There a HUGE difference between thinking he's cute and being OBSESSED!

People can never seem to comprehend that, can they? You simply state to his sister, when she asks you, that you "guess he's cute" since you like "tall red-heads... and glasses", and, suddenly, you here from his girlfriend that the whole family thinks you're obsessed!
I mean, HELLO?! Am I missing something?

About 2 months ago, my mom's friend invited us over for dinner, with the three of us, her daughter, and her son. I bailed, because I had a rehearsal for the dinner theatre company I work for. So, my mom says, "He asked me, "Is Kate coming?" And he seemed really disappointed that you weren't."
So, like any girl, I was a little excited. Then, when his family came for dinner, he bailed. I took that as enough of a clue. Then, my mother says that, when she had to take him home from work, they talked about me. So, little bit of excitement again. Then, around comes school, and I feel invisible. No breed of social interaction, just a whole "forgetting about the cute girl whose mother I talked with about" thing. I'm still friendly, obviously, and knowing that nothing will ever happen, and moving on in my life, not giving a shit! My mom told me his exact future plans too, and they were, and I quote, to "get a descent job, to live a comfortable life". ...Ambitionless slacker, was the conclusion I came to. Plus, I knew enough trouble stuff about him to not want to go out with him anyways.
So, I share my anthropology with his new girlfriend. Nice girl, kind of cute, just moved here this year, and slowly becoming my sort of friend. Today, when the two of us and a mutual friend are talking she says, "His whole family thinks you have a creepy crush on him."
I laughed and said, "Oh my god, no!" But I could feel my ears turning red as I bit back the comment, "YOUR BOYFRIEND'S A FUCKING LOSER!"
Fun, right?

So, here's my advice for similar situations:
A) Don't talk to a guys sister/mother/relative about him; everything you say can and will be reported back to him.
B) Make sure it's very clear that you don't like him, even if he is reportedly "your type". Just makes for awkwardness later.
C) If you're friends with his girlfriend, never, NEVER talk about him or bring him up. If she brings him up, skillfully change the subject. It will save you from the most awkward of situations.
D)If it's in your capabilities, remember to be one step ahead of the game. Try to figure out what they'll pull before it happens. My smoothest moments in life occur whe I do this.
E) Be yourself. As much as I may sound like your mom, trust me, things will turn out better. As the awkwardness of her previous conceptions of me pass, this girl and I are finding a lot of things in common, an are starting to be friends.

Tomorrow, I'm going to submerse myself in my school work, find my Youth Group bible, and make some boiled raisin cookies. I'll tell you guys what those are some other time.

Until next time,
Kate

Europe...

Why must I have a deadly peanut allergy? I mean, I know that my immune system hates me and I have a snarky personality, but really? Is God punishing me or something?

See, last year, I had the opportunity to sign up for a trip to France and Belgium, to travel along the Western Front, where the Canadians before me had fought in the biggest excuse for all-out manslaughter ever WWI.

Cool, right? WRONG!

Not only was my history teacher, at the time, a complete ass, but he was also very willy-nilly on the whole eating prospect of it. So, guess who wouldn't go for safety precautions...me. The kid who wanted to go to Europe and travel all around, and collect a pin from every capital city, before the kids who went even had a preconceived notion of how wonderful that would be.

When people asked me why I wasn't going, I'd simply say, "I'd rather go with my mom before university than with my history teacher and a bunch of kids I don't even know in the middle of the school year."
I was lying, of course, but my friend Chad said he'd bring me back a pin...though I did have to ask him, and I said I'd pay him back. And, he said, "If I remember." Promising, huh?

It wasn't bothering me before they left, but, with all of my friends gone, and everyone checking up on the trip in the middle of classes, one gets a little envious. And, I wanted to go so badly.

Chad told me he was excited to see all the hot, skinny Parisian girls, to paraphrase. I pretended it didn't bother me, but it kind of does. He's always kicking my chair and saying mean things to me, like a 5-year-old with a bad crush, but then he turns around and is so sweet. Only now that I think about it, of course thinking of all the beautiful French girls bothers me, with everyone who ever used to call me fat and ugly finding even more reason to with each passing woman they see on their trip. It's not like I'm a harpy, for goodness sakes!

Well, enough of my complaining...Jeez, no wonder no one reads this! XD

Praying I make it,
Katelyn

Well, here goes nothing....

Since I'm no good at keeping a diary, but great at writing on the Internet, I'm going to start. I saw my friend, Jujub, on her blog, and thought I'd try it.
He he, I'm the random thought type. :)
So, I pretty much have a ridiculously busy and stressful life. I mean, since I don't have time for art club, my therapy of sorts, I am reduced to complaining out my life online. I figured somebody might find this amusing.

I don't know where to start, so maybe I'll tell you about my family a little. My mom has full custody over me and my bratty sister, Maiah; she has been divorced, twice. She's currently dating two guys at once while dealing with my asshole ex-step dad. Whenever she gets stressed, she's prone to taking it out on Maiah and I. My sister is a jerk, no arguing there, and she likes to think she's right about everything. "Little Miss Self-Righteous" is what she should be named, not "good mother".

I've always got my Shadow though; my little half-blind toy poodle. He thinks he's my baby. I'm not kidding, he acts like I'm the one who gave birth to him! He's my biggest comfort, though. He's 13 years old, and he's black and turning silver.

I'm harder working than most people my age, which is 16; hence the title of my blog. I'm training to be an opera singer, and, trust me, it's not easy. Opera isn't the stupid nonsense media cracks it up to be; it's an art, and you have to work hard. I work harder than Taylor Swift ever did and ever will, and she's famous for nothing that special. I don't want fame; I want a career doing what I love.

My mom puts a lot of pressure on me, whether she realizes it or not, and I don't work well under huge amounts of stress. When I found our my average in University Chemistry was a C+, my single conclusion was, "My mom's gonna kill me."

So, I went home and had an anxiety attack. Mix that with asthma and anaphylaxis, and you'd almost think you were having a reaction. It was my very first one, and I'm 16. My hair is even starting to fall out, and I have trouble sleeping. I'm always tired, and my chest is always heavy. Feels like a bit of a problem. I used to handle it well when I could go to art club and paint, and laugh, and be myself, but it won't work anymore. My voice lessons now overlap art club, and I'm forced to give it up on Mondays to listen to a soft spoken Middle Eastern man, who I have trouble understanding through his accent, teach me my technical requirements for my Royal Conservatory of Music exams. Ha ha, if you heard him speak, I wouldn't sound racist.

Well, for a first post, it's kind of long. But, the again, I don't normally blog, or read them, so I wouldn't really know.