Holy Shit

It has been OVER A MONTH! Man I suck. It's just because I feel SO BUSY all the time. Especially last week. But I have exhausted that story so many times, I don't feel like telling it again right now.

I kinda just came back to remind myself this was here, and that I should get my shit together and start posting again. I should get my shit together in life in general, actually. Maybe this will be the first step.

Less depressing news... Finally!

DISCLAIMER: I have felt very unfocused and off my game today. This may or may not make sense. 

Why do I always leave all my homework until the last minute? And of course, the irony is that it is Labor Day. SIGH.

Anyway, so a lot of things have happened since I last posted. School started, which is exciting! This is supposed to be my final year, so I'm finally getting to take all sorts of fun classes and no fluff classes, like Natural Disasters (wtf?) or some shit like that. This semester, I am taking (list format helps me remember):

• LGBT Literature
• Adolescence in Literature
• Creative Drama (a theater class, not a study of drama or worse, WRITING dramatic works)
• English Grammar for Prospective Teachers
• Teaching Composition in Secondary School
• Fieldwork in Community Settings 

It is sixteen units in total, with all of them being three except the last one, which is only one unit. I am the most excited about my LGBT lit class; we're reading all sorts of awesome authors like Shakespeare and Whitman and Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray, wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and whatnot. My first semester at SDSU, I took a writing class and we had to analyze a piece of literature from three different perspectives -- two little papers and then one fifteen-page main paper, and for my big paper I did a Lesbian, Gay, Queer perspective analysis of The Picture of Dorian Gray so I feel all knowledgeable about that piece, and it'll be really interesting to further discuss it. My Adolescence in Lit class seems fun too, and we aren't reading Catcher in the Rye so I am a happy girl, because I HATE THAT BOOK SO MUCH. I am petrified about my Creative Drama class -- we have to do like improv games and stuff, and I have crippling stage fright (I think I've discussed this before), and we also have to make a lesson plan at the end of the semester which is also scary to me. I'M NOT READY! The grammar class is eh; I love linguistics and it is interesting, but it is definitely on the bottom of my class list this semester, only because I am taking so many super awesome other classes! I've had the teacher before, though, so I know what to expect for the most part. The last two classes are linked; for the second, I mostly have to do 30 hours of volunteer work (well, only 12.5 for the class, but it's 30 for the credential program so I might as well get all 30 knocked out) and some online discussion/reflection things, but for the FIRST one, it is going to be intense. It's all about rhetoric, and I have never taken a rhetoric class before, so that is a new thing. I mean, the first day I was like MIND. BLOWN. because I have never thought about things like that before. Also we have to write things like our philosophy of teaching which is scary to me, because I don't really sit down and analyze what I think about things like teaching, so it will be a whole new experience for me. I am kind of scared, but I think after this semester is over, the Teaching Comp. class will be my favorite out of all of them.

Aside from school stuff, Boy has been upgraded to Boyfriend and I don't even know how. He took me out for my birthday on Friday and he called himself my boyfriend, so I guess that is how it is. I know I sound all unenthusiastic about it, but I am not unenthusiastic, I had just been confused about what our relationship was and now it has been clarified and that is it. He is still very sweet to me and he tolerates my craziness, like running down the stairs and jumping into his pool naked at 9:30pm, and then needing several towels because it is so effing cold. 

Speaking of my birthday, I AM 21 FINALLY! That means I have unrestricted access to almost ALL THE THINGS! My birthday was on Wednesday and I had work and school (wooo, party!) but then I went to a local sports bar with my mom and Boyfriend and my mom's friend and we had drinks, and then my mom went off with her friend and Boyfriend and I went to a local Irish pub and had MOAR drinks and I was all impressive with my extensive* knowledge about tequila (*more extensive than his, anyway). And we stayed out WAY too late because I had school the next day, too. And I think I did something on Thursday but I don't remember because I am super tired right now. But then on Friday, he took me out and brought me flowers and stuff, and then we went and had wine and pizza by the beach, and then went to a Mexican restaurant and I had a giant margarita and a tequila sunrise and a shot of tequila and needless to say I got drunk even though I didn't mean to. So I had my first drunk experience ever. Wheeee. And then there was more celebrating but no drinking on Saturday and then last night we had more margaritas and some Mike's Hard lemonade and I watched Ghostbusters because I am behind the times. 

Wow I am talking a lot. I wish I could make this more interesting or coherent but I am not functioning well today. It is a very blah day. Also it is raining ON LABOR DAY, which is practically a sin, but we barbecued anyway. Speaking of, it's time for dinner...

Sigh

I fail. At a lot of things, blogging being only one of them. Another one is life. I pretty much fail at it.

So what has happened in this past month? Gee, I'm glad you asked. Although you probably didn't and you probably are going to regret that I pretended you did.

Okay, so, let's see. Maybe mid-June, I got this phone call from a friend of mine, and when I answered, said friend was like "Oh, hey, so I realized I kind of like you and we should go on a date" and I was like "Uh" because I was completely floored and also convinced that it was a joke but I agreed to it anyway in my daze of confusion and then we tried to make plans and didn't end up being able to do anything until late-ish July because I was busy and he was traveling to Missouri to rebuild homes in Joplin after the tornado and then HE was busy and all sorts of stuff got in the way, but we finally went out and it felt more like hanging out with a friend instead of actually dating but it was fun anyway. Oh and I also really had to pee and I walked into like four businesses and NONE OF THEM HAD BATHROOMS WTF. That is not relevant to the story, I just don't understand these businesses and the lack of toilet facilities.

Anyway, I had been feeling like crap about myself, I mean more than normal, and the date was nice at least because it made me feel special and cared about which was cool. But then I came back home and reality hit and my mom was like "Why do you smell like alcohol" and I said "I don't know because all I drank was water" and she was like "Well you smell like alcohol. What did you do?" and I said "Nothing?" and she said "I can tell you're hiding something from me" and I was like "WTF" so yeah. And then I started arguing with a friend of mine because we have issues to say the least, and my fun night was RUINED.

So then, that friend who I have been complaining about because he would go to a forum I am a part of and check if I was online and that skeeved me out but I don't want to say too much about him because I am pretty sure he found this blog and I don't want to cause MORE drama because I am sick of drama -- HIM, we are not talking really anymore. I mean, occasionally, but he was making me feel bad about myself and acting like he was blaming me for things that were happening in his life like his friends arguing amongst themselves and his  air conditioner breaking and even though I knew it was not my fault, I am very susceptible to guilt-tripping because of my previous relationship history in which I was conditioned to believe everything was my fault, so it made me upset and I mostly stopped talking to him. Especially since he is still not "over me" and that is always kind of awkward. SIGH.

SO THEN. My mom and I have been fighting kind of more often lately. See, here's the problem. She knows how to push my buttons. And I am notoriously bad at articulating myself ANYWAY, but when I get upset, my ability to explain things plummets and I am left floundering and crying and then my mom calls me a drama queen and says I need counseling which makes me cry harder because I know that if I could just explain myself, she would understand, but I just CAN'T, and then that makes me sound like an emo kid and then I wonder if I really DO need counseling, especially since it has been two years since I've gotten out of an abusive relationship and I STILL act the same way, so clearly I am fucked up in the head.

