Dear Diary,

I know, long time no talk, right?

Well I just got done talking with my friends in the Philippines. It was really cool just being able to see them again, and really awkward again like I knew it would be. Since tonight is a time change, we're going to be thirteen hours apart from them until the spring time. That's super confusing.

It was awesome, though. We even got to sing with them. Right now they're getting ready for church. We're getting ready for bed. Crazy.

One of the pastors really hit home for me tonight, though. He asked where my mom was and said that they were all praying for her that she would become a sister in Christ with us someday. That really touched me very deeply. Then he told me that I was beautiful. I didn't know what to say. I've been struggling with my self image for a very, very long time and recently it's been especially hard. The Spirit totally used him to comfort me, and I really needed it.

My brother is on the phone with me now. His voice makes me want to tune out. I guess I am tuning out if I'm typing to you instead of listening to him. Heh. I'm not good at this whole paying attention thing anyway.

And we're talking about politics now. This is the first year he's ever gotten a chance to vote. I don't vote anymore. I refuse to waste my life supporting a lie that my vote actually chooses a president. The electoral college does that. I refuse to be another gullible American. The election is a bunch of crock and it has always been that way. Besides, the president doesn't have as much power as they lead us to believe. Congress has control. There's only so much one human being can do. I'm sick of being led by a country full of young, stupid, blind, crass, impulsive, empty-headed human beings who are passionately uninformed and committed to being brazen, argumentative, abusive, inflammatory, and lazy. There's a reason we keep changing presidents but nothing ever gets better.

And that's my rant for the night.

So long, cow poke,
La Habanera

Dear Diary,

It's tradition to start each entry with a complaint, so here it goes: my abdomen aches like crazy since it is that time of the month. Oh lucky, lucky, lucky me.

Trunk or Treat last night was awesome. It was chilly, but I had a lot of fun painting faces for the kids and the occasional adult or two. People also liked my costume and remarked that I spent WAY too much time writing on it [I was dressed up as a diary]. It was unanimously decided that my costume was creative.

I agree.

Last night the dude who lives next door tried to strike up a conversation with me when I was headed home. I honestly never really feel like talking to him since when I get home it's at the end of a long day and I'm exhausted out of my brain. I talked for a bit but then rushed inside to sleep. Sleep is beautiful. Beautiful sleep.

I'll have to talk to him eventually, I suppose.

So tomorrow morning I'm singing at both services and I'm finally ready for it. I mean, I've had the song down for a while, but emotionally ready. I really don't think I'm ever happier than when I'm in front of a group of people singing or acting.

Tonight I'm going to go skype my friends in the Philippines. I haven't talked to most of them in forever since they're twelve hours away from me. It should be pretty cool, and insanely awkward. There's never much to say that makes a decent amount of sense what with the language and cultural divide. Eh, whatever.

Over and out, homie,
T. Dizzle

Dear Diary,

This morning my brain is totally on shut down. I'm not depressed anymore or anything, I'm just really, truly asleep. Seriously. Whenever I shut my eyes even for a few seconds I start dreaming. I can hear the dreams in the back of my head when my eyes are open, and I'm trying so hard to focus on staying awake. It was a fun drive to work this morning, let me tell you.

Know what else I can't understand? Why on earth did I agree to teach private lessons after work on Fridays? It makes me tired just thinking about it- a full day of work with NO LUNCH, then two private piano lessons, then run home to get my costume and dash back to church to paint faces for the trunk or treat festival. Too much running around to really enjoy anything.

The one good thing is that Saturday I only have to teach one lesson. Woot.

The one bad thing is that on Fridays I have to see every class. EVERY class. Ugh.

More likely than not, I will be back here before midnight hits, so get ready for it- whether you like it or not.

Laterz, foo'
Yo' Boo

Dear Diary,

I know what you're thinking. I'm a flipping psychopath- hello- this is post number three in one day. But anyway.

Rehearsal was actually amazing. I came in late, stressed, and upset. We started singing "I am a Friend of God" which, of course, made me think of Debbie. I sang my lungs out just about all practice. I just about needed to.

But the best part came after the choir left. I got to work on the solo I'm singing this Sunday in the sanctuary. At first I really didn't listen to the words, and I didn't want to. I didn't mean them. But when I started paying attention to them, somewhere between talking with the music pastor about whether to use straight timing or free pulse, more chest voice or more head voice... I started to let go of that little thing that had been nagging me. It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. Who cares what she said? Who cares how he feels about me? And most importantly, who cares what they think? I was chosen, and I was made to sing.

Music is a vital part of my soul like black is a vital part of the dark. And tonight, I sang, and it was good. I'm finally looking forward to Sunday and nothing can shake that from me.

Through all of my insanely mood-swingy snarkiness, I have been keeping up with my daily readings, although not paying as much attention as I probably should. Tonight I read the Daleth portion of Psalm 119, and it was like I had never read it before. The thing that really jumped out at me was verse 32: "I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free."

Insanely cool.

Oh, and yeah, I'm a Christian. If that bothers you, maybe you should ask yourself why. I may be all snarky to you, but that's because you're inanimate and I can vent all my frustrations. But at least I'm real, unlike most everybody else in their wannabe perfect families and houses. Pfff. They're so wonky it's uncouth.

Chill out mah nizzle,
~The Rain~

Dear Diary,

I really don't know why I'm so freakin' cheerful even when I feel so upset. I also don't know why I'm back here, talking to you, again. Don't go and get all offended or anything.

