Dear God IT'S ALIVE

*cue dramatic thunder and pipe-organ music*

Anywho, yes, I am alive despite not posting to this blog in a while. Sorry. Bad habits die hard. For the numerous people invested in my life- oh. Wait.

Sorry, that's supposed to be sarcasm. But people are, supposedly, reading this blog now? Why, I've no clue, but their presence is not unacknowledged or unappreciated. Shout out to the lovely ladies Kristen and Miranda for enduring my teenage ennui and far-too-purple prose! Everyone who reads this blog deserves a ton of ice cream for their troubles. Though Ms. Claire may get 2 cartons because I think she puts up with the majority of my teenage idiocy. (Thanks Claire c :)

Ben & Jerry's for everyone!! Or whatever your preferred ice cream brand is < 3

But update! Things are better here at Casa de Alice. My mother has come to the realization that I'm not socially stunted, my aunt is off on a weekend getaway and my sister is as adorable as ever. And, apparently, not going to college. Or at least not yet.

My mother and I had one of our Talks tonight. The Talks aren't like the "Birds and the Bees Talk" insomuch as they're really awesome, impromptu discussions that just sort of happen and end up leaving me feeling happy and optimistic. You can see some of the aftereffects of another such Talk here and here. But we talked about the divorce and how awesome today was (the whole family [save for my aunt] watched the 70's movie of The Great Gatsby, with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow in it. We took a shot of sparkling grape juice every time we heard "Old sport") and a lot of other things.

John Green, Pasta, and Crumbling Pedestals

The problem with John Green is that, while I regard him as one of the greatest men of my time, he never fails in making my mind swim with philosophy and human nature and mirrors and windows and gigantic white cows.

So that means, to be blunt, that I end up writing another silly thing about love and humanity and so on and so forth.

Sleeping Beauty Clobbering her "Prince"

I give up.

I do. I give up.

I give up on daydreams and Prince Charmings and happily-ever-afters. I've always kind of berated myself for considering those ideals anyway, but never enough to stop my subconscious from dreaming of "The One". I could hate myself for it, but I could never really stop fantasizing- don't all girls? We want something perfect, something solid in our chaotic worlds of hormones and emotions and uncertainty. We want something we can never get, and it only ever ends in decent guys trying their bests, and failing spectacularly.

But there aren't even enough decent guys! Just boatloads of assholes, douchebags, womanizers, etc. etc. They never even try to fit that ideal, and for good reason: Women want unattainable perfection, in the same way, I suppose, that men do. They all want their respective perfect fantasy women- typically reminiscent of Victoria's Secret "Angels". But hey, to each their own and all that.

Screw Cupid

I woke up this morning, snuck up and pounced on my sister, (just to see if I could scare her; she usually catches me before I have the chance) and then I went to the bathroom.

And promptly got a nosebleed.

I can't even remember the last time I got a nosebleed, but I have a foggy recollection that makes me believe it was in my dad's truck, because I remember thinking, "I can't get blood on the grey upholstery".

Anyway, nosebleeds are interesting sensations. You can feel the blood trickle it's way through your nostril, and it's different then just having a runny nose, because blood is much more watery then mucus.

Wow. I really make intriguing blog posts, don't I?

Juliet Wins out the War

My sister's boyfriend just left our house for the last time.

Somehow this entire situation, the last few days and this morning, felt akin to a war movie of sorts. Surprise attacks from the "enemy side", "peace treaties" offered and refused. Then the "general" calling the "enemy" before the "battle", because apparently their husband has a confrontation issue. Gotta give it up for projection.

Anywho, I've been on the sidelines this whole time. An uninvolved bystander, to this cheesy remake of Romeo & Juliet. And it's confusing, to say the least. But I do know that he just left for the last time, that all those afternoons and movie nights out with my sister and him have ended, are never coming back. He was an extraordinarily nice guy; smart, but not egotistical about it. Didn't mind my "tagging along". He was a great guy, and I was happy for my sister. But I will never really be able to comprehend the pattern of... love, so to speak? I guess thats why I'm still just a bratty little, "teenage" girl. Does it ever get easier? Do the plots ever clearly reveal themselves? Will I ever shut up?

Probably not.

But I have concluded that I am an egotistical hypocrite. I'm also a pyromaniac author, apparently, so lets just say I am one huge mass of contradictions and try to return to the topic beforehand.

I can't help but wonder how things are going to be, from now on. What will my sister's next boyfriend be like? What will her ex-boyfriend's next girlfriend be like? How long will it be before my sister gives me a genuine smile? A blissful laugh? What's going to trigger the influx of memories in a few days? Weeks? Months?

Why do I write about romance, when faced with situations like these, I swear never to involve myself with love?
Hence the hypocritical mass of contradictions.

But when I hugged him goodbye and whispered "I'm sorry", his eyes were red.

My Forced Distance from What I Call Society

Oh, but am I a hypocrite.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I'm so hypocritical, I occasionally contemplate introducing myself as "Hello, I'm a hypocrite."

Truly.

That bad.

So it's not entirely surprising that I tend to bemoan my lack of close acquaintances, when I distance myself from a good number of people. It's not as if I hate all people, or just hate social interaction. Nope, nothing like that. It's just. . . Well, I'm not sure what it is, or really how to explain it, I'll be honest here. I'm just fickle and contrary and extremely hormonal. And sometimes I really just wish that life were novel, or that I could fall into printed words.

Romance vs. Companionship

"It kinda pokes fun at being romantic for the sake of avoiding being lonely."
~Adam Young, talking about "Deer in the Headlights"

When I watched the above video, and heard that part, I froze for a second.

There's a line I have on a profile somewhere, "I am a hopeless romantic with a cynical outlook on love, but at night I fall asleep to dreams of charming smiles and twirling on star-lit beaches." I am constantly daydreaming of romantic situations and dashing, modern-day Prince Charmings.

Is the only reason I do so. . . beacuse I'm simply lonely?
It makes a lot of sense.

Honesty isn't always the BEST Policy...

I'll be frank ladies and gentleman, when I say that when it comes to snappy retorts, I'm not exactly your go-to-girl. Sure, I can come up with some mildly insulting, counter line but I only make up said line around an hour later, when I'm mentally reviewing the situation.

(I also owe the reader a bit more of an explanation then my last post. I'm too lazy to do some "About Me" thing, so most likely I'll make a page for that later.)