"If all we are is a mistake, then what's the point of all of this?"

Quicky post.

I'm back from Warped Tour with a few signed items, a foam middle finger, a sunburn, an aching neck, and wonderful memories.

But that info will come later. All I have time for is a short rant.

My mom and I stopped at the dollar store across the street today in order to grab hot dog buns. The electricity had mysteriously gone out, and we were left with only what we could cook on the stove. So we were going to have chili dogs.

Anyways, we got in line and were second.

The first thing that jumped out at me from the guy at the counter buying his various things was his height. He towered over me by at least a foot. His vivid red shirt contrasted deeply against his dark skin and short black hair.

But that's not my rant. Although, I suppose I could go on about feeling short compared to this guy, but I don't really quite care about my height.

The point is, our dollar store has a continuous donation box for supporting literacy. The donation box had about twenty pennies in it at that point in time. Normally my mother and I give any change we have into the box unless we pay with the debit card, because then we don't have any.

The cashier rung up the guy's total. It ended coming to some amount of dollars and one cent in change. The cashier asked him if he would like to donate his penny to fighting against illiteracy. He said no and took the penny.

What the hell? What kind of person can't spare one penny? Especially when this guy wasn't dirt poor. His clothes were nice and well kept, and he had nice shoes. Not someone who counts every single penny.

Even though we were paying with a debit card, I pulled a dollar bill out of my pocket and stuck it in the box.

Stupid asshole. I hope he magically forgets how to read. And then I hope no one teaches him how to read. He can be illiterate for the rest of his life. And I hope no one will donate a penny to him so he can learn how to read.

Dum duh dum da duh...

On the brighter side, the new video is going to be an Armor for Sleep video, someone I saw on Warped Tour.

"Why can't they see that we'll never be who they want us to be? We'll never be. We have too many dreams, too many dreams to just throw them away."

So I'm leaving for Indy tomorrow. I'll be back on Saturday sometime, tired as hell and very bruised.

But I will be back.

I promise.

"So keep breathing, ‘cause I’m not leaving. Hold on to me and never let me go."

"I'm bouncing off the walls again
Woah
And I'm looking like a fool again."

I hung without Ryan, Rachel and Ryo on Sunday. Funny, I'm the only that doesn't have a name starting with R.

Tongue-twister.

Anyways. Spent all my money on food. Indian food. It was actually pretty good. Except for the stuff that looked like green applesauce. Which we later decided was ground up jalapenos.

No more touching anything green and suspicious looking for me.

Strange how my life seems to go so fast at times. Like this summer. If you can call it a summer. Most of it's been school.

But I was informed today that my birthday is less than a month away. I'll hit that supposedly special day. Though I suppose it's special in the sense that I'm getting my permit.

But other than that I'm merely a year older. I have around eight months before people start looking at me weird again everytime I say my age. Of course, lots of that will probably come with the beginning of school again.

Beginning of school. New teachers, new people. More teaching teachers to say my last name correctly. More filling out information cards. More desperately trying to find the fastest way to my next class. More tripping over people. A new wave of freshman to stand in the middle of the hallways. New paths for me to follow to class. New people to say that I shouldn't cause myself to go deaf so quickly.

Yet, the old things will still be there, though some will come back changed.

Including me.

We go away for a summer and come back different. Back to a different world. And by the first few months of school, we will all be settled back into routine, and nothing will be different.

We won't remember it being different.

Of course, I will remember Band class being different. Simply because some loser decided to drop out and leave me with the scary clarinet section of doom.

That reminds me. I probably won't live to see my birthday. I have four days of Band first. They'll more than likely manage to kill me in that amount of time.

Or I'll kill myself by pulling my head off by my hair. Always feasible.

Not really, it won't be that bad. Hopefully. Lydia won't be section leader, so I won't be persecuted quite so mercilessly.

There'll be a few nice people. Arrgh! Why does everyone have to be in different sections! I'm scared. *sniffles*

Oh well, the person who is leaving me to my horrible fate gets to hear my rants the period after that. He deserves it. :-p

"I love you. I have loved you all along. And I miss you. Been far away for far too long."

Mmm...not much to say really.

This week went very fast. I don't really remember Wednesday or Tuesday, yet I have this slight feeling that they did exist. And now time seems to slow.

Too slow for my taste.

I'll probably only be gone three days next week for Warped Tour. Yet I plan to enjoy them, hopefully. One day of screwing around, one day of moshing, one day of healing the bruises from moshing.

Fun, fun, fun. And not in a sarcastic way. The bruises are always worth it. I might even crowd surf this year. Though I will not be wearing a skirt. *shudders* Bad memories.

I actually own a few skirts. Four I think. Two of which I have never worn. One was for a band concert. One was for last year's Sunshine dance.

