fresh start?

  They say that a new school year is fresh and different, right? So why does it feel exactly the same?
  When I walked into first period science, HE was there. (I'm now referring to the certain person in caps.) And it seemed like nothing was different. HE was wearing a shirt he wore last year, something I was familiar with, and he didn't look any different. I didn't even notice a difference until lunch when I realized that his legs were a lot hairier.
  HE is in three of my classes, and will be in four next semester. We're going to have Health together. I'M GOING TO BE MORTIFIED. I don't even get mortified.
  In other news, my classes are pretty good. Except for the fact that my math teacher doesn't realize that there are four eighth graders in his Geometry class. Unfortunately, I'm the only eighth grade girl in his math class. And the Spanish teacher is NUTS. But that's not new.
  I would post more, but my brother's almost back from longboarding. Not much time to post today.

does it have to have a title? i guess so

  Have you ever wondered about your face shape? I didn't care about mine until my sister insisted I know to find 'the perfect haircut for my face.' According to my thirty seconds of research, I don't have a face shape. Neither does the little sister who cares. We made up new shapes: the roval (round oval) and the hoval or ovart (heart oval). In case anyone cares.
  In other news, the big sister is pregnant. Though my stepsister has already had a baby, I wasn't technically an aunt yet. It's too bad that my sister moved to the land far, far away and the niece or nephew may never really know me.
  I'm also taking my first plane trip ever tomorrow. 5:30 a.m. It will be scary.
  Um...This was going to be longer, but I forgot what I was going to write about. Sorry.

explanation

i haven't been following my usual format today, since it's been so long. i'm going through too much emotion right now to write clearly. once you make a habit of it, it's easy to peel off the feelings and stick them on paper. right now, it's not a habit. i'm done venting for today, by the way.

p.s. if you haven't noticed, everything uploads backwards. because i posted four times today, my first post of today is at the bottom. that may make a difference.

why i love my older brother

it's been made clear:
i don't have a father the way i should.
not biologically, and definitely not step.
and when i was as dark as i could go,
he was eighteen, finally mature enough.
the brother i usually didn't give a second thought to
was teaching himself to play guitar.
he played any song i came up with,
told me the names of almost all my now-favorite bands.
music became second nature.
he became instinct.
he had saved me from sex once, years before,
in an instinctive protective moment.
now he was always like that.
always nice, always listening, always making sense.
he was my dream father.
the day i had to leave the boy of my dreams, i walked around
senselessly,
sobbing without shame. when i passed my house for the
fourth time, i knew that the brave face had to go on.
he was inside and i
couldn't let him know i was hurting.
when he saw me, i know he saw
through my mask. a few quick words
ended the conversation, as i left to cry. he
knew, and didn't ask me once about it.
now he's going to leave.
he's nineteen, the right age.
when he gets back he'll start a family.
i'm in my last months
with my dream dad.

angry...i don't know how this will turn out. this is also my first attempt at a poem in a long time. i'm very rusty.

i'm downstairs, and yet i can hear the sound loud and clear.
over and over, almost never ceasing, and
every time i hear it i want to break something.
she doesn't belong to you.
i've known her longer than you have.
how could she let you take her over in such a way?
when you're not here, she's fine, the greatest mom ever.
the second you pull up to the house, she changes.
the oversexed woman i can't stand, who's almost
always kissing you and holding you and touching you.
the woman that you own in every way.
the woman you stole from me.
she doesn't care about me when you're around, because
you don't.
just because you're older than me,
it doesn't mean that i can be your verbal punching bag.
just because you married her,
it doesn't mean that you can make her not care about what
i want.
that slapping sound hurts me so much.
you used to pretend like i didn't know what that meant,
slapping her butt, constantly, over and over.
you know what that is, what it makes her think about.
that's why when you're home, i don't get a second thought.
you wonder why i'm depressed?
you wonder why i cringe whenever you touch me,
scream inside everytime you touch mine?
you wonder why i'm crying?
why i've never told you that i love you?
(i don't love you, even though you're convinced i do.)
because you're here.
because you're alive.
because i have to live with you.
because the thing i'm supposed to call you has the word
father in it, even though i don't think you
deserve a name.
because you torture me almost every day, and sometimes,
i'm on the brink of hating you, even though it would
hurt her beyond belief.

