Tuesday, March 31, 2009


"I'm gonna go exercise."

I'm not actually exercising. I'm still sitting in front of the computer. I just didn't want to talk to anyone anymore. The vibes weren't right/I want to gaze at pictures. Plus, people never question exercising. I mean, who would lie about that?
I would, that's who.

Monday, March 30, 2009

My sister just e-mailed me this.

SICK! But kind of funny. I mean, he asked for it.


Ok, so my brunch didn't go to plan. First because I was (am) by myself. Secondly, because it's too early and I ate my food already. FRICK! WHY DO I ALWAYS DO THAT?!

Let me tell you how I did it.

So first, I walked into the kitchen. I surveyed the area. Look to the left, look to the right, hmmm...hmmmm...uh huuuh. Decision making time. We didn't have any good bread/ I didn't want to have to butter and toast it for my framed goodness. SO, I opted on the tiny tortillas in the fridge. I took those suckers out, along with ONE egg (I didn't need to be a fatass and have two) and hummus (I really like hummus).

Then I stood in front of the oven for awhile.

How do I turn this on? I thought to myself. There are the knobby things, I turned one of them and TA-DUH! flames emerged from the...flame makerers! I found myself a tiny pan, cracked the egg, and let it ooze to the silver pan that was waiting eagerly to cook the poor almost never really a baby chicken. It just sat there for awhile. The ooze did.

I turned the flame up.

Then it started to crackle and turn and burn (yeah, gray smoke arose), so I turned down the flame and scraped the earlier ooze but now yellow chunky substance around the pan for awhile. After prodding it with the spatula, I decided it was done. I chinked it onto a nearby plate. Then I grabbed the baby tortilla and "heated" that. I put that under the egg chunk. The tortilla, I did.

Suddenly I remembered that last night I ate at Macaroni Grill and I took out the left over Chicken Paremsan that I had! I chopped off a piece of that and threw it into the pan. For some reason I thought I was becoming chef status, and wanted to...sautee? it. I don't even know what Sauteeing is, to be quite honest. BUT, I wanted to do that. So I threw the chicken pieces in and they started to sizzle and pop (quite literally) I then put them onto the tortilla with the egg. Then I took a lump of hummus and literally flicked it onto the mass of food.

After, I took the salt and pepper and sprinkled that onto all of my creation because I see people do that a lot. So I did that. Then I rolled it together. The tortilla around my mass of food.

I took my first bite.

The tortilla was luke warm, the egg oozed out of its seemingly cooked edges, the chicken was freezing (the pan seriously did nothing, I should have microwaved it) and the hummus just kind of squeezed around everything, like a sealant. It was actually not that bad, but next time I think I'll let someone else cook for me. I'll probably have food poisoning tonight. or this afternoon. I am unsure as to how long it takes for my body organs to digest. I should figure that out. I will know soon.

So, that was my update. On my breakfast. I'm still hungry.
Maybe I'll eat a banana.

I can't wait for lunch.

my favorite part of the day

....is waking up!

....and Brunch!

Christina is saaaad because she was going to have a brunch buddy but then brunch buddy couldn't have brunch anymore. So then she searched for a new brunch buddy, but everyone she talked to already ate breakfast. Having had breakfast defies the point of having brunch because brunch is the combining of breakfast and lunch. Like, duuUUuuh. I thought everyone knew that.

So I eat brunch by myself.
Eggs in a frame.
Two eggs
One piece of toast (with a square cut out of it)
a dash of salt and sprinklin' of pepper

by myself.


I love hanging out with my big sister (usually)! Yesterday we watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno and it was HILARIOUS! Maybe it's because we were raised on crude humor or maybe it's because we were amazingly bored, but I loved it. I was a little weary to watch it because I remembered everyone talking crap on it- I have no idea what they were complaining about. The ending could have been a little bit more solid, but other than that they gave you what the title said they would. A love story and a porno. And in our case, lots and lots of tears (from laughing so hard).

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Movie Time!

