tell me everything
i want to know everything about everything

I got kicked out of band last night because I don't have the class
and I had dressed like an emo
because it was picture day
and nobody recognized me
Wasiq didn't want to sit with me
but then laughed a lot
when he realized it was me
and nobody said hi to me in the halls
because they didn't know it was me
and that it was okay to say hi
because it's a tough decision
who to say hi to

and I was dressed like an emo
when D told me I couldn't be in band anymore
and he told me it wasn't his decision
and I wanted to scream BULLSHIT
and cry
and run away
but I asked whose decision it was
and he said the guidance counselor and principal
which is a lie
but we'll take it to a higher fight
so I walked away
and I cried a little bit
and the kids on the drumline bus wondered what had happened
and Mike and Rose texted me all night
and Mike cried during saints
when there was no one to yell with
and he teared up during the songs
when nobody was dancing
and I went to the game anyway
dressed like an emo
and nobody knew me
and I teared up when I heard saints
and I teared up when Mike texted me
and Rose texted me
and it wasn't the same
and then I visited them during third quarter
and Mike hugged me for a long time
because he was my freshman buddy

after I got home
I texted Jeff
and I told him that I couldn't be in band anymore and that I went down on Fava on Wednesday and that I talked to Jimmy and it was awkward and that I missed talking to him (Jeff)
and he said
"I've been feeling generally unhappy and uninterested in life. Sorry to hear about band. miss you too"
and I thought maybe he was joking
because it was emo day
so I took a picture of me dressed like an emo
captioned
"that hurt"
and he didn't respond for a minute
and then ten minutes
and I wondered maybe he wasn't joking
and I cried
because all he said was "sorry about band"
the activity that I'd been in since my freshman year
meant so much to me
introduced me to him
and to Viv
and pancakes
and pit parties
and my whole life
was that band
and he said "sorry to hear about band"
and I cried

Matt and I haven't been good friends for a while
I haven't had a class with him for two years
our senior class picture was Wednesday
and afterwards we had all the "friend" pictures
and I didn't belong in any of them
there is no group I belong with
I had people to stand with
and I got in a few photos
but I didn't belong there
it made me feel very, very alone
Matt dressed like Waldo
because it was a senior prank we came up with when we were still BFFs
and Kingsboro made him take his hat off

I got on the "WOW" fridge of the annoying new art teacher for color and 2D and we all talk about how they basically replaced Las with young and annoying Las
she called my house
to tell my parents I was doing an outstanding job
and my dad wasn't hoe
*home
and she didn't call again or leave a message

my sweater smells like smoke
because we had a bonfire pit party last Saturday
and Mike and Rose and Mason S. came
and it was an awesome party
really splendid and fun and a great kick off
and then afterwards
it was Matt, Stasi, Katie R., and Nick K.
and the last two were dating
and awful
and about to end their relationship
(they did today)
and Katie was annoying and overconfident in her abilities and Nick doesn't belong and kept talking and Stasi listend and responded and Matt and I stared at the fire
and Stasi, being perceptive, noticed, and asked us
and Matt said we were the last kids truly in the pit
and I wanted him to say it
because I had kept thinking it
how he is Jeff
and I am Viv without cooking and a little bit Jeff
and how things haven't been the same


and I looked at all of Jeff's old pictures today
from that party
at the D.'s
when it snowed like ice
and we ran outside
and played bear in the east
and sledded to katie r.'s
when she was still fun
and tore up her yard
and almost fell into the ravine
and I loved Matt then
and he didn't love Kacey yet
and JoeKat loved Gina
and she loved him too
and we were all friends
and Trisha was still invited to parties and part of our school
sometimes, I think she is really lonely too

thank you for being my confessional

always.

Found Out Today

Today was, if all efforts fail,
the last day I had the right to call myself a GV band kid.
Thanks for the adventure.

Today was, if all efforts fail,
the day I began planning.
Thanks for giving me something else to do on Wednesdays.

Today was, if all efforts succeed,
the first day of many football games.
Thanks for the freedom.

We Will No on Saturday

My dad compared the level of my brother's science class to:
"dissecting insects with a hammer."

Yesterday, we had the interesting free write prompt in English,
"What makes someone popular?"

