It's a love/love thing.

Lazy sundays. Really, I love them. I do. Even if I have Kohls orientation today, it still feels like a lazy day. I'm supposed to have dinner tonight with Jessica and Hannah, but Jessica says she might be too tired from rehearsal. Which is cool, I guess. I'm surprised that they have rehearsal on a sunday, but I'm actually not really surprised. All the complaints about missing homecoming[when they didn't], and from what Katherine tells me, they need all the rehearsal they can get. They open this week.

I love Sex in the City. Carrie's narration is just running through my head. I want to write like that.

While Vicki was rushing to make it to rehearsal before she was even more late, I was contemplating my first day at Kohls. Orientation. An introduction, basically, to something new. What was it all going to entail? And speak of tail, Faraz was in the process of getting some.

I don't know, some bull like that. Anyway, I have to go.

Who am I, anyway? [reprise]

Am I a signage person at Kohls? Do I come in, after the store has closed, to replace old sales with new sales? Do I do this until one in the morning, for seven dollars an hour? I guess I will soon.

I'm not too ecstatic about the job, but it is a job. And anyway, what do I do from eight to ten pm? I buy stuff. So, at least this will help me save.

Lyn and I are going re-job hunting tomorrow. Maybe find something that a vampire wouldn't enjoy.

Besides, I have no idea why the manager thought I would have an eye for detail. I definitely felt like Augesten Burroughs, when he goes to offer his advertising for a sail company. They tell him that they're happy with their advertising company, but then offer him a job cutting sails. They didn't even ask him if he was qualified for it. Stupid.

And I just laughed on the inside.

I feel fat.

"Who am I, anyway?
Am I my resume,
that is a picture
of a person I don't know.

What does he want from me?
What should I try to be?
So many faces
all around,
and here we go.

I need this job.
Oh god, I need this show."

I got kicked out of the Chem lab today, because I was wearing flip-flops. Some girl argued back at the teacher, "These aren't sandals, they're shoes." The teacher then proceeded to get mad; her face steadily reddened, and she said, "It does not matter; they are open-toed."

Anyway, it's ironic that the above lyrics from A Chorus Line popped into my head this morning, as I am going to my Kohls interview this evening. I want to take a shower and shave before, but I have voice lessons at 3:30, and I don't know if I'll be back in time to do all that. I should have enough time to get home and change, and then I can grab my electric and shave in the car or something. I've done that before.

A guy to my left is wearing a beret.

That's college for you, I guess.

Unemployed? Pt. III

Lynashley and I both got calls from Kohls. We have interviews on Tuesday. It actually went like this.

Lyn was laying in my bed when the housephone rang. Daniel was the only other person in the house, and I knew that he wasn't going to get it, so I did. "Hello?" It was Kohls. We set up an interview on tuesday at 5. I excitedly hung up and ran into my room. "LYN!! Kohls called, they wanted an interview!!!!! YAY!!!"
She was pissed. "What the fuck?" For the past month, she had been trying to get jobs and they had never called her. Of course, the job that we apply for together is the job that calls me first. She starts chasing me around the house, yelling. I decide to use the stairs, since she can't stand them. Eventually we both get winded and end up on the floor of my room. She checks her phone. She's missed a phone call. From Kohls.

Anyway, I'm really excited that I got a phone call so early. It's only been two days, after all. Cross your fingers, lets hope Lynashley and I get this job together.

I love when the weather is just right.

I just spent an hour and a half sitting in a cold room, hunched over an algebra test that would've been easier if I had bothered to look at the review problems he gave us. But when I got outside, it was that comfortable kind of heat, the kind that makes you want to crawl up on the warm ground and cat-nap. Unfortunately, I don't have my laptop, otherwise I would've stayed outside. It's cold in the library too, and I can't even get a latte to warm me up. The espresso machine is down.

Pointless post, but the weather was nice.

Damn Vicki.

Inspiring me to write.

“It’s hard,” he says.

I remember kissing him. Our lips would lock, and time would slow down. I remember kissing him with my eyes wide open; his eyes would shut tightly.

He says, “Sometimes.”

I remember looking at his eyelids. I remember the feeling of that small, tiny patch of forgotten beard after he would shave. I remember that his lips were heavy and hot.

I look at him. “What’s it like?” I would say.

He looks down. “It’s complete night, nothing but clubs and mosh pits.”

It’s what he says every time, and I believe him. It’s what he wants.

He looks up. His mouth opens, but before he can speak, the wind blows. The candle flame sputters and dies, leaving the room dark.

Sigh. I stand and flip a switch. The harsh light shines on an empty room. He never can stay long. He was the same way when he was alive.