The drama really exploded a few days ago when I got this email that I was going to be getting my financial aid within the next two days. I decided to check my bank account because sometimes SDSU sends out emails about things they are going to do after they've actually done it. In doing this, I noticed there was a charge on my bank account which I hadn't made. So that was exciting, but it was late at night so I couldn't do anything about it until the following morning. Well, I woke up the next day and told my mom EVERY DETAIL, starting with the financial aid email (this is important) and the charge and whatnot. I guess I should have already said that my mom had been asking me when the tuition is due, and I kept telling her that I didn't know, and that there's no date posted for when it's due (I have deferred tuition payments, so I don't have to pay when I register like everyone else), but it's probably due sometime before the semester starts. Well, I checked my bank account later that day and noticed I miraculously had like 500 more dollars than I had the previous night. When I checked it out, I noticed it was a financial aid deposit from SDSU. Which really confused me, because the smallest of my deposits should have been 1100 dollars. Then I had a lightbulb moment, and I went and added up the financial aid I was due, and subtracted my tuition, and BAM. That was the 547 bucks that had been deposited into my account. This irritated my quite a bit, because I could probably get my loan money back but not the 1100 dollar Pell grant because that is government money, so I basically lost 600 bucks because my mom hadn't paid my tuition. So I texted her and told her she didn't have to pay tuition because SDSU already took it from my financial aid (probably not the best way to handle it, in hindsight). She calls me later, and starts out with "You never told me when it was due" and I was like "That's because I DON'T KNOW WHEN IT IS DUE. WHAT PART OF THAT IS DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND" and she says "Well, I'm not taking responsibility for this" and I said "FINE" and hung up because I am mature like that. But I was pissed! I had set up an account specifically for her so she could log in and pay the tuition, but I guess she had forgotten about it, and she was blaming me for all this and leaving me with less money than I was counting on for paying my car payments and my books and parking permit because, did I mention? I'm only working seven hours a week this semester, which is two hours more a week than last semester, which equates to about fifteen dollars more that I am making over my car payment. And since I only work FOUR FULL MONTHS, that means I make a grand total surplus of SIXTY DOLLARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I was really counting on that three thousand plus dollars to help me with my expenses. But instead, I only got a fraction of it, and was still expected to pay my loan money back even though I didn't get it. See, another thing that aggravates me is that my mom told me she's paying for four years of tuition only. Which means this is the last year, which means I was expecting her to pay this semester's tuition. So that was irritating. BUT. She's really only paying for two years, because when I was in community college, which BY THE WAY I went to to help save her money, I got free tuition, so it was extra frustrating that I was left with this burden because I already feel kind of gypped even though I would never tell her that, but I felt totally screwed for this semester.

Wow, that is a long and probably incoherent paragraph. But the story is not done yet. So she comes home later that day, and we get into this HUGE argument. I mean, huge. She is screaming and I am screaming and she is like 'I KNOW YOU THINK I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER" and I'm like "WHAT THE FUCK, WHEN DID I SAY THAT. ALL I SAID WAS THAT I THINK THIS IS MOSTLY YOUR FAULT" and she was all "FINE, IT'S ALL MY FAULT. HERE, TAKE ALL MY MONEY. ALL THE MONEY. BECAUSE I AM A SHITTY MOTHER AND I FUCK UP EVERYTHING" and I'm like "*sobs* I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE. PLEASE STOP" and dramatic stuff like that. And then she calls me a drama queen and says I need counseling as usual and then goes down the hall and doesn't come back out, also as usual. And then I find out that she has deposited $8000 into my account for no reason. So we start fighting the next day, and she's like "I don't want you to be inconvenienced in any way" and I keep telling her she is ridiculous and that I was just frustrated and I am sorry I thought it was mostly her fault and then she starts being mean and I start crying and she makes fun of me for crying and it is ugly and unpleasant.

So all that happened yesterday and the day before. Needless to say I wake up today and I am just feeling completely emotionally and physically drained, so I lay in bed all day and accomplish nothing but feeling worthless. Well, I also had a massage scheduled today for my birthday as a gift from my mother so I'm feeling all guilty as I go in, because I know she is all angry and hate-y towards me. Anyway, long story short, I don't feel good after the massage because my back is super tight and knotty because I am stressed ALL THE TIME, and for some reason I have a headache afterwards, too. When I got home, I just kind of sat down and drank some water because whoa, it was like 99 degrees and HUMID outside which did not help. And when my mom got home, she was decidedly not talking to me. Which is not good. It means she is angry, maybe not at me but just at life in general. So eventually she asks me how my massage was, and I very carefully answer it so as to make it seem like I enjoyed the massage more than I actually did without lying, because I don't want her to think I'm a complainer, ungrateful, or a liar. Well she eventually pries it out of me that I am sore and I have a headache from the massage, and she goes "Well you should have TOLD HER that it hurt you. And you probably haven't been drinking enough which is why you have a headache" in a totally unpleasant tone of voice, but I just let it go and tell her that the massage itself didn't actually hurt, it was just afterwards that it started to hurt. Anyway, we get in another argument because I didn't get any meat out for dinner, because she always yells at me when I mess the cupboards or freezer up when I'm looking through them, and I didn't want to make her angry so I just figured since I couldn't find chicken easily, that I would just buy dinner and she could help me find chicken for next week. Apparently that was the WRONG decision, because she was irritated and was like "I don't WANT to go out for dinner, so here is some money so you can get yourself dinner and I'll just have something here," which makes NO SENSE why she would be giving me money, so I refuse it and eventually have to stuff it back in her purse because she left it sitting out for me. And I told her she was ridiculous, which ended in an argument of course because everything ends in arguments. Anyway, around 6 pm, she went down the hall and hasn't come out since, and the lights are all off and I don't know whether or not I should go to bed because she might consider me being a drama queen by going to bed super early or she also might be getting irritated because maybe she is trying to sleep and my being awake down the hall with the light and TV on is making her angry. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

Also my birthday is in a few days and I am totally not looking forward to it because all the bad things happen on my birthday and seeing how these past few days have been, I am just dreading what's going to happen on my birthday. And my mom asked me where I wanted to go eat out for dinner, but I don't know if that applies anymore since she seems to pretty much be repulsed by/unable to stand my presence and she gave me $8000 that I can't give back to her. And I don't know if I want to go anyway, because I don't know how much money she has. And if she even wants to be around me. And I don't know where to go anyway. And I have a night class that night, so I won't get home until late. So I guess I'll have to see what happens when I get home from class and try to judge the water from there.

Some good news, though. That boy, from the beginning of this post? Well, we went out on a few more dates, and we're actually dating regularly now, and he's like "I told you I liked you, and I'm not going anywhere" and he HASN'T and I met his parents and they like me and he is really super sweet to me and makes me feel good when I am around him, except for the panicky part of myself but that will have to be explained another time, because I think I've talked your ears off enough, for Christ's sake. But I guess the point is, it's not ALL horribly awful. Only most of it.

Friday Failure

So I totally failed at reading this week. Which explains why Friday went by and there was no post about books. I really intended to finish my book, and at first, I was like "YAY BOOK I LOVE THIS BOOK" and then "YAY ANOTHER BOOK! I LOVE THIS BOOK TOO!" and then "MAYBE I SHOULD FINISH HARRY POTTER INSTEAD OF STARTING TWO NEW BOOKS" combined with "INTERNET FOREVER!!" and needless to say I am like 30 pages into the book I was going to talk about. So no dice for this week. And now I'm getting yelled at so I can't even finish this. SIGH.

Adventures with Spike - Bath Time

This post is brought to you by allergies.

So I gave my dog a bath today because he was itchy as hell. Now, Spike LOVES baths. Bath time with Spike consists of him trying to escape while wondering why I'm being so mean to him.

Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me!

Now, I always try to make things exciting by talking in a high pitched voice like this is the most fun thing I have ever done, ever as I'm pouring the warm water over him. "WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! BATH TIIIIIIIIIIIIME!!!!!!!!!! BAAAAAAAAAATH TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WE LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE BATH TIME, YES WE DO, YES WE DO!!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Normally that would cause Spike to go into a wiggly, flaily mess, except I'm pretty sure that makes it worse in the tub, because he'll look up at me like he's going to die the more excited I get. 

Then comes time for the soap. To me, this would be the best time of bath time, because it's like a massage, right? And dogs love being patted. Petted? Pat? Whatever. So I get the soap in my hand (with a little exclamation like "Ooooooo, it's sooooap tiiiiiiiiiiiime!!!!!!1") and I start scrubbing and scratching my dog, paying special attention to the places I know he loves being scratched. I've stopped with the excited voice by this point, but I still talk to him because they say your voice soothes your dog. Not during bath time.

Is this what Chinese Water Torture is like?

Poor dog. Of course I had to pile the suds on his head, too. 

When it's finally rinsing suds time, Spike has already tried to surreptitiously escape whenever I am not looking directly at him about 20 times, without fail. He moves really slowly, like I can't see him out of the corner of my eye if he moves slow enough. First, he inches to the corner of the tub. The corner is the place where he can squeeze out the easiest, you see. Then, ever so carefully, he lifts one foot and places it on the edge of the tub, all the while sneaking glances at me to make sure I'm not watching. Usually I stop him at this point, but if I don't, he'll put the second paw up there on the edge, preparing to jump. Note that he does this even if my back is turned and I am not looking at him at all. 

