Game Over, Cont.

Whoa, even more days have passed, so I've got even more to forget. I'll try my best to remember. There's so much to catch up on! Practically every day has been packed with so much to do. It was stressful at a point, but I've gotten over it by now. Now, let's continue. I'm going to try and make it more visual this type, like a story. I need to brush up on my writing skills so that I can start to fill up the Read section of the website. Moving along...

Thursday, June 2nd (Cont.)

One by one we stepped out of the limo, donned in our pretty dresses in soft hues of yellow, blue, and pink as we lightly grasped the hands of our dates. I seriously have a thing for guys with soft hands. I think I've somehow got this idea that they traditionally don't have soft hands. Anyway, we stepped into the hotel, beautifully decorated with plush carpets, chandeliers, and a staircase that spiraled up to the second floor, where we would find our table. I was grateful for it being away from the music being played downstairs, a notion which has often rendered complaints amongst the more talkative kids. But at least up stairs, we could hear ourselves.

After taking a few pictures with teachers, faculty, and the like, we finally headed upstairs to our table. By now my feet were already hurting, and I had only been standing in my heels for maybe 20 minutes. I am so not a girly girl. As we were preparing to sit down, I turned around and saw someone I hadn't since freshman year.

Joe, Joe, Joe. I think that's his name, anyway. With time, I've forgotten. It was so good to see him again. I remember my time with him like yesterday. It was in the library when I met him, freshman year. We were all working on a project, and I was walking around with my usual grim face, frown, frown, frown. Then he randomly comes up to me and says, "Wanna be my friend?" It was so peculiar to me that some random sk8r boi wanted to be my friend. Not that I knew what that was back then. After all, I was just coming in from the city, and it was my first time being exposed to one, so many white folks at once, and two, the punk/skater/rocker kind of kid. His spiked hair just invigorated my curiosity and willingness to learn more about the suburban culture. So I was like, "Ok, sure, whatever, I'll be your friend." I was thinking he was up to something. I quickly learned that such was not the case. He was just as curious about me as I was about him. I remember during the dawdling minutes of our English class with Mr. Bean, he'd ask me all these random questions like, "Are there gangs in your neighborhood? Do people get shot?" among other things. What I found odd is that he was actually familiar with gang signs and he could form the word "Blood" with his fingers, as would a member of the said gang. He once asked to touch my hair and when I allowed him to, he was sent into a fit of giggles so hard, his face turned red. It was then I realized he was cute. But by the end of freshman year, I was to learn that I would never see him at SHHS again. He signed my "Autograph" book with something about fire safety (I was comfortable enough with him to have told him about a recent disaster) and went on his way that final day of 9th grade. A couple years later, Junior year I believe, I saw him again at a football game. He didn't seem as willing to talk to me, as he was preoccupied with another conversation at the moment, so I backed off before I could have my feelings hurt.

Seeing him at prom was great, a bit of closure for me. We took a picture together, (I may link to it later) reminisced a bit, and went our separate ways for the night. We weren't too far though, because his table was behind mine. All I needed was one last time.

Dinner, I didn't like. In fact, I wound up giving most of it to either my date, or my friend. It was around this time that I found out that my best friend was dating one of the guys in our circle. I felt a minimal pang of envy, partially because I was the last to know, and even less because I too though the boy was adorable, but I really didn't care at the end of the night. When we were done with eating, taking more pictures, and conversation, we eventually went downstairs to the dance floor. Oh mercy me. My date (I'm withholding names for a reason I'm not sure of at the moment) grabbed a hold of my hips and was like, c'mon, the rest of my friends trying to convince me as well. I found every excuse to get out of it though. I am such a loser. I did eventually SORT of dance with him. I at one point told him I'd slow dance with him, and he grabbed me kind of suddenly, which kind of startled me. It was kinda hot though. I pulled away, as I always do, and said, ok, later. We sorta did dance eventually, but not to the fullest. And all that grinding crap, which I know was on his mind, especially seeing as to how he is in to hip hop, was making me kind of sick. There had been more this year than at the Junior prom, which I found odd. I kinda regret not taking advantage of him being there. I don't mean that in that way either. But yea, I am a party pooper.

We left the prom early and headed to my best friends house to undress for bed/the After Prom. We made a WaWa run for some junk and went on our way.

Ok you know, I don't think these long entries are so good for me. My wrist is starting to hurt in the CTS (Carpal Tunnel Syndrome) zone and I need to take a break. So once again, to be continued!

Game Over

Within a couple of days, I will finally make my ascent from what has up until the end of last year, has been hell. It's funny I use this analogy, because as of late, it seems Jesus has been out to get me. I'll explain that through the course of this entry.

After what has so far been a very busy and eventful June, I am somewhat staggering with the choice to either look forward to or to dread the coming of the end of high school, and what feels like, the end of my adolescence. I have so much ahead of me, and yet I am so afraid of leaving what is quickly starting to trail behind me. Ultimately, I can't help but look forward with excitement and anticipation. I thus far have the life my parents always wanted laid right out in front of me, the college road, a pathway to success. But it's the friendships I've formed, a few of which have both been weakening and strengthening, that keep me keep me looking to the past, wishing I had done so much more with my social (and to an extent my academic) life.

