I wonder what's the matter with me sometimes. I wonder why I'm not happy, why I can't just be simple and let everything slide. (Yes, I know I'm acting superior here.) But some people always seem to be happy. Either they accept the lie that is their lives, or they're too dumb to notice there's something wrong. But therein is another question: is anything really wrong with this world? Or do I just precieve it that way? I see something wrong with a world that praises malnutrition in a country that has plenty of food to get that svelte shape when millions are starving in third-world countries. I see something wrong in how we laud sports icons, paying them thousands per game, and cancer research is barely funded. I see something wrong in a society where segregation is still present and hate thrives. Is that just me? Am I the only one who sees this as a little off? Probably.
But then there are the people who do not recognize the world around them, the ones whose largest worry is finding that perfect dress and the lipstick to match it. Sometimes I wish I could be blithe and just not think for a while. It can get to be painful. Anyway............
I got Neil a minifridge. He'll be staying at Umass for the summer (he got the internship), so he really needed it. In turn, I get the car, but I also don't get to see him. Which really sucks cinsidering that he's cool and also the only one who knows what it's like living with mom and dad. oh well, there are always tradeoffs. He's happy, so it's cool.
I must remind myself to get gas for Bessie, Ca-Chunk, whatever you want to call it. I have exiguous funds, so this shall prove difficult. Must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job, must get job! WHEE! Fun with copying and pasting.
I go.

Whatever happened to american romance? All the sweet gestures and little looks seem to have been sucessfully contained in movies and books, leaving none for the present time. Everywhere I go in this highschool land, I see ass grabbing and girls smushed against lockers with a guy's tongue rammed down their throat. What happened to love and winning a girl's heart? Lust abounds in this new, "evolved" world. People thrive off violence and hard passion. I'm all for passion, but where's the sweet, gentle love I was lead to believe (again, by movies and books) exists? Don't girls still want to be swept off their feet? Or is that just me? Why are some people satisfied with sex? Why can't I be one of those people? I don't know what it is I want. But I do know I want something deeper, something more meaningful than just sex. This world does not exactly engender the soft emotion I'm looking for. Lust has become king and all hail. It's depressing, really.
I went to UMass Lowell today. Small campus, but not bad for a second choice school. It was an hour drive there. Mother talked about how I'm 'feeling.' *shudder, shudder* She wanted to know why I'm so unhappy in life. Oddly enough, I was honest. I told her that people disgust me and explained in detail why they do. I articulated on highschool. I told her that I am not recieving an education, I am being herded through crowded corridors to sit in uncomfortable chairs and plaster an intelligent smile on my face to ultimitely regurgitate facts upon a test page. Talk went on for about 15 minutes. Then she shifted to birth control and I told her that while most intelligent people practice contraception, the dullards do not. The end result will be the dumbing down of the nation (cheery, aren't I?). She decided this was the time to say that I should go to her for The Pill if I ever think about becoming sexually active. Talking with one's mother about sex is a very painful experience- joy.
I went over Amanda's house and watched a movie about russian water tentacles after dinner. And now, I'm sitting here wearing a hardening facial mask and typing. How interesting my life is. =) I go.

Okay. Now I know I'm getting pathetic. I've started looking at every guy who shows an interest in me as a potential date. I must stop that. I only beat myself up when I realize I'm doing it. It just kind of sneaks up on me. I just have to cease with the unconscious flirting and keep my nice teenage raging hormones in check. I hate being here and I hate being a teen. I'm in a class of idiots, cretins and sluts. This disgusts me. I have to go. Mom needs the phone.

I didn't pay much attention to physiology, but is a person supposed to feel icky for an entire weekend, continuing on monday? There seems to be something wrong. Nausea is NOT fun. Let this suffice as the reason I have not written in a few days.

A scary mormon person is trying to save me as of now. IM really has its disadvantages. They say I'll be saved if I read the book of Mormon. I told them I'd rather go to hell. Reason: hell makes a tasty bagel. I'm not against religion. I don't presonally believe in it, but I understand why people do. What I will not understand is why people feel the need to push their faith onto me. I respect their decision to believe, respect mine not to. In the end, it's my choice anyway. I went to church for 8 years. I never felt "close to God" or had a conversion experience that made me believe completely. There were too many holes. Too mant questions that religion left unanswered. So I chose not to believe. But people keep trying to force me!!!!!!!!!!! GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I got my prom dress today. Now I can laugh at all the chicks who spent way too much on a dress they'll only wear once ( I spent $22, baby!). It's yo!pink ( gasp! Kate's wearing a color?!) and it's beautiful. Someone has to inform me when the prom is, exactly. I'm not sure whether it's May 25 or 26. I'm going with Heather.... still have to explain that one to my mother.
"No, Mom, I'm not gay. I just don't want to go with any of the boys from BR. Yes, Mom, I know what people will say- what they've been saying all along."
I don't know why, but that kind of thing doesn't bother me. I don't have issues with being popular like my mother does.... When she was in highschool she joined all these clubs to meet people and have friends. But I don't really care. People have always been sure I'm a lesbian. I'll just use this to throw it back in their faces. I don't care about the gossip or the pithy rumors. But Mother will. She's trying to live vicariously through me. She wants me to be successful and popular. I just don't feel the need. Well, enough on that.
I WON!!!! THE MORMONS GAVE UP! WHEEEE!!! I love breaking people :-) It takes time and patience, but I'm very good at it. *EVIL LAUGH*
I don't know what to do tonight. Amanda's away from home, Kat's away from the U.S., Kirsten's sick, John's annoying, Joe's with his girlfriend, the other Joe's working ( I think), Heather is too far away, Colleen.... I wonder what she's doing. But I have no money. Shoot. I need a job. Badly. I wonder if I could work it out where I don't have to come in, they just send me the paycheck.
I'm going to UMass Amherst tomorrow to tour, be interviewed and hang out with my brother. Should be joyous. Maybe I can get something random pierced. Oh, the joy. I go now.