After he's been rinsed and dried, he'll bounce out of the tub as quickly as possible, only to shake and drench the entire bathroom. He looks to damp and pathetic and miserable at this point. 

But once he gets let out, he turns into a flailing, flopping, blurry mess.

The other blurry thing in the back there is my puppy. He's really excited.

Drying off?

Or perhaps attempting to create a rift in the space-time continuum?

Note that this was taken ten minutes after the previous ones. Yeah, he was still going.

He tears around the house like that for a good 30 minutes with a manic look I was unable to capture in the flailiness, rubbing himself on the floor, towel, and anything you don't want him to, such as your clothes, your dry-clean only blanket, and your bedsheets. Once you've laughed yourself to tears and screamed at him to get off your bed, he finally settles down with a bone or some other toy to take his aggression over the whole bath betrayal out. 

But every once and a while, I catch him walking by a low mirror after he's gotten a bath, only to pause and take a second glance, like "Damn, that's a FINE lookin dog right there."

Warning: Rambling Ahead (but there is a point!)

So I promised myself I wouldn't blog until there was something positive in my life for me to talk about. Well... there isn't really much. Nothing of note anyway. I mean I have electricity and a roof over my head but those who have those things aren't interested in hearing about that and those who don't wouldn't want to hear about it, so I can't talk about that.

Instead of continuing to complain like the whiny bitch I have apparently turned into lately, I decided I would go to my old stand-by -- books.

When I was a kid, I didn't have very many friends. Not because I wasn't a social child, but because I went to school in one city and lived in another, thereby making it pretty difficult to hang out at people's houses or go to parties or whatever. And where I lived, in a mobile home park, my neighbors were an old woman, an old man, a gay couple and a lesbian woman. Oh, and an old man who liked to wear women's panties but we didn't talk to him. All adults. And, let's face it, normal adults don't want to hang out with kids. Panty guy might have wanted to -- his penchant for wearing women's underwear was the smallest of his quirks -- but for all intents and purposes, I didn't have companions when I was growing up. None, that is, except my dog and my books.

I started reading at an early age; my mom doesn't remember how old I was, but she loves to tell the story of me hanging over her shoulder, reading her grown-up book out loud, speaking words I had never seen or heard in my life. And once I started reading, I never stopped. I always was advanced in the literature department, reading at a twelfth grade level by the end of elementary school. In kindergarten, when the teachers and volunteer parents would be reading to the students, I would be up there reading to my own group of kids right along with the adults.

Needless to say, reading offered an escape from boredom, loneliness, family troubles, money troubles, etc. when I was a child. One particular notable example comes in the form of seven little books that compose the Harry Potter series. Perhaps you've heard of it. I felt I could really relate to Harry -- we were both ten-going-on-eleven, both lonely, both not in the happiest of families (a bit of an understatement when referring to the Dursleys, but the comparison still stands), and so on. Left alone with my thoughts, I was able to escape into the magical world of Hogwarts. As Harry and the rest of the clan grew up, I grew up right along with them, year after year. When I graduated high school, Harry left Hogwarts and went on his final adventure. Even if I was just a mere Muggle, the Harry Potter characters and storyline were relatable, offering me a distraction from my daily life.

And it still does to this day, even though nowadays I'm more likely to reach for my phone to text my best friend when I need a restoration of sanity. I won't tell you how many times I've reread the series or the individual books (I'm rereading the seventh one right now), mostly because I have no idea myself. Probably somewhere in the hundreds. Yes, hundredS. But I hadn't revisited them in a long time. I had forgotten what it was like to read for pleasure, as I never get a chance during the semester due to the sheer amount of workload I have from all my classes. I can't keep up with my assigned reading, much less additional reading. Occasionally over the summer, I'd read a book or two, but I've literally read every single book in my house except maybe one or two which don't hold my attention (Bill Clinton's "My Life," I will conquer you someday) or which I'm not interested in, so when given the choice between INTERNET FOREVER! and reread Clan of the Cave Bear for the umpteenth time, I'd go for the internet.

Recently, though, I had the pleasure of being able to purchase four books (which I totally never should have bought and can't afford but oh well, I've already read three of them and most of the fourth so why return them now, right?) by Stephen King, who, by the way, is my favorite author ever. Now, King isn't the best writer in the whole world -- I doubt he's going to be winning any Pulitzer prizes or anything -- but he can weave together a story like very few can. He walks the line perfectly between the natural and the supernatural, grounding his stories in reality but allowing enough imagination to seep in that it almost seems plausible. I'm a skeptic by nature, so this balance is essential for me; for a novel to be implausible and grounded mostly in the supernatural, it has to be well-written. The Shack by William P. Young comes to mind. Wholly supernatural, horridly written. I hated it.

My love for Stephen King is evident in the number of books I own and have read of his. I own about sixteen books of his, which is more than twice the number of books that I own from any other author (well, technically I own fifteen, but my friend let me read one of his books and then called me a slut and stopped talking to me so I think that means it's mine now, right?), and I've read probably... well, less than that. Probably like fifteen, because I haven't read the two Dark Tower books I own yet but I read Carrie and I don't own that. But, again, that is way more books than any other author. OH and if you want to count short stories, then you subtract one book (because it is a short story collection) and add *counts* fourteen stories. So almost THIRTY THINGS! That is a lot of things. I've also seen four of his movies because usually his movies really suck, but The Shining, Misery (which I haven't read), The Green Mile and The Shawshank Redemption which is the greatest movie of all time but I totally haven't read the short story and it makes me a sad panda, those are all good movies.

Anyway, the point of this is, I have a huge stack of books in my to-read pile, ranging from re-reads to "I need to finish this damn book already" to books my best friend's mom gave me which I have no idea if I'll enjoy or not. And if there's one thing I get excited talking about, it's books. So to motivate myself to post, and to give myself something to look forward to, which I think I really need right now, I'm going to try, at least once a week, to write a book post. I have enough to keep me going for a while, and I can generally finish a book in a week at most. Even The Stand, once I finally got going with it, took me less than a week (it's about a 1200 page book). I polished off every single Harry Potter book in one day, and reread it a second time in about three. The only time I have difficulty finishing a book is if I'm busy, like during the semester, or if I hate it, like with Pride and Prejudice or something like that. So we'll see how well this works out. I'm hoping to get one done on Friday, and I think if I start rereading my book (One Hundred Years of Solitude, one of my favorites) tonight, I should be able to finish it by then even though it's complex and you have to pay attention. Or maybe I'll reread Pet Sematary because that book is astounding. Or maybe... actually this post is long enough so I'll just stop now.

/awkward

Humidity

What the fuck, San Diego?

Judging by my phone's weather app, it's currently 86 degrees (at 11 in the morning) and 51% humidity. FIFTY-ONE PERCENT. WHAT IS THIS.

"This" is abnormally high humidity, in case you couldn't tell. It is miserable. Last night it even started raining. RAINING. In the summer. IN THE DESERT. This is just not right. I mean, it was cool because we got that half-sun half-rain thing that almost never happens in winter so there was a rainbow, and rainbows are pretty and awesome, and it was one of those really well-formed and clear ones, but the point stands that walking outside in that rain to see the rainbow was totally almost not worth it because it felt like I walked outside into a sticky, asphalt-smelling swamp. I think summer rain smells terrible normally, like a humid nasty mess, but they recently paved my street so that strong, asphalt-y smell came up too and it was just awful. Plus, like I said, I felt like I was walking into a wall of warm water.

But, see, warm water doesn't bother me. I cannot take cold showers. I last about two minutes in them before I am like GET ME OUT NOW and then I never get clean and that's just not fun. I can handle lukewarm showers but I am pretty miserable the whole time. I have to have at least a warm shower, preferably a hot shower. Yes, even if it's 113 outside. Yes, I have taken a hot shower in these conditions. Twice. Something about humidity though, it's not anything like just plain old warm water. It's like sweat. It's exactly like some fat old hairy man sweated up in the sky and now it's all up in my atmosphere. And I do NOT find that okay.

