My Life as a Feminist Jane Austen Novel

I think I am going to drop this blog like a fucking hot potato

2011-09-29T17:11:00.001-07:00

Cause I am paranoid for awesome fucking reasons. I kind of hate google a little bit, why the fuck does it do this to me?

Fat

2011-09-22T10:53:00.001-07:00

I fear nothing more than getting fat.

I'd rather get fat than be tortured to death and then have my rotting corpse fucked (I've been thinking about Ted Bundy.) But I obsessively fear getting fat and it's way more likely than being tortured by a serial killer.

Fat runs in the family, at least the women. I'd say of my fourteen aunts, ten of them are overweight. Maybe four of those ten are obese. My mother is overweight, my grandmother is overweight, women seem to come in one size only. The men, well, they luck out a little. They are at most a little chubby and my dad is a rail.

To say it politely, the likelihood I will become a big fat fatty in the future is higher than I might like. I have genes stacked up against me it seems. People in my family are more likely to be fat. Maybe we inherit some impulse to eat more, exercise less, maybe our metabolisms are sluggish, maybe we are just lazy people (though this I know to be mostly a lie, especially in regards to weight. Most of my family works hard trying to lose weight.)

Not only does this work against me, but my immediate family has weird views about food. Eating is something you do only on a schedule, treats are rare at best and then small. Our eating schedule has always been erratic. Our attitudes about food are weird. But we do eat incredibly healthy. Lots of produce, a large portion home grown. No wheat, little artificial or processed, not a lot of dairy. But at the same time, strict rules about food always made it even more appealing as a kid. I would go to friend's houses and freak when they had, of all things, desert on top of a man meal of meat and potatoes. Valentine's and Halloween, I would try to acquire as much candy as possible and hide my stash from my mother, eating it at night under the covers of my bed. I would eat with other people and secretly be spazzing out internally cause god, eating food was heaven, and I'd try to eat as much as I could without feeling like a hog or attracting attention. Food was almost as naughty as sex. I feared it and adored it.

I have spent my whole life craving food. There is rarely a day I go without a burning desire to eat one thing or another. Today, I would just about do anything for carbs, cause my low moods are temporarily elevated by them.

This weird relationship with food I've had has done nothing good. About January, when my depression started to rapidly escalate from a nagging melancholy to full on "I can't leave my bed" despair. I started hating food. It was repulsive, nauseating. I couldn't choke it down, it was all too dry, too salty, too sweet, revolting. I pretty much stopped eating. I stayed up all night crying, slept all day, never left the apartment, or really my room, and I'd eat maybe a meal and a small snack, because otherwise the hunger would get out of hand. I actually gained weight, oddly enough, probably because I refused to move.

This continued until I dropped out of school and moved back home. I started eating, but still only miniscule amounts. By the time I tried to kill myself I usually only ate dinner and sometimes breakfast. Then I was forced into eating three enormous and disgusting hospital food meals a day for a week. I was not pleased.

When I got out of the hospital, things started looking up in most respects. Suddenly, I was hot or desirable or something. I had four dates a week! I was funny and charming and a flirt. I had a cool therapist. I was way cool and badass because I got my cartilage pierced and I had scars from cutting (so not badass guys) and I realized cleavage can get you almost anywhere.

Of course my food habits slumped again. Started eating less and less, hiding my eating habits. I needed control, more than I had because I knew one more episode with my parents could land me back where I started. I could control how much I ate, even if everything else in my life was shaky. So I stopped eating mostly. I was surprisingly not very hungry. I started biking, five miles a day minimum. I was on fire, I was energized and losing fat and gaining muscle and I didn't need food cause who needs food?!

Oddly, my body didn't really factor in until later. I mean, Paul was telling me I was hot and I got naked in front of him and didn't kill his boner. I felt pretty good about my body. I knew I was less skinny than people like, but I had an ideal waist to hip ratio and great tits and a squeezable ass. If anything worried me it was my skin, not my size, all of my stupid scars terrified me.

I don't know what spurred my insecurity about my body. On day I looked at myself naked and was kind of disgusted with myself. I was so pale and flabby and gross. Fuck, how could anyone be attracted to me? Was I just such a pathetic lazy slob that I couldn't bother being attractive? I started weighing myself daily and I started having urges to purge. I couldn't be fat, I couldn't let myself be fat.

Everytime I ate I felt guilt. I was such a weak person, I couldn't even keep myself healthy. I was lazy and weak willed and ugly. It took me a while to see I had a problem.

Needless to say, realizing I was messed up was horrible. I have always preached about how eating disorders are horrible, life altering problems. I swore up and down I would never have one. I couldn't tell anyone about it. Instead, I started a nasty cycle of starving myself and then overeating out of guilt and frustration.

I'd go a week starving myself and someone would tell me I looked skinny and I'd beam and see that it was working until I realized my thinness was achieved through less than healthy means. Then I would eat and eat and eat.

My best friend has struggled with EDs and I went to her. To some extent, she's been helpful. She feeds me often when I'm around her. She reassures me that I'm attractive and not fat. But even she says things that frustrate and worry me.

Anyway, at this moment I am incredibly hungry. It's late at night and I can't sleep because I am so hungry and this has been how I've felt for weeks now, even when I am trying to eat normal. I've lost five pounds since Friday, I don't know why. I'm crabby and hungry and really tired all the time.

Right now I am at my thinnest. But it's still not quite good enough. I still have a stomach and my butt isn't cute enough, and my calves are gross and my upper arms flabby.

Just the other day I talked to George about my eating disorder issues. I told him about my problems with food and he was surprisingly good about it. I didn't really go into my issues with my body though. But now I'm really scared because he's let some weird opinions about weight slip out a few times.

What if I meet him in person and he looks at me and thinks I'm fat? What if me naked isn't what he wanted or expected and he's not actually attracted to me even though he can get it up for me over long distance without even seeing skin? What if he thinks I'm lazy and a slob and a fat lazy slob?

What if I'm hot to him now, but in two years I've put on twenty pounds and he stops being attracted to me? Or then he thinks I'm disgusting and lazy and thinks less of me? What then? I can't keep starving myself forever, I know this, because my body is already feeling it. My periods are late and short with little blood. The likelihood I'm going to put on weight as soon as I eat healthy is high.

He tells me I should eat healthy but what if that ruins me for him? He has issues with being underweight, he can eat terribly and maintain his weight but maintaining my weight is incredibly hard. I want to be with him forever, as stupid as that sounds, I want to love him forever and I can't continue this way forever. Fatness seems inevitable. My frame isn't delicate, by body seems to cling to all the fat it can get, I have a history of it in my family, and I have messed up views about food.

I don't like weighing close to as much as he does, and weighing more than him terrifies me. I want to be his sexy, adorable girl forever, not his unattractive, fat girlfriend. Maybe he thinks the eating disorder means I'm going to be thin and thin forever. I love him to death but I'm so scared that he's going to find me gross at some point in time, or you know, the wild sex we talk about will never happen because he's not physically attracted to me or he'll do a "lose weight or I dump you" ultimatum.

To all this, my BFF says "you won't get fat." Very helpful, I know. I just won't get fat. No, I know me getting fat is almost inevitable. I'm anorexic and I'm still not skinny. You can't see my ribs, my clavicles are still undefined under a layer of fat. She doesn't say "lookit, this boy is madly in love with you, George won't think less of your because you struggle with weight cause so does he." Because she probably knows that's not true. I am going to get fat and George is going to think less of me for it, especially when I have an eating disorder and talk to him often about my bike riding and sporty endeavors. He's going to expect me to be thin and hot forever, and when I turn into a gelatinous blob, he's going to be shocked and disgusted and dump me, no matter how much he loves me now.

God damn it all, I need to find a fat boy or something. Or fatten George up somehow or find a way to be skinny forever. Or I should talk to my therapist about this. He'd eat it up. But he's fat, I don't want to hurt his feelings. I'd talk to my mom but she's got weight issues herself and I don't want to hurt her feeling and I could talk to my doctor but he's incompetent. And my dad wouldn't understand and my aunts would just tell my mom and then nobody but my BFF and my therapist know about George, so I couldn't even reveal all my insecurities. :( God damn it, I should probably just tell George but I'm so scared to even broach the topic and I don't know, I'm going to go eat cause I'm going to get fat anyways.

So since all the drama is wrapping up, here's the story.

2011-09-19T15:20:00.001-07:00

I have had quite the love life the last few months thus I feel the impulse to document it all. So I will list all the boys and whatever.

1. Charles was incredibly handsome, well read and an Aspie, all things I adore (Men with Aspergers are a delight, I'm not even kidding, they're the cream of the crop, way smarter, funnier and sweeter.) He was a college and high school drop out who read Rilke and loved movies, an aspiring screen writer. He had hot legs, a lovely amount of facial hair, and an endearing smile. We went to a French bakery, and talked and talked for hours, about eveything and I wore the bright purple pants from my salwar kameez with simple black heels and my Nefertiti earrings, and for once, makeup and he was freshly showered and smelled clean and perfect. I was immediately infatuated. He disappeared after that first date for a few weeks, appeared again to tell me he definitely had Aspergers, and made plans he never pulled through on. Finally, we made plans to go to the arts festival. He was even better than I remembered him to be. He was so smart and dynamic and by the end of the night I was a giggly mess, and I told him all about all of my silly ambitions as we traipsed around the city and he listened patiently and smiled and agreed with me, reassured me when I expressed my distaste for my age (he had all of four years on me). I got home and he texted me about how he couldn't wait to see me again and told me he was infatuated with me as well, and I went to bed happy beyond belief, excited because the perfect boy liked me. And then he stopped answering emails and texts and I was hopeful and disappointed. Finally, he sent me a note explaining that he had intended to respond but he was scared that he would mess up and I didn't want to encounter his social problems and sexual issues and I maybe cried because I hate dating and now I sometimes think about him cause he was fucking awesome.

