TITLE: Online Confessions of a Teenager
AUTHOR: Dream Catcher
DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Sailor Moon. Duh!
A.N.: I'M BACK! I could give a hundred excuses right now for why I haven't posted anything new, but none of them will be good enough. Truly, I am sorry for the long…long…long wait. Hopefully, this chapter will, momentarily, appease you. Heh heh. Anyway, I have been brainstorming this story after reading all your wonderful reviews (Thank you, by the way), enough that I have the outlines to the next three or so chapters. Those of you who were upset at Andrew's playboy attitude, I think I found a solution, which, actually, helped me come up with the plot for this story. So THANK YOU bunches, KrysatalNeko, for complaining! Although, my solution is not what many of you are probably expecting. Andrew will NOT suddenly have a change of heart and realize what a stupid-ass he is. You will just have to wait until about Chapter Four to find out what I did. (laughs evilly)
Someone requested an age chart to keep characters straight, so here are the ages as well as the nicknames Serena gave them in her journal (Some character's may not have appeared yet.):
Serena (Bunny): 16
Darien (Blue Eyes/Roommate): 19
Andrew (Arcade Dude): 21
Mina (Venus): 17
Raye (Mars): 18
Lita (Jupiter): 16
Amy (Mercury): 16
Ilene (Mom)?
Ken (Dad)?
Sammy (Brat): about 11
Chad (No nickname yet): 19
Sorry I ranted so long. Now, on with the story!
CHAPTER TWO…
ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG
(where freedom of thought rulez)
Diary: Useless Information
User: GreenThumbs
4/17/04
8:19 PM eastern
I'm writing rather early tonight. I guess it's because my day was pretty boring, and at the risk of being even more bored, I'm trying to waste a few minutes on this.
Let's see…what happened today?
Not much.
Andrew didn't even bring over a new girl. In fact, he went over to Mina's house, or at least that's where he said he was going this afternoon. I'm assuming he's still over there, since he's not back yet. Or, maybe he stopped at Barbara's place on the way back here.
Who knows?
So, I went to work today, at that new restaurant. It was fairly busy, so tips were plentiful and surprisingly generous. And aside from the woman who thought my ass was good enough to pinch, the people were fairly pleasant to serve. No one complained about the service or food.
Well, except for this one guy who complained about how hot the coffee was after he spilled it on himself. Luckily, I wasn't his waiter. Poor, Raye, however, had to deal with the man's dour mood, but she took it all in stride. I could tell she wanted to speak her mind—or rather, yell her mind—but she bit her tongue—hard, I imagine.
My dad called today after I got home to see how I was doing. Or, rather, he called to see if I hadn't dropped out. He calls every week, asks how I'm doing, and then goes in the spiel about how rewarding it is to be an architect and how great it feels to have something you dreamed up created.
Of course, it was his dream that I became an architect, like him, and now he wants to "create" that dream. Never mind a doctor, or lawyer, or a gardener, which I have secretly thought would be right up my alley for several years now. But my father would never listen to me if I told him that I didn't want to design buildings, and that I, in fact, want to design lawns and gardens.
A part of me wants to tell him, and another part doesn't, arguing that if I just do as he wants he'll eventually shut up. But now that I think about it, I realize that he'll just continue to bug me. He'll never stop. Eventually, once I graduate, he'll call once a week to see how my job is going and analyze any blueprints I design.
It will never end.
This, more than anything, has me dreading my future career. How can I please my dad, and stop him from butting in on my life?
I can change my major to landscape design, disappoint him, but get him to stop putting in his two scents. Or, I can just live my life the way he wants, with him there every step of the way making my life miserable.
Dammit, I don't want to design houses or office buildings or the new, even bigger Wal-Mart! I want to be the landscaper people call in to redo the yard of the house they just had built by some guy who likes his job as an architect. I want some rich old lady to hire me to redo her garden, hopping the bright colorful flowers will take her mind off her newly deceased husband.
I came so close today to telling him off. But right when I was about to open my mouth and tell him how I felt, I saw him as he was on the day of my mother's funeral.