"ps- if you ever change your mind, you are always welcome back."
-text

I went back to the land of my last childhood "best friend" summer.

My dad saw me crying, keeping my head up,
and decided to fight my battle for me.

Bring on the eye liner, Dan G.'s pants, and Abby's music.
Tomorrow is picture day.

Jumping to Conclusions

I hate you.

I hate your incompetence, your ignorance, your selfish jealousy.

I hate your attitude.

I hate what you have done to my life, the things you don't realize.

I hate that you didn't consider the consequences.

I hate how you hurt me, because I let myself care.

she sings/and sang/now you

We are all such accidents. We do not make up history and culture. We simply appear, not by our own choice. We make what we can of our condition with the means available. We must accept the mixture as we find it — the impurity of it, the tragedy of it, the hope of it.
-Saul Bellows




I have now have Concert Band, BDF, 1st period, 2nd semester, complemented by Strength and Conditioning with Mrs. Knox. I'm excited to see Mrs. Knox again, but I might skip every day of band, take the F and the Saturdays.

'Missed you guys! :D The "welcome back" hugs were phenomenal. Simply showing up has never felt more like "suck it. suck it. just... suck it." *insert Godzilla roar and arm flail*

I have Physics with Gary and Dan S. I'm delighted and displeased.

Not learning in art, but still learning oodles in other classes, though the work is catching up with me as the courses really start.

Robotics Animation is AWESOME! I'm learning there too. :]

Kira and I went to the car show. It was cold. There were cars. Also, best group project ever with many inside jokes. Our table in English is by far the most diverse/best group.

p.s. I was 99% right about my previous prediction, but she said no (internally, I threw up my hands filled with confetti and wore a party hat).

Stream of Consciousness: Overwhelmed

oh and i'm shaking and weeping not for the past in sadness but truth and beauty and fragility and that my future will repeat the past and is doomed to repeat and I love you and him so much and there's so much and I can't hold on the desk isn't solid and breathing out making everything tighter and it's so full and so loud and so quiet and the light is flashing and tears are blurring and everything is beautiful and nothing hurt and I wanted them to leave before you did and it's slipping and everything's slipping but into something cool and calm and I enjoy the ride and the loss and the shaking and somber and I didn't turn on the light and I've cried so much on this desk and there's soot on my face and my hair and my clothes and always in my hair and Jimmy can smell it and I wonder if they wonder and it was so perfect and content and this is what it should be and we are the last and it's not coming out right and I can't force it out and it's all building up and silent and terrible and so much shaking and god, it was so beautiful it made me cry and overwhelming and I cannot touch him and I cannot touch him and I will not touch him and he will not see me and I am scared to see him and I'm scared for his life and I'm scared for letting them down and seeing them hurt. So much love and truth and beauty. It's not enough, this isn't helping. I cannot be Viv. I cannot give them so much happiness. They're speaking through me because they shaped me because I didn't have a choice, but I did and I love who I am I love who I am I love who I am you are in opposition to everything we stand for. You are ugliness and lies and stupidity and fuck fuck fuck fuck so much anger for your everything and for making fun of him and not standing up for him, but I wouldn't associate myself with him, he's weird. Augh. Please please please let me let me let me get what I want Viv is Summer and I love summer and I am alive in the summer and I made him alive and I weep and breathe and cry and take in the air and there are tears and I exhale. So much love, it's overwhelming. So much time and memory. I felt beautiful today and I'm going extinct.

"My Little Brother"

He's taller than me and has been for a long time now. The center in a cult of personality, he's magnetic, a clever kid who passes gracefully through the hoops of social circles. As his sister, I am utterly possessed by the notion, "He is the good kid. He is the smart one. He does not succumb to peer pressure; he is the peer pressure, hopefully not for devious intent." Despite his academic performance, he's not dumb. In no aspect is he stupid, though sometimes he plays the part. Like any human, he changes depending on who is surrounded by. The tone of voice, his words, they change instantly when our conversation is interrupted by a phone call. Youth nurtures his casual and indestructible persona, complemented by negligence and an infallibility complex. I worry. Over and over and over, I repeat that my fear is to see him die an untimely death. Tonight, he told me he is going to fight another kid. I don't worry about this fight. He has honor and general opinion on his side. We stood talking, him casually framed in silhouetted by the darkened laundry room, wearing boxers and jeans. I had never noticed that he is quite literally "jacked." The weight set in his room is not for show. The nightly crunches are not mythical. He is much older than I remember him, so much cooler than me.

