Amanda the not-so-Academic

When I was in the fifth grade I was in every club, every organization, played softball, took piano lessons, was in orchestra, Girl Scouts, participated in a youth choir and other various church related activities. I also was relatively afraid of getting into trouble - I say relatively because I have always been willing to get into more trouble than Christina, but less than others (though this has certainly changed over the years). I typically did as I was told. I practiced the piano for half an hour every day and stayed up until I had done all of my homework and it was all correct. My entire life was structured, down to the minute.

At the time of "graduation" I received more awards than everyone in my class. I made the honor roll, I was even "orchestra student of the year" - and my parents had never heard me play the viola before. That was also the only year that I played the viola. I also got a perfect score on my writing SOL (the Virginia standardized test) - the prompt was "write about your favorite place" and I wrote about going to Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright's school in Arizona. Do you see what type of kid I was? I was a nerd to the umpteenth degree. And I had manners and I would rather stay in during recess and read than go outside and participate in whatever games were taking place. The aversion I have towards my peers started pretty early.

This kid that I was, she got everyone's hopes up as to what my future would look like. I was on this path headed towards greatness. I wanted to be an architect more than anything and I was always in advanced classes. I started taking French in sixth grade and then took algebra in the eighth grade, and instead of taking art or music for my electives I took engineering courses that were weighted (basically AP elective courses) in the Project Lead the Way program.

It was at this point, my freshman year of high school when my parents could no longer help me with my homework, and all of the activities took a toll. And whatever sheltered world my parents had created around me shattered. Suddenly going from volleyball practice to a piano lesson to a Girl Scout meeting and then staying up all night to do homework wasn't working. So, I quit Girl Scouts. And then softball. And then piano. And then volleyball. And with each activity that I gave up, my parents became disappointed and I began to avoid conversation with them as I knew it would most likely result in their desire for me to be that fifth grader who was capable of, and did, everything. And by the time I was fifteen, I didn't want to do everything. I wanted a life, something unstructured. But all that really resulted from that desire was my disinterest in doing anything academic.

I was in the gifted program, and I was in the same classes as everyone else whose parents had been as involved as mine were their entire lives. There were about thirty of us, we all took French in middle school and we were put in most of the same classes through our senior year of high school. It was during my junior year of high school where I spent the first semester really not doing much of anything in my AP English class. After I scored the highest on the mid-term in the class my teacher took me aside and told me how frustrated she was that I wasn't performing at the level she now knew I was capable of. My cover was blown by some essay about a sarcastic orchestra conductor - apparently the rest of the class didn't catch the tone of the piece we were supposed to analyze.

My senior year, we had do a project for AP Government that required we volunteer for the political campaigns and then write a paper about it. My teach wrote "flippant" next to my grade. I think it was a B, but that's all he wrote.

I recently came across an interim report card from that year, I had a D in English as a result of not turning things in...yet. I got them turned it before the actual report card went out. I'm still amazed at English teacher's willingness to let me turn things in late. I swear I didn't do half the assignments at the end of my junior year, and I went to school even after it was out and my teacher was still there because grades weren't due yet. I would sit at an extra computer in her classroom and do the assignments as she was grading others. She may read this and correct me, I may be wrong, but I swear she would ask me if I was going to do something and if I said yes she would just give me the class average.

Every year it was the same. Every teacher I have ever had that has talked to me for more than five minutes has told me to stop being such a "slacker." By the time I got to VCU, I had gotten by because I knew my teachers and for the most part, they liked me, but more importantly, they put up with me. Except for The Don - whom I will write about later. Anyway, these teachers, mostly English teachers knew I was capable and they did what they could to encourage me. And I'm still in touch with the important ones. When I got to VCU I had to take this awful class that was what they had instead of English 101. It was taught by people from various concentrations and I got stuck with this dude who was working on his Theater PhD or something, anyway he was an actor and we did not get along. He was always telling me that I need to expand things and that I needed to change my attitude and then he made the mistake of telling my class that he graded us based on what he thought we were capable of. So, when we got grades back and I knew that I had written something that was helluva lot better than the girl from Martinsville, Virginia who didn't know the meaning of ambiguous, but she got a better grade than I did, I was furious.

I'm fairly certain that this is why I flunked out of VCU, well part of it anyway. When you're depressed and motivated by liquor and crackers, and then you are getting your lowest marks in the subject that you are used to getting your highest marks - it's frustrating.

I basically started over last semester at the community college in Richmond. And I like it better. Apparently I do better in small classes where the professors know my name and I cannot hide, and my English professor has a PhD in English and gave me a 95 on my first paper. Fucking finally. I know this sounds terrible, but I don't think I've gotten a mark this high on anything since starting college. This was a three page paper that I wrote in about an hour. Perhaps her standards are just really low because it's community college, but whatever, I finally feel like that stupid fifth grader again. Then I got a 101 (with extra credit) on my first history test of the semester. And then I got an 83 (which is a B, but wouldn't have been in high school) on my first Statistics test, a test that I swear I had bombed.