Having had some time on my hands earlier I watched Persepolis. I enjoyed this movie more than I initially thought that I would. It's a dark political cartoon based off of the beginnings of the life of Marjane Satrapi, a woman who grew up during the Iranian Revolution. Marjane's grandmother influenced me a lot while watching it, she's so...wise? Also, It's french, so there are subtitles. It has a lot of content, so it involves thinking. You probably will not like it if you do not enjoy reading subtitles and if you do not like to think about what you are watching. Well, there is an English version, but umm, I didn't watch that one. I watched the original.

Then, because I had more time later in the evening, I watched Burn After Reading. Again. Funny, also somewhat political, but in a hidden way. I guess you may say I enjoy learning, and I enjoy movies where I get to learn about something and walk away feeling more knowledgeable.

Excellent, I know.
Other movies I have watched this year in the theatres and enjoyed were The Reader, Revolutionary Road, The Wrestler, Gran Torino and Benjamin Button (though I thought the beginning was a bit too long).

Friday, March 27, 2009

you're profound.

i like it?
...yeah, a little.
I like it a lot.


I like noise.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Two Thumbs Up.

I read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot on Sunday for my literature class. I enjoyed it very much. I am a big fan of Eliot and like writers. I found solace in the words of the poem, in a very twisted way, but it was there.

Haven't read the poem? Click the link above.
Don't know who Eliot is? Click the other link above.

Read it.
Enjoy it.
Then lets talk about it.

Monday, March 23, 2009

"Hey Virginia!"

Today I remembered how in my senior year of high school everyone that had my dear AP English teacher,Mr. Berrier, called me Virginia Woolf. I remember that I was severely offended because the picture he put up that he claimed looked JUST like me was of an older Virginia. I was seventeen. She wasn't.

Berrier: No. Do you see that profile?
Class: He's right, the facial profile matches.
Me: UGH! noooooo
Class: Ok Virginia.
Me: *pout*
Berrier: *smug smile*

Soon after remembering the Virginia nickname, I remembered my deeprooted hatred for my deal ol' teacher. As nice as I was, I did all I could to offend him in my writing. He claimed to endorse free speech and all that expression, yet he constantly used censorship. It pissed me off. In my notebook journal thing, the one we had to turn in every so often, I took a divider page and wrote all the cuss/profane/offensive words that I knew in different fonts and sizes. They were intact when I turned it in. When I got it back he had edited them. Some were crossed out, whited out, and altered. I was SO mad.

Me: how DARE he take away my creative expressions in my OWN notebook. It wasn't even a page that he had to look at. He went out of his way to impede upon my privacy. What a fucker.

I also remember that when I said the word fucker it had suddenly gone quiet in the room and he looked at me. That look. That look couldn't possibly have matched the hatred that darted back to him from my eyes. THAT and I was ultra bitter that he went through every page of my notebook to count my journals and he didn't even look at other peoples'. Ultra pissed. Me. I didn't say hi or goodbye to him for the rest of the year. It was on.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

I am either

overwhelmed or way carefree.


...the one in between the two would be nice.


I wrote this earlier in the week in about two minutes.

I moved past it though, so everything's cool. All cool. A brief vent sesh by myself.

trickling tears

The tears are building. Congregating. I can feel them getting ready to trickle down the sides of my face. I'm preparing myself; getting ready to pretend that I am not upset, that it doesn't bother me, that I am beyond it. I cannot stand it when people see me upset. Partly because I don't like showing others the power they may have on my emotions, but mostly because it doesn't do myself or anyone else any good. I bite the insides of my cheeks, look up, and take a deep breath. Calm down. Calm down. It's not bad, you have been through worse. The back of my throat starts to hurt as it tenses, as I catch the sob that wants to come out. I want to try to smile, but I can't.

I pull back.

The only way to feel better is to be vacant. Empty the emotion. Revert to numbness. The numbness you have mastered over the years.

I looked across the table. Wrong move. He's staring directly into your eyes, he's scoping you out and now you've been found.

