The ugly friend/drum lessons/hello operator

There's this concept I have come to personify: the ugly ftriend. The one that's pretty...cool (outside the bedroom), and may even be attractive, maybe, independent of the others. It hit me thrusday and all I wanted to do was sit and cry. And consume all the booze I could.

It started thursday afternoon, when the cute boy at work started macking on my coworker. And I think she likes him back. She just broke up with her boyfriend for what could be the the 238,348,853,723,762nd time, and she's a vegan and I'm fairly certain that was Handel's Messiah to the boy's ears. So I was really upset by that. And then we went to the bar and I had wine and lots of other booze and I was starting to feel better but then all my friends kept getting hit on and I was like shit goddamn, I can't catch a break, and then I thought I was going to cry in the bathroom (my trademark, I'm startng to notice) but I didn't. I came close and then some girl came in and I have this complex about people seeing or hearing me cry, so I cut that shit out. And then friday, I worked withTheresa, who is my favorite. But she is gorgeous and all the students hit on her, even if they are old and creepy. And she's smart, and she's cool. We went to a party that night, and every one we went with was so pretty and I really just wanted to lay down and cry/die. The only two things those nights had in common were that I was there and that I didn't get hit on, which only led me to the conclusion that I am THE UGLY FRIEND. Everybody has one. I assumed it was someone else.

It really is enough to make a girl invent an eating disorder.

Smokerexic?

Whatever it is is going to kill me and they will have to name the condition after me.

I want to take drum lessons.

The only way to get over drummers is to become one.

This will not be cut-pasted into my myspace blog, because the persona I have constructed doesn't have these issues. She used to wear her heart on her sleeve and then she changed shirts. She rocks a little too hard, drives a little to fast, thinks a little too much and loves life like it's her job.

That's not me right now.

its a start that won't turn over

I am officially nostalgic for the nineties. I love the nineties as a whole but spesifically the mid to late nineties when things lightened the fuck up. They had a zeigeist that I never saw before and have not seen since. Pretentiousness was frowned upon, and it was about how real you could get it. Well, to a degree anyway. There were definite things and guarantees. There was so much color. It's not like it hurts that much anyway.

We are in times of black and gumetal gray. Our paradigm poses the question of "how fake can it be and still exist?"

Blurring the edges so they blend together properly.

So my life is nothing but a giant theme party.

Last week's theme was suck.

This week's theme is AWKWARD.

Monday was the mother of all awkward days, nothing was particularly awkward yesterday (well not in a way that directly affects me), and I am fully prepared for the awkwardness that today and tomorrow and the day after and the day after that will bring.

Let's start from the beginning. monday I was macked on, and romantic advances are always awkward. I won't get into it because my ego doesn't get that big. But then, at the Carl Phillips reading I had to go to for class, I bump into my studies in drama professor. We catch up, its cute. But then. But then. Then he proceeds to correct me on a quote I attributed to him in livejournal. IN DECEMBER. And then I proceeded to get creeped the fuck out because my teacher READ MY LIVEJOURNAL. Well I guess I shouldn't be shocked because its linked on my facebook. Maybe a few other places as well, I can't remember. Maybe he googled himself. I'm glad there's this little sanctuary where I have not shamelessly linked and nobody knows about my horrific crushes and trainwreck love life.

Things that my old Professor now could know about me:
-I kissed a former student of his that I'm pretty sure he is on VERY good terms with.
-I have a crush on aformentioned former student
-I procrastinated the FUCK out of the final paper for his class.
-I secretly aspire to act.
-I had a fleeting crush on a student IN the class
-I got stoned the night of Central/Western
-I have a sobriety problem
-Tony issues.
-I am a shitty, shitty writer.

I can be a poetess.

I wish it was spring.

I wish for Spring to awaken me.

Art is hard.

scenes from a midwestern coffeeshop

I am surrounded by sound. Always. But truth be told, I'd rather be in a pretentious red room bumping M.I.A or some sort of sonic facsimile than im my own "home" where the white walls are rattling with the bass of some sort of regurgitated idea of "street".

It is friday night.

I have groceries. And movies. And a buzz from the wine and cigarettes.

It's okay, I walked.

In fact, my face is flushed and I'm tempted to remove my sweatshirt.

There are kids everywhere, they're everywhere and they look so young and I feel so old, and I wonder if I look as old as I feel. This ain't supposed to be a scene, it's a goddamn coffeeshop. I wonder if these kids know how good they've got it.

