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[Apr. 21st, 2004|01:45 pm] |
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School is almost out. I am so happy, I could spit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 23rd, 2004|06:05 pm] |
I got in late Sunday night from visiting Dorian in New York City over Spring Break. I have decided that I am making it my mission in life to become a Broadway star.
Forward all my mail to 41st and Broadway. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 3rd, 2004|01:07 pm] |
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I'm alive, I swear. Just incredibly busy. A more indepth update after I get back from grocery shopping. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 26th, 2003|12:31 am] |
I love how my house is so chaotic around the holidays. Mom spends her days planning meals, diagraming sleeping arrangements, shopping, calling relatives, writing Christmas cards, and baking Christmas cookies. Dad's schedule pretty much doesn't change; he wakes up, goes to work, comes home, banters with us for a bit (one night, he joined Zander, Zane, and Zachariah in a game of basketball; one night, he made dinner while Mom supervised, making a huge mess of the kitchen, somehow getting spaghetti noodles stuck to the ceiling and sauce on the wall, while Mom laughed at him), and goes to bed. Dad has always been the eye of the Hawkins hurricane. The rest of us are constantly in some state of chaos, running around like the proverbial chicken, while Dad takes us all in stride, smiling as we fret about our lives ending from some catastrophe and calmly explaining to us how we can fix it.
This year was pretty much like every other holiday season that we've had. Zane had to be taken to the emergency room when he OD'd on Christmas cookies. Zander and I had a brief discussion in Zan's room on the 23rd, where we discovered that neither of us had been Christmas shopping yet, so we had to rush to the mall, and were nearly trampled by the crowds; Zander nearly hyperventilated in an overly crowded American Eagle. Somehow we managed to get everything for everyone; last year, I woke up early Christmas morning with the horrifying realization that I had forgotten to get a gift for Zane. I went stumbling around the house at 3 in the morning, searching for wrapping paper to re-wrap the extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring Sophie had given to me (when I recounted the story to Soph later that morning, complete with tales of me slipping on the stairs and ass-thudding the whole way down, and getting the worst papercut known to man on the paper, causing Zane to give me a strange look before opening it, she laughed for about fifteen minutes straight).
Changes this year :
-Zared was actually amiable. Granted, he spent most of the time on the phone with Eleanor, but none of us minded much. Zared is usually a huge downer on the holidays; when we were little, he was the one who informed us that there was no Santa Claus, that it was a physical impossibility for one man to visit every house at exactly midnight (I think at the time, I burst into tears, called him a poopeyhead, and ran to Mom). But this year, he was downright pleasant. I want to find Eleanor and give her a million dollars. That woman deserves my firstborn children.
-Sophie got to spend Christmas with us, because her parents are out of town on one of their digs. So we spent the nights staying up all hours, talking about absolutely nothing.
-Dorian came down again. I took it upon myself to show him the finer points of Tulsa. Which pretty much consisted of the backseat of my car. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 22nd, 2003|01:51 pm] |
There are three shopping days left until Christmas. And I have yet to start.
May God have mercy on my soul. |
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| Dorian. |
[Dec. 2nd, 2003|11:32 pm] |
"Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair. There was something in his face that made one trust him at once. All the candour of youth was here, as well as all youth's passionate purity. One felt that he had kept himself unspotted from the world."
-The Picture of Dorian Gray
Oscar Wilde
I think I'm officially smitten. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 1st, 2003|06:13 pm] |
Thanksgiving, somehow, went off without major injuries.
Highlights
- There were twenty-two people squashed into our house.
- Zared came home for the week. And he brought his girlfriend. None of us knew that he had a girlfriend. Her name is Eleanor, but Zared called her Nore. She has blonde hair, blue eyes, was a cheerleader in her high school and looked it; tiny waist, large breasts, glittering white smile, skin clearer than water. She's a pre-law, like Zare; they have classes together, which is how they met. They spent a lot of time touching; nothing too profane, but lots of hugging, holding hands, snuggling on the couch. She told me that she loves Zared's sense of humor. I told her that I wasn't aware that Zared had a sense of humor. She stayed in my room and didn't comment once on the poster on my wall. At least not to my face.
