So I'm waiting for my Lab. I've got three hours to go. You're going to get a blog post.
I dyed my hair yesterday. And by "I" I mean that I went to see my bestfriendforever GL and she did it for me, because she's AMAZING. I'm trying really hard not to draw attention to it, because I struggle with what I view as shallowness in myself. And trying to attract attention and compliments from a drastic change I've made to myself (even if it's in an effort to make myself look better, I know it doesn't make sense, just go with it) falls under that category.
Apparently Facebook Messenger has this "other" feature, where you get messages from people who aren't your friends, but it doesn't tell you (which is STUPID). It did help me avoid a few people I met on that dating site I reference occasionally (I think it's occasional? I don't know. I tell people things so many times, I have given up on trying to decide how many times I tell people stuff). It worked out well, I think. I'm fighting with myself as to whether or not I want to be interested in anyone at the moment. And I don't have time for a relationship in the near future. But I'm worried that I'm thinking that because I'm trying to avoid getting hurt, or if I actually need to wait because I won't be able to handle it.
I know I should just wait, be patient, it will happen when it's supposed to.
I'm just a hopeless romantic and I doubt I'm going to get what I day dream about, so I try to cut off the thought before it gets to far, and I end up in this miasma of ennui (big words today) that I just float in until something new strikes my fancy and I'm like oh I want, and then I'm like oh but I'll never has, and then I just move on.
I suppose if it's so easy to move on, it's not what I really want. Which suddenly clears EVERYTHING up for me. Damnit, I was trying to avoid knowing what's going on so I could stay in the miasma for longer.
Eh.
Well, regardless.
That's all I've got for today. I forgot my earphones, so I can't listen to my DE class, so that's not going to get done, so I'm going to avoid working on one story in favor of a completely different one because I'm that good of a procrastinator. I'll likely drop both projects in about an hour in favor of reading, because I am just that cool.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Definitions of Beauty
NO, I will not be getting depressing today.
I want to reiterate something I touched on in a previous post I mentioned about how to properly call a girl pretty.
Because there is a right way and a wrong way.
Not all girls are "conventionally" pretty. This is a fact.
You do not have to tell a girl who isn't "conventionally" pretty that she's not. She knows. She's probably WELL aware. Even conventionally pretty girls don't think they're conventionally pretty.
And lezbihonest, regardless of how conventional her looks are, you think she's pretty and you want to tell her in some way that you think she's gorgeous, and is different from other girls. "But how?" you ask, "Shouldn't I just say that I don't like conventionally pretty girls, and that should clear it up, right?"
*bitchslapsyoudown* WRONG!!!
Girls are, if nothing else, masters of reading between the lines -- even if there's nothing there to read. And boy, do we read into things.
That sentence, the one you specified, the "I don't really go for conventionally pretty girls" or "stereotypically pretty" or any version thereof, has at least three ways to go wrong.
Let's dissect that.
I don't really go for: at this point, the girl is completely with you, knows exactly what you've said, gets every nuance and inflection.
Conventionally pretty: This is where it gets hairy-scary. Either you're saying she's conventionally pretty and you don't like her and/or she's not your usual type, which immediately sets her on a spiral of self-doubt and dismay. OR you're saying she's not conventionally pretty, but why couldn't she be, and does that still mean you like her or are you just saying that to get somewhere with her? Is it a line? Again, self-doubt and dismay/self-hate-spiral.
I'm talking from personal experience here.
Telling a girl she's not conventionally, or stereotypically pretty, while a good idea in theory (it's not) is not actually a good idea. You want to tell her she's different from other girls, in a good way. You want to reestablish the fact that you like her and you don't want her to change (if nothing else, a girl never really wants to have to change for a guy. We will, but we don't like it).
What you need to do is reiterate how SPECIAL she is. How UNIQUE. Grab a thesaurus, look up those words, and practice using the ones the thesaurus gives you. If you are unsure as to whether or not it's a good word, dictionary it. If you still are unsure go back to special and unique. Don't over-do it though, she'll catch on.
Describe her using positive adjectives. If you have to say "weird," "odd," "strange," or any variation thereof, steer clear of describing that part of her. If all you can see is her boobs, maybe this isn't the right girl.
So we'll go back to your original sentence "I don't usually go for conventionally pretty girls" and we're going to modify that bitch so you can get a bitch, nawmsayin?
That sentence then turns into "Other girls aren't as unique as you are, or as special. I could gaze at your (insert eye color here) eyes all day, and count the cute/pretty/adorable/interesting freckles on your nose forever." This will disarm her self-hate-spiral into an open half-circle of hope. She will be flattered, will likely blush, and then deny everything.