This photograph is proof, and this Sam Shepard book is cred.

My haircut doesn't suck enough to be here.

I like this M.I.A. song.

He looks too familar and too much my type for me to notice him.

its 10:40 and I don't know where my children are, let alone my boy.

I don't need to calm down.I've been too calm for too long.

Fuck it, this book isn't getting read. But I need to.

Savage Republic (hoarding emotional vicodin)

:

Can I tell you a story about how one time I completely lost my shit? I did, resulting in the most emo freakout of all time. Allow me to explain: first there was the finding of the girl that pretty much is responsible for the dissintergration of my last "meaningful relationship" on facebook. And what's worse is she's in my network and has not disabled ANYTHING in her minifeed. My friends tried to help. They told me she looks like a boy. That's a boldfaced lie, but you know, thanks anyway. And then there was the finding out that they're still together. And then there was the slamming of both my hands in my window. Followed by a day of carbo-loading, and another evening of wine followed by another one of beer and whiskey. I almost made another life altering fuck up of a decision, but decided that I'd better pass out in somebody else's bed and walk home alone in a miniskirt at 4 in the morning. Throw some cigarettes in the mix and you've got my week in a nutshell.

Playwrights are the new boys in bands. I went to to the Rich Orloff reading for class last night, and decided that on the whole, he is not an unattractive man. A little wrinkly, but you know what they say about wrinkles.....too much time in LA. I had an awkward conversation about wine with Steve Feffer.

Anyone wanna go to the Murder By Death Show in Chicago on saturday? I'll throw in for gas, seeing as Amy Grindhouse is starting to make even scarier noises when I brake.

I could be hungry.

Rent's due.

Is it sad that I could get back with Justin at this point? I've been thinking about it seriously. Maybe its because I'm lonely. Maybe it's because I haven't made a pros and cons list yet.

Can't. Stop. Yawning.

Also need to start formulating how I want my schedule to go next semester.

I got accepted for the journalism minor. Yay school! Does this mean I have to do something lame like write for the Western Herald? GOD, I hope not.

I wish I wasn't so emo.

I just realized how terrible people can be. We all know what a terrible person I am, what terrible people my exes are and the less than perfect momenets my friends have.

She is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me.

Sometimes fate is just a trainwreck of extraordinary coincidences piled up one on top of the other, on top of the other. A remix of encounters.

my secret. stop me if you think that you've heard this one before

Happy Birthday

I still love you.

I'd get almost get back together with Justin if it meant that I could just forget you already.

But it doesn't, so I can't, so I won't.

And you'll never know. You'll never see me again.

Happy birthday.

may it be the kindest you've ever known.

I kinda always knew you'd end up my ex-boyfriend

So I don't know what to do with or about my life. This is really turning into a rant and bitch forum about Tony and I don't want that. My remedy:

I've moved back to Kalamazoo, gotten an apartment in a slightly sketchy neighborhood, but my friends don't live far. There are trains but they don't bother me (much). There's an abandoned coffeehouse next door, but it looks like they're opening back up soon. I'm stealing internet from them to type this. I went to Flordia last weekend, and all I got was this lousy cold. I've been living on juice and chips and salsa. There are boys named Dan that find their way into my brain. One could be gay. my apartment is always 15 degrees hotter than what it really is outside.

There, now back to Tony.

I've been in touch with him, but the last I heard, he was in Chicago. I was pretty pissed about that (something about that being MY turf?). But due to some unintentional stalking, it turns out that he'll be in town next weekend to celebrate his birthday. As in Kalamazoo. neutral territory, right? Right? I've got two votes from my camp that say crash it. I've got one vote from me that says I should not. It would be officially be crossing over into his turf. I'm a shark and he's a jet and no amount halfstepshuffleslidestepstepkicks would be able to quell the awkwardness. you dig?

I'm tired of thinking about it so I'm ignoring it altogether, now.

Dear voice: please come back so I can sing showtunes and annoy my neighbors again.

Do you like Television?

