I feel like I'm losing it.
Finals.
I have 2 projects due and I haven't even started one. I have a test due tonight. Haven't even read the material.
I hate this.
All I want to do is roll myself into a blanket burrito and eat Honey Buns by the truck load.
I can't though.
I need money.
Maybe I should become a cam girl. I hear the make money and never have to leave their room.
Or maybe I should become a waitress at a strip club? Nah, I don't have a strippers body. I can't dance.
I wish I was more creative. I wish I could express myself in other ways. Ways that don't put me into debt. Ways that don't make me bleed. Ways that don't make me cry.
I need something else. I just don't know what that 'something else' is.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
La Muerte
I think about death a lot.
It could be because I am depressed. It could be that I watch nothing but Investigation Discovery. Or it could be that life is only temporary, that someday we will all meet our maker and that this doesn't scare me as much as it would someone else because I don't fear what is inevitable.
Death isn't a bad thing. It's just the end of a life. You only have so much breath in you, your heart will only beat so many times until it stops.
My grandmother passed away three months ago. She was very sick and we knew it was only a matter of time, but I was still shocked when it actually happened. At her wake, she was in this gigantic pink double vaulted casket that had flowers all over it, wearing a bright pink suit. I touched her hand. It was cold. I don't know what I expected, she was dead. She was gone. I knew that. But knowing this information didn't spare me the shock of touching her cold lifeless hand. This woman who loved me fiercely was gone, all that was left was her shell.
At the funeral my father kisses her on the forehead before they closed her casket. Just as he kissed my grandfather at his funeral. I wondered if the shock of the cold skin registered with him as it did with me. He did it before, 14 years earlier, but I wonder if he thought the same things I thought. Felt the same feelings I felt.
I often think about my own death. The thought of not knowing what comes next scares me. I was raised to believe in an afterlife, but now that I'm older and wiser I don't think anything comes next. I just picture, blackness. A cold, empty darkness. I feel very empty and dark right now...so will not breathing make a difference? I wonder who will miss me when I'm gone, who will come to my funeral, who will visit my grave on my birthday or Christmas and bring fake flowers, balloons and stuffed animals to my headstone, even though its tacky, just to let ME know, wherever I am, that they wish I was with them instead.
I don't know why I wonder these things. I know my curiosity will never be satisfied, as when I do die, I will never see what will happen. That doesn't stop me from wondering, from thinking about how bad the people who have fucked me over will feel when they find out I'm dead. A vindictive thought, but one that happens.
Mortality will always be in the front of my mind. I will always wonder because I will never know the truth. Somehow I find this even more sad than actually dying.
It could be because I am depressed. It could be that I watch nothing but Investigation Discovery. Or it could be that life is only temporary, that someday we will all meet our maker and that this doesn't scare me as much as it would someone else because I don't fear what is inevitable.
Death isn't a bad thing. It's just the end of a life. You only have so much breath in you, your heart will only beat so many times until it stops.
My grandmother passed away three months ago. She was very sick and we knew it was only a matter of time, but I was still shocked when it actually happened. At her wake, she was in this gigantic pink double vaulted casket that had flowers all over it, wearing a bright pink suit. I touched her hand. It was cold. I don't know what I expected, she was dead. She was gone. I knew that. But knowing this information didn't spare me the shock of touching her cold lifeless hand. This woman who loved me fiercely was gone, all that was left was her shell.
At the funeral my father kisses her on the forehead before they closed her casket. Just as he kissed my grandfather at his funeral. I wondered if the shock of the cold skin registered with him as it did with me. He did it before, 14 years earlier, but I wonder if he thought the same things I thought. Felt the same feelings I felt.
I often think about my own death. The thought of not knowing what comes next scares me. I was raised to believe in an afterlife, but now that I'm older and wiser I don't think anything comes next. I just picture, blackness. A cold, empty darkness. I feel very empty and dark right now...so will not breathing make a difference? I wonder who will miss me when I'm gone, who will come to my funeral, who will visit my grave on my birthday or Christmas and bring fake flowers, balloons and stuffed animals to my headstone, even though its tacky, just to let ME know, wherever I am, that they wish I was with them instead.
I don't know why I wonder these things. I know my curiosity will never be satisfied, as when I do die, I will never see what will happen. That doesn't stop me from wondering, from thinking about how bad the people who have fucked me over will feel when they find out I'm dead. A vindictive thought, but one that happens.
