The Past 48 Hours.

First off, I'd like to apologize for the lack of consistency in moods from post to post.

Second, you should all know that MY FAMILY KICKS YOUR FAMILY'S ASS.

They are awesome. Sure sure, my last blog was about how much I could NOT stand my mother's almost hysterical self, but i have come to realize that she loves me loads and loads more than I thought she did.

Not that I didn't know she loved me. But I couldn't have imagined the extent to which she does.

Daddy too.

This college thing is a megabijillion times harder on them than I thought it was.

Having spent the past two whole days with them, I now see the little things they do that gives away just how much the will miss when in (let's count...) 23 days. In that amount of time, they plan on feeding me all the best dishes I've ever been fed at home, making sure I get more than enough rest (I've only been fully awake for about five hours today...it's 8:40 PM), and letting me do whatever makes me happy.

Even if it means that less time will be spent with them.

SAD FACE.

Yesterday, Daddy and I talked about anything and (almost) everything for more than two hours. Mommy and I chit chatted about this coming fall until one of us (her, of course) fell asleep. Most 18-year-olds would have thought that was a semi-pathetic way to spend one of very few limited days of summer, but it seemed almost...necessary.

Oh, not to mention that I re-realized my love of Mickey D's grilled Chipotle BBQ snack wrap.

YUM.

Last Time I Checked...

...which was very recent, I was the one leaving for college in less than four weeks.

NOT my mother.

Anywho, the point is that I should be the one shopping for Twin XL sheets, I should be the one running around the house looking for things we already have that I need, I should be picking and choosing.

NOT my mother.

Yes, I understand that she's just trying to help and probably already misses me. But really. Come on...who's the one going off the college?

ME.

Despite that fact, she has filled two laundry baskets full of dorm supplies, bought a comforter and storage drawers, as well as making me feel absolutely horrible for wanting something slightly different than what she picked out for me.

Once again, who will be living in university housing?

Don't make me answer that.

Yes, I'm Typing This Half Asleep.

I could have sworn that summer had just started.

No? Didn't think so.

Fourteen more days until the bestie leaves for college and twenty-four days until my own departure.

AHH!!! :] :]

AHH!!! :/ :/

...That just about sums up how I feel.

As absolutely ecstatic as I am about leaving and going on to "the next chapter of my life" (excuse the cliched cheesiness), I am just as unbelievably apprehensive.

It feels that I am going into this whole four-year-long ordeal with higher expectations than suggested, but I don't think I can help it.

However, I have come to the conclusion that I always tend to be happier whenever I leave this town of mine. Doesn't matter where I go, but it is clear that the farther I tend to be...the higher my happy level raises.

Hmm...

College. Bring it.

Go On. Scream.

Last night was a beast. I barely made it.

Having been about a week after my last party, I thought that maybe I'd be able to handle the drama that comes with drunkenness.

I suck at sensing the extent of my abilities.

Then again, this one hit pretty damn close to home...

Heading out to the party, I was dealing with the slight bit of guilt I feel every time I lie to my parents and say I'm having a sleepover. Usually this feeling goes away as soon as I get to the party destination. Not last night.

About and hour into the party, I had less than a couple sips of cherry beer, and wanted to leave.

(Yes, there is a boy that'll pop up in this situation. Give it a few sentences more.)

This brilliant musician boy (nope, not THE BOY of this story) and I, the only two sober ones at this party, got sick of the drunken crowd. With a blanket and a bag of pretzels, we climbed onto the roof of the garage.

In those couple hours, we saw saw a enormous amount of shooting stars. So many, in fact, that we ran out of things to wish for. Eventually, we started wishing for money...to buy temporary happiness. Or at least contentment.

His best friend, with her current boyfriend in tow, decided to look for him, and we ended up hopping off the roof. He went to check on his wasted best friend. I went to check on my buzzing BFF.

(That morning, when she was over at my house, THE BOY chatted her up on Facebook. Yup, her instead of me. I kept breathing and let it go.)

After find out he'd called her a few times and texted her drunk, I asked if she was alright, told her to call me if she needed anything, and headed for my car.

As soon as the host of the party deemed me "crystal." My car turned out the driveway.

Feeling the the seams that kept my sanity in tact being stretched, I knew I needed to get away for a while.

A while meaning three hours, of course.

Ignoring calls and texts, I drove. And drove. And drove. And kept driving.

When I finally decided that I should head back and check on the best friend, police lights lit up in my rearview mirror.

(I didn't have any alcohol in my system, and my speedometer showed my solid 25 mph. In a 25 mph zone.)

At almost 4:00 in the morning, I was tired. Mind, body, and soul. Completely exhausted.

So much so, I almost asked the friendly police officer to hear my story and offer me some desperately needed advice. Instead, I listened calmly as he told me about my lack of a complete stop at flashing red lights. FML. Or F this S. Either way, I took my written warning, asked the starry sky why it was being such a JERK, cried for five whole seconds and slowly drove back to the party.

Three more hours of taking care of the best friend, looking for lost cell phones, getting the drunkards to bed, and trying to block out the sounds of drunken hookups...I was done.

Things have changed. In that one night, I have changed.

It's permanent, get used to it.