claddaghs, why zac efron confuses me, and such

One of my favorite books, The Realm of Possibility, talks about a two-finger claddagh. I have searched everywhere for a claddagh that fits on two fingers, but have had no luck. I have discovered that I love claddaghs. They're Irish rings that, unfortunately, are traditionally worn on one finger. The way you wear it indicates your love status. It intrigued me. I prefer the look of the silver ring, but I couldn't find a good picture of one.


  
  I was watching Regis and Kelly the other day. Let me establish that Regis and Kelly is not a normal activity for me. It was on, and Regis' wife Joy was taking the place of Kelly, and it sounded fun. (Please keep in mind that I had just woken up.)
  And guess who was on the show that day? Vanessa Hudgens. I have no problem with Disney, but High School Musical really bothers me. My cousins met Vanessa and Zac Efron once at a mall in L.A., and while they reported that Zac was amazing, they said that Vanessa didn't seem very friendly or even particularly nice. Before even watching Regis and Kelly, I didn't have a good opinion. While on the show, she didn't seem extremely smart ("Lake Titicaca? I didn't know that was a real place!") or interesting. And quite frankly, I hated her laugh.
  But what made up for all of that was the clip they showed of High School Musical 2. It showed her boyfriend (Zac Efron) giving her a necklace. The acting wasn't particularly amazing, but there was one thing that struck me: Zac Efron's expression near the end of the clip. Every second that he looked at her, you could tell that he (supposedly) loved her. (Most of the interview and the whole clip is on Youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IxsaRV5dl4)
  For those people who have read the Twilight series, this is definitely Edward's expression when he looks at Bella. As Mike Newton says, "It looks like he wants to eat you."
  Lately, as things have been coming up, such as going back to school for registration and seeing my old haunts, I've been reminded of a certain person. (See my old blog if you have no clue what I'm talking about. The link is listed in my profile.) Anyway, this person looked at me the way that Zac Efron looks at Vanessa Hudgens, or Edward looks at Bella.
  I miss him. I've uncovered what my mind buried to make me stop hurting. I love him so much, and I feel so bad that we've had no contact whatsoever this summer. When I was back at school, I saw his old locker and the halls we walked down so many times over the last year. It was hard for me to breathe. I love him, though I'm not in love with him yet.
  This year, I don't know if I have any classes together, or whether we even have the same lunch. I'm nervous. If we're not together, this is the best time, since my feelings have cooled down a bit. If we are, which I'll love so much more, I'm getting myself ready for another nine months of love and happiness. And since I've never kissed a guy out of pure love, I'm excited for that to happen, if it does. But I have two problems. What if he doesn't like me anymore? That I couldn't stand. What if he's mad at me for not calling him all summer? I never gave him my number, so that couldn't apply to him. I'd be able to stand him being mad at me, even if it never ended.
   Sorry I'm being random. Of course, I'm always random, so it really doesn't matter.
 

First Post!!!

  I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to use this for, but I was inspired after thinking about Stephenie Meyer.
  If this becomes a poetry blog where I post poetry, BEWARE!!! I have no clue what will come out.
  I still haven't decided if I'm completely switching from my old blog, which I never use anyway...this will be difficult.
  Hopefully, since school's starting, this will be full of * teen love poems* my favorite to write, since romance is a crazy thing.
  I should probably mention my poetry style...not rhyming, not meter, full of my emotion at the moment, not always nice, and not necessarily fluent...sorry if you don't get it. Put up a comment and I'll answer the best I can without revealing any information that would say who I am.
  Knowing me, since I'm a procrastinator, this may be my last post. Have fun!