We are so similar in our potential, so different in the expression of those ambitions.

"La la la, words, la, words"

When I was newly welcomed into this world, my room was the one currently occupied by my brother. I more remember this as a fact, rather than memories of actually staying and sleeping in the room before being relocated to my current residence. However, I do remember that in the corner by the window, there was a rocking chair. It was very rounded, with a wooden frame and arm rests, covered by some thin fabric upholstery. My mom used to sing to us or read us stories as we sat in her lap. In my head, I also remember my dad would sometimes be the provider of stories and lap space, but this may be inaccurate. Either by time casting a warm glow on the past, or by the power of a nightlight, all of these memories recall the lighting as a dim, yellow-orange light. When it was absolutely, last-call time for bed, we would get one reprieve; nobody had to go to bed until the last note of Amazing Grace was finished. This did not manifest itself in a desperate, "slow as possible" rendition, but that the last note was to be held out as long as our little lungs could. Mom always won.

......... ............... .........

On the way to preschool as a toddler, my mother would sing with me in the car. Zip-a-Dee Doo Dah leading into You Are My Sunshine. After my brother was born, she commenced teaching us Hort v Kloop d'Kinderen, a Dutch Christmas song of dubious spelling, to imbibe us with a little bit of cultural heritage. I still remember the words and fondly recited them for Mr. Geating's algebra class upon being caught late once in the holiday season. It is my current recollection that Jack never quite remembered all the lyrics, even in the time we sang it every day.

......... ............... .........

Freshman year, everything was bright with the adoration of naivity. It was the first time I had heard Ben Folds or the Dresden Dolls. I finally learned the words to Hallelujah beyond the chorus. Prior to that year, I sang a little, but hardly ever by myself in public. The sound of my voice, as it remains today, verged slightly upon the adjective "unpleasant." Beyond fear of criticism, I'm not entirely sure why I was reluctant to sing. Singing is such an intimate action, I was surprised and in awe of this group that let boys and girls sing real songs on real buses in real public spaces. We all knew the words by heart, and then opened those hearts to each other when we opened our mouths. It was very much a cult of personality. The year Jeff graduated was the year Viv went to prom and never came home again. The next year, singing was done at the oversight of Jeremy or Schade, "80s" (while rockin', still restrictive). Now, there are two years that don't know the words to Hallelujah or Freshmen, one year reluctant to sing, and one year who can't reclaim the harmonies of the past.

......... ............... .........

This summer, I snuck out with Nick F. We drove around some, walked around some, and talked quite consistently through the early hours of the morning. Nearing 4 AM, it was decided that to avoid the possibility of a night into morning conflict with parents, we should be at our respective homes by 5 AM, so we returned to the car. First, we listened to the psychadelic rock of Vanilla Fudge and Deep Purple, followed by the vocalized instrumental "Regatta de Blanc" by The Police. Parading through unmarked CDs of funk and indie, we stumbled upon the ultimate playlist genre. "Cheese." The first sweet notes brought to our ears on this CD may well have been the opening drum beats from "Never Gonna Give You Up." Delighted and immediately fascinated by this discovery, we eventually struck upon "Amazed" by Lonestar. The mildly twangy crooning sang over sweet and sappy piano was laughable and inappropriate for the moment, and still, we persisted. Growing to the chorus, I hummed the words I did not know and quietly mouthed the ones I did. Nick, fantastic vocalist that he is, started belting. I could not rightfully leave him hanging when it was obvious I knew the words to the chorus. The strangest 4AM sing-along completed, I nearly laughed 'til I cried, or at least until I got home.

It's Gonna Be a Long Walk Home

I went to a church today for the first time several years.

I could remembered being the person who held their hands up to "feel God."

The speaker talked about creationism, specifically mentioning how plants "defy gravity" by being able to draw water from the ground. I realize that it is currently unexplained, but it made me realize that religion used to be able to claim anything mysterious as a miracle of God.

I walked home. Luckily, it had stopped raining.

