If I weren’t just somebody like me.

My need to study more for impending superhard math quizzes are affecting my ability to blog at length, but here’s a snippet of what’s going on in my head.

This still stands. A year ago yesterday, I discovered it while out with a new friend. It really makes me think how much different I was, and yet still the same.

My Chemistry teacher lectured us today about black holes and the probability of other dimensions and universes. That basically means that at this exact point in time (non-sequitur question — what really IS time?), far away from here, I could be blogging about a totally different life. And then, of course, you have to take into account the ideas (although unreal and impossible) of time-travel, and then thinking of situation that could be skewed by past events (think Back to the Future). What if my life had taken a slightly different course? What if I hadn’t met this person or that friend? What if something had changed, something that by chance occurred completely at random that in this different world didn’t happen (get it?)? Who would I be? Would I be me? What is me? What would be me?

I think this is the catchiest song I’ve heard in quite a while. I’m also addicted to this.

Exams are soon, and I’m on the edge of everything. I’m not quite sure how I allowed my grades to get into that range, but there they stay. It looks like I’ll need to have stellar performance on my quarter exams and actually take some of my semesters.

Everything around me is changing, and I don’t like it (more on this later). While I want summer to come, I don’t want school to stop. I thrive on routine, and I can’t stand all of this.

The hat.

List of my top three wants [NEEDS!] as composed at 9:14pm with excessive linkage.

1. To meet Jason Mraz. This man is a genius.

2. To have a complete day full of fun. I want friends to come over, and I want to swim in the pool, fingerpaint, watch silly movies, get sunburned, jump on my trampoline, make cookies, draw on the sidewalk, bounce on my trampoline, sing along to loud music playing on the porch, play basketball in my driveway, braid my hair, go on a bike ride to Bruster’s and back, nap together (not in a creepy way, just in a let’s-all-collapse-on-the-floor way) and take lots of pictures so I can remember it all. I want a day of total and complete freedom, one where I wake up at 8 am and keep running around and going until 8 pm, at which time I watch movies with the people I want and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

3. For television to be this good again.

[ 365 dayz. ]

Dear blog readers,

Happy one-year!
I’d write more, but this would turn into a rant.

Until sanity,
Julia.

[ Happy Mother’s Day! ]

(12 Oreos, no icing, found on the record player at about 9pm tonight. Jeremy’s the culprit.)

[ It’s a lose-lose situation. ]

My family is consistently losing things. Tonight was a perfect example.

4:05 – Jonathan (Brother One) returns from middle school. My mother warns, “You have until 5:30. At that point in time, we are leaving for your baseball game, which is at 7 in Oviedo.” Jonathan responds with a “Yep, whatever,” as he beelines for the pantry.

4:45 – My mom reiterates while Jono messes around on the computer. “Jono, not kidding, we’re leaving at 5:30 and you’d better be ready.” He mumbles a response, and continues to listen to rap.

5:10 – “TWENTY MINUTES UNTIL WE’RE LEAVING! Make sure you’re ready!” My brother replies, “God, Mom, just chill. I’ll be ready.”

5:20 – “TEN MINUTES, JONATHAN! ARE YOU GOING TO BE READY OR WHAT?!” Jono continues to ‘do homework’/IM his crush on the computer, not even bothering to respond.

5:27 – Jono extracts himself from the couch and begins to hunt for his uniform, the full version of which contains sliders, socks, belt, cleats, a jockstrap (called a ‘cup’ in our house), pants, shirt, and a hat. “Um, mom, have you seen my uniform?” he calls from the laundry room, unruffled. My mom responds by rolling her eyes and threatening, “You’d better be ready.”

5:28 – “Found it!”

5:28:30 – “MO-OM! HAVE YOU SEEN MY CUP?!” A hint of panic creeps into his voice.

5:29 – My mom calls for the general assembly. “Everyone look for Jono’s cup! Go!” I don’t move from my spot where I’m immersed in Gavin DeGraw/Facebook/Algebra homework. Jeremy (Brother Two) continues to play Wii. Jonathan scurries by a few time, dressed in underwear, socks, and nothing else.

5:30 – “Jono, it’s 5:30. Are you ready?!” This is now full-out hollering. He yells back, “NO, I CAN’T FIND MY CUP!” Desperate yet still not freaking out, he tears his room apart while simultaneously considering how much it would hurt to wear Jeremy’s.