2. Brad. He was a nice enough fellow, and I told him about my attraction to Hitler over Coldstone. I guess I liked him well enough, but there wasn't that much of an attraction on my part. I think he liked me more than I liked him, he asked me out again and we made plans to go to a movie, which he had to cancel because he broke his hand. We made plans quite a few times, never pulled through. He told me that he put on Nirvana while he was having sex, "Come as You Are" being his favorite.

3. Mike was a tall, awkward fellow who I took to the park, I think I weirded him out with my brashness and forceful personality. We got along nicely, similar ideals but I didn't like Radiohead as much as he did. He also disappeared, leaving me no way to contact him. Not that I minded.

5. Paul was a pothead who loved his dog more than anyone and anything in the world. I don't know how to describe him. He called me his perfect girl for a while and then it didn't work out that way. He kissed me on the first date in the backseat of his car, beard gruff against me, hands wandering lower and I didn't mind. He was hardly attractive by most standards, but he had long hair that he let me touch, weaving it through my fingers and even his sweat smelled amazing. He would pull me so close to him, face in my neck and we'd watch Netflix curled against each other. He was a little chauvinistic, but I dismissed it. He insisted I couldn't be a feminist because my views were so egalitarian, and I was submissive (something he adored) and I mostly just avoided gender issues around him. He whipped me once with his belt (it was consensual and awesome) and when I didn't cry he was astonished and told me his ex started bawling after a few strikes and I just grinned and rolled over. We texted all day every day until his replies slowed and finally stopped. A few days ago, he told me he'd been trying to get in touch with me and he was sure I'd killed myself and he was furious with me for making him feel so guilty.

6. Jack was yet another Aspie, and a brony. We bonded over Rarity and Pinkie Pie and Cupcakes. He was nice and affable, and tall, 6"3. We spent our first date wandering around, lying on the grass in front of a church. He was slightly awkward, but I hardly minded. We're JUST FRIENDS now though my BFF insists that is IMPOSSIBLE, we send each other pony related links.

7. Nate was also tall 6"6 and big and that was pretty cool. We went to the dinosaur museum and I told him more than I usually spill and I guess I really liked him. He had six years on me, and I think he found me confusing. I found him posting about our date on reddit a few days before and I commented and he seemed a little shocked, and I laughed it off, no big deal. I told him about my leg hair and he had me pull up my leggings so he could feel it. We texted for ages and then I cut out on him because of the incapacitation of my phone and he probably thinks I'm a bitch but it's not like it would have worked, he's moving in November and I didn't want to do a LDR.

8. Alexander was an exmo, took me hiking, and it was swell. He told me I was gorgeous and he wasn't exaggerating, and that he'd been tentative about me but I was better than he expected. He was smart, the most level headed person I dated and my parents would have liked him for being mild and responsible. He was only 21 too, a perk. I sweated and panted in front of him and didn't mind. I'm afraid to say I might have cut him off accidentally with that same phone incident, but he hasn't bothered finding me via other means, so while we might have worked out amazingly, I'll never know.

9. Frederik (Aspie and kinky as fuck) is an old Dutch fellow. He's liberal (duh, Dutch), very nicely so, and he's flattering and kind and direct and I like that. He lives in Holland, far away, and he listens to my problems graciously and I don't know his intentions.

10. And then there's my darling boy who's name is the masculine version of mine so we'll call him George and pretend I'm Georgina and guess what, he lives in NY and I've never met him in person and I resent it every day. He's so amazing and at first I thought he was a tiny bit of an arrogant prick but I still liked him, and he's a hilarious, feminist, vegetarian actor with impeccable taste in music and women. ;) And now I'm head over heels for him and adore him beyond belief and so what he's old and far away. And after lots of boy drama, I am delighted I found him cause he's my dream boy and I love him to pieces and he makes me incredibly happy and well, it seems silly and maybe irrational but you know what, I don't care cause logically he's perfect for me and he's amazing and clever and all mine. Muahahaha. And secretly I hope I love him forever, and that I get him entirely forever. But I'm still on the DL about him, only said BFF knows about him and she makes fun of me even though she's in love a 30 year old virgin who she refuses to date but she wants his babies and he lives in PA while she's here in Utah so I don't take her seriously.

God that's a lot of drama no one gives a shit about.
Tl;dr: Dating sucks. People are confusing and dynamic and I'm a shitty person, but you know, sometimes things work out and I HAVE MYSELF THE MOST PERFECT MAN EVER wahaha!

S&M (or why you can be feminist and submissive.)

2011-05-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

I just started dating non Mormon guys. Maybe you don't see the big deal, but after 18 years of being told that sex is bad, I all of a sudden have to face it, and not just a little. I've realized that dating atheists and agnostics means I have to be aware that sex is a big deal, and something I may very well encounter soon. Few boys are going to date a girl who refuses to be physically intimate, and while I find the prospect of losing my virginity intimidating, it's also exciting.

I've slowly eased myself into talking about sex, confronting the topic early on and diffusing the tension. I confront my lack of experience with boys it might get serious with, I talk about my views on sexuality. It's slowly helped me realize who I am sexually.

I know I'm hardly qualified to talk about sex, being a goddamn virgin and all. But I must admit something. I find BDSM super hot.

It's out. My secret is not so much a secret. Yes, boys, I do in fact come off as super kinky. Worship me.

The bigger secret is I consider myself submissive.

Oh God, it's the truth. Yes, I'm a feminist, and yes, I like sexual domination. Why? I have no idea.

This makes me popular with boys. I know one who would jump in bed with me at the first word, and another who wouldn't be unwilling, because the idea of a girl, a feminist no less, being submissive is apparently the hottest thing since hell. They'll excuse my unshaven legs because damn, being blindfolded sounds so sexy and I wouldn't mind being tied up, and apparently my kind is rare.

Do I sometimes find this problematic? Every day. I'm not a submissive person in general, I do whatever the hell I want, and the fact that I fantasize about that lack of control tends to unsettle my very core beliefs.

I am so staunchly against rape, and yet I find myself fantasizing about it. I like having jurisdiction over my own sexuality, but I want to be teased and humiliated. I want to leave sexual power to my partner, while I want to take my sexuality into my own hands.

I want to surrender to someone else more than anything, and I'm still a feminist. Why? Because feminism is all about CHOICES. If I choose to have my partner dress like Hitler and fuck me like a slut*, that's feminist because it's my choice, it's between me and my partner. I'm allowed to have sexual preferences. If I don't want to play dom, that's fine. If I do, that's fine. If I want to be handcuffed and jostled, that's my decision.

Just like it's okay for me to want to be a doctor or a lawyer, it's okay for me to want to be submissive. It's okay for me to have a Nazi fetish. It's okay for me to daydream, and masturbate and lose my virginity. It's my CHOICE, just like it's your CHOICE what you do and like. I am not a bad feminist because, as Katy Perry sings, I want him to "take me, wanna be a victim, ready for abduction."

So, maybe I don't always like my preferences. But I'm coming to terms with myself. Maybe I'll be ready when the time comes. Maybe I'll meet that perfect boy and we'll hit it off and have super kinky sex all night. And he'll be considerate and let me choose what I'm willing to do and it will be awesome.

*I don't generally like the word slut, especially since it's used to demean women, but I do dirty talk. I could expound, but I don't use the word in normal conversation.

Hospitals, probable insanity, the male gender, etc, etc.

2011-05-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

April 27th I tried to kill myself, foolishly enough by taking a shitton of prescription pills. About an hour after doing so, I realized there was no way in hell that would actually kill me, and it would probably just leave me sick for ages, so I guess I turned myself in. I was committed to the psych ward (which was so not as bad as everyone says) and spent a week locked up with literally no privacy.

Just before trying to commit suicide, I joined OkCupid (God, I know.) And I met a number of adorbs boys and have been on three dates in the past WEEK. Seriously. So as soon as I got out of the hospital, I get cards and flowers from family, and then get asked out repeatedly. Unusual, to say the least.

ANYWAY, there is one boy in particular (he's four years older, which sometimes weirds me out) but he is quite the amazing fellow. Uncannily attractive, incredibly smart, liberal and feminist, amazingly fabulous on so many levels. I went out with him on Tuesday and we spent literally five hours talking. He's incredibly charming and now I have a mild case of infatuation (oh, God, he told me that he was slow in responding because he likes me a lot (WHAT DOES IT MEAN)) that is getting better over time, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to drive an hour to see him.

OH GOD BOYS LIKE ME ALL OF A SUDDEN. WHAT THE HELL? So yeah. Let's call this fellow Kurt because I feel like it. Anyway, he apparently has a mild case of Asperger's and knows I've tried to kill myself and still is not frightened away. Does that make him a winner? Yes. Does that mean that my BFF in the world has set his face as the background on her computer? Again yes.

Ah, contentment. Where have you been for six months?

Life is Still Falling Apart

2011-04-24T21:05:00.000-07:00

You know Kurt Cobain? That fantastic member of the band Nirvana? Smells Like Teen Spirit, Heart Shaped Box, Pennyroyal Tea? He shot himself, died at 27, about a year after my birth. He was bipolar. He's dead, and he died quite romantically.

I want to go out with a figurative bang. My dreams of suicide are always vivid and beautiful. I theorize, plan, plot, ready, talk myself out of it, talk myself back into it. Obviously, I haven't done it. But I dream about what it would be like to take my own life in my bathtub, all alone late, late at night, with the lights out, my head cradled by the lip of the tub.

I occasionally clean my room just so that when I die, it's easier to take care of, less incriminating. I will delete my browser history, my cookies, my pathetic poetry, my sad stock of stories. I will clear all of my accounts, leave passwords to anything important in a word document, open alone, with a few directions. I will organize stuff by sentimentality, I will make my bed, take out my trash, I will make sure everything is perfect.

