Something happens and I'm head over heels.

I bought candles yesterday. My room smells like Pier 1. I like it.

Visiting Chicago was a gas. I met a puppy. Well, Matt's puppy. Her name is Ruby, and all I can think of whenever they call her is the Kaiser Cheifs song. I think they named her after the kaiser Cheifs song. I can't be 100% certain though. She's a sweet thing, and seems to like me. She picks up on my chill vibes, and likes to cuddle. It's kind of funny how dogs can be smart and stupid all at the same time.

I decided I couldn't live with someone I'm dating. I know I will have to get over that shit when I get married, but as it stands right now, I like having my space. Maybe that's why long distance relationships aren't such a big problem for me. I like having an escape hatch. It also makes me appreciate the time I spend with that person so much more, because we're not bickering about actual stupid shit. (not to be confused with kind of stupid shit, like how tall Macaulay Culkin is)

I've never lived in the same city as someone I've dated before. Okay, that's a lie, I did once, and it was a disaster. I was in high school, and the relationship was the byproduct of a blind date. It lasted two weeks, and culminated with my dumping him on the night of his prom. I want to say it was in the limo, in front of White Castle. That may be dramatic embellishment on my part though, even though I can't say for sure. He wouldn't give me my space. But, to be fair to him, I never said give me some space. But to be fair to me, I was 17 and didn't know what I was doing or how to articulate my feelings. So it doesn't count right?

I still want a (more or less) traditional wedding. It hasn't come up lately, so I can't really gauge my progress.

Damn being a girl is hard work.

...it feels good to be a gangster.

Coming soon: more thoughts on sex.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate

I'm back from Mississippi, and I am proud to say nobody died.

I also got to see Memphis the hard way. On Saturday, we missed our train out of MS, which I had nothing to do with. (I realize it's catty, petty, and childish to say that, but its true.) I blame the fatty, fried and relatively instantaneous food pit stop. As we saw the train pull away, we plan to head it off at the next stop. Three hours, one daylight savings related freakout, one pill, one massive nicotine, several involuntary face twitches on the right side of my face, and one state line later, I am gazing at the lights of downtown Memphis, Tennessee through a train window, sipping a delicious vodka tonic.

I decided I'd like to go back to TN under different circumstances. I'd like to see what Paul Simon saw in Graceland. I want to take in downtown Memphis from outside the car.

In other news, I'm manning the turntables once again. I know it will be a beautiful reunion. I can't hardly wait.

This just in: four months later, we're talking forever.

From him, 2:46 AM: so yeah it'd be ever so lovely to be with you for as long as you'll have me

I can't help but think about sex. Not just in the horny early 20s way, but in the sexual satisfaction psychology sector too. If one were to enjoy being restrained or even knocked around, I'm curious as to what it would implicate about their inner issues, why that would trigger pleasure for them. Part of me has to learn that not everything has a motive. 98% of things do, though. This is why anarchy does not agree with me.

I want to be disinherited from my shyness that is criminally vulgar.

Furthermore, I need to start making peace with the fact that I want to start collecting MA and MFA degrees. I can think of three that I want already, but I have a phobia of the word thesis.

Haze of Love

Jesus Christ. I think I got spoiled at work. I think its the PMS, but the temper and the attitude I have to actively work to check lately. Lady came in today wanting to know what her assignment was. I gritted my teeth, and hoped she thought it was a smile. She lumbered off to ask her teacher what she was supposed to be doing (who'da thunk that the TEACHER would know what she needs to do?)She came back. She's supposed to do 4-5 pages on "a debatable topic". Obviously, this will require research with the aid of a computer. Did I mention she's COMPLETELY FUCKING COMPUTER ILLITERATE? Like, I had to show her how to log in, how to get to the internet, where to type the web address, why she couldn't click on the sponsored links on Google...this paper's due Friday. She, of course, is a one finger hunt and pecker. She should have started typing this paper last Tuesday.

I officially advocate the fuck out of placement tests for anything lower than master's level courses.

But other than that, my life has been lovely. I like Barbies and crossword puzzles and tea and blankets and CSI and America's Next Top Model in marathon form (like there is any other!).

