Don't pay him any attention

Remember when I was really very terribly sick last week and all I did was throw up for an entire day. And remember that I lost weight from being sick the entire day. sigh. The golden days.

So. I'm expecting my period. hhhmm...I should be getting it in four days. I can feel it in my body, it's ready to ruin my life for a few days. My ovaries are being stabbed by the little machete-carrying men that live in my abdomen because only men could be blamed for causing such physical pain to a woman. And my hormones are speed racing through my body. You know what this means...Ryan can enjoy being pounced on for the next four days. I already told him to expect it after it happened for the second time today. I can't help it, I'm turned on for at least five days. It's like I went from this ill chick, throwing up and moody, to just indifferent to everything, to clawing at my boyfriend for not getting it up fast enough. insert evil grin here. And the funniest part of it all, which I will share with everyone on this blog just because it's that funny, he and I were doing things and I couldn't help but to make noise, and there's a knock at the door. I ask in a huff who it is and it's Victoria asking if it's okay to come in. Five minutes later, after we're dressed I let her in the room, and he and I tried so hard not to laugh. Ryan wanted to know how long she was standing in front of the door until she knocked. I said she probably heard from the elevator down the hall and just knew that she was the lucky one to interrupt the O fest going on in her room. It was just funny. And if you don't laugh at that, you have no funny bone and you aren't American.

No other lover

I had crap for dinner last night. I think I'm gonna go walking soon. Just around da hood for a bit. Listen to some good music. Then take a shower and go shopping for Baby Gus :)

Oh, and I miss having a dog. You have no idea. I really want one.

Sometimes it's a sad song

I consider myself a fairly level-headed person. I mean, even when I don't do the most level-headed things, I am still conscious of it's unlevel-headedness. I know right from wrong fairly well and I know myself pretty well. But sometimes I have thoughts that are not level headed; they are down right stupid. And I know they are stupid but I cannot help but to think them and want to carry them out. For instance, the way my thoughts have been thinking (?) I am afraid of developing bulimia or annorexia. I haven't felt so horrible about my physical appearance in a very long time. And I think that this is the heaviest I have been in my entire life (taking into account, height/weight ratio, as well as age and muscle mass). Since the beginning of Freshman year I have gained a significant amount of weight. And it's never been so difficult to get rid of it. I know what I should do to make it better: exercise and a better diet. But it's hard to exercise with a million things to do all of the time. It's hard to eat properly when my skinny boyfriend can eat everything in sight and not gain weight, thus he persists on eating like a king everytime we go out to eat. Dining out is easily associated with filling yourself until you want to vomit because it's a treat to go out to eat. But Ryan and I eat out at least four times a week. And yes, at first I didn't eat a lot, but then you want a lot, and then you realize clothes don't fit as well, so cutting down is key...but food is a drug thus it's difficult to cut down. And I have realized that I have to be careful about what I eat. Every meal I eat has to be simple. I'm starting the habit of eating lots of little things throughout the day. I have grown to hate--no, abhor--food. I hate myself for being hungry. I hate myself for wanting food. I hate myself when I actually eat the food. I know I need food but I hate that I can easily gain weight for eating out while some people don't have that problem at all. I hate that it's obvious that I have put on weight. I hate that every advertisement on web pages is for weight loss; it only makes me think of my weight gain even more. I hate that I don't have the time or resources to eat healthier. I hate that another is invited to my body; I cannot keep my flaws to myself. I hate not seeing immediate results. And I hate hating the above. Why? Because it's foolish. I used to be so smart about myself. I knew that results wouldn't happen overnight, but now, when I come back from the gym, I look at myself to see how much I lost. I used to roll my eyes at the girls who would loathe themselves because they weren't skinny. And now I'm becoming one of those girls. I hate that I'm not healthy. I hate that I don't look healthy. I hate that I don't think in a healthy manner. I hate the world for making skinny the ideal. A couple hundred years ago, my body would have been da bomb. I would have been idolized for my child-bearing hips, nourished body and fatty breasts. And now, on websites, in stores, on TV, in magazines I am belittled for not being a size two. And ya know what? A fully grown woman in a size two doesn't look healthy anyway, so fuck you size two.

I get it now.



I didn't eat yesterday and
I'm not gonna eat today and
I'm not gonna eat tommorow.
Coz I'm gonna be a supermodel.
Supermodel, so beautiful.
I'm gonna be a supermodel.

I'm up on him, he up on me

If I could be anyone else in the world--beside myself--I would be Beyonce. And, honestly, who fucking wouldn't? She is way talented, smart , confident and way beautiful. And I'm listening to the song Single Ladies on Youtube (duh!) and someone said that Beyonce has huge thighs...what the fuck? She is HEALTHY. And she looks healthy. Sorry if her legs aren't stilts, asshole.



***



I can tell that Ryan loves me. It's in the little things that you can see it most. It's like saying "I love you" isn't enough. Those three words are like the thesis and all of the little things are the quotes and statements that prove that remark. Anyone can say "I love you" but love is only certain in the little doings. And I know he loves me. It's a fact that he loves me. I guess all of those love songs are correct: it's in his kiss. And the way he hugs, cuddles, tickles, touches and caresses me. It's the way he pushes my hair out of my eyes and the way his fingers run through my locks when he's kissing me. It's the way I catch him smiling and gazing at me when we're in the car at a red light. It's the way he will do anything for me, no matter how out of the way it puts him. I can tell that he loves me when I wear my hair a different way and he smiles and his eyes get wide. When he says I'm beautiful over and over again until I no longer tell him to shut up, when he calls me just to hear my voice because he misses me. How he still holds my hand while he's driving, even though his left hand is tired of steering and is on the verge of falling asleep. Tonight, we hung out in his car for about half of an hour because we both knew Victoria would be in the room and we just wanted to be alone. And we sat in his car, in the cold, and watched the world go by...listening to The Beatles, of course. And, randomly, I said we should have a contest to see if we could last a week without kissing one another anywhere. And he seemed truly bothered by it and was adamant that he couldn't and wouldn't be able to last a week. That he has to kiss me when he feels like or else he will go crazy. So, instead, we opted for ten minutes. And once that was done, and we kissed for two minutes or so, I asked him how it felt to kiss me after ten minutes. And he said that it felt like breathing after staying under water for too long. And I thought that was the cutest thing. Mostly because it is! I guess he and I are a living testament to online dating, eh? Not that we are the first, and I'm sure we won't be the last, but we're like those couples on the TV commercials that talk about meeting one another. And looking back on the online thing, it was fucking crazy and I guess I was too young to want to make an account to meet men. But, hey. The okcupid thing is just like meeting someone randomly by the chopped meat in Stop & Shop; you know very little about them but ya take the chance anyway. And, as long as you're careful about talking and meeting people, then I guess you can get lucky. I mean, Ryan still may make me chopped meat one day, but as of now I'm willing to take that risk.

stay all night

I can't wait to be home tonight. Not so much because I'm home, per se, but because I will have home-like things. I can wake up in the morning, on my comfortable bed and use the bathroom without putting on cat slippers first. I can take a shower without flip flops. I can have a TV to watch and great internet connection. And time to relax. Can't say there will be too much of that anyway because the night I get home, I'm hanging out with peeps. And the next day I'll be shopping and then I'll be with Ryan. Wednesday I'll be doing laundry? And Thursday-Sunday I'll be in Pennsylvania, only to go back to school on Monday. sigh. I just need some down time. A night with just me and movies and doing whatever. And I can't...but whatevvvssss. I'm looking forward to seeing people and doing things. And kinda sorta having my own room...

