LiveJournal, my old nemesis, we meet again!

I have not written in a while. Two slaps on the wrist for me. It's not as if I didn't have time during break. I had enough time to buy close to a dozen postcards, fill them out, and send them. Many seem to have since gotten lost. I wonder what happened to them. I know Goo and Betsy received them. Well, who else in the world matters but Goo and Betsy, anyway, right?So many people felt the need to complain today, that I jumped right on the bandwagon. Whenever someone said that they hurt, in any place on their body, I was honestly able to agree, and launch into detail. Whenever anyone said they were tired, I agreed, and proceded to vent. Whenever anyone said that they were confused by the human race, I, again, was able to empathize, and complete the rant with my own personal touch of frustration. I have some sort of gift. It's a highly marketable skill.I almost fell off the platform during rehearsal on multiple occassions. Given the lack of supports on that platform, it is a death trap: a law suit just waiting to happen. Maybe Robin will take pity on me while I'm getting stitched up at the hospital, and not require me to do nearly as much work for Social and Political Theater. It's a decent amount for a class, but considering that she knows I'm there every night late for the musical, she's insane. Purebred insanity!I had a long talk with myself last night. Yes, did I mention that I'm crazy? I sort out so many problems talking to myself. I know the motives behind so many of my flaws (and believe me, there are a LOT), and I need to take it to the next level: actually remedying the situations. I wish I had more strength. People tell me I'm strong, but what of it. So I can take pain with a good dose of cynicism and a smile. Great. What am I learning?You can only rely on people to be themselves, whatever is in their nature.Lately, I've been pondering more about suing the school system. My old public school, that is. I wish I had more solid proof, because as of right now, it's my word against theirs. I didn't document anything. I wish I did. I want to take an action, to tell them that what happened to me was horrible, and I don't want it to happen to anyone else. The major obstacle is that I'm not quite sure what happened. That made sense. I'm still trying to distinguish from reality... and... well, I couldn't have made it up, but I managed to convince myself a long time ago that I did. They told me I did. Every day it haunts me. I try and go to sleep, and I see them circling around me, and it feels like knives are sinking in. I'd like to think of myself as a happy person, as a whole, but then there are times that I want to scream. I want to scream and wipe away their burning spit, and their sharp kicks, and their blunt fists, and their caustic words, and heal my bruises and broken bones, and it all swirls together.... and I want to scream so that the whole world can hear me. "Come on, guys... she's obviously making it up." Why would they walk out on me? Instead, I smile. I smile because I didn't succumb, because I made it out alive. So I've proved to myself that I can handle it, but I have not influenced anyone else. My plight has not caused any inspiration. It is silent, fallen on deaf ears. I want to bury the pain forever, but there's something inside me that won't let me dig the grave. Something keeps it at the surface.She could have helped me find out the root of this "something."I miss her so much. She still had so much she could have taught me. Yes, well, while I'm ranting about public school, I might as well talk about my mother, again. I watched the HBO broadcast of "W;t" last week, about a woman with terminal stage 4 ovarian cancer. I can't remember the last time I cried through a movie. It was all real, and then it came so fast. Cease treatment. Wheelchair. Hospice. Morphine. DNR.She held me so tight that evening, and gently kissed me, thereby consuming all of the energy she had left. I never wanted to leave.My mind is brimming full of vivid images, without the words to articulate them.I sat in my room last night, for hours, and played bad new age music. I'm not a fan, but it was something we played while my mother was in a coma. She used to listen to piano solos, that sort of thing. My aunt suggested that we play my mother some music while she was in a coma, so we turned on the stereo... and Faur?'s Requium played. Watching someone die is, to say the least, painful enough, without the need for requiums, so we switched over to some optimstic "follow the sacred path" new age piano solos. Some of it is actually beautiful. Perhaps I just think that because it was hers.I have a thousand thoughts all jumbled in my head, and no medium for which to extract them.I want to help people, to help them overcome adversity. Perhaps that seems overly ambitious, or that I have no real experience, but I want to be able to do what my mother did. To have the dicipline and dedication to first work on her own imperfections, and then help others. Perhaps that is why I hang out with small children so often (my kids!). They are young and impressionable, and I'm able to help them grow into wonderful people. My three-year-olds don't have a great deal of adversity to deal with, but perhaps I can branch out into other groups. Adversity... that's going to be my big college campaign: while the rest of your three-sport senior class presidents were busy perfecting their 3-minute mile, I was overcoming adversity. I stuck with my education through horrible times, so bad that I was faced with no other option but to leave, through illness, of my own and of my mother's, and losing my best friend and hero... it's a movie-of-the-week sort of story - it starts out with lush benefits and the fanastic life of the middle and upper-middle class, falling apart on one day. Two, actually. I can pinpoint the dates: 15 October, 1997, and 5 February, 1998. The 15th of October wasn't too terrible, but it certainly changed my life, and the 5th in an even more negative way, or positive, as the case may be. I could have suffered through years of indifference and impartiality, but instead, through the "good fortune" of abuse, I was granted leave to go to a better place, where I for the first time since 3rd grade found friends who truly cared about me, and who stuck by me. It's a warring decision, whether all the pain and permanent scarring was worth it, but I think, ultimately, it was.I was busy learning about life.Now, I have to convince myself that it's the college's loss when they reject me. "Yeah, you and your adversity. Who cares about what you struggled with, when I can have the 4.0 student from New York with a huge list of credentials." It's much easier to achieve when you don't have such monumental obstacles in your way, but lots I can do about it now. It's not as if I have an inner-city minority kid story. Those sorts of stories they accept - mine is much more along the vein of "poor little rich girl." Oy.Tomorrow, I am going to put aside my masks, and be myself. It was something I was commended for at public school -- being myself. It's something that I still do, but too often, I hide behind a facade of cynicism. I AM NOT AFRAID TO LIVE. I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE. So, then, what am I afraid of?~JennSo much for coherency. Another one of my infamous LiveNovel rants. Well, tomorrow is a new day!