Despite my most valiant attempts, I was awakened this morning to wonderful loud noises. Turns out, the honeypot has parked right behind me (if you don't know what a honeypot is, consider yourself lucky). I can't leave the house and no one's awake yet, so I've resigned myself to blogging and making copies of Lola Rennt for myself and Amanda. I have little to no money and must find a way to entertain myself without using up too much gas. Any ideas?
I will be going to Umass on thursday. My mother has it all planned out... she's organized a tour of the campus, sitting in on a class, a meeting with admissions and a dinner with my brother. I'm supposed to come home promptly at 5 the next day. Where am I going to fit the fun? I want to go and see what life is like there, not spend my time sucking up to an admissions guy to get in to the college. I want to see my brother. He's the only one in this family that I like. I asked my mother why I could not stay for a little bit longer. It turns out we're going to New Hampshire....... joy of joys (sarcasm sign). When I pressed for another date, she told me she didn't want me taking the bus alone to Umass and back again. She wants me to wait until I've learned how to take the bus. HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO LEARN IF SHE WON'T LET ME GO?! Then, as I pressed on this issue, she pulled out the next argument. Apparently, she was stuck on a campus being chased by a bunch of drunk guys ( but of course, she wasn't drunk, not my pure mommy! .....oh, spare me). So she's apprehensive about me going to Umass... she's afraid I'll be corrupted by the bad men and their drugs. Oh, c'mon, Mother, I've been to parties where people offered me drugs. If I wanted to get drunk or take drugs, I would have done it long before now... give me a little credit. But, no, I'm the girl, I must be sheltered. And then she acts like she's doing me this huge favor by allowing me to go to Umass. Neil did much more than me in highschool and he still gets trusted more than me... what gives?
Ah, christ, I'm just making myself angry. I'm going to go see if the honeypot has left yet.

I did not do a blog for yesterday as I was not home. My desire to see my brother overwhelmed the original misgivings I had about travelling with my mother. Will I never learn?
I entered the car well prepared, cd's, books, discman and walkman in tow. I also took a few sleeping pills (not that many, I just have a high tolerance for medication). I didn't want to have to talk to her for 2.5 hours. We were halfway down the street before she did the head tilt, opened her mouth and took a deep breath. I started to moan inwardly. She closed her mouth and I felt relief wash over me like a great blissful tide. Then she opened her mouth again. This time sound came out.
"So, where do you want to go to college, Kate?"
That started it. It was the genesis of all the prattle that would issue from her larynx for the rest of the ride. I would answer in as few words as possible, punctuated by random grunts, until lovely, lovely Unisom started to work and I drifted off into the soothing quiet of sleep. God bless drugs. I didn't wake until we were almost at Umass and pretended to sleep until we pulled into the parking lot. I managed to avoid most of the intellectually devoid chatter.
We arrived early, so we camped out in the lobby of some random building until Neil came along. We went to dinner at Panda East (the best chicken fried rice I have ever had!) where Mother terrorized the waiter and berated him for bringing the wrong dish. It was fun. In the way that fun can be tense and painful. Mother asked invasive questions and Neil was made to feel uncomfortable. I passed out in the car ride back. The sun had set, so it was easier to fall asleep this time. Neil was forced to humor Mother for the ride home. We (my brother and I) bolted from the car as soon as it came to a stop in our driveway and dove for the ca-chunk (my beloved caravan). I backed quickly down the driveway and off to the Grind. We talked for a while and went to Scholar's and Blockbuster to stave off returning home. By the time we got back, Mother had gone to sleep.

Ahh, the holidays. A time of family togetherness and love. Sure, in the Brady Bunch. In real life, it's a loathesome event designed to make the entire family hate each other. My brother has just returned from Umass to the comfort of Bridgewater and the unconditional love of my mother (sarcasm sign). My mother has been bugging him since he got into the car to come home about his attitude and asking nice questions about how his friend's suicide made him feel. The stupid, blithe bitch has since kept asking nice questions along that subject. Mother also got upset (to understate greatly) when my brother refused to talk to my grandparents when she tried to inflict the phone upon him. No one in the family likes to converse with the old people who spawned my mother- they are capable of talking for hours about nothing at all. It baffles the mind. However, my mother has this complex where she constantly tries to please them, so she phones them often and forces the rest of us to talk to them. The grandparent-people scare me. They embody what I never want to become- an old, senile, hypocondriac who chatters mindlessly and is nothing but a burden to all the people around. I must go....... Easter Dinner, yay! :P