"I'm fine, I promise"

No wonder people are scared of you. You wear your emotions too vividly on your face, in your body, in the tone of your voice. Your soul just leaks right on out. It leaves you incapable of fooling people. The trickery, deception and conniving abilities are swept out from under you.

I get into my car and sit there for awhile, fumbling with my ipod. Things can get better. Things WILL get better. You just have to wait. Wait for something better to come along. Pick yourself up out of the dumps. Find a happy place.

I'm scared that I am incapable of certain things.
I'm scared that my little sister is moving out of the house into a life of chaos and that she's going to fall apart.
I'm scared that I'm not strong enough to handle it.

*written March 21*

Thursday, March 19, 2009


...How does that make you different?

Well, did you grow up thinking about giant telephone poles falling onto you, imagining cars splattering into you and leaving your remains on walls, or crows swooping down and gouging out your eyeballs while walking to elementary school? No? Just me?

With as keen an interest as I have in people, you would think Id learn how to assimilate better. But I haven't. I am an individual stuck among the masses. I am a seemingly perky person that lives ina colorfully dark room and has bright flowery demonic thoughts. I look to the future in the most optimistically morbid way. And to tell you the complete truth, I don't know how I've lasted this long. And I don't know how people get the impression of me that they have. It just does not add up.

I'm messed up.

Don't talk down on yourself.

Oh, right. Let me live in denial.

No, not denial. Everyone has issues Christina.

Do you talk to yourself in your head all day?
Have you not allowed people to like you for the past twenty years?
Are your moods rapidly changing leaving you to pick up the pieces and find a happy place?
Can you say that you have wanted to die but refused to let your yourself because- never mind.

You say you have wanted to die?

I have. I usually make jokes about dying, but I'm probably almost always serious about it in the back of my head. I am abnormally tired of living. I won't ever try to kill myself though, please know that.

And why is that?

I'm indestructible.


Pretty much. That, and I know my life isn't half bad. I have no reason to complain, I rarely, if ever, do. It's better to look to the optimistic, sunny side of life. That's what I do. But I remain constantly aware of the less than sunny side as well. I think that's important. Balance. To know the truth, but to live as if you don't. It helps me to make good decisions.

So what has been bothering you, you came for a reason. I assume...

Well, yeah. I need guidance, but the kind that's hidden because I need to make my own decisions now. I'm trying to get off my emotional crutch- I've been handicapped for far too long now. I'm trying to kick the crutches out from under my side. It can be a bit hard. I find myself leaning constantly. But I'm ready to fall. I don't need crutches anymore.

Ok, spill.

Alright, well here's the deal. I met this guy and initially I decided to not give a shit about him. I thought he was trying to be too funny. I took it as him trying to cover his insecurities by making an ass of himself. I guess that's because that's how I sometimes cover-up my insecurities. Anyway, that was my first week of actually knowing him besides the previous introductory passing by phrases. Back to the point. I decided that everyone has their weak points and that I could look at it as being a quirk. I have plenty of quirks. Everyone is allowed them. So I moved past his constantly trying to be funny ways. I decided I wanted to like him. I decided I wanted to get past my first hurtle in life. I decided I wanted to try to be vulnerable. I mean, exposing yourself is good, creating room to get your feelings stomped on can only make you stronger, right? Right. Right. That's what I told myself anyway.

So I went on that first outing. I let down my guard, I had a fun time, but I couldn't decide if he was trying to play me or not. That night ended with me at his front door, him asking me if I wanted to go inside. I said no. In my head I was thinking YES, but I actually said no. It was probably an invitation for a get to know each other hook-up, and I wanted to see him again and if I went in that would ruin all chances of that. It would ruin my chances because I have never hooked up with anyone and... I don't know. Wasn't my thing. So I went home.

Annnnnnnyways, my problems later consisted of suffocating the other person into liking me and me being a newb. You can't make people like you, and you can't let the other person know how newbie you are until they see how cool you are or else they run for the door. Or so I've learned.

Well, did you let your walls down?

