I went on a bike ride today.

It made me realize exactly how out-of-shape I am. I took a route that usually takes me about fifteen minutes to complete with a forty-pound bike (but hopefully I will be getting a new one for college…). Today, I used my mum’s bike, which weighs maybe half as much as mine. The fifteen-minute route took me at least twenty minutes. I finally had to get off the bike and push it up the last hill to my house, pushing my chubster dog in front of me.

Which brings me to my second point of the day. I love my dog.

I love her for her cuteness, and how warm she is on lonely nights when she cuddles with me, and the fact that she is very possessive and protective (but not obnoxiously so). But most of all, I love her for how she absolutely trusts me. When it’s time for a bath, she never wants one, but neither does she ever suspect that I’m going to get soap in her eyes or accidentally hurt her. When we’re going down a hill on a bike with her in the front basket, she leans out to feel the wind in her face. She knows I won’t crash.

I absolutely, unconditionally, love her.

But she is a chubster. She’s small for her breed, which means she should weigh between eight and eleven pounds. She weighs 13.6 pounds, or at least she did the last time I checked. Even when it’s on the front of a bike that only weighs twenty pounds, that extra thirteen pounds really makes things more challenging.

I suppose I probably shouldn’t complain. I’m small for my breed, too, and I’m rather a chubster myself. Hence the bike ride.

Was that just... a breakup?

Well, my romantic relationship with the lovely Brandon has ended. For the time being. And maybe 'the time being' means forever.

So, this afternoon I talked with my good friend. The first thing he said: "It's not you. It's me." From there, I quickly learned that he didn't know how he could make a relationship work. He doesn't have a steady job at the moment -- he's still working on that -- and he can't support himself, let alone a wife. Plus, you know, I still have four years of college to go through before I could even think about getting married.

I completely understand, of course. I don't know where I'm going to be in five years. My top choices are at my own book signing, on a movie set, or dancing background on Broadway, but at this point waitressing is just as likely.

We have decided to remain very good friends; after all, there's no law against a seventeen-year-old being friends with a twenty-four-year-old. Just against screwing him. Which I wasn't going to do, anyways. And, in the future, if something happens... well, we won't try to make it happen, but we won't try not to let it happen, either.

I'm just confused -- shouldn't I be more upset about this? I mean, yeah, I'm sad, but the only thing that really matters is that I'm not losing his friendship. He gave good reasons for not wanting to continue the romantic side of the relationship, reasons I have been thinking about quite a lot recently too, actually. I guess, as long as we're still talking and building a relationship, it really doesn't matter to me whether or not it's with the intention of getting married. I just want to be around him.

Lonely

I know it's dumb for me to be lonely right now. Really, I do. I fully understand the dumb-ness of that move. I have a boyfriend who loves me very much, and it makes no sense for me to be sad over not talking to him for four days.

But at the same time, I'm a teenage girl, and we get absurdly sad over that kind of thing. So yeah, it stings a bit.

This will do.

I'm sitting on my couch watching the women's gymnastics world championships, and listening to my mom speak with our houseguest. And I just came to the realization that I am really and truly happy. Right now, at least.

My stepdad isn't around. He's up north at a new job. So it's just my mom and me. I'm getting a sense of what it would have been like two years from now without her husband. I've developed very little emotionally in the last two years, but it's good now to get back to just being me and her.

School is going well, too. Suicide English (love that name) is actually kind of easy. And Accounting is getting less boring.

Aaaand. I just earned a 1 in my county solo/ensemble competition. I'm quite proud of this, as last time I did solo/ensemble I got a 3.

So yeah. I'm pretty good.

Oh wow. It's been a while since I posted. Sorry about that.

Well, the "home" and "family" situation has deteriorated further. Notice the quotes. Basically, my mom has admitted that yes, her husband ignores me, and yes, he is a lying jerkface. Well, she didn't actually call him a jerkface (that was my addition) but he did lie about what he would try to do. Namely, being my father. He hasn't tried. Jerkface.

On a writing level, things are good but a little frustrating. I'm currently writing a chapter in my Marauder fic where the characters attend a friend's funeral. Surprisingly, the funeral scene was easy. It's the scene after that's being troublesome.

I've been thinking lately about the whole concept of an afterlife. I mean, there's life, and there's the afterlife, but is there an inbetween... like people in comas. What's their consciousness like? And can other people be invited into that consciousness, maybe in the form of dreams? Yeah.... I think I'll write a story about this.

Oh! I just discovered 30 Seconds to Mars. They're a band, in case you don't know. I've listened to their album A Beautiful Lie, and it really flows beautifully. Almost like a classical piece -- it has different sections that all make sense on their own, but it all ties together into one cohesive unit.

Well, overall thumbs-up on life. Still no boyfriend, but hey. The summer's still young.

This is Olivia, signing off. For now.

DoctorWhoDoctorWhoDoctorWho... ohmygosh!

And on a happier note that doesn't include panic attacks, I just watched the season 5 preview for Doctor Who on iTunes. I want it, and I am seeing if my TV has BBC America.

My Brain

I went to the doctor's today to investigate the random adrenaline surges I've been having recently. I mean dizziness, elevated heart rate, the whole enchilada. I thought it might have something to do with my English teacher running into me with her car last October, but no. Very different.

It turns out I'm having panic attacks caused by an adjustment reaction with anxious moods.

Wonder what caused that.

At least I don't have brain damage, because everyone knows that highly speculative surgery costs a lot more than a couch and an excessively certified set of ears.