September 15, 2013

Hello there, um, Journal. It's strange talking to an inanimate object, but writing this first line, I know why people have these. Being my first entry I suppose I should tell you a little bit about myself, but not too much should anyone -Alvin- steal you. My name, as I've written in the little slot at the front, is Simon Seville, and I was given you, er, this journal because according to my father, Dave, it'll help me to cope with all the stress in the world, which I should mention usually comes from my older brother, Alvin. He puts a lot on me, too much, so much that it would fill this whole journal without even making a dent in everything he's done. If I were to guess, Dave has stacks and stacks of these overflowing his room. Alvin's a bit of a troublemaker, but I believe he means well and he has proven to come through when things get serious. My younger brother, Theodore, he's the easier one, the innocent one. I can't think of anyone nicer than him… Except maybe Jeanette.

I've seen all these movies and sit-coms and I've read all these books that generalize every journal to be used for talking about your secret crush (usually the girl about the guy) and while that wasn't exactly the intention I had for this journal, I just can't help but to write about her. She has perfect dark chocolate brown fur -oh yeah, did I mention we were chipmunks? Yeah, we aren't human- and she has the same color of hair in a sort of treetop style over her head. I see her wearing a lot of purple, but I'm not complaining; it only makes her soft, violet eyes stand out more through her purple-rimmed glasses. Yup, she has beauty and brains and the voice and heart of an angel. She is every chipmunks dream, well, this chipmunk's anyway.

Oh, how rude of me. Even though you're only a stack of paper bound into a journal, I should explain how I look and what I'm like, you know, so you know what kind of problems you'll have to deal with. Compared to Jeanette I look like a joke, always wearing a blue hoodie over my own dark fur and my round, black-rimmed glasses always falling off my face. I'm smart with a great memory, I won't deny that, but I always get a little, oh what's the word? Dorky? I always seem to get a little dorky or shy or embarrassed around Jeanette. The only credibility I have towards my looks is my height. I'm the tallest out of the six of us that live together with Dave as his children.

There's me, my brothers, Alvin and Theodore, Jeanette, her older sister, Brittany, and her younger sister, Eleanor. To Dave, we're kids, but we are able to make a few select decisions to prove we're maturing. That's usually the time when Alvin finds a way to lose Dave's trust.

I don't live a normal life, but on the inside I feel nothing but normal; a normal, walked on nerd, despite being an international rock and pop star. My brothers and the chipettes have almost always been by my side, but that doesn't stop the idiot jocks over at the "cool table" from picking on me while I play chess by myself; the swirlies, the constant pranks and jokes that make me the bad center of attention, it can really get to you. There's no way I'd ever plan on bringing this journal to school; I get picked on enough thank you very much, but with so much to write about I fear there may be sleepless nights in the future as I write about my day, the story that comes from living in my life. A shame no one will ever see this.

With that said, I am writing all of this as I lay in the triple bunk bed waiting for Dave to tell the six of us who share a room together that it's time for lights out. I've become more aware of my surroundings and the many distractions around me. Alvin and Brittany's constant arguing, endless bickering about something small like their opinions on today's lunch and whether or not either of them could make it better. Sweet Theodore and sweeter Eleanor lay in their beds, and judging by the soft snoring, Theodore is asleep. Eleanor has so far stifled not one, but three yawns. I thought I saw Jeanette look my way a couple of moments ago, but I could just be hallucinating. Yup, just a normal life with a dash of fame… As a chipmunk.

"Okay, guys," Dave finally said. Writing what I hear verbatim is easy and keeps me occupied. The more I think about it, the more this journal seems more like a story. "Lights out." I believe in doing what's right; I follow the rules and I do my best not to cause any hassle. I followed Dave's order and turned off the little night light near the wall on my level of the bed, but when I couldn't find sleep, I came right back here to my journal. I can usually fall asleep right away, but tonight there's a different variable: my journal. I admit that I'm excited to have one now, it's like my own personal getaway, far from reality where I can reflect.

"Wow, Simon," Jeanette giggled and I jumped, "You've spent all day carrying that journal around, coddling it like a baby, and now you're in bed with it when we should be sleeping?" I'm surprised to hear that she's still awake, she was usually a rule-follower like myself. "What are you writing about?" If I could tell her the truth, I probably wouldn't need this journal in the first place, she'd be my journal, my listening ears. Even her ears were cute… I tried to conceal the redness that was no doubt being painted on my cheeks.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, hoping to divert the topic away from me and my new "obsession." I don't like being the center of attention, not alone anyway. Whenever we performed, my brothers, the chipettes and I always shared the stage. Don't get me wrong, being noticed is nice once in awhile, but being the only thing that someone pays attention to, that's a little scary to me. I heard her giggle again and as much as I love to hear it, I hope her cheerfulness doesn't wake the others. Her giggles always make my heart flutter, they always make me smile.