Yep. I ended up kissing him. I mean, it took me like, three weeks, but it was definitely one wall down. AND, I let him touch my actual body. That was another wall.

And Why were these walls up? Most people have moved past that by the time they're out of high school.

Oh, I'm perfectly aware of that. Thanks for throwing salt into my open and very vulnerable wounds. I think I never let people touch me because I felt like a lot of girls became tools for male satisfaction. They gave themselves up. THAT one bit of them became their identity. I didn't want to become a tool, and I didn't want to lobby off my identity as a person. I wanted to be able to enjoy whatever I decided to do while still being myself. AND I didn't want to be used. I didn't want to be on a "hit it then quit it" list. That has always been one of my fears. I guess you can say I don't have very high esteem when it comes to this part of my life. I have never really thought that I am good enough to keep, to be wanted. But I'm not property. Ugh, I'm just really confused when it comes down to this stuff. Distraught, now, really.


Yeah. I kept hitting it (not that way) and he kept letting me, still does, but I don't know why. I should stop hitting it. Maybe if I stopped that would give him the chance, if he wanted to, to hit me! But I can tell he's really confused. We share that in common. Confusion. Both extremely intelligent, but very lost in ourselves, not knowing where we belong in this wonderful monstrosity of a world.

I see.

have you seen that episode of Malcolm in the Middle where Malcolm is really stressed out and he starts to bite on his tongue instead of saying everything he wants to say because people get mad at what he says? But eventually he becomes even more stressed out by not saying what he wants to say and he opens his mouth to say what he wanted to say and blood comes gushing out? And he ends up in the hospital and being slightly psychotic?

I haven't seen that, but go on.

Oh. Well, I can relate to Malcolm. I guess that was my only point.

What are you thinking now?

I'm thinking that it's ok to be upset, but it's not ok to let it rule my life.

Good. A lot of people don't think about that. Lets change subjects. What else is going on in your life that you'd like to share?

My Geology teacher made some good digs at some stupid people in our class today. They didn't even know, it zoomed right over their heads. I had a good laugh at that. Umm, my friend Aaron is my walk to class buddy. I find it very enjoyable to speak with him in the morning. What else... I've been wearing flip flops now. I got over how my feet look- they aren't half bad. I feel more confident in my body. I feel pretty and I feel good about myself. I've finally fully achieved one of my goals I set in high school.

Congratulations! That's good.

Yeah, thanks. I'm kind of really proud of myself.

You should be.

I am.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Of Montreal.


While driving to school today I got stuck behind a religous freak's car so I started reading all of the stickers. hmmm...hmmm....uh-huh... mmhhmmm, hmmmm. right? Then I looked at the license plate frame.
It was too good. I started talking to myself instantly. "YOU DO?! I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS A GOD! I'M GLAD YOU CAN SEE IT TOO! I ALWAYS THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO SAW MY GOD IN ME, BUT I GUESS NOT." ...it went on for about ten minutes. Me. Rambling on about myself.

SIDE NOTE: I am the freak driving in her car that is constantly having conversations/singing/talking by/to herself. Sometimes I am responding to outlandish stickers, license plates, lame drivers or whatever. Other times I am cracking jokes and then laugh-crying by myself. I sing, dance, "act a fool"- whatever I feel like. I am interactive. I am by myself. I have a LOT of fun.
I enjoy being in my car.
In my Classic World Lit class there are these two dudes that I am semi-friends with. I don't know their names, but I know that I can ask them questions and mess with their heads. So I do.

Today I walk in and one of the dudes has his feet on my chair! I know, it's not my chair, but it's the chair that I ALWAYS sit in. The one that I have claimed for MY hinie. I stopped in front of it and looked at him and gave the "really?!" and he gave me the "what are you gonna do about it" and I gave him the "you're going to die" and then he gave me the "OMG! what did I just do, take your chair, PLEASE do not hurt me I'm too young to die" and then I sat down. After that I said thanks in the most nice way I have ever heard thanks said... and then I proceeded to ask them about the story that we were going to be quizzed on that I had not read... yet. I'll get around to it, don't worry!