- It was the first year that Dad hasn't had to work on Thanksgiving since I can remember. So it was the first year that the huge turkey dinner wasn't at noon so Dad would be on time for his shift, leaving the rest of us stuffed with turkey and miserable for the rest of the day.
- From Mom's side : Aunt Jane and Uncle Ben, with our cousins Will and Alex, came up from Austin; Uncle Jack and our cousin Luke flew in from New York
- From Dad's side : Uncle David and Aunt Emily, with our cousin Jake, came in from Oklahoma City; Aunt Carrie, her fiance Nathan, and their son Elijah, were in from Los Angeles.
- Zeke brought a rather attractive friend with him from New York. His name is Dorian; he and I had a long conversation one night about being named after obscure literary characters. He had eyes that were so blue they practically sparkled in the sunlight, with dirty blonde/brown hair that was just the perfect length. He was pretty much perfect; his arms, his back, his height, his lips. I was definitely smitten.
- Zane attempted to make pumpkin pies with Alex and Jake, who, besides Elijah who's nine months old, are the two youngest cousins, at twelve and eight. Alex made the pie crust, and Zane and Jake made the filling; then they ran off to play football in the front yard with the rest of the cousins, forgetting about them until a loud pop was heard from the house, followed by Zane stopping short in the yard, his face turning white. He dropped the ball, and gasped, "Ohmygod. The pies!" and ran in the house, Alex and Jake on his heels. The pies had exploded in the oven. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2003|01:05 pm] |
I am making it my mission in life to find Zachariah a boyfriend.
And that boyfriend will be Jai Rodriguez. And he can bring his 'Queer Eye' friends, and we'll have tea parties and stuff. And life will be good. And colorful. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2003|05:47 pm] |
.PAST.
1) first grade teacher's name: Mrs. Sudol
2) last word you said: fun
3) last song you sang: 'pretty fly for a white guy'
4) last thing you laughed at: sophie
5) last time you cried: last night
.PRESENT.
1) what's in your cd player: queen 'greatest hits'
2) what color socks are you wearing: none
3) what's under your bed: the floor
4) what time did you wake up today: 10:45
.FUTURE.
1) what is your career going to be: i have absolutely no idea. my major is music journalism
2) where are you going to live: new york city, ideally
3) how many kids do you want: none
4) what kind of car will you drive: one that works and doesn't have to be shared with a member of my family
.CURRENT.
1) current hair: waist-length, black-brown
2) current clothes: an OU sweatshirt and jeans
3) current jewelry: class ring, watch, necklace
4) current annoyance: Zac watching yesterdays game downstairs and giving me the play-by-play of how bad the Sooners spanked A&M
5) current smell: homemade bread from Mom
6) current longing: home
7) current desktop picture: Freddie Mercury
8) current favorite music artist: my band
9) current book: 'Picture of Dorian Gray' by Oscar Wilde
10) current worry: chemistry
11) current hate: feeling alone
12) story behind your username: a lyric from a song I like
13) current favorite article of clothing: t-shirts
14) favorite physical feature on a guy?: so many things, so few space.
15) one person you wish was here right now: Sophie
16) i am happiest when..: When I am with friends/family
17) i feel lonely when..: I'm alone?
18) favorite author(s): Oscar Wilde
19) do you think too much: except on things I should be thinking of.....like chemistry
20) if you could live anywhere in the world, where: New York City
21) do you have any regrets: no
22) sex or love: love
23) favorite coffee: caramel macchiato
24) favorite smell: clean sheets
25) what makes you mad: my brothers
26) favorite way to waste time: reading
27) what is your best quality: I'll let others answer that
28) are in currently in love/lust: Orlando Bloom. Just like every other female on the planet. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 6th, 2003|08:50 pm] |
I am my parent's daughter. However hectic and chaotic that may be.
After four boys, Mom was ready for a girl. When she was pregnant with Zander and me, the doctor told her that she was pregnant with twin boys.
And Mom was sad.
