Baby, baby, baby

I have come to accept the fact that I will never be perfect. Actually, I dont think there was ever a time where I strived for perfection. Mostly because it doesn't exist. I am, however, extremely critical of myself, and my idea of "great" may seem like perfection to someone else. But I think that it's unattainable and relative; what's the point in killing yourself for something that doesn't exist? I strive to do my best and that's all I can ask out of myself, and anyone for that matter. (As the quintessential artist Jay-Z(you may have heard of him?) once said: I don't demand nothin' of my friends I don't demand of myself. Well, it was more like nuffin' and maself...but even when I write I sound like a white girl, so forgive me). I thought of this tonight when I was in Sam's room alone. In between rummaging through her private things, sabotaging friendships back in Washington, and breaking her computer, I looked down at the worn bottom of my jeans and the holes in my socks. I laughed at it. In the end, holes in socks and torn jeans don't matter but we make them matter. Time to throw out socks with one hole in them and time to buy new jeans when the bottoms are not perfect. I mean, I dont look like a scrub, I just look comfortable and broken in and the fact that my clothes aren't ideal, makes me happy. I feel like I've accomplished something with that one tear; it's a bragging right or at least something to joke about. I dress in clothes that I like, not what is fashionable. Yeah, I guess there are some things that I wear that are considered "in" (probably just my bras) but who cares? My professor from last semester, Naymark, said that over grooming (discussing metrosexuals) shows low self-esteem because there are more important things to worry about than vanity. How true is that? I would not be caught dead shopping in Abercrombie or Hollister (that shit is a joke) nor would I wear it, even if it was handed to me...unless I needed new ninety dollar dusting cloths. Clothes don't make you perfect. Exercise doesn't make you perfect. Vanity doesn't make you perfect. So I've decided to give up on trying to please everyone else's expectations. I've decided to throw out the concept of perfection like a dirty tissue filled with the green shit that I have been hacking up.

Yes, I am still sick. And I have an earache. All I wanted to do was call my mommy and have her tell me what to do to make it better. I wanted her to make me soup, then tell me to grow up and get over it because it's only an earache. But mommies help sometimes, ya know? Ya just need that mother around when you have a cold. Karen and Sam were good mommies to me while I was sore all over. I mean, Karen is my mommy and Sam is my aunt, but they made me eat even when I wasn't hungry and they told me what would make me feel better. Those two are just good people, ya know? They care a lot about the well-being of others and I'm glad I met both of them =).

So yeah. There is snow on the ground. It's absolutely perdy...but it's a pain in the arse. Luckily I dont have to go to class tomorrow, but it's annoying to walk through. I'd like to walk around campus at 3am and hear nothing but the wind blowing in one ear and out the other (since, ya know, I have no brain). Snow is so peaceful and calming. I love stepping on snow that no one else has stepped on. However, I stomp to mark my territory. If I had a penis (easy access), I would be like a dog and pee on it, but a) I dont have a penis (uh duh) and b) it would just melt the snow...or eventually evaporate as Coral and I found out the funny way =) Good times!!!!!!! I could pee in it now, but that involves squatting and bad things could happen like that...real bad things...

I'd like to get drunk soon, but I need to get better first. I personally feel that sipping some of grandma's good ol' cough syrup would do me some good (grandma always liked margaritas and wine...and if she was in the mood, Jack Daniels) and help me forget about all of my troubles.

Oswald and I are doing well. I believe we are getting married next spring. His parents are kind of iffy about us because of the age difference but my dad is proud and my mom is crocheting a wedding gown for me. It might be kinda warm in the spring, but at the rate of global warming, it might keep me warm in a May blizzard.

I heard something and it made me turn red. Oh shucks...

Good night, skanks and hos out in blogger land. Don't forget:

bitches ain't shit but hos and tricks.

<3