THEN, after class I was walking in the hallway and I heard QUARTER yelled and then I instantly remembered what I forgot to remember last week. Last week I forgot that I saw my old 83 year old Geology professor go digging in the pay phone/vending machines to see if anyone forgot some of their precious change. They didn't. He looked funny. Every time I sit in his class I cannot help but to think of how good a cartoon character he would make.

I continued walking to my car. I was initially going to get my math book and then go to math but then I realized that I cancelled math this morning. So I sat in my car for an hour and doodled and wrote little entries in my notebook. Then I went to hang out with my friends. Then we all had fun and ate lunch and had more fun and then went to class. Which was not that fun. I think I'm the girl in the class that talks a lot and makes the rest of the class start talking because of what I talk about. I'm like, the popular weird kid. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Right now it's ok, but tomorrow I might feel embarrassed. Whatevs, I'll get over it.

Now I'm listening to Of Montreal's song For Our Elegant Caste. It's an odd song. It is also one of my favorites.

Oh, I started a Twitter.
I'm just going to write in it a billion times a day when I have nothing better to do.
Which is often.
not really.

Found my Broken Glasses!

I put on my glasses that are missing the lenses (which makes them frames) while driving to and from school today. People are too judgmental.
But it was fun. I felt like they were goggles, but not.
AND, they frame my face just right.
Not really.
But I can pretend.

I'm so vain. Taking pictures of myself in the car... WHO DOES THAT?!
....beside, well,uh, me... DuuUUUuuH!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Stupid Ticket Giver Man.

I had been jotting down my thoughts and funny stories while sitting on my bed when I looked up at the mirror to look at myself, but instead of seeing myself, I saw the street sweeping money making device zoom past my house. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I ran outside. The stupid ticket giving truck driver man pulled up to my car.

The dude shuffled out of his car door."Is it too late?!" I spurted out as soon as his feet touched the ground. I was running up to the curb. I looked at his face. FRICK MY LIFE! why is it always HIM now?! It was the assbutt that gives tickets like it's his life. Oh wait, it IS his life. He can't give anyone a break. Ever.

He looked at me and said "yep, the truck went by already." What that really means is "YOU FAIL, and I WON AGAIN LOSER GIRL! FIFTH TIME THIS YEAR! yep! When are you going to stop sucking at life?!" But I know better. He is thinking all of this because I don't give street sweeping ticket givers the time of day. If I had balls I would say something about balls (if you know what I mean) to him. But I don't. So instead, I'll just give him the shocker- BOTH WAYS MOTHER F! (if you know what I mean).

I walked away waving the symbol of defiance by my side and ARRRGGGING loud enough for everyone to hear. I then proceeded to open the front door of my home and slam it as hard as possible. I hate that man. Next time he comes around I'm going to put thumb tacks in the street so he gets a flat tire. The street sweeper mobile will go by and I will bolt in the street and sprinkle them everywhere. BAM! Flat tires. I will then sit outside on my wall and smile as he enters DOOM TOWN. I have no mercy for a-holes. Especially his type. I mean, doesn't he know that I NEVER get tickets, ever?! ...except for the street sweeping variety.

If only he knew the DOOM he was bringing upon himself by continuing to type into that ticket giving doohickey thing-a-ma-jiggy.
Karma can be a biotch.

....I'm not going to actually put thumb tacks in the street. But I will sit outside and smile at him the next time he drives by. It will freak him out. Make him paranoid. Give him nightmares. I bet my god will get him back. Make him suffer somehow.

I bet tomorrow he's going to wake up and have cereal. A seemingly good breakfast idea. That is, until he realizes that he used sour milk and has the squirts for the next couple of hours. Yes, yes. That will probably happen. Then something else will happen that is doubly as bad. Until the doom is worked off. I mean, he gave me a ticket. He deserves it.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

story of my life.

Posted on the PostSecret Blog today. Easy to relate to. Beyond Easy.

Growing Up.

I was a little bit...different.

