Pain....

Ugh. I'm in so much pain....

My stupid body is...well...stupid.
I have this problem where this bacteria or something causes pimple-like things to pop up all over my body, and they get infected, and they hurt.
It sounds gross. It is gross. But most of all...it hurts like a motherflipper!
To make it worse, I have a cut that hurts. It got infected. And it's nasty.
Not gonna say more...

Ah. I've decided that girls are really annoying.
This one girl, in concert choir today, was completely obnoxious. I said something like, "Hey, I think we should work more on learning on the notes than the rhythm, and the rhythm's not quite right, either..."
And she said, "Well, why don't you teach it?"
It was bitchy. Trust me. And she gave me that obnoxiously sweet smile that was just so fake and annoying.
Then her and her little friend--who I don't really like either--were being immature and so damn annoying.

The problem? She's friends with my best friend.
She's supposedly friends with me, but I don't like her.

Ugh.

I hate people.

--Ivers

Boys

I actually don't know what to title this post aha. I kind of just need a venting sesh here.

I'm a major tomboy. Now, I hate referring to myself that way (no particular reason) but it's true. I talk like a guy, I act like a guy...I am one of the guys. That's what I am. "One of the Guys." I'm a boy. A dude. A bro. And don't get me wrong, I love my guy friends and I love who I am. I have fun and I love joking around (a lot).

But...I kind of wish I were still a girl.

See, my guy friends don't really see me as a girl...I'm a dude. They treat me like a dude. I've noticed a difference in how they treat me and how they treat other girls. With me, they poke fun of me all the time, tease me, call me names, push me, shove me...NO IT'S NOT BULLYING (my school is completely whack with all the crazy ass extreme bullying BS they have, but that's only my opinion). It's friendly teasing. They're "mean," you could say.

Then they see a girl and they're all sweet, giving hugs and smiles and telling them how, no, they aren't ugly, yes, that shirt is nice, and yeah, her hair is perfect.

This is literally what it's like:

BOY (to me): "You're fat."
ME: "Gee. Thanks. You're severely underweight and have no muscle whatsoever."
BOY (to another girl): "Don't call yourself fat! You're anything but!"

=_=

And the one, amazing, glorious time my friend recognized me as a girl...well...
ME: "I could kick your ass any day of the week."
BOY #1: "Yeah, well...I can't hit a girl..."
BOY #2: "Come on...it's IVEY...."

Here are just a few other examples...

ME (to Boy #2): "Dude, BOY #1 is gay for you, obviously."
BOY #1: "No, I'm gay for YOU."

BOY: "Ivey, you only hang out with guys. That means you're either a slut or a lesbian. And you act like a guy, talk like a guy, walk like a guy...hell, you even eat like a guy. You aren't interested in guys either. You're obviously a lesbian."

Yes, my life is lovely.

BTW, I don't mean to offend anyone by these things. This is my life and if you don't like it, then leave. :P

Anyway...where was I?

Oh, yes.

So I'm a guy. Half-man. Boyish. Whatever you want to call it. My guy friends see me as One of the Guys. And that'd be all right...if I weren't me. Because it's not all right.
See, I have this horrible habit of crushing on my guy friends. I don't know if I'm confusing friendship attraction to romantic attraction, but...I'd say there are quite a few guys I may or may not harbor feelings for in a more-than-friends way. It's stupid and immature and annoying, but I can't help it. My hormones are at their peak right now, I guess...

I forget the entire reason as to why I started this post in the first place lololololololol.

Well anyways, I guess I'd just really like it if guys looked at me and said, "Oh, look. She's a girl," instead of, "Oh, look, it's Ivey. Let's go make fun of how stupid she is."
My older sister is super duper pretty. Guys like her. She's had quite a few boyfriends and guys are attracted to her.

Guys are attracted to me, too...just in a strictly-friendship way.

I've been friend-zoned.

Ouch.

Ah, well.
And life goes on.

Hope you've enjoyed yet another useless point from yours truly.
Over and out.

--Ivers

Crabs Suck

No, I do not mean literal crabs.

Today was another regatta. It was only Novice kids, but...dude, some of these novices are fucking crazy. Like, legit. I go to--and row with--the public high school I go to, and we're pretty decent for a public school. But these kids, they've been rowing since like September and they're ridiculous.

But that's not the point. The point is, crabs suck.

