Extremely close, probably.

I mean it when I say it, even though I say it often and to a lot of people, because the fact of the matter is that I am too afraid of not saying it. I always think of Oskar Schell and the way he said, "Dad?" and his dad turned around and he hesitated and said, "Goodnight, dad," when he meant to say, "I love you, dad." But he didn't and then his dad was gone.


So I say it whenever I feel it. Because I'm too afraid of simply saying, "Goodnight." I say "I love you" out of fear. And love, obviously.


So I just began to cry tears because I didn't know what else to do.
All my love,
Addy


P.S. Changed my profile photo because I like this one better. It's me, age 4ish.

And with every breath I miss you. 

Day 05: Love.

Love is the way I watch his lips move when he talks.

Love is the way I feel about Katie and Avery and Bianca and Kaitlyn and Mallory and Hannah and the girls.

"What Is Love?" is a song by nevershoutnever.

Love is my hair when it's curly.

Love is the way I feel about the changes that have occured lately.

Love is the heartbreak when we saw her lying in bed, hairless and frail.

Love is the way our French class last year became some weird little family.

Love is the ukulele on my floor.

Love is September Vogue.

Love is rivalry basketball games.

Love is spontaneous complements.

Love is a feeling of both belonging to something and not belonging to anything at all at the very exact same time.

Day 02: Boys.

I have liked forty-six boys since the age of five. That's an average of just under five boys a year and nearly one boy every two and a half months. The truth is, boys don't like me. They just don't. At least, not the boys I fall into love with. I aim too high. I like boys who are entirely out of my league (for example, Talon Shumway - I loved him once). Boys don't like me and that's fine. But that's obviously never stopped me from liking boys.

I shall forever remember my first love. His name was Brandon. He sat next to me in first track kindergarten. He had dark hair and olive skin and pretty eyelashes. I sometimes would day dream about him (I've always been really good at daydreaming instead of listening in school). Then his family moved to Italy. And that was the end of that.

Since then it's all become some sort of a cycle, really. It goes a bit like this: See boy. Stare. Think about boy for many hours. Ask someone for his name. Stalk him for a bit. Get his number. Text. Become sort of friends. Text. Confess my love for him. Make things awkward. See new boy. Stare.

But things are slowly changing. I think I'm falling slowly in love with someone and that's scary. Cause this time, it might be for real. He's tall. He has dark hair and funny shoes. His car is in a state of constant messy-ness. He's intelligent. He wants to be psychologist. He remembers that I like to wish on clocks. He likes techno music and freestyle rap. Sometimes he winks when he sees me across the room. He gives good hugs. I know him. I trust him. I like the shape of his eyes.

And I hate his on-again-off-again girlfriend.

Read a book.

All my love,

Addy

Dear Bandwagon: Is there room for me on this thing? Love, Addy

Day 01: Introduce me. Pictures and words.

figure 01.

figure 02.

figure 03.

Some part of me wants to be the woman in figure 01: classy, sophisticated, overdressed. And another piece of me wants to be the girl in figure 02 with messy hair and eclectic clothing. But I am nothing more than the girl in figure 03. & I am happy about that. I am green-eyed and sandy-haired and freckle-faced. I am in love with my backdoor neighbor, infatuated with a boy who is wildly intelligent, find Dakota Gosselmeyer (or whatever his crazy last name is) to be cute, and only now coming to reality with my romantic interest in all three of them. My favorite color is grey. I have exceedingly long eyelashes, and I love them. I am me. That is all.

If you're positively dying to know more about me, click here (it's just an old post about myself, really). Or keep reading for the next 30 days. You know, either or. [Edit: the hyperlink doesn't work, does it? Ha. Ha. Looks like you'll just have to read the bandwagon posts.]

Be euphoric about something worth being euphoric about.

All my love,

Addy

P.S. You bet I just snapped figure 03 from my computer photobooth.

The truth is this:

I'm just going to admit it. Put it out there into the void. Because I feel like if I put down on paper (or, in this case, on blog) it becomes real - no longer a whispered secret or a nagging thought.

My infatuation with Perfect Boy Whom I am Infatuated With is merely that: an infatuation. I want to know him. I want to be his friend. He's an interesting creature. The truth is this: Perfect Boy Whom I am Merely Curious About is a cover-up for the truth.

