What Happens

I’ve just created a new blog featuring my poetry. Feel free to explore it! 🙂 I hope it’s satisfactory.

Always a Flight Taking Off

Dear, oh, dear darlings!!!

I haven’t posted in ages and ages! But it’s about time, I’m spilling over with things to share. Thankfully, I was just looking through a stack of old papers (Spring cleaning, anybody) and discovered a clue I had left behind concerning my login information! I haven’t remembered it in ages. Therefore I am now on. Ta da! 😉 Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m so forgetful, it drives me insane.

“Tell me what you waiting for,

Look across the great divide,

Soon they gonna hear the sound, the sound, the sound;

And we come running.”

-Youngbloodhawke

  

Chills running underneath my spine..

Darlings,

It’s undeniably strange, huns, being an almost-adult.

You’ve got a card, you’ll soon be driving out past 11o’clock. Gawsh, it’s too much to think about, my future. Too much going on right now. Too many things I want to try out, accomplish, and complete. I used to think that adulthood was far away, and yet now it’s feeling waaay too close. The worst part is that I’m facing it alone. It feels that way, like my parents have finally faced the fact that I’ll soon be on my own. Now that they’ve come to turns with it, their ready to let me go. Slowly but surely, my life is changing. For the worse or for the better, only time can tell.

Head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders..

‘Ello Darlings!

(a la title): That gorgeouss trill in Ariana Grande’s song just takes my breath away. Singing it, thanks to my voice lessons, is a breeze. Yet I still say, nobody can do it as well as that dearie.

You know, admirations’ always provided me with drive. If I admire something, Imonna try to achieve it myself, no matter the cost. Sometimes, unfortunately, that cost includes close friends. It includes sacrifice of time and money. Maybe it means giving up a favorite school, or choosing not to talk to someone you like in order to save face or to not seem desperate. Unfortunately, in the end, even if you achieve the admiration you were going for, it’s not enough. You still want more, maybe something else. More power. We’re all greedy, and we regret that greediness, even as we chase it. I guess that’s wierd, and it’s sad. Makes me want to cry, often, thinking about the things I’ve lost along the way. Yet at the same time, I glow golden-like with self-pride. I’m this way; Missing what I had back then, extremely happy with what I have now, yet not content enough to leave well enough along and give up thinking about the future.

I had a great second/third week of June. It’s been a fantastic summer so far. I was gone at an overnight camp for a little more then a half week. My sis came with me, and she and this one guy she likes met up. It was absolutely adorbs, and the outcome of it is that she basically has a boyfriend. It makes me feel so, so absolutely happy for her! Yet at the same time, it makes me feel pretty darn lonely. Sometimes I just don’t understand what goes on in a guys head when they see a girl. I can’t understand their reasons, and I’m not going to try, but I hate not knowing this sort of thing. I’m not really an expert in anything. And I change my character practically depending on who I’m with. Like around my (basically) best guy friend, I act funky and like a complete doofus. Then around this other guy I know, who likes me, I act all serious and polite and like, chiquesque and things. It’s two sides of me, same person, just separate depending on who I’m comfortable with and how they present themselves to me.

And then there are the third kind, like people who I don’t know where I stand with. Guys I like, or girls I want to be friends with but aren’t yet acquainted with. I don’t know whether to go all nuts, since thats what I normally do with their bestie. I don’t know which side of myself they’ll like best. I guess I end up as a sort of crazy mess. Hey, at least I know I’ve got people who have my back, sorta.

I also know I have enemies. And it hurts when the people who have my back, cajole around with my enemies. And it’s not even my fault they have something against me. But I’m afraid that any comment I say, perchance, when I’m being comfortable around K, will be backlashed by this enemy of mine. That she’ll come out with her long whip of jet-black hair and prepare to set words of steel into my cousin’s heart. And it’s be a real terrible thing, to lose her. It’s few people who have my back, and honestly, I’m the only one who knows much about myself, and it’s so much information. There’s too much information in me, to many passages I could travel down, like a haunted house. I get lost quickly.

Anyhows, it’s late, so I’mma fly.

-Lonely, but Fabulous.

NicoleNonChaire

 

You asked, and I gave in. Gave too much.

‘Ello Darlings!