Two more classes to go.

Pardon me while I start packing now....

I don't care, I don't mind.

And that's a lie. I do care. I do mind. And what am I referring to? I'm referring to what happened in my history class today. I had to present my paper on the Council of Chalcedon, as well as offer my position on it. The Council of Chalcedon met in 451 to declare Jesus' being after three separate "heresies" commited by three different men who had three different opinions on Jesus Christ's person. Essentially, the Council of Chalcedon declared that he is one person, but with two natures that exist ever so nicely. Why? Because he's fucking Jesus Christ and they couldn't have their savior anything less than perfect: human AND divine. Right. Well, in my paper, I stated MY opinion. And no opinion is wrong...right? I stated that I did not believe in Jesus as a divine being, just as an historical figure who made up a new set of guidelines for Judaism...which later became one of the most popular religions in our galaxy...but whatever. And after I presented the three heresies, my professor asked me that if I lived during that time period and had to choose which one I thought was most accurate...or what I'd want to believe in. And I never thought of it that way because in my paper (which he had read already) I stated that I did not follow that jive. And I said Nestorianism which essentially states (in crazy Christian's minds) that Jesus is schizophrenic, with two personalities in one person. And he wanted to know how I could believe that Jesus was schizophrenic and I said that I don't believe in him that way anyway, but what makes the final solution of the Council any better than a schizophrenic Jesus? And my professor laughed and seemed to agree. But then my own personal beliefs came into play because it was mentioned that I do not believe in Jesus as divine, only human. And it came up that I am basically an athiest because I always wondered what makes my religion correct and everyone else's wrong (with other theological debate, of course...but I never intended to offend anyone in the class). But people were offended with my statements. Even the professor. And it seemed that I was under ridicule for my beliefs. I wasn't prepared to defend my personal opinion on God and organized religion and I was honestly taken aback with it all. especially my professor, a man of Theology, who should be understanding of all points of religion...even those whom don't agree with religion at all. And someone asked me if I had done my research on my own religion since I had done so much about other religions. And I said no. But why should I? If I believe what I believe (with other convictions, not just what came to me as a thought in 9th grade APP World History) why am I being attacked? If I sat up there and said that I was a Protestant, and believed in Jesus' humanity AND divinity, and I believed in God and that God would save me from my "sins" then no one would question me beyond why I agree with the Council of Chalcedon. But no. Because I openly admitted to atheism and not believing in salvation (what am I being saved from anyway?) and organized religion, I deserved to be poached. Well, fuck that. And my professor even said that I wasn't compassionate and caring because i wasn't a christian...and I was about to bust a cap in his mother fucking ass. I probably have more compassion in my pinky toe than half the people have in their entire bodies. I care so much about people. So much. To the point that it makes me physically ill. And he had the nerve to state my inability to care and be compassionate because I didn't believe in a higher being. Fuck that shit. I am soooo pissed.

It amazes me how open-minded I can be toward other people, regardless of their religious convictions. Even though the beliefs of many in my class are openly stated, I still don't think that they're bad people. Why? Because it's what they believe in. It's what they want to believe. And why should my belief be any different? I am my own person. I am a human being. We are all human beings. And we are no better than anyone or anything. I do not believe in a higher being that will save me from myself. I am not my own savior. I am no one else's savior. I am me. You are you. The end. Why was that so hard for my professor to grasp? Fuck him. I was so angry after my "presentation" that I felt like walking out. But I didn't want to make a scene because it would be hard not to. A girl who sits next to me even apologized for the attacks made on me. And when it came up that I was born Roman Catholic, someone seemed relieved. And that I only made these frivilous choices because of the religion I was "brought up" with. That anyone who is Roman Catholic would feel this way about religion. And poor girl, if she were brought up another denomination of Christianity, she wouldn't feel this way about life. But what THE FUCK is wrong with my philosophy on life? What? What the fuck is it? Huh? That I think everyone should be respected, treated equally, loved, supported, and cared for, despite their fucking religion or race or whatever other bullshit. I'm so angry. I'm going to spit nails allover some bitch's face.

The seasons have changed from present to past

This Strawberry Kiwi juice that I'm currently consuming does not tickle my fancy. Rather, I am not being tickled anywhere by it. No reaction. It's not good but I am not going to waste it. Though the name is "Strawberry-Kiwi" those are the last two kinds of juices in the whole container. Apples, grapes and pineapples make up for of this container more than the eponymous juices. I just thought this was odd. And I thought that I'd tell you it wasn't delicious.

I had dinner at Ryan's house last night. I took the train from Hempstead to Port Jefferson (for a total of two hours traveling time) and Ryan met me at the train station. I met his mom once before on Halloween, but I got to see her again yesterday. And I finally got to meet his dad, who was very courteous (I suppose that's the proper word) all throughout dinner. They are both cute because they compliment one another very well. His mom is very talkative and out going, while his dad prefers to listen and makes conversation here and there. And his dad seems a bit more serious about things in general while his mom can just giggle. Anywho, they were very protective of me when I was there which was nice; they thought I was taking the train back to Hofstra and they worried about my safety being on the train and waiting at the train station for the bus. And I thought it was nice, though I was bombarded with questions about train routes and train times. Ryan just drove me back, which was both of our plans...I guess they didnt know that.

And I finally saw Pulp Fiction. And that was a really great movie. In general, it was nice to cuddle on his couch in the basement and watch movies on what is essentially, a movie theater. The screen pretty much takes up the wall and there are speakers all over the place, that when turned up, shakes your insides and you kinda have to yell to the person that you are already on top of just to tell them something stupid.

The train ride was weird though. I guess I'm expecting my period, or I was tired. Or I was to my own thoughts too much, or the sky was too grey...or all of the above...but I started to feel extremely sad and there were several times where I felt like crying and I had to repress the tears. I had to shut myself down and bring myself up again to appear normal in front of Ryan. A part of me didnt even want to see him because I didn't want him to have to deal with the Debbie Downerness. But I forced myself to feel better and by the time Pulp Fiction started, I was okay. sigh. I wish I knew what caused it.

I have to shower and call Andrew.

Peace.

The soup

It gets a little old

drip drip drip goes the faucet.

and all I try to do is be beautiful.

drip drip drip goes the faucet.

and I'm never beautiful.

drip drip drip goes the faucet.

and the ocean shrivels.

drip drip drip goes the faucet.

and all i try to do is be beautiful.

take a ride, take a shot now.

It's kinda sad to live with someone and not speak more than five words to them in a day.


I'm on the 13th floor watching shows because my internet sucks (not like it's quiet in my room anyway). And in the room next to me a boy and a girl were arguing about being engaged and then the girl was talking about how it was only one carat and the guy was all pissed. And I was sitting here, pretending to be busy so I could hear their argument...and then I looked over, and the guy was reading from a script.

Blah.

And now she is screaming about abortion. This is one fucked up hypothetical couple.