I'm sure I share many of the same regrets with some of the most successful people of this day and age have probably held in their past, and that never stopped them from getting to where they are. So why am I so afraid?

I'm done with the nostalgic stuff for now. Let's hear about what's happened so far, in this June of my Senior year.

Wednesday, June 1st

There is plenty which has taken place before this day, but I have been so unenthusiastic about blogging, that such events have passed from my mind for the lack of having written them down.

I remember very little about this day, except for it being the sunniest in a while. It was by this time that I'd finally decided that I would be attending the Senior Ball without a date. Of course, I didn't feel very secure about it, especially considering the fact that I'd been fortunate enough to have gone with a date the previous year. After a short phone call and a trip to the flower shop, however, I was going to have a bit of a change of plans.

So a friend of mine calls me up this day, last minute, the day before prom, and asks if I'd like to go with him. I was hesitant for a moment. I felt kind of odd that he'd even ask me. What was I to think of this? Was I just a backup because he hadn't mustered up the courage to ask the "hot underclassmen" to go with him? Then there were the superficial sort of things that came to mind, like, "Isn't he kind of short to be going with?" and "What will people think with you having gone to the prom with two Asian males in a row?" I already was starting to develop that kind of liking towards him, as described in a previous entry, so why not just say yes? With my tendency to overanalyze things, I have ruined a lot. So this time, I just shook my thoughts from my head and told him yes. As a member of our friendship group, I was going to wind up being within his presence the whole night anyway, so it wasn't going to be that a big a deal, right?

I could tell by the uncertainty in his voice that he wasn't sure I'd say yes. He appologized for the short notice, but I shrugged it off willingly. Shortly, after a struggle in finding my hidden driveway, he came to pick me up, and we went to the flower shop in town to order the boutonniere (that word is hella hard to spell) and corsage. It was odd getting in his car that first time, especially considering what was to come.

Thursday, June 2nd

The big day had arrived. Obtaining an early dismissal slip, my best friend and I left school to take a nap before heading to the salon, another beautiful day in our midst. I was rudely awakened (as per usual) by my roommate and her professional stylist friends, but it was ok, because it was by that time that I had to get up anyway. Switching into a button down shirt (to avoid the hassle of possibly ruining my hair by having to pull a shirt over my head as is what happened last year), I ran down the stairs and into the speedy car of an adult friend of my best friend. We drove to the local Hair Cuttlery and the beautifying began. My hair was freshly washed and straightened by my mother, so the up-do I chose was rather simple to complete. The hair dresser finished my do before my best friend's which certainly hadn't been the case last year, when my hair was in much worse of a state, and we went to a store next dore for a milkshake, meeting up with a school friend. Hmm... that reminds me that I have to be reimbursed for my hair. Finally our ride arrived and we went on to the next stages of beautification.

With much less time than I'd expected, I hurriedly dressed in my pale yellow prom dress, eventually asking my roomie's "personal stylist" friend to do makeup. I thought it was a bit too intense at first, but that was just my insecurity talking. I don't usually wear makeup except for occasions so formal as this, especially considering I start quaking before anyone can get a bent finger, mascara brush in hand, near my eye. I must learn to apply makeup myself this summer, if it's the last thing I do. It can be a cute little mother-daughter event. We don't do enough of such things.

Fleeing downstairs to greet the paparazzi, I finally came out of the bat cave which is my room, donning my sunny disguise. Having so much attention at once tends to make me very nervous, and I am often prone to leave things. I don't like taking pictures, as with nearly ever girl out there, I've got my insecurites.

Once pretty much everyone was done with their gawking, I hopped in a car to head to my best friend's house, for once in my life, on time. My date greeted me with a smile and "You lookin' nice," the silly boy with his urban accent, which at that moment, I thought came only from a little too much of listening to "Fitty Cent." Given time, there was much to learn about the boy.

After a photo op on my best friend's lawn, we all hopped in a limo headed towards the Hotel Dupont in Wilmington, Delaware. There was a bit of a delay, as we had a few issues concerning payment and the contract, but in the end, we'd arrive on time.

What's it like in a limo? Well... seeing as to how it's just another car to me, it's difficult for me to describe it in the extravagant light it is often portrayed in. I mean it's just a goddamn fancy car with a CD changer, a DVD, and pretty glowing lights on the inside, hidden from view by tinted windows. Sure, it's nice to say I've been in one, but its main purpose was to go from Point A to B, which it did. I don't think the stretchy, sleek white car was worth such a small task, but it's the cool thing to do, so EGH.

What's the matter? I don't sound excited about it at all now, do I? Believe me you, I was, at the time. But with so many days gone past, that feeling of euphoria is now a fleeting memory. I think I ought to go to bed now, however. It's already taken me over an hour to write what you've read thus far. Hopefully in the morning, I won't feel as dead inside as I do right now. I don't know whether this feeling is the result of fatigue or the thundercloud that's been hovering in and out of view for the past two days. I don't know what's wrong with me right now, actually. I had a breakdown today, spurred on by a number of things, but that, is to be written about later. Hasta mañana mis amigos.