Maybe It's Best You Leave Me Alone

Melancholy music. That's the type of mood I'm in. Melancholy music and 2:30 am don't mix well. This is where overdoses and random property damage are born.

 This Monday a friend of mine from high school passed away. After wallowing in misery for a week, completely focused on how horrible of a week it was for ME, I'm starting to realize my own self-centeredness (is that a word?). The problem is, the little five-year-old egoist is clinging to my heart and brain, unyielding in its control. I WANT to learn a lesson from this, but I can't pull myself from the mire that is self-pity.

 I need one of those slaps.

 You know the ones. They're in movies and shows, one semi-major character is having a freak out about something arbitrary- a test, money problems, a pregnancy scare (okay, I haven't seen that one, yet, but it made for a good progression) and the other character, usually one of the main, beloved ones hauls off and SLAPS THE CRAP OUT OF THE OTHER.

 And no one gets mad. The slapee holds their cheek, looks offended for a moment, and then realizes 'Hey, I NEEDED that!' and the other character comically over-shrugs and they calm down and get down to the business of figuring out how to move forward. I need that. I keep saying 'My life is falling apart. My life is falling APART. MY life is FALLING apart.' and all other variations of emphasis. I feel like I'm on a runaway train heading for a broken trestle (for those of you that don't know or didn't read Water For Elephants that's a bridge over a ravine of sorts).

 Thus, I am forced to make a list.
 I'm employed.
I have a car.
I have a home.
I have a phone.
I'm getting a degree in a matter of days.
I'm heading to law school in a matter of weeks.
I'm finally having a successful love life.
 I have the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for.
I have a family. And while I'm the Black Sheep, they still care.
 And best of all? I have a LOT of fun. A lot.

 For the first time in my life, I'm pretty much happy or content with every aspect of it. So why is it when I think of the future I can't breathe and I get tunnel vision? Am I that terrified of the unknown? I mean, I've always hated surprises and lacking control, and don't get me started on how much I despise change. As I focus in on each little thing, I have countless blessings in my life. I'm grateful for these, but I'm still confused as to why when I look to the big picture everything gets all fuzzy and impossible. Blerrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Okay, I feel better.

See, I would attempt the 'Pull yourself together!' slap, but I'm hesitant for many reasons.
 1) I don't the pain that goes with the slap, regardless of who gave it to me
2) The lack of surprise would greatly reduce the effectiveness of the slap, I daresay it would render it pointless
3) Crazy people hit themselves. I'm not crazy, I'm eccentric. There's a difference. I swear.

 I digress.

 I'm currently having a territory war with a gnat. I do believe this is where I cross over from eccentric to crazy. As we cross into 3 am, I'm debating just staying up all night, though I think that would prove to be disastrous.

Yeah...I think it's time to turn in. I just downloaded an entire Otis Redding anthology with some Monkees and Garth Brooks. I'm totes going for a country drive tomorrow. Warm, sunny, windows down, soda in hand with Otis Redding's raspy, magical voice floating out of my cute little jalopy's speakers. That sounds perfect.

 Cheers.

An Update of Sorts...

Well, as these things go, I am not graduating in December of this year as previously thought. I had a very wise professor explain to me that law schools do not begin until September; if I were to wait and not go to school within those few months I would be unable to defer my loans for that period of time.

Oh. Well then.

Somehow I doubt I could have afforded paying those back on minimum wage. Alas. It's ok, though. I'm taking it slowly and pacing my classes so I don't get too overwhelmed. Plus, as long as I'm a student I can work at the NPR station on campus, and I kinda like this gig.

Harumph. Yes, I said harumph. I feel like you don't have to be an octogenarian male to be able to pull it off. In other news, I'm in a cantankerous mood and it's boiling in this production room. I feel a little bit like a lab rat under heat lamps. It's a matter of time before they start rewarding me with cheese for pressing differently-colored buttons.

First Thought: ADD really helps with the whole 'blogging' thing. Keeps a nice, jumpy pace. Who likes flow? Not this girl!

Second Thought: Bronchitis sucks. I feel like it's not fair for a sickness to last two to three weeks (according to WebMD).

Third Thought: Standardized tests. Uber blah.(Dingdingding we have a topic for me to rant about!)

Next time :)

Not sure if this is any good....

I haven't written in forever, and I just started again a few months ago. I don't really share them with people. There's probably a reason for that.

This one is unfinished....