Damn You, Leon Redbone

I am so lazy lately. Like, I'm sleepy at 9 or 10 pm, exhausted by 11, delirious by midnight. Then when I wake up, I am tired until around noon. Which, I mean, it's summer, so it's not that bad... except I still have shit to get done. For example, today, I need to clean up outside because my puppy, for some reason, has developed a very recent grudge against potted plants and has ripped two pots completely to shreds. I also have to chop up a bunch of leafy produce for my bunnies' and guinea pig's salads, figure out something to make for dinner next week, go grocery shopping, marinate some shrimp, cook dinner, separate my clothes into darks and lights for laundry, do the laundry, etc. And it is fucking FRIDAY. So I should be all energetic and whatnot and go party tonight except I am 20 so I can't do anything, and I haven't even taken a shower and it's one in the fucking afternoon. And I am sitting here in my PJs eating Cheez-its. I slept until 10:30 and from that time until now, the only productive thing I have done is probably gone to the bathroom once.

In other words, this song describes my life recently:

Even his voice makes me want to lay down and be lazy. Which is really very counterproductive.

Okay, so after that long hiatus...

Basically ALL THE BAD THINGS have happened, and a few good things happened, and some AWESOME things are coming up.

Bad things first:

• My computer has been broken and in the shop since late May I believe. Maybe very very early June. But it's basically been a month.
• A teacher from my high school, the mother of a friend of mine, died from a long battle with highly-aggressive cancer right before my high school's graduation.
• A friend of mine died a couple days later, which totally sucked and the funeral service was just confusing and sad. I still don't know how he died.
• I pretty much have zero dollars. I have 600-odd dollars in my savings account, but my car payments are 215 bucks and I have two more before I get my job back, three more before I actually start getting paid a substantial amount (not the one or two-weeks pay I get in early September). I'm going to either have to borrow some money or close my certificate of deposit, neither of which I want to do.
• I've been having MAJOR FRIEND DRAMA from a few people. Most conflicts are resolved, but a lot of friend dynamics have changed.
• My mom is like bitch-central lately. We had a fight one day (pretty commonplace these days) and I asked her in a calm, polite voice because that's totally how I talk when I'm angry at my mom why she was so unhappy all the time, and she answered in an even calmer and more polite voice that she hated her life and her job. So all that hate mixed with what's appearing to FINALLY be menopause and we have one big angry hormonal disaster. 

Okay, the good things that have happened:

• A good friend came out and visited recently, which was totally awesome. I got to go ALL THE PLACES I never go because my mom and I are always busy on the weekend and I'm not likely to go to the zoo or museum or wherever by myself if my friends are busy. It was a blast hanging out with him.
• Along with that friend-changing dynamic, I've gotten closer with a sweet little Canadian possum and I just love her to pieces. 
• My best friend turned 21 yesterday! Which is really exciting because now I have someone to buy liquor for me birthdays are exciting. Unfortunately I didn't get to hang out with him yesterday but this is the happy part, dammit.
• That's, uh... pretty much it, actually.

And then the THINGS I AM EXCITED FOR IN THE FUTURE things:

• Tonight I am going to a friend's house and drinking wine and sitting in his hot tub and it is going to be so relaxing and I can not think about all my problems or anything bad as long as I remember to shave my legs. I'm not too happy about my bikini body but he has a girlfriend so it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone here.
• My best friend's birthday party is this Saturday, where, again, I get to be in my bikini, but unless his hot cousin is there, I'm not trying to impress anyone there either. In fact, there's a few people coming I'd like to UN-impress.
• I am the most excited about a friend coming to visit in late July to early August. We are going to watch the Padres beat the Dodgers' bankrupt ass. And do other things. But mostly the beating part.

It's kind of sad that the sucky things outnumber the happy things, but part of that may be because I am starving and can't think anymore. So... I'mma go eat, since I finished my box of chocolates and my blueberries.

Small victories of the day #... 6?

Today I accomplished nothing but watering some potted plants and eating dinosaur chicken nuggets.

I also succeeded in forgetting what number I left off at, but I am not sure that counts as a victory.

So I Think I Might Accidentally Be Watching a Soap Opera

I dunno, I was sitting here not paying attention to the TV and I heard something abnormal and I looked up to overdramatic acting and convoluted storylines.

Oh, Susan Lucci just came on the TV. This is definitely a soap opera.

Okay, anyway...

So today is Memorial Day and what not, and my mom and I were trying to figure out what to do. I suggested a picnic by the bay, which is HUGE and therefore has lots of parking all along it, but she was like "Meh I don't want to deal with crowds" because she is the most impatient, least personable people person I know. So then she suggested Old Town and I was all for Old Town because I love it there and it smells like Mexican food, and I was all prepared for an afternoon of strolling about and window-shopping and maybe buying cigars because they have this sweet little cigar shop with the most awesome, nicest people ever. But THEN, she was like "Oh, let's go to Santee Lakes," and I was very meh about it because I wanted to walk around in civilization and stuff, not in nature today, but since she is the parent, she makes the calls, so Santee Lakes it is.

Or, well, was. Because even though I literally just finished cooking the pad thai for the picnic, we probably aren't going because now she has a headache.

I had a point in all of this, but I didn't get home until 1 am and didn't get to sleep until after 2 and woke up at 6 and then took a nap from like 7-8 so I didn't get much sleep so I'm not in my prime, so to speak.

Okay she came back down the hall and apparently now we're going to Fort Rosecrans/Cabrillo which I'm cool with so this was like the most pointless thing ever. Sorry.

Coffee

I am not sure you can start a rainy morning better than with a hot cup of coffee. I guess the only way it can get better is if it wasn't raining since it's ALMOST JUNE.

But if it has to rain, I'll take the coffee.

Murphy is a whorey cunt pt 2

So I'm supposed to be cleaning my room right now.

It is a mess. I mean, it probably needs a biohazard sign slapped on the door, next to my plastic rosaries our gardener found in his truck and a tiny old license plate from my trike that says my name. There are empty food wrappers, papers (some from last semester...) and clothes strewn everywhere. There's also dust. Lots of it.

So yesterday I figured I'd do the closet. That closet has been in need of a thorough cleaning for years but it's easy to ignore what lies behind closed doors. But no more. It was getting cleaned out, I decided yesterday. I even took the fucking doors off. So I took all of the boxes and dumped then on the floor, tried on a bunch of clothes, threw out a bunch of shit, etc. And I found some WEIRD stuff. In an old backpack, I found play doh I had gotten for Christmas two years ago (Yes, I got play doh for Christmas when I was 19. I love that shit), a Sims game that I literally tore my room apart looking for MULTIPLE times, and a bag of Cheetos. I don't understand myself sometimes.

Aside from all the random stuff I found, remember me mentioning the dust? I literally had to stop cleaning because I could not breathe. I was sneezing the rest of the night, no matter what I did. And I got that awful allergy headache. So not only was my face all puffy and red and sexy, my head felt like it was going to explode. I went to bed at like 9:30 because I could not take the pain anymore. I figured once the allergy sneezes passed in my sleep, the headache would go away. Right?

WRONG.

I woke up with a WORSE headache, combined with a backache and cramps because life loves to fuck with me and decided it would be a good idea to have me wake up in pain and bleeding all over the place (sorry for that image). So I took a little nap. No dice. I took a longer nap. Nope. I drank a huge cup of coffee. Nothing. About a half hour ago, I ate some breakfast and popped four ibuprofen. They are not working yet.

On top of all of this, I STILL don't have a computer.

And my nose feels kind of itchy, like I am going to sneeze.

Murphy is a whorey cunt

So I'm finally done with finals, which means I can stop being a terrible friend and maintain regular contact with those who tolerate me, right? Except my computer is broken, which means I need to rely on my phone for everything. Do you realize how difficult it is to try to type emails of any decent length on a phone? A touchscreen phone at that? Or, even more frustrating, to juggle multiple chat platforms? It's not easy. By the end of the conversation/email, I feel like I have acquired arthritis and carpal tunnel simultaneously.

So now I have to get my computer repaired with money I don't have.

Additionally, we're apparently putting our oldest dog down on Saturday, a decision I disagree with, and Duds, the puppy, keeps attacking both her (the oldest dog) and Spike, my dog. Today it took me yanking Duds by the neck and lots of hard thwaps to the butt to get him off. I mean he was trying to kill Spike for some reason.

I do not understand. Life is supposed to calm down and get better during school breaks.

Dear you

Hey.

You said you had changed, you know. And I really thought you had. I really did. You fed me lies about how you wanted to be a good person for me, and how ashamed you were of what you had done before. But you really aren't, are you? You're still a little man-whore, and all you care about is sex. At least be honest with me, you know? Don't pretend like you care any other way about me other than getting some pussy. I can't believe I almost fell for it, and almost flipped my shit over you like everyone else did.