You know that feeling, when everything’s sad, and your lonely, and your throat hurts from singing, and your feeting from pointing, but your totally satisfied? Ehh, I have that feeling. It’s so fresh outside. Crisp, but not in a frosty way. Crisp like blunt sentences, but warmth attached. They make their point, and they make you joyful. Content, satisfied, peaceful. It’s all a ruse, but you don’t care. You just keep going, keep working to attain it, that wonderful perfection.

  “In the wintertime, keep your feet warm.

But keep your clothes on, and don’t forget me…

In the summertime, by the poolside.

While the fireflies are all around you…

I’ll miss you when I’m lonely,

I’ll miss the sunshine too.”

-Don’t Forget Me by Macy Gray.

I promised I’d tell you more, more about last weekend, and more about this one. Here it is, I suppose. The few details I will divulge. But, honestly, there really isn’t much to tell. Nothing that’s not easier felt then typed. Pretty words aren’t pretty if they aren’t real and true. They’ve no depth. My words, although I try to be as honest as possible, always contain an underlayer (I feel) of discontent and fake poshness… not who I am, but more of, who I wish to be.

“And your words have never left me,

‘cuz I love the simple thought of you.”

-New York by Snow Patrol.

Sheesh, I’m getting really poetical. Moving on! So, I’ll talk briefly about both my weekends. After the Friday-night fiasco (a.k.a. AF’s graduation) I got home pretty early and took a few for a cup of black tea. I also rummaged around for a pair of suitable shoes for the next day. On Saturday morning, I got up at 7a.m., grabbed a comfortable (but light) tan sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans by R&R. I then, accompanied by my rather large and joyful siblings, along with grandmeré and mére, headed off to my childhood park. It’s over two hours away, which almost made me regret the decision to go, but seeing many of the people from the retreat (including a certain alex) and my great aunt sort of got me motivated.

We arrived a bit late. I decided to run to the bathroom for a lipgloss adjustment, and then made my appearance. Most of my friends were there, including the D guys and a few of the stricter chicks who attend their church. I got compliments on my outfit. I also ate some absolutely delicious shashlik, and like, ten pounds of watermelon, haha. It was nice to be in a place that feels like home. I recognized everything, from the trees to the picnic tables we sat at to the paths in the back of the woods. After eating plenty (and then some!) we sat down picnic-style on a pair of comfortable checkered blankets to listen to some small words of wisdom from the pastor. After this was over, I took a few of the girls and decided to go on a hike around the lake. In general, I had a wonderful time. It was rather annoying that in the middle of my bliss, most of the guys ran off on a four-hour hike, but otherwise, I had a blast. I talked to the girls, learned and shared some words of wisdom, and remembered myself as a child.

There, that was last weekend. Now for this one. I got up early in the morning, once more, excited for my first day (ever!) at Hershey’s amusement park. Now, normally we go to a small park in Altoona called Delgrosso, but this year I got invited to spend Senior Day with Becca and Sarah. Since several of my other friends were also coming, I decided to try it out. Honestly, roller coasters scare me to death. I get chills just looking at them.

In the end, though, we did the Comet and the wild cub (or bear, or something). It was nuts! But also absolutely fabulous. I love cheap thrills. It was beautiful all day, and with the help of a bit of sunscreen, I didn’t get burned in the least. Mainly, much as I wanted to hang with J, after seeing her whenever she first came in, I lost her. Nonetheless, I met somebody else who was almost as interesting. Maria, about to move to Colorado, is majorly sweet. She’s so polite!

We met on the car ride over, since I’d asked Becca to drive me, and when we met the girls at Sheetz I noticed they’d brought an unfamiliar face. Naturally, I needed to introduce myself. On the car ride over, we chose to indulge in each other’s interests. We started out with Lord of the Rings, and guess where we ended up? Ballet! Apparently, just like me, she’s a dancer. On top of that, though, we share a crazy amount in common. For instance, we both started only about a year and a half ago. We both got our first pointe shoes in March. Although she goes to a different studio, it was fantastic to meet someone who shares my passions. M and I did splits in the gas station, battéments in line for cupcakes, and showed each other our pointed feet and careful arches on the ferris wheel.

I had a blast. All it takes, really, are the right people, and you can enjoy yourself anywhere, even in a place as intimidating as roller-coaster central.

-Lonely but Fabulous

N.C.A.

*P.S. I suppose I ought to change my mantra. Any ideas?