I'm fooling somebody

A faithless path to roam

Deceiving to breath this secretly

This silence, a silence I can't bear

People in towels give the best advice on condoms

I've been spoiled the past few months. And I know it. And while it can be a good thing, it also makes you pouty when you don't get what you want. Being someone who hasn't had everything handed to me my whole life, I learned to be grateful for whatever I got when I got it--even when it was something menial. I appreciate everything to the fullest still, but I have become spoiled by my boyfriend who insists on buying lots of things for me a lot of the time. I've grown accustom to it...which can be a negative because then you just start expecting things...and I hate expecting material things (what do they really count anyway?). And yesterday in the city I realized just how spoiled I am becoming because I stood in Times Square pouting for at least a half of an hour for not getting what I wanted: tickets to Broadway. I was a few pouts away from stomping my feet all the way from 42nd street to 34th street. How fucking stupid is that? I mean, after all Ryan has done for me, on top of everything that he paid for yesterday (because he didn't want me to pay for anything), I still had the nerve to be angry with Ryan when we couldn't see The Lion King on Broadway. And none of it was his fault, which makes it even stupider times twenty-thousand.

We had a great day. He got to my dorm room around 8am, and we hung out a bit before we went to a diner to catch some breakfast. That was already a great start because I haven't gone out for breakfast in forever...and I haven't been to a diner for breakfast in even longer than forever. So, after breakfast, we went to Mineola train station where we caught a train into Penn Station. I started walking in the wrong direction because I'm a Silly Sally, and he followed, thinking that I knew what I was doing. After seven blocks I realized I was going the wrong way, so we backtracked and eventually wound up in Times Square. We went to Toys 'R Us and rode the ferris wheel because he hadn't done so before. Afterward, a trip to the M&M store was necessary and we both got our M&M aura read, and we're both silver M&M's :). Anywho, we dilly dallied a bit more and then I remembered Bryant Park was nearby and we went. What a bore...no fun tents with cool shops, no pretty fountains, or catchy music. Just tables and seats and hella long line for the ice skating rink. Bryant Park prior to Christmas is kinda boring. From there we went to Central Park which was ridiculous getting there because we took the F train and that put us way way way way underground. We walked up about six or seven flights of stairs to reach sunlight. And then we walked about four or five blocks to get to the Central Park Zoo. After glimpsing in the gift store which had really cute stuffed animals, we walked past the Zoo really quick and found our way into the park which was beautiful. The leaves were orange, brown, yellow, and red. And some trees were totally naked already. The squirrels were fiending for nuts, little doggies had argyle sweaters to keep them warm, the duckies were happy to be getting so much attention, and the pigeons seemed a little depressed because the ducks were more appreciated than they were. Central Park is huge, however, and I didn't get to see Strawberry Fields...and I'm kinda alright with that because before we even got to the Park, my feet were killing me (not a good idea to wear heels). Ryan and I got lost in Central Park, on the many little paths covered with leaves, but eventually found ourselves by another smaller lake with a single little motorized sail boat and a few ducks. We both got a little sick of the Park and walked out...and then walked for another thirty blocks or so to get to a steakhouse that Ryan wanted to take me to. Smith and Wellensky? Apparently it's really famous...why ain't I heard of it then? Anyway, we got there, and it was very, very pretty. Even the bathroom was attractive. And here I had great wine, great steak and THE best fucking broccoli I have EVER had in my entire life. The cheesecake wasnt so bad either. My feet screamed at me when we had to stand up to leave. Once again, boots are not a good idea. We hailed a cab back to Broadway to catch a showing of The Lion King. Yeah, they had seats but the only seats available were $125 or $200. Fuck that. Plus, they didn't take Ryan's card, so we were at even more of a loss. I was a little upset at that point, but I figured we could still see The Little Mermaid or Young Frankenstein. False. Ryan wanted to wait (probably because he knew they weren't going to take his card and he didn't want me paying for us). And at that point, places that weren't restaurants, outside of Times Square, started closing and we couldn't think of anything to do. And that's when I started to pout. And Ryan felt badly about it too. But all I could do was pout. I stood there, up against a building in Times Square and just made a pouty face, and refused to give him kisses. Why? Because I'm stupid and unappreciative and spoiled. No longer was I appreciative for the train tickets, the ferris wheel ride, Central Park, the uber expensive dinner, cab ride, the entire fucking trip in general...because I've grown accustom to that kind of treatment...and I wanted more. sigh. I feel badly about it now because on the train ride home he kept promising me that we'd do it again and that we'd go see a play and that it would be better than this trip. And the thing is, it was a great trip despite my really sore feet. I got a day in the city with my boo, and that's all that really matters. So I feel like an ass for making him feel like the day wasn't enough...but I made it up to him later :)

People in towels give the best advice on condoms...

I have to get ready for class. It's in thirty minutes. Peace out.

Cool sexy, ever ready, someone fine, always steady, gentle hands, dirty mind,

If I have to see one more weight loss advertisement on a website page, I'm going to explode. It's really irritating to see that crap everywhere online. No wonder I feel like crap about myself these past few weeks. All I've been seeing are flat stomachs without a pinch of fat on them. And of course they are female stomachs. No, not a man's six pack. Only a woman's flat stomach and "perfectly" proportioned body. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling inadequate. I'm tired of always being reminded of what I dont look like. I'm tired of being told that's what I should want. Why aren't I allowed to live in my own little bubble of happiness without eighty-thousand websites telling me to be thinner and flatter and less flabby and more beautiful? And I'm sick of seeing ads for the acai berry diet. It's soooooooo fucking obnoxious. Yeah, I get it. Oprah lost weight by including acai berry in her diet. But i'm pretty sure she also threw up while running on the treadmill with a trash bag over her clothes.

And what I'd also like? To not get shit for showing affection to my boyfriend. Why? Because it's hypocritical. Everyone has done it to their significant others at some point but because it's Fran and because everyone is without their other half most of the time, I'm not allowed to do it. To put things in perspective, how long was I without someone while everyone else was with someone? How often was I left at home by myself because everyone else was too busy doing things with their boyfriend/girlfriend? How often was I a fifth wheel? A seventh wheel? And now, because people are left without, I'm not allowed to talk about it or be happy about it because it makes people jealous or annoyed. Everyone's a hypocrite it seems.

And I also do not want to write this fucking paper that is due on Thursday. I had a shitty Saturday night because this paper was looming over my head. And now I'm reading shit on the council of Chalcedon, hoping to know enough to write shit about it, then present it to a class that probably knows more about it than I do. sigh.

I want to improve my posture starting right now.

Do you think I'm really cool and sexy?

and I know you want to get with me

Last time lover, make me feel good

lovin' under cover like you should

fucking to one of my songs

so. ooooh, it's bold. you didn't expect this shit, eh? Well, it happened, get over it. Maybe the bold font will disappear before you know it. In mid-sentence it could disappear and you'll never see it in this blog EVER again. Oh snap. Bold AND CAPS! What is this world COMING TO?!! Hopefully a world of peace with a sexy Chocolate man as prezzie. I'd still do him in the backseat...

So, I finally talked to my mom today. She said that my dad is opposed to me driving to North Carolina by myself. I'm assuming it's because I'm a girl. It's because I'm his little girl and I can't handle the fourteen drive alone with big, scary men on I-95 in their Dodge Ram Pick-up trucks who have small dicks and huge egos and puny ideas of the world at large. I can handle myself in this world. I have proven myself more than once. Sure, it's nice to lean on people here and there, but I like to think that I am independent. The fourteen hour drive did not scare me. This concept was relieving. Yeah, it'd suck balls, but I'd enjoy the alone time and the scenery. But I might not get that now? Sigh. I'd like to fly considering I've never done it, but I would also like that experience of driving by myself. I hate being restricted for being female. And he can stop me because it's his car. I'm no longer paying insurance so he can dictate what happens with his car. Sigh. This world is soooo oppressing.

