The World as I Know it

Have you ever woken up at 8 in the morning and known something was wrong with you? Have you ever woken up at 8 in the morning and continued to have that feeling up til the present time? Now complicate your absolute wretchedness of being indescribably ill and add watching your little sister (because your parents won't get up with her) who is also sick and your cranky father who doesn't want to listen to Kat or get up. Now, imagine that your little sister has finally fallen back asleep at 11 in the morning, after watching 2 movies. Relief, right? Yeah, for a couple hours you are able to fall back into your bed and blankly--albeit, melodramatically--think that these are your last moments on Earth and you are thinking mean thoughts about your parents until finally you drift into a very choppy sleep. Then someone comes to your driveway at 1:30 and your two dogs start barking, because that's what dogs do, and your parents finally wake up because your little sister is calling for you. Now, not only are the dogs barking, your little sister crying for her mama now (who won't listen to her) but you also have your mother yelling that you're not awake yet, even though you were awake approximately five and a half hours before her, taking care of her daughter. When you answer that you are awake, she goes on to nag you about putting away your clothes before you can pronounce how awful you feel, hoping to receive a little mercy. But no, in your house, when you are ill, it is not like on television, where mothers will sit next to their sick child on her bed and give her chicken-noodle soup while stroking her hair. God forbid that should ever happen!! No, instead your mother nags you about your chores so loudly that she cannot hear your moans that you are being besieged by the devil himself and if you move you will be sick. But finally, for some reason or other, with one last departing "come watch the dogs (like they're going to have some raging party or something for the doberman next door) and take care of your clothes, you are in peace. For a little bit. Like two seconds. The phone rings, so you make the mistake of rushing to go get it, feeling nauseous by the second, and right when you get to the phone, they hang up. You realize it's your aunt, who will in all probability continue to call until someone answers, so you stay in the living room, wishing for the life of you that you had your comforting blankie and teddy. But no, she calls back and you tell her without opening your mouth too wide that your mother is not here, you don't know where she is, you don't know when she'll get back, and you don't know if they took the cell phone. You hang up and watch a little tv before your parents and sister come back. Kat says that they have a blueberry muffin for you. You haven't aten all day, it doesn't sound particularly appetizing, but it is a nice action. However, your mother informs her that in fact, there is nothing for me because she ate it, most likely after decimating her own. This brings a little bitterness on but nothing is said. Your parents go outside for whatever reason and you sit there in the quiet, thinking about how thirsty you are and realizing that you're probably dehydrated. Your mother calls for you to come outside and, as a show of daughterly affection, you stand on the porch, or rather sitting on the porch, and asks her what she wants. She says to go over there, and as you walk out "over there," you realize that there is a mound of dirt surrounded by 2x4s. You are looking at your mother's most recent attempt to create a garden and the bane of your existence since you are the one who mows the lawn. You mutter this to yourself but quietly come and lay heavily down on the grass, vaguely thinking about the snake that you saw near the same position the day before and wondering how many snails you just crushed by laying down. Your mother tells you to go and put seeds into her garden by which you reply with an absolute no. Your daddy comes to your rescue and tells her to plant her own garden, even though he and your little sister are helping her. You sit there quietly, not wanting to move in any way. Your mother asks you what's wrong like you haven't been repeating the now bittered sentiment of "I'm sick" for the last 6 hours but you still utter those two words, with a hint of the neglect you've been feeling all day with the last words of "thanks for noticing." Your mother decides that, even though you have been sick for a quarter of the day and continue on with your own little marathon from hell, that it is simply something you ate. Now remember, please, that you ate an egg and a waffle for dinner last night and that was basically it. Please also remember that you haven't eaten anything today, at all. Imagine that your mother, upon receiving this little tid-bit, asks your father, not to look at you and see if he can understand what's wrong with you, but if they might have started the garden too late. Not wanting to hear any more of the stupid freaking garden, you wander back inside and are quickly forced to move so your mother can have "her" chair and then again because you know that your father will want "his." You go back into your room after more volleys of taking care of your clothes and lay down on your bed until your other sister comes home. You finally assent to taking care of your clothes, because you are, of late, feeling a little better, however you are not feeling good by any definition of the phrase. You have just had the June 11, 2009 Heather Experience. Thanks for playing.

I despise that I'm so far away. I despise that I'm such an emo-little person that I feel neglected when people don't talk to me. I despise that I kind of need constant attention. I despise that I'm not enough for me. I despise that

I can't finish this. It's too depressing even for me.

That's my color. Today I decided that the days of Casperina were going to come to an end. I decided that I was not going to white for at least three months, that I was going to be gorgeously golden. But instead of looking like a yummy loaf of bread that is tan and delicious, I look like strawberry cotton candy. I skipped over the hollywood starlette look and went straight to pink. Go me! >.< normal tan lines are okay). No. I was wearing a wife beater and shorts. I had a bra (of course) underneath the beater so I have extremely weird tan lines cuz i pulled up my shorts a little and my shirt a little and laid just over a hill where people couldn't see me. So my lines aren't even in the right places. And I'm pink--on one side.

So i've decided that from now on, white is fine. White is good. My body rejects all colors except white and pink. And that does NOT look good. So Casperina is going to live on but ya know what, I'm okay with that. With any luck, I'll have amazing skin when I'm old and you all will look fourty years older than you actually are.

Speaking of age and looking it, when I was going to get applications the other day, people asked me what my age was, assuming that I was too young to work at those specific places. When I asked my dad if I looked too young, he said "you look like you're about fourteen." Fourteen!! In case people haven't noticed, I think I am more *ahem* developed than a fourteen year old. My short hair is supposed to make me look older. Grr! What can I do for you people to believe me when I say that I have lived 2 decades?? What?!? Please tell me and then I will gladly go and do it!! Suggestions are welcome!! (I'm serious, help me out here. I don't want to look like I just hit puberty. That is not generally considered the best age to be.)

all the love,
heather