Don't Touch my Mustache

Sometimes I Wonder...

... if you  really understand the power you have over me.

Do you get that one disapproving comment from you sends me into a pit of depression for at least a few hours, though often I will remember it for months, if not longer?

That every time you call me immature it makes me feel like the scum of the earth, unfit to dwell in the presence of others?

That my opinion of anything could be changed in a blink, no matter how firmly I believed it, just because you gave a different opinion?

That the thought of damaging you in the slightest way makes me feel so much guilt I could just claw my own skin off?

That just the sight of you with another makes me turn greener than a cucumber, madder than the hatter, with envy?

That I would do anything just to make you happy?

Hopefully you don't get it--because if you did, the way you treat me despite this knowledge could be considered quite cruel. 

I need to just learn to be happy with myself.

Marchin' On

...for all of the times we've stopped,

for all of the things I'm not...

Older Brother?

more like....

My secret favorite person ♥

He's the older, wilder, more athletic, self-confident, musically inclined, irresponsible, rational, mature, financially unsavvy, horny version of me.... Okay so we're really nothing alike--but I think we still make it work beautifully. 

One of Those Rare Moments...

...where there is nothing but smiles,

and the only thing to worry about is not falling off of the person giving you a piggy-back

Once Upon a Time

The closest I've ever gotten to a fairytale...

Snow White

I don't know if I particularly like this picture, just because the angle and tilt of my head is kind of awkward, but looking at it made me realize something...

I like my pale skin.

Or at least I do during the winter.  But this was huge for me, considering for years that has been one of the things I hated most about myself--one of the two things I thought about constantly, as if everyone was laughing at the mere sight of me because of it.  I could be in the middle of a really meaningful conversation, or even just pass by someone in the halls, and have them blurt out "You know, Coree, you're really pale!!" as if I didn't already know. 

Sometimes people get more persistent.  I'll say something quickly like "Yeah, I know" and try to get back to what we were talking about; and it's not uncommon for them to completely ignore my attempts to stay focused with "No, like, seriously, you're super white.  You should go out in the sun more."

But I digress.

Now, I think it's rather elegant looking.  If my hair were just a bit darker and my freckles perhaps a bit more defined it would be perfect.  In the olden days fair skin was considered the more beautiful of the spectrum, right?  I'm aware that's outdated--but at least I'm not the only one.

Hopefully my future black husband likes my fair skin, too.

Connect the Dots

If tattoos weren't against my religion and personal beliefs, you would totally find this on my leg.

My True Identity

I love you now,

and I'll always love you, so walk with me 'til the end of the road.

Too School for Cool

 

Yeah.  Every once in a while I like to try and pretend I'm a cool kid.

Far East Drama Auditions

Tonight I find I am having difficulty willing myself to going to bed.

Earlier today, after school, I auditioned for Far East Drama.  

Now, acting is not something I am very experienced at all in.  I have auditioned for a play (though I try to forget that experience), performed a few monologues for my drama class, and performed one monologue in front of real people.  It scares me out of my pants and hours before I am expected to perform I start to shake and feel sick to my stomach and can't think about anything else except for the performance I am, in my head, probably about to screw up.

And you know what?


I love it--more than almost anything else.  And I'm pretty good for a beginner, too.  The freedom and expression of capturing the emotions of another and portraying them to the world with my own body is absolutely breathtaking. 


The audition went okay, there are definitely ways I could improve, but I think I gave it a good shot.  I projected, enunciated, and wasn't embarrassed to scream at the top of my lungs at my pedophile husband.  Of course I think my blocking could have been better and I could have been more free with my gestures... but I was good.

The real question is: Was I good enough?

The thought of not getting in is more overwhelming than the thought of getting in.  All of my friends are theater nerds.  All of my friends auditioned and, for them, narwhals would fly before they didn't make it on the Far East Drama team.  They're so experienced and skilled that it is awe-inspiring just watching them rehearse for such things.  If I don't make it in then I'll be the outcast--just like when I was the only one not in the play.  I'll be the kid that doesn't know any of the inside jokes so they just have to stand there and nervously giggle, pretending they have a clue what's going on.  I'll be that kid feeling left out because they have nothing to do after school and all of their friends are occupied... with each other!  I have been that kid far too many a time.  I want this to be different.