I hadn't walked in a while.

"Oh, lovely. How ugly."

Good ideas for my Color/2D notebook cover didn't go so well.
Individually, the pieces are perfect.
Together, it's very messy.

The Number Translation I Forgot to Look For

"
When I got off the plane, after eleven hours of travel and forty years away, the man took my passport and asked me the purpose of my visit, I wrote in my daybook, “To mourn”, and then, “To mourn try to live,” he gave me a look and asked if I would consider that business or pleasure, I wrote, “Neither.” “For how long do you plan to mourn and try to live?” I wrote, “For the rest of my life.”
"

I may re-read this before I give the book back to Viv. She finally got around to answering my Facebook message today, ironically, the first day of senior year.
It made me smile and cry.
Oh.
Contradiction.

"the Only Thing more Fleeting than Summer is Childhood"

It's been a while since I've been able to coherently express my uncensored thoughts in one continuous paragraph. This block is not for lack of material. My summer was full of wild adventure, soft moments, and a strong sense of close camaraderie. Some of the adventures I did not write about because everyone I want to share them with was there, or they are very personal. Earlier, my tender moments incited brash anger and sadness. I have no desire to recount my warm meshing of personality or guilty conflict of logic and emotion in a public forum. For all of the turmoil, this summer is another large and brilliant pearl layered of memories, strung along the collection of lovely seasons I have been through. Ever since I was little, I strongly associated myself with summer. Now, I make the flattering comparison of warmth and freedom, trying new things. I sang this summer, played guitar, listened to different music, read books that moved me to tears and to action, went skinny dipping in the ocean (twice), screamed, felt more connected and accepted than in any previous experiences, lazily floated down the Brandywine, jumped off the rope swing, talked about math, talked about science, geohashed, dressed up like a pirate, had a summer romance, went on roller coasters, rode Ferris wheels, watched stars, fires, and fireflies, smelled like smoke, climbed trees, even messed around in Wal*Mart.

"just the smell of summer can make me fall in love..."
-Modest Mouse

Recent Developments: I make a friend

Sup, babe? I got fast fingers and a good grasp of adjectives. What do you say to some explicit communications via text message?
-me

Hahahahahahaha i love you!
-Girl!

I'm not looking for commitment. I never said anything about love except the hot, sweet physical kind. Hope your night with Stasi is deep and emotion delving!

I wanna lick your sweet adverb dripping body.

Hahaha. I am scandalized by how quickly this friendship turned physical. But I admit, I was only in this for your adverb adjective body and your adjective wit.

Haha. Chloe. Lets be friends.

I heartily endorse that statement. I would invited you over for a sleepover and pillow fight or what not, but neither of us has finished our summerwork.
-Chloe, end communication

"when I am 24, I will tell people I am 4!"

I make my brother out to be such a badass, which he is, of course, but it makes all of my friends want to meet him. I think he's too cool for most of us.

When I have my silver studs in and a bandanna on to hold back my hair, I feel almost sorta like a badass.

I downloaded some Weezer today. My impression of them would be so much better if their first song I heard wasn't Beverly Hills.

I have eaten more food while outside of my home (mostly Stasi's and bandcamp) than I have in my house since Thursday.

On the AP Lit. journal requirements sheet, it says, "It's More then Just Rain." I think it's a grammar mistake, but it might not be.

[Edit: C&H Depressing comic week is really good at owning up to its title.]

Emoticon: Words, Words, Words

Our new fridge is too warm to keep milk safe and the freezer is not cold enough to keep popsicles frozen. Right now, we have our old fridge set up in the barn and my dad says, "...it makes me feel like a hillbilly, but at least it's not out on the porch."

Thusly, this evening, as I ventured upon a short jaunt into the night to fetch some milk fo' milk and coo-kays, I stepped on a slug. It was big. And, it was sticky.

On Saturday, I told the freshman what Katie wishes she had been able to.

I've gotten so much better at guitar since I start pwn'ing bar chords.

Because I was invited to sing at the talent show, I figured I should probably figure out what my voice sounds like. I started recording myself singing songs within my vocal range, and it's easier to figure out how to fix the way things sound now. I'm almost starting to not dislike my singing voice.

