food lion, Captain Party, alcohol, beach, pool, jacuzzi, "'Hot Tubbin' by Foreigner" (haha), thrift stores, haunted Jesus portraits, "HUNK" postcards, Mafia, the Billy Joel musical, bottles of Andre, comedy DVDs that I'd already seen over winter break, Mustmayostardayonnaise, Fargo (a beach movie if there ever was one), the Crabby Shack, waitress: "It's my first day herre," three-hour impromptu singalongs until 5AM, sunrise, i, pool (the game), award show medley featuring 'Ladybugs', watching IN FULL 'What a Girl Wants' featuring Amanda "I Really Suck" Bynes, Matt singing "Kiss the Girl," 'shpimp' baskets, wonderful hilarious people, the episode of 'Full House' where DJ has an eating disorder. There's more, I'm sure.
BEST completely unnecessary simile/metaphor used in the Caroline B. Cooney book that I found in the house's bookshelves:
"Christina's eyes frosted, as if it had snowed in her brain."
- Caroline B. Cooney, Snow
I recited that simile at least four times during the week after having read the first three pages of that book. (Ms Cooney used at least one dumb simile device in EVERY PARAGRAPH but that one was certainly the best.)
The only beach week bad points:
for me- losing my necklace outside the hot tub, and because I don't usually go to southern beaches, it's probably gone forever ...
but a bad point that really threw around its weight: witnessing (many times) the Guy I have/had a large girlycrush on fall for a girl who is not me, and having to keep everything within. They only started exhibiting signs of liking each other on the second day I was there (their third); apparently, she is his first real girlfriend ... There were certainly a lot of ephemeral emotions floating around my head for most of the week, then, even though I had an amazing amount of fun, too.
When I got home, I wrote up and articulated most of my feelings in a notepad txt file, saved it, and didn't open it again. I feel better now, perhaps only because I'm not around the two of them together anymore ... even though the girl he likes is a really great person, which is why I hung out with the two of them a lot this week. It's not as though she is a teen-movie-esque Queen Bitch, for that would make their relationship more painful to witness but also give me hope that maybe he would finally see her for her bitchiness and break up and be available again. The Guy's girl is funny, and pretty, and affectionate, and was lucky enough to spend an extra day with him. I am still going to see the Guy this summer and have fun, because he is still my friend and I still enjoy his company just as much as I did before.
But - god - damn.
So, I'm deciding that I've had it up to here with secret crushes. If ever you spot me not taking initiative, slap me in the face. Or maybe not the face, maybe just pinch my arm. Unrequited secret crushes are only good from a writer's standpoint if you can coax something artful and effective and meaningful from them, and nineteen years have proved that I can't. And unrequited secret crushes from any other standpoint, unless they are kept within innocent and flighty grounds (which I always manage, but this one just couldn't be bound), are just big, useless piles of pus. Go take a fucking hike, puncture wounds to the heart.
....
One out of many good points, though: I, unlike the guys who slept in the bunk bed room, did not have to deal ONCE with drunken puking. If not in that of aptly expressing emotions, I continue to reign supreme in the not-puking arena.
......
I am going to go busy myself with sleep.