Can I Overcome?

Jan.1st 2005

Hm…Dear Diary, or Hey You?

I don’t exactly know how to address these types of things. It seems a little silly to me to start writing ‘Dear Diary’ or ‘Dear Journal’. Something an 8 year old would say.

Well, you might as well be wondering why I am all of a sudden writing in this. This, being you. Wait, No. You’re an inanimate object. You’re not a you. Well, I officially dub thee Bob, to clear things up. I feel a lot better about this.

Baaaack to what I was saying, yes. The reason I have begun to write my thought in this is because of my New Year’s Resolutions. I don’t expect this to last long. I’ll probably come across this next year while cleaning my room and wonder what in blazes I was thinking when I wrote in it.

Well now, it’s almost 11 PM, and me and Claire are going downtown tomorrow morning.

Goodnight, Bob.


Jan. 2nd 2005

Good afternoon, Bob. I take it you’re well?

Went to a lingerie store with Claire. I had to drag her in, she really hates those types of places. Well, I typically do, too, but I just took one look at a neon green garter and bustier and knew I had to go in. I spent most of the time trying to get Claire to loosen up and stop staring at the mannequins like they were elephants dressed as ballerinas. That girl has to express her femininity sometimes. Anyways, I was busy flinging thongs in various colors at her, when she picked up a large beige bra. It was, well, for a very large woman. She pushed the cups together and said quite loudly, “Y’know, I think this thing’s actually a hat. What’re they called? Those safari ones? Piss hats?” I turned beet red and took it from her hands, dropping it where it had come from, and hissed “Pith, Claire, pith hats.”

I love that girl to death, really, but she’s a bit of an idiot.

Jan. 3rd 2005

Wow. Bob, you must be proud of me. I’m actually keeping my resolution. Even though it’s a bore to do this, I must keep my resolution.

Right now the parents are at it again. No, not dancing nude, fighting. They do it quite regularly now. I just shut myself in my room when they do. I’ve learned that it’s much better, seeing as I won’t get dragged in somehow. They always manage to turn on me. I wish they’d just keep those types of things to themselves. Yell at me later.

Anyways. Nothing eventful happened today. I think I may take this as an opportunity to list things about myself.

xX name: Roxanne Olsen
xX age: 17
xX d.o.b.:31/10/1988
xX gender: Female.
xX nicknames: Rox, Roxxy
xX birthplace: Montreal, Quebec.
xX nationality: Canadian. Haha.
xX orientation: Straight. Mmhmm.
xX status: Single.
xX hair color: blonde, lot of black chunks.
xX hair style: Layered, choppy ends, about shoulder length.
xX eye color: Pale blue.
xX face shape && structure: Round, round, round. I have a big forehead, wide button nose, and a Reese Witherspoon chin.
xX body shape and structure: I’d rather not talk about it. I’m fat. Fat fat fat. I have rolls n my stomach, big thighs, and my arms jiggle a bit if I shake them. Yucky.
xX scars: On my forehead, from where I pulled a lamp onto myself when I was a baby, and many on my arms.

.The.Friends.List.

;;Claire-Dude, this girl rocks my socks. I’ve known her since grade 2, and like a fiiiine wine, she keeps getting better with age. Except when she gets old, she’s gonna be rotten and sour and yucky. But I’ll love her anyway.

;;Micheal- Omigosh. This guy is awesome. We met in grade 7 at lunch, when we both wanted the same ham sandwich. Haha. He won. But I let him. And, he’s mighty fine, if you get what I mean. Shmexy. Any boys in eyeliner are hot, mmkay?

;;Violet- Sweetheart. The most loving gal ever. Too bad she’s so quiet, she’d make a great rambunctious friend. She has a lot of potential, especially in her quick come-backs. Maybe she’ll be a writer for a TV show someday. Who knows.

;;DJ- My valentine. He’s so caring and sweet. I personally think he has a thing for me, but then again, I am very narcissistic so who really knows. I love this boy to death. It’s too bad not many girls talk to him, other than the ones in our group. He’s really an awesome guy.