Well I figured you out. Fuck you for leading me along. Fuck you for feeding me lines that you were trying to change. And fuck you for almost stealing my heart. We will still be friends, but if you think anything else is going to happen, you're sadly mistaken. I can't wait to see the look on your face when I finally get to shoot you down. I hope you fall hard so no other girl gets hurt. Because I see you doing it to one of my friends, too. And I see her, being around less, because she is so busy with you. You will NOT do this to her. I've been feeling down for days because of YOU, and I won't let you do it to her. Fuck. You. Sir.

No love,
Me

PS: Sigh. Now I am just thinking it is me. It is probably just me. I know I suck, you know? I really do. I see people, they're withdrawing from me, the more they get to know me. I am sorry. I am sorry for everything.

THIS IS THE TALE OF CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW

I should be writing an essay right now. I only need to write four pages. FOUR. That is nothing. But instead I am cuddling with Duds and watching The Lonely Island videos because they are hilarious. They came out with a new video on the 7th and I watched it last night, and I have probably watched it twenty times or more so far, you know, instead of doing homework.

This new one features Michael Bolton, and I HATE Michael Bolton. I think his voice is super annoying and he just bothers me a lot. But I was laughing so fucking hard the entire time. I mean, he dresses up like Jack Sparrow. No one pulls off Jack Sparrow like Johnny Depp, and Michael Bolton is no exception to that, but it's really hilarious, especially when he kisses this plastic seagull and then "lets it fly." It's just hilarious.

Pride

I have never been the kind of person who cries at the national anthem or constantly spews patriotism out their ass...

But this picture makes me proud to be American. 

Shakespeare: The Aftermath

I had several mini panic attacks this morning.

The first one happened when I woke up and found out that my puppy had stolen and ripped up an entire roll of toilet paper, so there was toilet paper EVERYWHERE and I had NO TIME TO CLEAN IT UP because I had to do all the things in a short amount of time.

The second one happened when one of my group members, who said she normally gets to school at 8:15, but didn't show up for our 8:30 meeting until almost NINE.

The third happened when we had to set up the room. We had sooo much stuff to set up -- tables to move, garland/ivy to string, blue cellophane to put over lights, powerpoint presentations to get ready, music playlists to organize, costumes to put on, etc.

The fourth happened when we seated our classmates.

But after all was said and done?

I had a FREAKING BLAST. Everyone did so well, really got into their characters, no one forgot their lines, the audience was laughing the entire time, and my teacher said she didn't want it to end. It was amazing, and so much fun, and I want to do it AGAIN.

Shakespeare

My performance is in less than two days.

I'm kind of freaking out. But I have no time to freak out, because I have a Linguistics paper due tomorrow and tons of worksheets that I haven't even started yet and UGH so much work and I have no tiiiime to do any of it and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I AM GOING TO FAIL ALL THE THINGS.

Oh, and the worst part?

I am going to be wearing three layers, long sleeved shirts and pants during my performance, and it's going to be 80 degrees. SIGH.

Boo Who?

So yesterday was pretty rough for me, and I went to bed crying and all upset about life and thinking about how I should just stop caring about people because it only brings me hurt. I care so much about people, just as a general rule, and when bad things happen to people I love, it makes me hurt so much. And the worst is, when I can't cheer people up or make them happy, I take it personally. My mom is an unhappy person, and I feel like I can't make her happy ever since she says she never has and never will be happy, and it makes me feel horrible. Same with my ex boyfriend who was depressed.

I was just about to make the vow to not care about people anymore (unlikely it would have worked anyway, but in my tear-filled and emotional state, I was going to vow to never care about anyone ever again, dammit!), when I looked across the room and caught a glimpse of this:

Several years ago, maybe when I was 16 or something, I was in the library by my house, and I was standing in line at the desk to ask a question of one of the librarians. This woman, she looked to be down on her luck at the very least, possibly homeless as she was carrying a huge backpack, she needed to print something but she was missing a dime. She looked pretty distressed and upset about it, and the librarians just wouldn't let her print the damn whatever it was, so I got out my wallet, dug around and gave her a dime. That woman's face changed from distraught to overjoyed in about half a second. After a lot of thank-yous and god-bless-yous, she walked away and I faced the desk again. A few seconds later, she comes back up to me, catches my attention again, reaches into the side pocket of her backpack (like one of those places you're supposed to put a water bottle in) and pulls out that little owl and hands it to me. I told her no, I couldn't take that, but she pressed it into my hand and said one thing: "Just promise me you'll look at it, like when you're sad, and always think of something happy." 

I will NEVER forget that woman, and how the one small kindness I showed her out of sheer care for humanity seemed to really have just made her whole damn day. And I still have the owl, obviously, after all these years. And every time I look at it, I think of her, and it makes me smile, and it reminds me that people ARE worth caring about. Because even though you can get hurt, simply caring enough to spare a dime, or even a smile, to someone can mean the world, and making someone happy makes my heart fill up with so much love and happiness. All the hurt in the world couldn't take that away. 

Small victories of the day #4 and #5

#4: I successfully (and accidentally) freaked out my mailman when I walked outside with my face partially painted blue. I had completely forgotten I had the stuff on my face. He looked at me like "WHAT THE FUCK" and sort of backed away, and I looked at him weirdly and walked back in the house. Then I saw my face in the mirror.

#5: I got a weird text from someone I haven't talked to in months that said, and I quote: "Hey send me your last name i knw u." So I sent that to my best friend and our conversation went thusly:

Eric: Don't be a pussy. This seems legit. (referencing this:

Me: IS THERE FREE CANDY INVOLVED?

Eric: Of course. Do it, faggot. (referencing this:  

Me: There's a van that just drove by that looks like a free candy van. Where's the 4chan party van when you need it? (referencing this: 

Eric: Behind you.

Me: OH SHI-

We are awesome and I love us.

 

Bloggin'

I just forced myself to stay awake to write a guest post for my friend's blog.

Now I am too tired to write something on my own. Ah, life.

Small victories of the day #3

I am now the... proud? I wouldn't say proud. But I am now the owner of a full Avatar costume. Yeah, the blue people. But that is not the victory. The victory is, I got a $50 Avatar costume for $15. Ooohhh yeeeaaahhh.

Small victories of the day #2

I forgot to do this earlier.

Also I'm so tired, I typed "#w" not "#2"

Anyway, I put on bright blue (like peacock feather blue) eyeliner and it looked super pretty and it made a shitty morning less shitty. I'm a simple girl.

I'm too tired for this shit.

I am SO TIRED but I can't go to sleep because my cat is being the Hulk and Hulksmashing my life (seriously, he just knocked over ALL THE THINGS on my dresser) and my friend's friend who he hasn't talked to in 12 years killed himself and somehow he thinks it is his fault because he is a NARCISSIST because seriously, you haven't talked to the guy in 12 years. You don't even remember his last name. I doubt you had ANYTHING to do with him killing himself. THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU.

Okay that was kind of mean but I AM A BITCH sometimes, especially when I'm tired. Like my dog just fell off the bed and I laughed at him instead of checking if he was okay. And then I called him a fatty. He's pretending like he can't jump on the bed so he's trying to climb up it. Don't be stupid, fatty. Jump. Stupid dog.

If the puppy wakes up tonight and barks for another hour and doesn't let me sleep, I might just jump off a building.

Sometimes when I'm tired, I'll come across this revelation that nobody cares about but I think it's the coolest thing. Like I just realized "this" and "shit" are kind of palindromes. Except they're those things that you rearrange and make new words. Anagrams? I think that's what they're called. And there's that game called Bananagrams that I dunno how it works but it comes in a bag shaped like a BANANA. I find that fascinating.

God, what the fuck? Am I broken?

OH speaking of God, so I was going to go to church tonight just for shits and giggles at the old mission down here (California's First Mission!) and I took a wrong turn and ended up at Qualcomm Stadium where the best team in the NFL, the San Diego Chargers, play. And then I went to the mall. I clearly have my priorities straight.

Ugh friend whose friend died is like "I just want to see you face to face" which means I need to get on a skype call with him. I am not awake enough for this. I will probably say something rude but I warned him.

This really had no point, huh?

Small victories of the day #1

My eyelashes look AMAZING today.

