Prom and Plans

[tabular_rasa]

Happy 1-Year Anniversary, Oh Devoted Livejournal!

The first entry is like deja vu all over again, lol . . . It rained on prom night, again, this year . . . and I feel depressed again.

Well, I guess I'm a little better off than I was last year, seeing as how I WENT to prom. Actually, it was quite fun, though there was some awkwardness at times.

I got my hair done and got dressed, and borrowed some of Mom's makeup, because I honest-to-God don't own any, and then went over to Kristina's. Nichole showed up at the same time I did, which was cool, and "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was playing on the radio, which is my song, because it was popular the week I was born (as was "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight"-- also which I love, lol . . . ). Nichole's mother took a bunch of pictures of us, and I did the "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" dance with my umbrella, which I brought in case it started raining (good idea, huh?). I felt like someone from the 1950s, with my shoes and my black dress with the pink ribbons. Then I had puffy, curly updo'ed hair with little white flowers in it, and that just reminded me of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Aaron showed up, and we took off and took pictures with Gabri and her date at Gabri's parents' deli, which is by Wal-Mart and we'd all seen but never knew was her parents' place.

Then it was on to Olive Garden, where we met Amanda and her boyfriend Eric (and, I swear, the two of them together look like Lily Potter and Sirius Black going out . . . it's just sort of scary, in a way . . . ), and Nicki. I didn't eat very much, but brought the rest home in a box, which spilled on my dress! Yet I am so smooth, I wiped it off and you can't even tell!

We then went to Toys R Us to take pictures with stuffed animals like Amanda and Nichole and Kristina did last year. However, this bitchy lady comes up to us and goes, "Hey, you can't take pictures in the store!" So we're a little saddened, but we go to put the camera away-- but then this OTHER bitchy lady, who, honestly, was only a few feet away from us when the other lady attacked us, and would have seen, comes up and goes, "You can't take pictures in the store." We're like, "Yeah, we know; that other lady just told us." So she goes, "Well, I was just radioed that you weren't putting them away." So I was like *edgy bitchy voice right back.* "We WERE putting them away; we were just speculating amongst ourselves WHY," which was true: We had been wondering, all of us (anti-pornography security? anti-shoplifting?). Only instead of explaining nicely, Miss Bitch Who Doesn't Trust Teenagers was like, "You have to do something with the cameras. You can't carry them in the store." So we just left. Nichole and I were like, "We shall take our business ELSEWHERE!!!"

In the parking lot, venting, we came up with what-we-would-have-saids. My favorite was, "Fine! We WERE trying to find a safe alternative to getting drunk and having an orgy in your parking lot, but I see now you give us no other choice! Come on, guys; let's go f*ck!"

So then we got to prom. It was very nicely decorating, especially considering that it was decorated by the Juniors themselves. Then prom was just . . . prom. I mean, what do you expect? Lol . . . though I really do feel sorry for those who view that as the best night of their lives. Greg was Prom King, and Caitlyn was crowned Queen, but she was in the bathroom when they called her out. Go figure.

I talked to people, mostly those whom I came with, and Alice and Robert and Liz. I danced a little, too, though I'm so self-conscious and don't do anything with my arms. At times I felt a little awkward, like during slow dances, when everyone seemed to have a partner. Intimacy is nice, but I never seem to be in on it. On one level, it makes me jealous. On the other, I detest teenage romantic intimacy, because it's so selfish, if you think about it. Romeo and Juliet were actually quite selfish little twits. Forgivably so . . . but so.

Nobody wanted to polka with me. I wonder why. Lol . . .

We actually stayed until the end, too. The drive back was scary; it was so foggy. I'm glad we got home safe.

So now it's just all boringness, the day after. I went to YHO, tired as heck, my hair all frizzy from washing it out intensely of all those crazy hair products that were in it to get it to stay like that.

I don't know what the heck is going on with tonight. Tiffany at one point invited me to come to dinner with her before her prom, tonight. At least I think she did, unless she was joking and I didn't get it-- though she did bring it up more than once. Yet eating dinner with her would require me to know when and how to get there, neither of which she has told me. I tried hinting about it on Friday but nothing came of it. Maybe she never meant to ask me, or maybe she just forgot, which seems to be a pattern lately, one of which I am still quite bitter, though the repercussions from the first instance turned out favorably and I'm glad.

I can't call and ask her, of course, because that'd be rude of me, and if it turns out she wasn't planning on having me, I'd make her feel awkward, and I don't like doing that to people.

At any rate, I feel sick anyway, so maybe it's better that way. Still, my mom keeps asking me what I'm doing tonight and I keep telling her I'm sick and "I don't want to go anywhere" so I don't have to let her know I'm the victim of a ditching, forgotten set of plans, or gullibility. It's just easier to blame it on the circumstances than someone. Circumstances don't get hurt.

Maybe she'll just read this and make it easier for me. Though she won't, at least not in time to do anything about it either way, really.

I still think teenagers in love are rather selfish. I am having a very Andy moment. Maybe I wrote this. Hell, I don't even know anymore. Everything else represents everyone else and nothing make sense and the parallels are all wrong-- or maybe they're right, and they're just weird and I never could have predicted them. I don't know.

I have decided May 14th is not a good day.

On a lighter note, however: They're multiplying! Remember the girl who asked in my World History class, "Is Scandinavians a religion?" I figured someone would have the sense to stop her from procreating, but apparently not. I heard her lament as she got off the dance floor, her belly a little rounder than it had been in November, "I better stop dancing, or my baby'll come out with Shaken Baby Syndrome!" I think I'd be more scared her baby's going to think it can convert to Scandinavianism.