The ride to the hospital will be futile, I will be long gone, my body still and cold. They will not embalm me for the sake of showing off my corpse one more time, I will be cremated, my ashes scattered in Philadelphia and on the Ganges river, a city I love and a river I've always wanted to see. My funeral will be no fuss, cheap, practical, everyone wearing their favorite outfit and they will play Nirvana, Johnny Cash, and David Bowie. And no one will cry, and no one will talk about heaven or God. No one but my family will show up.

My clothes will be given to anyone who want them, my pearls to my mother, my jewelry to my friends and anyone I like. My parents will take back the gifts they've given me, my large stuffed horse will go to my little sister. My brother will take my iPod, my father my computer, my books will rot in my room as long as they like. My iTunes library will be long forgotten. My journals before a certain era will go to my best friend, one to my ex, the rest to whoever cares to read them. Maybe I will leave them this blog as silly as it seems.

Winston Rowntree will write a charming comic about suicide and life and death. Slowly, no one will feel bad about losing me. My family will make my room an office, my cat will forget I existed, I will be remembered as that freak who killed herself and no one will worry. I will be at peace. Once or twice people will wonder what happened to me, but overall, they won't care enough to find out. Maybe I will go to hell, or maybe I will cease to exist, or maybe I will be reincarnated as a gopher, ready to live a simpler, easier life.

And overall, my death will be so insignificant, that nothing will change, and everyone would forgive me for it, eventually.

Elude

2011-02-09T22:43:00.000-08:00

This game is pretty much the most fucking depressing thing ever. But that's the point. And I keep playing it over and over and over.

And it is a game you can't win, which is frustrating as hell, but I think it is worth the experience.

At this moment my roommates are making orgasm noises very loudly. Fuck this, anti anxiety/ sleeping pill, I am not going to be able to sleep.

2011-02-09T14:48:00.000-08:00

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Blog post about toilet, however, came back Stephen King, letter I didn't write Dan Brown, this post came back as Jane Austen, probably because I say her name so many times (I write nothing like her), Chuck Palahniuk popped up once, never even read anything by him. A lot of my fantasy writing comes back as Anne Rice, some things popped up Gertrude Stein, my huge novel in progress that I have been on and off with since 13 is James Joyce. But the writing I feel most comfortable with, that is the most me continues to come back Cory Doctorow. I kind of see the similarities from the little I've read of him.

Also, never once got Stephanie Meyer, but once I typed gibberish and it came back as her. Booyah!

YAY!

2011-02-03T19:19:00.000-08:00

I have had a good week. My distress scores have gone down 14 points (though they are still high) and I have told a total of 3 people in just the last week about my depression. That ramps it up to six people I know personally who are aware of this, three of which I rarely see, but who actually seem to care about me.

Just having someone know is really beneficial, and being able to see that you are not the only one is so relieving that I don't feel that bottomless pit of aloneness to the same extreme.

I had a meeting with my therapist today, and after I felt fantastic. I still bask in the afterglow of happiness. I made a chart thing.

How I imagine my future:

2011-02-02T04:11:00.000-08:00

I get my undergrad done in a little over a year and a half.
For that period of time I live with Jane.
My antidepressants work.
I get decent grades.
I maybe take a two year break, volunteer for a hospital, work, study up for the MCAT.
Maybe live with Loren.
Apply to medical school.
Get into medical school.
Go wherever I get in.
Meet someone nice in medical school.
He is probably too old for me.
Date him seriously, maybe move in with him.
End up breaking up for some reason.
Get my own place.
Get a cat.
Finish schooling, including residency etc, become a legit doctor.
Meet another nice guy. We become good friends, I fall in love with him, he is gay.
Get another cat to fill the void.
Debate going back to guy number 1.
Don't do it.
Debate adopting a baby.
Don't do it for a while.
Nearing 40, unmarried. Fucking adopt that baby.
Raise that baby to be a kick ass kid, and a super teenager.
Send that kid to college.
Be depressed cause I miss my kid, but rest assured kid is doing well.
Kid becomes something like an artist, or a lawyer.
Kid gets a significant other, they have a kid.
I meet my soul mate at 60. We get married.
I wear a kimono for the wedding.
My grandkid becomes kickass and awesome.
My husband is a fantastic dude.
I don't have to worry about birth control with him, cause post menopause suckers!
I retire.
We both take up awesome hobbies.
I get my sweet house, and a sweet car.
I get old, die before I can't take care of myself, in my sleep, sometime not long before or after my husband. Yay!

Dear Everybody:

2011-02-01T20:56:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I think anymore because I don't feel like I exist anymore. Considering about three people average acknowledge my existence a day, I think this is a rational feeling.

I can't argue, because there's no passion behind it. I don't like books or conversation. I don't like class, I don't like boys, I don't like clothes.

My new bras should make me happy, but I don't care that I am bargain lady whose boobs are feeling nice today. I am really tired, so tired that I don't feel like doing anything. Except type blog posts that nobody reads.

Anyway, everybody, you guys hurt my feelings a lot. You talk about me behind my back. You forget I exist, when months ago we were "best friends". You don't care how I feel. You don't make a point to help me when I need it. You wouldn't notice if I suddenly disappeared. And that's maybe part of the reason I feel like dying.

You guys make it obvious that I am unimportant to you. You pretend that I am a daughter of God and that you love me, but the fact that you only talk to me to borrow a vacuum and fill a quota makes me realize that it's a lie.

What the fuck am I even talking about?

Things to do:

2011-02-01T20:44:00.000-08:00

Get an eyebrow ring asap and a cartilage piercing.
Tattoos.
Eat a truffle. (The mushroom, idiot.)
Visit India, Egypt and England.
Get engaged, but not necessarily married.
Have an awesome roommate of the same gender.
Have an awesome roommate of the oposite gender.
Be goddamn happy again.
Use my reproductive organs (this is tentative).
Have a sweet house.
Get healthy for like a year at least.
Find the perfect pair of heels.
Wear rings.
Write a novel.
I will expand this some day.

I am learning how to be funny.

2011-02-01T13:45:00.000-08:00

So, I will tell you a funnyish story.

As you may know, I hate my apartment. Mostly because of my roommates, but for other reasons as well. The main one being our toilet. At my parent's house, both the toilets are the heavy duty ones that can flush down, like, fifteen pingpong balls and manage my sibling's massive dumps and yards of toilet paper. We got them after the toilets flooded the bathrooms a number of time because our family doesn't get enough fiber or something.

(I am not that squeamish about poop. I would discuss bowel movements more often if it didn't traumatize people. Also, I love gory hospital stories, telling them at least. This is why I will never get married.)

Anyway, my toilet is a weakling. It struggles to function normally, and it can handle pee very well, as long as you don't wipe. That's sort of an exaggeration.

Like a normal human being, I have to poop. I have learned to poop in school bathrooms (they have industrial toilets) and flush intermediately. (Ew, I'm getting way too personal.)

Either way, my toilet doesn't like poop, and occasionally clogs. When it is just poop, plunging usually works just fine. It takes a few strokes, and yay! Toilet cleared.

BUT. The toilet doesn't do tampons. REALLY REALLY doesn't do tampons. My roommates probably have industrial strength toilets at home so they flush their tampons (and any plumber will tell you that is a big no-no.) Our shabby little toilet is overwhelmed by tampons.

All the most stubborn clogs happen around their periods. See what I'm getting at?

Also, I am totally innocent of tampon flushing. I don't use tampons bitches! I am like Menstrual Women, superheroine in control of her period! Seriously, I haven't had a leak since I switched to my Diva Cup.

So, I go pee (girls pee) and flush and oh dear it's clogged and overflowing AND THUS NOT MY FAULT and Aphrodite is on her period! I sense a disturbance in the force. I get to plunge the toilet for ten minutes. I try the soap and hot water method. I do everything in the book that I can.

And then I tell them not to use the toilet and we get maintenance to come in with a snake. It takes about a day to fix this toilet problem.

So, Friday night Aphrodite and Eliza were out and I needed to use the toilet. Do my business, flush, it overflows. Not my fault again. I pull out my repertoire of toilet tricks, none work. And then I hear an unraveled coat hanger is a fool proof way to unclog your toilet. I get one from my closet, straighten it, poke it in the toilet as instructed and fuck it gets stuck. I cannot yank it out, wiggle it out, pretend it didn't happen, etc.

It has been a bad day so far. I am imagining my roommates coming home and finding me wrestling with a coat hanger that is stuck in our toilet. No doubt there will be boys with them. The boys will laugh at the fact I can't even unplug a goddamn toilet. I will become an even greater laughing stock.

(Did I tell you that I farted in the bathroom once and Eliza told everyone in detail about how I farted? Like, while I was in the other room. FARTING IN THE BATHROOM IS FUCKING NORMAL. Thus I became famous for farting in the bathroom. What the hell is wrong with Eliza? Aphrodite is an entitled brat, but Eliza is a bitch.)

So, I start sobbing and I look online for answers. I call my dad, and tell him what's wrong. He's busy, as he has a life, but he agrees to come help me.

And he comes over, thank god. He has to stick his hand into the toilet and use all his muscle to wrench that hanger out. I am still crying. He uses his heavy duty tools to unplug the toilet, and tells me that the block in the toilet is more than poop, because it's too solid and wedged in.

I get all angry with my roommates because they are flushing stuff that shouldn't be flushed. I can't stop crying. I am stressed and frustrated. I failed my bio test earlier.

My dad, being the angel he is, asks me if I want to go for a ride in the car. I say yes, change my shoes and then two boys I goddamn hate start pounding at the door. Like not knocking. Pounding, and they won't stop until I open the door and snap "They're not here" and close the door in their face. They can probably tell I have been crying and am fucking pissed.

My dad is surprised at how rude they are and I sulk out to the van. We go get gas, and then, because I don't eat dinner ever, he takes me out for Chinese. I love my dad so much.

And now I have a funny story to tell, even though it was traumatizing and isn't even that funny now that I read it. Shit.

