All righty, let's see...

I've decided not to go to school. I think this blog highlights all of the misgivings I had about school so I won't go into that now (or again, heh). I've decided instead to just raise money and do some traveling. I'm hoping through traveling, searching deep into the corners of the earth, and meeting some really remarkable people that I'll find where God wants me to be. If He just wants me to travel then so be it. I'll work at Wal Mart for the rest of my life and finance my trips.

I'm hoping once I'm done with my world trip that I'll go to school and then pay back my loans. When that's all said and done I'm hoping to raise money to join the Peace Corp and then again to intern with To Write Love On Her Arms. I saw a TWLOHA speaker at Lifelight this past weekend and it really inspired me. The things that people see are amazing and incredible.

I guess I'm finding my faith again after being pretty shaky. I'm just discovering how much God is really there. This past weekend really helped me out. It was my birthday, actually. Yay for 19. But I went to go see Kutless and Disciple and the Kutless show really reopened my eyes. Last year during Sanctus Real I got this feeling where everything would be alright and I needn't worry, because God was there. This year during Kutless I got that feeling, but it was magnified by about a thousand. As Jon Micah sang Sea of Faces, I got this warm feeling and I just raised my hands in the air and I felt completely serene.

After that I met a girl named Rachel who told me that God would use me to be a refreshing source of faith to others that I met. Honestly, even though she didn't say much or go into depth it helped me. I was feeling really down and out lately and her saying that she felt I had a purpose made me feel better.

I'm also reevaluating all my friends. I feel that some are still taking advantage of me even after I felt that I weeded out the bad friends. It feels as though the girl I've been friends with forever is now only thinking of herself and I come second. Granted, she's pregnant, but I still don't like to be used and trampled on like I don't have feelings or thoughts. And I have another friend who says things to me like she doesn't think before she says it. It seems as if she thinks that anything she says won't effect me so she can unleash any poison at all and it'll be alright.

I'm not giving up these friends. I love them. But I'm thinking God is just trying to tell me to take a little time for myself and think things through more clearly from now on.

I got a job, though. I'm working as a cashier at Wal Mart. I get paid $7.90 by the hour so that's not so bad. I'm trying to pay off my credit card that my dad racked up a huge bill on and then figure out expenses for my trip while still working in costs for CDs and a few concerts, because even though I'm serious about the trip I cannot possibly give up my love of live music for it. And I won't. Even if I have to set the trip back a year, I'm going to Disciple in November and we'll see further on which bands pop into the area.

Later. <3

--Amanda

When I graduated from high school in May I had it all figured out. I was going to go to college 1200 miles away from home, escape the drama and everyday drivel that surrounded my hometown, and become a completely amazing person. I would get a Bachelor's Degree for humanities and then become some amazing literary prodigy (wishful thinking on my behalf as my thoughts have never come together enough to be considered anything more than 'hopeful author'). I would pick up the bass again, find a great band, and be on the cover of all the coolest music magazines. I would do promote my album in between promoting my books.

Every now and then I'd stop in to my beloved hometown and show off the fancy new clothes and my expensive designer glasses. My haircut would be awesome and professionally styled every single day. I would also have a wonderfully delicious looking boyfriend and a ballerina's sparrow-like body frame.

Yep, I had big dreams in May. It's amazing that it all shattered on the day of graduation. It's amazing that one night of throwing away what I had struggled to build in high school would change me so much. After being pathetically sad on grad day about having to move, I'm not. I'm staying put after being denied a loan, because my dad got a little too charge-happy with a credit card that was in my name. After being so iffy about going to school so soon after escaping high school, I no longer have to worry about that.

But now the old worries of people thinking I'm a loser and won't amount to anything are rushing back. My classmates are all going off to higher education (there are four of us not persuing higher education this fall) and I'm stuck at home with my father who doesn't even like me out with my friends after midnight. I can't even get a job, because, Heaven forbid, I'll take off to some foreign place like Philadelphia for a month.