To Be Inspiring

I’ve always wanted to inspire others. This blog has been one of the many mediums I’ve used in order to do that. Ballet, photography, clothing, poetry, DIY’ing, makeup… it’s all a part of my search for beauty. It’s wonderful to know that I’ve inspired others, too. Thanks to darling Amanda for nominating me for this award! She does inspire me, too, with her lovely advice and constant ideas.

The guidelines are these:

1. Thank and link the amazing person who nominated you.
2. List the rules and display the award.
3. Share seven facts about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other amazing blogs and comment on their posts to let them know they have been nominated.
5. Optional: Proudly display the award logo on your blog and follow the blogger who nominated you.

Seven (rather personal) Facts About Myself:

1. I don’t have enough time, nor space, to write everything that I wish I could. I can’t imagine people reading the whole entry I write as it is. A huge thanks to those who do, actually, read everything, and especially to those who comment.

2. I tend to respond differently to different social situations. As a result, I often charm the people I don’t particularly want to admire me, and cause those whom I wish would adore me to groan. That kind of response just confuses me. Although it makes sense that, because of my nervousness, I laugh way too often and way too loudly, therefore causing these groans in these types of situations… oh my gosh…

3. Writing here really helps me to sort through my emotions, and although I don’t always print what I wrote in my draft (mainly because my common sense tends to take over halfway through, thankfully) it’s really a way to let loose and vent.

4. I find myself constantly getting myself injured in the throes of enthusiasm. For instance, in an attempt to multitask, it often happens that I end up doing things that include (but are not limited to): Burning myself, snipping a palm, pricking a finger, turning and therefore spraining my ankle, straining my heel terribly after being en pointe, receiving muscle fatigue, bruising three toenails (leaving them purple)… you get the idea.

5. I always feel the pressure to perform, to outdo. If I had one way to describe my style, it would be glamorous. I like to impress, to make a good (and lasting) first impression.

Only two more to go! Hmmm…

6. I often give out great advice, according to (several) friends I’m very wise, but I often forget to take my own advice, or choose to act passively, rather then listen to my conscience… this resulted in my troublesome reputation.

7.  I’m often jealous of others (think my ex-boyfriend, for practically being a professional dancer, and my bestie, for being so absolutely gorgeous). Yet I’m also easily empathetic. I realize the hard work that gets put into being fabulous. Everyone has issues, family issues, self confidence, hoots and stares, etc. Somehow, though, I end up ignoring all the bad signs people are giving me and give them the benefit of the doubt. I don’t understand, sometimes, how other people can be so cruel. They don’t see the problems these people are facing. This creates a conflicting sort of trust..

Now it’s time to nominate 15 blogs that inspire me! Let me see here…

• Wanderlust
• TheOxfordOwl
• ScribblingwithStardust
• MakeupCrazy
• TwinLittleOwles
• Olivia
• BlushingBeauty
• Amria
• LittleBeautyBuddha
• WhenLifeBegins
• SimpleHeartGirl
• Jacquie Navarro
• LisiHarrison
• SweetMagnoliaChic
• ThePerksofBeingaBookworm
• Armani

There are my ten bloggers! Aall of you for making my wordpress reader so sweet with your lovely posts, all of you inspire me to be better, give me fantastic advice, and to the very core of my being, I thank you.

-Lonely but Fabulous

N.C.A.

I need you like a heart needs a beat.

‘Ello Darlings,

You know, a lot can happen in a weekend! Mine, (probably) unlike yours consists of Sunday, and Monday. Friday and Saturday evenings are, obviously, free, but they aren’t officially part of that. Anyways, I’ve got to tell you all about everything before I forget it, since I haven’t the energy nor the inclination to fill up precious journal pages with this. Typing is just that much more efficient when it comes to space, and speed, and etc.

But I haven’t come here to rant about my typing skills (avg. wpm being 85, not that you want to know). I’ve much more important things to rant about. Therefore, as the whisperer would have it, “Let us begin.”

I’m holding on a rope, got me ten feet off the ground.

I’m hearing watcha say, but I just can’t make a sound.

-Apologize by One Republic.