BUT my roommates are proven to be idiots and I am going to tmi them and inform them of the fact that they flush stuff they shouldn't and awkward them out and feel superior because I DON"T USE TAMPONS FUCKERS!

Guess what? it is 3 am!

2011-02-01T02:07:00.000-08:00

Tonight has been good. I texted my new bff who is dry and sarcastic and so like me it's fucking scary. We made a tentative plan. When I finish school (ASAP I hope) she and I will move in together. She is pregnant, so she will have a kid, but I think that is all right with me. I really like her a lot.

We are so similar in many ways. I love that we both struggle with depression/anxiety/etc. and neither of us considers ourselves mormon any more.

Also I have to poop bad but I don't want to!

Oh god you can tell I'm exhausted but I can't sleep. Goddamn depression.

ALSO I GOT TWO NEW BRAS TODAY! Oh yeah, and they were 12 bucks each suckas!

And I finally bought food. Ps. I don't like redvines very much anymore after eating ton of them. Hahahahahahaha. I feel terrible it is late.

2011-01-16T19:26:00.001-08:00

Confessional poetry

2011-01-15T13:50:00.000-08:00

seems to mean that you probably suffer from mental illness, namely depression, or will commit suicide.

Let's look at the list:
Anne Sexton- bipolar, killed herself
Sylvia Plath- depressed, killed herself
Robert Lowell- bipolar
John Barryman- depressed, alcoholic, killed himself
Allen Ginsberg- mother schizophrenic, close friend depressed
Theodore Roethke- drank heavily, depressed

And I really enjoy confessional poetry, which is maybe a shit fucked sign because this means I am really mentally screwed up. And thus I leave you to wonder what the hell is this girl talking about?

Now, did you know Jim Carrey has struggled with depression for a large chunk of his life? Maybe I should be a comedian.

Oh poo, I am writing poetry

2011-01-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

A villanelle in fact. I don't do structure in poems, so this was challenging. It may sound terrible, but it was haaaaaaarrrrrrrrddddddd.

Numb

Her dreams blend with the chiming of the clock,

Who, who? the cry of a mourning dove,

Eyes turn to stone, her cold heart a rock.

The sky shatters into a billowing flock,

Fingers slipping from the single glove,

Her dreams blend with the chiming of the clock.

His numb hands caress the golden lock,

And she can swear there’s been no God above,

Eyes turn to stone, her cold heart a rock.

The silent ring of velvet chords of Bach,

Her life to end with one tired shove,

Her dreams blend with the chiming of the clock.

In that last second their hands interlock,

And she sees she’d never lost her love,

Eyes turn to stone, her cold heart a rock.

Watching from the silent, frozen dock,

He weeps for the life she is free of,

Her dreams blend with the chiming of the clock,

Eyes turn to stone, her cold heart a rock.

I love Sylvia Plath

2011-01-14T10:42:00.001-08:00

Mad Girl’s Love Song

Sylvia Plath

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead,

I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary darkness gallops in.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head).

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:

Exit seraphim and enter Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said.

But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head).

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head).

DUDE IT TOOK YOU FUCKING LONG ENOUGH

2011-01-13T18:49:00.000-08:00

Yes, today I went in to the counseling center for my appointment. My counselor is Diana, and I like her. Pretty much I dumped all my shit on her and she was nice and talked me through a lot of things.

She told me that my worth isn't based on what I do, instead on who I am. And told me that nothing will make me less valuable, and she didn't even get preachy or God talky. She's gone through things I should do to make my life easier, and she says I should sleep longer, listen to music often, socialize, and just enjoy sensing things. Also, I might start running or something because it's supposed to help a lot. So, it felt nice to reveal to someone, but when I left I immediately felt terrible again. This is going to be an uphill battle. I have an appointment with her in two weeks, so we'll see how I'm doing then.

Also, to anyone suffering from depression-- get help. It feels nice, even if it's intimidating. It makes things better, I promise. Just talking about it to someone who understands is like a burden lifted completely.

Darth vader necklace shipped. Now I have motivation to keep going long enough to wear it.

THE ULTIMATE LIST

2011-01-09T21:17:00.000-08:00

OH MY THIS IS EXCITING.

THIS IS THE LIST. THE ULTIMATE ONE.

Pretty much, I feel like listing all the dudes who I fantasize about religiously and give my in depth reasoning and logic.

THUS IT BEGINS.

1. NUMBER ONE.

DARTH VADER. Also known as "the best sex machine ever made." Or, you know, a Sith Lord, Luke Skywalker's dad, totally awesome as hell.

Dude, I just bought a DV necklace on Etsy SO EXCITED TO WEAR MY TRUE LOVE ON MY NECK.

Anyway, how do you not think him hot? The rattling breath, the multiple blinking lights, the terrific quotes. I'm sure he has a beautiful and dry sense of humor. He also is so massive that he would dwarf me, which is a feeling I rather like (woah, so not feminist sounding) and I can just imagine spending time snuggling up with him, and he would totally not reciprocate but dude, he wouldn't stop me either. AWWWWWW.

I'd turn to the dark side just for my boy DV. Now I just need to find an tall rich actor to buy a super awesome costume and then I'd be good to go. But seriously. This sexless half robot is so damn sexy. Like, okay, romantic fantasies about DV> romantic fantasies about Brad Pitt/ Joseph Gordon Levitt (sorry, I love you but Vader... sorry.)/ Edward/ etc. He's not romantic at all, except for his cape and his stride and his beetle helmet eyes and oh lord I could go on.

2. SNAPE. THE POTIONS MASTER.

Oh dear, I've always loved Snape (maybe not always... I was an uppity 8 year old). But come on, what's not to love? The wounded soul that hides behind his glassy black eyes? The long and greasy hair? The prominent nose? He's so amazing. Seriously.

He's one of Rowling's best characters. For not being the main character, his personality is superb, his backstory tragic but realistic, his logic sound. He teaches potions, which I would think would be my favorite magical subject (and I'd totally be a Slytherin. I'm not very smart, or nice, or brave, or loyal, but I am clever, and cunning and ambitious. Also, water is my element. And I'm not impulsive either. See? Slytherin. Sound logic, imo).

Also, he's hot. Old guy hot. All of them, cannon and fannon and Rickman Snape. He dies tragically. You know Hermione secretly reminds him of Lily. And he also wears black capes.

I SENSE A THEME: Bad guy who is not all the way bad who wears black and capes.

3. OH MY OH MY OH MY.

Who is next? I myself had a hard time with this one. So I'm gonna put Alexander Hamilton. You know, that hottie on your 10 dollar bill? Oh yeah. HOT.

EVEN THOUGH HE IS CONSIDERED BY MANY TO BE "CONSERVATIVE."

Yeah, this guy is hot. He was denied admission to what is now Princeton and that pissed him off and at the Battle of Princeton when the British were in some beloved building belonging to the school he was only too happy to shoot it up. Also, they shot a cannonball which conveniently decapitated a portrait of the Loathed King George. HOT RIGHT? Oh yeah baby. Plus he was the first secretary of the treasury. God, he's hot.

He had an affair, and when it leaked published a confession. He was killed in a duel with Aaron Burr. He wrote the Federalist Paper and a bunch of other stuff. I need to make my Alex quilt someday.

4. Phantom of the Opera

Not my main crush, by maybe my longest. He's so romantic and tragic and beautifully written. Something about a living corpse tips me head over heels. While he is creepy and abusive and weird, he's also a genius in more than one field.

He's humorous, and sarcastic, and dresses magnificently. He haunts the opera populair. He wears a cape and a mask. He smells like death (um, don't even get me started on my lady wet dreams about Hades, y'all. Cause they are scary) and lives in a lair on an underground lake. Dude. Sexy. He falls in love with the one girl he can't have and lives and dies without her.

UM YEAH LET'S GET MARRIED ERIK.

5. Hades
6. Cary Elwes in general
7. Jareth the Goblin King (THE BULGE)
8. Edward Scissorhands
9. Mr. Rochester.
10. Mr. Darcy
11. Cillian Murphy (that dudes' eyes are prettier than mine (and mine are very pretty imo (that's not vain! It's honest.)))
12. Joseph Gordon-Levitt
13. Captain Hook
14. Sloth from neopets (yeah, I played neopets (secretive secret: I still do. and he's hot.))
15. Sir Gawain (Dame Ragnell dude. So cute and sweet and lovable.)
16. Spock. Again, hot.
I TOTES FORGOT SOMEONE. NOW WHO IS IT?

Oh wow.

2011-01-08T21:34:00.000-08:00

Says on of my fb friends status:
"Why did God such a clever being come up with something so complex? We understand so little. We as men have yet to understand that the complexity of this creation God has made was created on purpose. We will never know what truly goes on in a womans mind. We only need to love them, not understand them."

First, that lost me the first time I read it. It makes so little sense my brain exploded. Second, HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA. Third, what the hell? This is so dumb. Fourth, this kid is so pseudo intellectual it's painful. Also his logic is poop. Why does clever God come up with complex shit? Because THAT'S WHAT CLEVER PEOPLE DO. COMPEX SHIT.

My life actually is totally like a Jane Austen novel, guys, I promise.

2011-01-06T10:47:00.000-08:00

I love Jane Austen. She's witty and sarcastic, and my mother raised me on Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy has become a minor crush of mine, and her minor characters are somehow so realistic.

Now, I know what you are thinking. She wrote all romances. Very romantic ones. I don't really like romance in theory. I don't really engage in a lot of romantic relationships.

BUT. I love the banter she writes. I love that her protagonists are often strong and independent. I love that they face lots of problems, and that they feel pain and they say no. I love that they end happily.

I love banter. Real life fact is I love love love banter and banter is the perfect word for most of the conversations I have. Lighthearted, quirky, often brief but meaningful. I like to insert dry humor into everything I say (lol, yesterday... do you want to hear this? No. I will keep going anyway. But we had a introduction bit in Bio and I said "I want to cut people open, and since I've rulled out serial killer, I'm going to be a surgeon." Hilarious right? No? Shut up.).