Did you know about wine ettiquette? Well, I learned from first-hand experience. Let me fill you in on wine ettiquette. The first time Ryan and I ordered a bottle of wine was at Houlihan's. This was still early on in the relationship, and we had never gotten alcohol together. Sure, he'd order beer, but I never had alcohol at dinner, and never got it because I knew it'd make the bill more expensive. And I was naive about the whole ID bullshit. Anywho...Ryan suggested that we order a bottle of wine at Houlihan's. I was in the drinking mood, as was he, so wine seemed like a great idea. Neither of us were (or are) wine pros, but we managed to decide on one that had a fun and fruity description next to the wine's name. Ryan ordered it for us, and the waiter did not ask for proof of age and I was content with this wine business at dinner. I really wanted/needed alcohol. Duh. The waiter comes with our adult grape juice and shows the bottle to Ryan to confirm that this is the bottle he ordered for us. Ryan nods and the waiter opens, with struggle, our wine and pours a tiny bit into Ryan's glass and asks him to taste it. Ya know, to see if he approves. Ryan does so and decides that it's good. And then, because Ryan said it was okay, the waiter poured me my glass and then filled Ryan's glass. And walked away. So this is what our society comes down to, folks. Sorry to disappoint you with a feminist ending, but I cannot fathom the wine testing thing. 1)The man at the table confirms that the wine presented is what was ordered, 2) The man at the table gets a little taste test, just to make sure HE likes it....because, ya know, that means that I will automatically like it as well, 3)The "lady" gets the first full glass because ladies first is an hella old concept (as is the man making the decisions for the couple). It's complete bullshit and unfair that my boyfriend gets to decide for me if I like the wine. And every restaurant we've been to where we got wine has done this. It's not just Houlihan's. It's everywhere. And we've ordered wine from at least eight different restaurants. Fuck this patriarchal society. Why can't the male and female each get a sip and decide TOGETHER if it's worth drinking. It pisses me off so much.

Guess what? I still have a roommate and I still cannot have sex because of it.

Bold font is over.

He blew his mind out in a car

He didn't notice that the lights had changed

A crowd of people stood and stared

They'd seen his face before

Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords

The ocean

I'm tired. I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of you, I'm tired of me, I'm tired of being surrounded by ignorance, I'm tired of technology, I'm tired of reading shit that I dont want to read, I'm tired of being told what to do, I'm tired of feeling guilty, I'm tired of sucking, I'm tired of being sucked, I'm tired. Get it?

anyone other than me

notice how basic white cotton panties can make you feel unattractive? like, i have a really good collection of sexy underwear. or cute underwear. or underwear that doesnt make me feel like an old lady of thirty-five with two kids, and the only thing I have time to shop for are the basic cotton five pack of Hanes underwear at Target. I have panties made of lace, I have sheer panties, I have silk panties, boy shorts, cheekies, briefs...all kinds. And as of current, because you really need to know, I'm wearing basic white cotton underwear. and I feel less attractive when I think about what kind of panties I'm wearing. They are flattering. Sometimes they can look cute. But I feel fat and they make me look fat. The gym is in order most definitely.

So I've been thinking about my level of attractiveness lately. Like, what makes me attractive. There is no doubt that people find me attractive and that I consider myself attractive. But I've been wondering how I am attractive. How to explain....hhmm...okay, so ya know how there are some chicks that are attractive because of how they carry themselves? Like, I know a few girls that act like they have that "it" factor, and they are deemed attractive because of this. And then there are the girls that are actually pretty. That have the eyes, nose, lips, cheekbones, forehead and symmetry (and proportions) which make them pretty. So they are legitimately attractive, even without the confidence bit. Now. I've been thinking about this. Am I the girl that isn't really that attractive, but I carry myself well, thus people perceive me attractive. Or, do I have the features of a pretty girl. That most people would find me pretty, just by looking at a picture of me, without knowing how I was in person or some shit like that. You know what I mean? Would the kind of underwear that I have on make a difference at all? If I were wearing my sevens, would that up the ante? Or whatever.

I've kinda been going crazy lately. Did anyone notice? So much going on in my mind and it catches up to me. Like a pregnant hamster sitting on top of my lungs, preventing me from breathing like a normal human being with normal thoughts and normal worries. I have been uber stressed. My dog is dead. He is officially dead. Melany texted me Friday night telling me that Tobie was put down on Tuesday. And it's a coincidence that Tuesday was when I was sick. I had a horrible migraine that day. Funny how things work out that way. Regardless, Ryan and I drove out to Suffolk County to an Italian restaurant called Carabba's, and I was doing well. I did not feel achey in the head, I was stressless because it was Friday night and I had my honey to spend time with for the night. And I was texting Andrew, and I got a random text from Mel. And my dog is dead. I've been fretting over it for weeks, and it's finally done. And yes, I wanted to cry. I need to cry. Need. But I couldn't. Why? Because I was out to dinner with my boyfriend. Not a good place to totally lose it. Upset about Tobie, upset about my life as of current. No me time. No understanding the foreign language I signed up for. No catching up with the homework that I've been slacking with. Nothing. No nothing. If I started to cry in Carabba's, I would not have stopped and I would have made a scene. Jen made a point: I should cry in front of Ryan. I don't like to cry in front of anyone, but the way i've thought of it, I trust him to see me naked, and to know parts of my body with his hands and mouth that I wouldn't trust other people with, so why can't he see a few salty tears fall from my eyes. But the other way I thought of it, it's a new way to be vulnerable to someone. Sex is a totally different emotion than sadness (or insanity, whatever) though both can tear you to pieces if approached the wrong way. With sex, I face the risk of losing my own domain. My body, my skin, my curves, my everything. Sadness, I risk losing clarity, happiness, peace. In the moment of both, I lose myself. And I suppose it's easier for me to let my body go in order to achieve orgasm, than to risk crying and not stopping. But as I said before, I need to cry. It will make me feel a lot better. And I want him to see it. I just have to actually do it. I've held back tears for the past three weeks, not having a chance to express my pain, my fear, my sadness, my worry, anxiety, hatred. It's all boiling inside my body, and I refuse to release it. It's never the right time. I feel worst when at work, or class or the gym or in a public place. When I'm in my room, it won't come. Those tears won't come. And tonight, when I wanted to tell Ryan that I was sad because I thought of never seeing my dog again, I couldn't say those words. Because saying them out loud, just like typing them right now, brings tears to my eyes. That's the worst part about death, the toughest thing to grasp. Never seeing that being again. I can't call him over to me anymore, I can't give him cookies anymore, I can't pet him or brush him. I can't do it anymore. And that's what hurts inside. That's what makes me want to break down. It's what makes me crazy everytime someone close to me died. Knowing I could never see them or speak to them again. And now it has happened with my doggie. My little Tobie is gone and I won't see him ever again.

