of Sarah

Delicious. That is how summer should be described, in a word. Summer should be delicious in it's sights, tastes, sounds, etc. etc. Instead, the word for this summer is sweltering. It did not reach 90 degrees until July last summer, and even before June began we had passed that temperature mark on the thermometer. Instead of reading my books outside on my back porch, reclining gloriously on the chaise lounge drinking cold sweet tea and somewhat tanning, I have instead been cooped up inside, wrapped up in the cocoon of my bed with the fan whirring speedily overhead, my vents blasting arctic air, in a tank top, reading my books, with a Coca-Cola, and no sweet tea. This discourages me from believing that this summer will be anything like those that I have enjoyed in the past, but perhaps I will be mistaken. One can only hope that days of personal fitness in addition to guard/band practice will not be subject to quite so sweltering a heat, but it is not likely. The thunder calls me away from my computer in this typical summer storm. Adieu.

Tear drop 12:56 AM of Sarah

I am sorry to admit it, but I am in fact, a girly-girl in disguise. Well, sometimes. Mostly I'm still 12 on the inside, where I can go to the bookstore and still love to look through Young Adult fiction, and buy those books like the Alice series by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, and the books by Tamora Pierce. For the past year or so, I have been in love with the goofy books by Meg Cabot, the Princess Diaries. I am in love, I must admit. I just finished reading number three, Princess in Love . I had to read the last 10 pages twice because I was giggling and shrieking with joy so loudly that I could not actually concentrate on what was happening, just the IDEA of what was happening. So there you have it, I am a sucker for FLUFF. Some people are suckers for bad science fiction, boy bands, candies, I am a sucker for the fluff novel. If any of you other girly-girls out there are ever interested in fluff, check the ones I've mentioned out. It's always good to stay in touch with the girl you were in 6th grade. She'll always be hiding somewhere inside of you, just waiting for the right book to come along and set her free.

Tear drop 2:54 AM of Sarah

I must harp for a moment about cokes. The idea of a coke is simply one of the greatest ideas to come into this world. Think about it - without the ultimate satisfaction found in a bottle of coke, the world would be a desolate place. And the coke doesn't necessarily have to be in a bottle - it can be in a can (it's most common form), in a plastic bottle, or even in a glass over crushed ice. Yum. There are times when a Coca-Cola is simply the greatest substance in the world, when drinking a Coke is the only thing that one can be doing at that point in time. It just feels right. So my friends, go down to your refridgerators, and pull out a coke. Pop the top, and guzzle it down. As the liquid is coursing down to your stomach, a cold rush of bubbles and caffeinated syrup, I promise you, you will feel good.