The state of being vapid.

I have just completed the first leg of a vicious cycle. I went from bitter (mainly due to having to deal with short-tempered people), to extremely emotional [crying my entire commute home], to vapid. I'm currently in the vapid state. I can't hear a thing, thanks to my most blessed ear infection, and I'm trying to think of all the things Rachel Hirsch (who told me that she may be my Capstone advisor) would do to me tomorrow should I not be in C-block for my presentation. It all depends on when I'm able to book my doctor's appointment. I'm going to catch this thing early. Last time I waited until a fever of 102, causing me to miss a day of school. [I was craftily able to convince my father to let me attend school with a temp. of 100?. See what I go through just to be with you people? And you complain about the most mundane things. The world is not ending!]So I'm vapid. Vapid as a public school kid. It's rather disconcerting, actually. I'm trying to think of something amusing to say, but nothing comes to mind. I miss my little brother, who is away on a school trip in DC at the moment. I went in to say goodnight to him, and his bed was empty... the sight of empty beds scare me. I'm quite serious. Startling memories.I finished up all of my prints for photo today. I realized that all but one of my photos have children in them. When I grow up, I want to be four-years-old. I met a four-year-old at Bertucci's this evening. He came up to me, clutching a sacred fist-full of dough in one hand, telling me about how soft it was, and how fun it was to play with. His disillusioned mother than stole him away, muttering, "don't talk to those girls," adding a resentful "He's just four-years-old!" to me. He wasn't bothering me, he was adorable.And I'm vapid.Goo, this isn't working.~Jenn

Clearly, some philosophies are not for all people.

SALLY:Someone once said that we should live each day as if it is the last day of our life.LUCY:Ahhh! This is the last day! I only have twenty-four hours left! Help me! Help me! This is the last day! Ahhhhhh!SALLY:Clearly, some philosophies are not for all people.AND THAT'S MY NEW PHILOSOPHY!I love "...Charlie Brown," and that quote seemed particularly appropriate today. People are forecasting armageddon.Provided that the world does not end by Thursday evening, Katy, Olivia and I plan to attend the gala opening of the Winchester High School's production of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," a murder mystery musical the high school never should have thought about attempting. Ever. At the summation of Act II, the audience votes for which ending they want. We're going to find out which ending they haven't rehearsed thoroughly, and create a campaign to vote for that ending. We are going to wreck havoc! Anyone else care to join in the mischief?I love four-day weekends. I love five-day weekends even more. Let's all hope that Greg has some sense left in him -- our collective fate is in his hands.Olivia and I are excessively using the Altavista Translation function. We are translating from English to German, from German to French, and from French to English. I wrote "Olivia is a silly bug," and it came out "Is Olivia an error of program stupid?" Intersting -- particularly since the original input was not a quesition.I'm hosting a "Jekyll & Hyde Maddess" party on the 10th. Conveniently, during Dance Concert. "Jekyll & Hyde" (starring David Hasselhoff) is premiering on PPV, and it's something that is so horrificly bad, you can't watch on your own, you'd be too traumatized. I now have full evening plans for this week -- backups in case the world does not end. I feel so popular and loved.And that's my new philosophy!~Jenn