11th grade I lost my grandma, she died in her sleep. 12th grade I lost my uncle to AIDS, essentially. Sophomore year of college, I lost my dog. And it's never going to get easier. The older one gets, the more loved ones one loses.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that Andrew and I were meant to be friends. Like, I can't imagine him not in my life at this point. He can make me laugh like no one else can. He is one of the only persons that I feel 100% myself around. And I know he will be there for me, and I for him. And I hope, regardless of what happens in our lives, that we always stay in touch. I have a feeling that if we lost touch for ten years and bumped into eachother at a high school reunion, we'd have everything to talk about and there wouldn't be a silent moment. Anywho, I'm glad he's stayed in my life through these years. He helped to make me who I am today. I am a less serious person because of him. And I suppose I did something for him.

I'm drying up inside. And it sucks.

And ya know what I want to do? I want to fuck. I want to fuck and I can't because I have a roommate.

I love him.

I just can't say it.

Call it emotionally dysfunctional if you'd like.

It's just that vulnerability again.

And I used the word "just" like it's something so simple. Giving up vulnerability is apparently easy.

College is driving me crazy. I still don't get why I'm doing this to myself sometimes. I'd be better off in the Peace Corps.

I really really really really really really hope Obama wins this election.

I'm looking forward to going home this weekend.

It's all in the panties, man. It's all in the panties.

Love and Peace...though I have major problems with the "l" word.

God woke up on the wrong side of His bed.

I dont know why I started this blog. I dont feel like talking to anyone. Not like anyone's really going to listen anyway.



The future president will be on campus tomorrow. I'm hoping it's the lovely Chocolate man. Yeah, I'd do him in the backseat.



There's this one Indian professor (I think he's Indian and I think he's a professor) that I see all of the time. He is THE sexiest man ever. Or, in my top three. Everytime I see him, I have to look at him as he walks by. I first saw him Freshman year. Love at first sight. we all know I love ethnic guys anyway, and...the things I'd do to him in the backseat. He is tall, thin, well built, in his forties, dark-skinned, dresses well, carriest himself well, has gray hair....shit, he's sooo fucking hot, I can't stand it. Well, anyway, I saw him today. Let's call him...Joe. I saw Joe today while visiting Coral and I just smiled to myself because I feel like he is my dirty little secret...that maybe isn't so secret now. But I never mentioned him to anyone before, and everytime I see him, I just want to kiss him. He really is gorgeous. Shit, Joe. Shit.

Some songs are so very pretty.

I feel fat right now. Either I'm bloated or I really am obese. I'm going with a little bit of both.

The campus is crazy right now. Can you believe that the future president will be here in my vicinity?

She believes in everything

And everyone and you and yours and mine

I've waited a thousand years
For you to come and blow me out my mind

Crawl inside

I have half of an hour until I have to go to class. I have my sex class and my LGBT class. Overall, not a bad day. I had math earlier and though that's a different story all together, it's a good day. It's not too chilly out, I have two decent classes left and then I'm off to the gym and then dyeing my hair. My roots are coming in like a mother fucker, so it's imperative that I get that radiant red hair back again.

I've been going to the gym again. Basically on the days that I do not see Ryan, I do some shit at the gym. Not anything too strenuous yet, but just getting myself to feel less bulky. Essentially, I eat out seven days a week. Ryan and I go out to eat when we're together and then it's campus food which can be just as bad as going out to eat, ya know? And I feel unattractive, so I go to the gym to get some sort of attractive shape to my frame. I thought about it, and if I actually tried (like REALLY tried) to lose weight, I would have a bangin' body. I think I have a semi-small frame underneath my flesh. Maybe I'll be a model with all of this weight I won't loser.

I feel like I need to do catch-up with this blog today....what else?

I am coming home again this weekend because Ryan still has to have dinner with my parents. I'm coming home Friday night and leaving Sunday afternoon (I have work). I also wanted to go home so that I could let Victoria have the room to herself for a day or so. I feel badly about her not having her own space (especially when boyfriend is over) so a night where she doesnt have to worry about our shit might be semi-nice of me. It's worth a shot, right? uummm....

I've been thinking about going blonde again. Maybe after I dye my hair red, and let it fade a bit, I'll go a dirty, dirty blonde. I miss the blonde hair more than I miss the long hair. Red is fun and it was different, but I want a change again. And I feel like I have the freedom to dye my hair whatever the fuck I want. It seems like my mom cares less and less about what I do with my body, ya know? It's okay to have sex, it's okay to drink 'til oblivion, I can dye my hair whatever I want. Oh, freedom. I love living away from home.

I have to buy warmer clothes. I ordered a sweater online but I tracked it today and it's apparently on back order. So I probably won't get it until it's too cold out to just wear that. Fuckin' shit. Oh well. But I need warmer clothes. Nothing here really suffices, ya know?

I want to go to the gym now. Not wait until 7pm to go. I just want to feel better about myself. I'm doing it for me.

Uhh....yeah. This was a pointless blog that I'm sure people skimmed through. Nothing frantastic in this blog. Nothing life changing. Just me thinking out loud about all of the things I have to do coming up.....shut up.

And I took out my tongue twice removed from my face

Across a bridge and across the mountains

Threw a nickel in a fountain

To save my soul from all these troubled times

And all the drugs that I don't have the guts

To take to soothe my mind

So I'm always sober

the power to be

My sunflowers stare me in the face at all times. It's like their brown, fuzzy centers are eyeballs that look at everything I do, and hairy ears that hear all that I say. And, perhaps, report it back to Ryan. Like, "Yes sir, she said nice things about you" or "No sir, she did not cheat on you" or "She is wearing cute underwear today, so you should definitely visit today." Silly, I know, but that would be funny (and way creepy) if it did happen that way. But my flowers are muy pretty even though most of them are wilting already. And I think I'm going to ask for calla lilies next. Or orchids. Or maybe orchids and calla lilies together in a bouquet. It shouldn't seem selfish that I ask for these from him because I think I deserve them, ya know? I never ask anything from anyone, and Ryan for that matter, and I feel like every girl should have something pretty to look at. Especially something pretty given out of affection. My favorite sunflower has a little bee on its fuzzy eyeball. And it's my favorite because Ryan said he saw it and automatically thought of me. An extra something that he wanted to do for me beause he knew it would make me happy. I named it Gus because it's a total Gus and everything cute, according to me, is now named Gus. Anywho, I don't feel badly when I ask for some things from him because I basically don't. Typically, he just gives. But I don't go around saying "buy me this, buy me that." More often than not, when he tries to pay for things that I want, I tell him to shove off. I try to be self-sufficient. *shrugs* Last night I told him that I wanted to see The Little Mermaid on Broadway and he said he'd look at tickets online. And ya know what? I'm not consumed with guilt for asking because he wants to do nice things for me. It made him happy that I asked for it because he knew that I really wanted it and he wants to do things for me that I really want because it makes me happy. And seeing The Little Mermaid would make me happy. It just makes him happy to know that i'm happy. Gross, I know.

I have a book idea and I want to start writing. But there's really no point. Why? Because I have no time and it never sounds the same way on paper as it does on my head. But it would be really funny and it would be a great movie too. Entertaining, yet with good moral standings. I guess I'm an entertaining, moral kind of gal. No, not really. But I want to mock society and make it laugh in the process. It won't happen, so whatever. Suck it.

And I'm still not artistic enough...I need to be artistic.