I'm fairly certain that this is a direct result of my general contentment with where my life is right now. I finally live in a healthy environment. I have a fairly healthy relationship with my parents that was not at all possible when I lived at home, and they have stopped badgering me about my studies. I love my job and I'm writing more. But I still feel like this is a cheap joke and that next week my professors will announce that they graded all of those thing incorrectly and that 95 was supposed to be a 59. So, I'm not getting my hopes up, but I am reevaluating my expectations that I have for myself and have learned how to structure my time in a way that is healthy and not overwhelming, at least for me. My roommate saw my schedule and told me that it was insane, apparently making a color-coded excel sheet and putting it on the refrigerator is "OCD." Whatever, it works.

taboo

I find it interesting that people always claim to "hate drama," because that simply is not true. Without it I believe life would be quite boring.

Sometimes I feel like it would be nice if we could all be polite and pretend that we don't have a problem with whatever irritating situation we may be in, but at that point I become upset with the people that do do this as they are simply putting on a happy face.

My sophomre year in high school a bunch of girls (from church, no less) came to the conclusion that I was a slut. And they didn't like that I was always going to church dances with different boys and flirting and overall getting a lot of attention from a lot of fifteen and sixteen and sometimes eighteen year old boys. It wasn't until one of them was royally screwed over by one of the guys that had screwed me over that she (and her friends) realized I wasn't so bad afterall. Mind you I never had these problems as school because after my freshman year I made a point not to date anyone I went to school with. From my point of view I was a floater and was able to maintain my distance from any one clique. It's a shame I haven't been able to keep up with that outside of high school.

But then I suppose I prefer the tension and ambiguity and tall-tales that are shared at parties, between drinks and over bedsides.

Oh Shit!

For those of you that have already heard this story, sorry.

I guess it's been about a week since this happened - but I'll continue

Last week was SOL week, and unfortunately for me I had to be at school about an hour earlier than usual, and I didn't even have any SOL's DAMNIT! So, one day I had to be there at 7:30 AM. I walked in the side, lower level door just as the bell rang. I'd already gotten three tardies (two hour detention) and a fourth would mean a FOUR HOUR DETENTION! I couldn't let that happen, so what's a girl to do?

She ducks into the nearest bathroom and sits in the handicapped stall for twenty minutes perfecting her plan. She had obviously been stressed out, and she gets constipated when she's stressed out, and so she took a diuretic, but it didn't start working until she got to school (early - coughcough) and so she had been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes with diarrhea. Thankfully the nurse was understanding (tears of embarrassment helped) and called her administrator so no one else could hear. And she got an excused tardy that day. WHEW!

I know I'm ridiculous, but do you know anyone else who would have been clever enough to avoid that? DO YOU? I didn't think so.

my light blue housecoat with clouds on it and my "i heart dorks" pants

I'm just going to throw this out there.

Marco and I broke up. He's going to be in Korea for two years instead of one and doesn't know if/and/or/when he'll be able to come to the states to visit. I found out last night via a facebook message. LAME! But understandable considering our schedules as of late.

We both still love and care for each other, but two years is a really long time to be away from someone, and people can change so much in that amount of time.

I didn't cry at first, which is strange for me. I didn't cry until I went to pay my deposit for Old Dominion University and my bank account did not say what it said yesterday morning - I tried to tell myself that I was crying because money is tight, and everything is hard right now, but who was I kidding? Really, Amanda?

I ended up sending some poor soul that works for BB&T a horribly mean message, with multiple F-bombs and empty threats. It was outrageous, and I sent an apology to that automated message robot this morning.

Marco and I typically talk at least every two days, we haven't talked in over a week, I knew that was bad. And then because I use my iPod as an eightball, I've been asking it questions about me and Marco's relationship (when it's on shuffle - Charlanne taught me this game) and it's been mostly negative. One of Marco's close friends and his gal pal of a long time just broke up, all of these are things I've been ignoring. To most people, most normal people, people that don't ask their iPod questions (hey, it said that I was going to Colorado, and it was kind of right, I mean I got accepted, I'm just poor and our country is in a recession, blahblahblah...), these are people who would not have seen this coming, but I did, and chose to ignore it.

Spencer and I had talked before I received said message about this possibility. Then he called me and gave me virtual hugs. Spencer understands my blubbery-red-monster-sobs as English, I'm not sure how, but this is one of the many reasons we are friends.

Spencer: Do you have that pink and purple pillow I gave you?
Me: No, I threw it away because it got gross.
S: Do you have any other pillow you can hug?
Me: Yes.
S: Okay, hug that pillow as hard as you can and pretend it's me, I'll be hugging the wall.

(I'm sorry if this embarrasses you Spencer, but I had to.)
seriously, can any of you think of anything sweeter than that? I didn't think so.

Now, this morning, because I'm still feeling shitty, I decided to make waffles. Waffles always cheer me up, there is no great breakfast food, except for the Swedish pancakes and hot chocolate at Ihop, but I was at home, so I had to settle.

