Italians

    I've recently decided that one of my favorite gang movies is A Bronx Tale with Robert De Niro and Chazz Palminteri. It seems that every Sunday afternoon this movie is playing on the telly and my plans for the day are pretty much non-existent at that point, because I know for the rest of the evening I'll be glued to the television screaming at 'C' to listen to his father, or stay away from Sonny. I don't know why I've suddenly found an interest in hard core Italians. Perhaps it's how they conduct themselves when they want to show they've got "heart", or perhaps is they way they strut in their leather jackets and black suits. What ever it is, I've established a new home for them in my heart, where they can come and watch the streets smoking their cigarettes with their fedoras when ever they please.

    But don't be mistaken with the Italian "guido" that seems to be running MTV now a days.

No, no, I'm talking about the real Italians that wore suits every where they went, and kept a baseball bat in corner incase someone got out of line. Not the over muscular, over tanned, gel crusted Italian that walks the streets of Jersey Shore. A Bronx boy, a streets smart kid, a true gangster that lived in a strictly Italian neighborhood. That's the kind of kid I was after.
    And yet, this obsession with the Italian only lasts the night, come Monday I'm back to the typical cookie cutter lover boy I want. With the straight A's and Ralph Lauren button down. Who knows. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm a fling kind of girl, that I can handle the incredibly forward action Italian boy once every blue moon. Maybe I just need to get out more, see the East Coast a little, and hell, maybe even eat some pasta. What ever the case, I need to figure it out soon cause I've been craving a little Italian blood, with possibly a side of fettuccine.

Unspoken Rules & Boys Sweaters

    I'm just assuming this, because I don't know, but I feel like there's some sort of unspoken rule about blogging more than once a day (or in this case night) that every social network has. Just like updating your facebook status or tweeting more - although tweeting could go either way- than once a day automatically makes you inferior to the rest of the world that seems to have more self control. But as so many before us have said, rules are meant to be broken, and whether this includes the unspoken rules I'm not entirely sure, and really don't care. I'm a rule breaker.
   This last week I ditched roughly 3 classes with a boy I've grown close too this summer. Which actually is much more dangerous and heart racing as you would think, considering my school this year has chosen to become incredibly over dramatic and take unnecessary lengths to make sure we all attend our scheduled classes. Which in turn has given me more motivation to not attend my classes and want to drop out of high school all together...  ANYWAYS; so this boy.
   Yes, this boy who may or may not be the reason for my frequent ditching (more likely not, and I'm not just saying that.. well maybe) has become a rather significant part of my life recently. We hung-out a lot in the summer, went on drives, shared secrets, blah, blah, blah, and suddenly I'm now wearing his Thrashers Magazine sweater to bed for the third night in a row.

   I barely even know that much about skating. But what I do know is that any chance I get I slip in this large, navy blue sweater and just think about him. Weird I know. Just the other day it seems like we drove together for the first time, and now I'm spending evenings in his basement having deep conversations about our parent's divorces and picking up Indian take out. Suddenly I'm resisting the urge to text him because I fear I'm being annoying or pushy where as before I just called him to talk without thinking twice.
   Now I'm wondering if I should put on more mascara before he picks me up where as before I'd answer the door in sweats. Regardless of what exactly I've been changing about my self, the fact of the matter is that I'm scared now. I'm scared to show my face for longer than 5 seconds because I'm self conscious. I'm scared I'm not capable of being myself when we're alone. I'm scared of what I'm changing into now that I know he likes me "that way". I'm scared I'm not smart enough to realize I like him "that way" too.. I've noticed now more than ever that things are much easier said than done. Which is really too bad; for a lot of reasons but I care too much about you to elaborate.
     Honestly, all I want to do is wear his sweater all the time, and be comfortable around his folks, and not have to worry about people thinking that we're making out and holding hands every 5 seconds. CAUSE I ASSURE YOU I'M NOT MATURE ENOUGH FOR THAT. Although I wouldn't mind trying. Bottom line, I just want this kid's sweater. I'll probably give it back to him so he can make it smell good again, but then it's mine.

Hello

    I fairly new at this and honestly a little scared. My best friend has a blog and would often show me some of her posts, from what I gathered it served as an electrical journal if you will, where you could post pictures, videos anything of real significance that people could read, blah, blah, blah. Whether it was entirely public or private, I wasn't completely sure, but still here I am writing my first post because quite frankly I'm incredibly bored/ secretly always wanted one.  Obviously I'm a little late for the "I have my own blog" trend because it seems that a substantial amount of my friend group has had a blog for quite some time. Which is not surprising in the least, I will admit I'm rather slow on the trending scale but nonetheless, here I am. And so begins my online journey of deep thoughts and secret feeling that I'm too scared to share with real people; so why not post them on the worldwide web? Amirite? Here we go.