I'm doing it again. I'm becoming what I project as a particular person's ideal girl, all in the mere hopes that it will get me someone who cares. Well to the best of my ability. I've always been me, don't get me wrong, but at the same time, I choose to...amplify certain traits. This time around I am me with a severe rock and roll complex. I drink hard, I talk hard, I talk all kinds of smack. I come out to shows. Spesifically, the band the boy plays guitar in. My accessories include a metal cigarette case always at capacity (with cloves), a whiskey sour, and a bored expresson. I essentally become the guy in that LCD Soundsystem song "Losing My Edge". I've heard of everything, if you dig it and I've never heard of it, it's "okay". I will rep what I love. It is all about spin. Control. Those two words. Spin. Spin. Spin.

And it's not that I'm a greep, it's just that I pay attention to what or who fascinates me. For example, I could not tell you a thing about the girl I met after helping my friend move. Well I could, but I'd have to spend a few moments thinking. On the other hand, I can recall with a certain degree of uncanny detail odd and bizarre bits of information. My acting teacher, for example: is married, has two kids aged 2 and 4, the 2 year old is special needs, he's 32, his wife is 33, her birthday is coming up, is 6'4, referenced Madonna within the first 30 minutes of class, has a panic disorder. Don't ask why I can remember that, but have difficulty with the formulas for finite math, physics, geometry, chemistry...

I am not a fake.

day tripping on the tussin

I was sick for the better part of last week, which more or less means sleeping. A lot. Well, for me anyway. I kept odd hours, was feverish and had dreams that were interrupted by violent turbucular coughing fits. These fever dreams were among the weirdest I've had in awhile (but I don't consider the dreams where people are trying to kill me weird anymore, so keep in mind that weirdness is relative, ok?). I can't recall most of them, but the one that has stayed with me after the fever broke was the one about Tony. Yeah (crass version). Tony. The exact details are hazy, but the gist of the dream is as follows: I check my emails (I have like 4) , including the one I used to correspond with Tony. I don't really use it for much else, so when I saw that I had one new message, I was baffled, but essentially chalked it up to spam or yahoo! plugging their "new" service. But no, it actually is from Tony, and my brain replicates the exact same sense of anxiety I would have had had this not been a dream. The email was simple, it said something to the effect of "I miss you too. Friends?" I was all excited and then I woke up.

Its not really a big deal. People dream about talking to other people who have phased out of their lives all the time. Not me. I hardly ever dream about people I know/heard of. I flat out don't dream about boys I like, have liked, or have dated. I'm not digging for S.S. Significance, am I?

A Sign's a sign right?

Fuck all, if I can't speak the language though.

...and then there's Andy. He'll be explained another night.

Recreational Paranoia

I'll look into actual communication with Tony once I reach letter five. I've written three in the last month, and with every line I write, I decide anything is better than staying in my head. I'm no longer hurting, but a part of me can't let go. A part of me refuses to believe that this is the way things are going to end between us. Isn't that the most disgusting cliche you've ever heard me spew? I DON'T SPEW CLICHES. The part that won't let go is small enough that I can forget that I feel this way for most of the day, but strong enough to make me think that he is potentially my soulmate. Clerks II didn't help either.

Maybe if I say it here, I can go back to being in denial about it: I love him. It scares me how much I need him, to think about him. But on the other hand, the more times I admit it, the more I indulge in the following process:

1. I admit to still having strong feelings for him, for all sakes and purposes, love him.
2. I then proceed to attempt to get the thought out of my head as fast as possible. Usually this involves convincing myself that I have herpes and/or may be infertile. This may or may not be true.
3. Repeat stage one.
4. Proceed to tell myself that the more I admit to what may or may not be my true feelings, the more my brain will believe it. (It's science: I'm not 100% sure on the spesifics, but the more you do something, the less likely you are to forget it...synapses firing and all that.)
5. Proceed to facilitate the forgetting/distracting process by reading and on occasion masturbating.
6. Sleep.

Usually this takes place in between crawling into bed and going to sleep. It takes about an hour, maybe two if I write, less if I'm too tired to pine.

I keep thinking that all it takes is for me to fess up to feeling something. But...what if it doesn't?

12345 you owe me a coke!

The weekend that I was working for:

Friday was class. I have class on friday night. I am more than okay with that. It seems countertheoretical to the subject matter (History of Rock and Roll) but I get out at 9 which is just in time to make the party. My teacher is a bit of a soccer mom and she mostly knows her shit. Emphasis on mostly. The cute boy quota for a friday night class is suprisingly high. People seem cool. I was going to see Volver after class, but parking was mad crazy lame so I ended up driving around and kind of getting almost lost. I was like yeah whatever.

