eggy

Breakfast always tastes better when you cook it yourself.

I keep losing the paper that I have all the things I need written on so I'm going to just copy everything here for future reference.

• FF9
  
• The Sylvia Plath books I lack
• teeny tiny ceramic curling iron
• teeth whitening strips
• proper pin-up curl pins
• Redken Curl Perfector

Those pins will be hell to sleep in, but bobby pins leave dents in the curls and I want to master this pin-up curl business to the point where my hair will look decent left down. I have the pins, books, and game all bookmarked from Amazon and once Mom gets home I'll just run it all by her. As for the strips and the Redken, I can hit up Walmart for that. Thank god they got that little salon in there now that sells professional stuff. Well, actually it's not a good thing. I have a hard time staying away from it when I have my own money to spend. I could buy it all, sometimes simply based on smell. I'm such pro-hair-product junkie...

I dunno how I'm going to break the news to my dad that I think the dog has eaten my retainer again. He already basically told me the last time I lost it to prepare to be bitched at if I make a habit out of losing it. So...I'm waiting for Mom to get home for that, too.

It sucks that I can never talk to him about this Hunter business. He bases everything off his previous pattern and every time we talk about it I just end up defending him and myself, so if I tell him what kind of crazy shit has been said he'll just act smug. I feel like I'm becoming a mini-version of Mom(which is probably I rely on her for back-up so much). I'm probably too hopeful for all of this, but I'm self-aware enough to dissect my father's strictly logic approach. So even though we argue from totally different viewpoints we can both get some valid points across. Although it's undeniable that if I ever cut my heart out of the equation and tried to defend Hunter objectively, I'd have a very flimsy argument...

This is seriously not something I want to deal with. Things should only be this horrible in overdone dramas. They just aren't supposed to be this hard, not without being scripted this way. I feel like I want to take a vacation away from everything and everyone. I would go with Ireland or something for the nature; rolling hills and privacy and such. But after seeing all those horror movies that take advantage of the isolation factor I'm not sure I'd have the balls to rent out some cottage and just chill there for a week without constantly thinking that some Rage-infected sheep is going to catapult through my window.

I don't even know if that whole anger infection business was set in Ireland, actually, but I vaguely remember some shot of a bunch of pissed off sheep running across some hills and how one of the heros ended up infected by a drop of blood in his eye and the rest of the survivors had to kill him. I know it's been more than three years since I've seen whatever movie that was because my room hadn't been reorganized yet, and I remember that because my bed was still in its former place and I wanted mom to sleep with me that night because the movie had scared the living hell out of me. .

Even though it's been overdone now, I always thought the insanity infection theme was pretty cool. It always managed to give me the creeps. I guess because everything you once knew as generally neutral suddenly becomes violent and deadly, and quick too. Giving a good thing a new negative connotation has always been scarier to me than the design of some entirely new species of killers.

I dunno, there's a lot in movies that can make me shudder. Imaginative gore will do the trick sometimes, just not the hack and slash stuff. Keyword here is imaginative. Like...ripping or twisting or skinning. Contorted bodies or voices or basically anything human becoming deformed and/or psychotic will usually do the trick if I really want to get creeped the fuck out.

I'm not sure how this entry ended up going from a shopping list, to the beginning of a whining session, to a discussion about horror elements. God, I'm boring.

catalyst

I feel so hopeless but strangely hopeful at the same time. Kind of like when I hit that really low point a few months ago, soaping myself for thirty minutes. I guess my brain is doing everything it can to keep me from venturing toward darker thoughts. But this time it's a little different. I don't have that gaping wound feeling that I had when Hunter and I weren't a couple. I feel more like I'm carrying something very heavy instead.

I'm too tired to explain how fucked up things are. Maybe I'll rant some other day, but for now I'd rather just pretend I don't feel horrible.