I dyed my hair with the idea that eventually it will lighten, redden and do its thing. I think I'm going back to braids.

I need to write more.

I need to finish The Watchmen.

Also, I still have no idea what to give up for lent. ideally something to make me thin. Maybe I will give up not smoking.

There you are, wild and free

So, I (kinda) put myself out of my misery and took a pregnancy test. Good news: I dropped clean on that shit.

Downside: I still have this mystery rash on my torso mostly, and it itches sometimes, but things didn't start itching until this week. There's a kind of rough layer of skin on my lips too. My hands are starting to look weird too. My skin on my face is not looking the way it usually does, and I feel like I just look toxic overall. I also might have a UTI. Great. I see the doctor on Saturday. I can just see it now:

SCENE: INT. Doctor's office exam room. Day. Not that it matters since exam rooms have no windows. ENTER DR. L.

Dr. L (not my regular doctor, but he is the other doctor my regular doctor practices with): what brings you in today?

Me: this occasionally itchy rash, UTI symptoms, and an overall diseased look.

Dr. L: I see. We're going to need backup, a dermatologist, and a cigarette. (into walkie talkie) Breaker, breaker, 1-9, this is Dr. Manhattan to the front, do you read me, over?

Walkie talkie: (indeciperable gibberish)

Dr. L: go ahead and get the skin man, a cancer stick, and a slice of your mom's fantastic pie. We're also going to need all the backup we can get.

Me: does the cigarette do something for the rash?

Dr. L: no, but judging from the look of things, we could be here awhile.

Me: oh (starts nicotine lust)

(ENTER FABULOUS BACKUP SINGERS, in tight magenta sequinned dresses. They should be hefty black women, like Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls, but far fatter. There are three of them. All parts delivered by them are sung.)

Fabulous backup singers: be here awhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile!

Me: Can I at least have some pie?

Dr. L: may as well, looks as if you're going to die anyway.

Fabulous backup singers: you're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!! (jazz hands)

END SCENE.

But on the upside, the sore throat and overall shittiness is going away.

And...still in love. Still mentally going places I have no business going. Like entertaining the notion of having a family. What is wrong with me? All I do is judge people who start that kind of talk three months into a relationship. I had issues with other people dropping the l bomb as early as we did. And now all I can see is a yard full of kids with crazy curly hair and caramel skin. Jesus Christ, stop me.

Even if you counted the 4 months we were together prior to 2008, that still only puts us at ~7 months. Which is still kind of early for that kind of talk.

Dammit, love is a cynic's kryptonite.

And now, to remember what kind of person I was like before I became a total sellout, I'm reading The Watchmen. I like it. It's dark, and reminiscent of the noir Hammett novels I used to read and adore.

I want snacks.

It's cold.

Excess ain't rebellion. I'm drinking what they're selling.

Turns out I am paranoid without even partaking in herbal activities.

I'm fine. I just like to give myself a good scare, just to see if I can still be scared.

Good news: I can.

The internet/server ate my last two (possibly three) attempts at publicly expressing myself. Let's go for the gold son!

Apparently "Sex on Fire" won a Grammy. You go, Kings of Leon!

When money talks, I hate to listen, but lately it's been screaming in my ear.

I wish that people who are in charge of doling out the jobs were cool. It's just like, judge me on how qualified I am, and not how many holes I have in my head or the colors I've added to my skin and hair. I need a job that pays well and does not mind a few extra holes or visible tattoos.

I love this record, baby, but I can't see straight anymore.

As long as the soda cans are red, white, and blue ones!

I'm excited for the weekend. To the point where new, cute underwear was purchased. Well underwear was one part excitement, two parts necessity, and one part lazy. I need to laundry.

He is just that into me.

I swear I'm the marrying kind.

And none for Gretchen Wieners, bye!

hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ

I am in a panic. Not even on the streets of London.

Right now I need to clear my head and contact a health care professional. I'm going to talk to my friend who is a nurse this afternoon, and I really need to shake this only slightly logical paranoia. This post is about clearing my head.

My body is doing weird things....well, let me rephrase. I can't tell if my body really is doing weird things or if its only acting weird because I'm acting weird because I only think its doing weird things. The words make sense in that order, I promise.