Unemployed? Pt. II

Lyn and I went job hunting today. We applied at Linen's and Things, Barnes and Noble, Office Depot, and Kohls. I also applied at Petsmart.

I really hope it rains soon. The clouds have been on again/off again looming all day. Is it proper to give clouds an on again/off again attribute? I suppose it's not necessarily that the clouds are getting together and breaking up, or anything like that. Maybe I should've worded it better.
"The clouds have been looming on and off all day."

That's better.

It's nice to think of your friends in high school when you're wandering around town, eating lunch at McDonalds. It feels weird, sort off like when you skip class, or when you miss school for something frivolous. Exciting. Dangerous. Well, not really dangerous. Privileged. That's the right word. We're privileged.

I suppose.

I suppose...

Semi-colons are dumb. I don't know, I just don't like using them so much.

I applied for a job at Starbucks. I'm fairly excited, and I hope I get it. They get fairly nice wages, I hear, plus don't they get dental insurance? I'm supposed to go job hunting with Lynashley today.

I can't do claims forever. I'll kill myself. Seriously, sitting at that small laptop for hours, typing and staring at that screen. It'll kill me. I start to hurt after 30 minutes, my shoulders, my fingers, my wrists, my neck, my eyes, my ears. It's a serious job hazard.

I had Chick-fil-a for breakfast and it felt soo good. That's right, it didn't just taste good. It felt good.

Unemployed?

I'm not technically unemployed. I still do all that insurance claim work for my mom. But that's definitely not bringing in the money. So, I'm thinking about getting a job on the side. Strictly part time, weekends, maybe a couple nights a week. First on my list is Studio Movie Grill, which might be cool. I know several people that work there, and while the pay isn't high, it doesn't seem to be that tough. Now, that's just my naive outside view, so feel free to correct me if you work or have worked there. Plus, Lynashley and I agreed that we would do it together, if at all.

It just feels like a step down. I made seven something at the Y, and it was pretty easy. My boss was a pain, and the hours were tough, but I made near 500 every two weeks. The pay now would be lower since it's the off season, but it'd still be seven something.
But, Chelsea's right. It's a different field. It's entertainment, people pleasing. So it's not bad.

I can't help feeling that it's a class difference, but that's completely retarded. It's my stupid parents. My dad doesn't care, but my mom definitely will. Her parents were raised by Nazis. And that's not a metaphor.

Still, all this thinking has done a good thing and made me reach out to Whitney, whom I will hopefully be hanging out with tonight. Yay!

You're right Faraz.

I just need too rebound from this slump. I just need to find my own Ryan, someone I can just make out with, and mess around with, and be cool with that. I need to start dating. Seriously. It's vitally important to my mental and emotional health that I start dating soon. But how? How the fuck can I find guys to date? The internet? Hah! Yeah right. But maybe that is how I can find guys. Damn.

Just for the record, this beautiful day turned into a hot shine-down.

It's a love/hate thing.

I love when I see people from highschool, but I hate it when they see me.

Wow, my english teacher was fairly rude at the beginning of class today. Hah, when I walked in Mini-dawson was talking about her, and I loved it because class-mates were agreeing with him, which lets me know I'm not alone. He was talking about how it was hard for him to write the essay, because when everything he tried to share in class, she metaphorically told him he was wrong. Then as another guy was going to say something, she walked in.

Oh gawd, I just realized I used 'wow' and 'hah' in my previous paragraph. I don't know if that's good or bad.

There's this guy in the library, everytime I come in after English. I've never seen him before this year. But he's got really cute dirty blonde hair, and mutton chops. Not full on really, just long long sideburns. Anyway, everytime I come into the library, he's playing Super Mario 64 on his laptop. I really just want to go up to him and say, "Hey, sweet game." or something like, "Hey, I love Super Mario 64." But it's weird. What it also weird is that I subconsciously chose a computer on the second floor where I could see him on the first floor. He sits pretzel-style on his chair, which reminds me of Zach Schulte and his weird way of sitting, which reminds me of Hannah and her taste in awkward, artsy boys. Which sort of means I have a taste in awkward, artsy boys. And who wouldn't? Maybe Lynashley, or Morgan, or Faraz. Although, Lynashley, Faraz and I share the same taste in manly men. But then, I'm sure Faraz and Morgan share the same taste in twinky guys. What I wanted to say, was that I'm sure I would like Yma's Joseph, if he's this kind of awkward, artsy guy I'm thinking of.

Hahaha! What if I post this, and the cute guy reads it for some random reason. And he realizes that he's the guy. And he looks up and sees me looking at him. That would be bad!

Today is a beautiful day. I'll touch on that later.

I went all week without blogging.

I need to keep up. I can't stop this year. Or ever again.