;;Molly-Doll. This girl is like, a real-life doll. She’s so sweet, and yet she’s got such a wonderful bright personality. Just don’t get her mad. She’ll go crazy ninja on you. I’ve seen this girl verbally abuse these huge guys. And some cried. So watch your back, yo.

;;Fang- Haha, this guy is so sick. I heart him. He’s like, the ULTIMATE Goth friend, except he’s not all quiet and moody. He’s actually loud, and makes the funniest jokes EVER. And, he’s fun to cuddle and watch scary movies with. He screams…loudly.

;;Kelly- You wouldn’t think that I would be friends with her, but I am. She’s like a total opposite to most people I hang out with, but we all get along so well. Even though she wears expensive designer jeans, and wears mini skirts, I still love her.

;;Nick- Gorgeous. Too bad he’s gay. Just picture the prettiest emo boy you can imagine…that’s him. I bet he wins Prom King this year. Or…Prom Queen? Well, he’s really outgoing, and nice to everyone, so why not?

;; Tony- Next Tom Green. Not only is he an AMAZING skateboarder, he’s the funniest thing to walk the planet. He can usually be found somewhere skateboarding with his cohort, DJ. Can’t wait for his talk show.

;;Daniel- Aww. Dan’s so quiet. I know a lot of people pick on him and call him a nerd, but why? Because he’s super-intelligent? Because he likes to learn and read and do things like that? Well, yeah, that’s kinda nerdy, but Dan’s different. Dan is Dan, that’s all.

&& The Fam(ily)


xx Mom-Lily.
xx Dad- Mitch
xx Brother- Church(ill)

Mother- Annoys me. I love her and all, but she just contradicts herself in everything. Don’t smoke, don’t drink—and she does both. I hate that.

Father- Same. He’s worse than my mother. He nags me constantly. ‘Do chores, clean up after Church, blah blah blah.’ It’s not like the kid can’t do things himself, for God’s sake. He’s 13.

Brother- He’s the reason why people used to drown their babies. This kid bugs the snot out of me. Not only that, but he’s quite lazy. The kid doesn’t know how to fold his own clothes and put them away.

I dunno what else to write about tonight. The yelling has died down, maybe they’ve moved to the other end of the house?



Jan. 4th 2005

I went over to Moll’s house last night. We had spent the day at her house watching movies and doing holiday homework, of which there is tons. Later, DJ and Tony dropped in. They stayed until nearly 2 AM, when Moll’s dad started yelling at them to get out after they broke a dish whilst we were making ourselves a healthy snack of leftover pizza. True, it was technically my fault because I was tickling poor DJ, when he lost control and dropped his plate.

True to character, we left the dropped slice of pizza on the floor, totally abandoned. In the morning we found it gone, and Molly’s dog suspiciously with a beard of tomato sauce.

When I got home, Church had broken into my room (I hypothesize), gone into my trove of treasures, and taken the confetti bomb I forgot about on New Year’s Eve. He then set it off in my closet, which was newly cleaned as part of my New Year’s Resolutions.

Does it count as the resolution being broken?


Jan. 5th 2005


We all got a terrible shock early this morning. It seems that late last night, Aunt Georgia had a heart attack and died.

Just as we got up for school, Mom was in the kitchen, sitting quietly. Dad was nowhere to be found.

As much as I tried to tiptoe around her, she noticed me. Damn.

“Rox,” she said softly, looking up at me with those watery eyes she has. “Something happened last night.”

My heart dropped down past my knees at that point. The last time she said something like that was when the cat had died.

“Is it Granny?” I asked hoarsely, my eyes filling with tears of worry already. My grandmother is old, and she had fallen a few times in the past year or two.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew you would think of her first,” she said with almost a smile.

“What, then?” I asked, my throat burning in anticipation of the tears I knew would follow. By now Church ha woken up and had stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. He took a seat and listened quietly.

“Your aunt Georgia had a heart attack last night,” she said finally.

“Is she…did she...survive?” I managed to say. I was answered by the tiniest shake of her head.