It's pathetic and almost funny how the first thing I did when I burst out into tears was look over at the little Buddha statue on the bookshelf and scream "why." Well of course that's funny to one of my readers because he's fucking vicious and twisted and has the heartlessness of a serial killer.



me: the way you got so angry about the dress..
me: the reason my dad wants you to pay for that isn't because he wasted money! It's because you broke his daughter's heart and he doesn't want you to do it again! He needs some kind of proof that you even care about me enough to show it through something.
you: Really? I'll pay for that. I don't care.
me: I don't even know why you want to pay for it. It's pointless if you don't understand...
you: He's just whoring you out. For money.
me: He's not whoring me at all
you: Which is cool, I guess.
me: My father would never do that
you: He is. Like right now.
me: what's wrong with you!? He would NEVER do that !
you: He kind of... is.
me: He just wants to know if you're actually serious!
you: Hey, whatever makes you feel better about it.
me: and you won't even talk to him, so how else can he know?!
you: Yes, and to test this, money should be relevant to how much I care. :P Give it up, he's whoring you out. I think you know that.
me: No. I know that he only wants you to pay for the dress because he needs proof that you realize how much you owe my parents. How much you owe them, not in money, but in my heartache. Five months I spent totally heartbroken about you. Money isn't the focus here. You're barely compensating for all the pain.
you: So thats why I'm paying for a dress? LOL. I love your reasoning. I'll pay for your stupid dress, and your dad will have successfully whored you out for money.



When you can read this, and think that not one bit of what you said makes any sense -- or better yet, be disgusted by the way you thought and spoke to me -- then I'll...I'll...I don't know. I hardly have any hope left for my miracle; it would just be a waste of energy to think of what I would do if it ever happened. I don't even have a plan for what I'm going to do from this point.

I am such an idiot for even attempting to explain this. I should've known none of it would work. I guess I just needed to see if you're really as far gone as I think you are.

I don't know. And I'm so tired.

My heart is so heavy.

all right, I give

...I wish.

"we accept the love we think we deserve"

Why does that sound so ominous to me?

I don't think I'm so self-destructive that I would believe I actually deserve the most difficult relationship I could've picked. What's more, I'm starting to get flustered about this shitty hand that I've been dealt, and if I had truly convinced myself that this was all I deserved I would be sickeningly accepting of it. Which well, I have accepted it, but in kind of a bitter, regretful way. At any rate, I'm not like one of those crazy women who get beaten by their husbands and then blame themselves for it.

My brain feels like it's filled with static. I want to write some more shitty freeform poetry, but I feel like there's some kind of stressed blockage. I need to get my chill back. Normally I'm such a hippie as far as my take on life, but I've been feeling so tense and wound up. Somethin's killin' my groove, man.

I guess it's because death's closing in on all sides, and senior year's about to hit me like a train. I so shouldn't be this anxious about it. I won't really be forced to socialize all that much anyhow, I'll be scrubbing old people or studying the human body with the same group for half of every day and every other class is going to be all business anyway, so I guess there's really nothing to worry about. I think the only thing bothering me is the fact that I don't have my license yet...

Bah, it's whatever. I'll get it eventually.

I've got a shitload of housework to do so I'll be back with more to say later.

theme: restless

I feel like switching up my layout again but I'm not sure. I like the way other blogs look but once I apply it to mine, I don't like it anymore.


You were never mine, always hers
I knew you were into older women
but that's a pretty ripe peach to pick.
Well, I know you never picked her.
She didn't really pick you either.
You were an awful surprise
and now you're a slave.

I wish you had the strength
to drop this dry, sour peach
into the ocean and let it flail
flail like you did, like you do
she rocks you back and forth
with the thick, gnarled roots from whence she came
bending you in ways that humans were never meant to be bent
twisting your spine and thickening your skull
emptying your heart and eyes
I see the ocean in your eyes
winter green and cold as ice
and your withered soul
a speck in the distance

I wish I could save you, but I can't.
There was never an ocean in my eyes,
only dark, warm embers.
I can withstand fire
but I can't swim.