Saturday was the utter horror known as the Auto Show. It's always a big deal and I never understood why. I'd never been. So I went to meet up with Katy + her bf. Traffic on the expressway wasn't bad at all (especially for a friday night), but the local traffic was a BEAST and a HALF. It might have helped if I hadn't missed my turn and people from Ohio knew how to drive. And whose genius idea was it to schedule a hockey game on the same night the Auto Show opens to the public??! Oh big flaming piles of DEATH on them. It took me four times longer than I should have to get back to the expressway when I was leaving. But okay back to the actual auto show. I didn't take the camera or any pictures. I can only look at cars for so long before they all start to look the same...all shiny and shit. The sports cars all look like tic tacs and my head still hurts from all the terrible electronic music (save the Mini cooper area.). It's like they want you to forget where you actually are and that by some odd twist of magical fate you have landed in a commercial (hence the bright lights and "hot chicks"). Some boys were okay looking. I got kind of depressed when Katy's other friends (an engaged couple) showed up and I became the fifth wheel. That will also make a room full of shiny objects boring. I expected at least a bar so I can at least be hammered in a room of shiny objects. But, no such luck on the bar. I was going to go out to eat after but the local traffic as I stated before, was lame so I just went home.

Sunday (today): There is real food in the house again. Yay.

I'm lonely but I ain't that lonely yet. I'm getting there though.

Been writing a lot lately, some really terrible poetry but I'll be letting you be the judge of that later. I've been having dreams lately. Two are too embarassing to repost here but one was the guy from that Dirty Jobs show on the discovery channel. That's how I know I've reached hardcore geek status.

And...oh, I changed my plugs. 10s are in my ears now. I'm excited to pick up some 8s and 6s. The scabs fell off my tattoo and it itches way less. I always like modifying when things end.

I love tv on the internet. (I smell indie rock cover band!)

I am not in love

I don't know what's expected from me in the arena of relationships, but I can't seem to catch a break.

I always have something to prove, even when I don't.

I thought I'd be better off without him, cutting him off, completely cold turkey just no more...but something inside me says not to give up, not to let go. I have no problem giving up on those who have given up on me, but this time it's different and that kills me. I'm supposed to be FIERCE. Independent. Crazy/beautiful. Smart.

I think alienating this guy was the biggest mistake of my life. Yeah, I'm supposed to be 21 and invincible and over that kind of shit in like, HIGH school.

So much for MFEO.

I miss that stupid ache.

Fuck. I gotta mend bridges.

I can't remeber if I posted this already

It used to be my "about me" from myspace/facebook...

I'm over conforming to non-conformism.
So J. Crew isn't the AntiChrist (L'acoste is but that's neither here nor there). The point is, I am on my way somewhere, but everywhere en route to somewhere is nowhere. Antiwhere, if you will. This would be my time of reinvention. My vintage habits in exchange for trendier ones at twice the price (but still below MSRP).
Here's to being perpetually fashionably late.
And with that I pop my collar.
My slang will never change, just my shell. I'll still sing sad British/Canadian songs about jackets, bars, and breakups.
Can you tell I'm watching you, analyzing every nervous shift you make beacuse you're not used to how your sweater fits? I can tell you have a crush on that girl's jeans and the year 1996.
Are you up to the challenge?

I'm far too sober to read this shit.

N-A-R You scored 77% Non-Reductionism, 55% Epistemological Absolutism, and 33% Moral Objectivism!