In the last couple of months, I have become hyper aware of my body almost to the point of (okay, definitely to the point of) paranoia.Things like "I'm getting fatter, is that winter hibernation weight or is that pregnancy weight?", "my period was a day late, oh god what does that mean?", "my period tapered off really abruptly, what the French toast does that indicate?" are all followed by or punctuated with "ohmigodohmigodohmigod". Now as I type, these thoughts look silly in visual words. I mean, I have never been dumb about a sexual encounter. But you know, things happen. Condoms break, rip, slip, tear. I am 95-7% sure that a mishap didn't occur, but you know, what if? Moral of the story, I really should get on the pill and eliminate this shit for good.

There, I said it. Moving on.

I would like to peace the fuck out of Kalamazoo, Michigan. My lease is up at the end of April and I would like to move back to Chicago (I love the city tonight, I love the city always). There are jobs, its just a matter of moving costs. I have found decently priced apartments in okay neighborhoods, and I could always room with someone from craigslist or something if it came to it. Well, "decently priced" can run anywhere from 5-600 for a studio if I am lucky. Good thing I am not claustrophobic. Some are cheaper, but require people skills which, now that I think about it, would not be so bad. I am always looking to expand my social network, especially in cities where I have a very small circle of friends who live there. I feel like there's a catch-22: living spaces require money, aka a job. Jobs require a place to live. And the cycle begins anew. I can't find my pants, film at 11. Stay tuned.

I have chosen to accept a mission. Yes, that mission.

It's pretty funny that for the second time ever, I have a valentine on valentines day. Also funny: I've either spent valentine's day with Matt or nobody at all. Ideally, this v-day would be spent looking at sharks at Shedd Aquarium.

I'm happy and I'm writing. we'll see where this goes.

okay, I'm done brain vomiting.

life may sometimes be sad, but its always beautiful

Yeah, everything's back to normal now. I have my job back. That was a hellish and unnecessarily dumb five days.

More sap from my super sweet boyfriend:

12:29 AM: i miss seeing the top of your head on my chest
12:31 AM: i miss your complete shock at all the noises my intestines can make


1:14 AM you know what i really miss?
1:15 AM i miss the fact that even when i chat with you and use all my stories up on here, if i see you the next day im so excited to talk to you, even when its totally about nothing

... but he doesn't believe in marriage in the conventional sense, he says.

New insanely impossible mission.

But do I choose to accept it?

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you, I'm out!

I've been canned. Sacked. Pink slipped.

FUCK MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE.

Tonight and this weekend are not going to be pretty. I suspect there will be crying and drunkeness and hardcore feeding involved with the money that was supposed to be for bills.

I'm probably applying for unemployment and letting the government take care of me for awhile.

Kinda funny how I didn't get fucked by the god-awful economy until the VERY end of Bush's term.

And by funny I mean shitty as fuck and I want to harm somebody.

But my hyperactive sense of entitlement as a twentysomething American female tells me that means I don't have to play nice for the time being. People that take certain kinds of energy to deal with are coming to visit this weekend. I make no promises that I am playing nice. If anybody even looks at me funny, I swear I'm going to unleash a world of fury they didn't even know I had. Jackie, crazy twat Clara, Richard, the homeless bums that panhandle, anybody. I'm not planning to be mean, but I'm just saying, if things are pissing me off, you'll know. Full blown Diva mode has been engaged.

So much for SXSW 2009 magical road trips. So much for spring break.

I started kissing the nicotine smokestack yesterday.

But on the upside, Theresa and I are job hunting tomorrow.

I would love it if the snow stopped, thanks.

There's always the titty bar.

I think it's 80s night. Somewhere else, not at the titty bar. That would be kinda epic though.

Two hours left at this job and I don't care who I offend.

ello ello ello vee eee

Courtesy of Matt, and the reason I am tired this morning:

1:43 AM: when i take time to think about it, i'm liking the idea of growing old with you. although im hesitant to say so, cause it sounds like a total creeper line

when you are broke, the money-problems ratio is inversely proportionate, regardless of what Puff Daddy, Mase, and Notorious BIG would have you think

Good grace, that was a long ass post title.