5:30:04 – “FOUND IT!” He pulls everything on, grabs a Gatorade, and dashes out the door. Jeremy and I are unfazed. Mom’s waiting in the car. Jonathan is only slightly concerned.

Case in point.

Example number two of the night involves the other brother.

5:45 – I yell to him. “Jero, Oma’s coming to get you at 6:15. Be ready, okay?” The response is the sound of a Mario guy losing a life. “Sis-ssyyyyyyyyy!” Clearly, I have distracted him by reminding him that he has CubScouts tonight.

5:55 – “Jeremy, not kidding, you need to go get your class B on.” He reluctantly leaves the television, wanders into his room, and emerges wearing a PACK 529 shirt and one navy sock. I shrug.

6:05 – I come to check on him. He’s glued to the television screen. I stand in front of him (I put my hands on my hips in a classic older-sister-is-annoyed-gesture, in hopes that he’ll pick up on the body language. He doesn’t.) and ask him, “Do you plan on putting on shoes and socks?” He looks at me and replies with a straight face: “Yes. Now MOVE.” I exit.

6:14 – “Jero! Oma’s supposed to be here in one minute!” He turns the volume on the TV up.

6:15 – Oma pulls into the driveway. I yell, “JEREMY! OMA’S HERE, GO OUT!” He comes in, looking a bit dazed, as if his brain cells have evaporated from watching slapstick anime, with one navy sock on and another in his hand. No shoes. “Get ready!” I urge.

6:16 – He comes out of his room, his expression reading: I am missing something very important. He hurries by me to the garage, where I hear exasperated sounds. They mix with the constant honking coming from our driveway. It’s an almost musical effect.

6:17 – “SISSY!” comes from the garage, and I walk out. “My shoes are in mom’s car.” (The car, that is now in Oviedo with Jonathan and his jockstrap.) “Cool.” I reply.

6:18 – Mom is now on the phone. “Find him shoes!” We check everywhere. There are no normal shoes. I send him out to the van in flipflops.

6:18:30 – He returns. He’s not allowed to wear flipflops to Scouts. Drat. Foiled.

6:19 – He suggests wearing his cleats, penny loafers, and Jono’s shoes, in that order. They are shot down. By me.

6:20 – I venture into the jungle that is the 8-year-old’s room, and my gaze alights on a new pair of shoes sitting by a box of Legos. “Success!” I yell, and we rush out to the car, and tie them on.

We lose many important items, ranging from jockstraps to baseball bags to neckerchiefs to slides (we own at least half a dozen) to keys to debit cards to homework to backpacks to cellphones. But we usually find them.

What we don’t ever find, however, is our sanity.

That’s permanently missing.

[ Go on, and lose it all. ]

So, ‘Kung Fu Grip’ is officially out. My faith in Jonas Brothers fans has officially evaporated.

And by fans, I mean “tweenage girls who think the boys are hott but have no respect for them and their music and personalities”.

I know I’m a bit anal about the JB, but it just really upsets me that these are the kids who are getting to meet them, and go to all of their concerts, and such. If everything works out tonight, I’ll be at the Disney Channel Games for the performance, which, if it’s anything like last year’s, will be overrun with “fans” such as the aforementioned.

I think maybe the reason this affects me so much is because I don’t like change. It’s just a key part of my personality– I thrive on routine, and when something gets thrown into the mix that doesn’t fit, I can’t stand it. Not ot mention the giant shift as time progresses. The Jonases, for example. First concert was in a CLUB downtown where people were smoking and drinking in the back. Now they’re playing sold out arenas.

THIS:

..to THIS:

It’s not that I’m not happy for them, or not proud of them, but it’s like.. I don’t know. Today is Bamboozle, and for the first time in (3?) years, they’re not performing because they’re busy doing a Disney promotion.

Do they even care?

Or is it now some coporate conspiracy to turn them into people they’re not?

This is getting ridiculous and out of hand, and I mean that in respect to my paranoia and the Jonases’ fame.

“From here on out, I am only interested in what is real. Real people, real feelings, that’s it, that’s all I’m interested in.” — Almost Famous

[PS: Does anyone want to go see Made of Honor with me?!]