You can only save yourself.

the only thing I follow

Included, but not necessarily connected or organized in any manner in this passage: friends, family, feelings, favorites, home.


the old, ornate fixtures of temples
the reflection of my face in a car window
the cities that never sleep but forever dream
the glow and grandeur of skyscrapers
the hours of ceaseless sarcastic laughter
the effortless connection with someone new
the cutesy, original slang we create day to day
the smell of food and incense and culture
the warble of crowds and bustling street sounds
the young fashionistas and karaoke fiends that stroll the sidewalk
the irony of a street-stand surpassing gourmet restaurants
the occasional snore of speeding traffic while you try to sleep
the crowded buses and heavily air-conditioned taxis
the nooks and crannies in corners and alleys
the signs that don't light up properly anymore
the hidden treasures in tattered old buildings
the strange stuff they let you add to snocones
the fact that it isn't a cone at all, it's a bowl of ice
the nonsensical repartees and overused jokes
the hilarious texts and the heartbreaking ones
the obvious lack of interpersonal skills
the endless patience there is anyway
the family get-togethers
the friend get-togethers
the introspective nights alone
the soundtrack to my life
the rare moments of confidence
the rise and fall of your chest
the cliche'ness of that last statement
the vivid green of a gray, rainy day
the uncontrollable smiling
the times when things are good
the dry swipes of skin to skin
the goosebumps and gasps
the terrible photographs and wonderful memories
the miraculous metamorphosis of maturity
the all-together feeling of alliteration
the laid-back feeling of lack of punctuation
the long, jagged columns I come up with



the only structure this has
the only thing I follow








my heart

♥

when life gives you lemons

seep and burn in the juice.

I feel like chugging Clorox bleach! Anyone want to take a guess as to why?

Hunter's pulling his "I'm not happy" bullshit when I've already denied all of his assumptions and proved my trustworthiness. A year ago today, I swore I'd never be a flirt again, and I've stayed true to my word. But no, he's still blaming me for making him paranoid and distrustful, when in anyone else's mind I should've already reversed that damage. What sucks the most is I'm not even surprised. Hunter never takes the blame. He'll blame everyone else around him for the little monster that he is, but he won't blame himself. Oh no. It's not his fault. Never his fault.

There are so many things wrong with him. Like I just said, he blames other people for causing him to have so many flaws, when he really just doesn't have the balls to accept that no one fucked him up but himself. He cannot empathize with all the pain I went through when he dumped me. He still can't accept that his reasons for ever breaking up with me, all three reasons, were flimsy and stupid. He's selfish. He blames me for being a worrywart about our relationship, when I have every reason to be, and he actually gave me the reasons to be. It's always HIS pain, MY fault, when it's really the other way around. But oh no, I'M the selfish one for thinking that. I was the one who cheated and shit, right? Bullshit, all I ever really did was talk to people! You want me to cheat?! I can show you cheating, buddy. I can give you a real problem to worry about. Fuck. Opportunities fell at my feet when we broke up last time. I wouldn't have to worry about feeling lonely, that's for fucking sure. It would be entirely your loss.

Damn it, I want nothing more than to brutally dump his childish, whiny little bitch ass right now, but it wouldn't help him achieve the enlightenment that I wish it would. He'd only use that against me when I inevitably take him back. And besides, I would never break anything off via internet. But even if I had him face to face, I just can't do it now. And definitely not as powerfully as I want to, i.e. sealed with a slap. I just can't do it. I'm too soft. To top it all off, he still thinks that HE'S the one that's suffering. That HE'S the one putting up with something unpleasant in this relationship. He'd think that I'd only break up with him because what he assumed is true and that I wanted to talk to this other guy. I don't. I want to break up with him because his immature ways are making me absolutely fucking miserable. And hell, I can count on both hands how many people would be happy that I finally cut him out of my life.

But I can't, can't, can't!

