Woo

Some small bit of good news today, which to some may not seem like good news at all, but to me it's like fuck yeah. I think I talked about the bald spot on the back of my head on here. In any case, my mom finally got me to the doctor's to see what it actually was, rather than just go with the internet's diagnosis. Turns out it was actually a fungal infection keeping my hair form growing. It'll start to grow again after washing my hair with an anti-fungal shampoo for two weeks to a month. Fuuuuck yessssssss.
Though that does mean I'll have a rather odd patch of short hair in the back of my head for a while. But who fukken cares really? I'll have hair~ wonderfully colourful hair full of happiness and not-fungus~

Sewing Machines

Finally I've made good on my promise to learn how to sew. I've set up my mum's old sewing machine in the dining room, and I've procured an old sheet to try and make bloomers out of. All good and well right? Almost... well, not really at all. I got my mom to help me thread the thing, because it's ridiculously complex and the manual was not too helpful. But, before I can get help with the actual sewing, she leaves with a farewell comment commending me on my initiative to learn this on my own. Of course, I struggle with the damn thing for the next hour or two, none of my practice strips come out right, no matter what I fidget with that the book says I can fidget with. Finally, fed up, I take one of the fabric scraps to my mother and ask her what the nutsack I am doing wrong. "Oh, you just didn't put the lever down!"  nifty, conspicuous lever was sure enough there, to silently mock me. So after so much frustration, I suppose I'm off to a sort of start now. Though I need to still cut out the rest of my pieces for the bloomers, figure out how the zig zag stitch works (possibly, I could use draw strings instead of elastic) and actually yanno... do well at sewing this thing together. Easy as pie. Sure thing. Oh what I wouldn't give for a mother from the 50's.
But, aside from my own silly sewing slip-ups, today was a rather good day. We once again were let out early for testing for the underclassmen, and since Scout had nothing to do, and neither did I, we went out to lunch. Though we had to wait around for about an hour for any of the shops to open at eleven. But we passed that time with ease and good conversation, which carried on through lunch and the drive home. Swapping stories and knowledge and admittedly some gossip.
Later in the day I met with my new therapist. I'm not sure if I'll like her or not, she may be just a pinch too into the "hollistic treatment" scene for my tastes. She spent a portion of time talking about her surveillance of sun spots and how she believed they affected human emotions and the like. All I could think of was Static Shock, pretty much the entire time. But hey, other than that she seemed like a nice lady, and there are some tasty restaurants around her office, so that's a plus. I ate again after the meeting, despite having had lunch with Scout only a few hours ago, because apparently I fucking love eating.
In any case, I have some sort of practice ACT or something tomorrow, and while I have a late start, I don't particularly want to stay up very late. So I bid you all goodnight.

Strange Dream

Last night, as I slept beside Brent, exhausted from the wonderful night we had just had, I dreamed of someone... I imagined I'd never really think about again. Last night, I had a dream about Nic.
I was in an enormous and lavish home, as the guest of the man and woman living there. I believe I was there because of boarding school, or at least some sort of academy which I explored later on. The woman of the house was very excited for me to be there, and she showered me with presents, on of which was an extravagant emerald gown that arrived along with other items, in a hot-tub sized box. The box was opened by her with excitement right in front of the door, but I never took the dress out, despite passing it several times, and wanting to in the course of the dream. I felt too guilty, the dress was something of a bribe. The fabulously rich man and woman were not the only ones living in the house, there too was their child, Nic. The mother very much wanted Nic and I to be together, and so did I, but Nic kept his distance, like I had broken his heart and all that was left was sorrow and bitterness. I spent many days in that house, mostly going up and down stairs running into Nic at awkward moments and leaving for brief periods of time for the school's parking garage. Then, While I was in a sort of unfinished basement, full of support beams and concrete and steam, Nic came down the stairs, he had just taken a shower. He had a towel and was dressed only in shorts and... he had the chest of a man, even in the dream I was shocked, though I recalled his breasts to be much smaller than they actually where. And he simply stood there, regarding me with both longing and apprehension. In that moment, I wanted him so much, I missed him, with so much of my heart.
From there, Scout and I went on a rather strange adventure. A young girl, attending the school, just got into my car with Scout and I. She was young and either Asian or some sort of mix of ethnicities. She was all smiles, and wanted for us to get her home. Which was past whatever destination scout and I had. (I think it may have been the concert venue that I had just been at earlier in the evening) I remember taking her back to the house I was staying in for a time, and picking her up again from the school. For a time it seemed like we were driving her home. Then scout and I were walking from the parking garage into an old library with lovely carve wood shelves and an old dog. We were looking for the girl and talking about something in history. And then, I'm not sure what happened. I suppose I woke up. Deeply unsettled and rather grumpy, sore, and tired.
I'm not quite sure what to think of it all. Part of me feels it was a resolution, the other feels like it was a yearning for the past.

