“Will you just shut up and live?”

Tyler came back on August 3rd. August 5th, I saw him for the first time all summer. There were still sparkles on his backpack from my skin, even though it was three months after I’d fallen asleep on it in the back of a biology classroom.

When I woke up that morning, each individual limb felt like a geometry textbook–heavy, useless, and completely not worth the effort it would take to drag it around. I nearly lost my right contact and didn’t even have time to make coffee to nurse my insomnia hangover. My mind was a haze and I could not remember what happened the evening before, only that it had resulted in getting five hours of sleep on a summer night. Life was a mess. I was a mess. I had too much baggage and too little space.

You know how you take comfort, during the craziest times in your life, in the thought that you’re alone in your confusion? That your friends are leading stable, familiar lives back home, and will be there for you to return to?
It never works out that way. At least, it didn’t for us.

We swapped a glass full of milk chocolate granita almost as fast as we swapped secrets, skipping from faraway Europe to life stateside in a matter of seconds. The phrase “and I thought I had it bad” soon became overused. Almost three hours of nonstop talking had occurred before a massive helping of sugar-coma-in-a-bowl shut us both up.

On the way home, we applauded random passersby in the 42nd Street subway station, paying particular attention to uptight pricks in Brooks Brothers business suits with too much in their briefcases and too little time. On the E train, we hopped from one car to the next every time it stopped, dreaming of mayhem worthy of the Step Up 2 opening dance sequence. Switching to the 7 train, I tried to have a normal conversation with him while fully aware that he’d constructed a shirt penis and belted his backpack to his pants.

This is the guy I trust with everything?

But of course.

About a month and a half into summer and the only thing that turned out as planned was that we changed. Apart. Yet still in the same direction, ending up in the same place. Which, when it comes to people you care about, is the biggest stroke of luck you can hope for.
We didn’t have any answers after the day was done. Hell, we had more questions. But it didn’t matter, because we had the real answer, the one to the question neither of us needed to ask. And because of that one answer, we believed that all the other things would eventually make perfect sense.
The answer? No matter what happened, we would have each other’s back.

At the start of the day, tomorrow in its uncertainty was bleak and terrifying. At the end, it looked promising, every possibility breathing mischief; because you know what your life boils down to, every time, every tragedy?

Your friends.

Welcome home, Tyler!
I think the city missed you almost as much as I did.

Prelude (First Band, English)
“Happy Inauguration Day.
President Obama, you will be forced to make some tough decisions. Follow Bruce Wayne’s lead and make the right ones, because even if short-term America resents you for them, long-term world history will remember you. Well.
They didn’t start dissecting Lincoln’s second inaugural address until long after he was dead anyway.

Townsend Harris High School
1/20/09
Writing Process – 6
Kari Wei

*written on Microsoft Word*
This fill effect is called daybreak, which is actually quite fitting for the occasion.

Inauguration Day.

          A new day dawns for America- and for the universe. Because no matter how far we have fallen in the public eye, this is still the greatest country in the world. We are the focal point in the international eye. Our glass ceiling, albeit still intact, has 18 million cracks within it. Our president- our president- is a half-African man, and a full American man.

            President Barack Hussein Obama.

            President Barack Obama.

            President Obama.

            Washington. Jefferson. Madison. Lincoln. Jackson. Kennedy. Johnson. Reagan. Clinton. Bush. Obama.

            Welcome to a new day, America. Welcome to change. For better or for worse, we are moving- forward or backward, we are moving, and this man has both hands on the steering wheel. We, America, we, the people of the world, the next generation and the future of the universe, pledge to follow you wherever you may take us.

            You are both the white knight and the dark knight. You will maintain a beloved public image while simultaneously making the right decisions even when they do not please everyone. You are Barack Obama, 44^th President of the United States of America, the leader of the modern world. You will uphold our constitution, our bill of rights, our spirit, and our hearts. You are the colors I use to write this (red, white, blue). You are the flag. You are America, and America is you.

            Good luck.

http://littleblueriver.wordpress.com/

Blog of another more recent and erstwhile partner in (high-school) crime, Ivy. Also worth your time. I would be much obliged if you would make her statistics look like they were on steroids.

Enjoy.

http://andraxx.wordpress.com/

The above is a link to the blog of my new but nonetheless important comrade, Max. It is worth perusing, perhaps even more so than my own little ventbox here.

So GO, GO, GO! Increase the statistics he sees whenever he logs onto his dashboard! Help the line on the graph reach epic heights!

No, really. Check it out.

I don’t have time for more than a short entry. But I’d just like to say this;

everyone these days goes around saying, “oh, I never judge the books by the cover. I hate people like that. I hate posers.” They’re so convinced of their hate that they go on to truly believe they don’t judge.
… Really?

I often find that the ones who are absolutely certain that they simply do not judge are the most judgemental.
We’re humans. Humans judge. We ASSuME. At first glance, your mental database on the people around you is already busy registering a myriad of aesthetically-based speculations. The question is not whether we judge (face it, we do); rather, it is whether we allow our judgments to dictate our actions.