It's the truth. I've been cut seven hours at work, and even though that doesn't sound like a lot, its my sole source of income for the time being. Fuck part-time jobs.

So I've been looking into leaving. My lease is up in April, and armed with craigslist and not much else (not even a resume, shitty as that is), I've been looking for a job and a place to live. Going home sounds like a stupid option and I'd rather live in a cheeseburger with no money for groceries. But it's still an option, a viable one at that.

I am fully aware of how ridiculous that sounded.

Also fuck not living in a college town. I have gotten spoiled with my less than $500 rents and my downstairs coffeeshops. As I search for places to live that fit my budget, I start thinking I'll apply for loans and just live until I die. Or run out of money. Whichever comes first.

I keep using google maps to ascertain how far apartments are from Matt. My friends think its cute. I think it's creepy.

I found two foxy little places in the $500 range.

Suddenly I am a little more optimistic.

But still chunky. Also trying very hard not to make out with the nicotine smokestack.

Just discovered I am not broke as I thought. Still on a tight budget, but not as tight as previously thought. Thanks, God.

I consider myself a Christian, but I still have sympathy for the devil.

I should go to the movies. I still have not seen The Spirit, and that depresses me greatly.

Also depressing:

Graduate Student Academic Year Cost of Attendance 2008-2009

Tuition and Fees (full-time)

$15,992
Books and Supplies

$1,400
Room and Board

$12,000
Personal Expenses

$3,600
Transportation

$1,800

Total


$34,792

Yeah.

Let the distance bring us together. (I'm alright in bed, but I'm better with a pen)

There need to be more songs about the new year.

Can you keep a secret? I'm in love.

Can you keep another? I need medication when I date someone. I become needy and insecure and paranoid.

For example: this past week, Matt has seemed really distant. In the back of my mind, I know he's probably got to haul ass at work (a direct result of spending five days of the previous week with me) and he has a life and shit outside of me, but in my defense, I am spoiled. Just listen. Before I went to go see him in Chicago (this last time right before new year's), we would talk all the time. Text, facebook, aim, whatever. Now all of a sudden I get a text or two a day. In my head I know its probably because he's tired, but in the back somewhere I am scared that he's not saying a lot because he's tired of me. I'm always scared that people are tired of me. I've also gained five pounds since we started dating, and nobody wants to date a fatty. Lucky for me, I'm pretty. But I mean, if he were to break up with me, I would feel dumb, like real real real dumb because I let this happen. I let him back in. I let myself fall in love. The terror of that pain is enough.

I feel horrible for entertaining thses thoughts, but they just come at me and I can't stop them.

Its kind of like deja vu, but instead of his feelings for Heather, I'm scared of my own imperfection. Isn't that the very definition of insecurity? How do i fix that? I know I'll never be perfect.

But that being said, that's my primary complaint: we don't talk enough. For the first time ever, I feel like I'm sexy and not like people are talking to me just because they want to sleep with me or are scared of me.

I want to start smoking again, just so i'll be closer to perfect.

Impossible you say? Nothing is impossible when you work for the circus.

So, it would seem that Matt and I are together. For real.

I am equal parts thrilled, terrified, apprehensive, and disgusted. I feel like such a hypocrite because most of my life I have been shitting on love, and the minute the potential for love comes to me, what do I do? I turn into an eternally sappy ball of mush. Its gross. There's sap, and on the whole mushy stuff that makes me want to barf.

I have never welcomed nausea this readily in all my life.

So far, we're perfect.

I think we've both grown up since the last time we dated. I mean, I always (always = since 2005) told myself that I would never date someone twice, or date a drummer, or someone who was born with a 7 letter name that could be shortened to a four letter nickname (ie Anthony to Tony, Gregory to Greg, Michael to Mike, etc). Those rules are based on patterns in my life, and now I am kind of spitting in their face. I'm not sure what this compulsion for rules and order is, but its hard to say if I will keep them all. But I digress. I'm happy, and that's a start.