But she didn't give up hope. She secretly stockpiled pink things, hid them from Dad in an upstairs closet, and planned the things that she would do with her future daughter. She was so desperate for a girl, that had I been a boy (and my name would have been Zedekiah Abbott, for shitsake), she would have dressed me in pink anyway, my father be damned.
And then we were born, Zander and I. Zander was born first. For a split second, in the midst of the pain of delivering two six pound babies, she felt mildly disappointed. Not in Zander (as she is too quick to point out in this story, refusing to let me think that there has ever been a possibility that I'm the favored twin), because she would never regret any of her children; she was just now realizing the fact that she may never get a daughter to cuddle with, to dress up in frilly dresses, to watch movies and cry with, and to band with against the testosterone ridden house.
And then, five minutes later, I was born. Mom was preparing herself for Dad to introduce her to her two sons, was preparing to find her disappointment in the fact that she would never have a little girl, preparing herself to try to stop her tears and greet her little angels, when Dad approached her with two babies bundled in blankets : one in blue, and one in pink.
Mom sobbed as Dad handed her Zander Amadeus and Zooey Aelis.
Mom and Dad had been waiting for a daughter for five years. And finally I was here.
And they relished in it.
When Dad schlepped my brothers and I to sports (from ages five to seventeen, I played soccer, softball, volleyball, basketball, track, and for a frightening two hours, I was on the golf team), Mom transported me to Girl Scouts (where I had the highest amount of cookie sales, mainly due to my brothers needing Samoas and Thin Mints like they need oxygen), piano lessons (taken with a neighbor woman when I was six, and whose name I can't remember and Mom won't reveal; which makes me very suspicious, especially since I remember a plethora of blonde hair, and no one in my family is blonde), dance lessons (they started at age three; tap lasted a whole three months, until my practicing scuffed the floor and the homemaker in Mom couldn't take it anymore; jazz lasted two years, to make room for ballet, which continues to spread it's pink tutu-ed glory) the idea of which was born from Mom wanting to see me all dolled up in tulle and lace, horseback riding lessons, voice lessons, and anything else that Mom could think of that had anything to do with femininity.
I was my parents daughter, but I was practically my parents daughters. I was in different activities for different parents; they saw me as two different people. With Dad, I was one of the boys; he was used to seeing me sweaty, dirtstained, concentrated on winning a game. Dad and I spent the most time in the car, driving to practice or games, or on the field, as he had constructed different workouts for each child in their different teams, and he coached my soccer team for five years; or when I was working on homework, as Dad, being in the medical field, was Mr. Math and Science Homework Man. Mom and I spent time in the kitchen, making meals for the family together, showing her the new dance steps I learned, practicing whatever music I was performing at whatever recital I had coming up, or attending Girl Scout meetings.
And people wonder why kids are worn down after high school. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2003|12:26 am] |
Zac and I raided the local Wal-Mart's post Halloween candy sales. I'm up to my ears in Snickers bars.
Sophie called last night. She had door duty at her house, and was watching 'The Shining' in between doorbell rings. She thinks that the younger siblings of our hometown heroes showed up at her door; however, given the dark night, the costumes, and the mental image of Jack Nicholson in the back of brain, she can't be sure.
Living with Zane and Zachariah has made me antisocial. |
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| I get a little nostalgic at times. In case no one's noticed. |
[Oct. 31st, 2003|09:17 pm] |
My first Halloween memory was when I was 6 years old, and Mom was taking us trick or treating. Usually both Dad and Mom took us around the neighborhood, but Dad had to work the night shift at the hospital. It was a chore, taking six young children trick or treating; it was a chore taking one young child trick or treating. Mom and Dad argued for weeks, whether Dad should try to get the night off, whether they should hire someone to go around the blocks with Mom, whether they should just buy bags of candy and split them between the six of us.