As I’m sure you all realize, people often say things they don’t mean. Other times, they are simply so overly nervous, skittish, and generally over complimented that they can’t get a word out of their mouths. That, to be honest, was me last Friday night. You see, we were invited to a small co-ops graduation by, like, three different families. Naturally, we chose to go, especially since, as on the back of the one invite, “there will be cake.” My brothers thought that line especially catching. Personally, the reason I was slightly (kay, majorly) excited for this particular event is because AF is graduating. AF and I have shared a certain… affection… for each other since we first met when I was nine (or so). This began as hand-holding and is now… to be honest… I don’t know how to define our relationship.

What I do know is that his mom (no matter how sweet, yet very intimidating she may be) really likes me. That’s always a good sign, right? And whenever he saw my face in the crowd (standing up there in his suit and bow tie, a little to the right next to his parents and the other graduates), I just about went red, or pink, or orange, or all three. But my eyes were shining, and my smile was wide. It’s weird, to see people growing up, and knowing you will be up there too, next year. Not in the same spot, of course, but in the same position. It’s also strange to see people looking to me for affirmation, in a way. He searched my face, but in a happy way. I missed that, haven’t seen him for almost a year. He was valedictorian of the class and said a fantastic speech that had everyone laughing.

Afterwards, we went downstairs for our cake. Although it was nearly impossible to get over to him (he was being mobbed by his many fans), I spoke with his brother for a while. This kid is hilarious, and very good looking, similair to his older brother in one way, but quite different. I like the both of them, fine young men. But the second AF had a free moment, he came over to our little group, and almost immediately struck up a conversation with me.

(From now on ommitted names in the following) Allie scootched back, Hannah looked at me and then him in feigned surprise, and Deni stood there and smiled. AF’s brother waggled his eyebrows. And what does AF do? He complimented me. Said, “You look really nice today.” I just stood there and guffawed, attempting to hide my smile and also to cough out a , you too. By then, our group had dispersed, and AF and I walked over to the water stand. He poured me some first. Gosh, what a gentleman.

So I don’t know what to think, other then, I’m flattered by his attention. It was hilarious, his cousin Diana was talking to us, and I met a few of his friends whom had come, (some of whom I had known before, others not). Before we left, she mentionted that the F guys talk about me (me? oh joy) a lot. I wonder why…. xD Anyhow, my sister Deni is convinced he is still into me. I suppose that could be. To bet honest, I feel like I don’t deserve his attention. He is so accomplished, more proficient in two instruments then I am in one. He’s graduated as top of his class, and was so busy hand-shaking all night, he barely had a free moment. I was proud, yet reminiscent, at the same time.

At the end of the night, a guy came in and asked to talk to the director. After a short whispering session, the man made an announcement. Brother stood there, waggling his eyebrows and attempting to point backwards without attracting AF’s attention. After the man was done, I looked over at AF, who was truly shocked. I’ve never felt more happy for someone, ever. He’s gotten a full, 4-year scholarship. Life is good.

Now, I will write about Saturday, but in a different post, since this one is already getting on some bit of length, and I have so much to tell.

-Lonely but Fabulous

Nicole NonChaire

‘Sitting in the Corner

‘Ello Darlings;

“Hipster: Because it takes a lot of effort to look like you don’t care.”

So Here I am, sitting back at home in my sunny, yellow hall. Finally, I get a minute to breathe! Not that I needed one, I was taking plenty of breaths this weekend, but it passed in a forever and a flurry at the same time. I had an absolutely phenomenal time. In homage to my dearest friend’s wishes for me, I’d say, many of my hopes were established.

That said, I’ve decided on a theme for this summer. I feel like it’s the perfect medium between my usual preppy and the impossible-to-reach boho theme I’m going for. I’m going to be hip! Fa la la (: . Give me a cute oversized tee with rolled up sleeves, fantastic but basic black pants, my studded sneakers, and some boring beanie. Or, better yet, I’ll take those phenomenal ripped up shorts, grab an oversized plaid sweater and a pair of nerdy glasses. There ya go, babe. You always had it coming for you, full circle. Yus, darlings, that’s me. Switching from Hipster to Romantic to Preppy to Overdressed, and now back to Hipster.

“You’ve come a long way, baby.” *laughs* (Anybody recognize this line? I love Spoken Word.)

So my weekend, as I was saying, was fabulous. I played sports I didn’t even know I was good at! I flew a kite, played frisbee, got compliments during soccer, some kartoshka (volleyball, but the Russian version), and even played catch with a football! I’m decent at spinning those balls, as you can see. Let me talk about it in further detail.