I have an entire year ahead of me and even longer if the feeling in my heart is correct. What I feel is that I won't go to school until I'm twenty one and what will I do within the next three years? Well, there's always traveling and working, of course. I want to get around the US a bit and explore. I want to finish at least one rough draft of a book. I want to find a band. I want to basically do everything I had planned except get a bachelor's degree.

Except I'm afraid. Maybe I should stay home. Be good, stay inside. Maybe one day my so-called friends in my class will actually call me and we'll go out like we'd planned on graduation night while I was slowly pushing myself into oblivion with some illegally acquired drink. Maybe the boy that called himself my best friend will suddenly pick up the phone and realize he doesn't feel as awkward around me as he thought he did after I kissed him and proclaimed my affection. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Or maybe I can grow up and grow a pair and move out of my daddy's house and do what I want in life.

But now that I feel like life has beaten me into the ground by saying no, no, no one too many times this summer, I don't know if I can. Oh woe is me. I have the ability to raise money to do what I want and I don't know if I should use that. What a terrible pickle I'm in.

But how many times do you have to be called stupid, selfish, and worthless to actually become it? How many times do you have to have people telling you the sky's the limit only for them to hold you back before you quit trying? How many times do you have to struggle to do some decent only to have it blow up in your face? And just how many friends do you need to quit calling, quit Facebooking, quit MySpazzing, and quit waving in Wal Mart before you finally get that you're alone?

Well, I'm not sure. I haven't been known to take a hit lying down since sophomore year. I'm a pretty tough bird.

It's just that I don't know if it'd be right for me to stay home to take care of my friend (who is six months pregnant with her first child), help assorted high school friends with homework, and help support my dad and worthless brother with rent with my own measly excuse for a job. OR I could work my ass off for the next few months, pack up my stuff, and actually move to Philadelphia or Portland like I want to and try city life for a bit and maybe put my dreams and ambitions to good use. But I never know if doing what I want is the right thing or just being selfish. Every time I want to do something for me, even staying home on Saturday night, I'm branded selfish and lazy. If I do things for other people then I'm a saint. Why give up sainthood if the alternative is being stoned?

Pff. Lame life.

Jealousy.

Silly teenage drivel. I've been jealous before. Of friends, family members, boys, whatever. It wasn't like this, though. It's over a boy, which is just so silly of me, but I can't help it. I've never been jealous like this.

Freshman year, age 15, was the first time I was in love. The guy was great. Funny, attractive, very smart, he liked to talk about books and drawings and tattoos and music. He was one of the sweetest and nicest people I've met to this day and I still break out in giggles and smiles when I think about him or when I see him. Him being a genuinely great guy has never gone away from my thought process, because he's still my friend. At the time I was falling for him he had a girlfriend. Sure, I was jealous, but I tried to be friends with his girlfriend. I talked to her and went out of my way to be kind. There were times, of course, when being a teenager wholly took over and I made some situations worse than they should have been. I think back on that now and I cringe. No wonder she rejected my advances at being friends. But I wasn't even jealous of her as much as I am of this new girl with this new boy.

I've been friends with Austin since I was six years old. Almost 13 years. In eighth grade we got pretty close after a disasterous situation with my family life. He was one of the only people to treat me like I didn't have a disease and he was there for me. I left that year and came back sophomore year and was welcomed with open arms by him and a few of the other guys. I'm just now getting into good graces with the girls (this is two years after I've returned to my hometown). He even told me that I was one of his best friends and that he cared about me a lot. The next day he followed this up by pushing me into a wall. I love boys and their insecurities. I've been pushed into so many lockers, walls, and people that I've lost count. In almost 13 years, I have never liked him as anything other than a friend. He's always been just there. Someone to fall back on and complain to when people were being stupid.

Last year on the night of prom, we were walking in the hall together and he was teasing me about something or other. We were laughing and having a good time, he even pushed me into a wall. It was just like any other time and any other day. Except as soon as he pushed me when we walked back into the gym, something changed. It was small, but it felt huge. I was laughing after I regained my footing and looked over at him. He was more than just Austin at that moment.