I've told you before about my mom's death, but I don't think I ever went into great detail about it, or the ovarian cancer that slowly ate away at her spirit. I never told you about the damn doctors, either, who took away that last bit of spirit, did I?
Sorry, I'm venting.
It was hard on both of us, my father and I, to watch my mom's long black hair thin every morning when she brushed it because of the chemotherapy. I would sit with her during her treatments, reading to her out of the newest Karen Robards novel, while her eyes were closed. Mom had always liked her romance books.
I wasn't with her when she died. I was at home, asleep, but Dad was there with her. We've never talked about it. My aunt, who had been there with my father when my mom passed on, had told me sadly, later, that Mom had sighed in her sleep and then had been gone.
Just like that. One sigh and she was gone forever.
At the funeral, dad had cried. I'd never seen a man cry outside the movies, so it had been a shock, more so than my mom's death, I have to say. In way, I had been ready for her death ever since the doctor explained the lump on her abdomen. But nothing had prepared me for Dad's weakness. For, where my mom had been his strength, her death had been his Achilles heel.
It was after that that he had started living again, only through me. Of course, this is only my amateur-high-school-psychology-class analysis of him.
Then again, you don't want to hear any of this, do you? I'm sure everyone's had enough of teen angst. No, you want to hear more gossip about Andrew and his girls. But I don't have any of my roomie's scandals to regal you with tonight. So, instead you have to suffer through my angst because it's all I have on my mind right now. And, hopefully, in writing this, I will get enough of it out of my system that I can sleep tonight.
The summery of me: I'm nineteen. I write in an online diary. And the loss of my mother allows my father run my life.
Can you say: loser?
Well, that's it for today.
Darien
Today's Useless Information: An eyelash lives for about 150 days before it falls out.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
RESPONSES TO ENTRY: GreenTumbs-4/17/04-8:19 PMeastern
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: NYsubwayMan
I have problems with my own family, man. Everyone does. I say tell your pops how you feel, and let him deal with it. Sorry about your mom.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: MuhBuTTitches
Join the circus. Now THAT will make your dad happy.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: CoRnInDeEye
You could always change you major without telling your dad. Sure, there would be a lot of lying involved, but I think you could pull it off.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: SpeaksMyMind
Do what you want to do in life. So what if your dad is mad at you for a while? He'll get over. Besides, landscaping isn't that different from architecture. You can still dream up something and get a sense of satisfaction out of seeing it come to life. Explain that to your dad. If he loves you so much that he continually consults you on your life, he's bound to get over whatever problems he has with your change in major once he realizes he could lose his son. Also, talk to him about your mom.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: IH8Dis
Loser.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG
(where freedom of thought rulez)
Diary: Online Confessions of a Teenager
User: JuneBunny
4/17/04
9:32 PM eastern
OK, World, I'm starting to regret this whole diary thing. I mean what if someone I know actually does read this! Absolutely no one knows of my crush on Arcade Dude. What if one of them discovers this site and this diary! I'd be doomed! Doomed I tell you!
I must think positively, like what are the chances my friends, sister, or Arcade Dude will find this site, let alone this little diary at the very back of all the others? I mean, the title isn't even memorable or eye catching. Heck, I'm not even giving real names; so even if someone I know does happen to read this, what are the chances they'd recognize the author as me? No worries, right?
Right?
Alright, time to change the subject to something more interesting like my day. OK, OK. So that isn't all that interesting, but it's better than my rambling.
So, anyway, I walked home from work today, as usual, and since today was Saturday, I had to spend eight hours at the bookstore with Ms. Tight-Ass (my boss) instead of the usual two that I spend at the bookstore after school on a weekday. She was in her usual I-have-a-pool-stick-shoved-up-my-butt mood today, and so by the time I headed home, I had a rather sour disposition.
And to top it all off, Nasty Magazine Guy, the man who sells newspapers and "other stuff" on the corner of the street yelled another crude comment my way when I passed by. This time I think is was "Nice ass," which is G-rated for him. Besides, it made me feel more confident about my butt, which I had been starting to get a little self-conscious about.