Not always, but alot of times during school, or when I'm hanging out, bloggish thoughts will enter my head, and I'll feel like typing them up right away. It's odd, but I like it.

What sucks is that I can't think of anything to write right now. And I don't feel like posting this on three other sites.

Ooh, there's a cute guy from my class in the library.

My english teacher isn't that dumb.

Although she's kind of rude.

Mayby she's just getting frustrated?

I tried to make it easier by speaking up, but I felt like she treated my answer like it was wrong. You're the wrong one, lady. Luckily, two classmates supported me. I thought that was nice.
I'm right though. The speaker in Frost's 'Mending Wall' isn't looking to change the tradition of the reparing the wall each spring. He's merely providing a commentary on his thoughts and views while building it. He may or may not approve of the wall, but he likes the tradition of going out each spring and mending it. It's also a time for the neighbors to 'mend' their relationship, as stupid as that sounds.

Chrfwzrd: I'm alot like you, only I hide it better.
Vickiooos: ?
Chrfwzrd: Goodnight.
Vickiooos: lol wtf

This odd feeling.

Do you ever get that odd feeling of numbness? Actually, I wouldn't really call it numbness. More like an overwhelming of feeling.

I look at something. It gives me this odd feeling. I sit in my chair, looking at this thing. I give it a good few minutes before the feelings almost overwhelm me. Then I say, "Okay, enough. Don't do this to yourself anymore." So I stop.

But it's not until I stop looking at this thing that I realize that the feeling was so overwhelming. When I stop looking, the hairs on my arms and head all stand up. I start shivering. And a knot gathers in my throat. I unconsciously push back the tears.

I want to cry. But I rarely do. It must be a guy thing.

Party politics.

It's my mom's birthday party, and outdoor swimming/grilling/ping-ponging get together with her school friends who have never met us before, but know almost everything about us. My father and his work, staying at home all day. Daniel and his VW bus, his State ring from the football team he barely played on. Julia, her middle school drama, swimming and volleyball. Ollie and his near OCD status, which I feel like no one but me will actually recognize. Me and my gayness. My paganism. My theatre. And even our friends. Daniel and his friend named Anus. Me and Yma, the bald girl.
Needless to say, I don't feel too comfortable.
Needless to say, I don't necessarily want to be here.

The women sit in or by the pool, chatting away, while they force their family and husbands to mingle with eachother. Awkwardly. For a whole five minute, some dad and I watched Daniel and my dad play ping pong. This was after ten minutes of watching two other dads play ping pong. In near silence.

Of course, I'm over-dramatizing. But oh well. It's a lark.

Thank goodness.

For the weekend. I'm really looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

So, I might be in a movie. Not a real one, just a fun project. Connor Clifton and Panda are directing/writing it. It's basically an 80's movies spoof. Connor wants me to play the lead, which should be cool. It'll be fun and give me something to do since I won't be able to do any plays at college this semester. Plus I've got voice lessons, the insurance stuff for my mom, and I'm working on my play.

I'm excited about that, although I need to continue work on it. I don't want to burn myself out on it, but I can't just leave it alone until I get inspiration. I feel like I need to work on it, even if it's shit. The plan is, shit will inspire me to fix it, and lead to brilliance. I've already slightly rewrote the scene I posted, although not much. I just love that scene. It reminds me of Bare, which I love. Actually, the quote at the top is from Bare. So we'll see.

I love writing blogs now, and I want to get more people to read! So I've started using tags.

I just had this stupid stupid day dream.

In which some celebrity finds out that my tarot readings come true, and they start this huge fad where all the stars come to me for readings. I keep telling the press, "I"m not psychic or anything. People believe what they want to believe, and people believe that my readings are true."

So this day dream starts with me in my two bedroom apartment that I share with Elizabeth in Boston or L.A. or San Fransico. I get a buzz from the front door, and someone says, "Mr. Efron would like a reading, Mr. Bernal." And I say, "Mr. Efron should know that I don't give readings afer five o'clock without an appointment." Than Zac's voice comes on. "Chris, come on let me in. I just need to see you." I sigh, and let him in, because I've always been a sucker for cute suck-ups. He comes up, and he sees that I'm writing a blog, which has become nationally read since I made the D-list. "Ugh," he ughs. "I hate that blog of yours. I read it everyday in fear that my name will be on there." Then we fight, because he thinks he should be able to control me, and I think that he's a snob. I tell him, "We're not even going out anymore, and it's not my fault that some drunk you fucked in a bathroom took a great oppurtunity to out you to the world." Then he sighs and says, "You're right, I'm sorry." Then he spends half an hour trying to get me to let him stay the night, which I can't because I've got an 8:00 reading with my favorite client, Jennifer Aniston. Besides, I broke up with him, and if I give him any ground I'd be slightly ashamed. Although my sister, who's just graduated highschool and is going to some great school on a volleyball/swimming scholarship, doesn't understand why I don't just use him back. She doesn't understand that I would never use my clients celebrity to get my plays published, which I've now started writing under a pen name.