I've liked him for an entire year. I haven't had any problems with the feelings. I keep them to myself. There's no need to air them when I'm moving to Oregon this fall. It would only complicate things. But in January it came out that this girl who used to go to school with us still has feelings for him. This girl is beyond gorgeous and she's thin and she's funny and confident and could care less what people think. I didn't do anything at first. I even encouraged him to talk to her. Then a friend of this girl's asked him to prom for her. I was bitter, to say the least, especially since he was asked to prom by this girl on the same day I was going to ask him to prom. Talk about bad timing.

Then the girl came back for a visit. Suddenly, I didn't exist. Austin looked right through me for the whole day. Even in art, where he sit next to each other, I wasn't there. I wasn't his friend. There were no laughs or jokes or smiles. There was no playful teasing like usual. I was stonewalled. So I left to go sit by Alex on the opposite side of the room. Alex and I were shortly joined by Jake, who I have rattled on about before, because he's just the bestest friend ever.

Austin and I didn't talk for a week after this. I didn't think it had bothered him (actually didn't even think he'd noticed), but on the day we started to talk again I asked him for gum.

Austin: Do you have conversation?
Me: If you have gum.
Austin: *takes gum out* You have to talk to me, then.

Well, last night was prom. I went with some random kid I'd never met. I didn't even see him after grand march. Austin went with this other girl. She was by him the whole night. And he kept as far away from me as humanly possible. If he could have danced on the other side of town he probably would have, but the gym is only so big. I went to sit beside him and his date at the end of the dance and as soon as I sat down and said hello to the girl, he grabbed her hand and left. I stared at the wall for the next ten minutes, absolutely seething. I was joined by my friends Tyler and Jake and their girlfriends. I was the only solo person there. I'd never felt more alone. I continued to stare at the wall until the song ended and the DJ said it was time to go.

High school, right? Only 46 more days to go and then I don't have to worry about being invisible to him as long as she's around. It won't ever matter again. But that's 46 days I have to finally grow a backbone and tell him that he's got to quit treating me like something he can toss away when she's around. I'm supposed to be his friend. I don't like this whole 'being ignored' thing. Especially by a friend. If we're friends, we're friends ALL the time, not just when certain people aren't around. That's so uncool.

Right now I'm facing my bookshelf. Last summer I cleaned it out and threw out all of the books I was never going to read (this included the ENTIRE Babysitter's Club). As I look at it now, I see multiple notebooks from as far back as the first grade and at least 50 magazines dating back to about five years ago.

If you look around our house you will see PILES of books that no one will read again (my dad only will ever read a book once), movies that haven't been touched in over ten years, and papers no one can figure out why we have them. My dad actually brought me a newspaper article dated from 1989 that had no apparent use. Why did he keep it? Because he never felt the need to throw it away.

It's said that baby boomers feel the need collect things or keep things no longer needed, because that was instilled in them from childhood. My dad had a meager childhood and had the basics. I'm not entirely sure if other boomers are like this, but my dad definitely likes to keep things that have no meaning. We have a clown lamp on top of a shelf full of meaningless things that we have never used. None of us even like clowns. Why did he buy it? It was there. Although I am now contemplating the usage of that lamp in a children's room further down the road. If my sister has another child I may pawn it off on her, but her boys would probably break it, the little rough housers that they are.

It's also said that people who experience traumatic events will collect things to help remind them of that particular time period. At age 14, I was taken from my family and put through a series of foster homes. I suffered from severe depression and suicidal tendencies, which I kept to myself and to this day the majority of my family (including my dad and brother) know nothing about this. But at this same age I started keeping magazines, letters, cards, notebooks, loose sheets of paper, bits and pieces of cloth, labels, empty containers, and binders because I couldn't bear to part with them. Every time I put a magazine on my shelf to be with the rest of them I just tell myself I may some day need them. There may be a hairstyle or an article I want to look at for future reference. Do I ever look at them? No. Do I ever go through the notebooks from freshman year? No. Do I ever read the letters or look at the cards? Of course not! But right now I have every shelf and drawer in my room filled with the things that have absolutely no meaning to me. It's ridiculous.