Hunter's moral backbone has severe scoliosis and I feel like I have to stick around and be his brace. If I don't expose him to what's right and untwisted, who will? How will he ever be able to find the light if there is no one to show him the way, never mind that it even exists? Even if I gave up, even if I left him and tried to find happiness elsewhere, I could meet someone else who is exactly like Hunter in every way but totally mature and untwisted and I still wouldn't be happy. I don't want the Hunter I'm with, but I only want the Hunter that I hope he will become. And no one else can be that person except him.

Unfortunately, no one else can help him become that person, either.

God, what am I gonna do? I just need a miracle. Just one miracle. It doesn't have to happen in a snap. That's TOO miraculous. But I need evidence that a slow miracle is in progress, that a happy, healthy relationship will be achieved eventually. I'm begging you, just give me a hint.

Is the fact that I can't be comfortable with letting him go my hint, or is it just because I'm too stupid and weak?




please halp

let be

Anxiety accompanied by lack of sleep has fucked my health right up the ass. I slept for thirteen hours today, although I have a feeling if I hadn't I'd be ill right now.

The only thing that need be said for this entry to sum up recent events is this passage from Hamlet:

Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.

And the fact that I am hoping -- no, praying -- for a fucking miracle.

progress

I believe I've made some.

In what exactly, I can't quite explain. But I feel like I'm brand new all over again.

Sorry for the lull...whoever reads. I'll write out the way I feel tomorrow, when my brain isn't so fogged over from lack of sleep.

mosquitos in the couch

I swear I was there for not much more than twenty minutes eating lunch and watching Scrubs and I got at least four new welts.

Wait, here's another on my thigh. Make that five. Evil little bastards.

I'm pretty sure I'm awesome right now. Scrubs always puts me in a good mood, especially the earlier episodes. Of course, I haven't seen a poorly written one yet; they're all delightfully human and hilarious and it is absolutely imperative that I acquire all the season DVDs when it ends or I might kill myself.

And a consistent stream of texts from various folk makes me happy, too. I feel enjoyed. Of course, seeing as I'm only charming and funny via writing I do make an excellent text buddy. A poor conversationalist when you can hear my voice, but I can really ping your pong when you read me.

...what?

good ol' jared

Hanna says (3:03 AM):
there is another thing you win at aside from constantly bringin' tha lulz
jared says (3:03 AM):
...wha?
Hanna says (3:03 AM):
jared says (2:26 AM):
i don't really win at anything
Hanna says (3:03 AM):
rong, lol
Hanna says (3:04 AM):
I think you make folks around you strive to be better people
Hanna says (3:04 AM):
that is a very big win
jared says (3:05 AM):
yes. i'm constantly putting off the vibe "don't do what i did."
Hanna says (3:05 AM):
lmao
Hanna says (3:06 AM):
that's not what I mean, that should be the vibe Jason puts off
Hanna says (3:06 AM):
"do not drink vodka and catch on fire"
jared says (3:06 AM):
lmao
Hanna says (3:07 AM):
I dunno, I think anybody with half a soul can tell that you're innately a good guy, and anybody with a whole soul will want to try and emulate that
Hanna says (3:08 AM):
or at least appreciate it
jared says (3:08 AM):
well..that makes me feel better, lol
Hanna says (3:09 AM):
I'm glad

violet violins violate violently and...vibrate

There aren't many words that begin with vio.

I've been crying off an on all morning and I'm really not even sure why. But when Hunter said hello everything seemed all right with him again. It was like this before, too. He regresses back to his old self for a few hours, and suddenly everything is okay by the next time we talk even though I'm still all geared up to act cool and indifferent. I always expect a fight to mean the end, because that's how it's always been, but he's starting to act like these bitchy spells never happened so I let down my guard.

I don't know if this is a sign of improvement or what. He said he used to let small things "get to him" and that's why he would dump me on a whim, and now I guess they don't "get to him." But I just don't like seeing bits and pieces of the old Hunter infiltrate the new Hunter, unless that means the old Hunter is on his way out and just appears in small windows every now and then. Maybe it's hard to control the old reaction, and after it passes he just wants to pretend it never happened?