Non-Confrontational, I Guess.

I love my best friend, I really do. But every once in a while that green-eyed monster comes up and takes me over.

But it's not all on my part.

(Really, it's not. Shush up and let me explain.)

Pretty, intelligent, funny. That's my BFF. The boys adore her at first sight and she loves their attention. I (jokingly) call her ho-ho face, and she doesn't really deny it. Although she's the relationship type of girl, she and I both know for a fact that she's all the happier when there's some boy chasing after her. Which there usually is.

Most of the time, none of this bothers me, because I personally couldn't care less about the boys that are interested in her.

However, TONIGHT happens to be one of those rare exceptions.

A sort of double date was set up by the current boy of hers. However, the other girl bailed, and a boy was called on to take her place.

(I guess you could say this particular boy and I might be having a minor fling.)

When she texted me that he would be joining their get-together, she was all excited. It was funny, I'll admit...but she never once thought of inviting me to this hangout time.

Three boys. And my best friend.

I probably wouldn't have gone, but the fact that she was going out to dinner with a boy I can (currently) say is mine...hurt.

I'm hurt.

Sure, this boy doesn't mean the whole wide world to me...but still...

The lack of consideration from my best friend. It hurts.

How do I bring this up without sounding like a jealous freak...doesn't matter.

Me and my non-confrontational self will just have to get over it.

The Party Never Ends.

The very topic of this blog is what actually has prevented me from posting anything in the past couple days.

Party hardy.

Yup, that’s what I have been doing instead of blogging.

(Lame excuse, I know…but I’m helping build that trust bridge between us. Honest. Bam.)

I’d like to look at this as a Cause&Effect situation…

Cause: I’m eighteen years old (okay, I was still seventeen at my first party, but that’s a negligible detail) and I have never done anything too wild and crazy. Despite what my parents might think, I have been a fairly hassle-free teenager….most often referred to as a “goodie-goodie.”

Goodie-goodie my ass.

Effect: I’m a crazyass partier. Okay, no.

I’m willing to try something new. Not that I feel so much that I’ve been sheltered from somewhat of a more thrilling, living-on-the-edge sort of deal, but just that…I’m ready for a change. Or at least a break of some sort. High school has ended and college hasn’t started yet, so what time could be more perfect than now to experience a little bit of the world, right?

*footnote: The university that I’ll be attending come fall is as well known for its quality of education as for it’s social life. Yup, the courses are pretty damn great, but the parties kick ass. Can you blame me for wanting to build up some tolerance? Ha.

So…yup. Phew. Done.

Yes. No. Maybe So.

Wow. After re-reading last night's (or this morning's?) post a couple times, I was finally able to convince myself that I was indeed the author.

Although, in the back of my mind (way way back there with the rusty file cabinet filled long lost memories) I knew that I had written a mighty long post sometime in the middle of the night, I just didn't have a clue what it was about or what I had promised to elaborate on in the coming posts.

Huh...I see that I promised to chit chat about two things:

1. Why I've never been in a relationship

2. Why people can now spot me at PARTY party scenes

Why in the world am I drawing a blank??

Oh yah, it's summer. It's nice out. I'm going canoeing in a couple hours. Not to mention my Bee Eff Eff is coming over in an hour to start our podcast. (speaking of...DETOUR!)

Alright, it's not that we're mentally challenged or anything. In fact, we're two rather bright individuals (ifIdosaysomyself) who realize that most people don't give a ding dang dong about what a couple of newly high school graduates talk about in the massive amount of free time they have during the summer months. HOWEVER, that doesn't mean we can't record ourselves (at our peaks, I'm sure) ranting about the completely random things so we can come back and make fun of it all at a later date.

Which you know we will do.

Obviously.

Anywho...numero uno! (I know, that was incredibly impressive. Five years of Spanish later, maybe you'll all be able to kick some serious tush like I just did.)

As I've mentioned before, I am relationship-free. Truly.

Never in my life have I been in a relationship. For as long as I have had Facebook, my relationship status has been, well...statically single.

Haha, you can all keep your "oh that's alright honey" and "you poor thing" faces, because (believe it or not) I chose to be single.

(I'm serious! Don't think I'm some pathetic eighteen-year-old trying to explain what society would consider a sad sad life, because really...I voluntarily chose this path. A path with a billion less footprints than the other...)

I mean, I've had flings and such with various people, but nothing was ever that serious. The guys that I even remotely took into consideration were either a) not as great as I initially thought they were, b) intimidating me to the point of avoiding to get their attention or c) unavailable.

(Shush. I think those a three very legit reasons.)

Well, at least that's how it was at the beginning.

But after waiting eighteen whole years, I feel as if I've waited this long for THE PERFECT BOYFRIEND, he should be pretty goddamn phenomenal. There would have to be something different about him and no matter what happens in the end, I do not (I repeat, DO NOT) want to ever regret being with him.

Ya know?

Okay...well, maybe I'm being too complicated.

And maybe it's totally unrealistic.

So maybe I'll end up utterly disappointed.

But maybe. Just maybe...I'll get what I want in the end.

ANYWHO, I'm pooped and ready for a snackity snack. That second question (scroll up a bit) will be addressed soon soon soon.

Tudaloo!