Zachariah (a football player, wearing his Junior League uniform and pads) was juggling his candy bag with Zander and my hands whenever we approached streets that needed crossing; as the night wore on, I moved from grabbing at his hand to hanging around his neck as he gave my tired legs a break and let me piggy-back ride for the rest of the trick or treat route. Zachariah had taken our parents consideration of getting a babysitter to walk around with us and Mom as a personal insult to his role as the man among the children. As the oldest, he had always been able to control us in some way. Control is the wrong word; he had our respect. If Zachariah said "jump," we usually laugh, but a little voice in the back of our heads consider it. Maybe jumping isn't such a bad idea. Maybe Zac's right, and I should exercise a bit. Jumping jacks are rather fun, you know. This was partially due to his role as the oldest, and partially due to his status in our school's society; for the first, and last, time in our scholarly lives, the six of us were in the same school (elementary, with a Hawkins in every grade, 1st through 5th), where Zachariah was already a school hero (and would be for the rest of his public school career) as a good football player; the football player who won every one of his games. So when Zac demanded that Zander and I hold on to his hands, and Zander, stop jumping around, that hurts my shoulder, and Zooey! Stop running! Wait for the rest of us!, the two of us listened and obeyed.
Zared (Einstein, complete with wig; though, much to his chagrin, he was often mistaken for Dr. Frankenstein) had taken years worth of data and had marked out our route; he had candy bag in one hand, hand drawn map in another, studying it with the intensity of a brain surgeon. Adults that we ran across often joked with Mom that Zared must be very serious about his candy, and were confused when Mom told them that more than likely, he would eat only a few choice pieces, a few candy bars perhaps, before donating his candy to his brothers; Zared wasn't very fond of the candy aspect of Halloween, but the scietific precision of the data of which house gave out the good candy and which house gave out pencils. He loved being able to contribute something for the gain of our family, even if it was just which house would give us our favorite candy bars. When we all gathered around a door to accept our candy, Zared would join us occasionally; more often than not, he stood at the end of the drive at Mom's side, smiling occasionally at the other mothers who remarked on the strange self control he had for a nine year old, scribbing notes on his paper as he observed our candy bags as we returned to him, spitting the stimuli that he craved.
Zeke (a vampire, with his black hair slicked back, his face powdered and rouged, plastic teeth, and black cape that he kept swishing around girls that we saw and pretended to sink his teeth into their necks; after about the fourth time, Zachariah grabbed him by the back of his cape and drug him away) was the sibling that Zander and I took turns approaching the door first. Zac and Zared had joined heads and hypothesized that the cutest/prettiest/most adorable child would dazzle the candy giver into dealing out the most candy, as they were stupefied by the excess of cute that we radiated. Zander and I were a shoo-in in the adorable category; we were twins, with identical red yarn wigs and polka dotted jumpers, our plump faces with circles of red on our cheeks. But Zeke was just so damn pretty. He always was. He always will be. He had just gotten a child modeling job in Oklahoma City. Zeke used to play football or soccer with Zac (Zac would murder him in football, and Zeke would dominate in soccer; no matter what they played, it usually ended up a huge wrestling match anyway, with the rest of us jumping in), but now, when he wanted to play, he had to take extra precautions; Mom was always shouting, "ZEKE ALASTAIR! BE CAREFUL!" out the window, to Zachariah's disgust. He had always gotten extra attention because of his looks, whether it was good or bad; waitresses at restaurants would bring him slices of pie on the house, but boys his age would tell him he looked like a girl. But it didn't matter that night; boys and girls alike embraced him as adults crowed, "Well, aren't you CUTE?!" and poured candy by the handful into outstretched bags.
Zane (a pirate, complete with eyepatch, drawn-on moustache, and stuffed parrot clinging to his shoulder) was seven, and gripped Mom's hand with vise-like strength. He ventured away from her side only long enough to walk with the rest of us to the door, and beelined straight back to her, smiling and saying thank you as instructed by Mom. Zane has always been extremely shy; he didn't talk in school until October of every year. Each year, Mom and Dad would get called in for a parent/teacher conference with Zane's teacher and counselor for that year, and they'd get asked to have Zane tested for autism. And every year, Mom and Dad woul dhave to explain that Zane was just shy, he was really very smart, and he'd warm up to the class eventually, it just takes him a while to warm up in a new environment. The school, when Zane was in third grade, started to listen to Mom and Dad, and had to get one of the others, Zeke, Zared, or Zac, to show up unexpectedly in Zane's classes; Zane started asking the teachers when his brothers were coming, did they know if they were coming today? And when they did arrive, Zane would talk rapidly, leading them around the room, showing them the different things in the room, introducing them to the teacher and the students. But this was Halloween, and Zane was seven and in second grade, and hid behind Mom's legs when neighborhood children joined up with us; but as soon as they were gone, he practically dislocated Mom's shoulder trying to keep up with the rest of us yet still gripping Mom's hand, shouting to Zander why exactly Michaelangelo was the better Ninja Turtle.