Hot Knives has been promoted to one of my favorite Bright Eyes songs because I can play it and sing it, and some of the lyrics remind me of who I wish I was.

All through the summer I've developed many varied and new friendships. They're not permanent yet, I know, but it's still a fascinating group of interrelated people who all talk about each other.

I've finally found a group of girls who I enjoy talking about sex with. It's finally girls who know, enjoy, and understand.

Last year, I promised my teachers that I would write them appreciation letters. I even handed out "IOUs." Unfortunately, while I still appreciate them, I haven't put it into words yet...

Roughly a quarter of the times I get ready for bed at night I think, "Barely seventeen and barely dressed..."

Words I wrote on my hand today: "Tonton Marcoute" and "blephanoplasty."

[Edit:
"I call on you not to hate because hate does not leave a space for a person to be fair and it makes you blind and closes all doors of thinking and keeps away one from balanced thinking and making the right choice. I also call on you not to hate the peoples of the other countries that attacked us and differentiate between the decision-makers and peoples. Anyone who repents... you must forgive him."

The previous are words taken from the last letter of an important political leader and humanitarian. He advocated free, modernized health care, free education, and a diversified national infrastructure campaign, winning an award from the United Nations Education, Science, and Cultural Organization for his work. He never met his father, his only older brother died of cancer at age 13, despite this, still managed to achieve one of the most prominent roles in international government in recent years. It's funny the things I didn't know about Saddam Hussein because I was close minded.]

Chloe Waits...

During the late summer of the last four years, as it got closer to 9:30, I began to dread the end of band practice. Aimless milling about is uncomfortable for me; I am not good at conversing. While I don't really like it, I usually have fun and get to hug people. The worst is waiting for my dad to come. I'm consistently one of the last kids waiting, even delaying instructors from their own homes. I've never bothered to carpool or learn to drive. Even worse than not talking in a large group is not talking one on one.

I Met Blink-182

Thursday, August 27th, at roughly 1:00 in the afternoon, I began my adventure to the best of the three concerts I have been to. Rachel's mom, Mrs. K., drove her daughter, Sean L., Joel W. and me into Philly so that we could take the ferry across the Susquehanna into Camden. I got bitch seat because I'm the littlest. A ticket costs six dollars for adults and runs, on time, every hour on the hour. We took up our wait by seating ourselves on a flat slate barrier several feet above the murky water, but not many feet from the edge. Conversation was excellent, discussing the band, concert, friends, observations, and generally hilarious stories. Through the efforts of the boys, we listened to Taking Back Sunday and Weezer, two of the bands who would be headlining. Upon boarding the ferry, we got a seat on the upper deck, facing the water, and I read all of the safety guidelines should the ferry suffer any number of tragedies and require an emergency response. Philadelphia is a beautiful city, and I wish I had brought my sketch pad. Camden is not beautiful.

Because the concert opened its gates at 5:30, we were one of the earliest groups there, setting up Rachel's "stoner blanket" as the fifth group in line behind one of the gates. A man with a fanciful hipster hairdo asked us if we wanted pictures taken of us for Taking Back Sunday's website. Of course, we agreed, and I'm sure we were absolutely adorable. An unsucessful attempt at hackey sack was made, but while Sean was sufficiently capable and Joel bordering on "not bad," Rachel and I were lucky if we hit the tiny, bean-filled ball. It was initially meant to be a flirting technique, but it becames more of a hazard zone as all boys quickly hurried past our area of play.

Rachel had her heart deadset on buying the limited edition, silk-screened concert t-shirt that only 182 copies were made of. Because of this, when the very beginnings of a merchandise booth was being set up outside the gates, we immediately set up residence to wait. There, another concert goer named Jackie, started talking to us about the band, being broke, and general conversation. It was very pleasant, and coincidentally, the boys we had left to guard the blanket had separately begun talking to her boyfriend, as we found out later. At one point in our line waiting adventure, we saw that the boys were giving out their phone numbers to t-Mobile representatives. We laughed at them, until they shouted to us they were signed up to meet the band. Infuriated, but not leaving our place in line, Rachel called, and they said they had actually registered in a raffle to meet the band. While still upset they hadn't called us over, we laughed it off, saying there were 25,000 people coming to this concert and there's no way they could win. For safe measure, we signed up when they came over to the merchandise line.