At any rate, I feel alright now. The short crying spells only lasted till I talked to Hunter again. I guess I just felt like I was on that downhill slide again. But nowadays arguments don't lead to a decline; we stay on level ground and sometimes just step in a hole.

I overreacted a little in the previous entries. Not that what I said wasn't all absolutely true, and I am not taking back a single word. Except maybe some of the cursewords. I just get so frustrated, and write it all in such an angry way. Really, all of what I wanted to express can be summed up in a few lines: I don't know if he will ever understand what he does, or appreciate what he has. It's so draining to deal with and I just wish I could get in his head and open his eyes.

As far as current events, Jared's birthday party was as lulz-inducing as I expected it to be, and his cak was an absolute masterpiece. I got to hang with Breah one-on-one too, which was fun. I suppose not every female on the planet hates my guts; every new friend lately has been a girl. First Breah, then Abby, then Shena. I guess they just fit the self-security criteria. It's really nice.

I want to sleep out of boredom...but then I don't, because I feel like I should be doing something. Restless, hallo

yup yup, in the butt

that is where you should be fucked

You're at work right now. Hating your extremely easy job that I wouldn't have even half a problem with. I sure wish I could get paid for standing around and wiping tables.

I'm at home right now. Seething about how my boyfriend thinks he's putting up with a worthless piece of shit. I sure wish I could fall off a building because I'm sick of dealing with you but I don't want to bother with anyone else in the future so I'm stuck with you.

But at least you admit that you bitch a lot. You just haven't admit that you bitch about a lot of nothing. Surely you know that you're full of crap? The only thing that matters is us. The only thing that ever mattered was us. You always pull in a bunch of irrelevant shit and use it to make me look like a villain.

You want to know who the villain here is?

The guy who dumped me three times for no good reason at all. Yes, all three reasons were shit. None of that should have mattered. The guy who blames me for having a history of worrying too much, when I have more than enough reason to doubt him. The guy who is following his old pattern, who starts off incredibly perfect and then slowly but surely regresses back to the selfish, insecure wad he was before. The guy who takes a totally devoted girlfriend for granted and then thinks he was right in doing so. Because she was such a terrible girlfriend, and he just had to put up with sooo much terrible shit she did.

I don't think I need to tell you who the fucking villain here is.

What's your problem? I just spent two hours at Dairy Queen doing absolutely nothing when I could've been at Jonesboro doing something fun and fixing my relationship with my father. But did I jump at the chance to see you when he gave me the option to? Yes. I haven't seen you in over a month, after all. I would've taken anything at all. But what do I get in return?

"You've been doing shit and I don't trust you."

Oh really? Is that what you think? Well, fuck you, then.

I love you.

You are so blind.

"shit hanna does"

Hello, and welcome to the 23463862384532th installment of "Shit Hanna Does!"

I knew something was wrong from the way he looked at me. If he was still so fucking enthralled about being with me, he wouldn't have been able to stop smiling, the way I was. I always get giddy about seeing him.

Oh, but no. A long enough period of time has passed that Hunter begins to believe that "shit I've done" has built up. Except now that he wants to stay with me, he's going to act like he's making some kind of huge personal sacrifice because he's "dealing with all my shit." That might be what pisses me off the most. If anyone makes a sacrifice in this relationship, it is me. If anyone puts up with horrible shit in this relationship, it is me. If anyone gets dumped and framed as someone who is bad and should be dumped, it is me.

I am the purest, most devoted girlfriend he could possibly ask for. I'm not a whore. I'm no longer even a flirt. I have my guy friends, but they are very simply guy friends. I thought Hunter had matured enough to handle that. I certainly don't care that he has some girl friends. As long as he stays true to me, and doesn't hide anything important from me, I'm good. That's what I do, after all. And I thought that's how he would do it, too. Apparently he still has his old trust issues, even though there isn't anything not to trust me about anymore.