THE WAFFLE IRON WAS BROKEN! MY WAFFLE IRON! THAT AUTUMN GAVE ME FOR CHRISTMAS THREE YEARS AGO! IT NO LONGER WORKS! I HAD TO SETTLE FOR BANANA AND CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES, THEY ARE NOT WAFFLES, YOU CANNOT FILL THEM WHIT SYRUP! THEY DO NOT ABSORB SYRUP THE SAME WAY WAFFLES DO!

I'm not yelling at you, I was just in a state of panic this morning because waffles are just soooooooo good. I cried over this broken waffle iron. I am not well, and I did not and do not plan on going to school today.

Instead, I watched "Instant Beauty Pageant" on the Style Network, The Daily Show, and last night's Conan O'Brian, and now I'm listening/watching "Nine in the afternoon" by Panic at the Disco and writing this. I am pathetic, and making a much bigger deal of all of this than is necessary or healthy.

I wish summer would hurry up and come, I'll be working a ton, all my friends will be home, and everything will be better.

Senior "Activity"

It wasn't really a prank, so we called it an activity. Kathleen and I road her sister's tandem.


Me: Mrs. Smith, so you and your hubby used to use this?
Mrs. Smith: A couple times, we actually bought it for our daughter.
Me: ...?
Mrs. Smith: ...she didn't have any friends, we thought she'd have to find someone else to ride it with her.

Kathleen's sister apparently didn't have any friends, or so her parents thought. I'm not sure if I should feel bad or laugh at how hilarious it is that they thought a bike would help in some way.

Anyway, a lot of the Senior Class met up at Giant, on bike, scooter and rollerblades and then we rode down Old Bridge Road on them and had lots of cars/people honk at us with quizzical looks. It was awesome arriving at school this way. I wish I had pictures of the arrival, but steering a tandem is hard enough without taking pictures.

Those not involved did not appreciate it, a few of them were bitter, thought it was stupid, etc. They are lamelamelame - and obviously do not appreciate the fabulousity that is bombarding Doofy with bikes while he yells "BRAKE!" So cute. It also wasn't really a surprise a lot of faculty were waiting outside above the bus tunnel for our arrival.

Seniors '08 do it right.

I'm Alright

Today has been very stressful, mostly because I wasn't eating regularly and become very irritable when my blood sugar plummets.

I'll start with this weekend. All was wonderful.

Friday:

Went bowling with Ian (Glinka - best last name ever!) He's in a bowling league and a band, badass. My parents have not met him, they haven't met the majority of my friends and aquaintances - but what young twenty-something typically hangs out with eighteen-year-olds and would just love to have a sleepover where mum and dad are upstairs and baking up brownies? This isn't just in reference to Ian, he just happens to be the most recent. Anyway, the 'rents are upset because 1) I haven't been home much lately and, 2) they don't know anyone that I do - but while we argue about them not trusting me, they obviously do, because if they didn't they would attempt to do something ridiculous, like take away my keys or something else equally stupid on their part. I am the un-punishable child and now I'm eighteen and they're still trying, so cute.

Anyway, Ian and I went bowling, he won, because like I said before, he's a badass. We went on base (military) and unfortunately it closes at eleven, so we went to some diner in Arlington. I got home at around two-thirty. We talked, a lot, I haven't had one of those types of conversations in a veryveryvery long time AND more importantly, I didn't cry. This is a huge feat. I always cry. CONGRATULATIONS IAN, YOU ARE THE FIRST OF ALL MY FRIENDS TO HAVE A CONVERSATION LIKE THAT AND NOT SEE ME TURN INTO A BLUBBERY RED MONSTER! I'm glad we were able to finally hang out, it was long overdue and I've needed a good sit down lately.

Saturday:

I went to work at one, and missed celebrating Sara's birthday (another one of those young twenty-somethings), lame. I also missed hanging out with her today, I'll be making it up to her soon, I'm just not when yet.

I was at work until eight, and then drove down to Richmond to catch up with April - who's birthday celebration I missed the previous Saturday. As you can see, as far as birthdays are concerned, I'm a bit behind. I'm doing my best to catch up.

April is married to Steven, the brother of Jeff, the boyfriend of Rachel, the cousin of Erin, the girlfriend of Robert. Got it? Good. Everyone listed after April grew up together, and thus April (and Me) are the outsiders/yankees/snobs/etc. It's so ridiculous. I'm just going to give you the play-by-play:

Arriaval - 10ish
they are all in the multi-purpose room (I think it's supposed to be a family room of sorts, but this house is odd) playing pool - drinking
April shows me where I can put my stuff
we go into the master bedroom and chat while the rest remain in the MPR
I show her my prom dress, she makes fun of me for getting another poof skirted dress/skirt because they aren't the most flattering on me, but they are SO FUN! AND MINE HAS POCKETS! MY PROM DRESS HAS POCKETS!
we go back to the MPR and they're moved the dart board, but haven't put the protective board behind it, and I get a dart stuck in the wall
Jeff gets upset, but I'm quick to point out that I'm not the only one who's done this because there are several other similar markings and he didn't get upset about those
April and I eat brownies and drink milk while the rest continue being lame
We (me and April) attempt at pleasant conversation with the group, but they ignore us and seem to only be able to speak to each other when we try to talk to them
We turn on SNL, Jeff scoffs at it because it isn't funny, the rest follow suite and move to the kitchen
We are left in the MPR on a gross futon watching the biggest TV I've ever seen
Erin and Robert leave, Jeff and Rachel go to bed, April gets me a clean sheet and we discuss how gross the other one was (on the futon)
Steven has been in bed for awhile, April joins him and I continue watching SNL
It goes off, I watch Sex and the City
It goes off, it's raining, thundering and lightning outside
I hear Jeff and Rachel...
I fall asleep...

Sunday:

April gets me up and we all go to Millie's (a really cute diner downtown)
April and I try to make friendly conversation once again
We are seated, order, etc.
April tries telling a story and I am the only one listening
We run errands, and discuss her troubles
Go back to the house and rearrange the master bedroom
I leave to have dinner in NOVA with Marco's family, except they had already had dinner by six-thirty, and I ate fruit and cheese-its

April and I are pretty close. Very different, and did not get along eight years ago. I wish that there was something more I could do for her situation. But the more I think about it, the more I see the difference between city people and small town folk. In the city, we expect there to be different people, despite cliques, everyone is intigued by the new guy, from what I've noticed small town people aren't as receptive (I'm sure Mr. Brann will have something to say about this). April had a big, close, group of friends in high school and she's still friends, or at least in touch with most of them; she still manages to meet new people and... enjoys it. I haven't had that luxury, and I've come to appreciate it. If I didn't have such a variety of friends, I wouldn't be the person I am today, and I think we can all agree, I'm pretty much the shit.


*now, only because I'm anticipating some emails/comments/phone calls in regards to me hanging out with people so much older than me, I remind you to think of who I am, and the people I've been exposed to growing up - they were All, older than me, all of them, and somehow I've turned out alright, and managed to navigate DC successfully without having anyone threaten me, beat me, etc. (knock on wood) also, contrary to my mom's assumptions, I don't meet up with crazy old men, or anyone in general that I've met on the internet.

...to ensure my eternal salvation

I need these shoes. I've wanted them for entirely too long and now they are on sale! For a whole $100 less ( down to $150)! I need to devise a plan to get them, it may require begging and doing extensive yard work. I am okay with this. I am not okay with not having these shoes.

If I'm lucky they will go down in price before prom, but because I am anything but lucky the people at JCrew will realize that there are dozens of girls out there, somewhere, just like me, waiting. And then they will be back to full price.

Whatever. The factory/distributor/? is in Lynchburg. I could go there and steal them. Or pose as a delivery-person, or convince them that they are so hideous that they need to do whatever it takes to get rid of them because they are filling valuable space on the website.

I am being ridiculous. But, seriously, as Laiene would say, these are "the shoes of my life." These are all-purpose shoes. They can be used for dancing, walking, showing off awesome calf muscles, looking classy, dressing up like Dorothy (from the book), feeling really cool, looking snazzy...there are just so many uses for them!

I Graduate in EIGHT weeks!

I should be at school right now. I should be in English, AP Literature to be more specific. And yet, here I am, at home, on my computer (my parents' computer) serfing for a laptop, writing this, listening to The Shout Out Louds, and discontent.

I should know where I'm going to school next year. Everything should be finalized. I mean I got the Hair Cuttery job, the nannying is looking good (it's pretty much done, I just need to sign something, but they need to write it up first), but VCU still hasn't responded and I haven't actually received anything from ODU, and today when I tried to log-on to ODU's "accepted" or whatever page, I couldn't.

When I called the admission office at VCU they told me that my application was late!? BY FOUR DAYS!? I believe they have something screwed up, but because I'm taking it easy today and not trying to ruin it by arguing with someone who hates their job (they would inevitably win) I said fine and asked when I should hear back, soon. Soon? How soon? Like next week? or two weeks? If I don't hear back "soon" it could be to late to respond to ODU. And while I could still go to CSU, it's pretty much out of the picture seeing as it cost money, of which I have none.

You see my dilemma.

Now, ODU isn't bad, at all. All of the housing is suite-style, meaning I won't have to freakout when someone walks in and sits in the stall next to me as I was pooping. I would risk this if I went to VCU, or really any other college for that matter, because most freshman housing sucks. While ODU isn't known for it's brilliance it certainly beats all the other school's I've been to with it's housing options. I may not be happy about going to school with multiple Michael Mann's or John Baham's - great guys, but seriously 1) Michael has been expelled, twice 2) John has told he horror stories of frat parties, and I'm not sure if I want to put myself in a place where I know that they don't care if their "brother" is dying in the backyard from alcohol poisoning.