Let her, and then contradict her, with a "You're not (whatever she says that's opposite of what you think), you're super pretty, and I think we could make cute babies together. Wanna go get coffee sometime?" Modify it to fit the situation, make it your own. Creativity is key here, boys!
Being unconventionally pretty isn't a bad thing, but we don't have to point it out. Because we're all pretty in our own unique way -- conventional or not -- and we should embrace that wholeheartedly!
AH! and before I forget, when complimenting a girl on her looks, and she denies it, make sure you tell her how pretty she is on the inside, too! That will make your argument even stronger.
Okay, everyone, that's about it. If you have any questions, well...tough luck.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me
I want to reiterate something I touched on in a previous post I mentioned about how to properly call a girl pretty.
Because there is a right way and a wrong way.
Not all girls are "conventionally" pretty. This is a fact.
You do not have to tell a girl who isn't "conventionally" pretty that she's not. She knows. She's probably WELL aware. Even conventionally pretty girls don't think they're conventionally pretty.
And lezbihonest, regardless of how conventional her looks are, you think she's pretty and you want to tell her in some way that you think she's gorgeous, and is different from other girls. "But how?" you ask, "Shouldn't I just say that I don't like conventionally pretty girls, and that should clear it up, right?"
*bitchslapsyoudown* WRONG!!!
Girls are, if nothing else, masters of reading between the lines -- even if there's nothing there to read. And boy, do we read into things.
That sentence, the one you specified, the "I don't really go for conventionally pretty girls" or "stereotypically pretty" or any version thereof, has at least three ways to go wrong.
Let's dissect that.
I don't really go for: at this point, the girl is completely with you, knows exactly what you've said, gets every nuance and inflection.
Conventionally pretty: This is where it gets hairy-scary. Either you're saying she's conventionally pretty and you don't like her and/or she's not your usual type, which immediately sets her on a spiral of self-doubt and dismay. OR you're saying she's not conventionally pretty, but why couldn't she be, and does that still mean you like her or are you just saying that to get somewhere with her? Is it a line? Again, self-doubt and dismay/self-hate-spiral.
I'm talking from personal experience here.
Telling a girl she's not conventionally, or stereotypically pretty, while a good idea in theory (it's not) is not actually a good idea. You want to tell her she's different from other girls, in a good way. You want to reestablish the fact that you like her and you don't want her to change (if nothing else, a girl never really wants to have to change for a guy. We will, but we don't like it).
What you need to do is reiterate how SPECIAL she is. How UNIQUE. Grab a thesaurus, look up those words, and practice using the ones the thesaurus gives you. If you are unsure as to whether or not it's a good word, dictionary it. If you still are unsure go back to special and unique. Don't over-do it though, she'll catch on.
Describe her using positive adjectives. If you have to say "weird," "odd," "strange," or any variation thereof, steer clear of describing that part of her. If all you can see is her boobs, maybe this isn't the right girl.
So we'll go back to your original sentence "I don't usually go for conventionally pretty girls" and we're going to modify that bitch so you can get a bitch, nawmsayin?
That sentence then turns into "Other girls aren't as unique as you are, or as special. I could gaze at your (insert eye color here) eyes all day, and count the cute/pretty/adorable/interesting freckles on your nose forever." This will disarm her self-hate-spiral into an open half-circle of hope. She will be flattered, will likely blush, and then deny everything.
Let her, and then contradict her, with a "You're not (whatever she says that's opposite of what you think), you're super pretty, and I think we could make cute babies together. Wanna go get coffee sometime?" Modify it to fit the situation, make it your own. Creativity is key here, boys!
Being unconventionally pretty isn't a bad thing, but we don't have to point it out. Because we're all pretty in our own unique way -- conventional or not -- and we should embrace that wholeheartedly!
AH! and before I forget, when complimenting a girl on her looks, and she denies it, make sure you tell her how pretty she is on the inside, too! That will make your argument even stronger.
Okay, everyone, that's about it. If you have any questions, well...tough luck.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Guess what time of year it is?
Yep, that's right, it's time for me to be back in school. And boy howdy do I have a wait ahead of me.
AHHH 12:34!!!!!
Okay, sorry, I just happened to look at the time and that's what it was. Anyway, I've been sitting for the last hour and a half or so, trying to be busy. I have another two hours ahead of me before I have to be anywhere, but it's just not worth the gas money to go home. So I'm testing my laptop battery's strength. We're doing pretty good so far. Which really oughtn't be so surprising, but as I'm a charger FIEND, it's nice that it's not below 50% right now. We've still got 7% until then, and I'm not exactly hoping it goes quickly. I should be fine, though. I'll be fine until it's down towards 17% and then that's when the computer starts to worry too. And I really don't think it's going to come to that at all.