He also likes to get mad about anonymous applications because I can't really prove that I haven't done anything. But I really haven't, and shouldn't my word be proof enough? Shouldn't he just trust me in the first place, and know that even if I used some anonymous thing, I wouldn't be using it to do anything bad? How is that even relevant to our relationship to begin with!? It's all just for entertainment! That's what everybody uses it for! You'd be silly to take it seriously. But nope, everything is fair game when it comes to "Shit Hanna Does!"

Among other "Shit" that "Hanna Does!" includes: getting unlimited texting so she could text Melodie 24/7, not giving out her Myspace password and then not being able to give it out anyway because it will immediately be assumed that she did some huge cleanup beforehand, putting up too many photos on a mostly male forum community that she doesn't even pay attention to and hasn't been on in weeks anyway, making strange new friends even though strange people are the only kind of people she can get along with, having a bunch of other secret accounts exclusively for attention-whoring that she has no idea even exist, keeping folders within folders of hardxcore porn on her computer that she doesn't have a clue about either, and breathing.

God.

What happened to the Hunter from the first few weeks? The one who said hey, I'm going to reassure you. I'm going to get rid of all that doubt you have for me. I know that I did something really stupid, but I'm going to make it up to you. And I will never, ever break up with you again.

Now it's back to old Hunter. Old Hunter makes problems out of thin air and accuses me of doing shit on groundless suspicions. Old Hunter wouldn't trust me for a million dollars. I don't want old Hunter. I want the Hunter from the first few weeks. The one who understood that I worried for a reason. The one who trusted me. The one who didn't care about anything else but repairing our relationship. The one who absolutely showered me with affection and attention, and whose love I never doubted. The Hunter I've always wanted.

Just what the fuck happened to him? I really, really miss him. He needs to swoop in and rescue me from old Hunter and make me ridiculously happy all the time again.

I am so sick of old Hunter. I hope he drowns in a steaming vat of human waste. I want the Hunter from June back, and I want him to stay.

inconsiderate

Mm.

It's whatever, I put up with it. I'm just going to shut up and chill. S'what I do best.

Maybe write something aimless...


___


It wasn't like he always voiced his complaints. He'd approach an issue or worry in the least aggressive way possible, and his entire aim was always only to get some soft-hearted reassurance. He always got accused of being argumentative, though. "I guess," he figured, "it's hard to read gentleness through the pixels of a computer screen, especially when her autonomous response to any kind of conflict is a defensive stance. She's only known aggressive approaches."

So he'd take it, drop it, and live on wishing he'd worry less. But new thoughts had been crossing his mind since he turned eighteen. What had he to lose, anyhow? After being recycled so many times, it was becoming harder to tolerate it as much as he used to, and it seemed so needless and immature.

Especially with someone lingering in the back of his head.

A totally fresh complication. Such a contrast. It would bring an entirely new set of rules; a more indifferent attitude, balances between mild, passive sweetnesses and confident silences. A syncopation. His current rhythm used to switch between steady and frenzy, but things had calmed down considerably this time. It had a soft beat that grew ominous at times, but wasn't too unpredictable anymore. Just unsettling now and then. And the other rhythm...always interesting, always fulfilling. Thrilling and constant...and far more exhausting to keep up with.

He lost some sanity either way. He'd finally stopped dancing to the wild tempo of the early stages, and instead swayed with its new, calmer beat. But stepping onto the other dance floor meant a consistently energetic and unusual groove. Not only would he have to keep up, but he'd have to outdo the other dancers. And he'd have to achieve it all by being true to himself, or winning would be empty and any resulting relationship would be nothing but an elaborate lie. But making an impression without dressing up his personality a bit would be quite a job, considering his insecurity. He never had much faith in his charm, his wit. It always seemed to waver. He was quick with the written word, but not so charismatic with the spoken one.

Andy sat up and sat cross-legged in the center of his bed.

"How come I'm only interested in the unstable ones?"

His voice squeaked from a few hours' disuse. He reached for the Coke that had been sitting on his nightstand and chugged it. It had long since gone flat.

"God, I think too much."