Mortality will always be in the front of my mind. I will always wonder because I will never know the truth. Somehow I find this even more sad than actually dying.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Facebook. Why do I even bother to visit that damn website anymore?
It's become a habit. I open up Safari and click on Facebook, it's what I've been doing for, what feels like decades of social networking.
In the past week I have seen the death of a marriage, the exposure of a drug addict and the 2 closet come outs, not to mention the countless birth announcements (marriage/commitment announcements seem to be at an all time low on my newsfeed, ironically) and oversharing.
I can't take it anymore. I gotta stop logging in. It's making me feel even shittier about my life. And trust me, that's not an easy thing to do.
A girl I work with who is a year younger than me has basically aired all of her dirty laundry on Facebook, saying that she is divorcing her no good, lazy, broke husband. She got married when she was 19. She became a mother less than a year later. She wasn't physically/emotionally/financially ready for a relationship like that, or motherhood for that matter. Anyone could tell you this. I knew it was going to happen...but I didn't think I would see it play out on Facebook, with all the intimate, messy details on my fucking newsfeed. I feel kind of sick saying these things, I try so hard not to pass judgment on others, but this is my secret blog so whatever!
A girl I used to hang out with in high school decides Facebook is the perfect forum to announce that she is a drug addict. Let me tell you, I totally saw this coming as well. She was the kind of chick who had a new boyfriend every week, and she loved each one as intensely and quickly as the last. Then she started dating this gross guy from my math class who dropped out after repeating the 9th grade 3 times. I saw him not so long after he dropped out, he look terrible, it was obvious he was on drugs. Then she started dating him and she started doing drugs. He moved into her house (she was 16 he was 18 and her mother didn't care apparently) she barely graduated high school and became a full time addict, doing God knows what to pay for it. Then she dumped Gross Drug Dude and hooked up with her usual parade of boyfriends, and now she's 90 days sober.
Lets be clear, I haven't spoken to the girl since 2008. I know all of this crap from Facebook.
Don't you think you might be sharing a bit too much if I can write your entire story like an HBO screenplay, simply going off of your Facebook posts?
Also, pretty much all of my good friends from high school have either had babies, announced pregnancies or came out of the closet. Seriously, we all went to the same health class, we learned about birth control, why the FUCK aren't they using it?
We are all around 22 years old. We shouldn't be bitching on Facebook about how shitty our babies daddies are, or celebrating our release from rehab, or bitching about our next court date.
We should be graduating and starting new productive lives.
Why is this happening to all the people around me? And why do they feel the need to share it ALL on Facebook?
It's just not a fun website to go to anymore, they can play Words With Friends all they want, I'm gonna be on Tumblr following blogs that belong to 14 year olds because they seem to have their shit together.
It's become a habit. I open up Safari and click on Facebook, it's what I've been doing for, what feels like decades of social networking.
In the past week I have seen the death of a marriage, the exposure of a drug addict and the 2 closet come outs, not to mention the countless birth announcements (marriage/commitment announcements seem to be at an all time low on my newsfeed, ironically) and oversharing.
I can't take it anymore. I gotta stop logging in. It's making me feel even shittier about my life. And trust me, that's not an easy thing to do.
A girl I work with who is a year younger than me has basically aired all of her dirty laundry on Facebook, saying that she is divorcing her no good, lazy, broke husband. She got married when she was 19. She became a mother less than a year later. She wasn't physically/emotionally/financially ready for a relationship like that, or motherhood for that matter. Anyone could tell you this. I knew it was going to happen...but I didn't think I would see it play out on Facebook, with all the intimate, messy details on my fucking newsfeed. I feel kind of sick saying these things, I try so hard not to pass judgment on others, but this is my secret blog so whatever!
A girl I used to hang out with in high school decides Facebook is the perfect forum to announce that she is a drug addict. Let me tell you, I totally saw this coming as well. She was the kind of chick who had a new boyfriend every week, and she loved each one as intensely and quickly as the last. Then she started dating this gross guy from my math class who dropped out after repeating the 9th grade 3 times. I saw him not so long after he dropped out, he look terrible, it was obvious he was on drugs. Then she started dating him and she started doing drugs. He moved into her house (she was 16 he was 18 and her mother didn't care apparently) she barely graduated high school and became a full time addict, doing God knows what to pay for it. Then she dumped Gross Drug Dude and hooked up with her usual parade of boyfriends, and now she's 90 days sober.