I have yet to hear any stories like that about VCU, though Eleana does go there, and she was an advocate of "jungle juice" and while I hope she was joking, you just can't really ever tell with her. VCU has more of my type of people though, the self-proclaimed creative, intellectual types, more book stores, and more music.

ODU really wouldn't be horrible but going to my backup school because I never heard from where I wanted to go would be irritating. I don't want to go somewhere just because it's pretty much my only option. How pitiful. I may end up doing this. If I don't hear from VCU by the end of next week I'm going to ODU.

Whatever, enough of that.

I didn't feel like going to school today, and there's no way I can bring up my grades. I was going to do make-up/extra credit stuff today, but then my computer decided that Microsoft Word was for "administrator's only" and because my dad thinks that I'll watch porn if I'm an administrator he won't let me be one. You'd think he'd realize I'm eighteen, seriously, I can buy my stuff by myself, I can download it at the public library and just e-mail it to myself! Seriously DAD! I'M WATCHING PORT ALL THE TIME THAT'S WHAT I'M REALLY DOING WHEN I TELL YOU I'M GOING TO THE CITY, SCREW LIVE MUSIC! I WANT TO SEE STRANGERS GETTING BUSY! He's ridiculous.

So, I've done nothing productive today other than discover www.hulu.com a tv/movie viewing sight, though I didn't check to see if they had any porn, I'll do that later.

I don't have any good grades for this quarter 1) because I was sick for the majority of the quarter and missed eight days of school, 2) I'm lazy and didn't do all the make-up, and 3) I don't give a flying monkey arse about grades as long as I graduate, which I will (even if my mom thinks that it's unlikely, if Autumn graduated there's no way that I won't - Autumn thinks she's a lot smarter than me though, so if she reads this she'll think something to herself along the lines of "I had better grades than Amanda does..." it may be true, but considering what they are right now, that's not hard.)

My grades are shitty. I'm going to have much better grades fourth quarter to make up for the shittiness of third quarter, seriously, I am. It'll be a "fresh start" to a stale year.

The Guilt Trip that lasts a lifetime

Just a moment ago, well now it's been about half an hour, my Dad came upstairs while I was busy facebooking (that is so a verb) my friend Theresa about how much I hate a certain teacher and said in passing, "So, you've been lying to us?" I know what I'm about to say sounds bad, and that I'm a cruel person and want my parents to suffer, blahblahblah, but I smirked. Because I knew exactly what he was talking about. Seminary. (that mormon class that I've gone to most school days for the past four years)

I don't hate anything more than getting up earlier than I have to on a school day. I don't have to be at school until 8:30! I should be able to go to be every night at midnight and get a full eight hours of sleep. BUT, NO! I have had my sleep interrupted every day at approximately 5:40 AM by my dad. Seriously, is that really necessary? He opens my door (one would think he would knock after a certain incident a few years ago, how does he know that last night wasn't the night that i started to sleep nekid? how does he know if I've got my knickers on?), turns on the light, let's Emmy out (the dog), leaves my door open, proceeds to walk by my door about 23984729 times saying, "TIME TO GET UP!" OR "TIME FOR SEMINARY!", each time a little louder, a slight aggitation in his voice, until i get up - go to the bathroom and proceed to pretend that I'm relieving myself when really I'm catching a few more Z's.

And everyday, I leave. I might go, I might not. The 'rents don't know. They just assume such, because, where else do i have to go? Nowhere. And they would be right. I don't go anywhere, except maybe Panera for the occasionaly bagel, or the gym, but mostly I just drive and listen to my music - and make sure I'm back by seven.

I've been pretending to go to avoid the argument. I'm not generally a passive person, in fact I'm quite the opposite, but when it comes to things religious, no matter how trivial, I just assume avoid it completely to keep the peace. And, eventually they will find out, be disappointed and feel that they have failed and that there is nothing they can do anymore. In layman's terms, I've won my battle.

So, going back to my dad's comment. I didn't lie. I simply left every morning. They were the one's assuming that i was going to seminary, I never actually said, "I'm going to seminary." But then, of course those that feel the need to be technical will point out that this was a "white lie," a lie by omission, that I did this with the intention of being deceitful. They would be right, but I've never been one to stick to technicalities.

Here's the deal about this whole Mormon Thing, as I call it. I don't hate the Church. I don't hate the people (well, not most of them anyway) I simply have a difference of opinion, and wish to leave it at that. I've tried explaining myself to everyone, multiple times, but it's useless and it's a waste of everyone's time. I just wish that my parents wouldn't down themselves so much or feel that they've somehow failed me as a parent because I didn't end up how I was supposed to.