___


Haha, cool. That came out of pretty much nowhere. I think I'd like to build on it next time I get some more floaty inspiration. Maybe get a love triangle going. I've never used a guy as the center char before, so this is new for me.

Also, I'm pulling out all the stops for Jared's birthday. Since my plan to get a facecake kinda fell through, I'm going to bake an actual cake and write "face" on it. And I'm also going to draw a Magikarp. Melodie just told me that he told her he wanted a clown, so I'm probably going to dress up as a clown too. Even though he's definitely probably not serious about the whole clown business. It would just be really funny.

I got pancaks on my birthday, so he shall recieve a facecak.

oh yay, Huntertexts! He used that "ily" thing that he did with Ashley, though...ew...eh...I guess he probably didn't think about it...

..quoi?

What a dream that was.

I went to some kind of end-of-summer party. It was at a ballpark. My classmates were all there with me, and we were all talking and having fun until someone tripped a switch and some kind of net came up over the ballpark and caught some dogs in it. We were all talking about who we should blame, and I said something about Ashley Temples (she's the pariah nowadays; everyone has finally caught on to her stupid game) but instead, everyone started ripping me apart. Some black girls I didn't even know were telling me about how they had talked to me about their problems, but I didn't offer anything helpful. They told me I was pessimistic and that was supposedly the entire reason no one liked me. I looked to Mallory for support, but didn't get that, and so I left.

I cried in my dream, but under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have cared that much about being cast out. I would just think they're all idiots and continue being myself. So I don't really know why I'm subconsciously insecure now. I guess because senior year starts in less than a month now, and I haven't really talked to anyone since school ended. But that's nothing new, I've never really been one to stay in touch over summers -- I travel the world, or I just...don't care. I guess because it's the last year and I'd rather be remembered as someone cool?

No, that can't be it. Some pretty diabolical plans have crossed my mind as far as senior wills go. I don't care what 90% of these people think of me; I'd verbally tear them to shreds at the first opportunity. But for the sake of surviving college, I don't think I should be readily making any enemies. You never know who will show up at my school.

Besides, I'm horrible at speaking. I falter and stutter and just sound stupid. I can only burn folks in writing.

:(

some old prose

Dug it up from my notebook. As I read it now, I suppose it sort of foretold all of the evolving I would do during the six week silence.


My heart rumbles and quakes like a broken washing machine.
I pry open my chest so I can reach inside and hold it still
and a sea of muted colors silently spills forth
it seeps into the grass like ink blotted on thick, wet paper
enveloping all that is vibrant in fine, black nets of veins
until every branch and blossom become permanent silhouettes.

And then comes the water, lucid gray mixed with melted glitter.
It furls and unfurls gracefully, in climbing columns of spirals and swirls
White froth rises and floats, altostratus clouds, sifted flour
The edges of the waves look too defined; almost pixelated
sharpened so much that there are flecks of pink
making every sway and splash harsh, cold, digital.

My heart pulls the tide lividly, erratically.
The waves thrash like wounded animals
eroding and consuming massive boulders
as if they dissolved as easily as mounds of salt.

There is water inside me, too.
Churning violently in my stomach
sloshing around the crests of my hip bones
infiltrating arteries and traveling to my shoulders
It is hot and nauseating, but it feels good
It feels alive. It is fear.

The water is coming.
I can't swim.

looming large

I remember when I was little I love to write stories in which I could describe a hi-tech, futuristic boarding school of some sort; complete with high-ceilinged library, coffee shops and cafeterias, a full description of every amenity in the main character's dorm room, and robots that delivered weekly salaries...because the point of the school was to train secret spy agents. I would even describe the leading lady's hair, eyes, complexion, outfit, personality, and her bag and all of its contents. The way I wrote it, not a single detail was left to the reader's imagination.

That was the funnest part to me; creating an entirely new place from scratch. Hell, I focused so much on setting the scene I hardly even had a storyline most of the time. I just painted pictures with elaborate nets of adjectives that I'd shuffle and sort until they fit into sentences halfway coherently(I still have that problem today, actually).