And....my roommate comes home tonight. Boo hoo. I liked having my own room this week. *sigh*

And I just found out the other hamster died :(


I am a moth
Who justs wants to share your light
I’m just an insect
Trying to get out of the night
I wanna stick with you, because there are no others

forget about your house of cards

I went home a few days ago. And in this time I had to clean out my old room. I found an old journal that I started but never finished. I read some of the shit I said. How things change. My life now is nothing like I imagined it at sixteen. My attitude toward others is not the same, my self-esteem is not the same, how I loved is different. It was a weird trip back to my old state of mind. I read something about my plans to go to a two year school (most likely Suffolk) and then go into the Peace Corps. And from there I would decide exactly what I wanted to be. I still want to be in the Peace Corps, but I opted for a four year institution instead. And a job to pay off the loans I have...then maybe I'll try to save the world. I wrote about how I want to live in England...now, I just want to get the fuck out of the United States. I'm about to bust.


I dont know why I started any of this if I'm not going to finish it. Typical Gemini. I have to get ready for work though. Sigh. Peace and love.

out of my hands for now

This country is so fucked up, I can't believe it. I can't believe that we haven't died already.

broke as i'll ever be...

I should be doing my homework right about now. Yeah...I got some math homework which will probably be a joke. And I have Human Sexuality homework which will probably be fun. So, all in all, between jokes and fun, I should be giggling my little (yet meaty) ass off. But no. I don't want to laugh. Well, I do. But not from homework. I bought a book about orgasms. Called Orgasms. Research purposes, ya know? Well. yeah. And I just finished reading Fight Club. I just want to fucking read my own shit. I fuckin' hate school for this purpose. I have five books I want to read but they will sit on the shelf (pun?) because I gots me some homezworkz to be doin' up in here.

I'm relatively impressed with my ipod's headphones right now. They're still the ones that Andrew gave me--and typically they suck. But I think it's because my ears are void of wax. Typically, the little ear buds do not stay in my ears for shit and I am constantly shoving them down my ear hole so I can listen to a song. But I'm towelin' it up as of current, thus I just cleaned my ears and made them waxless. So I guess they're staying? Ehh...

So, please read Fight Club. It's a very good book, written very well. It makes you cringe. It makes you bite your bottom lip. It makes you want to stop reading only because it's really good. If that makes sense. Every so often a book comes along that makes you feel things in a unique way. And this is one of those books. I look forward to reading more by this Chuck man :)

Ermm....what else? I have Dorito breath. I should never eat Doritos ever again. Who wants to kiss a girl with Dorito breath.

I should put lotion on my body and get crackin' on some math and sex shit.

I know crazy people. Crazy people are in those walls, always talking and looking. They're crazy. Or am I the crazy one?

{I felt like crying

So I swallowed him instead}

I wear your black eyes

What I've gathered from my college experience thus far: it is much more than it ever was Freshman year. I have that congested feeling in my chest. Where if I think of all that I have to do and learn and keep up with, it tightens and I feel the stress rising in my chest. And to escape, it travels to my shoulders...as per usual. But, oh boy, do I feel it. And see it on my face :(

And in these changes that I have experienced over the past two weeks or so, I have felt out of place. Like I do not fit in with the people that I study amongst. I am nothing like the students at large. Many of the students that attend this institution do not give a shit about their studies or the well being of others outside of their shitty friends. Hofstra, for them, is high school that they get to dorm, smoke, drink and have lots of sex at. And I dont feel the same way about education (I do not drink or have sex).

To zoom in further to my experience thus far, are my classes. Two of my five classes, I feel like the minority because, well, I am. Persian, for example. Besides the fact that it stresses the fuck out of me because it's a new alphabet and new language and everything, I am the only white person in a room of nine, including professor. Now, this doesn't actually bother me in the sense that I fear they will perform odd Middle Eastern voodoo on me, but in the sense that I have a disadvantage compared to the other students in the class. They are Persian. They just seem to get it. While I don't just get it. And in this sense, I am singled out. They know I am not Persian. I have no relation to Iran whatsoever except for what I read in the news. And Sam Sharifi :) But I, myself, am not Persian. I am a minority and I am struggling. I feel like that foreign kid in your high school English class that doesn't really fit in with your other white, English speaking classmates because they're not totally familiar with the way we approach studies and our language. I am that foreign kid that struggles at first and everyone feels bad for that foreign kid because they are cute and foreign and the fact that they can't pronounce "door" like you, makes all the girls go "aww, that's cute." At least I would if I were one of the girls.

Another class that I'm a minority in is my LGBT class. I'd say there are twenty-ish kids in this class with an even mix of males and females. There are a few black people, an Asian girl, an Indian girl? and another chick that I think is Native American or something. Either way, most of the people are white or female. But I'm still a minority because I'm not gay and/or bisexual. Yes, I coin myself queer (I know the modern definition now and if you want to know why I define myself as queer, look it up) but I am not a gay man or a lesbian woman. I am a white female heterosexual who believes in sex and sexuality as open and free. But I do not share the same strife and experiences that many of my classmates do. And I'm an outcast in this sense. Yes, being in the same class as them makes me more aware but I do not totally get their experiences. Like, with coming out of the closet or growing up in a small, Conservative town as a gay person. Something along those lines. Yes, I've...dabbled. And that counts. But it's not the same. And I think I sorta get it a bit better now. Like, what it's like to feel left out of what other people are doing or feeling. What it is like to be different from the norm, which in this case, is straight. And I can only imagine what it is like to be surrounded by a bunch of straight people and to feel awkward being homosexual. Not like awkward is the right word...I can't really explain what I mean. But I'm the minority once again. And hey, I can't complain because it's a learning experience and something to carry with me. Even moreso, I do not want to take people or their experiences for granted. Now I just want everyone to feel welcome. And no, it's not like all of the gay people circle around me and taunt me for not liking the same sex, it's just that there is a sense of common experiences and understanding that I'm not totally part of.

But I am busy. When I'm not in class, I'm doing homework. When I'm doing neither of those, I'm with Ryan. I start work tomorrow, so let's just add that to my list of things to do, ya know? Right after two consecutive classes, I go right to the museum until five. And then I'm with Ryan until midnight or so. Luckily I only have one class on Friday, but after my math class, I am going to the museum again until five. And I dont know if Ryan will wait for me like he is doing for me tomorrow. He is too good to me, sometimes. But other times he holds me down so I cannot move and tickles my ear and stomach so I scream like a girly girl and can't move away from the tickling party that only he enjoys. Yeah...I love it, so he can continue to do it. But I'm so ticklish and it sucks at the same time. I'm very happy where I am. Sorta. I am happy to have what I have: education, a place to live, a caring boyfriend, good friends, et cetera. But sometimes I have to wonder what this is all for...

...I will continue school for at least another eight to ten years. After school, I work. And work and work and work until I die. What the hell is the point? Don't you feel trapped by this concept? Is this all worth it? I have so many other things that I could be doing with myself and I choose to attend classes and stress. Life should be lived, not loathed because of too much shit to do. I have Persian homework. And I will do my math homework so I dont have to worry about it tomorrow night when I'm with Ryan. Fuckin' shit. And I have to read for my other classes. It's a lot of work to do. But this is college, right? And it's supposed to pay off in the end. Yeah. We'll fuckin' see....