Speaking of which, my mother has gone into shopping mode. Ever since Mary's been back. Actually, scratch that. Ever since this morning when my mom saw me in my red in black top. My mom got this crazy idea in her head that in looks good on me. Bleh. Anyways, then she talked with Mary.

I swear I had to force her out the door so I could get to school on time.

Hopefully, Mary will come shopping with us whenever my mom decides to drag me to try on dresses. Bleck. I have horrible memories of shopping with my mother. And that was just for the frickin' shoes. Which I hope I will be allowed to wear again this year, as to spare me the pain. Although the shoes themselves are painful. How can women stand full days in high heels? I wore mine to the band concert and from the audience (Heather's mom and boyfriend's point of view) I looked like I was limping. Actually, I was trying not to fall.

Which I didn't trip horribly. And not at all on stage. But I still looked like an idiot. Wonderful.

Ack! This post wasn't supposed to go on this long. I was having one of my ungirlish rants. Not that I'm not girly every once in a while. Actually, I am, quite often. It's just that shopping with my mother terrifies me.

It makes me feel like a Barbie doll.

I really don't like Barbie dolls.

"Like the angel you are, you laugh, creating a lightness in my chest. Your eyes penetrate me."

I can't honestly think of anything to say. I have nothing to complain about for once in my life. I'm happy, Warped Tour is almost here.....my sister will be gone for two hours everyday.....how much better could life get?

And if you think about it, complaints are interesting. The bad things in life make it interesting. Of course, the good ones do too....

But bad things make for great stories. For instance, how I am trying to type as a little white devil nips at my arm. And tickles me.

Tickling. Not fun, for me at least.

Being ticklish is really not cool.

Having friends who know you're ticklish....even worse.

Although, I do have to say that Ryo has it worse. But only because I'm part of the tickling group.

And now the fiendish being is upside-down in my lap, assaulting me with its claws and its tongue. Insane feline.

Hmm, I must go now. I've had this song stuck in my head ALL day. I'm going to see if I can put the video up for it. You people might actually like it. It's popish, even though the band normally does some pretty good rock.

"How could I know that you would take my breath away?"

Oh happy days.

I can't wipe a smile off my face. I'm beginning to think I have become a morning person. Scary thought.

Dum duh dum da doo.....

All is right.

Uhm, anyways I'm going to try to find a Greeley Estates video to put up. Their one of my favorite bands, and one of the ones I'll see at Warped Tour.

I'll be gone for five days then. Five days without internet, without seeing anyone. Except Heather.

I can't think of anything more to say. Just that the sun is shining and I have chores. And a cat that just drank the milk I was about to drink.

Oh well, still happy.

"It's the way that he makes you feel. It's the way that he kisses you. It's the way that he makes you fall in love."

Must be quick. The weekend has been very busy. I saw Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest. Ranted a while because of the freakin' cliffhanger. Walked around town, played poker. Got my butt kicked.

Stayed up till two, slept till twelve. Woke up, had a picnic at Columbia Park.

Played with Mya at said park.

Chased said kid all over said park.

Dropped dead from exhaustion from chasing said kid around said park.

Came home, slept.

Got up, showered and now I'm going to watch a movie and sleep again.

I have to tell you, out of all the little kids I've followed around parks (quite a few), Mya has to be the most energetic and rambunctious. Also the only one to ever make me have to take a nap afterwards.

Crazy kids. I'm getting old. Why do they torture me so?

Actually, it was fun. I love playing with Mya. I'd do it again. After some more sleep...

Sleep drives me. But I can do without it.

I'm just grouchy the next morning. And no one likes a grouchy Tiffany.

Except my mom, it's the only time she can torture me and I can't drudge up a smartass comment back.

It comes out in mumbles, but never makes it to the insult portion.

Ok, I have two minutes to get to the living room before the movie starts. Buh-bye.

"Everytime I see your face, everytime you look my way, it’s like it all falls into place. Everything feels right."

It's somewhat amazing to me how quickly I can plummet from complete happiness. In the short matter of an hour I've been from ecstaticly happy, to ticked off, to the brink of tears, to angry once more. Now I'm just depressed.

I have no good reason to be depressed. I feel like one of those whiny spoiled girls who don't appreciate what they have. Still, I can't stop the feelings from coming.

The world is dropping in my eyes. I just delivered my dog from kids who were tossing a ball back around, laughing at my dog as she pulled at her lead.

My mom has sentenced me to a day's worth of work. I have to finish the dishes, sweep the kitchen floor, clean my room, vacuum all carpets, general cleaning around the house. I also have to find time to watch a two hour movie that we rented and I still haven't had a chance to watch. Why all the work? My mom's being bitchy because it's her time of the month.

Which of course, sends me into hysterics because I can't get in a proper fight with my mom without breaking into tears. Not because I'm a wimp mind you, I just hate being angry at my mom. It doesn't change the fact that I am angry, it just means I'm screaming through tears.