Zander and I were six. We were dressed as Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, the first of a long line of twin related costumes, but one of the many twin outfits we had; with six children, it was easy for Mom to just put us in jeans and mathcing t-shirts in our early years. This was the first year that Zan and I were allowed to go trick or treating with the rest of the family; we were finally old enough. We walked down the streets of our neighborhood, holding Zachariah's hands, feeling on top of the world. We were with our family, we were finally able to participate in every Halloween tradition at the house, pumpkin carving, trick or treating, and decorating the house, we were getting to stay out past our bedtime to gather candy and then go to Dad's office to X-ray our candy.
Since then, Halloween has been my favorite holiday. Next to Christmas.
Which is a whole nother memory altogether. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 29th, 2003|04:56 pm] |
Zane and I went to the football game to watch Zachariah play. I thought my chest was going to explode with pride.
My family is extremely close-knit. Maybe it's because there's only a year between our ages; maybe it's because we grew up in a gated community that didn't have many other children; maybe it's because we've been through so much together where it's been 'us vs. them', first with Zane and the trouble he had before his diagnosis (fainting in class to the point where people avoided him, thinking that he was contagious and dying), then with Zared skipping two grades (his intelligence alienated himself), then with Zachariah coming out, and then with Zeke getting a modeling contract and moving to New York City (which was practically unheard of in Oklahoma). Zander and I are pretty much the only ones who didn't have anything life-altering occur to us; unless you count being members of the Hawkins family.
My brothers are my best friends. Not many people understand what it's like to actually enjoy spending time with their siblings. Not many people would be able to spend their freshman year of college living with two of their brothers. Not many people are lucky enough to have what the six of us have. And I feel special for being able to be apart of my family. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 19th, 2003|03:17 pm] |
Sophie just left. She came down for the weekend. It hurts so much now that she's gone. It's amazing how overwhelming the pain is when a weekend visit is over, whether it's my parents, my brothers, Sophie, just a random person I used to hang out with back home. It's especially hard with Soph, because I live with two of my brothers, so I have some sort of constant familial contact. But best friends usually only come in the form of one. Sophie and I have best friends since elementary school; she moved into the neighborhood when I was about 6. The lack of young female playmates around our neighborhood forced Sophie and I together as kids; by the time middle school came around, we bonded with the love of the same band, and went on summerlong searches for signs of members of the band, which unfortunately, proved fruitless every summer. But as the years went by, we grew closer than sisters.
I know that, given an hour or so, I'll get back into my OU routine, and not seeing Sophie every single day like I used to will be remedied by calling her and crying the blues of friends separated after years of slumber parties, finishing each others sentences, and being minutes away. We'll talk about how much it sucks that she's still in high school and I'm at college already. We'll laugh as we talk about the hot college boys I'm surrounded by, but deep down, we'll both know that we'd be laughing harder if we could be surrounded by them together. We'll go over our respective calendars with a fine-toothed comb until we find the next time she ca ntear herself away from her senior year to come back, or if I can syncronize with my brothers a weekend where I can either take the car that the three of us share or get them to come home for a weekend with me (which is rather hard with Zachariah on the football team). But until we find that day, we'll just keep on laughing on the phone, wishing that we could be laughing together. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 16th, 2003|09:18 pm] |
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The first scarf of the season was worn today. Oh yes, my friends. Scarf weather is here. With stripes. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 13th, 2003|10:37 pm] |
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I don't remember my first kiss. Is that bad? It seems that the first kiss has so much built in to it. There are Molly Ringwald movies about it. Judy Blume books. But I can't remember when....or where.....or even who. What does that make me? A slut? Or just forgetful? |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 11th, 2003|03:31 pm] |
Zane had a doctor's appointment yesterday. He has to go in for monthly checkups for his diabetes; unfortunately, he can't stand hopsitals or doctors. So I had to skip philosophy to accompany him to the doctor.