And I get it even moreso now. This is what college is about. It's about growing up and out and learning more things than what's in your textbooks. Going away to school helps to shed skin. Shed old insecurities and to make new ones after you teach yourself more things. I'm learning to be a good person, a good student, a good friend, a good girlfriend. I am learning that college is pivotal in that you realize things about yourself more than before. I suck at Persian right now. But I have faith in myself that I can learn some shit. And when I finish the class, I can walk away with a sense of pride and accomplishment for knowing that I did it all on my own and I didn't just give up because it was too hard. Let's face it, I'm a masochist. I like to feel the pain, in order to receive the pleasure.

Let's just study sex all of the time...

Who knows how much further we'll go on

maybe I'll be sorry when your gone

I'll take my chances

I forgot how nice romance is

I haven't been there for the longest time

throw your keys in the bowl

I think I feel things just as much as everyone else. I just dont parade my feelings around to everyone right off the bat. I'm more subtle about how I feel, ya know? Yeah, I think so.

I should get started on some homework. I have to read a chapter for Human Sexuality, a chapter for LGBT, and figure out math problems for my...you guessed it! Math class. Yeah. And Ryan is coming over again today so it might be a good idea to get choppin' on that shit now. So that is what I will do.

I think school should be okay this year. As long as I dont procrastinate too much. Or worry too much. Or not do work enough, I should be fine. I think Persian may very well be the end of my life. It is insane thus far. You want to know what the first letter of the Persian alphabet looks like? that's it. It's not an I or anything. No. It's a vertical line. Seems easy, but it's not that simple learning a foreign alphabet that looks absolutely nothing like yours. It follows with a horizontal-ish line and squigglies with dots and no dots and they connect or don't connect. And things such as that. Yeah. It'll be cool once I can read it. But I have the biggest disadvantage in my class considering I am the only white person who does not speak Persian or Hebrew. *sigh* fuck me and my boring nationality.

whatever makes you happy

whatever you want

you're so fuckin' special

endless rain into a paper cup

So what's the dealio? It's my second official day of classes here at Hofstra University (established 1935). I had two very good classes. Human Sexual Behavior will be my favorite, Im telling you this right now. I just want my professor to teach me and only me. Fuck the other forty students. Just make it me and only me. Talk to me about sex. I want to learn the most. It's all way too fascinating to not learn. I just want to know it all. So I should be the only student in that class. My LGBT class is pretty sweet too. I like my professor a lot, he's a cutie. Or QT. Whichever. lolz.

And my boyfriend is pretty cool too. But he still didn't answer my IM yet.

I have homework to do tonight. But I am still Fran and I will procrastinate. Otherwise I am not Fran. Get it? Probably not. I shouldn't be eating all of the chocolate Ryan gave me because I will be eating ice cream cake soon for Sam's birthday.

I want to go to Broadway.

And cuddle.

Thanks.

you mean well but you make this hard on me

That thing in my chest is starting to come. Like, that feeling where I will be devastated if a certain someone just leaves my life right now. I like it. It makes me appreciate him more. But it's scary to think that something will happen and I will be left alone after feeling good things. It'll just keep me on my toes. And I wonder when loves settles in. Does it only feel real once you've actually said it and feel comfortable saying it? Or is it there and feels good thus why you say it? I dont know.

I dont want to be pregnant.

I really don't.

I had my first two classes today. Persian should be okay as long as I stay on top of my studies and not on the booze. And my history class should be okay only because the other students dont seem as studious as I am. I am looking forward to tomorrow's classes; LGBT and Human Sexuality. Two classes that I am sooo happy I got into and feel privileged to be studying.

And you know what else I like? I like it when your own feelings don't matter, ya know? All that matters is the other's happiness.

And I like that a lot.

I ain't gonna take none of your foolin' around

So once upon I have a headache and a backache. I have these two aches because I was hit in my rear. The rear of my car, that is. Yes, it seems that I am an accident magnet while good songs are on. My very first accident, Sexy Back was on and now I cannot listen to that in the car while driving. My first rear ending, I dont recall what was on, but I'm sure when it comes on I subconsciously freak out and that's why I slap Andrew in the face. But this morning--7amish to be 'exact'--I was rear ended at the intersection of 112 and Woodside. The boy (and I mean boy) who was driving was paying attention to the man yelling at him in another car and not me, listening to Creedance Clearwater Revival's "I Put a Spell on You" just waiting for the light to turn green so I could get gas and then drive home and nap before driving out to Riverhead. But that didn't happen because, as I said, he wasn't paying attention. And apparently (I wasn't in their car, afterall) he slammed on the gas instead of the break in a panic when he saw me stopped and hit me in the behind. I'm thinking he was going at least 25ish, maybe 30ish, give or take--but I ain't no expert on this shit. And I was completely stopped. Just listening to groovy tunes, debating on what to listen to next. Yeah. Well. I hit my head on the sun visor thing so now I have a headache and I'm currently debating whether or not the pain in my back is a temporary case of insanity or if it's an actual issue that should be looked at by a medical professional. All on their insurance OF COURSE, because, as we all know...Reptar don't got no health insurance to pay for that shit. So yeah. I was just given my $25,000 check for school yesterday and it figures something like this would happen, so by chance I would have to spend it on *this* and not school. But let's not get carried away! I got books to read and notes to take. Not to mention the tests I gotta pass to study some shit that really wont make a difference anyhow. Something a little funny about this whole thing though? It all goes back to Sexy Back because I say so. I had my kangaroo full of cd's in the car last night and Andrew found the cd with Sexy Back on it--and its presence did, in fact, grace Chunk's musical slit...though I did not play it except to pass it. So it is JT's fault. But now that I think of it, was my kangaroo in the car the night of my first accident? And second? Because maybe it's that fuzzy marsupial's fault and not Timberlake's. Either way, I just want kisses and a hug. Pretty please? With sugar on top?

I got my cat moves

That so upsets them

Zippers and buttons

Fun to frustrate them

They get so angry

Like pouty children

Denied their candy

I laugh right at them

Dad would dream of all the different ways to die

I want to cry for the world sometimes. Don't you? Don't you feel a burden resting in your chest because the world is in such a state? I feel like it's partly my fault for not doing more to begin with. I should just help people and hug people and know medicine and every language so I can teach people how it should be, not how it is, and then people would smile more and help others more and teach others more and then the world would be better. Because it all works like that. It always starts with one person and it spreads. It spreads like wild fire. I want to be wild fire. Don't you want to be wild fire? I pity anyone who doesn't want to ravage the world with kindness. Everyone should want things to be better for everyone. I'm sad for this planet and every living and non-living thing here. But looking back at history and the progression of the human species, it is inevitable that we would do. The earth knows how much we suck. The earth knows it has to cleanse itself of the evil it has supported over the billions of years. Mother Earth is like a single parent kicking the loser child (us) from the basement and into the real world. Only the "real world" is death and basement is the planet. I guess Mama Earth is commiting suicide to feel better. We are a horrible cold that she can't kick so she's kickin' the bucket instead. And it's all our fault because we didn't want to do better for eachother. We all suck.




built a tower tumbling to the trees.

It's so sad to see the world agree

People amaze me sometimes.