Lets be clear, I haven't spoken to the girl since 2008. I know all of this crap from Facebook.
Don't you think you might be sharing a bit too much if I can write your entire story like an HBO screenplay, simply going off of your Facebook posts?
Also, pretty much all of my good friends from high school have either had babies, announced pregnancies or came out of the closet. Seriously, we all went to the same health class, we learned about birth control, why the FUCK aren't they using it?
We are all around 22 years old. We shouldn't be bitching on Facebook about how shitty our babies daddies are, or celebrating our release from rehab, or bitching about our next court date.
We should be graduating and starting new productive lives.
Why is this happening to all the people around me? And why do they feel the need to share it ALL on Facebook?
It's just not a fun website to go to anymore, they can play Words With Friends all they want, I'm gonna be on Tumblr following blogs that belong to 14 year olds because they seem to have their shit together.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Movies
Roger Ebert, a noted film critic, passed away today. Hearing the news bought me back to when I was 10. The symptoms if my depression had just started to kick in and I was becoming more isolated and anti-social. To fill the time, I would watch movies. I wanted to watch GOOD movies though, after seeing so many terrible ones. So I would stay up until 1:30 am so I could watch At The Movies with Ebert & Roper.
Roger Ebert is the kind of person I want to be like when I grow up, he was passionate, opinionated, intelligent and had a wonderful way of verbally handing people's asses to them that I only hope I can do someday.
To honor his memory, I found a few quotes from BF of Eberts best pannings of films. They are funny, honest and illuminating. The best three
About 'Last Rites': "It is not only bad filmmaking, but it is offensive as well - offensive to my intelligence."
About 'A Lot Like Love': "To call A Lot like Love dead in the water is an insult to water."
About 'The Brown Bunny': "I had a colonoscopy once, and they let me watch it on TV. It was more entertaining than The Brown Bunny."
(He was right y'all, this was easily the worst thing I ever saw. Comparing it to the video of Budd Dwyer killing himself and the video of that guy with a severe syphilis outbreak that caused his junk to swell out to 50xs its size...I'd rather watch both shock videos on a loop with my eyes taped open.)
See you at the movies.
Roger Ebert is the kind of person I want to be like when I grow up, he was passionate, opinionated, intelligent and had a wonderful way of verbally handing people's asses to them that I only hope I can do someday.
To honor his memory, I found a few quotes from BF of Eberts best pannings of films. They are funny, honest and illuminating. The best three
About 'Last Rites': "It is not only bad filmmaking, but it is offensive as well - offensive to my intelligence."
About 'A Lot Like Love': "To call A Lot like Love dead in the water is an insult to water."
About 'The Brown Bunny': "I had a colonoscopy once, and they let me watch it on TV. It was more entertaining than The Brown Bunny."
(He was right y'all, this was easily the worst thing I ever saw. Comparing it to the video of Budd Dwyer killing himself and the video of that guy with a severe syphilis outbreak that caused his junk to swell out to 50xs its size...I'd rather watch both shock videos on a loop with my eyes taped open.)
See you at the movies.
Silver Lining
Today I woke up not feeling my greatest.
Last night I had an argument with my boyfriend. And in the way most arguments go...he decided to bring up everything that I had ever done that pissed him off.
A few months ago he managed to hack into my phone and fine pictures of me and my ex, taken over a year ago, which I had tucked away on a photo hiding app on my phone. I don't know why I never deleted the pictures, half of me forgot, the other half of me wanted to remember that part of my life, as much as it sucked. But he found them and even though we argue about this long ago...he wan't to argue about it again.
In the end we ended up having a somewhat civil conversation about our feelings.
My boyfriend has a few emotional issues, that he self-medicates with drugs and alcohol. He's gotten better about it in the past few months. We had this bad blow-up on New Years, so bad I can't even begin to write about it here. The short story is that he was drunk and not so nice to me, and he decided after that to better control his urges to drink.
He tends to get out of control around alcohol. I don't think he's a total alcoholic but I know the signs, I have a few family members with that problem, and his brother and father are both alcoholics. I just don't want the same for him.
He came over today. We made love. And he finally took me to see Silver Linings Playbook, which I had been wanting to see forever. He actually ended up really liking the movie, which I knew he would because it's one of the best films ever. Made me feel a little less self conscious about being crazy.
