Thinking Thoughts and Things

I just realized it's been close to a year since I've written on here. The reason I decided to was that a coworker told me she read my blog when she couldn't sleep and wanted me to write more. So thanks, Susan. Life is completely different than it was the last time I documented it. I don't care very much anymore about anything I did back in September. I'm going to be living with completely new people soon, I'm in charge of stuff at my job, but I still have no handle on my bad habits or sleeping patterns. Life is life. I'm about two inches from giving up on relationships. Men, I mean boys, and too much stress. I'd rather spend my time dreaming about a dozen chinchillas or Foxy Shazam than go out searching for some dude. It's kind of freeing to finally feel that way. My parents don't know I will be living with two guys next year, and if you don't know my family, you don't understand how stressful the idea of telling them that is. I want to throw up just thinking about it. That's all for now. I need to pass out before I go back to Saver's tomorrow. Peace, some form of affection, and popsicles.

My life is full of Characters.

Tonight was a great night for people watching. A couple of good friends and I went to our usual drinking hole, after a few not-so-great spots, and were greeted with a crowd of wigs, bad outfits, and equally bad hair do's (and some helmets). Here are a few of my favorites: Crazy red wig, wearing coordinated shorts and plaid shirt. It took a while to figure out she was actually wearing a wig and not just having the worst hair day ever. Disco ass. The pants have no true description other than "dat ass". Plus, red suspenders. Giant wig that was passed around. Personally, I preferred it on the gentleman from the wedding party. Yes, there was a wedding party at the bar. Probably adorable girl with her skirt hiked all the way up under her boobies. Poor, poor girl. Floral shirt guy. Strutting a mini-afro and skinny, black pants with dress shoes. My personal fav. He also talked to wheel chair guy and Jessica Simpson all night. (Jessica Simpson was too classy for the bar's bathroom. She used the construction porta-potty outside) (Earlier in the night) Shorty shorts girl. "Honey, I can see your spanks. And by spanks, I mean vagina." When did high-waisted shorts that show your ass cheeks come back? Last I saw, Farrah was rocking them. There were many more, but I think that's a good summary of the night. Props to crazy guy who continually dissed the Walker fan by saying "Niggah can suck my balls". You made our night. <3 Yeah, I do that shit.

My Old Writings

Today, while going through notebooks and ripping out last semester's notes, I found some writings from Junior High. I impressed myself with some of them, so I decided to share.

I'm stuck between loving and hating him with such a passion that it consumes all of me.

...and un-explainable addiction to drugs I've never tried.

There's an entire page dedicated to ripping on the college students giving a presentation to my class, and my cousin and I kept track of who said the most "ums and uhs"

It's also interesting to see that what I was concerned with at that time, like having lotion in my locker and recording Gilmore Girls. Oh, back when life was that simple. I need to think that way more often these days.

There was a very cool catchphrase for my company, IDK, which is "Open Your Eyes", a play on the "I" being "Eye". I think I'll use that now.

There were several pages of dreams I had during the time I was dating my first real boyfriend, and they all make me laugh. In one, his father was hitting on my dad, and in another, I drove a car into a church. I love my dreams.

The best thing I found was this:
Sometimes, we forget why we love the ones we love. I don't know how it just slips our minds of hearts, but one day, we just don't believe in it anymore. Believe in the power that an unspoken bond or simple memories can hold. We grow cold and distant, ungrateful, unfeeling. Words no longer cut like knives but dig like splinters, and the harder you try to fix it, the further it pushes in, deeper and deeper until you just give up and wait for it to fester to the surface. We know the right words to say, but choose to push them aside. We harbor secret hates for our once closest loves, and for what reason? Solely forgetfulness. Unfailing forgetfulness. The bane of every human's existence is to forget who they love, to forget how to love. But deep down, that unspoken bond is never broken and those simple memories remain, and resurface, just like splinters. Love is never lost, just sometimes, we forget.

Those are some words that seem so wise from me at only 16. That was only 5 years ago, but it seems like an eternity. It just reminds me how I can never be thankful enough for my siblings teaching me life lessons before I ever had to experience them on my own. Without them, I'd be nothing.