Maybe, I should invest in some more of those stretch jeans.
But when I arrived home, my feet dragging on the sidewalk, I saw that Arcade Dude's car was parked in front of out town house. Needless to say, my feet hadn't dragged the rest of the way to the front door. More like hovered six—no eight—inches above the ground.
Of course, my steps sort of faltered when I walked in the front door saw Venus and Arcade Dude snuggled together on the sofa. The little green monster of jealousy started to grow, but since Arcade Dude isn't mine, I'd had to beat that little leprechaun into submission.
We exchanged heys, and I plopped down in a sofa chair and feigned interest in the movie they were watching. But you can only see Mrs. Doubtfire so many times before the novelty wears off.
"Where's everybody?" I asked.
"Huh? Oh Mom's, at her usual poker night, and Dad's somewhere. I think he said he was going to some pet store to buy more fish. Brat is upstairs playing video games with a friend. Speaking of upstairs," she said, giving me pointed look, "why don't you scram?"
I ignored her question and leaned back in the chair. "I guess that makes me your chaperone while the parents are gone."
"We don't need a chaperone," Venus said, glaring.
"Sure you do. Don't you, Arcade Dude?"
Of course, when we really had this conversation, I called my sister's boyfriend by his real name, not Arcade Dude. The same goes for Brat, our little brother.
Without taking his eyes away from the television, Arcade Dude answered, "Yeah, sure."
Sure, I hadn't had his full attention, and I might as well have been asking him if he crapped purple. But the fact of the matter was, he agreed with me. Me!
Then again, it was because of me that he suffered from a swift punch to the arm from my slightly mad and pouty sister. After the punch, though, Arcade Dude started to pay a lot more attention to my sister, or rather, her mouth.
Just my luck it seems.
So, while they spent the next thirty minutes sucking face, I escaped to my/our bedroom where I spent my time until dinner reviewing what little I knew about Arcade Dude, which really wasn't much.
Let's see…
Known facts about Arcade Dude: He's twenty and a junior at the local college. He likes to wear his short blond hair spiked up with gel. He also wears contacts so glasses won't hide his green eyes.
Arcade dude loves: Rock, burgers, basketball, and my sister's belly ring. Oh, and my sister.
Arcade Dude hates: Classical music (which I like), reading (which I can't get enough of), tofu (I strongly agree with him there), and chicks with big thighs (which I have).
It sounds like I need to put down the books and start loosing weight, but I can read a book while jogging on a treadmill, can't I? I'll try it later.
When Mom got back from winning this weeks grocery money at poker, she invited Arcade Dude to stay for dinner. He agreed to stay. So, I was forced to watch him play footsy with Venus throughout dinner, which was depressing enough as it was, but then I had to listen to my sister regal us with plans for prom, with Arcade Dude as her date.
As you can guess, I hadn't been all that happy. Depressed, is a better fitting word.
But dinner did give me some insight in the Venus/Arcade Dude relationship. The big thing to notice was the way the two communicated, or didn't communicate, that is. Venus talked; Arcade Dude listened. Arcade Dude said something; Venus would pretend to listen.
If he was my boyfriend, I'd make sure we talked.
But as it is now, I can't get near him without stuttering or blushing. If he ever did ask me out, I'm sure I'd get over my shyness. I hope so, at least…
"So, how's school, Arcade Dude?" Dad asked, always wanting to know whether or not a potential future son-in-law would have enough in the bank to support his daughter.
That's Dad, always looking out for our well behalf.
"School's fine. I got a new roommate."
"Oh, what happened to your last one?" Mom wanted to know.
"He was kicked out for writing and selling other essays and midterm papers to other students."
"There are people really doing that at your school? I hope you didn't purchase any of those papers."
"No, ma'am, I didn't."
And for some reason, I had thought he was lying when he had said that, which, for some reason, had put me off. It wasn't necessarily that he got credit for something he didn't write, (which does grate against my do-it-yourself policy on life) but that he lied to my mom, which is a major sin in my book.
