A Post No One Will Ever Read, Probably

Sometimes I really wish I could hate you. You are (at your worst) absolutely infuriating, impossible to predict, stubborn and proud and contrary, and… to be honest, I’m pretty sure you don’t deserve me, sometimes. I am not being arrogant when I say I am an amazing friend, when I say that I am selfless, when I say that I care more about the happiness of others than I care about my own. It’s just a fact, sure as the rotation of the earth. Any one of our friends could tell you that. You can tell me that.

But it is that VERY fact- my goodness as a friend- that has gotten us where we are. I have never been more insulted in my life, and I can’t not care. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, because you are (at your best) brilliant and witty and generous, inspired and inspiring. You’re my *best friend.*

I just hate how fucked up everything has become. I hate that you won’t read this. I hate that you may not even want to.

I hate that I have no idea how much of this is all in my head.

{~]

{~]

A lot has changed since I last posted here, mostly being that… well… I’m not seeing you. And now you have no phone and no internet and if I can’t talk to you for REAL, I have to talk to you through this blog.

I have never felt more depressed/angry/frustrated/lonely/GUILTY in my life. I’m really not enjoying the feeling much.

There was a Sidewalk Cafe wrock show, and I should have been happy and I wasn’t and it just… sucked.

Highlights:

• Getting hit on by a drunk guy. It was like halfway through the Mudbloods’ set, and this dude kind of muscles in behind me. I figure he’s just an aggressive mosher and turn back to the stage, and then I feel his hand on my back. Shudder. I look at him and he smirks a mighty smirk, and all I can think is “Really? Is he really gonna do this? Now?” and he’s all “Sooo… you like these guys?”
  Be still my heart.
  I smile weakly (I was in a foul mood anyway) and give some vague answer and try and look elsewhere. He strokes my back again and I turn to glare at him and he tips his beer bottle in my direction, offering me a sip. For a split, miserable second I actually consider taking it, but this douche is clearly not a wrock fan and if I’m gonna decide to drown my sad sad sorrows, it will not be with a drunken creeper. Apparently finally sensing defeat, he shoved through the crowd some to work his charms on Lauren.
  I’d have been flattered, in a way, had he not hit on every warm body with two X chromosomes in the room.
• Me: *cuddles Lauren*
  Lauren: “Hi! Why sadface?”
  Me: “Hayley, ahem, broke her phone.”
  Lauren: <=[ “Well… maybe… now she’ll be allowed to go to Terminus?”
  … oh, how hope springs eternal.
• My Half popped open for the first time in… well, since you told me. During Teenaged Werewolf.
• After the show we were overheated and hoarse, and I needed a milkshake. We go to a diner across the street. I order a chocolate milkshake. I get what tastes like car battery acid mixed with coffee ice cream. Request CHOCOLATE. Recieve concoction that appeared to be vanilla ice cream blended with Quik. It was a kind of horrible cap to a kind of horrible night.

On the train ride home, Amanda and I discussed flps and why I’m so damn miserable (feeling guilty over things I can’t control) and it became abundantly clear that I have a… well, a Saving People Thing.

Oh, the things we learn from books.

Day 8: <=[

…my Half didn’t come today.

Call me a dork, but I kind of really wanted to graduate wearing it.

Sad hat.

Day 8: Graduated! (well, in a few hours)

Princeton High School, I absolve myself from thee.

Things I will never have to do again:

• Wake up at 6:30 so I get to class on time
• Try and unjam an overstuffed locker
• Look up every fugging time one of Haley Randazzo’s friends shouts her name in the hallway
• Participate in a “thoughtful discussion” of good literature with Emily Lipphardt
• Take a math class
• Take a gym class
• Get yelled at for texting/eating/chewing gum/wearing a hat
• Line up in an orderly fashion

Which isn’t to say there aren’t things I’ll miss. People I’ll miss.

But I’m SO ready to be done.

Day 7: I See You In Seven Weeks!

The title doesn’t *really* have anything to do with what this post talks about, but it’s still true.

Good evening, Hayley, it’s Tuesday, June 17th, and I’ve been away from my computer all day. That is why this post, like La Boheme, comes in four acts parts:

Part One: My Half

It didn’t come today. It has now been a week. The way I see it, there are four (ha! sub-parts!) options, each less likely than the one before it…

1. The package got lost/damaged in the mail, and I’ll never get it
2. It is still on its way, but veryveryvery late for some unknown reason
3. There was a mistake in the address and it ended up in Akron again and you’ll need to resend it
4. You lied to me and didn’t mail it at all and were merely hoping I wouldn’t notice, and plan on sending it the second you get back.