I just finished teaching a private piano lesson and eating a slice of the dance department fund-raiser cheesecake. I didn't think I liked cheesecake, but I was wrong. This stuff is addictively amazing. It's a good thing I only bought one. And for the record, no, I wasn't eating the cheesecake WHILE I was teaching the lesson. That would've been rude. I just had to satisfy myself with thinking about the cheesecake.

My life is sad.

And no, I don't weigh a million pounds, thank you very much. I don't need your judging attitude OR your hefty imagination. Most people think I'm average weight and some people even say I'm skinny. So take that, lofty digital diary of tactlessness. Ha!

Again, totally not wanting to go to rehearsal tonight, but only because I know it'll last until about 10 o'clock and I seriously need my sleep. If not, I will get seriously silly which will NOT be a good thing come tomorrow when I'm surrounded by a motly crew of hyper and surly teenagers. How they pull off being hyper AND surly at the same time, I will never know. It's one of the great mysteries of the universe, like cheese. I mean, who thought eating dried up, crusty, milk mold would actually be a good idea? And worse yet, where is the cosmic justice in the fact that the yahoo who did it was rewarded by being right???

Know what else doesn't make sense? Traffic light colors. Red is totally a rage color. Heat, energy, fast. You know? And so red has this sense of motion and anger and push. So obviously, when there's a red traffic light we STOP. I guess it's because having to stop instead of going where we want to go makes people angry. But even if that were true, then why is green 'go'? I mean, isn't green the color of grass? Grass grows pretty dang slow to me. Green should be stop, red should be go, and don't even get me started on yellow.

What?

Ok, ok. Yellow should totally mean it's time for a potty break. I mean, hello??

Goodbye.
~me~

Dear Diary,

I have a killer stomach ache, and I know, you were dying to know that. I've got a full day of work today, and I just finished grading a stack of papers that went right up to my ears. Ok, maybe it didn't really, but there was a ton of it. I brought my ipod to work and have been listening to it while I was grading and it made it go lightening quick. It's comforting to have around. I think I should marry it.

It's also useful to drown out the Xmas music the orchestra is squealing out next door. I heart my ipod. Seriously. Have you heard a drowning cat, I mean high school violin player???

I have lunch duty today. Let me tell you how much fun that is- staring at high schoolers eat and socialize and be more beautiful than I ever will be. And more happy, too. And with more talent, dreams, and hope than I could ever, well, hope to have.

I only have one hope today, one thing to look forward to. It's silly, really, but I hope he'll call. It was nice having someone who would take the time out to think of me. And when he said he had my song stuck in his head all week, well, it was touching. It's probably the closest I'll ever get to taking over somebody else's head.

I don't really know what I meant by that.

I really don't want the kids to come in here next. This is my planning, my sanctuary. Soon enough they will be jostling in, mocking me, being all cool and gorgeous and defiant. And I will be me, struggling for a small sense of my rightful power over them, a power that age should naturally give me, but that physcial appearances robs me of time and time again.

I wonder if he loves me. Maybe he'll come to practice tonight. He probably won't.

I do still hope he calls. Maybe. I want to tell him everything she said, but maybe it would be too weird. I don't know. I guess I'll find out.

I do apologize for the vague references, but you'll have to just deal with it, honestly. It takes me a long time to fully trust somebody, and I don't know you well enough to tell you any more than I already have. In fact, I've already told you much too much, but that's just how I am.

Peace out, son,
The Quake

Dear Diary,

Rehearsal was awful. I felt awkward the whole time and towards the end it was all I could do to stay awake.

Worse yet, I think she's trying to manipulate him. I remember her telling me she has struggles with being manipulative and those little things she does are all intentional. It wasn't so bad when she was interested in someone else. But no. Tonight she was purposefully sitting by him, letting him drink from her water bottle, making more harmony parts for herself so that he would compliment her singing.

Or maybe I'm just crazy, paranoid, and overreacting.

It doesn't help that I have a chorus in the back of my head that keeps repeating over and over: it's my mom telling me that he should be my boyfriend and if only I were prettier...

It wouldn't frustrate me so much if he weren't so egalitarian towards all of us.

You know what? He really isn't all that amazing. I don't snarking care anymore. I just wanna sleep and not hate myself at night.

Oh yeah. And not be alone. Right, right, nice, nice.


Peace out ma' shizzle,
Ovah-drive

Dear Diary,

I'm going to be honest. I'm not going to be regular about this posting thing at all. Well, maybe I lied. I'll be an obsessive poster for a very short period of time. Then, I'll doubtlessly get distracted by something much newer, shinier, and interesting. I will love you passionately and leave you in the digital dust, clinging to the shreds of my memory.

I have an issue with commitment, ok?

But maybe that's alright- it's only because the world seems to have an issue with commitment when it comes to me. They only love you when you're beauitful, and you're only beautiful when they can use you. Scratch out all those "you"s in the previous sentence and replace them with "me"s. I don't feel like going back and editing this, so what you get is what comes out of my fingers, directly.

I'm also listening to my ipod on shuffle while I'm typing this, so if you smell any weird and wildly different changes in mood--- that's it. I'm a musician. Music does that to me. Well, I suppose it does it to everyone who hears and has a somewhat functioning brain, but take that, multiply it by a million, and that's what it does to me. Yeah. Not so much fun.

So I've got this rehearsal tonight, and I really don't want to go. I mean I do and I don't. I feel all squirmy and weird inside. Ha, you have no clue what I'm talking about, do you? Tough. Maybe you'll find out later.

Peace out, yo.
Da Shivers