And so, I can't bring myself to go to bed.  That would only mean I'd have to wake up, and then that would mean I'd have to go to seminary.  After seminary, the seconds probably feeling like hours, I would walk to Mrs. Deakins' room with Sarah like every day, only this time I wouldn't be thinking about her and the bodily functions we're probably discussing--I'd be thinking of that giant sheet of paper on the door that might say my name on it.  Of course, all my friends will approach and nod or giggle or shout with excitement that they're on the list.  A few strangers would wander over, letting out a huff and stomping away to see that they didn't make it.  And then finally I'd get up the courage to go look.  Oh, the embarrassment if my name isn't there!  It would be so hard to act supportive and proud of my friends, while trying desperately to hold back the tears of disappointment.  I'd go throughout my day feeling like poo at first.  Then as time went on it would wear off and instead I would feel an overwhelming... numbness.  I wouldn't see my friends anymore or pay attention to their silly antics.  I wouldn't be able to observe the other angry or crestfallen rejects.  

I would only see me, the one who failed, the one who was going to be left out again.  Yet, in situations like this, my head starts to look at the big picture.  I would start to think of the starving children in Africa and human trafficking and then I would know that I don't have it so bad, so then crying just wouldn't be an option, but neither would being happy.  I would feel like nothing in the world matters so why even bother caring.  This hopeless state would last for days, and probably even start to surface every once in a while while watching my friends live out my hopes and dreams of learning the ways of the theater.

If I went to bed then in the morning I'd wake up and find out if I made it into Far East, and that leaves the possibility of me not getting in.  And so, you see, I just can't go to bed.


Edit;: JK haha I got in :}

Simple Pleasures

 

Sometimes I wish I could be this girl again--unconcerned with what anyone else thought, overjoyed just to be able to kick her legs and make herself swing.

(Yeah, I think I was a pretty adorable child, too)

You and I

Because without her there's no reason for my story,

and when I'm with her I can always act the same.

Daily Wisdom from Bailey

"....if all else fails say things like "brutha, Shawta, Sista, and G-dizzle". Forgive the last one, I just love my white gangster side.

And the fact that I took time to write "gangster" correctly proves that I am not Gangsta and am actually whiter than rice.

*the white kind*"

- Bailey

This chick.  I don't think there's anyone else who makes me laugh like she does.

Dear Coree,

Please just learn from your past mistakes, rather than reliving them.  

Accept that you are loved for the current version of you--not the piece of crap you were up until a few months ago.  Getting into trouble, though it may get you attention, will not give you better relationships.  Nobody wants to choose the distant, depressed kid over anyone else as a best friend.

 It's okay that there isn't anything obviously wrong in your life right now.  It's okay that you don't have any tragic stories for your friends.  Believe it or not, that's actually considered a good thing!

Quit making others worry.

Quit beating yourself up every little thing.

Quit ruining your relationships!

You don't always have to be the center of attention, you know.

Much frustration, Coree

Tumblr Wannabe

Yes, you heard correctly.  I wish this blog were a tumblr.  Unfortunately certain parental units feel that tumblrs aren't appropriate (aka spawn of Satan) and so I am left to create a blog in order to express myself--even if real blogs are for old people.  Either way, I hope you will enjoy my posts.  They will probably be short, possibly only including a picture, or maybe one quote from my day.  Who knows--maybe inspiration will strike and I'll be writing entire novels for posts about saddling giraffes and ending world hunger and all of those other important things in life.

Also, just because a picture or quote or whatever is on here does not mean that I have any rights to it.  Chances are pictures taken by the bestie will show up, or that I'll just post things that I find amusing on my frequent escapades through the harsh wilderness of StumbleUpon.