That's rowing slang for when an oar enters the water the wrong way and gets stuck. Usually it's for like a second, but today I caught like 4 mini ones in a row, then it was really bad...the oar was, like, parallel to the boat, and we had to stop the entire boat, and then start up again. What sucks is that:

a) We were doing O.K at first
b) If it had happened 10 meters before, we would've qualified to start all over again.
c) It's kinda my fault we lost.

That's pretty much what I looked like.

Sigh. We came in dead last, a full 30 seconds behind the 4th boat. lsdfkJ:Dlfkjs;lkfjas;dlkfj. It's so frustrating. My teammates were being really nice because they knew I was beating myself up for it, but honestly, it made it worse.

Gah. Crew.

Behind These Walls: Chapter Thirteen Sneak Peek

                The day I finally recovered was on Christmas.

                It kind of sucked, wasting the first five days of winter break. Jefferson High let out school later than others—on the nineteenth—and we started back up third of January, so it wasn’t as if I had an unlimited time of freedom before school began, along with the stress and work and lack of social life (not that I had one, anyway). So, while all normal kids out there in the world were celebrating because there were no classes, I was lying in bed.

                Well, at least I had plenty of time to finish Macbeth.

               Anyway, so Christmas finally rolled around. I was never a big fan for holidays—being a part of a typical Greek family, my many relatives were invited over to the house for a party. By many, I mean a lot. My mother was the youngest of six kids, and my father had three siblings. Each sibling of my parents were married and had anywhere from three to six kids. Throw in a few grandparents, a few great aunts and uncles, and some second cousins and cousins twice-removed as well, and that meant there were at least forty people coming over. That meant that my parents spent hours in preparation and needed Jake and me to help out as well. The guests would be over at dinner, so that meant that cooking started as early as ten. I hated working and my extended family was freaking loud, so holidays were never my thing, but as soon as my eyes popped open at precisely nine in the morning Christmas day, I was in a surprisingly good mood.

                “Calista! Are you awake now?” Jake’s voice called out to me. He poked his head through the doorway to check up on me, hair still stuck up at all different angles in a messy bed head. “Are you still sick?”

                “Nope!” I said, jumping right out of bed and stretching my aching limbs. My muscles felt tired and sore, as if they hadn’t moved in days (which they hadn’t), but I had a surprising amount of energy. “What’s up?”

                “Mom and Dad need you to run out to buy some stuff.” He held up a sheet of white paper, with several items scribbled on it. I grabbed it from him and scanned it. Plastic cups. Plastic spoons. Plastic forks. Napkins. Butter. Peppers... “That is, only if you’re feeling well enough to.”

                “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute. I just need to get ready, and then I’ll go shopping.”

                Jake nodded. “All right.” As soon as he left, I picked up my phone and turned it on, sending Melodie and Emilia the same messages—can you guys come tonight? I brushed my teeth and washed up, and changed out of my pajamas, throwing on a pair of warm leggings and oversized sweatshirt. With my hair tied into a messy bun, I couldn’t have been less bothered with trying to look nice. That would have to wait till later.

                Already, right as I stepped out of my bedroom, I could hear the clamoring of pots and pans banging into one another, as well as my mother calling out to my dad, “Honey! Where’s the oven mitt?”

                “Good morning,” I said, entering the kitchen. The thick smell of homemade cooking filled the air and made my mouth water.

                “Calista! I need you to—”

                “I know, go shopping. I’m on it.”

                Without another word, I left to hurry out to the car. The only store that was open Christmas day was a huge supermarket that was a quick drive. Just as I was getting in, my phone rang. It was a text from Melodie. Sorry, can’t make it. Hanging out with the family.

                Not long after, while I was scouring the aisles for a bag of white bread, did I receive another text, from a different person but saying basically the same thing. I’m so sorry, but I can’t come! Emilia wrote. My grandparents are coming.

                I sighed. I guess I’ll have to put up with my crazy Greek family alone...

                But it’s funny, because fate—I don’t know what else I’d call it, because I wasn’t quite sure if you’d call it luck—seemed to like to play at the most random times. Even at a stupid supermarket that didn’t have any white bread.

   “Calista? Is that you?”


=End of Preview=


Hmmm. Who do you think it is? Obviously it has to be one of the boys. Which one? :D
Which one should I make it?
Mwahahaha.