Growing up my necessities were:
-Slip on shoes/ converse
-hair band
-Orange "cheetoh" jacket
-Cd player/Ipod

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I'm learning this.

I think that the hardest thing to give to someone is yourself.
I'm getting there.

I forgot how

....I was always treated like a little kid

....I had rapid mood swings that were often expressed through my myspace. I was young.

....we always talked about being approachable and making friends

....obsessed I was with the chocolate chip crunchy topped muffins sold at school

...I was Athlete of the Week. I just remembered I never got the shirt. FLIPPIN A'!


I cannot sleep.

....how many times must I listen to this cd tonight?
I need to doodle.
Also, I am strangely interested in jokes today.
I have a lot on my mind.

a bit


This doodle applies to hanging out.

I always feel like I need to ask other people to hang out, because they'll never ask me to hang out. I'd rather just do it then to wait for them to come around and build up their nerves. This also applies to conversations. I usually start them. I start just about everything except for intimate affairs. THAT I cannot seem to start. That may be changing, however.

And sure, I may be scared that they're going to shoot me down....
But at least I can say that I tried.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I'm tired.




Oh memories.

Huck. My only brother. He was born an only child on Thanksgiving when I was in 5th grade. He came home to us and had a rude awakening. We made his life a living hell and he LOVED it. We miss him. He died 12/24/08. :(

Being able to drive the golf cart while visiting some great uncle in Wyoming. I was in 5th grade. My sisters and I had that thing BROKE by the time we left. We felt a little bit bad. We got over it.
Also, see the shirt? It was a leaf shirt. Yeah, leaves, like from a tree. It was my favorite shirt.

Ninetales. Must I say more? It's one of the few things I have been able to keep track of since it came into my hands one fateful afternoon as a youngin'. I traded SO many cards for it. and it was even scratched. I didn't care. It was love at first sight.

Going to YMCA camp in 7th grade. I was the only one to decorate my bed. See the cool one? That's mine. Jealous? You should be. Everyone there was. See those shoes? The white ones? I decorated them. I was very fond of doing that. Buying shoes and decorating them. Ever since 4th grade.

(In the picture: my friends Kristina and Bria, my crush at the time Mark, and my older sister Juli.)
Joining Cross Country in 9th grade. By 12th grade I was the Girl team captain of the Cross Country team. My fastest time was 19:36 for 3 miles. I wanted to run in the 18's, but I got injured. My fastest one mile time was a 5:57. I was like a cheetah, but faster.

Having my house toilet papered. "I HAVE FRIENDS!"
....or were they enemies?

Getting my first job. I began Winter break of senior year in high school. I quit a year later. More along the lines of walked out, to be quite honest. One of the most courageous things I have ever done. While working there I gained three mexican lovers, harassed by old men, and realized how many fat people are in the world.

Graduating High School. Probably one of six girls that wore pants and the only one of those six that wasn't a Lesbo. I was SO happy to be done. Don't look back, ever, just move forward.

Being out of the confines of constant criticism. Being able to speak my mind. A wonderful tool. Realized the first semester of College. AMEN!

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Pesky Paper.

She stared at the keyboard. At the book. At the prompt. These three entities combined will create something? Something to be turned in tomorrow? It felt surreal.

There was no way.

Yet, there was.
She eventually figured it out.

You use the keyboard to type the thoughts that came from the book but were guided by the prompt. It made perfect sense. It may take about an hour, maybe two, for the end result to appear. It depended on how serious she wanted it to be.

Writing had become increasingly more easy for her.

This was a piece of cake.

She will SO own this paper.

She can feel it.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Quite Pleased.

no comment.
(the good variety)

Friday, March 6, 2009

Rico Suave.

I am pretty sure I understand where I am. But if I am completely wrong, at least make it worth my while. Make a good memory. A real good one. Please, for me?

Some of my favorite lyrics in this song:
So please don't judge a book by its cover
There's more to being a latin lover
You got to know how to deal with a woman
That won't let go
The price you pay for being a gigolo
So again don't let my lyrics mislead you
I don't love you but I need you
Would you rather have me lie
Take a piece of your pie and say bye
Or be honest and rub your thighs

There's not a woman that can handle
A man like me
That's why I juggle two or three
I ain't one to commit, you can omit that bit
You pop the question that's it

Number Two Pencil.