I own my craziness. I know at times I can get a little unhinged, manic, and downright nuts but I own it. Even though I'm a few cards short of the full deck, I still wouldn't have it any other way. I don't know what the hell I would do with myself if I was normal and well adjusted. No thanks, I'd rather be a little insane.
I once read somewhere that depressed people, are actually a lot more receptive. They see the world for what it is, not what they want it to be. Call me crazy (haha) but I'd rather be the way that I am.
There are silver linings in this world, there will always be one good part of a shitty situation.
I think he's my silver lining. When life is really horrible and I feel like giving up, he's the one good part of it to hold on to.
I never even thought I'd have a serious boyfriend, or even date for that matter. I didn't date until I was 19. I was never really interested in boys and it took a while for them to be interested in me. But then you meet somebody, that spark becomes ignited and you feel this incredible feeling. One you never thought existed before. You feel everything. You feel alive. It could be love, or it could be raging hormones but for someone who goes from feeling empty and lonely to sad and suicidal on a daily basis...this feeling is something amazing.
I never want to let it go.
Last night I had an argument with my boyfriend. And in the way most arguments go...he decided to bring up everything that I had ever done that pissed him off.
A few months ago he managed to hack into my phone and fine pictures of me and my ex, taken over a year ago, which I had tucked away on a photo hiding app on my phone. I don't know why I never deleted the pictures, half of me forgot, the other half of me wanted to remember that part of my life, as much as it sucked. But he found them and even though we argue about this long ago...he wan't to argue about it again.
In the end we ended up having a somewhat civil conversation about our feelings.
My boyfriend has a few emotional issues, that he self-medicates with drugs and alcohol. He's gotten better about it in the past few months. We had this bad blow-up on New Years, so bad I can't even begin to write about it here. The short story is that he was drunk and not so nice to me, and he decided after that to better control his urges to drink.
He tends to get out of control around alcohol. I don't think he's a total alcoholic but I know the signs, I have a few family members with that problem, and his brother and father are both alcoholics. I just don't want the same for him.
He came over today. We made love. And he finally took me to see Silver Linings Playbook, which I had been wanting to see forever. He actually ended up really liking the movie, which I knew he would because it's one of the best films ever. Made me feel a little less self conscious about being crazy.
I own my craziness. I know at times I can get a little unhinged, manic, and downright nuts but I own it. Even though I'm a few cards short of the full deck, I still wouldn't have it any other way. I don't know what the hell I would do with myself if I was normal and well adjusted. No thanks, I'd rather be a little insane.
I once read somewhere that depressed people, are actually a lot more receptive. They see the world for what it is, not what they want it to be. Call me crazy (haha) but I'd rather be the way that I am.
There are silver linings in this world, there will always be one good part of a shitty situation.
I think he's my silver lining. When life is really horrible and I feel like giving up, he's the one good part of it to hold on to.
I never even thought I'd have a serious boyfriend, or even date for that matter. I didn't date until I was 19. I was never really interested in boys and it took a while for them to be interested in me. But then you meet somebody, that spark becomes ignited and you feel this incredible feeling. One you never thought existed before. You feel everything. You feel alive. It could be love, or it could be raging hormones but for someone who goes from feeling empty and lonely to sad and suicidal on a daily basis...this feeling is something amazing.
I never want to let it go.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Relationshit
My boyfriend judges me.
Judges me because I had a past before him.
A past that he has invented in his head mostly, because he never bothered to ask me what really happened...but yet when I try to tell him, he refuses to listen.
Does that make any fucking sense to you?
So what you think has happened is better than the less exciting truth, the one you refuse to acknowledge?
I don't understand him.
Why do I even let myself get into these stupid arguments with him?
He thinks he's always right, I call him an asshole, we maybe have makeup sex, then things are ok for a little while until someone gets pissed off again.
Sick of this never-ending cycle of emotion that is easy to avoid if I could just decide to stop feeling things.
What the fuck am I going to do?
Judges me because I had a past before him.
A past that he has invented in his head mostly, because he never bothered to ask me what really happened...but yet when I try to tell him, he refuses to listen.
Does that make any fucking sense to you?
So what you think has happened is better than the less exciting truth, the one you refuse to acknowledge?
I don't understand him.
