Starting Fresh

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay, I'm a teenager. Like, OFFICIALLY.
As far as gifts go, they were great. $25 to my favorite bookstore, $25 to spend on iTunes, and fish. That sounds so weird when I say it but it's true. Next time I'm at the store, I'm gonna get a couple of exotic goldfish to keep me company and add to the zenness in my room. I went to the city to see a movie (17 Again--it was surprisingly good) with a few friends. Alex gave me a Jacob poster (which is gonna replace my Edward poster hands down), Kensey gave me a sweet new journal and a cool quill pen (I filled up mine; I've already written eight pages in the new one) and Aaleah gave me spending money. We got Happy Bunny socks. I also got new shorts, a tank top, and sunglasses. From my neighbor, who is our adopted Grandma, basically, I got a Jameez garment bag and a thingie from the bank that has $25 on it to spend anywhere but looks like a credit card. I'm gonna leave it in there as long as possible and feel cool. My cousin works at the Bodyshop and gave me a case of make up and showed me how to put it on professionally. My aunt bought me three books: "The Complete Idiot's Guide on How to Write A Novel," "How To Write Killer Historic Mysteries," and a book with bookplate stickers to label all my books. This is awesome, because a) I'm trying to write a novel and b) people always borrow my books. Sometimes they give them back. All in all, awesome.
And, oh yeah, some recent news. I dumped Dylan today after school.
Okay, that sounds so harsh, put like that, but it really wasn't dramatic. I just decided it was time. I'm not a player or anything, I don't dump boys on a regular basis. Besides, neither of us was really into it. We don't really "click". Some people claim the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces. Dylan and I are puzzle pieces, too: two different ones. Some spaces don't connect, and some grind around the edges. He hasn't talked to me in like, a week. My friend Kensey (I didn't ask her to do this, by the way) lectured him on not coming to watch me at dance recital last night (which went good) and he replied, "I don't care." Which somewhat ticked me off.
I'm glad I did, though. When I really think about it, I AM too young to date. I am a teenager, but still young. I'm not even in high school, for God's sake! I'm just gonna hold off till I'm about fifteen, or until some guy catches my eye. Because why should I accept less than the very best? There's gotta be my Edward Cullen out there somewhere.
I'm not saying all seventh grade relationships are bad. My aforementioned friend Kensey has a 'boyfriend' who absolutely adores her. They are so cute together. They honestly like each other and hang out innocently. I see no problem with that.
I know you guys probably don't care about my pathetic love life, but I just wanted to put that down. Now I'm livin' the single life! (Actually, it seems weird to say that. Like I'm a forty-year-old woman who just pulled out of her third divorce. Which I'm not. But that just makes me more glad I've ended it.)
At dance recital, I dance in a tap group called "Five Guys Named Moe." The song is, basically, about five guys named Moe. Big Moe, Lil' Moe, Four-Eyed Mo, No' Moe, and Eat Moe. I am Four-Eyed Moe. Guess what? For Recital, Four-Eyed Moe wore contacts and, yep: forgot her glasses. I ended up borrowing the sound guy's glasses at the last minute. I couldn't see, but at least I had those vital specs.
When I was doing papers, one of the people I deliver papers to came up to me and gave me five bucks. "Just because," She said.
"No, it's okay!" I protested. She shook her head and thrust the blue bill at me.
"Just because," She repeated. I took it.
"Thank you very much," I said gratefully. It was one of those little gestures that just kinda made my day, a random act of kindness that boosted my spirits.
Now, I want YOU guys, those entire two people who read this, to do what she did. Perform a random act of kindess on a complete/almost complete stranger. Compliment a classmate you don't normally talk to. Help an old person across the street. Tip your waiters. I don't know.
Speaking of old guys, while I was on my paper route, I saw an old guy on a motorcycle. It bugged me, the same way forty-year-old moms wearing LuluLemon bug me. The same way old geezers driving convertibles bug me. You ever feel like that?
So, anyways, I'm starting fresh. New clean room, new age, almost new fish, no more dance, softball just starting. I might even start doing my math homework.