Because sometimes I need a reminder...

Stolen from http://lacigreen.tv/

How to improve self-esteem:

1. Stop reading fashion magazines/body building magazines/stupid shit that glorifies unrealistic bodies.These are a huge culprit for poor body image. By bombarding you with unrealistic images, it’s easier to sell you things to fix yourself. The continued viewing of these images conditions us into the ideal of the magazine instead of an ideal that is healthy for our various body shapes.

2. Spend time naked. Routinely and as MUCH as you can! It helped me to get comfortable in my own skin. At first it felt awkward, but over the last year, I’ve come to love being naked with myself. Check out your body in the mirror. Don’t criticize, just explore. Identify all of the marks, spots, and bumps that are unique to you.

3. Exercise and eat well. Take care of your body so that it can take care of you. Learn to cook (YouTube has a TON of great tutorials and recipes!) so that you can feed it yummy, healthy foods. Save the salty, sugary, fatty foods for special occasions. These are hard on your body and will make you feel icky. Also strive to get at least a half hour of activity every day. If you’re like me, it helps to change up the activity so you don’t get bored!

4. When you notice yourself making judgment calls about your own body or other peoples’ bodies, step back and think about it. When I first started this, it was a near constant inner dialogue to work through my concepts of bodies and beauty. Consciously correct yourself before you move on. Remind yourself why it’s unproductive to judge, affirm your self love, and set a precedent to be more positive next time. This exercise works to build your self-awareness. The more self-aware you are, the easier it is to let go of the negative influences around you. I think this had the most effect for me.

5. Surround yourself with people who make you feel good about yourself. Get rid of friends that expect you to live up to a certain physical standard and/or judge you for your body – I’ve found these aren’t real friends. They are offering you a relationship contingent on your physical appearance. If you are striving to accept and love yourself, it naturally follows that you need to be in the presence of people who do the same. If you notice your friends being body negative, use it as an opportunity to start a conversation about their judgment. With continued conversation, your friends might hop on board toward a healthier view of themselves and others right along with you!

Catharsis

I just finished remembering everything my first ex-boyfriend did to me all in one big thought explosion. I haven't thought about that all at once since it happened. Usually when I explain what happened, I say "Oh yeah, he treated me like shit, called me a bitch, stuff like that." Not this time. I wrote it all down, what I could remember, in as best detail as I could get out. I am not good at articulating myself. But now it is out there.

And I am shaking. I am shaking and my stomach hurts and my head feels funny. Possibly from the two shots of bourbon I just slammed. I do not take shots normally. Also I have only eaten a handful of chocolate today. But I am sweating and sneezing and it is like my body is trying to get rid of everything inside me along with my story, like a mass catharsis of my mind, soul and body.

The worst part is that there is still more of my story I need to get out.

Dog

We have a really really old dog. She's like, 13 or 15 or something ridiculous like that. She is grumpy and hard of hearing. She recently has been packing on the pounds and now is all fat. Her breathing is hindered by her weight, but she eats and drinks constantly. She also has something wrong in her urinary system, because she goes to the bathroom at least every hour if she is not locked away in a crate or sleeping.

All the time for the past several months, my mom goes nuts at her. She yells at her for eating, drinking, snorting while breathing, scavenging for food, not walking fast enough, not responding when you call her name, peeing on the floor, etc. She says she hates the dog, and curses at her. She says she wants to take her collar off and let her loose. She says she wants to throw her out in the middle of the street so she can get run over. She constantly talks about how she can't take it anymore and she hates the dog so much and she can't wait until she dies.

Last night, she threw the dog outside (not actually literally, but if she had it wouldn't have surprised me) and said she never wanted her in the house again. She said she would die out there, because she constantly eats and drinks and there's no food or water outside, and that it would be cold, and that when she was finally dead, that I would have to deal with the body.

Today she calls me in tears because she's made an appointment to put the dog down tomorrow. She tells me to let her inside and let her eat and drink all she wants because she only has a few hours left to live, and she's sobbing the whole time.

I feel like I'm constantly miserable. Either she is screaming about how much she hates and wants to kill the dog, or she is crying about putting her down. She wants to know if I want to go with her to euthanize the dog tomorrow. I don't even know what to do. My head hurts and I feel sick and I am just so miserable here. It is absolutely awful to be around this.

Hope

It has been a few days.

Things seem back to normal. The other day she showed she actually does care, at least a little, when she thought I tripped and fell and smacked my head and died or something. I didn't do anything aside from open the door onto my dog's head so it made a loud noise, but it proved that she actually cared enough to get scared I wasn't okay.

The only thing is, I got off my sleeping schedule because I wasn't sleeping well after that, and now I need to try to get back into it. That is The Worst, getting off sleep schedules. I overslept this morning and could not shower. Then I was exhausted at 5 pm but I am kind of awake not and it is almost 11:30.

Today sucked slightly though. An old friend contacted me, except we are not really friends anymore. He had heard I had a bad week and he wanted to check up on me. There is a lot of back story with said ex-friend that I am too physically and mentally tired to explain now, but let's just say there is not exactly good blood between us. So he is asking me what happened, and I tell him I am poorer than dirt and not making enough money to even cover my car payment and my mom drama, and he offers me a loan. That's nice, kinda awkward because we aren't friends anymore and haven't talked in months, but nice. I thanked him and told him I would keep it in mind (except I would NEVER BORROW FROM HIM EVER). Then he follows up with this gem:

Yeah I currently have a job that pays around a bit over $100 an hour and then Cornell is giving me $4500 and then Fafsa is still giving all the money I would have needed for school and living and stuff...And I suck at having money (I bought a $400 tv last weekend and now i have a tv under my bed) so Im really looking for ways to not have access to my own money.

...

Really? I just told you I am working 5 hours a week at 8.50 an hour, and you tell me you are making a hundred bucks an hour? And that Cornell University is giving you $4500 dollars for free? And the FAFSA gave you tons of free financial aid you don't need while you know I only got loans? Really?


Needless to say, I am not too happy at this point, but it gets worse.

Long awkward silence later, he says he should leave to go study for finals (or rather, pretend to study for finals because "he doesn't like making people feel stupid so he has to keep up appearances that he actually works hard"...), and I tell him bye and congrats on making it into Cornell.

Then, this:

Its just a summer program...that only accepts 12 studnets from the nation...and is all paid for...and then they pay me too... :)

Aside from the fact that he is being a braggart,  which I can roll my eyes at and deal with, there goes the money issue. I have to pay for my fucking books, my fucking parking permit, my fucking EVERYTHING except tuition, yet he makes it into an Ivy League school for an exclusive summer program that is all paid for and he earns a stipend too. Really? Really? You are going to bring up money again?

Then when I told him he was lucky, he says that he is just "mexican, poor, first-generation immigrant, and autodidactic genius."

That is when I told him I needed to leave. You do not contact me under the pretense of being concerned and then gloat about your money and your exclusive summer program you were admitted to for free. What the fuck is your problem, for real.

Aside from that minor idiocy, it has been a pretty good day. I am tired and sore, but I am alive. And I have hope.

She won't even sit in the same room as me. Not even to eat dinner.

She has barely spoken to me since she got home, and ignores half of what I say anyway.

My dog is cowering in the corner, and no one is even talking, let alone yelling.

This house is toxic.

I want to leave but I have no where to go. I don't want to tell my best friend about this because I don't want his parents to try to get involved or something. I want to talk to her but I am too afraid she will ignore me or she will tell me she doesn't care again.

I think I might go for a drive. I can't afford the gas but I need to be somewhere else. Maybe I will leave a note if she even bothers to come out and check when she hears my car start. Maybe I will drive out to the beach and look at the water. I don't want her to get mad though, if I just leave. I am afraid of her, afraid of what she will do if I go, even for an hour. I just feel trapped, trapped in my own house, in my own head. And I just want out, whatever it takes.

Tattoos

I woke up this morning surrounded by used tissues with a bottle of wine and a bottle of Baileys in my bed. Clearly I had a rough night.

I skipped school today and slept. I woke up for real around 12:30 pm. It's 2 pm now, and my eyes still hurt from crying last night.