Unfortunately, my parents will make me feel guilty about this for the rest of my life. For example, "You'll be the first Pittman not to graduate from seminary." I will also be the first Pittman to function a bit better because I will be waking up at least an hour later and therefore putting myself in a better mood for many, many, days in the near and distant future. I will also be sick less. I will also be putting this precious time to good use, for things such as sleep, catching some Z's, catching more Z's, occasionally waking up that early anyway to do homework, eating breakfast, sleeping, and getting enough sleep. (One would think that my dad would understand how important sleep is considering his admiration for it)

My parents don't say or do things directly to make their kids feel bad. Ever. And anyone who knows my family should know. My parents go out of their way. They ask us to read the scriptures, even those of us who haven't been to church in ten years, when it's obvious we don't want to be there. Or they'll ask us to say the prayer when our friends are over. Or ask us to help them with the dinner they're making for that family in the ward whose mother is sick, and isn't it so nice that our church has that type of community? that we know we can rely on one another? isn't it great? Well, Mom, no It's not because I don't know her, or her husband...he's the tall guy with the brown hair that he...or her kids, nor do I care. I'm sorry, but I DON'T KNOW THEM! Why aren't they're friends helping them? we are their friends... no, no we're not. I am not thier friend. I didn't even know who they were until today...

And it goes on for awhile like that.

I really wish that I went to one of those churches where everyone magically appears for an hour and then launches out the front door as soon as the service was over. Instead, everyone knows who I am, that I'm a Pittman, that I did not go to mutual this past week, or to the dance last night. They know everything, and for awhile, I was okay with it, I know how to deal, but really, should I have to? Should I have to do something just to maintain the peace? Should I have to pretend to like people I can't stand? Should I have to make friendly conversation with someone who likes my dress, and thinks I'm pretty, but is thinking "what a skank" in their heads? I know this by the looks I receive, by the hushed comments relayed as I pass a group of gossips - gossips who believe in being kind, and non-judgemental, and are just so humbled - bullshit.

I hate having people that I don't want or choose to know, know who I am, who I'm related to, where I live, etc. I didn't invite these people into my life, and somehow they feel it's their right to ask me what grades i got on my report card, or mention that Johnny told them that "Amanda sleeps in seminary."

Mind you, because of my upbringing I have my closest friends, some church-going, and some not, others just go for the food.

I hope that when I have kids of my own, I'll remember this, and I won't (to quote a church hymn) "force the human mind."

And so, Amanda the last hope, has done it once again, she's disappointed the people that love her most. But for the record, she didn't do it on purpose and she does feel bad that they're hurt and she hopes that one day they'll stop beating themselves up about it.

Marco

So he's my boyfriend.

I haven't written in awhile, and I began writing a post about him at some point, but got inturrupted...

Anyway, so I decided that 11:40 on a Friday was a good time to post.

Just so that you have the facts, I did not plan him. In fact, he messed up my plans...jerk. I had planned on spending the entirety of my senior/freshman years not being "tied down," "doing the relationship thing," "wasting time," etc. That was all true of my first semester this year, the Marco happened.

He's three years older than me, 6'2" and some sort of computer geek in the Army. He just got stationed in Korea, for a year. He's not in the Middle East, of that I'm very glad, and it'd be ideal to have him here, but apparently I can't have everything.

I've had a lot of people ask me if we're going to stick out through this year, or why don't I just date him when he gets back, etc. And the answer to all of those questions is that I met him now, we fell in love now, and I don't want to see other people. My being in a relationship will in no way keep me from "getting the full college experience." It won't keep me from meeting people or limit me in any way.

For those that know me best, I think they would agree that they didn't think this would happen, especially now, and that it's even good for me. Not that I'm reckless, but I've certainly poo-pooed relationships in the past. I'm starting to realize what it means to be "young and stupid." I'm okay with that. I'm okay with that label. I assure you though, it's not "puppy love."

How do I know?

That's a loaded question. We've only been together a couple months and already he's seen me at my worst. I've been sick a lot, and he's right there making sure I'm okay. He's a gentleman, even if my mom thinks he didn't get me anything for V-day. He knows all those little things that drive me crazy. He's seen me cry, a lot. He doesn't get uncomfortable, or think that it's awkward, he does all in his capacity to listen, understand, and make me smile.

After we said "the L word," I told my mom and she told my brother Joseph (the one in Spain). His response was that he (Marco) just wanted to get in my pants. I won't elaborate on why that's the furthest thing from the truth, just know that I know it is. I think it's cute that Joe said that, he's such an ass.

Marco listens to my dad's endless war/military stories, and actually enjoys them (or so he says). My parents and everyone he's met likes him. MY DAD LIKES A BOY THAT I LIKE! He's horrible at Connect Four, and the fact that he'll play board games with me/my family/his little sister is wonderful. He likes my writing and encourages me to write more, and more importantly he understands it and appreciates my thoughts on life. I may be a little quirky (or a lot, whatever) and he's down with all those little things.
He is a pro napper. We are pro nappers together. Napping is one activity we can enjoy anytime, anywhere and have a fabulous time. We are also avid Scrabblers.

He's in Korea and I get excited when I see that we're online at the same time. I get it, a whole year of checking my inbox and arranging phone-calls.