You are an N-A-R: a metaphysical Non-Reductionist, an epistemological Absolutist, and a moral Relativist. If you are simply dying inside to figure out what all this mumbo-jumbo means, then simply continue reading. Metaphysics: Non-Reductionism (Idealism or Realism) In metaphysics, my test measures your tendency towards Reductionism or Non-Reductionism. As a Non-Reductionist, you recognize that reality is not necessarily simple or unified, and you thus tend to produce a robust ontology instead of carelessly shaving away hypothetical entities that reflect our philosophical experiences. My test recognizes two types of Non-Reductionists: Idealists and Realists. 1. Idealists believe that reality is fundamentally unknowable. All we can ever know is the world of sense experience, thought, and other phenomena which are only distorted reflections of an ultimate (or noumenal) reality. Kant, one of the most significant philosophers in history, theorized that human beings perceive reality in such a way that they impose their own mental frameworks and categories upon reality, fully distorting it. Reality for Kant is unconceptualized and not subject to any of the categories our minds apply to it. Idealists are non-reductionists because they recognize that the distinction between phenomenal reality and ultimate reality cannot be so easily discarded or unified into a single reality. They are separate and distinct, and there is no reason to suppose the one mirrors the other. Major philosophical idealists include Kant and Fichte. If your views are different from the above, then you may be a Realist. 2. Realists deny the validity of sloppy metaphysical reductions, because they feel that there is no reason to suspect that reality reflects principles of parsimony or simplicity. Realism is the most common-sensical of the metaphysical views. It doesn't see reality as a unity or as reducible to matter or mind, nor does it see reality as divided into a phenomenal world of experience and an unknowable noumenal world of things-in-themselves. Realist metaphysics emphasizes that reality is for the most part composed of the things we observe and think. On the question of the existence of universals, for instance, a realist will assert that while universals do not physically exist, the relations they describe in particulars are as real as the particular things themselves, giving universals a type of reality. Thus, no reduction is made. On the mind-body problem, realists tend to believe that minds and bodies both exist, and the philosophical problems involved in reducing mind to matter or matter to mind are too great to warrant such a reduction. Finally, realists deny that reality is ultimately a Unity or Absolute, though they recognize that reality can be viewed as a Unity when we consider the real relations between the parts as constituting this unity--but it doesn't mean that the world isn't also made up of particular things. Aristotle and Popper are famous realists. ***** Epistemology: Absolutism (Rationalism or Pragmatism) My test measures one's tendency towards Absolutism or Skepticism in regards to epistemology. As an Absolutist, you believe that objective knowledge is possible given the right approach, and you deny the claims of skeptical philosophers who insist that we can never have knowledge of ultimate reality. The two types of Absolutists recognized by my test are Rationalists and Pragmatists. 1. Rationalists believe that the use of reason ultimately provides the best route to truth. A rationalist usually defines truth as a correspondence between propositions and reality, taking the common-sense route. Also, rationalists tend to believe that knowledge of reality is made possible through certain foundational beliefs. This stance is known as foundationalism. A foundationalist believes that, because we cannot justify the truth of every statement in an infinite regress, we ultimately reach a foundation of knowledge. This foundation is composed of a priori truths, like mathematics and logic, as well as undoubtable truths like one's belief in his or her own existence. The belief that experiences and memories are veridical is also part of the foundation. Thus, for a rationalist knowledge of reality is made possible through our foundational beliefs, which we do not need to justify because we find them to be undoubtable and self-evident. In regards to science, a rationalist will tend to emphasize the foundational assumptions of scientific inquiry as prior to and more important than scientific inquiry itself. If science does lead to truth, it is only because it is based upon the assumption of certain rational principles such as "Every event is caused" and "The future will resemble the past". Philosophy has a wide representation of philosophical rationalists--Descartes, Spinoza, Liebniz, and many others. If that didn't sound like your own views, then you are most likely the other type of Absolutist: the Pragmatist. Epistemological Pragmatists are fundamentally identified by their definition of truth. Truth is, on this view, merely a measure of a proposition's success in inquiry. This view is a strictly scientific notion of truth. A proposition can be called true if it leads to successful predictions or coheres best with the observed facts about the world. Thus, for the pragmatist, knowledge of reality is possible through scientific reasoning. A pragmatist emphasizes man's fallibility, and hence takes baby-steps towards knowledge through scientific methodology. Any truth claim for a pragmatist is open to revision and subject to change--if empirical observations lead us to call even logical rules into question (like quantum physics has done for the law of the excluded middle), then we can and should abandon even these supposed a priori and "absolutely certain" logical rules if they do not accord with our testing and refuting of our various propositions. As a consequence of this, a pragmatist doesn't feel that scientific knowledge is based upon unfounded assumptions that are taken to be true without any sort of justification--rather, they believe that the successes of scientific inquiry have proved that its assumptions are well-founded. For instance, the assumption of science that the future will be like the past is adequately shown by the amazing success of scientific theories in predicting future events--how else could this be possible unless the assumption were true? Pragmatism borrows elements from realism and yet attempts to account for the critiques made by skeptics and relativists. It is essentially a type of philosophical opportunism--it borrows the best stances from a large number of philosophical systems and attempts to discard the problems of these systems by combining them with others. Famous pragmatists of this type are Peirce and Dewey. ***** Ethics: Relativism (Subjectivism or Emotivism) My test measures one's tendency towards moral Objectivism or moral Relativism in regards to ethics. As a moral Relativist, you tend to see moral choices as describing a subject's reaction to a moral object or situation, and not as a property of the moral object itself. You may also feel that moral words are meaningless because they do not address any empirical fact about the world. My test recognizes two types of moral relativists--Subjectivists and Emotivists. 1. Subjectivists see individual or collective desires as defining a situation's or object's moral worth. Thus, the subject, not the object itself, determines the value. Subjectivists recognize that social rules, customs, and morality have been wide-ranging and quite varied throughout history among various cultures. As a result, Subjectivism doesn't attempt to issue hard and fast rules for judging the moral worth of things. Instead, it recognizes that what we consider "good" and "right" is not bound by any discernable rule. There is no one trait that makes an act good or right, because so many different kinds of things have been called good and right. In regards to the definition of "good" or "right", a Subjectivist will tend to define it as whatever a particular person or group of people desire. They do not define it merely as "happiness" or "pleasure", for instance, because sometimes we desire to do things that do not produce pleasure, and because we don't consider all pleasurable things good. Furthermore, Subjectivists recognize the validity of consequentialism in that sometimes we refer to consequences as good and bad--but they also recognize that our intentions behind an action, or the means to the end, can also determine an act's moral worth. Again, there is no one rule to determine these things. Hence the relativism of moral Subjectivism. The most well-known of the subjectivists is Nietzsche. If that didn't sound like your position, then you are probably the other variety of moral Relativist--the Emotivist. Emotivists are moral Relativists only in a very slanted sense, because they actually deny that words about morality have any meaning at all. An Emotivist would probably accept Hume's argument that it is impossible to derive an "ought" from an "is"--no factual state of affairs can logically entail any sort of moral action. Furthermore, a emotivist's emphasis on scientific (and hence empirical) verification and testing quickly leads to the conclusion that concepts such as "good" and "right" don't really describe any real qualities or relations. Science is never concerned with whether a particular state of affairs is moral or right or good--and an emotivist feels much the same way. Morality is thus neither objective or subjective for the emotivist--it is without any meaning at all, a sort of vague ontological fiction that is merely a symbol for our emotional responses to certain events. Famous emotivists include Ayer and other positivists associated with the Vienna Circle. ***** As you can see, when your philosophical position is narrowed down there are so many potential categories that an OKCupid test cannot account for them all. But, taken as very broad categories or philosophical styles, you are best characterized as an N-A-R. Your exact philosophical opposite would be an R-S-O.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