But as I look at them and think about throwing them out, I get a tug in the back of my mind. What if I throw them away and then I do need them? What if I really want to look at that article? What if I really will fit in those jeans I had when I was 14 (and we all know this isn't happening)? What if I decide to wear the ponytail I got from my mom's stuff? What if I want to look back at the pictures I acquired when I was fourteen?

But I won't. And I know I won't. I will never need them or use them again. Ever. I'm just collecting and hoarding and cramping space I could be using for the collection of Harry Potter and Twilight books I seem to keep getting. I'll need room for the notebooks I'm using at this moment. And, currently, my Bible has no home. It just sits on top of a thing of notebooks. I don't like this. I don't like my mess. I hate having my CDs by my bed so I trip over them every morning. I hate looking at the stacks of magazines and the journal I had when I was eight. Who cares who sucked when I was eight years old? Who cares which boy was soooo hot? Nobody. I sure don't care that Jeff Miiller and I played tag at recess together. Not important. And neither is the fact that Simple Plan signed a plate backstage at a concert for Tiger Beat. While I love Simple Plan and the countless posters I have of them are my dedication to that, I can't keep the magazines just because the band happens to be in them.

The first step to getting over anything is to admit there is a problem and I admit there's a problem. I have too many useless things. Too many letters, empty lipstick and chapstick tubes, earrings, broken necklaces, and too many old notebooks and magazines. And I have to throw them away. It's going to be hard, but... I'm going to do this.

And it seems like this project is just one more to elongate my procrastination when it comes to my writing. I am amazing when it comes to procrastinating. I should be a crowned champion. But, then, where would I put my crown?

So, my sister and I have been talking about getting matching tattoos for the LONGEST time. My sister has wanted in Japanese 'my sister, my friend'. I have not. I do not trust Japanese characters and I never had in my head that I would put Japanese writing on my body and SO many people have Japanese characters. And they're wrong.

Well, today my sister took me to a tattoo parlor and we finally got our tattoos. In Japanese. Hers says 'Big Sister' and she put it on her right forearm and mine says 'Little Sister' on my right leg (and they're right. My friend's aunt reads Japanese and gave the ok, haha.). I watched her gets hers and she looked bored. Larry, the artist, may as well have been drawing on her with a marker for all the emotion on my sister's face.

So I slip onto the chair and I'm extremely nervous about it. Two of the other artists came in to have a gander as he was putting the outline on and it made me feel like a baby. When they walked in I was all ready holding my sister's hand and half hyperventilating. I'm really shit for pain. And, at first, it felt like he was carving the skin right off my leg and then it was kind of like angry bees and then it dulled away to a light scratch. When he switched colors, he was drawing on raw skin so it hurt really bad for the first two strokes and then it numbed.

But it was cool and I'm really happy with the end product, even though I didn't want the Japanese to begin with. Larry's a cool guy. He was a friend of my sister's from back in the day so he entertained me with some stories about my mom. She taught him well, apparently. My mom shot her ex-husband in the back of the head, because he abused her and she told Larry, "I shot the motherfucker in the head and I sure as hell didn't kill him, but I fucking wish I had." It taught Larry a lot about marriage. And he still isn't married, but he's got three kids and is committed to their mother. He also was ranting about my brother, who is the biggest idiot in the world. I haven't even talked to him in years and years. Larry said that Ty went behind his back to another tattoo artist to get something done and it made him really angry and the fact that Ty won't take care of his kids and cares more about drugs than them really makes Larry angry.

We were there for about two hours just talking to him and getting the work done. My nephew got his lip pierced, too, which was cool for me to watch. He looked a little bored with that. He bled a lot more than what I did, though. I just had a little dot, but his was bleeding pretty good. He wants more stuff done now, which I don't blame him for. I want my eyebrow double pierced now and got the urge right after I got my snakebites.

Today, a friend of mine had a visitor at school. This visitor previously went to our school and her and I have not gotten a long since about the sixth grade. It wasn't ever an 'I-hate-you' thing, more of a 'who-cares' type of thing.