I spent the last couple hours looking at apartments. I figure, I'll try to talk to my mom today, and if she still insists that we can't live together, then I will move out. It is unfair for her to move into an apartment and leave the house to me. I don't belong alone in 3 bedroom house. That is just silly. I found about four that I liked well enough. They are pretty cheap, all under 900 a month for a one bedroom. It's tough to find them, though, because I have a dog and cat that will be coming with me. I have a guinea pig too, but I may have to sneak him in. He is small enough and his cage looks enough like a dog cage that I might just be able to get away with it.

I never thought I would ever come to a point like this. You hear of those kids who get kicked out of the house because their parents can't live with them anymore. They are usually drug addicts, gang members, badly behaved, etc. I was always a well-behaved child. I wasn't perfect, but I wasn't a hellion. I got pretty good grades and I never did drugs. I guess somewhere along the way, I messed up badly enough to lead my mom to think we can't live together anymore. If I do have to move, I will have to do some serious soul-searching to make myself be a more tolerable person.

I think when all this is over, and I have the money, the first tattoo I am getting is of a phoenix. If I can make it out of this alive, I think that will be fitting. A good reminder that I can be strong. Because I am not a strong person. I will not be surprised if this breaks me. But somehow, if I can hold it together, and rise up out of the ashes of my fucked-up life, then maybe, just maybe, I can conquer anything.

I cuddled a box of tissues tonight

My eyes hurt.
My face hurts.
My heart hurts.
My life hurts.

I just want this to all go away.

When I was little, I prayed to God for my mom to just be happy. It didn't work. It still hasn't.

Sometimes it makes me wonder. Especially now that I am rethinking everything I believe in. Does God exist? There are so many people in the world who think so, and sometimes it seems pragmatic at the very least for me to believe so. But then if I do, I have to wrestle with that. Why were my prayers never answered? Was he just not listening? Did he just not care? Does he just not love me like he loves everyone else? I didn't even pray for myself. I just want my mother to be happy for once in her life. Is that so much to ask?

Sometimes I think if I were gone, she would finally be happy.

Maybe that is the message God was sending me.

Questions

I had something that I started writing out, but I started thinking and there went THAT whole project.

I never used to be such a thinker. I was never one to sit around and "ponder the mysteries of the universe" or whatever the fuck. I still don't do that, but I am thinking a lot more lately. The problem with thinking is, I never come up with answers to my questions. I only ever come up with more questions.

For example, I remember once when I was dating one of my ex-boyfriends. He was a real philosophizer type, asked questions about everything. The only question I ever had during the course of our relationship was whether or not I should break up with him. I would sit and ponder, list the good parts and the bad parts of our relationship (the bad always outnumbered the good), and come to a decision. Except... trying to answer THAT question would bring up more questions, like "Do I really deserve better?" "Why did I start going out with him in the first place?" "Am I really making this mistake AGAIN?" etc.

Over the past few days (months, really, but a lot more in the past few days), I have come up with a lot of questions that are really bothering me.

Why am I so unmotivated this semester?
What happens if I can't pay my car payment?
What if my mom DOES kick me out? Where will I go?
Am I making the right decisions with my life?
etc.

But the one that is bothering me the most?

How do you tell someone you love them if they don't want to believe you?

Headache

Awful pain
In my brain
You left before
Please leave again

I could write kids' books.

Mondays

Have you ever woken up just feeling like you want to punch things for no particular reason? I am having one of those days.

Little things are just bugging the shit out of me. My bird is making this obnoxious noise at the moment and I am nearly shaking with rage and irritation at it. He is like plucking at the bars in the back corner of his cage and it is making the worst twanging kind of sound and it's grating on my nerves because he KEEPS DOING IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

I literally had to stop writing this and go get him out of his cage because I could not handle it anymore. And now he is sitting on my shoulder being all cute to spite me.

He is mocking me by being adorable.

You can tell he's my bird because he rolls his eyes, too.

Okay, now that that distraction is out of the way, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, little things that are aggravating me, like the noise my bird was making. For example, I went off in a complete cursing road-rage thing today (I don't really get road rage normally. I mean, I yell at people, like 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?' but I don't actually get mad, I just like yelling. Plus I only do that if other people are in the car or if I am on the phone with someone because I want them to comment on it, I guess) over someone who didn't put their turn signal on when they made a right turn. Yeah. It was that ridiculous. And my fucking computer doesn't stay plugged in anymore and it is a constant struggle to adjust it to just the right position that it stays plugged in for half a second upon which it needs to be readjusted and it just gets so fucking annoying. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH I AM GOING TO GO CRAZY TODAY. 

Mondays, man. Mondays.

Pink Floyd

I took a mental health day yesterday, which basically means I ditched work and drove around San Diego for an hour, then I parked at my school and slept for an hour and a half in my car. Exciting stuff.

Anyway, I ended up at Mission Trails Park, which I'd never been to before. It was a gorgeous day yesterday, and the route looked a lot like this:

Pretty relaxing to drive with big hills on either side and nothing but blue sky in front of you.

Which brings me to Pink Floyd.

Pink Floyd is my "every-mood music." I listen to them when I'm happy, sad, contemplative, sleepy, angry, whatever. I think you can find something to support any mental or emotional state in any one of their albums, and their music is absolutely beautiful and unusual, and their lyrics are haunting and meaningful.

Recently, my album of choice is their magnum opus: The Wall, a double album that was made into a rock opera film of the same name. Like most of their albums, The Wall  is a concept album, meaning that it follows a central theme or story. In this case, it follows the tale of Pink (full name Floyd Pinkerton - hilarious, eh?), a fictional rock star modeled after Roger Waters, the lead singer of the band, but also containing aspects, as many of their albums and songs do, of Syd Barrett, the band's original lead singer who, in essence, went insane. Pink had a rough childhood - after losing his father in World War II, he had to deal with abusive school teachers and an overprotective mother. After he grows up and becomes famous, he has to deal with the dissolution of his marriage, the pressures of fame, and an increasingly worsening mental illness (likely schizophrenia, which is one of the diseases Syd Barrett was rumoured to have); all of these problems cause Pink to withdraw from society, symbolized by the titular, metaphorical Wall. Each new conflict that Pink faces becomes yet another brick building the wall of isolation.

Happy happy, joy joy, right? It's not a cheerful album, that's for sure. But it is absolutely gorgeous.

Seeing as it's a story, it's kind of difficult for me to pick apart the album into individual songs, although my musical ADD often makes me skip around to my favorites, some of which are as follows:

(Oh, first, the album is divided into two parts, typically, both containing 13 songs and both about 40 minutes long (fun fact: Every Pink Floyd album (that I know of at least) is around 40 minutes long.) The second album is where it really goes to shit.)

Disc 1:

The first part contains probably the most widely-recognized song from the album, "Another Brick in the Wall Pt. II" Yes, there are Parts I and III which are nowhere near as popular but are incredibly vital to the story. Anyway, this song deals with the abusive teacher part of his life. Most everyone who's ever been near a classic rock radio station at some point in their life will recognize the lines "We don't need no education/We don't need no thought control." Pretty popular song, awesome guitar solo, creepy kids' choir. 

This song leads into "Mother," a very pretty and sad song. It is essentially a conversation in which Pink (sung by Waters) is asking his mother (sung by David Gilmour, the guitarist) if he should do all sorts of things like trust the government or date some chick. It really illustrates Mama's overprotectiveness, especially with the climax of the song coming right after Mama sings "Of course Mama's going to help build the wall." It's pretty sick shit if you think about it. His mother is SO overprotective that she agrees to help her child isolate himself from society instead of encouraging him to be a normal, healthy person.

After that, we come to "Goodbye Blue Sky" which has slightly irritated me since I discovered the true lyrics a few months ago. I thought the little kid at the beginning said "Look, mummy, there's no cloud up in the sky!" but the little brat says that there's an AIRPLANE in the sky. Stupid British accents. I like my version better. Anyway, this song is also composed of beautiful music and especially pretty vocals. And like most Pink Floyd songs with pretty music and pretty vocals, it's about some fucked up shit. This song chronicles memories of The Blitz, which was the period of sustained heavy bombing (76 fucking days) of Britain by Nazi Germany. Something like 45,000 people died. Pretty messed up.

Disc one ends with "Goodbye Cruel World," another pretty and fucked up song. The metaphorical wall has been completed, and Pink has finally isolated himself entirely from society. It is the shortest song on this disc, lasting slightly over a minute, and ending with the final line "Goodbye" that gets half cut-off by the music and sounds almost like a sob. YAY HAPPY.