I am in love with someone else and I am terrified.

There. Now it's real.

All my love,

Addy

The worst day of my life.

This day is the worst day of my life. It's fine. Except for it's not, on account of the following facts:
1.) My math test was ridiculously hard.

1b.) I probably failed.

2.) My dear friend Sarah is moving to Virginia.

3.) I am grounded until my grades = 3.5 cumulative.

3b.) I am grounded forever, probably.

4.) Thanksgiving makes me fat-ish.

5.) I love a boy I cannot love.

5b.) Not to mention, I also still love that other boy.

Okay, it actually is sort of fine. My life isn't bad. My life isn't actually that bad on account of the following facts:

1.) I don't think I failed my French quiz.

2.) This week is only two days long.

3.) Being grounded is an excuse to read lots and lots of fat, fat coffee table books.
3b.) Like the time I was grounded and read all seven Harry Potter books in one week. It's happens.
4.) I have dance tonight.

5.) The other boy told me I have a cute laugh and complemented my singing voice. And then we sang a song.

5b.) My mind has been successfully occupied replying that scene for several days.

6.) I am becoming better friends with the funniest boy in the world named Hunter Wilson.

Look. More reasons to be happy about my life than sad about it. Even though today is the worst day of all my other days I have lived. It's fine.

Stop making "to do" lists.

All my love, Addy

P.S. I desperately need a new dream catcher, considering I have had the most terrible dreams lately. Huzzah.

You're just as sane as I am.

I figured it out! I figured it out! I have, more than once, been compared to Luna (Loony) Lovegood. I take that as a complement. I know my last post was full of back and forths between Herminone and Neville, but, alas, I have now realized, that I am much more like Luna Lovegood than anyone else. I'm thrilled.

On a seperate note: everyone knows who I love, no? Well, I now love two boys. I feel like a rebel! Call my house (I got my phone taken) if you want to know who it is. Ha! (Katie. You know. Don't tell Zack.) I sung a duet with him while he played the guitar. He complemented my voice. He has nice eyelashes and funny sweaters. Maybe we'll love each other one day. Huh.

You're just as sane as I am.

All my love, Addy.

Confessions of a people watcher.

I watch people. Everywhere. We went to get ice cream yesterday and I was enthralled.

I watched, curiously, as four teenagers bought ice cream and sat down.

I studied the three girls in cheer sweats filling their cups.

I commented on the family that walked in.

Harli and Will thought it was funny. They think I'm odd, with my wild obsession with people. But aren't people thrilling for you? Or is it just me? Take, for example, the four teenagers. I eventually concluded they were on an awkward first date. The girls had done their hair and makeup; the boys looking freshly showered and slightly nervous... There's so much to wonder about! There was the girl in the shirt made of material that looked exactly like Minnie Mouse's dress. Do you think her parents love each other? Do you think she loves her parents? Do you think she likes the boy she was with? Where did she get that top? Did she steal it from Minnie? Do you think she'd lend that top to me? What about the boy she was with? Does he like books? Does he like her? What does he think of her shirt? As most people know, I live happily in my own little world. And most of that world is positively consumed with watching and wondering. I'm curious. I want to walk up and ask. I want to know these people personally. I want to walk up and say, "Do your parents love each other? Do you love her parents? Would you lend me that top?" But, of course, everyone would think, "Creepist!!" And the police would probably come and steal me away after the girl in the Minnie Mouse shirt filled a restraining order against me. I did - for the most part - spend the ice cream excursion encircled in social norm and general formality to strangers.

But, on my way out the door, we passed the four awkward-first-daters. They were clapping like Dumbledore. And I positively could not resist a single moment longer. I leaned into the table - wearing my rainboots and my favorite sweater and bright red lipstick, saying, "I like Dumbledore, too." I bit my tongue before asking to borrow her Minnie Mouse top.

Learn to say, "I love you" more often.

All my love, Addy.

Secrets.

Secret: I like court TV.

Secret: I come across as a darkly sarcastic cynic. I'm really only an optimist hiding behind my sarcastic remarks and my buns on top of my head.

Secret: I am not impressed with my grades.

Secret: I stress about things that I should leave behind.