We build momentum with the fact that he seems more willing to invest himself too. When we last dated, I was just a kid, barely 20, which would put him at 21. Very self-centered ages. We both seem to have grown out of a lot of the dumb shit. He's talked about righting some of the fuckups he's made, not because I ever asked him to, but because it would bring us closer together.

When I was in Chicago, he said to me once, "you seem more like yourself." I keep trying to decipher that and coming up with nothing of substance. I blame philosophy class. I feel like it's profound, but can't tell why.

I love pop music again.

Now Playing: "Creepin Up On You" - Darren Hayes

the chicago trip, 67-100

part six: it's all terribly French.

68. return to the apartment.
69. listen to music in Matt's room.
70. watch weird music videos on youtube.
71. start making out.

part seven:I can sleep when I'm dead.

72. realize its 1:30
73. notice that nobody that was supposed to call called.
74. stopped caring.
75. carried on.
76. passed out for approx. 2 hours.
77. resumed activity # 71.
78. realized the sun was coming up.
79. resumed activity #71 again.
80. realized it was 10 am
81. realized I was starving.

part eight: I am sick of committing to the concept, I am fast forwarding.

82. ate breakfast.
83. napped.
84. for obvious reasons, it took an hour to get directions and put my shoes on.
85. wished I hadn't made prior arrangements to pick up Jill so I could leave on Monday instead.
86. left for downtown.

part nine: glory fades

89. made a NASCAR loop around downtown for 20 minutes.
90. swore at Chicago drivers.
91. swore at street signs that were more deocrative than functional.
92. finally made it to where I was supposed to be.

part ten: Indiana, why bother?

93. decided Jill's GPS was a better idea than my other directions.
94. GPS smoked crack.
95. took an extra 15 minutes to get on the damn expressway.
96. got on the damn expressway.
97. watched as it started to snow.
98. played the radio game*
99. stopped driving.
100. smiled.

Anyone else find it pretty fucking silly that Beyonce titled her new album I Am...Sasha Fierce?

I love the city always.

Driving is for poor people and I am not that big of a fan. At least in my homeland of Chicago.

I can't wait to be home. That's where my heart is.

So, what happened:

Part one: in transit.

1. packed a lunch
2. started driving.
3. realized somewhere around New Buffalo I forgot my glasses.
4. Decided it was unnecessary on a scale of 1-10.
5. didn't die despite efforts from wind and looming thoughts of ominous deer.
6. sarcastically thanked mom for putting the thoughts of the deer in my head.
7. listened to genius lite rock radio coming out of South Bend
8. asked if I was there yet
9. realized I hadn't made it to Indiana.
10. made it to Indiana.
11. decided Valparaiso is just fun to say.
12. thought about stalking Kevin, my old english teacher.
13. thought better of it.
14. asked if I was there yet.
15. paid tolls.
16. tried not to think about what would happen if the road were to collapse over a given body of water.
17. thought about what would happen if the road were to collapse over a given body of water.
18. made it to Illinois.
19. paid tolls.
20. Listened to genius radio out of Chicago.
21. tried not to think about what would happen if the bridge were to collapse over a given body of water.
22. thought about what would happen if the bridge were to collapse over a given body of water.
23. entered Chicago city limits

Part two: in the city, I think

24. had mild panic attack anticipating the twattiness of Chicago drivers.
25. realized my fears were only kind of founded.
26. got into a traffic jam.
27. jammed to "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow
28. missed my exit due to Illinois no knowing how to label exits.
29. sat at the world's longest light.
30. cursed Chicago's urban developers.
31. jammed to "Cath" by Death Cab For Cutie
32. tried to stop at a Starbucks.
33. found zero parking anywhere nearby.
34. found a Starbucks at the Dominick's at the other end of the parking lot.
35. got coffee.
36. tried to read.
37. got bored.
38. found the liquor aisle.
39. found 1.75 liters of Skyy vodka for $20.00
40. Purchased vodka and chips.
41. got back in the car.
42. got lost (the fun kind)
43. got lost (the less fun kind)
44. got un-lost
45. tried to visit Devon.
46. refused to pay for parking.
47. found zero parking.
48. had the urge to pee.
49. regretted driving.
50. paid thirty-five cents for a pack of juicy fruit and pissing privileges at a very well lit BP.
51. got frustrated.
52. smoked in an IHOP parking lot.
53. got a call from Matt.