Darren Hayes yet again, sums it up: my life right now 100%

I got a cottage with a sea view
I got a regular summer tan
I’ve been working up the courage to call you all year, ohhh
There is nothing I can say
There are no good words left anyway
Besides people are cruel
And the world still moves without you, ohhh

Welcome to my Californian home
You don’t have to call me you can leave when you want
There’s a picture by my bed
There’s a light in your eyes
I don’t know
Well I don’t know
Why you still feel alone

And we were dying from the get go
I was dreaming but you never believed
I was trying to fit myself in the spaces between, ohhh
And you were kind and sometimes cruel
You said all the world’s love couldn’t satisfy you
And nothing could have hurt me as much as the truth
Ohhh darling

Welcome to my Californian home
You don’t have to call me you can leave when you want
There’s a picture by my bed
There’s a light in your eyes I don’t know
Tell me ‘cause I want to find out
Do you still feel alone?

Love is elusive when you search for it
Don’t I know
Happiness sometimes it just creeps in
Don’t I know
I’m going crazy
I’ve been wondering
Do you still feel alone?
I need to find
Some kind of peace of mind
I need to find
I got a cottage with a sea view
I got a regular summer tan
I know that I deserve more
But I still want you
Welcome to my Californian home
You don’t have to call me you can leave when you want
There’s a picture by my bed
There’s a light in your eyes
I don’t know
Tell me ‘cause I want to find out
Do you still feel?
Welcome to my California
(I need to find)
Even though I’m no good for you
(Some kind of peace of mind)
There’s a part of me still waiting for you
(I need to find)
Welcome to my happy ending
(I need to find)
Even though it’s fun contending
(Some kind of peace of mind)
I know I know you can’t look back, you can never go back
Welcome to my Californian home
You can never go back
Welcome to my Californian home I know
You can never go back
Welcome to my Californian home I know
You can never go back I know
I need to find, do you still feel?
Welcome to my Californian home
(I need to find)
Even though I’m no good for you
(Some kind of peace of mind)
Deep inside there’s a piece of me, there’s a piece of me
Still waiting for you to come home
Welcome to my Californian home
(I need to find)
I know you can never look back, you can never look back again
(Some kind of peace of mind)
But tell me ‘cause I want to find out
Do you still feel alone?
Oh nooo
Do you still feel alone?
Oh nooo

Self Medication

This weekend was bittersweetly bizzare.