I like to think of myself as Elizabeth Bennet as well. She has fine eyes, and I flatter myself that I do as well. She's independent, loves her ridiculous family, is sarcastic, poor, and quite funny. I pretend I possess all these qualities. She's practical but at the same time can be overwhelmed by emotions, she reads, she's civil except when she's pushed over the edge, and she's the woman I want to be in many ways.

Do I look like her? Not really. But I look even less like Kiera Knightly.

She also is not easily infatuated. Sometimes she falls for the wrong person (remember Terah?) She learns to be careful with her heart. And then she falls for the right person. I am waiting for that right person I guess. I get lots of Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickhams.

But that is not the goal of my life, finding Fitzwilliam. I have years to fall in love. I have years to learn and grow. I will run across insane people and mean people and lying people and ridiculous people. I will have to deal with them. I will have to struggle and learn, and I will make dumb choices like I am right now skipping class because my head hurts like crazy and it's the second day. But I do want Fitzwilliam and I hope to be the spunky heroine who overcomes all sorts of nasty and is clever and bright and happy and maybe one day I will find myself a Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley or Mr. Knightly or wharves and he'll wear vests and tight pants and boots but he'll also swear and have a good sense of humor. Haha, yeah it's never going to happen but I can pretend whatever the hell I want.

Talking

2011-01-05T11:33:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say anymore. I feel like I can't joke because it's "sensitive," I can't confide because no one listens or will be kind about it, I get told off by my father for "over sharing" on facebook, my twitter remains silent, I feel choked and unable to talk. I can't call anyone because I'm never alone, I can't discuss civilly because no one is willing to stay civil, I can't express anything anymore without offending someone or being shut up.

I try to make the little I say count. Introductions in class: never say my major, instead offering some quirky detail that people will remember. Informal chatter: lighthearted, sarcastic. Conversations with friends: Slip in clues that something's wrong and shit my dad maybe just saw this? I hope not. Oh godogodogod oh shit.

Task list- Change name of blog. Make myself invisible. Something? I'm fucked.

I was going to get help today.

2011-01-04T20:21:00.000-08:00

I was going to get home early and call a hotline or SOMETHING but Aphrodite was already home and I can't work out my depression in front of her. We did chat for about an hour, but still, my plans were ruined and now I don't know what to do. Next time they leave I'll call.

postsecret.blogspot.com

Things my Elementary School Science Teacher Taught Me

2011-01-04T08:38:00.000-08:00

1. Your ideas are likely very stupid.

We were given a coat hanger, a bunch of mirrors, paper, string and told to invent a child's toy. My group made a mobile, something we thought was cools because spinning mirrors would no doubt fascinate a baby. We presented it, and Mr. Williams laughed at us and said that any baby who saw it would freak out at how ugly its own face was. He dismissed the project as unsuccessful. Another group made a kaliedescope type thing, and Mr. Williams said that the baby would cut itself on the mirrors and also dismissed their idea, despite the fact that he had given us said sharp mirrors and no way to keep them from cutting.

2. Under no circumstance can you be shy or quiet.

My little brother started kindergarten when I was in 5th grade. It was traumatizing for him. I would see him sobbing between classes, and he had tons of problems. He was very quiet in classes, easily intimidated, and he didn't like being confronted. Mr. Williams thought this was ridiculous. He would pick on my brother, yelling at him to speak up, slamming the table in front of him, and terrorizing him because this five year old was missing home and not used to having long days surrounded by strangers. My brother still talks about how much he hates Mr. Williams, even though that was years ago.

On the other hand, my little sister is very outgoing. She loves people, she hugged strangers all the time until my mom drew the line. She thrives with attention, so much that she ends up hogging it all. She also had Mr. Williams and loved loved loved him because he loved her. He doted on her because she was this loud, excitable ball of energy. He never chastised her, but here is my little brother who sobbed every day in Mr. Williams class.

3.Showing any sign of weakness is unacceptable.

I was sick, congested to the point that I couldn't talk at all. I had a project to present with my partner that day in his class, so I stood up and let my partner do the talking. Mr. Williams stopped her and told me that I was going to do the presentation all by myself because I was being lazy and letting my partner do the work. I managed to tell him that I was sick and couldn't talk, but he yelled at me and told me I was just making excuses. I gave the presentation in a hoarse whisper, with him constantly telling me to speak up, and by the end I was crying because I was so embarrassed. This only angered him more. He made fun of me and was rude and inconsiderate because I was crying and "faking" sick so that I could get out of talking.

Needless to say, he was a terrible teacher. If confronted with him at this point in my life I'd bawl him out for being a douche and make sure that the principal knew how inconsiderate and harassing he was toward students. Maybe that's not the right thing to do, but I think considering, it's justified. Half of my insecurities could very well be tied to him, and I spent a lot of time miserable because he made me feel useless and stupid.

But I learned a lot of lessons from him, for better or worse and, thanks to him, I know how to deal with douche bags now. It's fucking fantastic.

postsecret.blogspot.com

Post Secret

2011-01-03T22:30:00.000-08:00

(this looks EXACTLY like my cat.)

postsecret.blogspot.com

PS. I got a job.

Post Secret

2011-01-02T21:38:00.000-08:00

I'm going to submit one. I'm scared, because I'm paranoid about everything, but writing it down-- it makes it so much easier.

My only problem is now that I've made one, I feel this incredible hunger to make more.

2010-12-21T13:02:00.000-08:00

I'm not really a gamer. I play socially most of the time (and then I kick ass despite my lack of practice). But I ran across the most adorable point and click game ever. Like so cute it made me super happy.

It's called Anika's Odyssey and it is so sweet and fun and not too hard (I didn't get stuck once). Pretty much you help Anika retrieve her lost stuffed rabbit and encounter a number of creatures.

SPOILERS:

After helping the fishing troll, click on him and after encountering the mountain man, click on him as well. And then stick around after the credits. D'aw. You know you love it.

Not that anyone wants to read my shit writing but...

2010-11-22T22:45:00.000-08:00

I was inspired, which, fuck, is so uncommon these days. And the first few paragraphs don't sound shitty at midnight on a monday. So....

What I’ve heard of him has not been good. “Spoiled selfish brat,” says Roberta, Millie's old wet nurse. “The money he spends on ale in a week could buy me a tavern that would last me a lifetime,” says my brother. “Chauvinist baboon with a penchant for any sort of strong drink and reckless riding,” said Millicent who once was forced to court him, but escaped by passing wind and picking her teeth with a knife at the dinner table, both not so inappropriate for a man, but scandalous for a lady.

He is royalty, however, so all of this is said in a rushed whisper, as if there are palace spies listening for any sort of gossip about the royal family, which is fairly ridiculous because said spies hardly care about all the nasty things people say about Prince Alexi, rather they care about all the threat of his assassination, which has proven to be very real in the last few months. Everyone wants Alexi gone, and a few care enough to try to do it themselves.

So far, they’ve found his dinner wine poisoned, a knife in one of his guards wearing his cloak, his bed curtains on fire, his horse lamed, his carriage stranded, and his mistress tortured to death. And of course those are only some of the more original attempts on his life, and none have succeeded. His father grows feebler by the day, having had trouble with his heart that no amount of cloves can cure, and his mother, being female, has no power of any sort to stop the inevitable.

When his father dies and he becomes king, he is sure to wreak havoc simply because of his personal prejudices. Yuri, our neighboring emperor, and Alexi have always had a rivalry that could very possibly turn into the greatest war of the century, and Alexi spends money like most people drink water, on the most frivolous things too. It is said that he has seventeen horses, all of the best breeding, and two wardrobes of just breeches. He throws parties that cost enough to feed all the poor in the country for a month, and he’s reckless, a fool, and hardly fit to be king.

Why I, a duke’s daughter’s maidservant, am being forced to serve at his banquet is beyond me. I’m nobody as far as a prince is concerned, and it’s not as if he needs more servants when he has a castle full. But nonetheless, no one questions Duke Roidon, as his judgment is sound and his reasoning good, and he always has a good reason for his decisions.

That is what I remind myself as I button Millicent into her third best dress, which is actually my favorite. “I dread having to pretend not to hate the prince,” she says, “and we have only a half hour until we see him at most.”

“We’re very late,” I say, “But your father is quite concerned with your presentation.”

“Oh,” she says, “He brought me a dress for you, something a little more appropriate for the palace. I forgot to tell you. It’s in the armoire, the dark brown one.”

I finish the last button and then go for my dress. It is nicer than most of my clothes, but still befitting a maidservant. When I put it on, with a little help from Millie, I realize that my bosom is near to falling out and that the bodice is far too tight and overall terribly ill fitting. I sigh, and roll my eyes. “He should have had me try it on.”

“Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to fit?” she says, “But we have to go right now, Alexi is nasty when we’re late, though he’s hardly hesitant to return the favor.”

The pounding on the door reinforces her remark. “You two, the carriage is waiting.” She opens the door and I toss her a cloak and follow her and her father outside. We clamber in, and I sit next to her mother, Tanya, realizing that, while I got Millie her cloak, I forgot to get one for myself and the inside of the carriage is cold enough that my spine tingles.

So.... yeah, shit, I know. Don't remind me. But it sounded good at the time.

LOL

2010-11-18T10:20:00.000-08:00

Last night my friend was talking about her older sister with my roommates and said that she was on the wrong track and getting into some nasty stuff, which was pretty normal to me, if a little sad. So she was talking about how worried she was for her sister and said "Her roommate owns R rated movies!" and that was the "nasty stuff" her sister was getting into. Having a roommate who own R rates movies.

YES THIS IS WHAT I HEAR ALL THE TIME. SOMEONE SAVE ME.

I had a seriously terrible day, so boys! Lots of boys.