Anyway, so yeah, I'm just sitting in one of the student lounges, typing away like I've got something important to be doing, but really I'm just waiting until I have lab.
Oughtn't take long, as it's the first day of class, but I'm prepared anyway.
Got lunch too, which I wasn't exactly planning on, but whatever. It works out that Wednesdays are the days that one of the school teams (fuck if I know which one) sells food outside of the bookstore. It was a pretty good burger and bag of chips.
And then I tried to finish a story I've been writing for about three years now. It's going pretty well actually. I've just finished a chapter, and started on writing another one, and I'm REALLY hoping it won't take much longer to wrap it up, but I just never know with these characters. It's just go-go-go-go, and they don't really want to take a break from the dramaz. Which I'm kind of tired of, actually. I keep making them want to have fun and they always rebel. It's like "Seriously, guys?"
Ugh, anyway...
In other news, I'm trying really hard to just stay focused on getting school done so I can be done with all of this noise in the spring. Seriously, just a little longer. Then I can graduate and work my ASS off. Which I need to do, anyway, but I'm working on that. I'm trying to lose some weight. It won't be easy or quick, but I need to do something about it, because I'm no longer happy with where I am, visually. I can be some days, but it could be better. I'll let you know if I ever become happy with it again.
And I'm just trying to be content with life right now. It's working okay. I had a couple lapses at the very beginning of the year, but I'm doing better. I've just got to remember that life doesn't actually suck, and that it's okay to have bad days and get angry about shit. As long as you come back from it and don't think the world is a terrible awful place that's just going to hate on you until you die.
Obviously some days are harder than others, but I get over them and things go back to (relative) normalcy.
I'm fighting off a crush right now, too, since I really just don't need that in my life. I sometimes wish I just didn't care that much, but I'm just not a robot, a vulcan, or Sherlock Holmes. And quite honestly, at least two thirds of those have actual emotions that may or may not be stronger than your average human's. And no, I'm not talking about the robot.
I don't know. I have a really hard time with my emotions, as you lot well know. It's like, I want to feel, but I know that feeling will get me hurt, so I try hard not to, and that hurts anyway, and then I'm stuck in this quagmire of pain and emotions and I end up crying (which I hate) and boooooo. I'm not going to right now, I'm in a pretty good mood and a good place mentally at this point in time, but still...It's difficult.
Eh, this is getting too introspective. We'll talk again next week likely, if not before then.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
AHHH 12:34!!!!!
Okay, sorry, I just happened to look at the time and that's what it was. Anyway, I've been sitting for the last hour and a half or so, trying to be busy. I have another two hours ahead of me before I have to be anywhere, but it's just not worth the gas money to go home. So I'm testing my laptop battery's strength. We're doing pretty good so far. Which really oughtn't be so surprising, but as I'm a charger FIEND, it's nice that it's not below 50% right now. We've still got 7% until then, and I'm not exactly hoping it goes quickly. I should be fine, though. I'll be fine until it's down towards 17% and then that's when the computer starts to worry too. And I really don't think it's going to come to that at all.
Anyway, so yeah, I'm just sitting in one of the student lounges, typing away like I've got something important to be doing, but really I'm just waiting until I have lab.
Oughtn't take long, as it's the first day of class, but I'm prepared anyway.
Got lunch too, which I wasn't exactly planning on, but whatever. It works out that Wednesdays are the days that one of the school teams (fuck if I know which one) sells food outside of the bookstore. It was a pretty good burger and bag of chips.
And then I tried to finish a story I've been writing for about three years now. It's going pretty well actually. I've just finished a chapter, and started on writing another one, and I'm REALLY hoping it won't take much longer to wrap it up, but I just never know with these characters. It's just go-go-go-go, and they don't really want to take a break from the dramaz. Which I'm kind of tired of, actually. I keep making them want to have fun and they always rebel. It's like "Seriously, guys?"
Ugh, anyway...
In other news, I'm trying really hard to just stay focused on getting school done so I can be done with all of this noise in the spring. Seriously, just a little longer. Then I can graduate and work my ASS off. Which I need to do, anyway, but I'm working on that. I'm trying to lose some weight. It won't be easy or quick, but I need to do something about it, because I'm no longer happy with where I am, visually. I can be some days, but it could be better. I'll let you know if I ever become happy with it again.