"Almost, But Not at All"

When you start looking
Pass me over
Your love would be wasted
And your wounds will remain unhealed

I'm the land mine
In your field of opportunities
Lying in wait
For your heart to fall into me

Others have been here
They've created this monster
Carved from the stones of insecurities
And breathed into life by fear

You may imagine
That you can change me
But no one can succeed
Though many have tried

I am the animal
Stalking my prey
Waiting for you to become weakened
So my kill will be that much easier

Understand my pleas
And see that it's what's best
I know what I'm capable of

I'm a Sucker For His Charm....

I've never, to this day, met anyone I can honestly say that about. I'm not sure if it's my own complete lack of allure or that in this century the possibility of meeting someone with any type of charm or charisma is almost null and void, but it would be so reminiscent of an older era to surround myself with that type of person. However, when one discusses charm, it's always in a 'HE has charm' type of sense. This is true in historical context as well. When you think of charming men in history you think of Cassonova, Romeo, Henry VIII (hey, he had to be charming to keep getting women even after he banished/killed the ones before them, charming or the women of the time were insanely stupid, which I highly doubt because they found ways to survive child birth in a world where eating rotten beef was a common place occurrence). But when one tries to think of women in a charming sense, you think of people such as Jezebel, Delilah, Ann Boleyn- women that beguiled and fooled men into falling into their traps. Women who were eventually punished for their indecencies and for fooling poor, unsuspecting men into doing their bidding and therefore tainting the pure of heart. Typical. Men are "charming" and women get labeled "Jezebels" "Flirts" or "Bimbos". To quote one of my favorite movies, "I'm really starting to understand this puritanical ostracism that Hawthorne was talking about...."

My friend Jennifer told me she found me 'charming'- I believe that's kind-speak for 'you're crazy, but entertaining'. And hey, that works. Labels don't concern me anymore. After spending years agonizing over what people would label me and trying to cultivate the right label for myself, I'm too tired to do so. I would look in the mirror on a daily basis and ask myself 'does this fit the label I've given myself?'.(Which, by the way, I feel as if as much as we as a society complain about the labels given to us by others, we spend a great deal of time putting Hi My Label Is ________ stickers on ourselves. Maybe next time we complain we should look inward instead of pointing our metaphorical accusations at the general populace). I know who I am. I don't need a glittery bow and a lip ring to show that I'm not like any other girl you've ever met. This took me quite some time to realize but once I did it was like a huge weight off of my shoulders. I've had this constant dichotomy inside me of who I really am and who I was portraying myself to be. (Not that I don't like glittery bows- who doesn't??? I just don't feel like I'll lose anyone in my life if I weren't to pin them in my hair).

This cursor on this page is quite friendly, encouraging even. As I'm attempting to write a paper it becomes more and more evil and insistent. It's like my mother waiting for me to get ready for church. I feel its theoretical eyes boring holes into my face, just daring me to attempt to type a paragraph that it will in turn force me to delete because of its sub-par use of information. It's like it knows that I'm ill-prepared for this debate and that I can barely focus on my tasks at hand given the litany of other things clouding my already foggy mind. I should probably confront it, maybe invite it to therapy to work on our struggling relationship. The cursor (whose gender is undecided at press time) will talk about how I don't push myself hard enough and that it's tired of waiting around for me, while I'll counter with that I need to do things at my own pace and it should respect my work and create a more work-friendly environment. It will in turn tell me it knows I'm cheating on it with the Facebook and blogger.com cursors, to which I'll say that I'm not cheating, I just enjoy spending time with them more than it).

(Which we all think is NOT cheating...right?? RIGHT?? Ok, maybe not all of us. Actually, only a few of us, and most of those are my ex boyfriends).


Well. Upon the therapist's suggestions, I need to go spend time with my cursor, it's feeling neglected.

You know you love me XD

Dating on a Budget- Maybe It's Something We Should Splurge On

Being the cliches that we are, my friend Kassy and I were discussing men and relationships one evening. We were discussing our egregiously terrible taste in men. At this current juncture we have collectively dated what could be considered the world's worst collection of bachelors. Our new motto is "There's always something"- meaning, that no matter how amazing a guy may seem, there's a catch. He could be cute, smart, funny...but he's unemployed. Or, you meet a tall, charming, motivated young man who sweeps you off your feet only to be thrown back down to earth when you find out about his inability to keeps his eyes and hands on only one girl. Or my favorite, Mr. Total Package- loves commitment, manly, tall, handsome, funny- EVERYthing on the wish list. And then he turns out to be a complete homophobe, or a misogynist, or he drinks too much, or he has anger issues.