2010-11-16T19:02:00.000-08:00

YES HOTTIES. Also, totally flirted it up with random boy in spanish class (he's so adorable) and there's this totally adorbs secretary who I embarrass myself in front of all the time.

Bad part, I had to snub my ex a little, because he wanted to visit me and I ended up backing out AS HE WAS DRIVING OVER. But my parents and friends agree that it was wise as he had me sobbing because I can't deal with him and I don't feel like I'm in control anymore with him. I feel like I'm obligated to say yes and he never understands no.

2010-11-02T14:29:00.000-07:00

I am sick, and have been for the last month.
I have skipped tons of class and tons of work.
I am failing Chemistry and maybe Spanish and maybe everything else too.
I am tired pretty much all the time and I sleep through my alarm every other day.
I really want coffee. I really really really want coffee. I crave coffee like nothing else.
I spend most of my time about to cry.
I really really hate coffee.
I wish I just didn't have to exist.
I am tired.
I am broke.
I have little to no food.
I snap at people too goddamn much. People are douches too goddamn much.
I really hate my life.
I hate the male gender. I hate the female gender. I hate the entire concept of gender.
I am so hungry.
I am crying right now and it feels terrible.
I have a hard time telling what people are saying to me. It is like my brain is too stupid to process anything at all.
I am supposed to be working, but the interview I am transcribing seems to sound like nonsense most of the time.

On Halloween

2010-10-31T23:31:00.000-07:00

I love Halloween. I am obsessed with it. I love dressing up and fantasies and things that are somewhat dark, and I love watching Thriller and listening to Smooth Criminal and Phantom of the Opera, and I love all of it.

Yesterday was fantastic. My dear friend invited me to go to the nearest amusement park and it was the bomb. She likes most of the rides I like, and it was wet and cold so lines were next to nothing. So we rode everything about five times, and I saw a bajillion hot guys. And then a very attractive devil approached me telling me that he could easily cure the fact that I was freezing cold, and, me being me, I agreed to his deal because he was very attractive and terribly well dressed in a very victorian way with a cane and everything, and had terrific makeup and I wish so bad I had asked for his number, just to say I did.

And then we went through a haunted house (also very fun) and it wasn't frightening except the maze of mirrors, which really really threw me off (mirrors always have) and it got to the point where I was apologizing to my reflexion for almost running into it. That was not nice, but it was fun because I don't really scare but I do startle, and people in makeup just are people in makeup and I had a flippant conversation with what I think was a zombie and managed to keep my friend from getting too freaked out.

And for some reason, these people who worked there always singled me out for some reason, so I was approached by quite a few deranged fellows, where none of my companions were, which makes me wonder. Anyway, I find myself saying really stupid stuff to them, as I told one fellow he was really cute while he was revving his obviously fake chainsaw at me, and I asked various other mental patients/ Frankenstein's monsters for directions, and it was so much fun and I will forever regret not getting the devil's number because, dear lord, he is attractive and flirting with virtual strangers wearing devil's horns is so much fun.

Now that I've had a good weekend, I've hit the crash and burn in which I sob because I don't know why, but that's a lie, I'm going to sob because I want the devil's number and it's all just for one day, this Halloween thing, and I hate how depressed I feel all the time, and how out of place I always am. I feel like I belong somewhere else, which is a side effect of an over active imagination and a love of books. So now I'm going to bed listening to Phantom of the Opera and wishing I were not an unloved college student suffering from rather severe depression that I think I need to get meds for because it only keeps getting worse who has a huge affinity for Ben and Jerry's and whose current true love is dead, and even when he was alive was married. Dear lord, I hate life.

And I want Mr. Hot Devil's number. ): He was super duper cute and now I will dream about him hopefully and in my dream we will have adorbs babies and fuck it's late if this is where my train of thought is going. Ah, ew.

Also, I have a migraine and am I think I am going to go to campus health tomorrow. Because my immune system is dead and I've felt perpetually terrible all month. I feel like shit ALL THE TIME.

I'm hoping for Christmas

2010-10-23T21:33:00.000-07:00

So.... Lancelot the douche invited me and Jane to see Inception with him. Jane then decided she and I needed to make a huge dinner before going, so we did and ended up with a huge crowd eating food and having fun, and then Lancelot came and I forgave him because he was being nice. And then he disappeared, promising us that he'd come back. He didn't, so we left to theater and found him there, and he'd saved seats for his two roommates and not us, so very distressed Jane and I found ourselves seats, and she wanted to go home for a while, but I managed to convince her that the movie would distract her.

And then-- oh, lord, and then the movie started. And, despite being very late at night, I was riveted.

I have never really had a movie speak to me, but Inception did it. It was fantastic, perfect, my new favorite movie. It somehow explored all these questions I worry about all the time, and it confused me to death. It was the most perfect two hours and a half hours I have spent in a very long time. It was splendid. I got home and cried because it was so overwhelmingly fantastic and made me think over quite a few things very seriously. Which is weird, cause it's a movie and movies never do anything for me, generally.

And damn, all the men in that movie were fine, in particular Mr. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Mr. Cillian Murphy, and they dressed so terrifically that it seriously hurt. Dear men, please idolize the stars of Inception, and then the world will be perfect.

Hypocrites and Assholes

2010-10-07T14:24:00.000-07:00

Dear Lancelot,

This is the second letter I've written you that you haven't seen. However, I'm going to drop the formalities.

First, I really do like you sometimes. You've got a fantastic smile, and you're usually a very nice fellow. You're fun and usually a good sport when I beat you in Super Mario Bros Melee, and you sometimes make me infinitely happy. You're clever and humorous.

But then you have this way of insulting me, making me feel stupid and ugly in a way that really hurts. You say a lot of offensive things, and have made me cry too many times in the past month. You've told me that things I think are ridiculous, you've said that I'm inferior and obnoxious because I'm female. You've told me my opinions are worthless and irrational. You repeatedly do this, run me through the mill for two weeks! and yet when I tell you that I have a love/hate relationship with you, the world comes to a stop because you're OFFENDED. BECAUSE YOU ARE THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE.

I've never cried as much or ate as much as I have in the last two weeks than ever before, and it's because you're an obnoxious douche who is self centered and inconsiderate. You've seriously fucked with my emotions, and when I say something that you don't like at all, you ignore and resent me, even when it was in jest. And then you won't tell me that you're mad at me or why the fuck you are mad at me. You just ignore me, send me passive agressive messages and then leave your roommate to chew me out.

I hate you. No, seriously, last time I said that I may have been joking, but honestly, I hate you. I hate how you throw away your friends. I hate how you disregard my feelings. I hate how you ignore me. I hate how conceited you are. I hate how you demean me because of my gender. I hate how blindly you believe your religion. I hate how rude you are. I hate that you won't walk through doors I hold open for you. I hate that last night I left your apartment, without you even saying bye or looking at me, even though I told you I had to go. I hate that you'd rather play Legend of Zelda than talk to me. I hate how you flirt with me in front of the girls you like. I hate how you lead girls on, only to abandon them as soon as the weekend is over. I hate that Katrina is your new girl, and that's she ultimately going to be dumped in favor of some other girl, because she's so good. I hate that you mock me when I don't prank you while you're asleep, and then when I do, you become furious. I hate you.

I don't see your problem. I don't care if you're goddamn sensitive. I'm sensitive, but no one seems to care about that. I'm this hard hearted, bitter, feminist bitch, and you are a gentleman, a gentleman who constantly derides me. I don't know why I liked you. I was nice to you, I was careful in my playful banter, I tried to talk to you seriously when you started being an ass, but you brushed me off and ignored the question.

I hate you. You've made my best friend cry way more than I have, and forgive her instantly, but when I try to reconcile, you fucking dismiss me because I'm too proud to tell you sorry, when you've been so much worse. I hate that your roommate thinks I'm a bad person when I really care what he thinks of me, I hate that you tell him every goddamn detail of my fucking life and I just wish you would consider me a person for once, instead of that one chick you hate, who's become an obligation now that you have other friends.

Seriously, I give up. If you're not willing to put any goddamn effort into our friendship, I don't really need to be your friend. Poor Jane will be caught in the middle, and I'll probably never see James again, but that's all right because he's your roommate. I don't plan on saying sorry until you do.

Lots of hate,

Your former best friend

College and everything there is to know about it (likely)

2010-09-28T21:11:00.000-07:00

This is my depressingly bare room. And my right boob.

It's fun to overhear what people say about you, as long as it's not mean or super negative.

Like, Eliza, roommate I like better, blames me for her early period (woops?) though I don't know why she blames me versus Aphrodite, roommate I dislike in general. Because I DON'T use tampons or pads and it's so aweeeesssssooooommmmmmeeeeeeeeee! Damn, I love my Diva Cup. My underwear loves my Diva Cup. My vag loves my Diva Cup. Landfills love my Diva Cup.

I hate my roommates most of the time. They are loud as hell. They refuse to do my dishes, when I do theirs all the time. They have the loudest guests over. They leave nasty long hairs all over, everywhere. I have no idea how long curly hair got in my bed. Or why that bowl has a wavy blonde one stuck to it. They are nothing like me AT ALL. Also, when they eat, it sometimes sounds like they're orgasming, which makes it hard not to laugh.

It's all right, because I have the coolest friends. Lancelot pisses me off about once a day, but I still love him to death. The more I get to know him, the more similar we seem. He's hilarious, outgoing, loves to talk, has a fantastic smile that he shows often. He meets my eyes when we talk, he realizes the healing properties of peanut butter. He doesn't do awkward with me, and we are already best friends. I've known him for a month and feel like it's been my whole life, but then he tells me that he's allergic to pineapple and bee stings and I realize how little I actually know him. I love that he occasionally swears, that he runs through sprinklers.