She visited about three weeks ago, as well. Three weeks ago, I was forced to move out of every seat I had and completely ignored. I had to sit by the boys in math, in the front in government, was left by myself at school over lunch hour, and left completely alone during animations. Today, I thought it could be different. I put forth a little effort to be nice to the girl and what did I get in return? I was forced to move in writing, ignored in English, left alone again over lunch hour, and was forced to move across the room during art.

Yes, I am jealous. I want some attention. I spent the entire day hanging out with myself. During art I had the grace of two of my guy friends, Jake (who I've mentioned before for being an awesome friend) and Alex (a new friend I've made this semester). Another of my guy friends decided he was going to be the world's biggest JERK during art, which is what forced me to move in the first place. He thought he was SO cool being mean to me. The rest of the day he wouldn't even look at me. Every other day we're like best friends, though. Some friend. Some friend they all are. Jake and Alex have got my side, but what about the others that are supposedly my "best friends"? What is that? That is the art of high school, ladies and gentleman. And high school is a cold place for people who don't like to make conversation with themselves.

But, seriously, that is crap that they ALL ignored me. Austin, the jerk in art, then thought it would be funny to call me a bitch and proceed to spit his gum out on my truck. Oho, he is hilarious. And two-faced. And so completely in my bad books right now. He was very rude today. Even moreso than what he usually is.

Anywho, enough of this 'oh-woe-is-me' stuff and onto the good stuff. I got a call from my sister the other day saying that my aunt was going to visit her. She then asked if I would come with, because she'd found a guy to do our tattoos for a cheap price. Lo and behold, this guy is a friend of my mother's and he hasn't seen me in sixteen years. He was quite surprised when Shilo told him that I was all ready eighteen. How time flies. She also told me this guy is one of the best in the city so I shall put my trust in a family friend for the occasion. Anything for my sister.

Except Japanese. She wants "Sister, Friend" written in Japanese. I, however, do not. Larry may be a great guy and a marvelous tattoo artist, but I will not let that man put a Japanese symbol on my body. I couldn't bare going to Japan and a person seeing it and laughing over how it says 'dead cat' instead of 'Sister, Friend'. I want to convince Shilo to instead do a heart with a rose stabbed through it with 'My sister, my friend' written on the face of the heart in ENGLISH. And I think it would be better, since the rose was our mother's favorite flower and the heart would show that we're close family. I'll try to persuade her, because I just don't think doing a Japanese symbol would be intelligent. And, despite them looking cool, I don't think I would like seeing that scrawled on my leg forever.

And I still can't believe I'm getting a tattoo this weekend! It is so cool! I love tattoos and they are one thing I can never get enough of. Piercings can reach a sickening level, but a person's whole body could be tattooed and I would love it.

I was talking to a friend today and we got on the topic of a mutual friends of ours. I was telling her how our mutual friend had badmouthed her during their freshman and sophomore years, but she's been doing better lately. The friend I was talking with put out bluntly, "I don't like her at all."

I just stood there. It felt like the ground shook when she said that. She is one of the most accepting people I know. She is always smiling or laughing. She befriends the weirdos no one else goes up to and she just LOVES people. I both love and hate that about her, so when she told me this I was just sent for a spin.

By the end of the day, she came up to me and said, "I don't think I'm going to talk to her anymore. She's saying this stuff behind my back so she isn't a good friend, obviously."

I was just thoroughly confused how a few things from a year or two ago could impact her so much when she is how she is, but I guess it showed me a different side of her I hadn't ever witnessed. She's human like everyone else and she can get angry and feel betrayed.

They say you regret the things you never did more than the things you did and I think that is SO true. I look back and I can see all of the dumb conversations I've had, because I let my tongue get too far ahead of my brain and I can see me screaming at the top of my lungs on a crowded main street during midway, but I don't regret it. I get embarrassed when I think about certain things, but I don't regret them. I regret not saying things or NOT screaming at the top of my lungs on crowded streets.

I just know that I will never regret DOING something. I don't regret stepping out of my introverted shell to talk to people or to make appointments or to pay things or to help people out. I feel awkward and a little silly, but after it's all said and done I feel so much better.