Tear drop 12:35 AM of Sarah

Ah, the glory that is drama fun. Before this year, I did not have any knowledge of my two favorite types of fun: drama fun and band fun. Band fun, is in fact, fun, but lately I have been getting a great dose of the overall greatness located in hanging out with my drama buddies. Today got off to a slow start: I awoke after sleeping 12 and 1/2 hours hours straight, and my mother took me out bed shopping with her (her mattress is like 18 years old) and informed me while we were out that I wasn't allowed to go anywhere until my room was clean. So, I rushed back home, and needless to say, my room is very neat, and vacuumed. This is a major accomplishment for me. I once went a whole month without vacuuming. Sometimes I can't even see the floor! Then I hurried to Jason's - I was the first to arrive, followed quickly by Amy, Bethany, Sara, and Laura. We stood around in the foyer for a moment, just discussing things, and then went to discuss the ideas for the show next year. Completely switching our ideas around, we then landed upon the idea of doing something Shakespearean, and all the other ideas were tossed out the window. We decided to update a Shakespeare, and though I won't tell you which one I think we've chosen, I will say that it was not Romeo and Juliet. Thank god for that, because I just don't know if I could have handled that. The mere suggestion made my stomach churn and my heart shudder with revulsion. Romeo and Juliet is my favorite play, my first Shakespeare, at the age of 8. Wow. Shakespeare and I are close... After the decision, the hours tolled by gloriously by playing Act One - which I lost the first time. But no matter, we were off to Atlanta Bread Company for dinner, and then to Blockbuster, and then back to Jason's. Once at Jason's we viewed From Hell, which is a total pillow clencher. I was scared out of my mind, and I'm still mad at you guys for that time when Jason screamed and you all KNEW that nothing was going to happen, and I didn't. Damn you all to hell. It was a good way to start off my horror movie viewing trend, as I have not seen one since April of 8th grade, when I got really sick, really scared, and I didn't sleep for a week. After From Hell we played Act One again, and Love Satellite won! Woohoo, Adam and Lindsey, we rock the socks off our opponents - oh yeah. Then my father called and ruined the fun, and I drove home listening to 97.1, which was what Daniel had turned the station to while we were driving. So I was sitting at the stoplight from Jones Bridge onto Kimball, and all of a sudden "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding came on, and it was a blissful moment. I had just spent oodles of time with friends that I love to death, and I could never ask for better friends, ever, and I was returning home to my computer (yes I love it, I know, it's sick...) where I could talk to all of my good buddies some more, and I just felt right, I felt perfect. I felt infinite and invincible, all at once. It was a wonderful teenage moment - just like singing along to Less Than Jake with Bethany this afternoon, driving around town, singing with Daniel and talking on my cell phone to Laura, discussing Shakespeare, playing fun games, ordering pizza... it was all delicious fun. And so I leave you with a song...
Sittin' in the morning sun
I'll be sittin' when the evening comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch 'em roll away again
I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll a-way
I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time
I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the Frisco Bay
Coz I had nothing to live for
And look like nothing's gonna come my way, so I'm
Looks like nothing's gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can't do what them people tell me to do
So I guess I'll remain the same
Sittin' here restin' my bones
And this loneliness won't leave me alone
This two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home

That's all I want to do with you guys all summer - just waste time, have fun. Love to all.

Tear drop 11:43 PM of Sarah

I bet you all thought I had died or something. No blogging, no im. Am I wrong? Generally I overestimate my value as a person, but we'll leave that at that. I had a panic attack today at work. Last February (as in 2001) a 70 year old man came into the store with his 15 year old son (which is kind of sick) and proceded to yell at me, and make me burst into tears in the middle of the sales floor, and then Preston made me leave the sales floor, and it took me 20 minutes in the back room to compose myself. Today, at 4:50 pm (mind you we close at 5 on Sundays) this very same man comes in with his son. I take one look at him, and I can't breathe. Literally! But the kid knows me, and automatically comes over to me, and starts talking about how he wants to buy this 2,000 dollar clarinet. Not one to pass up a good sale when my sales goal is now over 5,000 dollars, and I missed last months by 38 bucks, I went after it. And 45 minutes later I proceded to go to the back room, slump against a concrete wall, and bawl. And then I made my way to Barnes and Noble. Barnes and Noble should have cheered me up, bookstores always do, but it didn't. I was tired, my blood sugar was low, I had been on my feet for 6 hours just STANDING there, and I had a headache. It was not too cool. But I bought all of my books for school, and a fun book (The Good People of New York, by Thisbe Nissen, who wrote Out of the Girls Room and into the Night, which is fabulous, you should read it), and got gas. At the gas station I had a very interesting experience, as the old black man in front of me in line could not decide which lottery tickets he wished to purchase, and I was stuck behind him for a good 10 minutes. A guy came in and stood behind me, and when we were both freaking out about waiting in line for so long, I turned around, and saw a very interesting creature. The boy was very clearly of the male persuasion, but there was a ring through his nose, a la a cow, and he was wearing a long tee-shirt over a skirt. And he was flirting with me, which was, all in all, highly interesting. I had a lot of weird experiences today, which I'd like to just slip into my book and forget. Agh. And then of course there was yesterday, which was SAT day. SAT's in Gainesville, GA. It took me over an hour to get there, and it was very very much not fun. What the hell does eschew mean? I have no freaking clue, and I refuse to look it up. Then I drove all the way back to Alpharetta to work until 6:30 with highly irritable customers, proceeded to my neighbors house to babysit until 1 in the morning, and finally made it home, after not having been there since 6 o'clock that morning. I went upstairs straight to bed. I think I'll go read all your blogs now, and read some more. Thank god for the ability to slip into the pages of a book.

Tear drop 9:02 PM of Sarah