So I'm not joining the Army. I know this doesn't come as a surprise to most of you, but the Army hasn't quite figured it out yet.
The recruiters call me every couple of weeks. If I'm lucky, I'm not at home when that happens, but every now and then I have to talk to one. A couple of days ago, I took a call from a recruiter. As soon as they identify themselves, I always reply "I'm not interested, thank you," and hope that it'll end there. This guy kept persisting, so I repeated my line, and hung up the phone.
Thirty seconds later, the phone rings again. It's the guy calling back. "Don't answer that" I yell to my family, and forget that anything happened.
But today my mom called me into the living room because there was a message for me on the voicemail. It was the guy. "I don't appreciate being hung up on," he said. "And I'm required by Congress to... to get into contact with all the Seniors at your high school." He went on to explain that I needed to call him back immediately, and if I didn't, he would keep calling, would "show up on [my] doorstep, or hunt [me] down at school."
Now, I ask you, is that a littttttle bit creepy? He'll hunt me down at school? I feel kind of threatened by a man with a lot of artillery training telling me he's going to hunt me down.

I'm becoming angsty, I can tell the emo kids at welding class rubbed off on me. I'm refering, of course, to my last post. I have nothing new to post, but I feel the need to move the angsty post down the page, and out of my sight.

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalaalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala.


Ok, that singing should have covered some of it up. I sing when I become acutely embarassed, as I am by the post. That or I apologize a lot. I don't have anyone to apologize to, except the world for subjecting them to that. *Ahem.* So--- lalalalala.

I almost have a job. It's at a gallery in downtown mpls. But it doesn't exactly count cause it's for less than a week, and I don't think I'm going to get paid. I think I'm also interning at my dad's office. And I'm trying to find the get-up-and-go to write to all my friends at camp, who are probably sitting around being sad that I never write (lol, yeah right. They're probably sailing right now. I want to be sailing), and to find a better picture for all my profiles. Alex was commenting on the one I have yesterday, which reminded me about the issue. I swear to god, if I had that personal photographer this would not be an issue.

Well, for not having anything to say I certainly have managed to blather on a bit. Good enough to cover up that post.

Can cosmetics cause emotions?
That would be the title of my master's thesis if I was to major in psychology. Obviously, it would focus on self-image and etc., because that's why most people use makeup. But I'd also use it to surreptitiously discover if other people have the same issue with mascara that I have.
You see, I like mascara because it makes me look like less of a pale freak. With blonde eyebrows and eyelashes, I think I look rather odd. So when I get motivated, (for special events, theatre performances, or just 'looking good'), I'll occasionally put it on. But every single time I do, I cry. This was been proven time and time again. I go into the day thinking, I feel good today, looking good will help me feel even better, today will be the day that I break the crying curse. But it never works.
I first noticed this when I discovered that I can never keep mascara from smudging. Then I began to think back on the days I wore it, and realize that the smudging comes, in fact, from crying.
It's a chicken and egg type question. Do I cry because I have mascara on? Or do I put on mascara because I subconciously know I'm going to cry?

Today I put on mascara.

I'm learning how to weld. This may not seem in line with my typical activities, but I'm doing it anyway. It's fun, in a living-on-the-edge sort of way. Between hot things, bright things, things that burn your eyes, things that burn your skin, sharp things, and rotating sharp things, it's rather dangerous. But I'll have you know that after three days, I've only bruised my finger.

I've also been going swimming. There's a pool near my house that has lap swim hours during the day, and my mom and I have been going every couple of days. It's a great way to cool off after being in a welding shop for four hours, and I love swimming anyway. But there's this boy who's always there. My mother thinks he's a lifeguard, but I think he's just some kid with a red swim suit. He just stands around in the water and looks cool. Or stands out of the water and looks cool. Or trys to. He's very attractive and muscular, but it gets sort of distracting when he gets out of the pool and stretches at the end of my lane. So, strange boy who I do not know, please find another lap swimmer to bother.