Why do I even let myself get into these stupid arguments with him?
He thinks he's always right, I call him an asshole, we maybe have makeup sex, then things are ok for a little while until someone gets pissed off again.
Sick of this never-ending cycle of emotion that is easy to avoid if I could just decide to stop feeling things.
What the fuck am I going to do?
Fate is a Bitch
Well, I took my driving skills test today.
I told no one. Not even the boyfriend. Only my mother knew.
Failing the test time and time again has a way of kicking the positivity out of you.
I failed again.
Let me get this out of the way: I'm not a bad driver. I can drive, I drive every fucking day of my life. Bu t the state I live in has very tricky rules and regulations that I am stuck with. The driving test is very difficult. Basically you have to preform two parking skills to start off with, under very strict regulations and under 3 minutes. That's my problem.
I can't park in under 3 minutes the way the want me to. I parallel parked twice. I did it textbook. But apparently I wasn't close enough to the curb, and you have to start the skill over again from scratch if the instructor says you didn't do it right the first time. If you fail to complete the skill in under 3 minutes you automatically fail.
I have automatically failed the test six times now. SIX FUCKING TIMES.
The first time I hit the cone, I was nervous..
The second time I ran out of time parking.
As I did for the third and forth.
The fifth time I committed a 'rolling stop' which basically means I didn't stop at the fucking stop sign for 5 seconds or longer. FIVE SECONDS. They fucking time you.
I've been so disappointed time and time again.
All I want to do is get in the car and drive.
I hate having to mold my schedule around everyone elses. I hate being late for work because my Dad is the one thats driving me. I hate that, if I want a fucking burger from the burger place down the street, I can't go get one. I hate having to wait until someone else is ready to go before I can go. I hate that I am constantly depending on everyone else, and that I can't depend on myself. I hate that I'm even writing this hate-filled rant because I can't pass a test that I have taken five times before.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I pass this test? Why is it that I, a person who is extra cautious and careful when getting behind the wheel, who stops at every stop sign (I'm taking a COMPLETE stop), honors every crosswalk, signals well in advance when I plan on turning anywhere can't fucking get a license to drive but the crazy cat lady down the street who almost ran my dog over can.
I am actually more likely to get hit by a car, by someone who HAS their license, than I am to actually get my license. I'm sure someone with a math brain can prove that statement statistically.
I. Am. FUCKED.
I told no one. Not even the boyfriend. Only my mother knew.
Failing the test time and time again has a way of kicking the positivity out of you.
I failed again.
Let me get this out of the way: I'm not a bad driver. I can drive, I drive every fucking day of my life. Bu t the state I live in has very tricky rules and regulations that I am stuck with. The driving test is very difficult. Basically you have to preform two parking skills to start off with, under very strict regulations and under 3 minutes. That's my problem.
I can't park in under 3 minutes the way the want me to. I parallel parked twice. I did it textbook. But apparently I wasn't close enough to the curb, and you have to start the skill over again from scratch if the instructor says you didn't do it right the first time. If you fail to complete the skill in under 3 minutes you automatically fail.
I have automatically failed the test six times now. SIX FUCKING TIMES.
The first time I hit the cone, I was nervous..
The second time I ran out of time parking.
As I did for the third and forth.
The fifth time I committed a 'rolling stop' which basically means I didn't stop at the fucking stop sign for 5 seconds or longer. FIVE SECONDS. They fucking time you.
I've been so disappointed time and time again.
All I want to do is get in the car and drive.
I hate having to mold my schedule around everyone elses. I hate being late for work because my Dad is the one thats driving me. I hate that, if I want a fucking burger from the burger place down the street, I can't go get one. I hate having to wait until someone else is ready to go before I can go. I hate that I am constantly depending on everyone else, and that I can't depend on myself. I hate that I'm even writing this hate-filled rant because I can't pass a test that I have taken five times before.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I pass this test? Why is it that I, a person who is extra cautious and careful when getting behind the wheel, who stops at every stop sign (I'm taking a COMPLETE stop), honors every crosswalk, signals well in advance when I plan on turning anywhere can't fucking get a license to drive but the crazy cat lady down the street who almost ran my dog over can.
I am actually more likely to get hit by a car, by someone who HAS their license, than I am to actually get my license. I'm sure someone with a math brain can prove that statement statistically.
I. Am. FUCKED.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
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