One of the men setting up the booth had said that the limited edition t-shirt was going to be seventy dollars. Rachel was astounded, and didn't have the money because she had to buy advance ferry tickets for the people who had not arrived yet. I lent her my money, as I was five dollars short of any t-shirt. However, as the first people in line, we learned they did not have the limited edition shirt at this particular stand, and so Rachel gave my money back so I could buy fire engine red "Feeling This?" underwear. We took our place in line, which was almost organized because it was getting close to entrance time, and Joel had transformed the blanket saving our spot into "one badass scarf." I texted some, but it was generally good talking, laughing, and being excited.

5:30!!! They let us in the gates and Rachel immediately bolted for the nearest merchandise stand, shoving aside other quick ticket holders and being the first person to purchase one of the shirts she so desired. Luckily, the other guy was a liar, and this shirt was only thirty dollars, to her relief. Some of us went to the t-Mobile stand to get our free gifts of sidekick beach balls and to use the facilities. We met up with the rest of the kids we would be spending the concert with, namely Meg, Joe, Alex, Amanda, Steve, Hannah, and Mel. We had an incredible seat, with a small patch of grass, close and center. Here we stayed, with more laughing, talking, and excitement until Rachel got a phone call. Chester French had started playing very loudly, disrupting the phone call, so Rachel ran towards an open spot to be able to hear. I very excitedly watched her, her far off leaps and bounds revealing that she, of the 25,000 concert guests, was going to meet blink-182. I ran off after her, ready to worship her feet after she met them, eager to hear how the incredible meeting went. At first, she ran to the wrong end, and was fearful she would be too late. Luckily, she arrived in the right spot and she was given a pink wrist band. Luckily for me, she got to bring a guest, to our surprise.

The guy who was organizing the event for t-Mobile had a sense of humor, and because of Rachel's extreme reaction of happiness, he sorta messed with her. Almost unbelievably, while waiting in line, we found out that Jackie's boyfriend who had been talking to the boys had also won and Jackie was going to meet the band as well. With a complete lack of dignity, Rachel and I started calling everyone we knew who would bother to care. My brother was jealous, but manly calm about it. Then, at their order, we got in a single file line and excitedly walked into the arena, waiting in a food court for access to the backstage area. While there, not two feet from a trashcan and only a few staggered steps from a bathroom, an inebriated young man puked. Rachel, who was excited to a point beyond what is medically healthy and usually has a mirror reaction to that action, was doing fine, to my great relief. Backstage, they told us that we could not have any cameras and that all three of the band members would sign one object for us, but not to ask for anything else.

We were waiting through the end of Chester French and through Taking Back Sunday. The only bad part is that the line was right outside of the catering area, and caterers know how to cook to please the senses when all we had eaten was overpriced chicken and fries. Finally, the band came out and set up their autograph table. Rachel went a small ways out of line to get a better look, and Mark gave her the standard man head nod. She just about shrieked and swooned. All of the security guards were joking about the fangirl reactions we were having and put us at ease. They allowed one or two people at a time at the table. First Rachel, then I joined her and told them that while I was a big fan, my brother was an even bigger one. They signed the underwear I had just purchased and we received free stickers and a CD of Travis and DJ-AM (who died in a coke overdose two days later, on August 29th). Tom told Mark to cover his face, because Rachel was crying, and hugged her. Apparently, he's cuddly. Then, we took a picture of the group together and led us away.

We got back in between sets, and Weezer was not on yet. I enjoy most of their singles, but have no idea about any of the other songs on their albums. Their performance etiquette was fantastic and it really psyched up the whole crowd. Thanks to radio 104.5, I knew the words to their new single "If You're Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To)," which I thoroughly enjoy. Their last song was "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" During which, I was squished between two guys jumping and I did my best to jump with them. It was fun. After their sets were finished, they played keyboard cat. Then, blink!! They opened with The Anthem, Part 2. Tom was the tinest bit drunk, and while very funny, made many a dick and fart joke.

