Day 06: Today. But actually yesterday, too.

Today is boring. Why do you want to hear about it? Because the only exciting thing that has happened so far is the fact that I totally drove by myself today. And I didn't even suck. This is exciting cause I have only driven 11 times in my entire life and I don't have a license (only a permit). The point is, yesterday was a little more exciting and I don't think today's getting any more thrilling any time soon.

Mostly, things have been a little more than beautiful lately. I mean, I've been euphoric about everything. I've had some really good days and yesterday was very possibly one of the best days of my life. It was the best day of my life for no reason at all. I was happy about everything and everything fell into place and I used a media pass to get into a sold out basketball game and Dakota proclaimed my cute-ness in front of all of his friends and everyone was happy and I drank tea with Roah and went to bed late.

Not to mention, the semester is over and my grades are a million times better than I thought they would be. Now, finally, I feel like the new year has begun.

Have a good day. You deserve it.

All my love,

Addy

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 04: No one wants to hear about what I ate.

So instead of writing about what I ate today, I had this whole entire post set up about why everything is fine even though it was all completely a sarcastic, cynical complaint about my life and why I am stressed. So I deleted it. Because in real life, everything is fine. Even if it's also entirely imperfect. The following is a list of thirteen reasons everything is fine. In real life.

1.) Jake Meyer told me I look good. Everyday. It's fine.

2.) The English girls read my blog. It's fine.

2b.) As does Karissa. It's fine.

3.) My hair is soft today. It's fine.

4.) I spoke to Dakota for a total of three seconds. It's fine.

5.) I still think Cache is the cutest thing ever. Plus, I still want him a teeny, teeny bit. Mostly, I think, because I now know he likes someone else. Which made the day exciting because I got to stare at him and laugh at his jokes and hope he laughed at mine. It's fine.

6.) I got to see that boy that I actually love whose name I refuse to put on the internet cause no one can know. Except for Katie and Avery and Hayley and Bianca and Ari and Sarah and Shelbie and Mallory and Karissa. But that's all. No one else can know. The point is, I saw him and we chatted and I was entirely smitten by his charm and lovely good looks. It's fine.

7.) My grades are okay. They aren't as good as I'd like them to be, but they're okay. They're better. It's fine.

8.) Today was Thursday. As in, The Almost Friday. That's good. It's fine.

9.) I get to cover the LP/AF game for some newspaper thing I don't really understand, but I'm still ultra-excited. It's fine.

10.) Talking of newspaper, I feel really good about my piece for this month. It's fine.

11.) It's nearly February, and you know what February means! That's right! National Bird-Feeding Month! It's fine.

12.) We came into Journalism today to find pictures of cats in tutus and cats in teacups and cats curled up looking at you with pleading eyes on all of our computers. Mrs. L-S stuck them up. She's weird and probably my favorite woman ever. I desire to be be her very best friend even though she's my teacher. It's fine.

13.) Tomorrow, I shall nap. The quarter shall be over and everything shall be fine. I will refuse to worry and I will have a fresh start. My new year officially begins tomorrow.

Everything, per usual, is fine. I'm sure of it.

Bake something tasty.

All my love,

Addy.

Day 03: The Parental Supervision

These are my parents. Someone once referred to them as Barbie and Ken, which I found mildly hilarious. (And quite possibly true. I mean, look at them.)

He plays the guitar. She plays the piano. He sings. She doesn’t. She’s good at math. He isn’t. She is a runner, and so is he. He is a human performance and organizational coach. She is a landscape designer. They do yoga. They are in love.

While most marriages seem to be falling apart, my parents are falling deeper into love every single day. They make out on the couch and at the grocery store and in the car. While the car is in motion. It’s fine.

I have his personality and her cheekbones.

Yesterday, they were teaching me not to run into the road. Today, they are teaching me how to drive upon that road. Yesterday, they were watching me breathe while I slept. Today, I am creeping into their room around midnight and kissing their temples. Yesterday, they were teaching me how to add. Today, they are checking my grades obsessively to make sure I get a good grade in College Preparation math. Yesterday, they were reading my stories about pixies and bunny rabbits. Today, they are watching me write and begging me to write professionally. Yesterday, they were listening to me screech on my violin. Today, they are hearing me play Bach concertos and sing in front of large crowds. Yesterday, they were running as I rode my bike next to them. Today, they are sending me out to run miles on my own. Yesterday, they put me into dance class. Today, they are watching me do pirouettes on pointe.

Tomorrow, I’m going to live outside of their house. And I will miss our arguments about my skirt being too short or my grade being too low.

Some days, they are my best friends. Other days, they are my parents. I guess that’s just the way things go. I love them very much and I know they reciprocate those feelings. "I love you to the stars and back," I said in elementary school. "I loved you first," my dad would say. "Do I get a kiss?" was my mom's constant question. I love them to the stars and back. It's very true.

Keep your chin up in the face of adversity.

All my love, Addy

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