Just to sleep underneath your bed

So, once upon a time I started this trend called online dating. It seems that my success story gave ten people within my circle of friends the desire to start their own and find love. And perhaps it's getting out of hand? Yeah, most likely.

I start school tomorrow. I start school in a new place: Manhattan. Crazy, eh? I'm not used to commuting, ya know? My college experience has been a ten minute walk to the other side of campus, not traveling two hours west to go to school, only to come back in the other direction. I'm not sure if I'll ever finish college. Since I've started this whole college thing, I've had the mindset that I would transfer. Now. I have transferred. Does this mean that I'm going to stay? I hope so. But I think my mind is just wired to leave one place. I can't imagine me actually completing college, just taking classes, ya know? Just learning and stressing for a few semesters then finding a new place to do the same. Do this for a few years and give up with nothing to show for it but $60,000 in loans.

I'm in that phase again where I hate myself. It seems to be a roller coaster. For a few days I'm in full acceptance and I think that eveyrthing will be alright. And then I try on a pair of pants that were too loose two years ago and are too tight now and I hate myself. I think it's because I feel trapped. It's much harder to lose the weight now than it was in high school. Looking back, I was much harder on myself than I had to be. There was nothing wrong with my weight or size, but I never thought of myself as decent. And now, where I am now, I wish I was there again. I just don't want people who haven't seen me in a year to look at me and think "she has gained a lot of weight since I last saw her." Don't ask why there is such a focus on how much I weigh. Because it's really not the most important thing. But since it's on my mind so much I automatically assume that's what most people are going to think as well. And I know it's partly my fault. I complain but do nothing about it. Instead of walking at the park right now, I'm sitting on my bed writing about how I hate the way I look. What got me started in tenth grade was looking at old pictures of myself and being disgusted with the way I looked at that moment. That was the fire under my ass to be healthier. And it worked. I thinned out a lot in tenth grade, gained some weight throughout junior and senior year and by prom I was great because I walked a few miles each day in the park. And then college started and the Freshman thirty began and it's been hard ever since. Yeah, I'm gonna go to the park now. I need that fire under my ass again.


I feel it in the air
The summer's out of reach

Someday, when I'm awfully low...

It's been awhile. What's up? I have almost a thousand songs on my new i pod touch :) It's pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

Greyhounds are not ugly.

Semen stains the mountain top

Turn turn turn. I don't know what's going to become of my life. It's been a while since I've written in this thing. Just been too busy. Too much doing nothing, doing everything, hanging out. Not having more than three moments to myself. No more having my own space to do whatever I want. Less of being independent. More spanking and liking it. More orgasms and I can't complain. Less cuddling because there is less time. More feeling down on myself. More not knowing how Hunter is going to work out because my immunizations aren't in check (I paid $20 to get nowhere from my old doctor). More self-loathing. More hoping to change the world, more willing to settle for not changing the world. More wondering if people just settle. Turn turn turn. I saw my brother after Christmas...he seems to have gone from a young whipper snapper who knew what life was *really* about to caring more about the kind of speakers he had in his living room. As though they really count for shit. Turn turn turn. But maybe my perception about what life is really about is wrong. It's just a figment of my young mind. Life is really about having a nice home and nice cars and nice things and settling for the comforts of the Western world. Not discovering a new direction that isn't on a compass. Who can unlock what life is really about though? Many great women and men have asked this question for centuries, and no solid answer suffices. I guess life is meant for living...and what that living actually means is different for everyone. Just getting by isn't fair but it's worth it, while having more money than one knows what to do with is consequential, yet desired. And what exactly will my life become? With Ryan I see it one way. But if I were single, I would think of new ways to live in my thirties and forties. Turn turn turn. I think about love a lot lately. Mostly because I am in love. Sometimes I think my love isn't good enough for him because he is much more vocal about how much he loves me and how happy I make him. And at first I felt inadequate, but then I thought of it in the sense that everyone feels it differently. Two people in love may experience love--and both claim they are totally enamored--but what that absolute ga-ganess means to each person is something different. Intensity and perception are wild things, aren't they? Thus, anything that anyone says must be taken with a grain of salt because it will never match your own outlook. Crazy. In conclusion, I don't feel bad about being in love and how I feel because how I love is different than how he loves, but it doesn't mean that I mean it any less. Turn turn turn.





I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light