I cannot believe that I had the conversation I did with my dad. I actually told him about the whole Shawn thing, and I even slightly mentioned The Boy--without naming names exactly. I gave my usual reasons for not feeling the same way--he's more than 50% dorky, and I'm just not attracted to him. I can't believe I told my dad this. What is even more unbelievable is that he offered to provide transportation for me and The Boy if I ever got the nerve to ask him out. (and he accepted... haahahaha!) Thanks, Dad, but... no. Just no. I have too much pride.
Lord, just when I'm sure a guy has an interest in me, I don't want him to. The curses of being plain constantly rear their ugly head.
Speaking of Drew--I've decided to say his name, because I enjoy torturing myself and besides, typing "The Boy" can become incredibly cumbersome and I mention people by name enough in here anyway and I've yet to be truly found out, thank the Lord--today in French my heart did this flip-floppy thing. There's this girl in French with us. Brandi was in the same French I class as me. She's a varsity cheerleader turned female wrestler. She's a junior. She's strawberry blonde and about 5'4" and cute. Since we've changed seats, she sits in front of him, and I sit in the back of the same row as them. And I see them talking all the time. And I know it's probably nothing more than talking, but I had that familiar sinking feeling. The feeling that it's too late for me. The feeling that if I try anything now, I will be immediately disqualified because I'm just a photographer who doesn't wear American Eagle and Abercrombie, because I'm not cute and petite with perfect teeth and blonde hair. I'm taller than average, have mangled front teeth, live in jeans and t-shirts, and could never be petite even if I tried.
It's all probably in my head, you know? I'm probably being paranoid again, but, you know what? He's too good for me. He'd be better off with a Brandi, anyway. It's the way the world works. All the guys I've ever liked in this way prefer them. Maybe I should just forget the whole white guy crushing thing and just fling myself at Shawn. At least he acknowledges my existance and likes me. But I don't like him. I'd hurt his feelings and I don't want to do that.
I wish I was at least pretty. God. Pretty girls have it so damn easy when it comes to this arena. I don't even have the balls to tell him I think he's cute to his face. I am a waste.
In other non-agitating news, I am glad to be on Thanksgiving break. I get to make macaroni and cheese. I hope I don't screw it up. I'm always worried I'll screw up the macaroni for some reason. I'm weird like that.
And I have $50. It's a miracle.
Speaking of money--guess how much those pennies I picked up this morning amounted to? 45 cents. Basically 50 cents. Basically half a dollar. And that crazy boy just dropped them like they were trash! It gets worse--some guy just threw a dime on the floor in front of me and kicked it like it was a rock or something. And he just looked at me like I was crazy when I picked it up. Dude! What's WITH people?
Lord, just when I'm sure a guy has an interest in me, I don't want him to. The curses of being plain constantly rear their ugly head.
Speaking of Drew--I've decided to say his name, because I enjoy torturing myself and besides, typing "The Boy" can become incredibly cumbersome and I mention people by name enough in here anyway and I've yet to be truly found out, thank the Lord--today in French my heart did this flip-floppy thing. There's this girl in French with us. Brandi was in the same French I class as me. She's a varsity cheerleader turned female wrestler. She's a junior. She's strawberry blonde and about 5'4" and cute. Since we've changed seats, she sits in front of him, and I sit in the back of the same row as them. And I see them talking all the time. And I know it's probably nothing more than talking, but I had that familiar sinking feeling. The feeling that it's too late for me. The feeling that if I try anything now, I will be immediately disqualified because I'm just a photographer who doesn't wear American Eagle and Abercrombie, because I'm not cute and petite with perfect teeth and blonde hair. I'm taller than average, have mangled front teeth, live in jeans and t-shirts, and could never be petite even if I tried.
It's all probably in my head, you know? I'm probably being paranoid again, but, you know what? He's too good for me. He'd be better off with a Brandi, anyway. It's the way the world works. All the guys I've ever liked in this way prefer them. Maybe I should just forget the whole white guy crushing thing and just fling myself at Shawn. At least he acknowledges my existance and likes me. But I don't like him. I'd hurt his feelings and I don't want to do that.
I wish I was at least pretty. God. Pretty girls have it so damn easy when it comes to this arena. I don't even have the balls to tell him I think he's cute to his face. I am a waste.
In other non-agitating news, I am glad to be on Thanksgiving break. I get to make macaroni and cheese. I hope I don't screw it up. I'm always worried I'll screw up the macaroni for some reason. I'm weird like that.
And I have $50. It's a miracle.
Speaking of money--guess how much those pennies I picked up this morning amounted to? 45 cents. Basically 50 cents. Basically half a dollar. And that crazy boy just dropped them like they were trash! It gets worse--some guy just threw a dime on the floor in front of me and kicked it like it was a rock or something. And he just looked at me like I was crazy when I picked it up. Dude! What's WITH people?
no subject
Date: 2003-11-25 08:14 pm (UTC)Fun facts about change: 1) the Treasury Department gets thousands of letters every year with pennies taped inside, so they can be recirculated. 2.) The only state that you can use a penny in a toll booth is in Illinois, because Lincoln is on the penny and he is also from Illinois. 3.) Pennies made after 1982 are lighter than the ones made before 1982, because the newer pennies are 98% zinc and just 2% copper.
...I'm such a vault of useless knowledge, yet I can't remember where I put my keys half the time.
useless trivia rocks!
Date: 2003-11-25 08:22 pm (UTC)Re: useless trivia rocks!
Date: 2003-11-25 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-25 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-26 01:48 pm (UTC)