Lately, I've been laughing at the top of my lungs when people say something funny. I have the dumbest laugh and I sound so much like my sister. I hate my laugh, but I think I'd regret always stifling it. I can't believe I've been so quiet for so long. That's what I regret. For being so quiet through my days when I could have been having fun with my classmates.

I had to do a project with this boy that I don't talk to on a regular basis. I was happy that I got a boy that would DO something and not just sit there, but we didn't really have a good communication established. After the project, which we both researched and highlighted and added things in, he came up to me and started talking to me about it. I was smiling and nodding and saying how good we worked together and he was agreeing and laughing. If I had just nodded and went back to reading, I would have run that through my head a million times and chastised myself. But I got into the conversation. It was a little awkward, since we aren't the best of friends, but it was good and it went well. I don't regret talking to him. I don't regret finally being myself around him, if only just a little bit.

I say everyone should do that. If you're cripplingly shy, like myself, I say you should try to go out of your way to talk to someone new. Or do something. I can barely make doctor's appointments by myself so if you have trouble with that, go for it. Make an appointment. Smile at someone new in the hallway. Talk to a teacher! Be more you to the people that don't get to see that. I guarantee you won't regret it!

Prom is rearing its ugly head in Mt. Vernon and I have just become the owner of a purple dress with spaghetti strap ties on the back. The problem is that if I tighten the straps my fat oozes out the sides of the dress. Yes, I could get a bigger dress or let it out, but this dress was FREE and from a friend. I couldn't harm her sister's dress. It's such a gorgeous dress. So now I must shrink to fit it. The one problem with that is my boobs will be EVEN SMALLER in the gown and I can only tie it so tight so that that won't be a huge problem at the dance.

Anyways, my teenage body image problems are going to be fixed. I was going to start losing weight for college this fall anyway, so I might as well start now. The original plan was that I wouldn't even go to prom, but the dress beckoned me.

So tomorrow I am starting my diet/excercise regime. I haven't run in awhile so that's gonna be a sore thing. My hips are going to be killing me, but it'll help my back so I'm still all right with it. Anyways I will be running about 1/4 of a mile tomorrow and then I will walk the rest of that. I will also be cutting out my "bad foods". The cookies, the chips, the candies, the sodas. I don't really intake any of that anyway, but I did bake cookies together so I'm going to have to stay away from them. And the cinnamon chips I love to munch on so much.

My problem is really determination. I fizzle after a bit and then eat whatever I want and start going lax with my excercise. It happened last year, but this year I'm really going to strive for it not to happen again. I want to lose weight and be happy. I don't want to be a rail, but I want to be a normal and healthy weight for my height. Which means I need to lose at least 70 pounds for that to happen and if I lose 80, I'll still be happy. But I want to at least be able to give blood so 70 pounds is my goal by this September. Which, according to The Daily Plate, is completely doable. Just need faith.

I would choose not to live forever. I had this conversation with my friend after we went to the Twilight movie and I just couldn't do it. I said that I couldn't bear watching all of my friends and family die while I lived on. It would hurt too much to lose the ones I loved so much. She said that she could and it wouldn't bother her to lose her friends and family, but that she'd never lost someone before.

I've all ready lost a handful of people close to me that have shaped me through everything and have helped mold me into who I've become. To lose my brothers and my sister, my dad, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my nephews and nieces, and all of my friends would be so hard for me. If I walked on while they all died, I fear that I would become an extremely bitter person. The death of my cousin has left me extremely angry and more than a little bit lost. If everyone were to die, where would I go? What would I do?

True, I'd have more time to do the things that I wanted, but what importance would they really be without those that I planned to enjoy those times with? And after awhile the bands I enjoyed would perish as well and I would be left without anything that I'd really held onto.

Even a hundred extra years would seem too much for me. I think the perfect age for me to would be about 80 years old. I will have seen and done things and lived a moderately good life. I will have graduated from college and will hopefully use my degree. I hope to be a missionary and travel the world and raise money to help South Dakota and my hometown out. God knows we could use better schools and roads. I hope to be married and have children and I hope to live to see my grandchildren. I want to write a book and play in a band and see my favorite bands perform. By 80 all of that should be accomplished. If not, I'll just have to try to live until I'm 81. =]