Hooplah.Org

I just blew up at Alan. I mean, really. I just get so furious sometimes. I can’t even talk to him anymore during the week. Having some form of contact with him means everything to me, and I really have no choice to be ok with not having it. Tonight, we were supposed to be able to spend the afternoon talking. I got off work an hour early, and when I got home, Alan informed me that his parents were talking him out to dinner and a movie, to celebrate him getting a (anchoring) new job. He made a comment, “i never get to go out or do anything with my parents, though.” I responded, “Yeah, there are many things you never get to do.” He had to leave at 6 to do this thing with his parents, and said we had an hour to talk. That seems so nice, but he always defines how long we have to talk. Almost as if he values the time, and plans to take up every minute of it with enlightening conversation. Yet, he never does. This time, he spent a large hunk of our hour of talking time talking to someone who came to his front door – and they were there to see his sister, not him. I was left waiting in front of my lap top, IMing him “Please, pretty please” for him to talk to me. Alan always does this. There’s always something more interesting to do, like fixing his computer, or cleaning his room, or something, all while he is proclaiming that this time for us to talk. It’s like I’m not interesting enough. I fussed at him for always saying “sorry”, and for always having a reason to say it. I told him I was sick of hearing that word all the time, like a quick excuse. If you’re so sorry, then why do you do it again and again? I asked him, “How can conversation in a relationship mean to little to you?” He didn’t answer it. He just apologized for being such a horrible boyfriend. Then he left for the thing with his parents. I told him to have a great time.

I’ve been in such a horrible mood. I’m not in the mood to write anything because of it. There are things I would like to write about, but… I just can’t now.

It’s good to know that she has a good outlook from the doctor. I hope everything goes well for her tomorrow (or, is it today?), too.

I was hit on twice today, by good/old friends. Well, “hit on” is real a sleazy word, complete with bad pick up lines. I guess it wasn’t quite like that.

Jason, for instance, never really “knew” me. I just had my first major sexual encounter with him. (Which happened during class, with everyone walking around… rather racy, if I say so myself.) Jason… Is the perfect picture of an arrogant jock. In freshman year, the only reason why he decided to even flirt with me was because I came to school in white pants and a sweater; something that fit more into the “prep” style of clothing. Of course, it did not last; he said he “liked” me, yet would never even speak to me in the hallways, and would walk right past me. That summer he got into a car accident, killing two of my childhood friends, and almost killing himself. Everyone refurs to him as a “murder” now, or, at least the people whom I talk to. I would feel sorry for Jason if it wasn’t for the fact that he is more arrogant and perverted as ever. He lives rather close to my house, and rides the same bus as me (or, would, if we both didn’t have other modes of transportation…)

Anyway. I also have second period with him. Sandy asked me to sit beside her in Government, since the class period was basically shot from taking senior pictures. I did, but that seat also happens to be in front of Jason. When he came in, he made a comment about how I didn’t get his permission to sit in that seat, jokingly, of course. He said I had his permission anyway, and sat behind me, and proceeded to put his feet in the basket under my chair, wiggling his feet around. I hate that. But, anyway, the class had round down while we were waiting to be dismissed to take the senior group picture. Somehow, Jason chipped in and asked me, “So are you still engaged?” I looked at him oddly, and asked him where he heard that from. When me and Alan first started talking about marriage, I went ahead and told everyone who asked that I was engaged. I suppose Jason heard a chain of that when it was going around, although he said he couldn’t recall who told him. We talked some small talk, all the while with Sandy and another girl named Nichole in the conversation. Some how Jason slipped in that if anything went wrong with me and Alan, I could go to his house, since I knew where it was. It was a joke, but something that Jason would not usually say to me, if anything at all. Yeah.

The other was a guy named James. James, is, well… A weird topic. I met him last year during a computer class, that I also had with Stephen. At first, it was just me and Stephen playing around in this class, goofing around rather loudly. Sooner or later, James started hanging with our group. We were a completely perverted group, but at the time, it worked out “perfectly;” We were all with other people, so it was “alright” for us to mess around in class pervertly, because we all had other commitments that we held high devotion too. The three of us called ourselves the “love right triangle,” as an inside joke. When the class ended, I did not have much contact with James. But, Jennifer, Stephen’s girlfriend at the time, took advantage of the situation. (Or, I believe that was her real motive.) Sometime in late February, right after Alan had broken up with me, the three of them (Jennifer, Stephen, and James) called me from Jennifer’s cell phone, asking if I could go out that afternoon. I started crying, telling Stephen about my recent heat break, and declined. Later that night, Stephen called me to ask about the break up, but also to inform me of what the three of them that did that afternoon: an orgy. Yeah.