Then there's Jane. She is quiet and shy, until you put her with me and Lancelot. Then she's a little sarcastic, and very clever. She's good at cooking and likes to quilt and she wears skirts every day. She's never really had best friends, or so she says, and I love her to death. She's so smart, and yet she doesn't make me feel inferior. She's my only girlfriend who I really hang out with, and she and I are so different. We like to go shopping together, and we are both always cold, which I like. She has the best roommates, and is taller than me, and she insists that she has the most boring life ever. I feel like we teach each other a lot, and it's so perfect.

And then James. He is Lancelot's roommate, and he is fantastic. He looks like Westley, epitome of hotness, but in a more subtly attractive way. He's an actor, and he likes dancing while cooking (and his cooking is right up there with Jane's) and he plays the guitar and sings. He has fantastic shoulders and arms and hips, and this way of moving that is heavenly. I met his dad briefly, and he's this fantastic big guy who kind of reminds my of my favorite uncle. James has an impressive lexicon, and the tinge of a British accent. He loves Japanese culture, and his love language is words of affirmation. And I maybe want to marry him sometimes. Also, I come up second to him while playing Super Mario Smash Bros Melee, despite being new to it.

And I know you don't care for me to go on. But then there's Lindsey, Michael (with whom I had a late night conversation about love and marriage while hardly knowing him), and Joe who I maybe hate.

I'm so happy, despite all the marriage jokes. I'm happy, despite sexist comments. I am happy being that feminist liberal chick who wants to become a surgeon. I am happy with myself. I am happy with my friends. I am happy being happy.

I love living away from home. I love feeling free. I love staying up late. I love boys. I love being outgoing. I love Alexander Hamilton. I love dressing like me. I love being alive. I love college.

I lurve life.

2010-09-11T13:11:00.000-07:00

Soooo, what's this? I have a social life? No way. It's unbelievable!

Okay, so college is fantastic. Despite the craptastic religion bit, I love it. I am so at home.

I made maybe my two best friends in a matter of days. They are
1. Lancelot- Oh dear, he is the best. We were playing friend tag in our NSO group, and I always managed to end up with him. We bonded, and only got better during red rover. We are quite similar in many ways. He insults me like crazy, he's outgoing and funny. He kind of reminds me of my brother, and he gives the best hugs, and he is so perfect in so many different ways. We're fast friends after less than two weeks, and he flirts with me like crazy despite having a crush on Jane. Oh man, he knows how to push my buttons, in the best and worst possible ways.
2. Jane- I met her at a dinner social/ dance. We were the cool people at our table and hit it off over line dancing terribly together. She is very shy, and very smart, but I've started to get her to ease out of her shell. She is adorable and nice, and always wears skirts, and introduced her to Lancelot, who now likes her and sometimes I'm jealous, but not always.

Anyway, I'm having a good life for now. But I'm bored! Someone rescue me!

Being Sad

2010-08-31T20:28:00.000-07:00

Right now I am sad. I don't know why. I just am.
I have no logical reason, but at the same time I feel ready to tear my heart out.
It's the worst feeling ever.
It is so irrational.
I just want to stop existing.

I cannot cry, else my roommates hear me, even after a long walk alone in the dark.
I just want to never get up.
And friends complicate things. I can't leave without them noticing.
Or have a mental breakdown.
Or start crying hysterically.
Or sing to calm myself down.
And I have no reason to be sad, and only reasons to be happy.
But I don't make sense ever.

Initiative

2010-08-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

So, a few months ago I got a copy of the church magazine for youth that pissed me off a little because it was all about dating. Naturally, it was a little awkward and somewhat sexist. They had a question (Something along the lines of "I'm a girl, can I ask a guy out?) in which they discouraged girls approaching guys or taking initiative.

That kind of pissed me off. I like asking boys to dance, I like being the one to approach, because then I feel like it's kind of on my own terms. The boy who'd never notice me otherwise meets me, maybe becomes a friend or not, but it's fun nonetheless.

But this is not all right in most social situations. Girls who are forward, girls who are willing to approach instead of just be approached are generally considered unladylike or unpleasant in general.

A girl is supposed to wait to be kissed, supposed to only tell a boy that they love them after the boy has said so. They're not supposed to be the one to start things, which gets me nowhere.

Boys don't generally approach me. When they do, they sometimes slip and say that they talk to girls to make them feel better about themselves, or they're adorable cowboys and I'm totally not into adorable cowboys. ) : I wish I were, cause then....

But I have to make advances, or else any hope for me romantically is entirely gone.

Also, sidetracking, BYU loves guys walking girls home "so that we're safe" because they are always trying to get guys to do so. That always pisses me off. I keep myself safe with my keys and elbows.

2010-08-08T10:18:00.001-07:00

Slowly and surely, my father is restricting my internet access.

His evil hand works quickly and surely, blocking any page he does not deem fit almost instantaneously. It takes only a matter of minutes, a couple of refreshes, and then it is gone.

Boom. Blocked.

Forever.

My consolation is I have two weeks until I move out. I can survive without The Frisky and Deviantart until then by using a neighbor’s wifi, though soon I will have nowhere to turn to for entertainment if he keeps it up. Soon, I will not be able to read Girls With Slingshots, or go on Youtube. Soon, even Facebook, which I frequent often less than once a day, will be gone and I will be alone and sad, unable to use the internet to entertain me.

And I am now going to see what other sites he can block. I can’t read anything about MENSTRUATION because that is dirty and vv bad. Unnatural and gross and perverted thing for a teenage girl to read about. Maybe I should try to get him to block various other stupid sites like hulu (my mom LOVES hulu) or maybe some gossip blog.

I will fool with his mind until he is not sure what is going on... and I will prevail. I don’t want to finish my Geology class because of this, and I haven’t done a single chapter in a few days! Proud of me? Yes. You should be.

I am so ready to move out. Parents are killer, you know?

Poor siblings, stuck with this fascist (you like my inappropriate use of that word, no?) filter. My sister will be deprived.

The "Oasis" Music Video - From "Who Killed Amanda Palmer"

2010-08-06T21:00:00.000-07:00

I love Amanda Palmer. Can she please marry me?

On Males

2010-07-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

I like men. They're so attractive. I occasionally obsess over them. Occasionally.

But I have a hard time connecting to them or finding ones I get along with.

So why the hell am I deliriously happy about a boy once again after only a little more than a year? Because this rarely ever happens to me, and I am totally not good at this whole boy thing because I scare them and of course the one way I get along with boys best seems to be through writing. And Terah, my ex, I suppose you'd call him, kind of felt the same way, so I just hope that I won't kill this boy, Leo, who is miraculous and I don't want to end up hating him cause that's never nice.

Now for the why I really like this boy:
I cannot talk to him without laughing. He's funny without trying too hard.
He's eloquent and manages conversation well as long as I help him out a little.
He's got long hair! What the hell, I know! Orgasmic!
He is a total nerd in the most adorable way.
He flirts well without making it awkward. He's one of those guys content with being good friends, but who realizes I'm female
He is weird enough for me.
He is not Mormon.
He's honest, and tells me a lot of things that are meaningful to him.
He's feminist, fantastically so.
AND... I don't know. He likes me back, he has some magnetic attraction qualities, he's fantastically nice, and I am tired.

Victory for today: I sent Terah a message telling him I really fucked up and I was sorry that I screwed him over and pretty much shredded his heart. I have felt guilty for over a year now for ending it so harshly with him, you know? So I said sorry and I am and he's a person, you know, and he doesn't deserve to be tormented by my bitchy self.

One of my favorite music videos

2010-07-16T17:41:00.000-07:00

Why? Because of Ciara's gender bending and her awesome dance skills. Love her.

It's a very strong, defiant song that is perfect for belting on the way to class in the car.

Faces.

2010-07-12T11:16:00.001-07:00

I have finally come to terms with my face.

When I was in kindergarden, my nickname was pig nose, who knows (haha) why. I was a pretty average 5 year old. Like goddammit, seriously, I was cute. But all the girls called me pig nose and the boys ignored me. And I came home crying every other day.

And that is unusually cruel. Mostly, no one says anything about how I look intending to be mean. But when your doctor recommends a nose job disguised as functional you know there is something wrong. Or when your aunt tells you that you have a cute fat nose. Or when your hairstylist sneers at your hair. Or when someone says, you could use some lip plumper, dear.

Can I tell you it is a terrible world for self confidence?

I did have a nose job at 15, and while I don't hate it, I don't love it. Nose jobs rarely are that miracle fix. Sometimes, the little change it gives is hardly noticable. I went back to school after being gone for two weeks, and no one even said, hey, you look different. Did you get a haircut? Are you wearing makeup? I hate it when no one notices. Like when I get contacts and no one says a word, so I decide to go for glasses again. Or when you get a haircut and no one even looks at you.

So, I have had problems with my nose. I have cried over it many times. I have taped it overnight because in some stupid book I read, the main character did that and it made her nose shrink. I have had rhinoplasty, I have grown my hair long so that it could hide my hideous face from the world.

It's just a goddamn nose. But it has changed a lot about me.

Another thing I have hated is my skin. It has not been clear for seven years. It is red, oily, pimply, and of late dry. What the hell, right?

I have used every type of medicine there is to remedy it, in the process discovered an allergy to the most common, effective medicine, have washed my face five times, three, once a day in despiration. I have rubbed my skin raw, I have let it go it's own way, I have done everything.

And I won't even start on my lips. Or my eyebrows. Or chin(s).

I have hated my face most of my life. But about a week ago I saw myself in a mirror and thought, damn, I'm looking fine. That chick there is pretty.

That chick there has big, enormous blue eyes. She dresses fantastically. She has pretty lips, a cute nose, a stubborn chin, a beautiful smile. She is curvy, but she has a waist, hosannah, and praise the Lord!

And I keep doing this. I startle myself. I am not used to this. I am used to leaning in to the mirror and prodding, critiquing until my face is a sin against humanity. But instead, I am
smiling charmingly at my reflection. I am saying, man, boys have to find me hot. I am so content. Even elated. I am finally in love with myself. At least my face. Maybe, once I start seeing pretty people more often, this will change, but I doubt it. I see plenty of pretty people in my classes. I am seriously at peace with myself.