So I was in State College the bulk of this past week. Through Wednesday, I was working cleaning apartments with my sister. Then, come Thursday, my aunt felt ill. The chemicals are really bad for your health, and especially so with the amounts we ended up inhaling. Therefore, we took the day off. I spent the morning finally getting some real sleep and doing a minimal amount of homework. In the afternoon, my aunt felt better. Our uncle came up (he lives like, two minutes from my great aunt, where we were staying). He said we were going to the park to play tennis. Feeling absolutely unprepared, I dressed in my bright blue jeans, carefully arranged a beanie, and did my best not to show signs of disinterest. Anyways, we got to the park, and by that time it was drizzling. We’d gotten out of the car, walked about halfway to the courts, and it suddenly started pouring buckets. We quickly slid under a pavilion along with D and V, the two guys we were meeting up with. D is a good friend, younger then me by a year. He’s suddenly shot up taller and become very handsome. V is someone I’ve never know very well, but he’s a chill person, definitely someone I’d like to get to know better.

So, with the sudden change of weather, we decided to do something else. Our uncle drove us back to the house in order to change shoes (both me and my sister had worn something totally unsuited to rainy weather) while the guys went to go pick up T. We met up at Sweet Frog. I’ve never been there before, it’s a fabulous place. I tried, like, three flavors in my medium sized cup, along with gummy worms, and swedish fish. V directed two comments toward me, almost out of the blue. I think he fancies me, because when he said both comments, he looked at me for the reaction. First of all, he mentioned that he’d just noticed he was taller then me by a mere few inches. Secondly, he made a joke about the candy looking like ecra, (fish eggs, a common Russian delicacy). I smiled and laughed back on both accounts. After the fantastic ice cream, we went back to the Dyb’s house. We watched several episodes of the blacklist and went out for Pizza among the busy night life streets of Penn State.

Friday was so exciting, I almost had trouble sleeping! But then I did sleep, because I was actually exhausted, and realized that it was good for me. In the morning, I slept in late again. I got up around 11 and did some pointe because I realized that the floor at the retreat was wooden and that would make some things impossible to do. I then did some schoolwork. D’s mom came over and said that she was going over to get a food order from my mom, that they were meeting up halfway, and since I felt homesick I went with her. It was nice to see her, and I got a small meal at McDonalds out of it. I honestly like junk food asmuch as anything else. I don’t know how some people are so down on it. Maybe their afraid of developing diabetes, but personally I need the extra weight. We got back home, and I realized it was already pretty late. Therefore I packed as quickly as possible, discarding some things that I knew (or thought I knew) I wouldn’t need at the retreat. In this unfortunate bundling, I forgot to bring my soccer shorts and sneakers of any kind. That turned out to be a bad thing later on, but I won’t complain.

In the afternoon, we left for the Dyb’s house again. We came and I helped D and my uncle make cookies while everyone else prepared to leave. We rolled them in sugar and they turned out being really good, snickerdoodles are the best. After a while, V came, we packed our bags into, somehow stuffed ourselves into their tiny cars, prayed before leaving, and we were off. I convinced A to stop at Walmart in order to purchase some “necessities”. It was actually because I needed makeup xD I didn’t elaborate.

Him and the guys went to Sam’s Club instead to grab a giant pack of Redbull, everyone was downing it all weekend.

After a long and beautiful ride along the side of the mountain, it was gorgeouss, golden fields and the sun shining down on everything…  we turned onto a side road, and after seven minutes of driving hazardously along the side of the deep ravine and irregular road fencing (A owns a stickshift jetta) we reached our destination. We grabbed notebooks and pencils (provided courtesy of the small church) and eventually everyone headed into the conference room where we have our sessions in order to congregate ourselves into something like a schedule. Their youth leader came up and let everyone know what we would be doing that day. First off, we headed into the dining room for supper, since everyone was absolutely starved. The meals, although lacking in variety (which is understandable because of the amount of people the staff was cooking for) was nonetheless delicious.