The first time Zane was taken to the hospital, before his diagnosis, it was after he had fainted in the middle of the cafeteria in elementary school. When he woke up, he was in a blindingly white room surrounded by people in scrubs and paper facemasks. Dad was also in the room, as he had been paged as soon as Zane arrived. According to Dad, Zane woke up, looked around the room for approximately five seconds before opening his mouth and letting out a dead awakening scream. Not even the sight of Dad could make him stop screaming and crying; Dad finally had to give him something to knock him out and shut him up, the first time Dad's ever drugged up a member of the family. He wasn't the anesthesiologist for any of our births, any of Zachariah's broken bones, the surgery Zander ahd when he had his tonsils taken out; but Zane's screaming made him break his vow of familial separation and knock him out.
Yesterday, we entered the doctor's office with Zane clutching my elbow, his eyes darting around the waiting room like he was anticipating the KGB to appear from the woodwork and take him away. We sat in the room for twenty minutes; I read my philosophy book, Zane paced around the room, jumping like a startled rabbit when anyone opened the door. He finally got called in; I reminded him that I was going to be right out here, that nothing was going to happen to him, it was just a checkup, he's been having them monthly for a year now and nothing bad has ever happened.
Ten minutes later, a nurse came out, requesting that I go in and tend to Zane, as he wasn't being very cooperative. Meaning that he kept threatening to stab the nurses with their needles if they dared try to take blood from him unsuccessfully one more time. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 7th, 2003|09:37 pm] |
I remember the exact date when Zachariah came out to us. I was eleven, and I couldn't figure out why girls would pass us by when we were together and cast forlorn looks towards Zac, or when guys would do anything to avoid him, guys that had played football with him for years. Zac had forever been the idol of my friends, male and female, and I couldn't understand why the same people who had once been fighting over zander and I, fighting over who got to sit with us at the cafeteria for the off-chance of being invited to our house and see Zac, these people were now spitting at him and calling him names. I couldn't understand why zac came home from football practice one day almost in tears, because the coach had told him that there had been complaints from some of the other players, that they wanted zac to either quit the team, or use a different locker room. I couldn't understand why suddenly my brothers were eating lunch together at their high school, and walking the halls together, and glaring at random people together. Never before had you been able to see Zachariah, Zared, and Zeke in the same proximity. Usually you could find Zac with the jocks, Zared with the intellectuals, and Zeke with the trendy beautiful people that every one wishes they could be a part of.
And I remember the day when Zac sat me down and told me exactly what was going on. He explained to me that there was something about him that was different in him than in the rest of the family. This was something that not a lot of other people understood, and because they don't understand it, that some people resent it and sometimes they resent him, too. But no matter what people say about him, he was still the same person he always was, and he still loved me very much.
The next day, Zane got suspended for properly kicking the ass of a boy in his biology class who told him that he wasn't allowed to sit by him anymore because "faggot is contagious." Zane had never been in a fight before. He's usually the most passive member of the family, becoming the mediator of our family feuds. But that day, he broke Michael Whitten's nose and jaw, because Mike told him that his parents told him that because Zachariah was gay, he was going to hell....and the rest of us probably were too, because "faggot is contagious."
Really makes you wonder whether Christians should be focusing their attentions on the "wrongs" of homosexuality, or the wrongs within themselves. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 6th, 2003|03:25 pm] |
My parents must have been on some major drugs when we all were born. Did they want us to be the subject of ridicule for all of our lives? If they had problems with their names (Jim and Sarah), then they should have gotten them legally changed. Not taken their nomial frustrations out on their newborn children.
Zachariah Aaron, Zared Alexander, Zeke Alastair, Zane Aiden, Zander Amadeus, Zooey Aelis.
No one should have to go through life as Zooey Aelis. |
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