And I'm just trying to be content with life right now. It's working okay. I had a couple lapses at the very beginning of the year, but I'm doing better. I've just got to remember that life doesn't actually suck, and that it's okay to have bad days and get angry about shit. As long as you come back from it and don't think the world is a terrible awful place that's just going to hate on you until you die.
Obviously some days are harder than others, but I get over them and things go back to (relative) normalcy.
I'm fighting off a crush right now, too, since I really just don't need that in my life. I sometimes wish I just didn't care that much, but I'm just not a robot, a vulcan, or Sherlock Holmes. And quite honestly, at least two thirds of those have actual emotions that may or may not be stronger than your average human's. And no, I'm not talking about the robot.
I don't know. I have a really hard time with my emotions, as you lot well know. It's like, I want to feel, but I know that feeling will get me hurt, so I try hard not to, and that hurts anyway, and then I'm stuck in this quagmire of pain and emotions and I end up crying (which I hate) and boooooo. I'm not going to right now, I'm in a pretty good mood and a good place mentally at this point in time, but still...It's difficult.
Eh, this is getting too introspective. We'll talk again next week likely, if not before then.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Finding the Fourth Wall
Over the summer of 2012 (can it really have been so recently?) I was recreationally smoking what is commonly known as "spice". It's essentially a random combination of leaves and twigs from various plants of unknown species, coated with chemicals to attempt to reproduce, when smoked, the affect of smoking marijuana, and sold as herbal incense to anyone over the age of 18. Okay, so it had been quite a bit longer than just over last summer, but last summer I used it the most heavily.
Quite often, I was "too high". There is a point, you know. I'm apparently pretty paranoid (really didn't need any drug's help to figure that one out, but hindsight being 20/20 and all). Several times I would hit this sensation of everything just not quite fitting in the universe.
I termed it "breaking the world." It stopped after I stopped smoking.
Well, except for the fact that it opened my consciousness to a part of my brain I'm fairly certain no one else should ever have to be aware of. This whole situation is hard to put into words, but I'll try. I'll start by attempting to describe the "breaking the world" sensation.
Maybe five to ten minutes after having smoked, my vision would start to become extra focussed. I would sit down and I could swear I could feel myself becoming separated from the universe. It's very disconcerting to remember. It was like I knew everything had already happened before, somewhere else, in some other time. It was hardcore deja vu. We've all had that feeling, that something has happened, we've experienced a conversation, or seen a movie before -- even when our brains tell us that there is no possible way we've done this before. Now imagine that feeling, and multiply it until you feel the world slipping around you, time passing you by for what seems like hours as you helplessly grasp at what is reality, as you attempt to regain your normalcy.
Now imagine coming back from that feeling, knowing the fear you felt, knowing the absolute terror you experienced, and then consciously causing it.
That was what my summer was like. I wanted to do it. I enjoyed it to a certain point. I instigated the feeling.
And when the adverse effects of smoking caught up to me (increased phlegm production, hacking cough, reduced immune system -- I could tell, even if I never let it get to me, irritability when I couldn't go smoke, an urge to smoke at completely inappropriate times, quite frankly an addiction, even if I can't stand that it got to that point, I'm acknowledging it.), I stopped. I quit. I finished the last of what I had left over, and as of August 2012, I haven't gone back.
It...It was terrifying every single time, and most of the time, I was alone while it happened.
And it's like part of it hasn't gone away. The awareness of my mind, of the thoughts in my head, of the circular, meta, completely insane track of my conscious mind, is now a regular thing. I notice it, I can't escape from it.
I'm constantly aware of what I'm thinking, and I am constantly questioning why I'm thinking it -- and then I start questioning the questioning until it's a vicious circle I can't escape from. I'm lost in it. And I try and change the pattern of my thoughts and I start to question that, too.
It's like I'm caught in a comic book, staring at the panel I'm in, and beating myself against the walls, hoping I can break through.
I think that fourth wall is starting to crack. I can't...It's too real sometimes. It's like...Even now, as I'm writing this, I'm wondering why I'm writing it, what is the point of writing it? Am I writing it for attention, am I writing it to get my thoughts out, am I writing it so I can analyze or so I can inform?
Have I made all of it up, or is it normal to feel this way? This isn't something I've experienced outside of an author "breaking the fourth wall" in a story or comic. That jarring sensation that breaks the story line, that derails the plot completely, throws you off.
There's a reason I don't read those anymore.
I'm too conscious. I'm too aware.
I'm fucking sober, and this is how I feel.