I was unsure where to sit, but ‘Nessa (a friend I reconnect with every year we come) waved me over. After this, we went up to the cabin where everyone was sleeping (it’s like a big hotel partitioned into dorms) and I changed into more comfortable shoes. Then we came back to the RC (retreat center) and played some get-to-know-you games. The first was simple; we all stood in a big circle. Each person came out of the circle and stated their name and did a move that described themselves which everyone had to copy. It was a lot of fun, one girl got down and did a pushup, and these two guys did a neck lock and ruffled each other’s hair. When it was my turn to step out of line, I boldly proclaimed myself and did a beautiful fifth position. It was hilarious to watch the guys try to shuffle their feet into a submissive turnout. Most of the girls didn’t even try.

Anyways, I had a blast that evening, and Saturday, and Sunday. ‘Nessa says she caught Alex looking at me more then once during prayer, and I kept catching him looking at me from far across the room, but the biggest move he made toward conversation was a wave and nodded hi in my direction. I honestly don’t know about that boy. I feel like making a move on my own would be odd.

Some other people did, though, find a way to make relationships work. For instance, I had no problem seeing that K (a sweet hipster from syracuse, and now my style inspiration), was totally digging Vl. Last I texted, she said they were a possible thing. Overall, the weekend was a success. I received numerous compliments, including impressive flexibility, intimidating tallness, confidence, beauty, soccer and football playing/throwing skills, and on my apparent sweetness. Several people said I ought to be a model, and those who didn’t know me nicknamed me the ballerina chick. My favorite thing was the confidence and power I felt and expressed. Back home, I’m judged and conflicted, I’m lucky if someone hangs with me. Here, it felt like people felt privileged to get to be around me, were grateful if I chose them for a friend. They listen to my advice and correction carefully, and if they gossip about me behind my back, it’s nothing mean. I liked that feeling. I hope I can find it here, somehow, that confidence I feel when I’m wearing what I want; when I feel beautiful and complimented; when I can pick and choose my friends rather then practically having to beg for their attention.

-Lonely but Fabulous

N.C.A.

J’tme tres tiré

‘Ello Dears!

Apologies for the absence of existence.

It’s late, I’m exhausted, and it’s a funny thing that I have cramps because my life’s going well. Tums help, this is not intense enough for birth control. I’m here, darlings, working here at Penn State again. The job pays well, lasts me the entire summer. I know I ought to do some school, but I can’t dream up the enthusiasm for algebraic algorithms right now. I bet you my parents get a truancy paper in the mail next week. Say, twenty bucks? Forty?

Hah. Hand them over to me by Monday (; it’ll happen. Ah, me. We worked for a few days, but now we have off for the weekend. It’s ‘most Fridaay, and I plan to spend that hunting thrift shops for vintage Louis Vuitton. In the evening we’ll be off in the middle of the mountains, quite possibly seeing more then one crush and trying to make sense of my suitcase. I just packed the whole thing off to the laundry before the cabin thing. The halls we live in are fabulously stocked, but I’m worried that I won’t have everything I need. Hence the shopping beforehand tomorrow. I’ve got cash to blow, in any case. I found about fifteen quarters lying around the apartments we’ve been cleaning, along with some good-quality nail polishes and a decorative ship in a bottle. If I were a photographer, these would make for phenomenal photos, working here. But I don’t have the energy to constantly update the batteries in my old, old camera.

Honestly, I’m not ready for the stomach churning when seeing A or I, the slamming doors in excitement, the crispy bacon and soft bagels we chew on. Retreat is like conference, but tougher. It’s a move from spot to spot, a careful job to keep strong attention among fifty possibilities, it’s meeting old strangers who are very familiar. I have to dream it up, the ways to go beyond survival. To not just live in the moment, but to plan the moment. Imagine every possible scenario, (as well as some impossible ones), and prepare myself for inspection. For impression. It’s a memorial to me, us, teens, young and bold, finally living up to our full potential. Here to learn, to encounter, to judge, and to begin.

The weather doesn’t help. It’s projected to rain the whole weekend, which is absolutely fantastic, because I packed flip flops and sunny dresses.

I’m so sorry to be negative! :p I really am having a good time, I’m just too exhausted to write much.

Thanks so much for supporting me through the hard times!

Love chuu,

-Lonely but A.l.w.a.y.s Fabulous

Nicole NonChaire

Memoir!

Herro Darlings!

I’ve been implored by several lovely people to post my memoir on here. So here it, or part of it, is. (: Enjoy.