… yes, okay, that last one is grasping at straws. But at least in that version of the story, my Half still exists.

Part Two: Roxanne

Swear to God, lately I’ve just been seeing her everywhere. Today’s wasn’t as uncannily lookalike-tacular as some, but she was wearing a blue dress so she got more points.

YES, that was totally worth a part.

Part Three: Ender’s Game

I bought Ender’s Game on that day when I got that big ol’ pile of books you told me I should have read years ago, but only just started (and finished) it today.

I enjoyed it thoroughly. It was kind of Hogwarts-in-Space, but in a super intense, unwhimsical way. And it was very, very masculine. The way he wrote the narrative was just very… instead of focusing on interpersonal dynamics, it was group dynamics; everything was strategy. It was fascinating. I recommend it.

Part Four: Keeping Faith

I rewrote the kiss last night, and something FUGGING CRAZY happened.

I wrote it from Faith.

And… and I think it works.

Which isn’t to say that I’m happy with it–I’ll probably end up more finicky with this scene than any other. I’d say I may not even let you read it when you get back, but we both know that’s not true. Basically I love what I’m saying, but not how I’m saying it. Not yet.

You know… it’s funny. The whole project is called Keeping Faith, but the more I write it and the more clear it becomes, the more that I feel that David’s the one I’m losing.

Odd.

Day 6: La Boheme

So I’m working as a dresser for our local theatre’s production of La Boheme. This is cool for several reasons, including

1. Amanda’s in it.
2. Um, LA BOHEME.
3. Each costumer gets one principle to sort of focus on and I’m working with Musetta and the actress, Jennifer, is nice and sweet and funny and awesome.
4. Cierra will get to see a performance.
5. Seriously, La Boheme. And Musetta.
6. Working at McCarter (the theatre) makes me think Faith-y thoughts.
7. One of the other dressers is Shannon Dean… who happens to be the younger sister of Brendan Dean, whom you’ve heard me mention xD
8. Shannon is telling all these cute Baby!Brendan stories

But I’ll be working a dress rehearsal Thursday night, probably around when you get back. Luckily cell reception is good, but still.

So, WOOYAY.

[EDIT]

Oh by the way, we made Kathleen get Skype.

WIN!

Day 6: Fuck the Fucking Postal Service

I want my fucking Half.

Day 6: Very EARLY Day 6

So it’s almost 2AM and I’m having Graham help me with my GovPol final because I was too busy watching the Tony Awards to do work.

Anyway, Kathleen ended up hijacking his computer for a while (long story) but the MORAL of said story is that Kathleen Slocum is exceedingly cool.

Which you knew.

But I’m just sayin’.

… it’s possible I’m writing this blog post just to avoid actually doing work.

kfine. back to the political situation in Iraq.

Day 5: Remember That One Time…

… a few posts ago when I said I thought I’d figured out The Kiss?

Well I’m writing it.

And by writing I mean drafting.

VERY VERY ROUGH DRAFTING.

I have a few metaphors I’m playing with that I like a lot and I’m trying to figure out how to execute them but…

…but it’s not forced. It’s not something I made up or something I’m making them do. It’s them. It’s 100% Faith and David.

And I’m just… in awe of them.

 

I love this. Thank you for making me do this. Thank you for making me remember that I love this. Even if nothing does ever come of it. You’ve still not convinced me that I should even try to see if anything will.

But I’m writing it anyway.

Day 5: Why the Hell Aren’t You Here?!

Well first of all, today is Father’s Day, and my sister was home and we were having Clan Bartels bonding and it was all kinds of fun, and then I was like “awwwh, poor Judge Hoover!” because your dad was missing two of his girls. Sadness!

But.

Tonight is the Tony Awards. Dan Radcliffe is presenting, all sorts of awesome shows are going to perform numbers, and… and…

AND THE ORIGINAL CAST OF RENT IS REUNITING. FOR ONE LAST TIME. BEFORE THE SHOW ENDS.

I can’t tape it for you, but I’m sure it’s on youtube somewhere. Go look!

I miss you.