My parents always wanted me to marry a return missionary, I suppose a soldier will have to do.

yet something else i have in common with my father

I don't do blood, well at least my blood. if you're bleeding I'm excellent. I'm excellent in all emergencies.
I also don't do broken skin. If i can see inside your body, no matter how small the gash, i will become queasy.

Today while i was cutting Anya's hair in cosmetology I cut my finger. She, knowing that i don't like my blood quickly gave me a band-aid. It was fine, well sort of. If she had put the band-aid on and i hadn't seen it i would have been fine, but i saw it. I SAW INSIDE MY FINGER!

It's only a finger and yet it was quite traumatic. So traumatic in fact that i did become queasy and and nausious and dizzy, and OH MY GOD I CUT MY SKIN. SICK.

Mrs. Burchell had me sit down and but my head between my knees, and then apparently a couple of friends thought I'd do better if i had some fresh air and led me out into the hallway and opened the door. I don't remember this. Mostly because of all of the above reasons and everything was really blurry.

I fainted. In the hallway. In front of the Teacher-Cadet classroom. I was only out for a minute or so, and they caught me, so I was okay. BUT! I had cut my skin, my skin, my skin, my skin - and that is not okay.

I laid there for awhile regaining consciousness and a couple of girls who weren't in my class were standing over me when things started to become clear.

The nurse walked me down to her office, gave me a new band-aid, and had me sit down and drink water for awhile. She put the band-aid on, not me. I have yet to change it because i don't want to look at it. GROSS!

I've never passed out before, ever. So, I suppose this is kind of exciting, but it's very strange having all sorts of people that you don't really know ask you if you're alright. I'm fine, and hope this never happens again, but now that I know it's possible, it probably will. Hopefully not for a very, very long time.

The love of my life

I've come to accept that I'm going to grow old, alone, and be the town's spinster who all the children's mom look at an say, "you don't want to grow up and be like her." I'm okay with this, seriously I am.

You see, I don't do relationships. This year my excuse is that it's my senior year, next year it'll be my freshman year, after that I'll be saying that "I'm still young, I've got time." And that will be me until I hit menopause and am old, grumpy, wrinkly, and wearing polyester suits that emphasize my saggy tits. OR, this is a big OR because the previous possibility is probably the most depressing thing I could imagine, but my other option is falling in love, and love isn't predictable nor does it happen when you want it to.

And so me being Amanda, I will unknowingly pass it up to pursue my plans. Or I'll be dating a guy, he'll pop the question and I "won't be ready" because it will be my first relationship lasting more than a couple months...since freshman year. I plan on having several moderately long term relationships before getting married, but unfortunately this ideal contradicts all of my excuses.

Fortunately for me I have D.C., the nation's capital, and after college when I inevitably come back here, I'll have the city that i find comfort in, that can fit all my moods, will love me in my jimjams and light my way as I walk home in last nights clothes. The upside is that in this situation I'll be working as a columnist for the Post (remember this is city Amanda, not to be confused with suburb-teaching Amanda), stay out late, go home and write about whatever it was that I did, saw, whatever. OR I could be lobbyist, this could work out very well. All these different things though, this is the beauty of the District, absolutely anything is possible.

Nownow, one might presume that everything is possible everywhere, this isn't true. You see the Post is in D.C. and I really can't think of anything else I'd like to write for except maybe a music mag, like Magnet, Spin, AP, or a news mag, Newsweek, Time, or of course a girlie mag, Cosmo, Elle, Glamour (where i'd write about dirty things and fashion, AHA! not really though, I'm not that shallow). But the Post is my first choice. And then of course lobbyists, they don't hang out in downtown Denver, or Phoenix, they may travel there, but it's all centered here. (nt. i would never have near the interest in politics that I do if I hadn't been raised here) We can't forget the music scene, sure it's not L.A., Portland, or NYC, but it's decent, and I love it, and all the kids doing they're thing who've lived here their whole lives.

I love those kids, but I don't want to be one of them. They're all stayed here, I want to take a break and come back. That's how true love is, I think. One knows their true love, but leaves them for better situations only to come back, right? or have I just watched to many romantic flicks? Probably both.

counting down the days

It's the second week of school and all I'm concerned about are what shows I'm going to see and how I'm going to pay for them, when I should be filling out college applications, writing essays, and basically figuring out what the beginning of the rest of my life is going to look like.

My schedule is as follows:

1 - OER (no class, I get to come in at 8:30)
2 - AP Gov't
4 - Oceanography
6 - AP English
3/5/7 - Cosmetology

It's nothing excessive, nothing painful, but then there's this slight problem, oceanography. I thought it would be interesting, I was wrong; the teacher is sweet, but how you would expect an elementry school teacher to be sweet. I'm looking for something that'll keep me awake, and interested, not third grade, so I'm switching out. I'll be in GEMS, it's the senior seminar course where we sit around ant talk about whatever in some sort of depth, depending on the group of students. GEMS is supposed to be intellectually stimulating, and that's what I'm looking for, and hopefully this time next week I'll be in.