A paranoia has washed over me like waves over already wet sand. I am wet sand. The kind that gets stuck between your toes and feels mushy. And you hate it. So you step further into wet sand to reach the waves that will wash it away, but then walking away from the waves, you only touch the wet sand again. I am a vicious cycle that repeats. I am disgusting and I never have a point to me. I am told I deserve only the best. Do I really? Sometimes I feel like I am just a human who deserves to be treated like a human, not treated like the best. The best what? The best human? We're all fucking equal, man. We all deserve to be treated like the best. And we're fucking not because we're too busy hatin' on shit. Wow. This all turned into shit that it should not have. Anyways...

I'm happy. And I feel fulfilled and ready to take on black. Because I am light and light overcomes darkness. Doesn't it?

I need to get shitfaced. I dont want to feel anything but heat in my legs. No more heat between my legs.

Fuck you.

dream

Sometimes you just dont feel good enough. Sometimes, no matter how much you preach self-love and self-respect--and no matter how much you feel it--it's never enough. Just feeling wrong in your own skin and feeling like you're the most disgusting and pathetic thing that God created. And yes, God created you because it's His fault for you being this way. He wanted you to be disgusting. He wanted you to hate yourself and how it feels to have someone else's hands on your skin. I'm all for the human form. I'm all for being expressive wiht your body. But I'm claustrophobic with my own body. I just can't do it. Not "it" but it. So shut the fuck up. I just want to be like a beautiful song and not be judged for having honest and raw lyrics. I just want to be beautiful. And better than beautiful. I dont want a word that can describe me. I just want to have that it factor.

I dont know how I feel about people sometimes.

I just want to give kisses.

Celebrate, you and me, climbing

Two by two, to be sure

These days continue, things we cannot change

I shall

I dont want to exist on the internet anymore. I just realized how utterly creepy it is, ya know? To just have a website where people can see you when they want, talk to you when they want, think of you when they want. To talk online and not see the person you are talking with. People take advantage of people online. Having all of these accounts online means I am losing touch with people, ya know? I am focusing more on non-existant socialization than going out there and being productive. I think it's fucking ridiculous. I want to banish from Facebook and Myspace, this and other websites. I dont want to be here anymore. No one should be here anymore. We should all be doing other shit, like riding bikes to gardens and having picnics in front of a field of wildflowers. Not posting bulletins and sending Facebook bumper stickers to show that you care and exist.

conquest

When will the fighting end? Can we give peace a chance? Too many people dying. Too much violence. Too much bloodshed. War in Iraq, tensions with Iran and North Korea, genocide in Darfur and North Korea, bombings in Georgia by the Russians, murdering at Olympics, fighting in Sri Lanka. Like seriously? What is this world coming to? Complete shit that's what. No one wants to chill out. Everyone uses their guns and bombs and kills someone who disagrees. I dont understand these concepts, ya know? It's fascinating what human beings are capable of. Why are we killing eachother off like this? We have been co-existing on this planet for too long and it's about time that we all die and start over again. Isn't that terrifying? Instead of being rational, we hate and kill. How can we be a superior species of animal if we're more barbaric than our fellow furry friends? We as humans are not better. We declare war on other countries knowing that it willl harm millions of other people. We dont like a specific group of people so we rid of them like fleas. We are greedy bastards who care too much about power and we will stop at nothing to show this power. I am just tired of all of the violence. I am frightened at how inhumane we all are. I am terrified that people are hardened by such news these days. Bombings in foreign countries doesn't seem to phase us as much these days, ya know? Like, "Seventy people in Georgia died because a bomb was set off? Oh, hhmm. So anyway, about this itch I have..." It irritates me to no end that we behave like we do. And I know not everyone is like that. I for one am not. I dont kill people because I'm a greedy, power-hungry, possessive asshole. I have too much compassion for other humans to even think of harming another. I just want to help everyone, ya know? Just make them feel better, even if for five minutes. Even if I lied and told them everything would be okay, and they were smiling as someone shot them in the head, I'd think maybe they died with happiness or hope. And that is important. It's always the peace-keepers that are killed though. And that, even moreso, shows what kind of species we are. Think of those in our history who wanted nothing but peace for the fellow man and were killed for it. It's too radical. It's too freeing. It's too scary to live in a place where no one is hated and everyone can just chill and drink and hang with peeps. We can't have people who get along in this world. It's filthy, isn't it? We are ending this world. We apparently want it to end. We kill eachother. We kill the planet. We kill ourselves.

All we are saying...

...Give peace a chance

It's the best I had

Once upon a time

There was a cone

And it saw this mom

And this mom took pots

And told herself to stop

All the drinking

And to stop all the ticking

And she killed herself

With a blunt object

To her throat.

And her kids saw the blood

And they tasted the metallic in the air

And for once in their lives

They knew how to hate.

And the cone

Lived happily ever after.

I just can't take this

My new blogs are so shitty these days. It's disgusting and you should throw up everywhere.

Oh, and welcome to August.

Crispy crispy Benjamin Franklin

Yes, that's right. I posted the Dove Beauty Campaign. Why? Because the human form is nothing to be ashamed of. I feel like most people are. They hide from themselves because they dont feel good enough. Look above. I don't see anything wrong with those women. In fact, I'd consider them almost perfect, even though they do not possess the sexiest bodies ever. Why do I think they are near perfect? Because they are not me. I still compare these chicks to myself and say how my human form is worse than theirs. But my body is still not something to be ashamed of. Why? Because it's my body and how can a body be ugly? We as humans are beautiful. Period. And I am sick of people feeling ashamed of the body. Like uneven breasts or knobby knees are parts to be embarassed about. Stretchmarks or stomach flab is a crime? I don't think so. Maybe on the runway. But fuck that. They should eat a twizzler.

I just feel so ugly sometimes. I know I am not. But I just feel absolutely disgusting in my own skin. Like I am not worthy of existance. I am not worthy of being called beautiful. I feel so dissatisfied with myself sometimes and I wish that no one could ever see me at my worst again.

But I will never be good enough for everyone. All is well that ends well.

Sweet kisses I miss

What was my point to this?

I dont really know.

I don't wanna be Moses

Don't wanna part the Red Sea

I don't wanna be Moses

Any of that shit I read.

*

I don't wanna be Moses

Don't wanna fuckin' believe in the Red Sea

I don't wanna be that shithead Moses

Because his faith failed me.

I feel fine.

I'm talking about peace of mind.

I'm gonna take my time.

I'm getting to good times.

I love the way you say good morning

I dont know what is going to happen to my academic future. Housing is difficult, loans may not come on time, I don't know if I will be accepted into Hunter, I have no idea what the hell I will become after all of this money that I spend. Is it ever really worth it though? All of this money to learn things I could learn if I had a membership to the public library? Hmmm...

I feel...satisfied. I dont know what else to say except for that. I just feel like even though I never have money and I have no idea what my future will bring, it's okay. My chest still feels full. My heart is beating and pumping blood and doing what it is supposed to involuntarily. It doesn't feel as close to some as it used to but that is okay because I am breaking out and doing a new thing. My soul is just satisfied as of now. I mean, I know why. Do you? Probably. Probably not. All I do know is that I have missed this feeling and I don't want it to go away. In fact, I wan't my chest to feel like it is going to explode, that is how full it gets. I want to be brimming with excitement and I want my lips to always be turned upward and my hands to always fidget and only be calm in someone else's.

I think it is safe to say that I was in a mild depression a while ago. Just the way life was not working in my favor and how I reacted to it...mild depression. Just throwin' that out there.

I know that everything's not lost.