27 Days

I think I may have finally reached my breaking point. When people share a living space, compromises have to be made, on both sides. Not just one.
I came home on Friday to more furniture randomly placed in our living area, after relocating the majority of my crafting supplies into my already crowded room. My dining room table, which is worth at least a hundred dollars, is covered in tools and computer parts, unusable to anyone but my second roomate. Half of one couch is covered in more tools and camera pieces, and a suitcase has been sitting in the living room for at least a month. Normally, these kinds of things wouldn't even phase me, but after being told my clutter is too much to live with, I feel, once again, that I don't fucking count. My one roomate does not even pay rent here (due to extraneous circumstances), yet he has as much free reign over space, if not more, than I do. I don't count my furniture as "my space", because honestly, who owns a couch and says no one can sit on it? Or tables that no one else can use? Not me, that's for damn sure.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm at a point where telling myself "one more month" isn't cutting it anymore. I want to blow a fuse. I want to stand up for my own damn space and rights as a person. I shouldn't be confined to a room the size of my parents' bathroom. I should have more than a sixth of the freezer space. I should have somewhere to do my work, instead of on a trunk behind a couch. I shouldn't be responsible for dropping of the rent check on time after working two jobs. Bills should not be split two ways between three people.
I cannot wait to be out of here. End of story.

The Summer, The Fall

June is half-way through, and I haven't written anything yet. Time to remedy that.
For the first time in a while, I don't really need to vent. Life is looking up. I spent some time in Seattle and Portland visiting my sister. Maybe that reminded me that there are better things out there.
My biggest fear right now, as it usually is, is being let down. After many failed attempts, I think I may have found someone I click with. Even though everything is great so far, part of me is scared of being cut out when things start going great. I'm trying to find the balance between putting myself out there and holding everything back in fear. I need to learn a balance, keep myself intriguing, mysterious. It's so hard when I fall so fast.

Anything and Everything: Thought Explosion

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Literally. All I do is sleep and take medication. Maybe I need to take up yoga and vegetarianism. Except for bacon. Never forsake the bacon.
Isn't there a song about looking for love in all the wrong places? Why haven't the Mac people invented a boombox that attaches to your head and blasts your theme song everywhere you go? (Those two thoughts do coincide)
Where did all my creative energy go? Into Facebook and other bullshit? I miss loving my long nights of solitude. Although, I never really loved them. I hated them more than anything.
The idea of having someone is much more comforting than the effort of keeping them happy. SO pessimistic, but honest.
Have I really resorted to online dating at the age of 21? What has happened to our society that this is acceptable? Why have my friends let me do this without question?
Sunburns remind me of why I hate summer, the south, and outdoors. And none of my shorts fit this year. Guess the freshman 15 skipped a couple of years.
I still wear this ring that symbolizes a promise I made at 16, and I only kept it for two years, but this ring has never left my hand for more than a day. What am I holding onto? The life I'm leaving behind but don't want to lose? My innocence, which was never meant to last? I like to believe that it's because of the only real love I felt from anyone in my life. My dad has always been the one person who has been there for me, no matter what I've lied to him about or avoided telling him. He knows, deep down, that I haven't always been honest and that I'm not the person he wanted me to be, but he doesn't care. I guess I just want to find one other person like that in the world.
I guess it's true what they say. Girls fall for their fathers.

Home is Wherever I'm with You

I want someone to love me, but not because they desire to love. I want to fill a hole in someone's heart, and not because the hole needs filling. Because I'm the piece that fits.
I see myself with someone who is like a worn sweater. Comfortable and just the right warmth, classically styled, and smells like Home. You can always go without that sweater, to a party or out on the town, but when you come home, it's the first thing you grab and the only thing that makes you feel truly comfortable outside of your own skin.
Maybe the key is to be comfortable with my own skin. You always find that perfect sweater when you don't really need it, right? But once you find it, you know, and you never let go. Your skin, you're stuck with it, and you have to come to terms with who you are. Changing yourself does no good. You always end up back with the same issues and fears you started with.
That's why I need that perfect fit. Someone to pick me up one day and, whether they know it or not, find that feeling of warmth and home that everyone truly wants.
Because, in the end, isn't all we ever want a true Home to come home too?