My BFF told me that a Renaissance artist would kill to paint me and can I tell you that compliment means so much to me?

Boticelli would paint me! Venus and I are alike in our build. Leonardo would make me the next Mona Lisa! Is there anything more flattering?

And now I sound sappy so I'll say fuck a few times and apologize, but after all Jane Austen would be proud, maybe. I am beautiful, and that is all that matters.

Fuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkk

2010-07-01T23:21:00.001-07:00

Being a teenager is the fucking most ridiculous thing in the world. I fucking fucking fucking hate it because everything you say is disregarded as shit and dismissed even by "decent" people and fuck all these homophobes and xenophobes and God damn them for their Islam hating and Hispanic hating and their supposedly "progressive views" and fuck this fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am seriously pissed off at even my own parents who just agree with things I know they don't or shouldn't believe.

Fuck this and my fucking screwed up life I have had a migraine all day and am pissed off as hell. And all those who have this "you abandon your own shitty culture when you come to the US."

FUCK MY LIFE.

I want to kill someone right now or cry. Mostly cry. I am having a terrible day. The iPod is almost out of power even though I just started and my mother is sassing me about the kind of computer I want, and I don't want a desktop and she thinks that's ridiculous, but of course she has a laptop and loves it and isn't in college and she hates desktops.

And I was happy for about a minute and then by bubble was burst and fuck this fuck fuck fuck my body hates me my mom hates me my siblings hate me my cat hates me boys hate me I hate me I hate everything.

Fear

2010-06-28T19:54:00.001-07:00

I am so easily scared. I am a paranoid person. I am afraid that people hate me when I want them to like me. I am afraid of pain. I am afraid of my future roommates. I am afraid of telling my parents I fucking can't stand their religion. I am afraid of boys I like. I am afraid of vomiting. I am afraid of breaking bones. I am afraid to touch a gun. I am afraid of my cat vomiting. I am afraid of doing poorly in school. I am afraid or being incompetent. I am afraid of losing my iPod. I am afraid of being pregnant. I am afraid of crying in public. I am afraid of what God, if he/she exists, will do to me.

Answers

2010-06-22T08:48:00.001-07:00

You know what I hate? I'll tell you what I hate.

So, there's a magazine called the New Era for LDS teens, right yo? And I got it a few days ago and was like hey, I should crack this open for once and see if there is any insightful wisdom. So I did and most of it I snoozed through, but then I found the Q and A section.

The question: when I pray, all I feel is emptiness. How do I know my prayers are being heard?

The answers were something like: God does hear your prayers cause I know he hears mine and, btw, you have to want to hear answers and listen and read the scriptures.

Dammit, I hate reading scriptures. Anyway, the responses didn't seem meaningful to me. Most of them kind of had a "you're not doing it right" vibe. You aren't praying hard enough. You aren't faithful enough. You are impatient, refuse to trust God.

I hate answers like those. They don't help me, because that is what I do. I am sincere, I trust eagerly, I am a good person, I have been waiting for over a year for some kind of confirmation. It really sucks when you don't get one, because then you're like, is God just ignoring me or is He/She not even real?

Anyway, I hate that they give crap advice. They always make it seem as if leaving religion, even temporarily, is the worst thing one can do, and wondering is such a blasphemous thing to do. Uncertainty seems to be something religion scorns, though I have heard that certainty is an emotion, fickle as anger or frustration, and people are just as certain about something real and something fictional.

Which makes me doubt myself even more. Was that experience something I imagined? Was I trying too hard and convinced myself God was helping me? It's ironic that I expected myself to die LDS to the core, never ever wavering in faith.

And now, I am trying to gain insight into other religions. Maybe one of them suits me better.

And maybe one day people will try to be understanding and say something other than, "you'll grow out of it." Maybe give some decent advice.

On a lighter note, finished my Bio final, which I did not totally suck at I think.

Agh, I'm lame.

2010-06-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

Being lame, I did not in fact keep my promise and blog ever at all it seems. Therefore, I will try to make it up with a quick summary of my life:

I graduated.
I took a Biology class I am almost finished with.
I met a darling boy. (Aha, you are curious, no?)
I have started running and walking almost daily and it feels splendid.
I have started freaking out about roommates/ learning how to cook/ washing my clothes in public/ taking care of myself/ etc.
I have been lusting after computers (second hand macbook anyone?)
I stressed about wacky family members.
I applied for a job.
And it's summer! So not much actually goes on during the summer but me sleeping in.

And yes, the boy has long hair, but he is dreadfully thin, and eccentric and probably hates me because God knows I'm annoying as hell. PS. I have never actually seen him. He's good natured and nice, but I feel awkward as fuck talking to him, because internet is so damn distant. Whatever.

My cat puked twice today! The dryer is broken! I am unusually oily! The computer I get to use is broken! I have nothing to satisfy my PMS cravings with! My shirt is unflattering! I am tired! I have gained 30 lbs in two years!

Graduation, the Nightmare

2010-05-29T08:22:00.001-07:00

This is headless me.

I have been busy the last few days, like crazy. Tuesday, I went to a sweet sixteen surprise party, and we ate and hung out and then watched a dance concert recording, and the older sister of the birthday girl had her boyfriend over and they were fawning like crazy, sitting on eachother, giggling and making it awkward for everyone else.

And then Wednesday, I went to school, ran around trying to get my teachers to sign my paper saying that I can graduate. I found out I had forty dollars in unpaid fees that I shouldn't, and that one teacher was not there to sign for me. My counsler's a slacker, so he let me off, and then I got my cap and gown and was done.

Thursday, I hauled myself to Bio, and then to graduation practice. Which was totally ridiculous, as we messed up and then practiced it messed up, so it was pointless. And then I went home and played around on the tramp, and then got dressed in my gorgeous graduation dress that my parents bought me though it cost a lot more than they're ever willing to pay. And then we went to the events center and I got to wear the unflattering cap and gown with my honors braid thing. And I sat next to an obnoxious boy, who sang and made weird noises the whole time. And it was hot and boring and long, and when it ended, I couldn't find my family, and I was pissed off because it was too late to do anything, and I hate my high school, and a whole bunch of other things.

And then yesterday I scrubbed the bathroom top to bottom and cleaned my room, because we were having family over. My beyond awesome uncle, who is adorably gay (take that hateful conservatives!) came around 4, and then my grandma, my aunt and her family came later and we chatted and had cake and now I'm tired and slept terribly, and got up early.

And of course I skipped school.

2010-05-24T21:24:00.000-07:00

So, everyone knows that the last week of school you don't do anything, so you don't go. And I didn't go, and instead stayed home and pimped my boy scout shirt that I got free, but is a million sizes too big. So I decided to turn it into a dress with my limited sewing skills. So I cut it up and gave it some shape, and now someone just needs to return our sewing machine so I can sew it for real and take out all the pins. It's an experiment, as I suuuuuccccckkkkk at sewing. I'm not talented when it comes to traditionally womanly things like seeing and cooking and taking care of babies.

and then I watched The Young Victoria and it was an excellent movie, and Rupert Friend, the Orlando Bloom look alike (whom I perfer), Mr. Wickham in the new Pride and Prejudice, played Prince Albert and was gorgeous. And I really liked Victoria as a spunky feminist who dresses fantabulously, and it was a very pleasing movie.

And then I wrote like a demon, but I can't tell you what about or it will kill the story and I like this one and know where it is going. Thank god. I've had severe writers block
for a while.

The Hanger of Doom

2010-05-23T18:08:00.000-07:00

I think I saw it coming.

So, today I hauled my butt to church, where I froze in every single room. Recently, my face teachers were replaced with sweet, boring ladies, and before that the girls section of the youth program changed up too. And since I am graduating soon, I had the whole "this is your last Sunday in the youth program" sappy talk from the young women leaders, and my parting gift? A plush hanger for my future wedding dress. For God's sake, I'm not eighteen yet and I damn well am not getting married until well into my twenties. And that's their idea of true womanhood, marriage. That's my meaningless gift. Melanie, the head honcho, so to speak, thinks my pant wearing self is heathen for not dating, and is shocked that I don't wish to be married at 18 like she was.

And honestly, marriage is the last thing on my mind. When I told my mother about my dismay at my parting gift, she practically sneered at me and I'm kind of pissed off at her for that. Like, way pissed off. And so I was happy to escape the house to a little dinner with some kids from church, who are pretty fun considering. And Grant the Gorgeous was there, but I've given up on him because he's not very smart or similar to me at all. It's fantabulous.

So, I'm cooling down from all my frustrations. I had a pity party last night with my brother, who I will henceforth call Buzz, and we ate Pillsbury (sp) cookie dough out of the roll and moaned about how bad our lives suck, and before that the BFF called and told me about all of the many boys drooling over her, and I love her, but honestly she has issues listening to me. And she has a hard time masking the fact she doesn't care about my life. So I love her, but I am not sure why the hell I do, because we have nothing in common except our heterosexuality.

So, if you care about the little quote that came with my sexist hanger, it says:

Hang onto your values,

Hang onto your testimony,

Hang onto your goals,

So that someday you can

"Hang" your temple dress on me.

Indeed what the f. Do the boys get this kind of shit? No. Never. My only purpose in life is to get married and have enough unprotected sex to produced six babies in six years. Apparently.

Starting Over

2010-05-22T12:09:00.001-07:00

I suck at blogging. I am either too personal, or too detatched. I'm scatter brained and obnoxious, and I don't make sense to myself, or to anyone else. I am egocentric and have issues with criticism, and I am too opinionated for my own good. I think too much, I think too little, I am ruled by reason and by emotion. I don't know why I blog or why I want to blog. And I kind of hope no one reads this but me. But then I want someone to listen. I am not a deep person.