And I can't stop it. It won't stop, there is no way to turn it off. I just am constantly aware that I'm thinking and then I suddenly will realize that I'm thinking about thinking and that's terrifying. Because am I supposed to be thinking about what I'm thinking, and is that normal and if it's not, how come I do it, and why can't I stop it, and when will it stop and will I just go on thinking and thinking and thinking and getting lost in the train and suddenly, suddenly, grief and sadness rain down and I'm caught in this wave of fucking despair and I can't get out because now I'm thinking and I'm thinking and I can't....
And that's what's in my head on a nearly daily basis. Hope you're not too scared.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
Quite often, I was "too high". There is a point, you know. I'm apparently pretty paranoid (really didn't need any drug's help to figure that one out, but hindsight being 20/20 and all). Several times I would hit this sensation of everything just not quite fitting in the universe.
I termed it "breaking the world." It stopped after I stopped smoking.
Well, except for the fact that it opened my consciousness to a part of my brain I'm fairly certain no one else should ever have to be aware of. This whole situation is hard to put into words, but I'll try. I'll start by attempting to describe the "breaking the world" sensation.
Maybe five to ten minutes after having smoked, my vision would start to become extra focussed. I would sit down and I could swear I could feel myself becoming separated from the universe. It's very disconcerting to remember. It was like I knew everything had already happened before, somewhere else, in some other time. It was hardcore deja vu. We've all had that feeling, that something has happened, we've experienced a conversation, or seen a movie before -- even when our brains tell us that there is no possible way we've done this before. Now imagine that feeling, and multiply it until you feel the world slipping around you, time passing you by for what seems like hours as you helplessly grasp at what is reality, as you attempt to regain your normalcy.
Now imagine coming back from that feeling, knowing the fear you felt, knowing the absolute terror you experienced, and then consciously causing it.
That was what my summer was like. I wanted to do it. I enjoyed it to a certain point. I instigated the feeling.
And when the adverse effects of smoking caught up to me (increased phlegm production, hacking cough, reduced immune system -- I could tell, even if I never let it get to me, irritability when I couldn't go smoke, an urge to smoke at completely inappropriate times, quite frankly an addiction, even if I can't stand that it got to that point, I'm acknowledging it.), I stopped. I quit. I finished the last of what I had left over, and as of August 2012, I haven't gone back.
It...It was terrifying every single time, and most of the time, I was alone while it happened.
And it's like part of it hasn't gone away. The awareness of my mind, of the thoughts in my head, of the circular, meta, completely insane track of my conscious mind, is now a regular thing. I notice it, I can't escape from it.
I'm constantly aware of what I'm thinking, and I am constantly questioning why I'm thinking it -- and then I start questioning the questioning until it's a vicious circle I can't escape from. I'm lost in it. And I try and change the pattern of my thoughts and I start to question that, too.
It's like I'm caught in a comic book, staring at the panel I'm in, and beating myself against the walls, hoping I can break through.
I think that fourth wall is starting to crack. I can't...It's too real sometimes. It's like...Even now, as I'm writing this, I'm wondering why I'm writing it, what is the point of writing it? Am I writing it for attention, am I writing it to get my thoughts out, am I writing it so I can analyze or so I can inform?
Have I made all of it up, or is it normal to feel this way? This isn't something I've experienced outside of an author "breaking the fourth wall" in a story or comic. That jarring sensation that breaks the story line, that derails the plot completely, throws you off.
There's a reason I don't read those anymore.
I'm too conscious. I'm too aware.
I'm fucking sober, and this is how I feel.
And I can't stop it. It won't stop, there is no way to turn it off. I just am constantly aware that I'm thinking and then I suddenly will realize that I'm thinking about thinking and that's terrifying. Because am I supposed to be thinking about what I'm thinking, and is that normal and if it's not, how come I do it, and why can't I stop it, and when will it stop and will I just go on thinking and thinking and thinking and getting lost in the train and suddenly, suddenly, grief and sadness rain down and I'm caught in this wave of fucking despair and I can't get out because now I'm thinking and I'm thinking and I can't....
And that's what's in my head on a nearly daily basis. Hope you're not too scared.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
Monday, January 14, 2013
I AM OUTRAGED
I have found a GRIEVOUS error on the side of whoever came up with the emotes for the iPhone 4S (I say only this one because this is the one I currently am in possession of).
This isn't to say the emotes themselves are bad. There are plenty of very good ones. However there is one missing that I find completely not okay.
There. Is. No. Emote. For. Crossing your fingers.
Laugh though you may, but take note of all the other emote options in the library of keyboards they have for you. You may notice the SEVEN DIFFERENT TYPES OF VEGETABLES AND FRUIT, the twelve different hand signals, eight or so sweat drop emotes (some without faces). Twelve types of boats, twenty planes, five cars, six pages of ANIMALS.