The problem with me is that I have multiple personalities. No, I haven’t been diagnosed by a specialist. It was my sister’s idea. Denya (I will probably always call her Denya, even though she hates it now) and I never agreed with each other. If she likes mayonnaise, I won’t go within ten feet of it. If I like blue, it’s her least favorite color. It was terrible when we were younger. Even though I was a year older, people thought we were twins because my mother sometimes made us wear matching dresses. I liked that, but wouldn’t ever admit to it, because Denya seemed to love it. Now, as for personality disorders, Denya and I constantly switched them. For a while, I was the horrible terror, and she was the sweet angel. We then switched, and I turned sweet, while she turned… shall we say… stubborn (among other things). It was really annoying. For instance, she would never turn off the light when we were going to bed. After a while, I would give up and get up and turn off the light. I always hated her for having that power over me, the final say, that forever-lasting endurance. “I can sleep with the light on. Suit yourself.” she would tell me. But I had the power over her when it came to social situations, and she knows it. Even nowadays, though we rarely wage our wars any more, she’s reluctant to introduce me to her friends because she’s afraid I’ll win them over with a smile and hug. I never wanted to take her friend from her, it just somehow happened. In retaliation, Dad sees her as the artist of the family, a role I used to have. Her paintings are hung up all around the house. In truth, though we are both more mature now, I don’t think we will ever stop competing with each other. Nor will we ever stop switching personalities.

I remember the last time it happened. When I was eleven, I fell into depression. It had to do with many things. I felt like the place we were living was too small, I wanted to go to a public middle school where I would have friends instead of continuing with home school. I felt like running away, made my plans, packed a bag, but I never actually went through with it. There were too many complications. That was a dark period, full of tears and fights with my Dad. It felt to me like Denya was perfectly happy, and they say that the best revenge is happiness. I still don’t remember how I got out of that depression, but I think it happened when Mom and Dad began to make plans for us to move when I was twelve. I got to constantly switch between the place on my uncle’s property to which Mom and Dad moved temporarily and my old house, which my Grandma and Great Grandpa were renting from us until we were able to sell it. That gave me a broader sense of freedom. I also started doing a cyber school, met some great people, went on a field trip or two, developed a crush on a boy. Basically, my life took off again.

I told my siblings stories on the car rides to and from home. I used to always tell stories. I still have many of my paper books from back home in Belleville. I made ten or fifteen little books, most of them filled with stories that I started but never finished. I feel sorry for all that wasted paper. My favorite toys were paper dolls. I somehow convinced my Mom to spend a few busy minutes of her day drawing, cutting and taping out a paper doll for me. I made all of her dresses, taking care with each one. Looking at them now, the outfits are plain and were quite obviously made by a five to nine year old. However, back then, they felt magical, something beautiful I’d made. The clip of scissors was probably my favorite sound. I loved to tell stories, and the paper dolls were often my medium. At night, Denya and I would steal into our closet with the dolls, whispering to each other as we shaped our blanket into little rooms for them. Mom didn’t approve of our staying up late.

My childhood felt very complicated to me at the time, and to cope, I spent lots of time in my backyard. When outside, I preferred to be alone. Sometimes I would sneak out early in the morning before breakfast and go sit on the rock outside of the garage. The robins would sing, and I would attempt to copy their beautiful whistles. Mourning turtledoves inside of our neighbor’s garage would also sing their sad songs. Ants crawled by my ledge, and I would talk to them. I was always talking to myself. Sometimes I did it in a British accent, others mumbling was in Russian, in the few words of Spanish I knew from Dora and Boots, or from the annoying, decidedly New “Yowk” accent of Dorris from Adventures in Odessey, our favorite radio show. If I could get it right, I realized, I could probably do any accent. I realized that the letter that changed the most between the languages was the R. When doing French, you start out with an eh. You then have to make a gurgling sound in the bottom of your throat and roll through it, finishing rather harshly. When doing British, you accent the T’s and D’s and ignore your R, the way my voice teacher told me to. In Russian, you have to roll your tongue in a way few Americans know how. Looking back at my writing, R is still my favorite letter. I always capitalized it unintentionally. I don’t have a favorite number.