To make an even longer story short, James still had his girlfriend during this time. Even through my attempts to inform Misty (James’s girlfriend) of the atrocity that James did behind her back, which happened numerous times, she refused to believe anything. Jennifer refused to confess anything, and she broke up with Stephen shortly after prom, after she had gotten the taste of another guy, which (I think) is just what she wanted. So, anyway…

While entering the old gym to take senior pictures, I saw James. I was talking to him, and he noticed that I did not have my “I love Alan” necklace that he knew me to wear a year ago. I told him the metal on it started to act funny, and was making my skin itch, so I stopped wearing it. He said, “Oh, because I was hoping..” He trailed off, but I asked about Misty, and he told me that they were having some problems, and he was giving her space. That was probably a joke, also, but it was interesting. James, according to Stephen, had it bad for me sometime early this year. I would have taken advantage of it after Alan threw me away, but I did not like his actions with Stephen and Jennifer, which were all behind his current girlfriend’s back. Not really worth it, if you ask me.

Goodness. Could have I written anymore this afternoon? I just wanted to vent out some shit. It has felt good. I’ll have to do it more. I think I’ve missed it.

I haven’t played The Sims in a while. Maybe I should. It might improve my mood. I could do the GOBS of Chemistry worksheets that I know I should do. I need to read the book, because I’ve heard that that will help me on the test :ehh: Yeah.

Today was the senior class picture. It was one of those group events that I just love; All of us together, this big, threatening body. I just love that kind of stuff, things that involve my class. I become very frustrated with people who are like, “I hate all of those people,” and purposely try to avoid any school activity to exercise their protest. I can’t stand that. The people you go to school with resemble something like your family, or at least they will for my theory. You may hate people in your family, but you’re stuck with them. You can’t change them or who they are, and it’s almost a pointless effort to try to detach yourself from them. It’s the same with your peers. You cannot control the fact that you are grouped with these people. You have memories of them, and they have memories of you. I just don’t see the point. I was explaining this to Stephen in the car yesterday, who is one of the types of “protestors.” He echoed my point much clearer than I could explain it, because I am horrible with words. But I think it’s understandable when I say it, at least.

They called the seniors for their pictures around 10:10 AM, even though they were not ready for us in the old gym yet. So, we all just grouped in the main lobby, completely covering it with people and loud talking. When me and Sandy came in the lobby, I looked for Carl‘s head over the crowed, which I saw, and saw flashes of Lindsay‘s red shirt near him. Me and Sandy walked over to them, and soon after they approached, my old friend Theresa came over to us. We were very good friends in 8th grade, much like me and Sandy are now, but when she failed a grade, we completely lost contact. She never even spoke to me in the hallways. But, of course, when she skips a grade to graduate early, she immediately tries to cling to me again. It was a tad uncomfortable, to say the least.

Taking the picture was fun, to say the least. I was a little offended at how Lindsay and Carl took their seats. They separated from me and Sandy, and picked a spot without waiting for us. In some ways, I think Lindsay and Carl as a group try to avoid me. Not something I couldn’t understand. So, anyway, me and Sandy picked out Stephen, and sat my them. I ended up sitting in front of Stephen, and sitting in between his knees, since the bleachers were obviously made for a smaller generation of people, because everyone’s knees were jabbed into everyone else’s backs due to the small space.

The photographer was a little.. Slow. It took him a while to get the camera and everything set up, which wasn’t really a problem with the seniors, who were missing classes like English and Government. But, I soon realized why the seniors usually have such stupid looks on their faces in these photos. The photographer told us he would take the picture on the count of three, and he took the picture right when he said “3.” Usually you’re supposed to wait. And there was one time, he counted all the way to three, and something went wrong with the camera. So, the whole class started laughing, and relaxing. Stephen did something dumb with his knees, and I reached up toward them, which were near my shoulders. And of course, this was when the photographer finally got all his shit together, and snapped the picture. There was a growl of disgust over us, which would be expected.

I’m just wasting time. Time for The Sims.