AND NO CROSSED FINGERS.
So I can come up with about 20,000 ways to send a dirty message all in pictograph form, but I am not allowed to send the happy thought "Wishing you luck from all the way over here by following a superstition that says crossing my fingers for you will give you good thoughts and well wishes enough to do well!" IN A BLOODY PICTURE-TYPE-EMOTE-THING!!!
Bullshit!
This is a grave error. This must be rectified. Seriously, 20,000 dirty messages, at least seven of them containing vegetables, AND NO CROSSED FINGERS FOR GOOD LUCK!!!!! Even if I wanted to send the good luck for getting laid to someone, I CANNOT DO SO THANKS SOOOOOO MUCH APPLE.
Seriously. The closest I could find was an ENGLISH EDITING MARK. One that means "Deletion". This is UNACCEPTABLE.
In other news...
No, there is no other news.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
This isn't to say the emotes themselves are bad. There are plenty of very good ones. However there is one missing that I find completely not okay.
There. Is. No. Emote. For. Crossing your fingers.
Laugh though you may, but take note of all the other emote options in the library of keyboards they have for you. You may notice the SEVEN DIFFERENT TYPES OF VEGETABLES AND FRUIT, the twelve different hand signals, eight or so sweat drop emotes (some without faces). Twelve types of boats, twenty planes, five cars, six pages of ANIMALS.
AND NO CROSSED FINGERS.
So I can come up with about 20,000 ways to send a dirty message all in pictograph form, but I am not allowed to send the happy thought "Wishing you luck from all the way over here by following a superstition that says crossing my fingers for you will give you good thoughts and well wishes enough to do well!" IN A BLOODY PICTURE-TYPE-EMOTE-THING!!!
Bullshit!
This is a grave error. This must be rectified. Seriously, 20,000 dirty messages, at least seven of them containing vegetables, AND NO CROSSED FINGERS FOR GOOD LUCK!!!!! Even if I wanted to send the good luck for getting laid to someone, I CANNOT DO SO THANKS SOOOOOO MUCH APPLE.
Seriously. The closest I could find was an ENGLISH EDITING MARK. One that means "Deletion". This is UNACCEPTABLE.
In other news...
No, there is no other news.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Been a while since I last updated. Sorry about that. I didn't actually intend on a temporary hiatus.
There's just not been much I've cared to share recently. Life's gotten pretty boring. I'd say I was excited for school to start up, but I'm not. I can't wait to be over and done with it.
That being said, I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself when I have nothing left to do. Which is why I want to add a third job to my repertoire, even if I've been told I'll be too busy. By one of my bosses, actually.
I don't think she understands that after I'm done with work there, I don't have anything else to do for the rest of the day. If I only work three out of the seven days there (which is usually how it goes, during the school year), I'm done by Monday with nothing to do until Thursday when I go work for my Dad, which mostly consists of writing up FAQs, managing the Facebook Page and Ad, and writing up the constant contacts for when they have a new build put out. Which is busy if I have to do all of them in one day, but a lot of the time, I'm done by 2 or 3 in the afternoon. And I do that for two days. I sometimes will take help calls, if we get any and I'm in the office by myself. But other than that, that's pretty much it.
And I also want more job experience. I don't mind working a bunch. I'll likely still end up with a lot of free time, since after I get home from work, I have very little else to do. Internet, okay. Write some, sure if I feel like it. Maybe be artsy (which I've been putting off, but will need to get done soon here), sure, again, if I feel like getting around to it.
I don't exactly have a social life for work to interfere with. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that work IS my social life. After school's over, that will be one less avenue for me to meet people, which hasn't exactly gone so well in the past (over the three years I've been going to school I've only met one person there that I was willing to keep in contact with and still have. ONE PERSON. And, no offense, darling, but a) you're taken, b) you're a girl, and c) no one else talks to me, so I'm liable to believe you're the odd one out and it's just not going to happen for me with anyone else at school). Not that I'm torn up about this, you understand, but it's a little disheartening to walk into a classroom, look around at your 20-50 classmates and realize not a single one of them is going to be your friend by the end of the semester.
So no, I'm not looking forward to school. Is what we've come back around to.
I'm also not entirely sure I can handle being an adult for the rest of my life. It's the one upside to trying a little harder and being a little less of myself to settle for someone I'm not actually in love with. If I get married, or at the very least move in with someone who is intending to marry me at some point maybe, I won't have to deal with this all on my own. I might even be able to rely on them a bit.
