Meeting Mitch

I wrote this last summer, so I would not forget about meeting mitch. Thought it might intrest someone who reads this. (Only Marie, but hey, here you go Marie!)

As I walked into the party, Chase greeted me with lots of enthusiasm. She introduced me to everyone I didn’t know. Anaya and I had come together, and I knew Amelia from another party. The other girls were really nice. There was one boy there. He was CUTE! I stared at him and then tried not to look at him. A couple of times he talked to me, but that was all.
Later, when the party went swimming, he made magnificent dives! He spoke with Amelia a lot until she started her “philosopher ways” then, when Chase and one of her friends, Octavia, started to wrestle, Amelia said, “They would make a good couple.” He looked at her with disgust and said, “Why do you think like that?”
One the way back to the party room, he was hopping on one foot trying to scratch his ankle. I laughed and said “Shouldn’t you just stop and scratch your ankle Then keep walking?” He smiled his cute smile and said, “I’m to lazy” and blushed a little.
At the party, Chase finally got me to dance. Whenever he thought I wasn’t looking, I saw him staring. He smiled a couple of times.
Chase, Anaya, Amelia, and I soon started chasing him around. We were trying to get him to dance. He mostly got caught by me.
At the party, there was also a TV room. Slowly, people were gathering. In front of the TV was a pillow and a giant bouncy ball. Mitch sat at the pillow and I sat against the ball. Chase sat between us. Mitch had found a feather and kept tickling my nose w/ it. I grabbed at the feather, but he grabbed my hand, he was holding my hand.
When Chase left, I scooted over so that I could have more room. As an experiment, I set my hand down in between him and me, he put his hand on mine. I felt tremors all over my body. Sweat started to form on my forehead, and my heart felt as though it was going so fast is would burst.
He left the room and came back and gave me a piece of paper. It had his name, number, and e-mail.

Yeah, well, he was still an asshole in the end.

A fraction of thoughts about love.

Recently, I have been told by a guy who I have known for most of my life that he likes me. I like him too, he knows that, and I have thought, about how wonderful it truly can be to like someone in a romantic way, and have them like you back. But it is confusing too, I can never know what this guy is thinking at the moment, and I do wish I knew what we were supposed to do? Is this right? Is this what most people feel. He has liked me since the end of 6th grade, he kept it for so long, I dont believe it. Well, theres some random shit comeing out of my brain, but this is just a fraction of what I think about all the time. Just a fraction.

Stereotypes

You know what I hate, stereotypes. I get a good amount of that. I started thinking about that a lot when I was in a car with a carpool. I was going to dance and the mother of one of my sisters friends was talking to me. She asked me something about if my class had a lot of “Girly Girls” in it. I asked her what a “Girly Girl” was in her mind, though I already knew. She said, (Just as I thought) she saw them as people kind of like me, girls obsessed with make-up and all into clothes and stuff. I then made it fairly clear to her that I was offended, by telling her I didn’t see very many girls in my class that way, and it seemed more like a stereotype then an actual thing. When she persisted, I said why don’t we just agree to disagree, then tried to change the subject. She just went back and tried to prove her point.

When I thought back on this, I thought about other stereotypes about me. One is that I am a rich girl. I guess in a way it COULD be a fact, but siriously, people call me rich because I have a big house, nice cars, I travel with my family, but the truth is, I am no richer then the average kid in my class.
It is less expensive to live on the coast, and we have lived there for about 10 years, (and market prices have gone up). The nice cars are bought with the money we make off of the ones we sell, and we usually have those cars for seven or eight years.
I guess I could be called a rich person, but people say it in a bad way. It hurts too, it’s as bad a racism, I can’t help it, what am I supposed to do, give all the money to charity? Yeah we give a fair amount but my family doesn’t like, buy a smaller house just because of mean thigns said to me!

It makes me wonder what other stereotypes people get…