I now have to listen to my little sister sing. In my truck. Mutilating the bands I love. The songs she doesn't know the words to. Because my mom got pissed off at me for telling her one too many times to stop. Ignoring the fact that my sister isn't listening to me, when what I say makes sense. I don't sing along to songs I don't know. Then again, I actually know what harmony means and how to harmonize. There is nothing worse than hearing a perfect high pitched note coming against an out of tune low one. And she keeps doing it. She's not even saying the words, because she doesn't know them. She moves her lips in a set of confused rapid movements that leave her just making noise, or holding out notes that don't even exist. She doesn't actually form words. She doesn't know the songs. Worse, she pretends to know the songs. She says that it was in a movie or on the radio, when I can guarantee they haven't been. And I tell her this. My mom agrees, but she still lets my sister sing. I even have to listen to her when I'm not singing. When I'm quietly listening to the voice and ever present guitar. Except now it's ruined. One of my great loves is singing in my truck. Where no one hears me but family or close friends. And she ruins it.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say any of this. I meant to stop writing at the fact that I was depressed. Now I do sound like a whiny spoiled brat.

I'm going to go read Ryo's e-mail. That will probably cheer me up. ANd I might bribe my sister. Or threaten her.

Light and happy.
Dark and dreary.

"Could it be that I am not alright? Could it be I have some screws loose in my mind?"

Hmm. Weekend. It was eventful.

On Saturday I almost pulled my shoulder out of its socket. Or at least that's what it felt like for a while.

See, we took my dog for a walk. Which actually meant we were trying to get her soaked down in this creek so that she wouldn't smell. Not that it means anything. I'm still going to have to give her a bath.

Anyways, the water was down. Way down. So guess who gets to walk in the water with the dog and splash water on her? Getting her sneakers (not my Vans or new shoes, thank God) and pants completely soaked in the process? Obviously not the mother wearing flip-flops and easy to roll up pants.

But as resigned as I was to my fate, I ended up dragging my mother in the water also. After accidentally splashing her with loads of water. I totally was aiming for the dog, I swear.

We were climbing out on the other side of the creek later. Basically up a steep ledge. In my favor, the dog practically pulled me up. Not much work on my part. Still, when I got up I turned around to make sure my mom would make it.

As I did, a squirrel popped out behind me. At that point I was lifting the lead over my head to let the dog switch sides. Then I was yanked to the ground. I immediately let go of the lead.

The first pain I felt was my shoulder. It hurt for the rest of the day if you used it at certain angles. Three of which, I discovered, are necessary for changing out of wet pants.

The second pain I felt was my ass. I still have a bruise there. Not fun.

Not to mention, my pants were covered in mud, so I got to go back into the creek and soak my pants even more. Then climb back up the ledge, this time without the dog.

Well, that was fun.

My niece and nephew are back. Mya has picked up a nickname for me. Tiffy.

Grr............................................

I'll fix that though. Sometime soon.

She also took a nap and woke up crying. All she wanted was her "mommy." Until I brilliantly discovered a way to get her to stop crying. I also brilliantly got to spend the next four hours playing Dora the Explorer games because of my brilliant idea.

Then, Mya would not go to sleep. According to my mom, she is used to sleeping with another body in the bed. Guess who got volunteered for this job?

I gave the kid half the bed. Half. She then pushed herself till I had a quarter. Then, both cats decided that they wanted to share my quarter. Effectively leaving me curled up into a tiny ball. Trying to get to sleep.

That wasn't going to work. After a while I scooted Mya over and lay down so that she couldn't take up much room. And the cats just disappeared. Apparently I was moving my feet a little too much. I mean, it's not like I planned that or anything.

In the middle of the night: me still not asleep. This actually more somewhere towards the end of the night, cause I went to bed around midnight. Anyways, all of sudden I hear screaming from which I manage to discern words.

"Apple juice!" "Apple juice!"

My thoughts: Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Apple juice. Oh, shit.

After tripping over the bike magically left by nephew, I managed to grab her apple juice and shove in her mouth. At which point she flopped back on the bed and fell asleep instantly. A couple of seconds later, I experimentally pulled the sippy cup thing out. No screaming. Success.

I eventually got to sleep. My mom later claimed that when Mya woke up in the morning I was talking in my sleep when I told her everything. Totally not possible, because I remember the whole ordeal. I was having a wonderful dream, the events of which shall not be disclosed here, and it was interrupted. Of course, even though I was asleep less than a minute later, the dream world was gone.

I hate kids. Not really. I can't say that without feeling guilty, because I love kids.

Not so much to have four like my mom. I just want two. Maybe three.

School is back tomorrow. Yuck.

Oh yeah. Everything else has been completely uneventful.

I think.