It's not like we're LOOKING for these issues- but they just keep popping up. It's to the point where we're tempted to start taking bets when one of us meets someone new as to what the issue will be- mommy issues? Commitment problems? A crazy ex?

Not that we don't come with our own carts of baggage. Anyone that knows me and anything about how I was raised knows I come with my fair share of luggage, and my own exes come with some warning labels. I know that mine are in check and aren't keeping me from healthy relationships at this point. Therefore, I feel as if Kassy and I (and most women, for that matter) are entitled to men that don't come with a truckload of deal breakers.

I developed the concept of dollar store men. As women, let's say we're given a dollar a week with which to purchase a man from the ManStore. Thus far, I've been the type of girl that once my dollar comes in the mail, I run to the ManStore and buy someone on the clearance rack. He's the 'there's always something guy'. I run right past the luxury models with great smiles and a fantastic sense of humor, and the don't even look at the tall ones who love animals and would protect me if need be- no, I run right to the ones with mommy issues, lack motivation, no ability to save money, are too immature, don't believe in monogamy, or any other litany of deal breakers.

While I'm passing my time with these fine examples of the human race, I'm too preoccupied to find, meet, whatever one of those luxury models. I walk right past them because I'm too busy trying to make my clearance rack reject into something half way acceptable- someone I can introduce to my parents and not die of humiliation after ten minutes. Maybe a whole hour would pass....

So what Kassy and I can draw from these musings is that instead of walking right past the new top of the line men, we can learn to identify the clearance rack rejects and learn to leave them where they belong- on that cluttered and dusty rack where they've been put for a reason. Rather, we're going to start banking our dollar allowances and just wait. Someday, that front of the store cutie with the broad shoulders and ambition will walk up to US- we won't even have to shop around for him. It'll happen, I just have to start saving my money....these impulse buys are getting old quickly.

Rum rum rum rum, Trey? I Was Like, 'Yo Trey'....

I really shouldn't let my mind wander. Minds wandering causes dangerous things to happen. I'm pretty certain the French Revolution began because a bunch of men were bored in an inn, letting their minds wander.

Or rampant poverty, starvation and a desperation to blame it on an unprepared monarchy.

Whichevs.

This time next year I will be a college graduate and moving out to the town where whatever law school is dumb enough to accept me is. I still can't believe I'm here. I never thought I'd make it this far. When I was little, I used to tell people I would die young. (Dark, huh?). I have no idea why, I just always felt like I would. And while I realize I'm still young, and those of you that are even darker-minded than I am are saying "There's still time", I still feel like I've gotten farther than I ever expected I would.


My resilience still impresses me to this day. No matter how much I go through and how bad it is, I pick myself up and move on. I spent an entire childhood picking myself up only to be knocked down again, harder than the last time. I look back at that child, the one who had to hide in her room with books to forget the anger and chaos outside her door and my heart breaks. She deserved to have a chance at something normal. But it made her who she is today. So that's one positive out of it.


I'm ready for what's to come. I've close all my doors, and the windows are all open. All of the necessary bridges are burned. I'm excited to see what happens. 2011 will be an amazing year- I'll finally see Spain, I'll get into a law school, and above all- I'll finally GRADUATE!

I'm ready to move to a completely new place and start fresh. I want to write my own story, I'm tired of others writing it for me. When I leave for school, I'll leave my baggage in Missouri ;)

Goldfinger, Twist, and Split

As directed by my lovely friend Alexa, I am updating this blog in order to allow for easier stalking (as if my Facebook did not inundate the general populace with information of my every move) ;)

So.

This weekend was one of my dearest friend's birthday. (Was that worded correctly? Ah...oh well). Not just any birthday, mind you, no....his twenty-first birthday. Combine that with the fact that he has a twin sister who knows less about makeup than a three year old but more about World of Warcraft than most guys at ComiCon, it made for a really crazy weekend.

It all started Thursday when Sam and I took his sister (Liz) shopping for clothing. I'm of course flattered knowing that my friends hold me in the highest regard in all things fashion, hair, and makeup. (Homegirl may not be the prettiest or the best dressed, but I at least know how to get there). I believe it all stems from years of Disney movies, Barbies, older sisters, and thousands of glossy pages of magazines that I devoured as quickly as I could get my hands on them. I started looking through Seventeen and Vogue when I was about four, and around seven I discovered InStyle magazine along with Cosmo. (I would sneak them out of the trash my sisters tried to have -ME- sneak outside for them- we weren't allowed to read this type of material- the Devil's work and all). I loved opening the magazine and watching all of the subscription cards fall to the ground, the different perfume samples wafting upwards, smelling rich and decadent. The only other thing that gave this a run for its money was opening a library book...