In truth, I had always been majorly picky. I hated the feel of sand or anything else gritty; I wouldn’t eat my soup if there were boiled carrots in it. My aunt told me I was too thin because I didn’t eat enough, she had experienced my pickiness. I didn’t like her borsch, nor did I eat her mashed potatoes, they were too runny. Denya loved all foods, therefore gaining more favor with her. That was unusual, because usually I had the grownups attention, loving to sit with them at the table and listen to their conversation and gossip. It made me feel mature. However, spending time with my cousins was the best. They owned a huge trampoline, and their backyard led to beautiful woods and a private park. I hung out in those woods with Mark, younger then me, and a boy. Denya was best friends with Victoria. My aunt warned us to never go out into the woods, because she said we would get lost, but I told her that I could never get lost in the woods, or anywhere. Even when I was four or five, I could tell which church we were going to by which road we took. Halfway to the wrong church (American instead of Russian) had me screaming and running tears all over my favorite, beautiful golden dress. On the way back from vacation in North Carolina when we were nine, I took over for my Mom (helping Dad with directions) whenever she wanted to take a nap.

Long trips were spent miserably. I got headaches and felt like throwing up. I wanted to read (my favorite activity ever since I had learned how) but couldn’t because looking down for too long would trigger it. Benefits of this included getting free ginger ale and stopping whenever I needed fresh air. However, I recall, more often then once, choosing not to tell my parents how badly I felt. Thankfully it never resulted in a mess; there was always a bag ready for my deposits. I was a proud child; I hated to admit my faults, asking for forgiveness rarely, although in my remembrance I think that I always gave it freely. Too freely, it appears, I’m always too trusting of people. It always surprises me when they backstab and spread rumors.

I always felt uncomfortable around others because I knew I was different. In those days, our Dad liked us to wear skirts and dresses, Mom bought us all of our clothes. I usually saved my small allowance for new books (found for 25 cents at Yard Sales) or paper dolls (eight dollars was a lot of money in those days). I felt strange, set apart, having grown up in a very conservative church. My older cousins all looked so beautiful to me, so fashionable, so in. It was a funny feeling, to be envious of anybody. I still envy them, in many ways. However, I feel sometimes that I’ve gotten back at them for those feelings. Many are surprised to see me, me as I am now, at youth conferences whenever we visit each other. They remember me as a shy eleven year old, the gawky girl playing Indians and jumping around in their backyard. I’ve always liked to impress, to outdo, then and now.

On those days when we were especially lonely, Denya and I made ourselves an imaginary friend. She lived on the farm across the valley, a place we could see when we had swung to the highest points of our swing set. I liked to sing hymns on that swing set. I especially remember one spring day, it was around Easter. I sang every song I knew, and some twice. I closed my eyes and listened to the swing set rock up, down, in, out. It was a wonderful sound. Often our friend would ‘wave’ to us from the top of her father’s blue barn. Her brother was cute, older then us, and blonde. Denya and me dreamed about going over to her house and playing in the barn together, or having a tea party in her playhouse. I don’t remember what the girls’ name was. One time, Denya told me that today our family was going over to the girl’s house to play and have tea. Looking at each other, I decided that the lie had gone too far, but she wouldn’t admit to it. Three days later she finally did, and I think I cried. Perhaps both of us did.

One big difference between Denya and I was how we related to certain groups. She had a huge amount of trouble with our brothers, first P and then A, as they were born. If they walked into our room, she would yell at them to go out and slam the door after them. I couldn’t understand that about her. For me, boys were much simpler then girls to be friends with. They were always ready to share a joke or go defend our fort (the three-story tree house I had built out of old boards). Denya was also, unlike me, really good with babies and pets. I professed, and do to this day, to hate cats. They were nasty, selfish creatures, once you looked past that fluffy fur. But Denya didn’t care that it had gotten its foot run over by a car, she would pick up that cat, stroke it, and call it Twinkie Star.

I miss those simple days. They were days when I watched two raindrops racing down the windshield, and bet with my brother on which one would reach the bottom first. I could trust everybody, I was myself with everyone, encouraged to compete up front, instead of backstabbing. Deni and I would outdo each other, jump farther across the hay bales at James and Darla’s farm, and be a meaner Stepsister or a kinder Cinderella in the play we were performing for our parents. It was a good life, and sometimes, on days when there are no new books to read, I wish I could go back to it.

That’s it. (: Comment your thoughts.

-Lonely but Fabulous.

NicoleNonChaire