I held the pencil before me. I turned it to the left, I spun it to the right; moved it this way and that way, changed how the synthetic light bounced off of its shiny yellow wooden surface. It was so intruiging. This is what I could do for hours. This is what I did do for hours. This is what I DO do for hours.

Laying on the carpet, my legs were propped up on the bland beige walls. The blood rushed to my head. I was greeted with an odd mix of exhilaration and lightheadedness. I stared at my pencil for a bit longer until my gaze drifted, my thoughts continuing to pop about in a thousand different directions. One after the other.

I stopped them.
I pushed them aside.
I refocused.

I toppled over, my legs freefalling to the floor. I layed there for a while. L shaped. I was like a human ninety degree angle. This was fun. I liked this. Laughing to myself at my mathematical reference I pulled myself up and leaned my back back against the wall, recomposing myself. My legs indian styled. My mind moved away from the basic elementary math knowledge.

What am I doing with myself? Why do I insist on napping, and daydreaming and thinking about anything but what I (supposedly) should be thinking about? I looked at the pile of books on the opposite side of the room. I had attempted to read them earlier, but to no avail. They now lay there scattered, abandoned. I would rather watch youtube videos on people lighting their farts on fire then to read those.


It upset me. It upsets me. I like to learn, I do. But I like doing plenty of other things more than learning about metamorphic rocks and finding Z scores. I like to think of outlandish scenarios and write down my nonsensical ideas and doodle, drawing Christina flowers.

...maybe I should take a creative writing class next semester.


English didn't go so greatly in that first semester of college. Damned peer editing. It just frustrated me. My fellow classmates did not understand my style at all. They thought I was a crazy girl hopped up on some sort of drug. I wanted to slaughter them, swat them away like you would gnats and be done with them. I was so annoyed. Do you not know anything besides what you are told? I was constantly thinking that. I mean, come on people. You can look beyond the words that are presented to you on a page. Look beyond my inappropriate use of a comma or dash and find SOME sort of meaning. Nope. Squares. All of them.

This was making me mad. My fingers were feeling tense, agitated. I know! An idea popped into my head- jazz hands! Yes, do jazz hands. I started doing jazz hands. My fingers moved about in fits of joy, and I started laughing again. This is what I liked doing. Sitting on the carpet, a smile crept back onto my face, the previously somber state disappeared entirely.

I'll leave it til later.
I'll do my homework in an hour.
I'll forget about my imbecile English 100 classmates.

The jazz hands stopped.

I stood and walked over to the window in my room. I opened it and sat there, on the window sill, enjoying the crispy fresh air of the night. Everything was so calm. I felt calm. Homework seemed a little more inviting now. I felt re-inspired. I can do this.I swung my legs back inside, picked up my pencil and lay there on my back. My legs propped back up on the wall. The blood rushed to my head. My how the light bounces off of this so abstractly. I lay there gazing at the pencil....

I Love Life.

Thursday, March 5, 2009


"I'm pretty popular. Just ask my friend."

can't touch this.

A tribute to horrible but amusing photo booth pictures.
From now to back then, when I was REALLY ugly.

p.s.- like my nail polish color? I do.


....so irresistible.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Once Upon a Time.

Girl explaining what happened:
I was sitting on the fence, thinking, and I think I toppled into his yard by accident...
then somehow we ended up in his room. It was a blur, really.

Girl talking to man whose yard she toppled into. He speaks back softly, mostly makes gestures.
Do you mind if I stick around for awhile? I can leave, if you want.

you are against having company?

well, I'm a bit bossy and controlling and demanding (at times), but I can be the exact opposite. and fun. an immense amount of fun. I love adventures, of all sorts.

All you have to do is say that you like me being around, and I'll keep coming back. I can make time for things I enjoy, I assume you can as well?