My mom is the most gullible person there is. If you told her that the chocolate in M&Ms was soy, she'd stock up on them because she'd think they were a healthy snack. Tell her that scientists have finally found a way to bring back the dinosaurs, and she'd start dino-proofing the house.
"Well, good for you. So who's your new roommate?"
"His name is, Roommate, and he's a freshman. He's studying to be an architect."
The roommate has a real name, of course, but Roommate is my rather clever (Don't you think? lol) pseudonym for Arcade Dude's roommate.
"He sounds like a nice young man. Why don't you bring him for dinner tomorrow night? You can make it to Sunday dinner, can't you?"
I know, I know. "Nice young man?" Well, that's what my mom said at dinner. I swear. She is a stay at home, ex-librarian, who talks as if she's living in the 1950's. But, its part of Mom's charm, and you can't help but love her for it, even if it is annoying at times.
But she does have a wild streak. She burned her bra at a protest during the '60's and even led a feminist group for a while before she married Dad, a MD, and quit her job at the library to raise us kids. Then there are the poker games she attends every week, which she usually comes home afterwards with a ton of cash and some woman's new watch.
But, you'd never know she had a wild side unless you lived with her.
"Yes, ma'am, I can make it tomorrow night. I'll see if he's busy. If not, I'll invite him to come along."
Dad and Arcade Dude then started to talk about college and Arcade Dude's plans to one day be and MD. This, of course, puts him on my dad's good side. Dad has even offered him a job at his practice when Arcade Dude graduates, which is about another five years from now, if you include the rest of grad school and medical school.
Dad, as you can see, likes to plan far into the future, which is why he and my mother hadn't gotten married until they had picked out a house, chosen names for at least four future offspring, whose college funds they started before they were even born.
There is still a fourth college fund in the bank for an unborn child. I think my siblings will agree with me when I say I hope it becomes a vacation fund. There is enough chaos in the house as it is. The last thing we need is another baby, which I will undoubtedly get stuck babysitting for when everyone else in the house finds something to do on his or her Friday nights. I'm sure they'd think: "Well, Bunny spends her Fridays at home anyway." While Venus would add: "Since she has no life."
At around nine o'clock, Arcade Dude decided it was time to leave. So, he and Venus went out on the front porch to "say their goodbyes." They really made out for half an hour. I didn't have to peek out the front window to confirm this assumption, either. Venus's smudged lipstick and tousled hair was all the proof I needed.
I can sort of understand their need to kiss, but on the front porch, with our parents just on the other side of the door, watching the evening news? With Dad's gun cabinet just a room away?
Anyway, I took a shower while they said goodbye, and after that, started on this. So, I guess I'm finished for tonight, since there really isn't anything left to say other than goodnight.
So goodnight, world.
Bunny
………………………………………………………………………………………………
RESPONSES TO ENTRY: JuneBunny-4/17/04-9:32 PMeastern
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: SeXyZbAbE
You know, that guy of yours doesn't seem like your type. No offence. But he seems like some kinda jock. From the way you sound, I can't picture you with a jock.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: LastBREATH
Lol. Your dad sounds like mine, with the whole planning ahead and stuff. If I weren't an only child, I'd almost wonder if you were my sister. Anywho, how do you plan to steal your sister's boy toy?
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Response: IH8Dis
Girl, I say stop drooling over your sister's man and find your own. One who doesn't suck up to your dad.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
A.N.: Hoped you liked it! I am very into this story. You wouldn't think so, with my lack of posting, but, really, I like it so much I was almost afraid of posting. I kinda wanted to keep it to myself, away from copycats, but I then realized how silly that was. I have all my faithful readers out there as spys! lol. So until next time…review and tell me what you think! he he HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Shout Outs:
SerenityChild16: Yup, this story will remain in diary format.
Tro-Tro: Thank you! If you find any more mistakes, feel free to point them out.
way2beme: LOL! You helped with in my planning of the plot of this story, by the way, not going to say how, but you'll see. Sorry that my update wasn't soon.
LunaScoobyGurl: Thank you!
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed. You guys are awesome.