Secret: I've never kissed anyone.

Secret: I'm a procrastinator.

Secret: I'm a pretty good liar.

Secret: I don't enjoy lying. Even if I am really, really good at it, I hate doing it. It eats away at me.

Secret: I am a guilty sinner.

Secret: I don't pray as often as I should.

Secret: I generally have ulterior motives for doing the things that I do - good or bad.

Secret: I wear my cheap jeggings way more often than I would like to admit.

Secret: I don't know what I am going to do with myself when I move out.

Secret: I still hate running. Even after nearly two years of consistent runs. I've run in 18 degree weather, snow eating away at my skin. I've run in 108 degree whether along the beach and stopped to watch dolphins. I still hate it.

Secret: I care. About everything. Everything. Even when I put on the great facade of "I'm Addy. I'm cool and collected and carefree." I'm actually far from cool, an absolute mess, and hardly carefree.

Secret: I covet Bianca's collection of sweaters.

Secret: I worry about my future every day.

Secret: I am happy about the changes.

Secret: I am happy about most things. I am, after all, an optimist.

What are your secrets? Will you comment and tell me a few?

Go running.

All my love, Addy.

I have lots of talents.

I'm learning something really important. It's okay to like myself just the way I am. Because I have many talents.

1.) I am really good at basing things on emotion instead of actual facts.

2.) I am good at making really ugly faces for pictures.

3.) I am good at not doing my hair.

4.) I am good at looking presentable with minimal makeup.

5.) I am great at not getting up on time.

6.) I am good at making darkly sarcastic remarks at terribly inappropriate times.

7.) I rock at sleeping during first period.

8.) I'm a fantastic procrastinator.

9.) I can pull off red lipstick. (I think.)

10.) I am good at blogging (right?).

11.) I rarely miss 11:11.

12.) I have a nice laugh.

13.) I am smart.

14.) My voice isn't half bad.

15.) I rock at being late for things.

16.) I can stare at him at not even notice I am doing so for several minutes at a time.

17.) I have very loopy handwriting. Someone even once said that it matches my mind. Thanks.

Wish on stars. And even airplanes.

All my love, Addy.

I am me.

And perhaps I like you.

I am scared of something.

It's called waking up one morning and being old. Like, very old. Like, thirty or something.... Anyway. I'm very scared of waking up one morning and being old and thinking, "I haven't done anything with my life." And therefore, I am going to start a bucket list. I would invite all of you to join me - please. But that's your choice. (Bi, Kat, Ave, Hayles, and Kaitlyn, you have no choice. You are just required to do a lot of these things with me.) Well. Today is my hundredth post! Huzzah. I'm very happy with the way this little blog has turned out, aren't you? Nonetheless, ladies and gentlemen. The Bucket List (or part of it at least):

1. Be on Wheel of Fortune, The Price is Right, Jeopardy or some funny game show like that.

2. Learn to yodel.

3. Go to Asia.

4. Go to Europe.

5. Eat something terrible tasting that I can brag about for a while.

6. Kiss on the first date.

7. Attend Midnight Mass.

8. Substitute a high school class.

8b. Be the coolest sub they've ever had.

9. Perform on Broadway.

10. Graduate from high school.

11. Throw a giant 11/11/11 party.

12. Be on a late-night talk show.

13. Get into a great college back east.

13b. Graduate from that college.

14. Get my drivers licence.

15. Meet a celebrity.

15b. And also possibly pet their hair.

15c. Unless that'll get me a restraining order.

16. Dye my hair.

17. Get a really cool job with bragging rights.

18. Pretend to be a man for an entire day.

19. Speak with a British accent for several days in succession.

20. Go on a huge shopping spree.

21. Pull an all-nighter on a school night.

22. Ask a stranger on a date.

23. Accept a dare.

24. Be on the news.
24b. People aren't only on the news because they do bad stuff like rob old ladies, okay?

25. Have a song I sing on Itunes.

26. See a million or so of my favorite musicians in concert.

27. Reject the boy every girl is dying for.
28. Wear stilettos where they aren't usually worn.

29. Live alone.

29b. In the coolest apartment/condo/house ever to be.

30. Have a fantastic photoshoot with people I love.

31. Buy a wedding gown.

31b. Get married.