This doesn't seem like a huge deal, and it's not, but by not taking the fourth science I'm giving up getting the "Advanced Studies Diploma." Everyone that I've told is less than pleased, and thinks I should stick it out, but I'm Amanda, I've made my decision, and this is how it's going to be. I won't be going to school in-state if I can help it, and out of state schools could care less as long as I fulfill their requirements.

Then there's all my plans. I've wanted to go on a road trip after senior year since I was in second grade, THIS HAS TO HAPPEN.

So my plans at this time in order are: study for the SAT; take SAT...again (hopfully I'll get a decent score this time, that is if studying actually helps, at this point I wouldn't know); get various teachers who love me, but are often dissappointed that I don't live up to my potential, to give me fabulous recommendations; write essays, lots and lots of well thought out and well written essays that demonstrate who I am; and of course fill out applications... All the while I'll be saving money, as much of it as possible (while still seeing as many shows as possible, of course, without shows I wouldn't have anything to look forward to, so i wouldn't have anything to get me through my week). Sometime between now and next June I also need to buy a shitty car, one that can get me across the country and back and then die. I'm also leaning towards being a nanny next summer, they get paid a fair amount, I'm good with kids, why not? And, if it were in the city where I'm going to school that'd be perfect. I'm putting an add up on Craigslist after my birthday (Nov. 3rd guys, I expect monsterous amounts of cards and balloons, of course a simple email would suffice, unless I always get you amazing present and you don't get me amazing presents, in this circumstance YOU OWE ME. BIG. )

This whole "high school experience" has served it's purpose, and that was over three years ago, I've come, I've seen, I need to leave. I'm not a typical high school student in that, a) all my teachers love me, unless of course I didn't like them first, b) it's not just teachers, I can carry on a conversation with anyone, adults more than kids, and c) I haven't had that group that seemingly the majority of the general population has in high school, I'm very much a wanderer, loner, whatever you want to call it, and the majority of my friends are already in college so I'm already use to there long-distance friendships.

You may be wondering why I'm so set on going far, far away. I have lived in this Place, my entire life. The same house. I've seen innumerable amounts of people come and go. For once in my life, even if it's just the four years that I'm in college, I'd like to be the new kid. The one that someone like me would do for someone new here, would see me, recognize me as a new kid, unfamiliar to the territory and show me around. I've always wanted to see it from the other side, and if I stay here for school, I will become like every other person her, and stay here forever not having seen anything, or really been anywhere. DC is a fabulous city, it's definately a huge part of me, and I do see myself coming back one day. But that day is far, far, away, and for now I need some new scenery. Hopefully that'll come in the form of Colorado, Arizona, or Oregon, and a city. I need a city, just not this one, not now, and certainly not for the next four years. Eightteen years is a long time to live anywhere no matter how old you are.

favors

i'm a fan of charity; giving my leftovers to that lady that hangs out around the fountain in old town; donating to the salvation army; those sorts of things. but favors, favors do not sit well with amanda. unless she asks, don't do it. DO NOT DO IT! SHE WILL NOT APPRECIATE IT! (unless it's in the form of flowers, brownies, or a victoria secret gift card, but let's be honest those aren't favors they're presents and amanda loves presents)

the perks of still living at home are fabulous, free food, a car that is accessible on the weekends (unfortuneately not all the time), occasionally money (when my parents get tired of seeing my we are scientists shirt everyday), those sorts of things. but my paretns, they are capbale of irritating me like no other. like last night, my dad decided to clean all the windows, great i dea dad, but my desk is in front of my window, and dad, you didn't put anything back. this morning my mom felt the need to fold, and start putting away my laundry; dealing with my clothes is a HUGE no-no. i hate the thought of anyone washing, drying, and touching my clothes. this isn't because i'm afraid they'll get dirty, but because i'm OCD about things being done my way. if it's not my way, and it's dealing with my things, it's definately the wrong way. and of course my dad felt the need to laugh at how funny it is when amanda's irriated by coming in and nonchalantly saying, "i think i'll go mess around in amanda's closet." he is so sweet.

my room may not be the cleanest, but all my stuff is in it, and they can certainly find something else to do that doesn't concern me. like shopping, or dancing, or walking... anything so long as they're not in my room, or trying to read over my shoulder.

now, i get this from my mom. but she asks for things to be done, and expects them to be done her way and when they're not she gets mad. especially when we have people over. i hate having people over simply because my mom feels the need to act as though brad pitt and jennifer aniston are breaking up all over again. it usually involves her asking me to help with dinner, getting mad because i didn't make the potatoes correctly, asking me to vaccuum, getting upset because i did it too early so it's not perfect when the guests arrive, or something similar.

this is why my family visits in short spurts. very rarely longer than three days. after that time, we're done, we've seen you, you're alive, that's great, but i'm going nuts having you rearrange the stuff on the counter in the bathroom, in my desk drawer, moving the location of the silverware, etc. i'll see you later.