Since I am a balanced person (hah) I'm going to write a balanced post. My dad always prefaces things with "you want the good news or the bad news first?" I don't have one I always pick, it depends on how I'm feeling. But today is definitely a bad-things-first type of day. So, without further ado,

The Bad
(1) So I don't get jealous very often (again, hah), but when I do I get reallllly jealous. Of everything. And everyone. And now would be one of those times when I am jealous. It sort of started with a conversation with Tyler on IM. We were discussing "divine beauty" vs. "hot beauty," or pretty girls versus hot ones. According to Tyler, I'm not allowed to be jealous of hot girls because they're usually not smart. But I'm allowed to be jealous of pretty girls, because they can be smart. Um. Thanks Tyler. ::waves::
(2) I hate looking younger than I am. I know I've whined about this here before, but it keeps popping up. I get asked EVERYWHERE if I'm over 12. 12! I'm 17! That's five years of difference. I may be short and have no boobs, but couldn't I just LOOK old? It's almost enough to make me start dressing like a slut, as Chinh suggested last time this issue came up. Except I might end up looking like a slutty freshman. On second thought, freshman is an improvement on 12. People think my sister is older than me. She's going to be 14 at the end of this month. Let me shoot someone. God.
(3) I was going to get my licence on Monday, but then the state government decided to shut down. So now I can't. And I am still reliant on my parents to get anywhere. And my mom has a real estate class every day from 8-5. So I am stranded at home.
(4) Also, all negativity in the universe comes from The Internet, and specifically (dun dun duhhh) Internet Porn. Want more of the story? I'll tell it to anyone who asks. Note: this may or may not be my way of seeing if anyone actually reads my blog, but believe me the porn story is funny. Really sad, but funny at the same time.

The Good
This section is to balance the first one.
(1) Luckily, even when I'm overcome with jealousy, I can be excruciatingly happy at the same time. I've been dancing in my bedroom and having actual conversations with my sister. (You, way in the back, what did you say? You thought I was jealous of my sister? Well, I am, but right now I'm not really feeling it)
(2) I also bought myself a pile of brand new books today. Mmmm, I love the smell of new books. Since everyone is dying to know what I bought, I guess I'll give in and tell you: The Time Traveller's Wife, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, and Alice on her Way. With the exception of the Alice book (an addiction since I was in 5th grade, it's embarrassing) they're all Good Books. I'm really excited to read them. I actually already read the Alice one, halfway at the store, halfway here. And guess what? She's a UU. I've read 16 of these books, and it only comes up now that she's UU.
(3) Also, I'm done with therapy forEVER. That's right, Amelia is officially Not Depressed. How cool is that? I'm still paranoid and have a guilt complex, but I'm not depressed. ::dances::
(4) I rode the bus to Andy's house yesterday, and it was A Grand Adventure. I had to ride 3 buses, a woman with very few teeth told me where to go, and two bus drivers yelled at me (though only one was angry). I also got to ride for $1, I don't know why. The guy asked me if I was under 12 (see above) and I was like "noooo" and he let me on for under the child price. What is that? Hopefully it's a good thing. Anyway, it was fun riding the bus, and now I totally don't have to rely on my parents. I just have to put two hours of time and stress. Lol.
(5) And! I get to go to the hick carnival! It's near Alex's cabin and I am soooo excited. I went once before, we played count the mullet and we ogled carnies. Hehe.
(6) I don't know why, but I really like capitalizing things that are not proper nouns. As in "Not Depressed" or "A Grand Adventure." It's fun.

I really must be done with depression, because there are more good things than bad. And I totally did not plan that.

So my boyfriend came back from Germany. I'm really proud of him. I thought I'd lost him to a country full of wurst.
I've decided that he is never allowed more than 20 miles from me for more than 2 days. I'm planning on implanting a tracking device in his neck to help me facilitate this, but shhh don't tell him. Which is my way of saying that I missed him a lot when he was gone. As in, he left a message on my cellphone to say something about his flight, and I saved it just so I could listen to it and hear his voice. Since when am I that dependent?
Obviously, I was at the airport when he came back. At first I didn't want to go, because it involved a lot of me letting myself into his empty house and waiting for his mother and then interacting with her for a couple of hours before we drove to the airport. But I decided that it was worth it. That and Chinh came with me, which made the entire ordeal MUCH less awkward and MUCH more fun.
We worked on catching up on our hug quota at the airport until Andy's mom decided she doesn't like PDAs. That was sad. Luckily, his house isn't "public," so affection is allowed there. Um.. yeah, try to ignore that last sentence.
Since I live in Coon Bi and my parents responded to my "can I stay at his house?" query with laughter and a "no way," I had to leave around 10-something last night.
So I spent all day today trying to get a ride to his house. And so far we have driven to the following places: the farmer's market (where I saw Elliot, which was odd because the market is near Coon Bi), the coop, my house, the hardware store, Home Depot, the garden plot, and my house again. None of these are Andy's house. I am distraught.
I think I've filled my angst requirement of the day, and I should go try to convince my parents they like driving to SLP.