My characters were all flat and one-dimensional in a rich, three-dimensional world. The heroine was always fierce and independent, and had everything going for her. Excelled in her classes, saved the school in crises, so on and so forth. Her rival was always some blonde, domineering bitch with a prissy attitude. And the most sought-after guy in school always had a crush on her. I also had a weird thing about names; I didn't like to overuse any vowels. If the girl was a Sophie, the guy had to be a Jack, and the rival had to be a Lucy. I felt like different letters and sounds made writing seem more colorful, and feel somehow thicker in a sense. The way that Jane Eyre is written, it's like every page is full and iridescent, like healthy hair. That's what I always wanted to achieve. Not a word or sound out of place or overused.

Anyway, I digress. I was always, always, always about writing exactly how I pictured a place looked like.

Now, as senior year and college fast approach, the customized dormitories and theater-esque lecture halls are becoming more than just figments of a young, wishful imagination.

I know exactly what I want my dorm to look like.

Bold, contrasting colors on my bedspread. I'm thinking something along the lines of teal and a deep, purplish blue. Or maybe just printed with some goofy, obscure cartoon, like Ren and Stimpy. A funky little alarm clock, shaped like an apple, and a phone shaped like a banana. Solid black bookshelves. Curtains fashioned from plaid flannel. A moon lantern, like the one in the room I'm sitting in right now, that's just bright enough to be able to read and dim enough to cast kind of an ambient glow on everything when night falls. Me, hair disheveled and sitting cross-legged on the bed, bathed in a stream of morning light and tapping away on...this blog, maybe?

I wonder, if I keep up with this till then, what I'll think when I look back on this entry as a freshman in college? How far will I have come?

soapy meditation

Last night while I soaked in the tub, I realized that lately I've lost my cool.

I got past all the worrying and fretting about small things back during the six week silence, why did I regress back to that? I had become a really laid-back person, and stopped being the neurotic little wad I always used to be. My catchphrase was "it's whatever" and I never let anything ruffle me. Even after Hunter and I got back together, I didn't care about what he had done or the girls he'd be around. I was just happy to be with him and trusted that he would stay, and if he didn't, then I would just be able to consider him an idiot and wait on him to come back again.

Regardless of how I lost it, I have decided to get it back. I really liked that version of myself. All calm, collected, and totally with the flow. Never worried, always chill. It probably wavered when I went to New York and kept thinking I would get dumped again the way I got dumped the last time I traveled. But I didn't, and things are as if I'd never left. Also, the day before, Hunter talked so nonchalantly about going to California for college, putting 1700+ miles between us, that I can only assume he's got no problem at all with staying with me despite a major distance. So why should I have a problem with...anything? If he's got faith, I should, too. Worrying would be such a waste of synapses.

Back to the old mantra.



It's whaaaaaateverrrrrrrrr.









Mmmmmmmmmmmmhmmmm, that feels much better

it's about time I wrote a really long title for something because I never write really long titles for my blog entries so here we go.

This is kind of disgusting to talk about, but my leg hair is getting to the point where it is going to be waxable sometime soon. And if that works out, I won't have to shave for weeks! The tricky part will just be figuring out how to use the wax kit properly. I can weather pain no problem, I just don't want to do it wrong and waste twenty bucks.

I've been thinking about how I'd like to design my house. I know I don't want to do any major decorating, I like things nice and simple and minimal. Bold, solid colors for furniture. Nothing too light that will become obviously dirty, and no busy patterns. I want things to look modern with kind of a funky twist. Like the way I dress, really.

The only decorative room will be my studio, where there will be photos and guitars and bookshelves all over the walls and a great big grand piano. And I'll keep my computer in there, and all my manuscripts and everything. Oh, and I'm sure Hunter will hang out there with me. Everything I like to do in one place.

..if you get what I mean... ;)

Haaaahahaha.

Anyhow, those are part of my big plans for a big life someday. But right now I just feel like listening to music. And I really need to clean my room.