All I can remember is crying for the next hour. Church was crying, too, worse than me.

That’s the weird thing. Death isn’t a big deal in our family. My dad’s a mortician and funeral director. Me and Church have seen countless dead bodies. But we’ve only actually been to one funeral of someone we knew, our grandfather. My mom doesn’t believe children should attend funeral parlors, and we were by then deemed old enough to attend the funeral.

That’s why Dad was gone. Georgia was his sister, closest sibling, and he had gone to help sort things out at Georgia’s house.

I went to my room to relax. All I did was fall asleep and cry quietly.

I think maybe Claire called me on my cell while I was asleep. I don’t feel like talking to her at all, or anyone else for that matter. School starts again tomorrow.



Jan. 6th 2005

At least I have the sympathy of my friends. I couldn’t help but cry when I told them.

“Aww, hon, I’m sorry,” was what I got from everyone. Nicky, Claire, Tony, DJ and Moll all gave me hugs. Even though I like getting hugs and all, I don’t like getting them because my aunt died, you know? It just made me feel even worse.

I didn’t really know what to do about my appearance. Wear makeup, or not? If I did, when I would start crying, it would go all leaky and drip down my face like I was melting. If I didn’t, the dark shadows beneath my eyes would make me look like some evil zombie. Oh, God, even silly things like the word Zombie make me cry. I can’t imagine my aunt all green and rotting, walking around with her mouth hanging open.

And what about my clothes? Wear all black and hide in the corner, or normal weird tee shirts and jeans? I feel like I have to give her some respect in my appearance, but I don’t ant to go into full Goth mode, either. (Sorry Fang.) Finally I decided on a plain black tee shirt and less-tight-than-normal jeans.

The wake is tomorrow; funeral Wednesday. It’s been decided without my consent (though it wasn’t really needed) that Church and I will not be going to the wake, but will be attending the funeral.

Oh God, the funeral. I normally love ‘em, but when it’s a member of your family, and an Italian funeral on top of that, the allure is great but the outcome is disastrous.

I have this strange obsession with death. I just think it’s the most fascinating aspect of life. I used to spend hours looking through catalogues and thinking: How would I want my funeral? Of course, I now know practically everything there is to know about planning one’s funeral. I decided a long time ago that I would like to be embalmed, and buried but in a nice sealed casket. Maybe one with my face painted on it, so even when they dig me up and I’m just ashes, they’ll know who I am.

My eyes hurt more than usual. Talk to you tomorrow.

Jan. 7th 2005


School was rotten. I just kept thinking about the wake tonight. I think that wakes are the most bizarre tradition. I know it’s al about paying last respects, but what’s with actually looking at the body? That would just make it harder for me. A relative just lying eerily still in a box that will ultimately be buried in a field of other people in boxes in the ground. I question the inventor of this practice’s philosophy.

Micheal convinced me to go to his house after school. Not that I complained, but it did take a little bit more prodding than usual. I would usually decline politely at first, then eagerly accept his insistence. How sad is that? Oh well. I heart him.

We were walking together when it started to snow. Micheal looked adorable in his black parka with the fake fur on the hood, and then with his little black beanie. (Can you tell I’m obsessed?) I said randomly that walking in the snow is the most romantic thing EVER to me. He just gave a little ‘Oh, really?’ and smirked. He’s probably plotting something.

Well, when we got to his house, we usually put on some music and do whatever comes to mind. My Chemical Romance was the soundtrack of the day, and after we joked around, we started to hardcore dance, which then formed a two-person mosh pit. My hair got all messed up, and when we were catching our breath he was nice enough to fix it for me. The doll.

I really want to make a move, but I’m so shy when it comes to these kinds of things. Especially because he’s my best male friend, and he knows absolutely everything about me. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if I go in to kiss him and he just gives me the ‘What in blue blazes?’ look?

I really hate being indecisive. Guys are right about women being unable to make decisions.

Gah! Tomorrow is the funeral. Not ready for it at all. What will I say to all of the relatives? What will I say to my dad?