"No, and I'm guessing neither could you." She replied through the darkness. I wanted to hop over to her bunk bed on the other side of the room to get a visual of her beauty; that would give me weeks of nice dreams. It wouldn't be the first dream I've had of her. I'd tell you about it, but then again, should this journal ever get stolen, it'll get held against me for the rest of my life. I couldn't risk any of it. What if crawling into the same bed with her was taken the wrong way and thought to be way too forward? Heck, we aren't even dating! "So, what are you writing about?" She repeated. She's a very persistent chipette.

"Oh, just about my day." I didn't lie. I just didn't tell her the whole truth. Hopefully that's enough of an answer for her, but knowing her, it isn't.

"What about it?" She asked thoughtfully -I knew it- and to me, her sudden curiosity about my life sounded like she was flirting with me. Alas, I think that's just another side-effect of being in love. "Do I get to read it?" I realize that she'd be reading what she just said if I let her, and I'm pretty sure that anyone and everyone -including me- would think that would be creepy. Maybe one day I'll let her read through my journal. She'd discover that my first entry revolves around her, and I imagine us sharing a laugh over it. But until then, these inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, and stories are my own to write and read.

"Maybe someday." I laughed and even in the dark I noticed her smile. I swear, it could light up an entire football field. I've never been good with girls, and Jeanette is no different. I never know what to say to her. You know the feeling you get when the person (chipmunk) you like talks to you? The rapid increase in heartbeat, the sweaty palms, perhaps you get a small stutter when you talk. That's how I feel whenever I'm around her. She sighed through her yawn and by then even I was starting to feel my eyes get heavy.

"I'm going to sleep," She yawned, "Goodnight, Simon."

"Goodnight, Jeanette." I waved and listened to the shuffle of her slender body rolling over on her side. It's strange, like I have two split personalities. I often tell myself that that she's interested in me, that I should suck up my uneasiness and anxiety and just make my move, but I quickly alter the thought into how I'm not good enough for her. I'm really starting to get tired, but I don't want to drop my journal. I feel so free writing down what happens, giving my point of view. Maybe I'm getting clingy with it; that's never happened to me before, but I deem it necessary that even when I should be sleeping, I have to be writing it all down, document it so that it remains sort of a part of my history, although I can't see it being all that exciting other than all of the concerts I'll be performing at, all the knowledge to be learned out in the world. I can see this being a daily thing for me, writing the next installment of my life. All my problems, the good days and the bad, I mean, it's not exactly like anything can stop me.

Before putting my journal away for the night, I nearly had a heart attack. Lost in my own thoughts, I forgot I was in a room with five other chipmunks, and if Theodore hadn't viciously sneezed I would have fallen asleep thinking I was the last living thing on the planet.

"Are you okay, Theo?" I whispered once he was done with his mini tantrum.

"My stomach hurts." He whined, and if I hadn't heard the way he said it as opposed to the words he said, I'd have figured he just ate too much at dinner. But he sounded clogged, his nose I mean. He had to be coming down with something – the symptoms never lied. He had a stuffy nose, a sore tummy, and he was sneezing himself awake as if he had allergies to the air itself. My poor little brother; I promise I'll help take care of you tomorrow tomorrow. Thankfully it's the weekend so I won't be missing any school.

"Try to get some rest."

So this is the first entry of my first journal; it didn't end so happily, but it wasn't exactly a sad entry either. This was a nice day and hopefully there will be many like it to come. More days for me to talk about Jeanette and inform any possible future readers that may or may not exist about how well or how bad things go for me in life. Just an average nerd with a secret love that, although some would call a nerd also, is the most beautiful creature in the world to me.

I'd like to end this entry with two well said quotes:

"Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today." Mark twain, a brilliant man who's words came to me today as Dave handed me the journal. What wonders will I be able to write about the following year to come? Will I get my girl? Lose her to another guy who was willing to take the risk? Will my bullying stop? Will I get forever share the spotlight with Alvin, Theo and the chipettes? There are endless possibilities.

This second quote I'd read in a book the other day, and since then have been bewildered as to how I can live without following it. From Eleanor Roosevelt, I believe that one day I will be able live up to these expectations, to say what she has said.

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'"