I spent 2/3 of the weekend wasted, or at the very least, happy drunk. I also spent those nights kind of high. It was my first time. I don't know if they'll be my last, though. I like the way pot forgives me. I don't think, I just exist in the present and then fall asleep and I don't care who wanders in and out of my dreams because nobody ever does. The sleep is dreamless and therefore guiltless and loveless.

Saturday, yesterday, sweetest day, I got dumped. I haven't cried yet. I'm not going to let myself have that luxury. I think I made a mistake last night. Mistake #1: going for Alex in front of Jeff/Telling Jeff that I thought Alex was cute. Once I kissed him (Alex), Jeff just got more melancholy. But conversely, anything that would have happened between me and Jeff would have been because he was rebounding and I was rebounding and and those facts make the chemistry not 100% genuine.

This playlist is not helping my refusing to cry. "Cutest" by Shamra just came on and all the air just rushed out of my stomach and I'm getting those goosebumps that I get before I'm about to have a really bad freakout.

There's some wine in the buffet cupboard, and it sounds like a bad idea. The best bad idea.

I just don't want this to turn into Matt all over again. My grades bombed, I gained weight, didn't go to class, I stopped caring about anything. About everything. I don't want to slip back there, but I feel it starting. The Sickness is on its way.

Another part of me still says that he'll come to his senses and come back with me, that he knew he belonged with me and that he just got scared. He'll tell me that the familiar is infinitely less scary than uncharted territory.

no. no no no no no no no no no no no no.

I gotta get outta here. Chicago soon?

you never get too old to play with dollies.

The Last Good Record DMB Ever Made

I was thinking during my daily swim, the reason why so many of us get into actual fights with our close friends is because we want them to be perfect people, and when we see them be less than perfect, objectively, we think that they've failed us somehow. When you operate out of your group dynamic archetype, you set yourself up for isolation and most importantly a dynamic overhaul.

I wonder why I 've never kept a best friend for longer than a few years.

It's definitely just me.

I wrestled an idea, and closed it in a box

I'm losing my mind a little. Myspace has been down for the last day and a half and I feel very very lost without it.

hey everyone! there's been a power outage in our data center. we're in the process of fixing it right now, so sit tight. hopefully we'll be back online within the hour. its 6:40pm PST now. wanna place a bet? -Tom

With a power outage going on, who needs to be awake? Ihad a migraine last night so I think the best idea at this point (8:03 am EDT) is to go back to bed

which I will do.

I just felt like sharing.

Now Playing: "Fake Bijork Song" - Liam Lynch

She said most of these things because she was trying to convince herself

Some things come in the nick of time, just barely in time to save my life. Today, on the news, it was reported that a local 12 year old killed himself. The method: he hung himself with his favorite hoodie while his parents were downstairs making dinner. That in and of itself was not the reason that this information was deemed worthy to share with all of Southeast Michigan. The piece was only done because his parents were pushing for a bill in congress and selling t-shirts to promote awareness of teen/preteen depression. I get the feeling this boy's suicidal success was unintentional. He was trying to ask for help, but he asked in a way that....I'm having trouble formulating the correct word to describe what I'm getting at.

I've often thought about killing myself for the attention. The amount of attention I'd get is extremely lucrative, and my tale would be vaguely romantic whenever people told the story of their daughter/friend/cousin/neice/classmate that killed themselves.

I'm not sure that information would make it to the suicude note though.

But anyway...what stopped me today was the fact that it pretty much all that work, torment, anguish and angst was for this: http://www.wxyztv.com/wxyz/cn_call_for_action/article/0,2132,WXYZ_15905_4858550,00.html

Sandwiched between ads and pictures and links and everything else ever to distract you from the actual story.

Don't get me started on how short it actually is.

I did yoga today and all I wanted to do was smoke after.

Now Playing: "Shining Skinned Friend" - The Juan MacLean