Joel and I rocked out and sang every line until he found (or formed) a mosh pit right in front of us. We ran into Evan P., Max G., Joe P., and Taylor J., the first of whom also participated in the moshing. I pretty much jumped and sang and danced to every line. I got a little bit moshed on and a little bit grabbed by the waist by a drunk guy until Meg saved me. Tom forgot a few of the lyrics, but the crowd carried him through and it was overall a great performance. They closed with Reckless Abandon, and the crowd refused, chanting "One more song! One more song!" At that, Travis came out, and in his levitating, spinning, and angling drum set, played "Some West Coast Shit." Then, the rest of the band came out and eventually finished with Dammit. They played all of my favorite songs and two I didn't know the lyrics to, one of them being Man Overboard.

The line for the ferry back was hell (this line will last forever, and ever, and ever...), but it still saved more time than if Sean's dad had driven up through Jersey, paying tolls and fighting traffic. We realized that during the concert, someone had kicked Rachel's bag and we had lost four of the tickets and had to buy new ones back. After getting tickets, but before getting on the boat, we sang "On a Boat." Though by some mighty miracle, they told our group they only had room left for ten people, the exact number we happened to be. We were glad we did not have to face the embarrassment of a.) not being on a boat after singing that and b.) facing the wrath of everyone who heard us singing.

There was sleepy conversation on the way back and Mr. L. is an interesting guy. I woke up incredibly sore. My neck still hurts a lil' bit.

One of the freshman and I are doing the talent show together! Snaps a plenty!

There were 1.4 billion fewer credit card solicitations sent out in '09 than in '08.

Weezer and Third Eye Blind both had good albums come out this month.

Holy goodness! blink-182 concert today!
I'm also excited to hear Weezer's new single.

Band camp has been super awesome this week!
Except for 4/6 of the pit (battery reject) freshmen.

Being outrageous makes them notice I'm cute.
Then they notice I'm nice too.

"god, this long fucking fight
is lost"

Goodbye hugs are the hardest and easiest to remember.
Sometimes though, I wish they would blur together.

I think I'm going to go out and legitimately get some make up,
still not much though, only enough to apply "smokey eye."

"Lightning comes and lightning goes, it's all the same to me."

The riff from "No One Knows" by Queens of the Stone Age is catchy.

I tremendously enjoyed Huck Finn.
I develop crushes on literary figures too often.

Brandywine

Between the Brandywine River Museum and Smith's Bridge, there is a rope swing. It is nearly perfect, considering the many variables that go into making a great ride. The water is deep, the bank high and climbable, and the rope sturdy. To get a real pendulum swing, it is necessary to climb up the supporting tree and jump from there. I am scared of heights, and it is very intimidating from up in the tree. However, one of my summer resolutions was to jump if the option presented itself. I screamed an exhilarating scream and almost forgot to let go.

Gina is the only person who can have any personal interest in my actions. However, my reactions were terrible and I am ashamed of them. Those, everyone has a right to gut me for.

This Is Underhanded

Dear Gina,

You may consider it a cold and painful betrayal for me to say this and address you as "dear," but I still love you. You are still the same incredible person, even though now you can see me for the backstabber I am. My guilt is infinitesimal compared to every emotion you are experiencing, even before the sickening physical feelings. Even if I could explain what I did, it wouldn't change your terrible pain. I'm not going to ask for forgiveness. I know not only is it useless, but there may not be a time in the near future when I deserve it. I am sorry this had to be in a sterile and public blog, but I know that any private communication between us would only further your heartbreak.

With all of my heart,
Chloe

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Dear Sarah,

Gina needs you by her side, and I need you there for her too. We need to have a professional and cordial relationship for band, but beyond that, do give the vaguest consideration for my motivation. I'll miss you.

Sincerely,
Chloe

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Abby,

I'll continue to be the hypocritical backstabbing slut and you can continue to hate me while both parties who were actually involved are at college. You're the only one I'm angry at for this line "If this is my reaction, imagine what it will do to her." Your reaction doesn't matter. She knew well before you did. I don't have to imagine what her reaction was. It was made very clear the sickening, heartbreaking pain I have inflicted on my friend. After this, I'm sure you won't tell me what the old stories are, but I'm still curious.

Chloe

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Dear Joey,

I am ashamed to see you. Some of the only relief I have found is that you are an amazing brother and will be there for her. I know you are reasonable and will be cordial.

Sincerely,
Chloe