Detour

The past few days have been ultimatley out of this world.

I'm not sure I have enough stamina to think of all of it all over again so I can put it here, but I have to organize this somehow so it will get out of my head.

Friday.

Officially one of the most emotional days of my life. I haven't cried that much in so so long, and I have never, ever in my life cried that much in front of so many people.

It felt amazing.

It felt amazing because there were so many emotions running down my face with those tears. I was somber the entire ceremony, but the second Emilio's mom's voice began to shake, I started crying. And Kyle's letter, that is when I completley lost it. My entire frame was shaking from the strain I was putting on myself to slow the tears and calm my sobs, and it worked a little bit towards the end. And then everything stopped.

Everyone got up from the bleachers and started walking away, the parents all got up and started walking towards their children, and I was just standing there on the edge of the bleachers hesitating. All I wanted was to get to them.

Thinking about it now it must have looked like I was lost, and I sort of felt that way too, gripping my own hands and twisting around until I finally saw Ben hugging Olivia. We looked at eachother and were just gone. He broke away from her, saying my name and grabbing me, and it took me about five whole seconds to realize we were both sobbing into each other's shirts. And we just stood there like that for a good, solid minute. Nothing was even going on in my head, I just let myself feel that he was there. Once we composed ourselves and parted I got my bone crushing hug from Kyle, which I'd been waiting two days for. And then there was a dizzying search for Caylen, and all I can gather of it is turning around to see her coming at me, a complete and utter mess, and then a lot more hugging and a lot more crying. Of course, I do recall telling her never to do that to me again and about how angry I was at her, but the rest of the time passed by in a flurry of group embraces and hand holding and long sighs.

That was only the beginning of my Friday.
It proceeded with Jews. Rochel Leah (laugh if you must, but that's her name) turned 16 today, and we had a big slumber Sabbath to commemorate. (Yah, Jews have Sabbath Friday night through Saturday, and don't forget it.)
As I was saying.
There were ten girls, nine of which are orthodox to a certain point, some more than others, and then little old public school boy-touching, mini skirt-wearing, cheeseburger-eating me. It was fun, and standard, until Rochel Leah, Shira and I decided to rebel and walk the mile or so to the boys house. The boys, being 5 of my best friends, somewhat orthodox, and having penises, are a restriction when with more than half of these 9 other Jews.
It's a good thing then, that those Jews with restrictions know that RL, Shira and I do not care.
So we left around 11:30, said we were going on a walk, though the rest of them had their suspicions, and trekked across Oak Park. I was barefoot, because I'm stupid, and it was freezing. Anyway, really long story short, we walked back a little over an hour later, only to find the entire house locked. We then proceeded to walk to the boys house again, which would then be about our fourth mile, stayed over there, got found out by their mother, slept like an hour, and then woke up at 7 to walk all the way back to the house, and take a detour to avoid being seen by everyone walking to temple.
We got lucky and the back door was opened earlier so the dog could get out.
I gained two freezing, pock-marked feet, and an appreciation for blankets, shoes, cars, locks, keys, houses, just, everything.

My weekend has been absurd.
And now I am watching Harry Potter, outraged at the premiere date for Half Blood Prince.
Lord Have Mercy.
I love everyone.

Sunscreen Chap

Sunburned lips.
A whole two minutes of my day was dedicated to pondering sunburned lips today. And as I write this and realize that sunburnt is in no way a real word, now I'm spending time dedicated to pondering why not. Because I think it's quite clear that sunburnt lips sounds better than sunburned lips, not that either sound good in the sense of feeling good, rather the former is just more pleasant to the ear.
That is my conclusion.

On to actual things.

The school play was pretty good. Kind of okay. Ben's physical comedy is just above and beyond all the acting is all, but that could be good or bad depending on how you look at it. If you enjoy seeing tall, lanky black men in pink feather boas I suggest you go see it.

basics iono.

I just checked my email, which is a rare occurrence, considering all the myspacing and facebooking and aiming and blogging and texting and calling and jazz. But I hate it. I hate it because I love letters. The real kind, too. The kind you get in those boxes sprouting from the ground outside the front of your house, you know? The ones that big boxy white car occasionally stops in front of and opens to generously supply you with bills and advertisements?
I WANT LETTERS.
I remember being little and oh so excited to walk down my gravely and cracked drive way down to the mailbox and bring the mail to my Momma, and then the one time a year I'd get anything I would always get angry with her if she opened it first. So all these years I've honest to god been depressed that I never get anything in the mail, except for the postcards Olivia sends me every summer from where ever she is in Europe, and now I don't get email either.
IT WAS EMPTY. EVEN MY EMAIL WAS EMPTY.
like my life.

wow emo child.


iwantlettersmorethaniwanttomeetjimhalpert.
wait, no that was a lie.
but i want them lots.

Haar is Not My Daddy.

Though I like Mr. Haar and his class, he is really getting increasingly weird.
Yesterday he said something along the following:
"If anyone asks you who your dad is, you tell them, MR. HAAR IS MY DADDY!"
Ooookay. Weird, weird, weird.

Well my days are falling under a dreadful pattern. I wish I could drive so so so so so badly. I want to just get up and take off and drive to the beach just so I can listen to Sufjan and Death Cab and Iron & Wine for hours on end without interruption. Or even just just around town, blasting music and singing along and stopping at random places I've never been and scope them out for future reference.
More than I wish I could do all those things myself though, I wish someone would take me to do them. I wish I could drive for a long time and let good conversation fill up the days and the nights and let soothing music full up the occasional silences, or even the other way around.

I think the conclusion is that out of all the things going on in my schedule right now, I'd love to minimize everything but the good conversations and the music. In fact, I'd love to maximize the conversations and the music, more more more more more.

TAKE ME FOR A DRIVE.