And then I realize what I'm thinking about, and stop thinking about it.
After all, no successful woman ever settled. But maybe that's it. Maybe I'm supposed to settle for something less than what I want. Maybe I'm supposed to just be okay with things, and not have them be fantastic.
A pretty wedding, a small house in the suburbs, with a man I can tolerate, but never really love, where there isn't a spark of something, with 2.5 kids and a dog and a cat with a white picket fence forever and ever and...
I just wouldn't be able to do it. Oh sure, the stability would be quite nice. I'd enjoy that part of it. But I do want a little adventure. I want to travel the world, see new things, taste new food, meet interesting people. I want to live in a small, one bedroom flat in a city somewhere on the edge of forever, working paycheck to paycheck and living off of fry-ups and ramen and beans on toast, with maybe a stint of heavy drinking every now and again. I'd waitress and write and maybe one day find love, and if not, that's okay too, because I can live vicariously through that one friend, and any other friends who find love, and book characters and okay, so I'd cry every now and again feeling sorry for myself because that won't happen to me. But it would be LIVING. It would be living and breathing and feeling and just being.
And maybe that would be okay. It would certainly be better than what I'm doing, and DEFINITELY be better than 2.5 kids and a husband I don't love.
Maybe I could even have a social life. That would be new. And possibly exciting (or the worst thing ever and terribly anxiety inducing. One of the two).
I don't know...I don't really know what I want.
I've been really really feeling the lack of a significant other recently. Which tends to happen this time of year (and during the summer. It's just easier to deal with in winter). I could settle, don't get me wrong, there are options, but they aren't...I know they aren't it. I know it because (morbid as this sounds, please just go with it) when I feel like I really like someone, I imagine the rest of our lives together in whatever scenario fits my mood at the moment. And some guys end up dying in a Zombie Apocalypse do to no fault of their own. And some end up beating me. Some end up with me getting cheated on and letting them go but hating myself because what about me wasn't good enough?
And that's just in my head people. I...there were two guys I could have seen myself spending the rest of my life with. But I didn't have the courage to fight for them when I should have, and I end up kicking myself for it because I could have had it. I could have had it for a very long time. Maybe (likely) not forever, but for longer than three weeks (my still current record, held now for three, almost four years come June). And sure, my heart would likely have been broken to bits after it. But it would be worth it. Because...because I would have fought and won and kept him and loved. And let myself love for once in my life.
Because I don't know if you've caught on yet, but I don't let myself do much of anything, emotionally. Loving is top three. Crying is right there with it. Maybe just top two because I can't think of a third one.
And that's likely what's held me back. Why I don't fight. What's the point? Who cares? I do, but what does that matter? Nothing I care about is important, after all.
(Don't panic! These are just the thoughts in my head when it comes time to fight.)
I like to think I'm self-sacrificing. I'm not. I'm selfish and cowardly. I'm a true Slytherin (No, I have not found this out on Pottermore, thanks). I'm cunning only in that I'm doing this to maybe make myself look better so that they'll come back.
And maybe it's a sign that they don't. I'm likely not supposed to be with them. But it's so true. I have only ever seen living the rest of my life out with two men, and both of them chose other girls. One I'm glad to have gotten rid of. The other...well, regardless, he chased after someone else, and used me (likely unintentionally, but that's kind of how it felt).
And it fucking hurt. It did. And I don't know why I'm writing all of this crap up right now. How did this start? I don't want to go back to school?
I'm a bloody mess...
Until Next Time, Dear Reader,
Me
There's just not been much I've cared to share recently. Life's gotten pretty boring. I'd say I was excited for school to start up, but I'm not. I can't wait to be over and done with it.
That being said, I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself when I have nothing left to do. Which is why I want to add a third job to my repertoire, even if I've been told I'll be too busy. By one of my bosses, actually.
I don't think she understands that after I'm done with work there, I don't have anything else to do for the rest of the day. If I only work three out of the seven days there (which is usually how it goes, during the school year), I'm done by Monday with nothing to do until Thursday when I go work for my Dad, which mostly consists of writing up FAQs, managing the Facebook Page and Ad, and writing up the constant contacts for when they have a new build put out. Which is busy if I have to do all of them in one day, but a lot of the time, I'm done by 2 or 3 in the afternoon. And I do that for two days. I sometimes will take help calls, if we get any and I'm in the office by myself. But other than that, that's pretty much it.
And I also want more job experience. I don't mind working a bunch. I'll likely still end up with a lot of free time, since after I get home from work, I have very little else to do. Internet, okay. Write some, sure if I feel like it. Maybe be artsy (which I've been putting off, but will need to get done soon here), sure, again, if I feel like getting around to it.
