12/30/09

Is my fourteen year old sister pregant? I heard eman ask her about TOM—a.k.a her period. If he comes, does that mean she’s not pregnant? She told him she couldn’t talk because she wasn’t alone. Of course I’d been listening to begin.

Well, she’s the stupid one then, having s3x with her boyfriend. And worse, unprotected s3x. god, I can’t even tell *my*  boyfriend straight out I’m on my perion—when I am. Which, if I may deviate, started out pretty regular, and now…it’s just not. But that’s beside the point. If I’m that uncomfortable, there’s no way we’re going to do something partly (at the moment) illegal and partly something we won’t name if we talk about later.

Scene one: he’s seventeen. She’s fourteen. They’re having *s3x*??

Scene two: he’s twenty-two. She’s seventeen. They  met online and both agree, they clicked nearly instantaneously.

The fourteen year old thinks it will work because he’s mexican and christian. Or catholic. I can never remember.

The twenty-two-year-old is determinedly working to make it work and his seventeen-year-old is just happy to have someone she’s so happy about and with.

As I think more, I wonder what it’s like for joe—what it *will* be like—because he’s dating someone his sister’s age. I wonder what it will be like between us when we *are* together. For the first time; on the way to Lincoln; when it’s normal.

For the first time, I feel like it doesn’t matter.

Thirty-five minutes. When we were only alotted ten. That really p!ssed my mom off, but I feel better. I love talking to my Joe and feeling like we have all night—even when I’m stealing time. Tonight, we talked about water, vesuvius, hand-writing, living left-handed and being phoney white-mexican. Somewhere in there, we also talked tech—SIM cards and getting back on verizon.

If I can get a(n authorized) verizon SIMcard, take out the net10 one and get back to verizon, I can get my boyfriend back into my life. First, though, I may as well get a job. I could use the cash—and the stability. Even though I’ll wind up sucking up Me-and-Joe time.

Oh well—a bad motto to have in life. But I’m mostly chilling till joe learns to drive. Then he’ll start to visit. This thought kinda makes me nervous though—I’ve become nervous of all-day dates, courtesy of stupid teen magazines which only make money because they’re supposed to be credible sources, but mostly written by personal experience. So I guess we’ll risk it? We already go—went, as it’s currently a past-tense action—on all-day dates on moba, just spending a whole day largely together, alone.

I just need fifteen dollars to kick start the old phone.

Fifteen american dollars.

For all I care, my sister could text it to sh!t—as long as I got my Saturdays. And at least six till I fall asleep during the week.

But I hate the most that, for courtesy’s sake, I have to shoot down his best maintain-contact schemes: refillable verizon card or family plan for us. All either ofus wants is to stick together. It’s  our histories that make our personalities and it’s our personalities that makes us amazing together.

I need a get-rich scheme. Just a thousand or two.

I’ll go dump a bunch of garbage blogs on that blog-for-cash site. Journals poetry and creative writing. Maybe get up a good think file that’ll keep pulling in views. Exponential money is what I need. I have words. Lots of words and lots of ways to arrange them. I just have to buckle down and get it done.