31c. And try not to get divorced.

32. Ride in an actual train.

32b. Trax so does not count.

33. Dance solo with a professional company.

34. Be voted "Best Dressed."

35. Sleep past noon.

36. Crash a wedding.

37. Get a tattoo.
38. Get my typewriter fixed.

39. Play a game of quidditch.

39b. Because quidditch is now a real, actual sport. I promise you. Here's the link. npr.org even said so. They're very reliable. I'm being totally serious here.

I think that's sufficient for now. Who's joining me?

Go play quidditch.

All my love, Addy.

(Comment and tell me which numbers you're joining me for. We start now.)

It's fine.

Sometimes I'm like, "Waaaah! I have the worst life ever!" And then other times I'm all, "My life is the best life of all the lives! Yayy!" And then I feel bipolar. It's fine.

Also, last night, I danced with my headphones in - a full on dance, with leaps and turns and pointed toes and all that jazz - on a sidewalk in Salt Lake City. People looked at me weird. It's fine.

Cookies with raisins in them are mostly only salads.

All my love, Addy

This is me. That's all.

My name is Addy.

I like paintbrush pens, topknot ballerina buns, and live music. I enjoy books.

I detest feeling underdressed.

I'm rather a fan of Vogue magazine. I'd wear stilettos every day if that was at all practical.

I believe that the semi-colon is the dark horse of punctuation; we should use it more often. I text too much and then complain about my dislike of texting. I like red lipstick, Cormic McCarthy, wishing on clocks, and wearing dresses. I appreciate British humor, British playwrights, and British accents. Sarcasm is a friend of mine. I love my purse, poetry, and spiral bound notebooks.

I'm a stronger girl than I give myself credit for; I underestimate myself.

I'm a performer - I dance dances, sing songs, and enjoy Shakespeare rather a lot. I'm an oldest child, but much less responsible than my sister just younger than I. I have common sense, though I choose not to use it. I'm a night owl, and certainly not a morning person. I like caffeine.

I own seven pairs of jeans, though I usually wear the cheapest, comfiest pair. I don't love makeup - but at the same time, I do. I fascinated by cat eye eyeliner and glitter mascara.

I like to lie on the floor and listen to classical music while reading fat novels. It makes me feel alive.

I am better than I used to be.

Here.

I don't have much to say. Here. Eat up some pictures I spent the last hour or so collecting. I have way too many. Which one is your favorite?

So glide away on soapy heels and promise not to promise anymore.

Hello, November. I am different this year.

It's a nice thought, if you think about it. How have you changed since last November? Have you changed since last November? "Why November?" you ask. I'll tell you why November. "Cause it's November right this moment." That's what I'd say. Have you grown? Shrunk? Cried more? Less?

I, for one, have grown in some ways. I have simply grown as a person. Matured? Well, I wouldn't use the word "matured" maybe... Anyway. I'm smarter. Brighter. And, in a funny way, younger. I'm a little more alive than I was a year ago. One year ago I was starting ninth grade. I don't know. It was... It just was. This year has taken growing and adapting and being and existing, and more than all of that, thriving. I had a few dark patches over the last year, but look at me now. I had to head off to a new school (which brought upon more tears than I've ever cried over any three consistent weeks maybe ever) (except possibly the first three weeks of my life) (my mom says I cried a lot when I was a newborn). But look! Look at me now! I am happy. I am classy. I am alive. As a dancer, I've grown incredibly. I've had strangers come up to me after a performance and tell me how lovely I am as a dancer. I've had a moment or two where I've been a little down on myself, but not anymore. I am happy and I am content and I am alive. I've made so many new friends since last November. I'm in love. I'm alive. I'm not afriad. I sleep less - and sometimes more. I am a little more out there, a little less afraid. I took away the nightlight (I'm a little more mature, I guess). My voice has matured and I've sung a few pieces that you wouldn't believe. I'm just happy. I'm so comfortable with who I am now. I am not afraid to not wear makeup to school (I didn't today). I am not afraid to talk to "cool people." I am happy to wear my hair on top of my head and run around like a wild thing.

Mostly, I'm at peace. I'm at peace with everything out there. And I'm happy. I'm a wild thing.

Stop simply existing.

All my life, Addy