It’s going to be a real beautiful disaster. And I just realized the whole thing will be in Italian, of which I don’t speak a lick.

Just perfect. I’m going to have to sit through a whole service in a language I don’t understand, surrounded by people I don’t even know. And I’m not even allowed to go to the meal thingy afterwards, which means I have to miss out on the fabulous Italian food. Damn.


Jan. 8th 2005

What a rough day. I had to wake up early to straighten my hair (I slept with it wet and it got all weird looking, but usually it’s pin straight) and to put on my makeup. I didn’t do anything fancy, seeing as it was a funeral, but I did want to look nice in front of my family…and all of those strangers. I decided on a nice black dress polo, and black slacks, with white sneakers. Nothing fancy, but I wouldn’t look like a bum.

The service was nerve-wracking. We were here pretty early, and I just watched the door like a hawk. I knew what I was waiting for. The entrance of the casket. When it happened, everyone stood. It had only taken about 20 minutes for the whole big church to get filled up. After a slow march to the front of the church, the casket was lowered onto a stand, and the pallbearers were seated. Just seeing the casket there, knowing my aunt was inside, made me begin to cry. Oh, not to mention the sound of other people crying. That gets to me every time.

Actually, the service was half English, half Italian. I wasn’t totally bored. If I was, that’d be a bad combo. Sobbing and boredom. Is that even possible? Wouldn’t you be all focused on whatever you’re sobbing for? Yeah, that’s it.

Anyway, after like 2 hours of me and Church crying, the service ended. We never get to go see interments, though. I couldn’t see any of my relatives during the service, because they were up in the front and we were in the back because it’s too sad to sit in the front. So. After the casket left the church, EVERYONE was getting up out of their seats to give their condolences to the family. We didn’t get a chance to, because there were just TOO many people. So we just left. My parents went to the interment, while Church and I walked home, seeing as our house is blocks away.

So once we got home, I went to wash my face. Church just went to his room, probably to sleep. I went back into the living room, and turned on Much Music. After watching a few videos, I was getting bored. But then, something totally surprising happened.

‘Helena’ by My Chemical Romance came on. Normally, I would be a bit more interested than usual because it’s a band I actually like, but I was almost glued to the screen. The whole video is funeral-themed, which struck me as really significant to my whole situation.

‘So Long And Goodnight’ is what the lead singer repeats over and over at the end of the song, when he puts the casket into the hearse, and take one last look at it through the window before turning away. I found myself crying by the time the video ended.

I felt terrible. I felt bad because I didn’t know Auntie Georgia like I should have, I felt bad because I didn’t cry as much as should have, that I wasted my time with her. But what felt worst of all was that I couldn’t say goodbye.


I’m so tired right now. I’m going to bed.


Jan. 9th 2005

I had almost forgotten in all of my selfish sorrow how good it is to have friends.

I was kinda moody and weepy in school, but Tony and DJ were trying their hardest to get me to laugh. I’m surprised that they didn’t get expelled. They ran around the cafeteria at break in Barbie pajamas and wigs. I bet Micheal put them up to it; they’re not clever enough to think of thing like that by themselves.

But it was funny when Nick wanted to join them just to wear the wig.

In Math, Kelly sent me a note saying: ‘Do you think that Fang is a badger? Yes or No’. Of course I had to laugh at that. I passed it on to Fang and he checked off yes. I could tell it made him mad, but he wanted to see me smile.

I love my friends.

Micheal, the doll, walked me home. We each had an ear bud and we took turns choosing songs on my iPod. It’s fun. We were moshing on the street. Every time we’re together, we mosh. I love it.

But when we got to my door, I was really expecting a kiss on the cheek or something, but nope. Nothing. He just gave me the usual hug and left.

I hate when people do that. They act one way and do something that totally sets you off.

When I walked in the house, the phone was practically ringing off the hook. It tends to do that when you’re in a bad mood, no? Any ways, I ran to go and pick it up.

I wonder what would have happened if I had waited for someone else to get it, or ignored it completely.