I don’t give a shit what you think when you see someone. But to let those thoughts get in the way of digging a little deeper (“oh, if she dresses like THAT she must not be worth getting to know”/”if he hangs with THOSE guys he must be such an asshole”); well, fuck you. It’s not true. I’ve made that mistake in the past. I’ll make it again. I can admit it because I know I’m imperfect. Admitting it also makes possible for me to try my best not to repeat it.

So next time you see that girl in the hallway or that guy on the stairs, do a mental double take. Examine all the unconfirmed and preconceived notions you have about them. Then approach them- using only what you know, not what you think.

You’ll be surprised.

She left me this blog:

Spread the love!
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Blogging

Hey, hey, hey. Tis’ Nira and let me fill you in on Kari. She is probably the kindest and most beautiful person you will ever meet, so if you fuck with her, I guarantee  that you will end with your head shoved up your ass. She is funny, unique, and completely understanding. She will never judge you and she is there for you through thick and thin. Though if you want to see her you might need to look around the ground…check your shoes to make sure you don’t step on her! L-O-L! If you ever need an intelligent conversation or if you just want to talk about the weirdest stuff ever, she is your girl. She has a wonderful sense of humor and she is open to new ideas and because of her awesomeness she deserves the most life could ever offer!

Now everyone should write what they love about Kari in a comment. Gotta spread the love people. I am sure she will comment back about what she thinks about you ♥

I promptly informed her that other than herself there would be absolutely no commenters on the blog.
About half a second later, I got a new notification.

Omg! You have such a nice friend Kari, she completely spoke my mind!

I don’t remember a really funny and priceless moment with you…. We had too many. I miss our summer phone calls, and then you were the bird lady, and i tried ruining Breaking Dawn for you.

I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!
Posted by Nira on October 12, 2008 – Sunday 7:05 PM

Oh dear.
And then this happened.

Ok Kari, I came on myspace just to write this:

You are the best person in the whole wide world. You’re kind, smart, pretty, and always there for me. You’re worth me dragging my ass to the computer and looking for this blog on myspace, which knowing me and my lazy self, means a lot.
I luv you, and I’ll always be there for you.
As Shakespear wrote in The Tempest, “The past is prolouge.”
I haven’t let you down yet, and I promise I won’t ever.

I love you with all of my fucking heart.

Your Sister,

Mara-Chan
Posted by Rose on October 23, 2008 – Thursday 5:36 PM

I shed a couple uber-sentimental tears for them both before firing off a disjointed, nonsensical retort that was most likely only crafted due to the fact that it was past 1 AM when I wrote it.

I like really really really really really love you guys.

My heart spontaneously combusts in my chest at the thought of your model-perfect faces and smokin’ stick-thin-yet-curvy bods.

My cellphone is forever open to you both at whatever time of day, even when I’m crapping on the toilet; unless it’s out of battery in which case you can leave hysterical voicemails hurling profanities at me in as many different languages as you can think of.

My best pictures that weren’t taken by me were taken by you.

When I grow up and we rent flats in Soho and hit the NYC nightlife/club circuit you can divide me up Persephone-style or we can all live together and our flawless faces will appear in threes on Page Six for prepubescent, immature, idiotic high school boys to adorn their lockers with.

And I trust you both not to drop my iPod when you borrow it. Which is saying a lot.

Like, as in, I trust you more than I trust myself.

I really shouldn’t be getting this up-close-and-personal this early in my blogging lifespan but fuck it; I just had an epiphany of sorts and it might be marginally beneficial to share it. And if it’s not? What-fucking-ever. At least I have the words saved somewhere.

I just finished a book called “Sloppy Firsts” by Megan McCafferty. I thought it might echo with my recent, angsty-teen mindset. It did. It went above and beyond the call of duty. And this is what I learned.

a) Making sure things with me and the one guy who’s ever really appreciated me for who I truly am are where they should be is more important than getting a conventionally “cool” boyfriend or hooking up with guys or being wanted by them
b) Getting a first kiss that really means something is worth more than getting it over with just so I don’t have to feel like a loser of a lip-virgin at parties
c) Actually doing my homework, not taking naps in Ms. Reilly’s geometry class, and bringing home the best grades possible to my dad is more important than hanging out and eating frozen yogurt and getting fat no matter how low the calories are [not dissing frozen yogurt btw; red mango = orgasmic.]
d) Making friends that will stay true is more important than making friends that will look good in pictures
e) Hanging out with my “sister” and really listening to her is more important than shopping for overpriced clothes that I don’t really love
f) Practicing my violin and not losing touch with the gift my mother gave me whether or not it takes me really far is more important than refreshing my Facebook to see if I got any more comments on my profile picture

My excuse for all of this was that I already have the friends-for-life; I don’t need any more. I don’t care if people like me for all the wrong reasons as long as I can have a good time. So maybe that makes sense. But maybe it’s not enough. Why not make more lifelong friends? Can you ever have “too many” true friends? Hell no. And in allowing myself to think otherwise, I might lose the true friends that I already have. And then what the fuck would I be waking up for?

I go to high school every day worrying about how I act, how I look, and who I’m with at all times just to come home and wonder why I’m alive. I’ve always known that it’s not worth it but I thought it was worth trying for a while. Well, it’s been a month of proverbial PMS, and I was right. It’s not. And fuck trying.

This is who I am. Either you’re comfortable with it, or you’re not.

Now the only thing that remains is seeing whether I have the strength to follow up.