Disc 2:

Disc two contains ALL THE BEST SONGS EVAR, starting with "Hey You," which is so so pretty (it was also sung by Jesse Eisenberg in the movie The Squid and the Whale, which is an excellent movie, by the way) and, naturally, pretty sad. Pink is regretting cutting off contact with the outside world, and tries to get someone, anyone, to notice him and talk to him, but with no avail. His mental illness also is highlighted here, with the creepy line, "And the worms ate into his brain," followed by a sick sound that kind of sounds like a dentist's drill but muted, which I guess is to symbolize the worms boring into his head. Fun stuff.

The next song probably contains one of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching instrumentals I have ever heard in my life, "Is There Anybody Out There." It starts, again, with Pink asking if there's anybody out there (outside the wall), but proceeds into the gorgeous instrumental containing a classical guitar solo which is later overlayed with violin, which, if I were to pick the most emotional instrument, the violin would be it. You can convey so much through the sounds of a violin. The instrumental part starts at 1:25.

It's so hard for me to cut out "Nobody Home" because it is so beautiful and sad, and also deals a lot with Syd Barrett, but what I really want to get to is considered one of the greatest rock songs of all time, and contains a guitar solo that is widely recognized as one of the top five, if not THE ALL-TIME BEST guitar solo EVER. Taking a moment to think about all the great guitar solos, such as those in "All Along the Watchtower" (Hendrix), "Stairway to Heaven" (Led Zeppelin), "Eruption" (Van Halen), "Sweet Child O' Mine" (Guns N Roses), etc, that's a pretty fucking big distinction to have, but I do believe it deserves it. It is fucking powerful and so emotional. I have heard plenty of renditions of the solo but I've only heard one that truly captures the emotion there. It's very difficult to play. The song is "Comfortably Numb," and the solo starts at 4:30. There is another part of the solo, which starts at 2:05, but the longer, more emotional one is the second. Seriously, any "best guitar solos" list that does not include this in at least the top ten is absolute rubbish.

I'm going to skip a couple goodies here to come to the climax of the album, "The Trial." This song is basically one big mental breakdown. In it, Pink is on trial for "showing feelings of an almost human nature." It contains testimonies from a prosecutor, his schoolteacher, his wife, and his mother, and then a judge who sentences him to have the wall torn down, interspersed with Pink singing in a manic voice about how he is crazy. Remember, all this is going on INSIDE HIS HEAD. It is a trip and a half. Don't listen to it when you are sleeping/falling asleep. I made that mistake once and it freaked me the fuck out. It is effing nuts and totally worth a listen. 

The album ends (or does it begin? The beautiful thing about Pink Floyd albums is that they end where they begin. The whole album is one big circle. The song ends with the words "Isn't this where-" and the first song of the album starts with "-we came in?" Personally I think that is the coolest thing ever.) with the final song, "Outside the Wall," which is very pretty but also creepy because he sounds really happy, and it's mostly spoken word, and it doesn't even resolve the story. No, really, there's no resolution. We don't find out what happens after the wall is torn down. "Outside the Wall" is more about what happens outside the wall while it is still built, rather than how Pink reacts once he is outside the wall. I like it better this way, though. Maybe Pink died. Maybe he went completely insane and got institutionalized (I lean towards the latter, especially given the cheerful tone of this song and the fact that it leads into the first song of the album, illustrating that there is no end to the story of Pink). We will never know, especially since Roger Waters refuses to give any explanation to the meaning of the song. 

I could write books about Pink Floyd. I think what I love so much about them is that I take a lot of their albums like literature and really enjoy analyzing them. I could discuss Pink Floyd songs/albums all day, same as I could discuss literature all day. I am a dork, for real.

Warning: My Life is Stupid

DISCLAIMER: I am exhausted and upset, so this may be rife with profanity, grammar errors, and nonsensical comments/ideas.

I am not a happy person right now. I'm stuck in that stage where I feel like pretending nothing bad exists and going about my day, but I also feel like crying, but I also ALSO really want to talk about it.

I don't know how much I'll be able to get down without crying and I am NOT going to cry because that will just piss me off even more and it will make things worse. Plus I get all puffy-eyed and ugly and I sweat and feel like puking and it is just gross.

A little background:
I live with my mom. She's a single mother and I am an only child so it's always been just the two of us. Which is kind of cool, because she can be really awesome, except a lot of the time it sucks because she is very strict and there is no other voice or opinion in rules or punishments or whatever, just hers. It is essentially a dictatorship that  I believe is supposed to be benevolent but sometimes isn't. And there's no place for me to go, you know? I can't complain to Dad or Sister or Brother, or even Grandma. And that just gets frustrating. Oh, also, as a general rule, my mom fusses at me (with varying degrees of rage) at least once a day.

So tonight started out with me having to take a survey from my school about harassment and unwanted pursuit. Always a good way to start the night, to be reminded of times when I have been harassed/victimized by strangers and ex-boyfriends. In the middle of my survey, I had to go eat dinner. Now, food is a difficult area for me. I love food (with a couple notable exceptions like blue cheese and asparagus). But food has been a point of contention, frustration and general unpleasantness for a lot of my life. I am a very slender person, and I always have been, aside from the obligatory "fat-stage" as a kid which I went through at about age two. I went through a period when I was younger where I didn't eat very much. I would just get full easily and not have much of an appetite. This caused many fights with my mother. For a couple years, she assumed that (read: accused and harassed me about) I was anorexic. If I would go to the bathroom during a meal, she would ask me when I came back if I had gone and thrown up what I had eaten, or she would come and check on me in the bathroom to make sure I wasn't purging (I also have weak enamel on my teeth, which gave her even more "evidence" that I had multiple eating disorders). These fights and accusations over food upset me so much that I simply would not want to eat, either because I was too upset to be hungry or because I just wanted to avoid the fight altogether. Recently, I haven't been sleeping very well, and when I don't sleep well, I don't eat well, usually. I get hungry at odd times, I get full easily, and sometimes food just doesn't appeal to me at all. Last night, dinner just was not enjoyable. I barely ate anything, and decided I would just pack it up and have the food for lunch today, instead. Well, the same thing happened tonight.

Long story short, my mother yelled at me to just throw dinner out (she does it occasionally when this happens, and I always refuse). Not being in the mood to do this tonight, I walked to the trashcan and dumped everything on the plate in. Which proceeded to piss her off even more. Cutting out much yelling, the next notable event that happened was my mom giving me $200 to buy myself food, which I tried to give back and then, upon her refusal to take it back, also threw into the trash. Dramatic, I know. Cut out more yelling, and we've come to the part where she tells me she'll pay up to $3000 a month (wtf?) for me to find an apartment, and that 3k includes food, rent, utilities, gas, etc (because she "doesn't want me to have to do ANYTHING at all"). Maybe it's just me, but that seems a little ridiculous. Maybe I'm prideful, but I don't like accepting people's money. I've been going through incredibly tough financial times, like tough to the point where I may have to drop out of school because I won't be able to pay my car payment, meaning that I would need to sell my car which would make it so I couldn't get to school. In other words, this is Serious Shit. And like every time Serious Shit happens, Worse Shit comes along with it. My computer has been temperamental, not wanting to stay plugged in. I'll probably need to get it repaired, which costs a whole lot of money. My car needs new rear brakes and new front tires, as well as 30,000 mile service, all of which will cost around $1000. And then I still have my monthly car payments and gas I need to pay for, as well as car registration fees and oil changes and all that crap. I've had friends offer me money, offer to pay for my computer repairs or buy me a new computer or lend me money or whatever, and I don't like that. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I don't want to be in debt to friends. Even when a friend has told me that I have no obligation to repay him, and therefore wouldn't be in debt to him, I still feel uncomfortable. What if something goes wrong in our relationship? Talk about a difficult situation. How can I stop talking to him if he's given me money, or bought me a new computer, or whatever? I've been in romantic relationships that have turned sour where I've felt trapped, unable to get out. I don't want to be in that situation EVER again in any way. I just... I don't want money from people. Not even my mother. I even get uncomfortable and sometimes angry over gifts that I think are too extravagant. So her paying for my rent and stuff just seems ridiculous to me, and I don't want it. I'm probably being stupid, like I always am, but I just don't want it.

I don't know. This post is stupid. I don't even feel like I got anything out but I can't write any more. I'm sorry.

Ugh.