...I like your bed. It's uhhh, nice.

My Favorite Fantasia Moments.

Monday, March 2, 2009

The Office.

Michael Scott: Sometimes I'll start a sentence, and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way. Like an improv conversation. An improversation.

This reminds me of someone.
hahaha, oh.

....It reminds me of me.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

an hours worth of sleep; terror sets in fast

"what are you doing?", I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. I tried to be calm, friendly even. That is what you are supposed to do. Be a friend, not a victim, or a threat. He just stared at me, his eyes absent of any emotion.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." Well that sounds comforting, I think to myself. I'm not going to hurt you. Yeah, real comforting words. I could feel the doubt pulse through my tall 'n slender body. All I wanted to do was sit in peace in the parking lot of school. But no, I can't even have THAT.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!" I yelled, even the hint of a scream was present. He started reaching his arm through the window that was kept ajar to get air for the dog, a German Shepherd.

"I have a dog, and He'll eat the CRAP out of you." I tried to say it as seriously and factual and, and and, scarily as possible. My dog could be pretty fucking scary when he wanted to. I looked over, funny, I say this as he begins licking my face and searching for the extra goodies in my right jeans pocket. fuck. I could feel my fists clenching shut, the inner rage really sets in. He isn't listening to me. I HATE it when people do not listen to me.

"Don't come into my car. I am telling you, DO NOT come into my car."

The man, a slightly obese Mexican probably about 28, looks like he could be the janitor with a plaid button up and Levi Jeans and hair that looks grown out by two months, curly, was not listening to me. His arm rummaged around inside of my car, and he grabbed the emergency break in the center of the car and hoisted himself into my vehicle, through the crack of the window.


"I'm not going to hurt you." He pulled out the long rod that (I guess) was hidden down along the side of his pants and jams it into the window/lock of the passenger door. Where I sat. I tried to stop him, but I have barely any upperbody stength/muscle, and was merely pushed aside- he was even leaning over me, violating my space, the space I work so hard throughout the day to keep. My mean German shepherd looked up from the passenger side floor and cocked his head to the side.

"I told you I'm not going to hurt you." He smiled. "I have googolheim syndrome, it's a fungal disease. I cannot work." I frantically tried to open the door. Jiggling it and clawing at it. It wouldn't budge. I looked back over at him, fearful. He smiled again. He started moving towards me, the smile on his face turning sour. I can see through his eyes, he-

I woke up. Looking left toward the bathroom I saw a clown, dead, dangling from the ceiling, it's painted head, blank of expression, in the place where my disco ball normally shines. Where my disco ball SHOULD be shining. I blinked. I rubbed my eyes. I tried to picture something less morbid. I couldn't. I opened my eyes more. Repeated the process. I woke the fuck up. I am AWAKE. It's not real I told myself. It's not real. WHY IS IT NOT GOING AWAY. IT ISN'T FUCKING REAL. I hurriedly kicked my covers aside and grabbed the chain of my bedside lamp and yanked it with all my might. The room filled with yellow tinted light, the clown faded away.

It better be a fucking dream. It was.

I don't have nightmares. I don't. I didn't, anyway. I haven't had nightmares since 2nd grade. Since I lived in Claremont. Since it was the same nightmare every night for months. Every god damn fucking night. I changed that. I didn't want them anymore. I didn't want IT anymore. I remember waking up every night, my poor little body sweating from all of the fear that paralyzed it constantly. They went away after I made a deal with God to be good, tears running down my face. That was when we went to church every week and had bible study every Tuesday. Things have obviously changed since then. I still tried to be good. I still TRY to be good. I AM good.

I hope that this isn't a new trend.

I hope.

I can't deal.

Live, Learn, Pass it on.

"I get to go to lots of overseas places, like Canada."
- Britney Spears, Pop Singer

I bought a new nail polish color today. Wild Life. It is a shiny purple. I dig it. I also bought some much needed Burt's Bees chapstick, and other girlish things. I was with a friend. We then went to her house. Girl talk. Mainly about boys.