I was bored by any article talking about 'sex' this and 'men' that (I had no idea what either was, really). All I knew was that I wanted a closet full of Chanel, Choo, Blahnik, Valentino, Versace...all of the best. The beautiful models with their long, shiny hair and feminine features taught me everything I needed to know in life. I wasn't exactly the coolest kid, I didn't have that many friends and my siblings didn't really talk to me. Much of the time I was left to my books and my imagination. The magazines took me to a mature and beautiful place; one where I was successful, pretty, and important. My dirty overalls, muddy hands, and scraped knees may have been what was on the outside, but inside I wanted to be a princess. Why couldn't I be both? Why couldn't I make mud pies and jump out of trees and ruin almost every pair of shoes I had ever been given, but have pretty dresses and wear eyeshadow too?? I was determined to play baseball and superheroes by day, and be like the models in those magazines by night.

I'm still trying to find that balance. I digress, I will spare you my rant about how if a woman were to act assertively and act any sort of power-hungry she is demonized and made into some whore or "wicked witch".

Alas, another day, another time.


Moving on, so we went to the mall. Sam's sister Liz has the body of the models in my magazines- she's tall, thin, and toned. She has a beautiful bone structure, perfect smile, and dark, understanding eyes. The only problem is- she doesn't know it. Not only did she already have problems with her appearance, she dated a guy that exacerbated the problem. I just want to shake women like that and be like "REALLY!?!?!?!?!". I'm the only one in my group of friends that has any right to hate their appearance.

Moving on.

So of course, we try a million different item in many different colors/cuts/fabrics/etc and she looks amazing in all of them. Though she was very patient and cooperative, I could tell shopping was NOT her favorite thing. So we quickly narrowed down choices and found two AMAZING dresses that looked FANTASTIC on her- she looked like she stepped forth from the pages of Vogue magazine from a 'winter in New York' type spread.

Shoot me now.

(Don't get me wrong- I love Liz. She's one of the funniest, nicest, and smartest people you will ever meet. But did God REALLY have to combine that with looks??!?? REALLY??? Oh, and that goes for Sam, too. Some people just come into this world in the good gene pools...the rest of us crawl forth from stagnant puddles....)

Anywho.

So the first night we go to one of the more stereotypical 'college bars' in this town. Think lots of Greek letters and peroxide blonde hair. However, a good time was had by most (save for some minor, drunken, belligerent drama amongst friends- but is that EVER avoidable???). I will give this bar this, no cover for girls (heck yes) and good drink specials (HECK YES). Though, I saw enough girls with blatant daddy issues (and working them out right there in the club for all to see)to last me a lifetime; and I'm still unsure as to whether the smell of hairspray and cheap cologne will ever leave my nose. Well, our own Ms. Liz get a PHONE NUMBER!!!! This guy was floored by her. Sam got very, very hammered (his birthday wasn't technically until midnight, but they gave him the 21+ band anyway). His heavily-lidded eyes and lopsided smile were endearing to say the least. So, we all had fun, went home, and recovered for the next days' activities.

So.

On Saturday I had to get Liz, our friend Katie, and myself ready this time. After making sure the other two were taken care of I started on myself (not before we had a hair train of me doing Liz's hair and someone blow drying mine). It ended up to where I was smoking a cigarette and straightening my hair at the same time in order to reduce stress. Go me. Someone poured me three shots in the kitchen to take on our way out the door (they were more like triple shots but yours truly tanked them regardless).

All was going smoothly!!

We start the night at a new club here called The Library. It was decorated with sumptuous leather couches and hundreds of books lining the wall- I finally felt at home. It reminded me of places in Chicago (a place I hope to make my hometown some day). We of course see Sam's ex's new boyfriend (the one he waited about a minute after he and Sam broke up to date) who proceeded to give Sam the Stinkeye (yes, it's capitalized) ALL NIGHT, and he was accompanied by none other than the most ridiculous girl I've ever met, whom I have the misfortune of having to work with. OF COURSE.

Go us.


All in all, the night ended on a normal note for most. Another day, another time for why my night went into the trash can before it even started. Regardless, I had a lot of fun. We are making winery plans for Christmas break, ooh and the Symphony.

Stay tuned for more mundane commentary from this girl :)