So... I am pretty much deteriorating. I don't have any desire to do much of anything. I am falling drastically behind when it comes to practicing, my story, Music in the Community, my bio homework, and even, I think, personal relationships. I eat more, spend more time on the computer, have a harder time communicating, and even drive worse. I have less fun. I am not quite depressed, but I can feel depression creeping up on me. I often have these pre-depression modes - where I just kind of feel all fogged up and lazy and I generally don't care. I've been telling myself that I don't need to feel guilty - that it is not expected of me to organize community service organizations or write novels, that it is okay to have a quiet personality, (aka, withdraw from human contact) and that every normal person puts off AP work until the last week of summer. But still, it feels like I should be much more productive for my own sake. Normal people don't sit around daydreaming and playing Civ Three for five hours at a time, do they? Do they? I'm never quite clear on what normal people do.
Anyway, I have been actually doing things here and there. Yesterday was Emma and Helen's sixteenth birthday party. That was pretty terrible. Well, I shouldn't say that. It was nice that I got to talk to them, and Molly and Cassandra. But the thing is... 1. Their whole family was there, and it was kind of awkward and boring, and 2. Their mother tried to orchestrate everything, and orchestrated it extremely slowly. "No, you cannot go inside. Sit in the shade if you're hot. The food will be ready in ten minutes. Just another ten minutes. Just a little longer, I'm still making the tabouli. Keep your bathing suit on until your little cousins get out of the pool, Emma. We should wait to open presents. We need to move chairs. I also need to talk to my sister for half an hour about the proper way in which to move the chairs. You cannot open presents until we move the chairs. We are going as fast as we can. You guys should sit in these chairs. You guys need to move back. Also, complete strangers are going to take pictures of you while you are talking. Then, when your parents all come to pick you up, I am going to talk to them for twenty minutes about our home renovations."
It seems like adults always talk about home renovations.
I don't know. Maybe the orchestration would have bothered me less if I could stand their mom anyway. But we definately could have eaten lunch before three thirty if everything did not have to be perfect.
What else... I went to a play with Molly at the Williams Center. It was slightly awkward anyway, because I was feeling antisocial and because of the diary thing, but everyone from her church was there, for some reason, and they all said hi to her and came over and talked to her, and it is wierd for me to think that Molly is so close to people who I have never even met and who, as a body, generally creep me out. The play was okay. I didn't understand a lot of it because it was about baseball. I didn't really know anyone in it beyond "that person is a drama kid."
Before that, I went with my mom and my aunt to visit my distant relatives in good old Middle-of-Nowhere Mountain Country. Remember how I said I come from a long line of racist blue-blood Yankees? Um... Yeah. This guy is the worst one who's still living, apparantly. He refused to come to my aunt's wedding because the best man was black. It's wierd - he seems like this really funny, sweet old man. He is, I guess. I guess you can be a bigot and still be a nice person in other aspects of your life. But I'll bet if I were my aunt, I wouldn't want to drive four hours to see him every summer. I didn't have much fun at the actual gathering, but the car rides were okay. We stopped at an honest-to-God carhop for supper, and I had the best hamburger I think I've ever had. I also found myself staring at a hot waitress. Then I came home and told my dad about the carhop and Middle-of-Nowhere Mountain Country, and he seemed to think everything I said was hillarious, which is always good.
Tomorrow, I am telling myself, I am actually going to do stuff. I will go into school with my dad and number textbooks and make some (much needed) money. I will call the lady I babysat for last year about actually babysitting her child. I will call the Y about helping out Music in the Community. I might even read some of the terrible, rambly novel I have to read for AP bio, or read some more about enzymes, or something. There are only three weeks until band camp.
Three weeks.
I have officially wasted most of my summer.
Now, back to Civ Three.
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