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Manal and I kind of gave up on badminton after a while and sat out in my trunk. It's weird how much you get to talking about when judgement is cast aside and people honestly try to understand and accept. I guess it's easier when you're on the same page.

See, Manal is Muslim. And you'd think that religion talks would be like her speaking Spanish and I French, with such a big difference, but I've found that religion talks don't really concern the specifics (at least, not the types I get most involved in).

It's more like...talking about how close or far away we feel from faith or religion. Talking about what we want to understand, and what we don't, and what we do. What we want to do about ourselves. Things like that.

I don't know. I don't bother to question all that's going on. I figure I can only live for so long. We'll see, is what I say. So we talk about what we can do with the time we do have.

That's where I'm most comfortable. Talking about the future, and how I'm going to spend my life.

I'm going to take my career and get jobs wherever I want, because that's the nice part about a job that can move with you. I'm going to learn languages like Cleopatra (she learned nine or ten), and I'm going to be physically fit. Everything else...that's up in the air.

Although I do know that I want a tiny wedding. Like, make my own cake, sew my own dress, groom wears a button down shirt and jeans type of tiny. Those wedding shows are only fun to watch because it solidifies what I don't want.

I'd rather concentrate on the actual marriage.


What I'm saying is that I think people concentrate on the details a lot when there's a great deal to learn from the whole picture.


My mom says I should go for the biochemistry/mathematics double major.

I'd always intended to, anyway.




Oh, and I picked up the glasses. :3

It's too late to take a photo, though.

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AS USUAL, SILLY.


Divorce is moving along slowly, blah blah blah.

I'm at peace with it. It's just that my parents are driving me nuts, constantly coming to me. And even that wouldn't drive me that nuts, except they don't know how crazy they sound. And of course no one could make them realize that.

Meh, not my problem. I shall worry about myself and only get into it when they start trying to slander one another. Of course, then I just make them feel guilty about trying to do that.

And stupid for trying to do it to their eighteen-year-old daughter.

I think they think I'm still six, and that I would still believe it.

Mais nay. I am grown. And while that doesn't mean a lot, it does mean that I have a wider sense of perspective and perception.

Anyway!

I ordered some new glasses. You'll see them on me when I do, maybe. I think I'm pretty much in love with them. They have that old timey secretary vibe.

What I hate about Lenscrafters, though, is the way they treat people.

Seems like I have this problem with people I buy things from a lot.

But that isn't the point!

The point is, I have had glasses since I was four years old. This means that I have worn them that long, bought them that long, and known about the lenses that long. So, every time you tell me my lenses are thicker in the middle while yours are thicker on the outside ("Do you know why that is?"), I die a little on the inside.

I'm far-sighted. I should get glasses that are more circular than square to offset the thickness issue.

Oookaaaaaay, already.


All I'm saying is that it helps for people to just let me shop and ask questions if I have them. Otherwise...assume I know what I'm doing.


-grumblegrumblegrumble-



I guess you can tell when someone has had a lifetime of being taken for a fool, huh? My dad, the other day, was discouraging me from taking a mathematics and biochemistry double major because he doesn't think I can handle the curriculum.

Geez!



(I did better than he did in the same level courses (as far as Chemistry goes). But I didn't tell him that because he would Oh But Hmm Hey No. But I did. MUAHA. MUA. MUAHAHAHA...

I did say, "I know your course level was kind of hard, I guess. I read the book in my spare time." Stunned silence.

MUAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA...)

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What's there to say?

This past week has been a crazy whirlwind of good and bad.

First, I should preface my tales with this little fact: my parents are divorcing. (I'm fine.)

Father's Day, my dad and I went out to dinner after a long weekend of Mom out of the house (some of which Dad was out of the house, too. That was nice). We talked and bonded a lot. I learned a lot about the divorce that I think I needed to know. I've always only gotten my mom's side, when really my dad's family has the record of holding more stable relationships.

What I'm saying is that I've been looking back on my relationships of the past, wishing I'd had those talks with my dad before now. Reparation to myself is on its way, I think, so maybe I can love someone, someday, the way that person deserves to be loved.

Instead of being a crazy copy of my mother.

Anyway. That was something I had some time to ponder and maybe start to fix.

Otherwise...there was a party on Wednesday--Manal's. She's a friend of mine and has been since I was in...I think eighth grade. Her party was generally pretty fun; we swam, ran around, and just generally enjoyed ourselves. Afterward I told some of the people I hang around that I wanted Steak N Shake, so we headed over there for a late night meal.

I got some really bad news from my mom and went and threw up in the bathroom. Admittedly, the poker face I had on, coming out of the bathroom, masked exactly how bad it was--heart-shattering--and I was somewhat proud that I had that ability still. Even though I couldn't hide it completely, it was better than reacting the way I wanted to.

I went home and told Stevie. I'm still not sure if that was too cool of me.

But what's done is done. :-\

Anyway. Thursday was spent cleaning up the mess that was made the night before, which was REALLY no easy feat. I distinctly remember using the sentence, "I'm just eighteen. I don't know how to help," like it meant something (it doesn't). I fell asleep late, after learning that my dad was going to move out.

The next day, I went to Neb's house. It was pretty cool. I love how you don't have to talk, there. You can just sit, and sing, and not talk. I mean, sure I talked some, but mostly it was just nice to be outside, hanging out with people and listening to Neb and Xavier play their respective instruments (Neb with a guitar, Xavier running between guitar and bass). Xavier sang a song in Spanish to me...I'm not sure exactly what he said, but what I did catch made me blush like mad.

Then he sang a song about a vendetta against cats...then about a fuzzy fuzzy caterpillar...then munging (Sarah's idea)...then he went back to the caterpillars because I reminded him that they turn into butterflies. Later in the night it was dark and the tiki torches looked even cooler. Everything was so chill. It made me want to pick up a guitar all over again.


So, here I am, on Saturday, listening to Cake and doing tons of laundry and cleaning.

That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.



(I so almost snuck out and stayed the night at Neb's. A bunch of people were camping in his backyard and my mother doesn't seem to understand that 1) I don't have sex, and 2) I'm a legal adult. Whatever.)

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