Two Midnights Gone

I slept until 2:15 this afternoon -- 14 or 15 glorious hours of sleep. I slept right past 2pm, when Goo was supposed to come over. The plans were swiftly cancelled, due to an irresponsible water heater repair man. Do those sorts of blue-collar workers have an official job title, or just "Water Heater Repair Man." I'd want to be in the vein of "Home Appliance Engineer." Is a water heater ever classified as an appliance? I asked my father, and we were unable to arrive at a definite answer.Goo - my father would love to meet "the girl behind the cheese fondue." He is determined that it is destiny that you can never come over when he's home. (He'll be out at a hockey game tomorrow -- we'll talk more later)I am exceedingly happy to have a three-day weekend. For one thing, it allowed me to get a decent amount of sleep. When I got home last night, I could barely walk, it hurt so much. First thing that happens when I walk in the door: my father walks up to me, and says, "JENN! Just the person I was looking for! I have about twenty presents for you to wrap, if you'd like to come upstairs." Up? Stairs? Just try.I wrapped the presents. I'm such a sucker.We hired Danielle, and she has accepted. She starts Monday! Here's hoping this works out better than the Joanne mess. I do like Danielle more than I did Joanne -- no original reservations, such as an annoying laugh and overbearing presence. I did make a fool of myself on the phone today. I had awoked approximately 30 seconds earlier, and picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be Goo. I just started talking... Danielle then asked, "May I please speak with Jim?" I thought she said *Jenn*, so I proceded to act even more foolishly. Finally I caught on that this was not Goo, in fact, and handed the phone over to my Dad. I apologized, and she just laughed, saying that she has done the same thing so many times. She's not much older than I am. It's the same difference, in age, between me and Danielle that lies between me and my sister. I think it's going to work out well.Speaking of my sister, I have to pick her up in 3 minutes. It's her birthday today, so I promised. I would have done it anyway, but it was impossible to resist her pouting face, with her wide eyes. I have a crafty little sister. I hate self-imposed censorship. That comment was not random, either.I saw a license plate that said "DIVAS" yesterday. I was estatic. I called my friend Beth, my fellow Diva, while I was wrapping gifts for my sister. Beth and I created our own musical: "DIVAS, the Musical." It's going to be a hit. I'll dig up the 31 page document describing the megamusical, entitled "The Diva Chronicles." I don't think I've ever laughed more hysterically.Tomorrow, at work day, I have to teach Anna (the girl that I used to refer to as my understudy) the musical score of "Once Upon a Mattress." Can this girl not read music properly? Every single year, I get the E role. I have to sing an e throughout the entire show. E, E, E, E, E. Last year, my E was an octave lower, but an E nonetheless. Maybe next year I'll get a D role, although my favorite note to sing is an A or a B flat.I can't think of what else to write -- I'm sure it will strike me while I'm in the car. I get the best ideas whilest driving, and promptly forget them upon shifting into park. I hate that. Well, my sister is probably waiting for me at this point.~Jenn