I don't exactly have a social life for work to interfere with. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that work IS my social life. After school's over, that will be one less avenue for me to meet people, which hasn't exactly gone so well in the past (over the three years I've been going to school I've only met one person there that I was willing to keep in contact with and still have. ONE PERSON. And, no offense, darling, but a) you're taken, b) you're a girl, and c) no one else talks to me, so I'm liable to believe you're the odd one out and it's just not going to happen for me with anyone else at school). Not that I'm torn up about this, you understand, but it's a little disheartening to walk into a classroom, look around at your 20-50 classmates and realize not a single one of them is going to be your friend by the end of the semester.
So no, I'm not looking forward to school. Is what we've come back around to.
I'm also not entirely sure I can handle being an adult for the rest of my life. It's the one upside to trying a little harder and being a little less of myself to settle for someone I'm not actually in love with. If I get married, or at the very least move in with someone who is intending to marry me at some point maybe, I won't have to deal with this all on my own. I might even be able to rely on them a bit.
And then I realize what I'm thinking about, and stop thinking about it.
After all, no successful woman ever settled. But maybe that's it. Maybe I'm supposed to settle for something less than what I want. Maybe I'm supposed to just be okay with things, and not have them be fantastic.
A pretty wedding, a small house in the suburbs, with a man I can tolerate, but never really love, where there isn't a spark of something, with 2.5 kids and a dog and a cat with a white picket fence forever and ever and...
I just wouldn't be able to do it. Oh sure, the stability would be quite nice. I'd enjoy that part of it. But I do want a little adventure. I want to travel the world, see new things, taste new food, meet interesting people. I want to live in a small, one bedroom flat in a city somewhere on the edge of forever, working paycheck to paycheck and living off of fry-ups and ramen and beans on toast, with maybe a stint of heavy drinking every now and again. I'd waitress and write and maybe one day find love, and if not, that's okay too, because I can live vicariously through that one friend, and any other friends who find love, and book characters and okay, so I'd cry every now and again feeling sorry for myself because that won't happen to me. But it would be LIVING. It would be living and breathing and feeling and just being.
And maybe that would be okay. It would certainly be better than what I'm doing, and DEFINITELY be better than 2.5 kids and a husband I don't love.
Maybe I could even have a social life. That would be new. And possibly exciting (or the worst thing ever and terribly anxiety inducing. One of the two).
I don't know...I don't really know what I want.
I've been really really feeling the lack of a significant other recently. Which tends to happen this time of year (and during the summer. It's just easier to deal with in winter). I could settle, don't get me wrong, there are options, but they aren't...I know they aren't it. I know it because (morbid as this sounds, please just go with it) when I feel like I really like someone, I imagine the rest of our lives together in whatever scenario fits my mood at the moment. And some guys end up dying in a Zombie Apocalypse do to no fault of their own. And some end up beating me. Some end up with me getting cheated on and letting them go but hating myself because what about me wasn't good enough?
And that's just in my head people. I...there were two guys I could have seen myself spending the rest of my life with. But I didn't have the courage to fight for them when I should have, and I end up kicking myself for it because I could have had it. I could have had it for a very long time. Maybe (likely) not forever, but for longer than three weeks (my still current record, held now for three, almost four years come June). And sure, my heart would likely have been broken to bits after it. But it would be worth it. Because...because I would have fought and won and kept him and loved. And let myself love for once in my life.
Because I don't know if you've caught on yet, but I don't let myself do much of anything, emotionally. Loving is top three. Crying is right there with it. Maybe just top two because I can't think of a third one.
And that's likely what's held me back. Why I don't fight. What's the point? Who cares? I do, but what does that matter? Nothing I care about is important, after all.
(Don't panic! These are just the thoughts in my head when it comes time to fight.)
I like to think I'm self-sacrificing. I'm not. I'm selfish and cowardly. I'm a true Slytherin (No, I have not found this out on Pottermore, thanks). I'm cunning only in that I'm doing this to maybe make myself look better so that they'll come back.
And maybe it's a sign that they don't. I'm likely not supposed to be with them. But it's so true. I have only ever seen living the rest of my life out with two men, and both of them chose other girls. One I'm glad to have gotten rid of. The other...well, regardless, he chased after someone else, and used me (likely unintentionally, but that's kind of how it felt).
And it fucking hurt. It did. And I don't know why I'm writing all of this crap up right now. How did this start? I don't want to go back to school?
I'm a bloody mess...
Until Next Time, Dear Reader,
Me
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)