In any case, the evening before I had this dream, was incredibly fun (though getting there was less so) I went to a Gogol Bordello concert with Scout, Brent, and Darian. Once I loosened up, and figured out to steady myself with guard rail while I jumped/headbanged, I had the most amazing time. Gogol Bordello had the most amazing stage presence, they all jumped around and interacted and Eugene lost more and more clothing as the show progressed, which I was fine with. To hear music that I'd listened to repeatedly for days on end preformed live, with some of the people I'd listened to it with, was such an intense and glorious experience. Scout got me out my shell and thrashing around and not giving a fuck. And we have another show we're going to at the end of the month, which I hope to be just as amazing. I even drove there myself. Which really was one of the more amazing accomplishments.
Getting the tickets however, and finalizing transportation, was a bit of a nightmare. Brent and I got in a huge argument, because for a while it seemed as though he wouldn't be able to go. And he was just... so very mad about it. He was bitter to me, telling me that he was probably going to bother me about it the day after the concert, and that he didn't see why he couldn't just drive my car there. This was after I had exhausted every resource I had trying to get him to that concert. He wouldn't shut up about being angry and jealous and how he was sorry in advance for being an ass about not getting to go. I was just... so immensely mad at him. I ended up exploding later that night. Though it was more over how much time my mom spends with Dave as opposed to me. She blamed my "bad moods" which didn't really make me feel any better. At all. I just want to go to dinner with them from time to time, but apparently I'd been to much of a bitch, but now I wasn't since they got back from their ten day vacation to hawaii. About the third one.
In any case, I got things sorted out so Brent could go, and he apologized vigorously for being well... a huge dick. But then, the day of the concert, he goes to purchase "things" and comes to meet me in GSA completely fucking high. I couldn't believe it. I tried to hide my disappointment, but it didn't work to well. I then spent the time I needed to spend of getting help for a math test tomorrow, trying to keep him calmed down so he could be chill enough to possibly help me navigate. I've come to terms with people smoking, but I never dreamed that he would smoke before we were going to hang out. Before we were going to go to a concert, when he was already on thin ice. I guess it's a faux pas to refuse toking up with your dealer, which is what I gleaned to be the reason from his mutterings.
We finally get to the venue, with little mishap, things are going well. We get to the door and the lady asks for our I.D.s I pull mine out and look over to Brent. He's forgotten it. He left his wallet back on my kitchen table because for some reason he couldn't handle me touching it and took it off. The lady said we couldn't get in without one. I had to keep from slapping him, not because he'd forgotten it, but because he wouldn't quit whining about how he'd ruined the night. I understood that there was the possibility of things going to shit from there, but if there is one thing I can't stand, it's a goddamned pessimist when there's still a chance for things to go right. I just wanted for him to shut up and be mildly concerned. Because we got in fine.
I just was so upset with him so often this week. First he lost his temper at me, despite my best efforts to get him what he wanted (I bought him his ticket) Then he goes and gets high before we're going to hang out and completely derails my attempts to do homework. He then lost his ID and wouldn't quit moping about it and was pissy until the concert started because he was likely still buzzed from earlier. I guess it's no wonder I dreamed of a past person who my memory has made idyllic, because my subconscious was more than likely a little bit fed up.

From Worse to Much Worse

I'm not the type of individual who can thrive under stress. I'm really not even the type of individual who can cope with stress. In fact, I'm the girl who crumples under a teaspoon of the stuff. Right now? I think I'm dealing with more than a teaspoon.
As of right now, my grades are shit. They were never that good to begin with, but despite my attempts to be more diligent, and turning in work that I've missed and trying my best (which admittedly could be better) they still remain wallowing in the tar-pits of below C average. Because the second my homework seems to be too much, I quit. No questions asked. I can't handle even thinking about it, lest I burst into tears about my impending failure. It's not so much that I don't care about my grades, it's more that if I acknowledge that I care, I'm sure I'd have to find my self a pleasant psyche ward to spend a few months in. And my mother seems determined to help me find one, with her constantly rubbing them in my face. I'm terrified of my future. I feel as though my life is a ship sinking faster than the you can say 'failure' and all I can see is fryer grease closing over my head, swallowing up any sweet vision of success I ever had.
To add to the pile, I have a vanity problem as well. I have a bald spot. It's doubled in size since I found it on Wednesday. And it means that colouring my hair is a huge no-no unless I want to go balder than baby's ass. Having coloured hair was my one sure claim to alt-hood. With that gone? I'm just another washed up goth kid who gave up of their style. I never got to do white hair, or red hair, or peach and purple hair, or green hair again. I never got to achieve my rainbow. And I don't know if I ever will. This fact makes me want to cry. I want to cry so hard I can't talk for the rest of the day. I love my colourful hair. But I can't get it unless I bleach my head, and if I do that... there won't be anything left to dye. It makes me so mad that I have to stop, but these horrible bleach blonde things have never once had to reconsider their onslaught of blondness.
But I need to get going, or I'll be late to school. I hope everyone has a better day than I feel I might have.