Another Sunday In The Park With George

I got home at 10:45pm -- and my father didn't care. He apparantly does not remember that my rehearsal got out at 8pm, nor did he question what I was doing between the hours of 8pm and 10:25pm. I'm glad I didn't prepare an elaborate excuse, it's always such a shame to concoct one, and never use it.After rehearsal, I was on the verge of another crash, and in much need of a break. All that being chased around by Bascom was enough to make anyone exhausted. Just ask Amalia, who complained freely. Out of frustration, I ended up explaining that I have CFIDS to her -- explain may have a slightly more generous connotation. I wasn't particularly nice. At any rate, this got *zero* reaction from Amalia, but sympathetic eyebrow raises from Bascom. Life is all about reactions.As I was walking back to my car, I saw Spencer sitting in the French room. As I hadn't spoken to him in quite a while, I decided to knock on the door and say hello. "Hello" morphed into two and a half hour conversation. Funny how times flies, not to mention that he was supposed to be back in his dorm by 10. I can barely remember what we talked about now. It wasn't smalltalk, but it wasn't anything deeply intellectual, either. We kvetched about Lyuda (whom I dislike greatly), and discussed the amusement factor behind whale-watching tourists in Newburyport. Spencer does not have the "typical" Freshman attitude (epitomized by, say, Lyuda). I find it amazingly refreshing to be around Freshman that don't make me cringe.I declared war on Toby this morning, although submitted my message proclaiming surrender this afternoon. It was a bloodless, shortlived war, that lacked even wit. Rachel Hirsch would flunk me for less than that [in Civil War]. Well, 'twas amusing while it lasted.I plan on raiding my brother's room tomorrow morning, to find a hat. I wore Morgan's hat throughout rehearsal this evening, and was reminded of how much I enjoy wearing hats. I used to wear hats constantly -- I had the worst hat-hair imaginable, not quite as extreme as my sister's. Me thinks one of his Bruins hats shall suffice.Dinner at Bertucci's was... interesting. Jacquie, Amy, Joel, Morgan, Evan, and I attended the gala event. I drove Evan solo the way there, a rather awkward venture, so I claimed Amy, Joel, and Morgan for the ride back. The majority of our dinner conversation shifted toward the gutter-whore nature of Amy. Honestly, Amy, nobody expects it within you, it comes as such a shock. I'll see if I can recover that letter you wrote me about David Hyson.Tomorrow feels like the last day of the mod. I wish! Two and a half more weeks to go, and I have much work to complete. I have a presentation in Latin American History tomorrow, etc., etc., etc. Greta and I have a creative plan. We are attempting to show up Lexy, but crazy rehearsal schedules make it difficult. She had to rehearse Pocket Players all through lunch, and I had rehearsal for "Once Upon a Mattress" all afternoon and evening. Convenient, really. Still, we came up with a decent battle plan. Greta talks! It is a miracle!I also have many adventurous plans for the weekend. Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I have a singular adventuruous plan for the weekend. I'm thinking about.. maybe... sleeping. I might leave the house, too. Friday is Caroline's birthday - she's hitting double digits. My, they grow up so quickly.I'm not making sense anymore. I took some pills to try and "make things better," but that always ends up in disaster. *sigh* Maybe tomorrow things will be better.~Jenn

High Beams and Jail Terms

I was inaugurated into the world of driving today. I had just got off Route 2, near Wilson's farms, when a car in the opposite direction flashed their high beams. At first I was slightly confused -- it had been a long day, and my vision was blurry, anyway, thanks to another fun CFIDS crash over the weekend. Of course, I then realized that it was the secret code for POLICE AHEAD. Very secret, indeed. I was going the speed limit, but surely it wouldn't hurt to slow down a few mph. Lo and behold, there was a policeman just around the bend. What a wonderful code. Yes, I've put thousands of miles on my car, and nobody has ever done that for me. Needless to say, I was a little too thrilled to return the favor after passing the policeman. Is it not twisted that I'm still thrilled?My father completed his stint as Jury foreman today, and I was able to hear all about the court case. I had hoped it would be more interesting. Me and my high expectations.Katy and I had an impromptu dinner at Bertucci's. She had to stay at school for SAT prep, and I didn't feel up to driving home quite yet. So what do I do? I endanger not only my own life by going to Bertucci's, but also Katy's -- not, however, before we left another cryptic message. Update: I have been apprehended, revealed my accomplices, and legal proceedings shall be performed herein. I can only hope that my father will receive the opportunity to reprise his role as moral and just foreman. I shall strike again... ~JennP.S. Morgan, look how short these entries have been!

Practically Perfect in Every Way

We just finished up two nanny interviews. It's so draining, emotionally, physically. The two potential nannies today were nice. Quite the adjective, eh? What I really want is a Mary Poppins. Who wouldn't love to have Julie Andrews as their nanny? I've always had an affection for singing nannies who are practically perfect in every way. "If you want this choice position, have a cheering disposition..."Ali, the first of the nannies in question (and is it just me, or does the plural "nannies" look strange?), was pleasant, although reminded me of a Winchesteresque cheerleader. She wore Abecrombie. Bad sign. My father had not prepped questions for the interview, so for the majority of the time, the five of us sat there in silence. She left earlier than planned, and we said that we'll call her.Susan, the second prospective nanny, I liked quite a bit more. She brought along her two children, Sarah (age 10) and Stephen (age 12). We had a delightful conversation (yes, you read that correctly -- DELIGHTFUL!), about things ranging from homeschooling to how everyone in her family is born on the same day as the presidents on Mount Rushmore. It would have been a little complicated orchestrating the schedule, and also having the two kids "work" for us, too. I liked Danielle better, but I still feel slight remorse for not hiring those kids. Can you imagine, at age 10, having to go to job interviews, and being rejected? Great way to build self-esteem.So, it looks like Danielle shall be our new nanny shortly -- not Mary Poppins, to my chagrin.I have been updating this darn livejournal too frequently. I need to stop.~Jenn