Part three: I finally stop driving.

54. locate Matt.
55. locate Matt's apartment.
56. collapse with joy that I have finally stopped driving after five hours.
57. start drinking.

part four: our weekend starts halfway into Saturday night.

58. continue to drink while Matt showers.
59. realized I was drunk off of one drink.
60. hung out with Matt's roommate and tried not to be awkward.
61. was only moderately successful.
62. decide on dinner plans
63. leave for dinner.

part five: of mice and Kanye

64. buy Yellow Tail pinot noir for dinner
65. get amazing thai
66. make loose plans to meet up with other friends later.
67. pay bill.

It makes me think I'm going for some sort of record.

Okay. More things straightened out. More things to fret over.

Leaving Saturday. Check. Staying with Matt (whatever that means). Check.

However, I now have the following to worry about: Matt doesn't get off work until 8. p.m. I wanted to bypass weekend traffic by going early. If I go early, I am met with the task of anal rape parking rates, and the daunting task of amusing myself. I made plans to hang out with Devon, but I don't know what time that's going to happen.

I have not called Kenny yet. I'm not sure I want to, considering the shenanigans that happened the last time he was in town. But, he did do me the courtesy of calling when he was here. He could potentially fix my boredom problem. Dammit. The only problem with getting ahold of him is that it is a fucking production. Like if you want to hang out with him, you should call two hours earlier than logic dictates. Fucking ridiculous, those English mafia dudes are.

I've got "Dashboard" by Modest Mouse stuck in my head. Considering the situation I have currently put myself in, I am not sure if that's the best thing. Also the album its on is called We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank. Oh it would have been, could have been, worse than you will ever know...

Whatever that means.

You say I'm crazy. I got your crazy. Womanizer. Fucking Britney's army of Swede pop geniuses.

I kind of want to get drunk tonight.

I love the city tonight.

I love the city tonight

yeah I'm updating back to back. Don't get used to it, I've just spent a retarded amount of time in my head, and if I don't get it out, my head may just very well explode.

So I am planning to drive to Chicago (all things go, all things go), and I have no place to stay. On a scale of 1-10, I am not that worried about finding one. I could stay with Kenny, Devon, or Matt. The only place this becomes problematic is where I was attracted to all three of them at one point in time or another. Or now. Which is a point in time. I am also looking at departure times. If I leave right after work on friday afternoon, I am still in Chicago in the thick of rush hour which does not bode well for my mental state of being. If I leave anytime after 5, it will be dark as balls and possibly in the thick of party transit. Weekend traffic is always a biiiiitch. If I leave early saturday morning, I bypass the retarded traffic factor, but I only have 24 hours to get everybody plus my agenda in.

Speaking of agendas, I don't really know what mine is. In regards to the trip, in regards to the boys, in regards to... life. I don't know what I want from Matt, because part of me is undoubetly attracted to him. But let's not be so hasty to forget that he kind of devastated me a little when he broke up with me. I don't know what I want from Devon, because he is undoubetedly cool and kinda crazy, but in the totally cool way. Sometimes I want him. I think he's moving to Japan. Figures.

So I'll go hunting for witches.

Shit, son.

Is the sun out yet?

I will be collecting advice on the leaving/sleeping situation.

Now playing: "Loretta Young Silks" - Sneaker Pimps

There is not nearly enough new wave in my life

So is it really lame that I never realized that "Your Woman" by White Town was about a guy in love with a lesbian?

Shut up, I realize the song is like eleven years old, but still....

Also obsessing about the Snow Patrol single "Take Back the City". This is mostly due to the chorus being catchy and simple as fuck, but also due to the fact that VH1 loves to play the video when I wake up in the morning.

Totally buggin about the roadtrip that I may or may not take. At this point, driving's cheaper than the train, but the thing about driving is I get anxious and paranoid and I need a xanax just to make it to the Walgreens down the street, let alone 150ish miles in a direction I have never driven in before. We'll see. The city met me with a slightly icy reception the last time I went home, but this time already looks to be better than the last. I will watch the weather, and align my planets. Godspeed, you black universe!