"Red High Heels."

I'm gonna call up that old boyfriend you said still has it bad for me.

Gonna take him into town, flaunt him around, for everyone to see.

Well, you say 'Watch yourself, baby.' Well, you know the deal.

Nobody holds a candle to me in my red high heels.

If only I felt like that all the time. This song will be popular with the fans of the Brokeback Boys. I just need some red high heels to fit my feet.

It's 8th grade all over again.

God, I spent the last two years of highschool becoming way more self-confident, more friendly, and less shy. Now in a single week, that's all gone. I'm this moody middle schooler again, who doesn't talk to anyone, thinks he's smarter than everyone, and reads way too much. I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. I keep telling myself that it'll change, "You'll lose weight, you'll get to know people, that zit inbetween your eyes will fade." And deep down, I know that it's true. It's just that right now I don't feel good at all.

Now that I think about it, I realize that it's only on mondays and wednesdays that I feel like that. Tuesdays and thursdays I'm with Daniel in chem, and Stefani in algebra, and I enjoy those classes. If only because I'm with people I've known for a good while.

And english isn't bad, just my dumb teacher. But I guess it's just tennis and acting that I feel awkward. I'm really reconsidering this acting thing. But it's the only real thing I can think of that could pay the bills. That and teach, hahah. Which is probably what I'll end up doing. Teaching english, theatre, philosophy, or theology. Whatever, you know.

Okay, now it's time to actually pay the bills. Work.

An event in my college Eng. II class.

We were talking about symbols, and someone suggested the dove. "It represents peace?" the girl said, as our teacher gave her a dumbfounded look. "Oh, yes," said the teacher. "Like in the Vietnam war, with the doves and the hawks. They represented the people for and against the war, the one in Vietnam. The doves were obviously the hippies, because they were getting killed and drafted."

I metaphorically beat my head on the desk.

Rough draft.

Like real life, this play has too many story lines. Too many characters with broken hearts. Too many inside jokes.

Spotlights up right and down left. Up right, Doug is seated with his arms around his knees. Matthew stands uncomfortably, shivering in the cold. Down left, Stephen is sitting on a chair, with Jenny straddled over his legs. They are making out. He stops her.

JENNY. Do you not want this?

STEPHEN. I don’t know if you want this.

JENNY. Well.. [She kisses him. They make out.]

DOUG. What do you want from me Matthew?

MATTHEW. Nothing. I… You don’t need to give me anything.

DOUG. What does that mean? Do you want me to still like you?

MATTHEW. No. I mean… I don’t know.

DOUG. What? Do you still like me? Do you want me to tell you that I never stopped loving you? Even when I tried to cut you completely out of my life?

Stephen stops Jenny from continuing. He’s silent.

MATTHEW. No, I just… I…

DOUG. Well?

JENNY. Say something.

STEPHEN. I… I can’t.

MATTHEW. Well..

DOUG. [Stands, and grabs Matthew’s chin.] Just look at me. Look.

JENNY. [Grabs Stephen’s chin.] Just look me straight in the eye and tell me. Tell me we'll never go out again.

STEPHEN. Okay. We'll never go out again.

MATTHEW. Okay.

DOUG. Tell me. Tell me that there's nothing there.

JENNY. Absolutely nothing no matter how deep down inside.

STEPHEN. Jenny…

JENNY. Break my heart, Stephen. Please God, just break my heart.

MATTHEW. Doug, don’t.

DOUG. Tell me.

MATTHEW & STEPHEN. I really like this girl.

Black out.

Stealing hearts.

Why can't someone just steal my heart back from him?

It's been almost two years. I've liked him for so long, and I have no idea what he feels about me now. I guess I kind of deserve it. I cut him completely from my life, that he might be hurt. And it wasn't completely his fault that I got hurt so bad. But, still. You'd think that I might've moved on by now. But it's so hard. I wish I could just sit down with him and discuss it. But I don't think I'd hear anything new or important. He's a capricorn, I'm a pisces. I just feel so much stronger than he does. What sucks the most is that no one has come along to make me forget him. No one has come alone to take back that piece of my heart. Or to give me some of theirs.

Maybe that's what it is. Maybe we each just give and recieve pieces of hearts, to fill the holes and the cracks that are in our own. I gave him a piece of mine, and I still haven't recieved one back. Maybe that's why we go through life. To mix and match hearts, so that we're fully grown and mature souls. We trade pieces, to find a way to connect us all.