roses and thorns

 
I can do what I'm told... occasionally, and when it suits me. Like a cat. Only if it's my idea.

So I was told to consider roses and thorns. The good things, and the bad. The bad things that I have to focus on, because they're an important part of my day.

Okay, so, roses: Bollywood movie today with some friends. Might dye my hair (!!!), who knows. Might go grab a cheap dinner with friends. Had a mostly great conversation with my best friend all morning. Finally got in contact again with my other best friend, and so far it's not inflammatory.

Thorns? I dunno, part of my all-morning-long conversation with my best friend took a pretty severe header at one point, but all is recoverable. Neal might not come for formal, which would suck. I have a lot of homework and not a lot of time because I kind of spread myself thin today.

Those are pretty weak thorns. But it's a lazy Sunday... how bad can it really be?

*jinx*

bleak

God hates me. I'm convinced. Please, for the love of anything and everything that's holy, can something please look up? I had this outlook for my future, that maybe I could be special and make a difference. Of course that got smashed. What the hell am I doing anymore? Why the hell am I bothering?

Tomorrow, first thing, I'm going to figure some things out. I'm going to see what's wrong. I pretty much already know what's wrong, but I'm going to get it straight from the horse's mouth. Wish me luck with at least one of my mother fucking endeavors.

the emo-ness never ends

What it really comes down to... is scarves. Scarves. Why could I finish yours... and not my own?

There is a big problem here. And I am going to try really hard to fix it. I just feel meek, like I'm stuck feeling like this forever. Like I'm going to be stuck with this incomplete scarf forever.

it's getting colder

Last night I was laughed at for not having been on a date in months, and if you exclude my ex, never having been on a date. I was also called selfish. Later I was called a bitch. This morning someone else called me a whore.

Where the hell do people get off? And why am I used to hearing most of this? How could I ever get used to any of that?

And while I'm totally apathetic, anyone else wanna take a hit?

passing thoughts

I'm a change junkie. I may not handle change very well, but I constantly seek it out. I guess it's just one more brand of masochism on my part.

I can't hear anything out of my left ear right now. This is glorious. The cynical part of me is reveling in the halfway silence.

Happy Halloween. I was going to be a gypsy, and it was going to be really neat, but I'll save that for next year.

My bedroom is like a death bed of sickness. There's a thermometer, a bottle of Tylenol, a dirty hot chocolate mug, a Nyquil container brutally ripped open, and socks everywhere.

Am I stopping myself from being happy because there's something that tastes sweet and a little bitter about being sad? Or are things really, legitimately, irreversibly messed up right now?

I'm always the one jumping in front of the oncoming traffic that is Life trying to fix things... so why haven't I bothered fixing things lately? I'm in shambles. One friendship is severely twisted, one needs counseling, and one is really messed up. My writing skills have taken a header. These are things I could fix. Why haven't I?

When I was dropped off at Lambert today, I looked around at all the people being dropped off by loved ones and I thought of where all these people were going, and why. Texas kept jumping into my head, maybe because I haven't really explored it much yet. Everyone was going to Tulsa and Dallas and Houston in my head, apparently. I so badly wanted to be going somewhere interesting, like where these people were going (maybe Texas, maybe not), anywhere but Kirksville. In May I'll be going to Manhattan, though, and that's pretty damn interesting.

Love Your Body Day on Friday with Kim. Manicures, pedicures, yoga, massages. Could be a not-half-bad week :)

so conflicted i typed it from my phone.

I am extremely confused. I feel sick as a dog, but I wonder if I feel like this in part because my emotions are in the way. I'm happy to be home, but I wonder if it was a silly idea missing my last undergrad Halloween. My freshman year, I handed out candy in the dorms and went to bed. My sophomore year I went out with my best friend and my boyfriend of the time, both of whom came to visit, and I remember my boyfriend being irritated with me and then dancing with a bunch of women, then sitting back and telling them to "just do whatever, I'll sit here and watch." And this year I've come home. I spent $60 on (albeit reusable) jewelry for a costume I won't wear because my two in-town friends are for once out of town. One is visiting a mutual friend who currently hates me. They are both very excited to hang out. They're having an absolute blast together. They are both coming up to my school to visit me in a couple weeks for my formal, but because I told them to, not because they chose to or particularly want to. At school I would have been dragged out to a party, date dash (for which I have no date). I would have stayed out for a bit, then turned in no later than midnight because I feel like shit, microwaved.

I think this weekend is just kind of a mess no matter how you cut it. I'm sad though, that for once someone cared enough to seek me out and I wasn't fucking there. I just don't know how to feel besides constantly angry. That's all I ever seem to be anymore is angry. Maybe not on the surface, but underneath it all I am angry.

I guess the one upside is this: all I was really excited about was going to sleep cuddling with Oliver, but he didn't want me. In the process of typing this, however, he has returned and is cleaning himself, preparing for the long haul that is a full night's rest with me :)

The New Madrid Fault in My Life

 
This weekend is not lining up as cleanly as I might like. If I stay here, I'll be alone for most of the weekend watching movies and playing my new Sims game, and Saturday night will consist of a party I briefly attend, only to be ditched prematurely by people who said they'd stick with me (not an assumption: this has happened at almost every party so far this semester, and we're past midterm), or I'll turn in early of my own volition because I'm sick. If I go home, my parents will be around, but my friends won't be, meaning there will be no sort of festivities at all. Unless I convince them to go to a haunted house with me... and that seems fairly unlikely.

I was really kind of looking forward to Halloween. I was going to be a gypsy. The closer it gets, though, the less I care.

Apathy is setting in hard. Either it's senioritis or general discontent, I'm not sure.

I had to turn the heat on today. Winter's coming and there's no ignoring it anymore. Winter is going to be rough this year. More specifically, Christmas will be rough this year. Interpersonally, everything's messed up and I don't really know how to deal with it. I don't even want to think about it.

it's just a jump to the left

I am moving forward. I applied to Teach for America. I'm a big kid. I'm doing things not because I have to, but because I want to, because I fucking can.

Today, I'm going to finish my story. Tonight, I will watch a movie and knit. Tomorrow, I will have lunch with a friend and register for my last semester of classes.

And this weekend? I'm dressing up as a gypsy, I'm partying, and then I'm taking it down a notch and playing my new Sims game. Oh, and crafting. And watching Bollywood movies in bed.

All I ever wanted was to be happy. The kind of happy that glows, that really pisses off unhappy people. I'm slowly figuring it out. And I don't need anyone.

And you know what else?

I'm not a rag doll. Why do I have to keep reminding everyone that I am, in fact, a grown woman and deserve to be treated as such?

Things I Want to Say and Can't

 
Hit me up when you wanna put your big boy pants on.

Let's chat when that whole rectal-cranial approximation thing clears up.

I just don't give a shit.

I'm in pain.

You wouldn't understand this level of masochism if you beat yourself in the head with it.

Stop talking.

Do you have any idea what's going on in my life, much less my head?

You're vain and you talk too fucking much.

Make it stop.

I surrender, Life. You win.