Fucking A. Let's watch Hair.

Let the sun shine in.

I miss the old NIN.

Needless to say, today I have had the golden touch in locating old mixes with jams I love. God is an American.

The 80s miss me. 85% of my recreational music happens to be songs sung by for and about robots. Not in the obnoxious Katy Perry way, but in the Depeche Mode/New Order/David Bowie kind of way.

Done with work.

Seacrest out!

Now Playing: "Bizzare Love Triangle" - New Order

Things I am not saying out loud. (you're a slave to yourself and you don't even know)

watch out kids, this could get ugly. The less I see the sun, the more I retreat into myself.

1. I could like Matt again, even though he devastated me the first time we broke up. I generally don't like to repeat dating mistakes, but the more I talk to him, the more I miss him, dammit.
2. I feel like everyone is constantly looking down on me.
3. (Personal pronoun abuse aside,) I feel like with the variety of relationship opportunities that I have had, the only constant is me, which leads to the conclusion that the problem isn't with "them" it's with me.
3a. but what's the problem? Is my personality that terrible? Am I that overweight? Is my fashion sense that askew? Am I that shitty of a person? Am I that smart? Am I that dumb?
4. I was pissy at dinner last night and nobody noticed. We had constructed a plan earlier for me to get fake pissy at dinner, but as the night wore on, I became real pissy. So that one really is my fault, because out of the four other people I was eating with, two were in on it, and one caught on right away. But that doesn't count because a) she was eventually let in on the plan, and b) she's a girl.
4a. I am the type of person to say everything's fine, especially when it's not, and then get depressed when everybody assumes that everything's fine. Ridiculous, I know.
5. I am so jealous of Jill. Everybody loves her and falls all over themselves to be with her and be in her good graces. Everybody likes her so much better and I can't stand it. Well, let me clarify: I can stand it, it just depresses the hell out of me. And I think that is where some of what #2 comes from. Like people only put up with me because I am Jill's roommate.

I told you this was ugly.

This trail mix is disgusting, and now is a good a time as any to do my homework.

Religious views: Devout Playlistism

I thought I was quitting boys. I fell off the wagon twice this summer, and once after school started.

because we count instances, not boys.

I think I am going to quit them again. The entirety of the summer involved my pursuit of a boy named Keith. He's 23, from a small town towards the middle of the state, graduated and now a flight instructor. He gets paid to fly planes. Pretty conservative, and pretty into his faith (Catholic). Of course I had to go and fall for him. Because opposites attract, right? We will call this Mayish, maybe early June. Fast forward to um, September. I have made a bad decision with two boys out in the sticks of Michigan (not as scandalous as it sounds), fallen prey to the syndrome that only affects single girls at weddings, and made out with my neighbor from across the hall (which is a lot of drama all by itself). Word got to Keith that I liked him. Nothing happened. Word got to me that Keith liked me. More nothing, even though the record is till fuzzy as to if he knows that I know.

I don't make the first move.

Fast forward to October. Nothing's changed. Except me. I got bored. To be honest, I think he did too. The thing I will always hate about nice guys (forever and ever amen) is I can't tell when they're flirting and when they are just being themselves. I think he's moved on to my roommate. I can't tell because 1. this kid is habitually nice. All the time. and 2. Every time I project and think that a guy likes her, it turns out to be untrue. Sometimes.

Maybe it is just me.

It's always just me.

I think that's enough navel gazing for one morning.

now playing: " Early Morning" - Britney Spears

a town called malice

malice, malice baby

too cold too cold.

Reading The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz and its pretty fucking brilliant so far. I want to get a bottle of wine (or whatever relaxing beverage I can get ahold of) and just finish the book out.

I'm actually reading a lot of really good books this summer.

I've been recreationally reading On Beauty by Zadie Smith.

I love it.

Love it all.

I should write more this summer. More than my requiste one poem a month.

Apparently there is going to be a movie version of Oscar Wao. Well at least there is talk of it.

...and you coming back to me is against the odds, and that's a chance I'll have to take.

What is anybody afraid of.

Fearless.

The more I think about it I want a huge honkin' sidepiece.

I'm obsessed.