28 February 2011
So what?!
Prom was nearly two years ago now and you think I need to talk about it? I think there were several events that should have clued you into the fact that I didn't need you to have fun. I mean, come on! I went with one of my best girlfriends (win), and spent the whole night with a bunch of other girls who are totally awesome (like me) and weren't asked to prom because guys are lame (like you). Am I bitter? I know I sound it, but no. I'm not. I am more than happy to defend you to my parents and sisters, but I will not defend you to me. Mostly because I have wonderful memories of prom, and I can't deny that most of those moments were due to the fact that I was bitter and therefore determined to have ridiculous amounts of fun. Totally worked, by the way. After all, what is more fun than singing Pink's 'So What' at the guy who refused to ask you to the dance?
24 February 2011
Blur
Time is a blur. A day can seem like a year and a month can seem like a week. I woke up this morning and I realized it was almost March. I don't remember February. Wasn't Valentine's Day just this past Monday? I need time to take a break. I need life to slow down.
I spent the majority of the past week not studying for exams. I listened to music. I stared at a story sitting on my computer screen, my fingers resting on the keys--as though I expected them to type without any brain involvement. I read Jurassic Park. I sat on the Michael Crichton website for at least an hour, reading essays he had written, reading things he had said about his books, wishing I had all of the books with me rather than just the five I brought from home, wishing Pirate Latitudes weren't the last.
I compiled a list of "take that!" songs dedicated to a friend of mine who dumped me before we started dating nearly two years ago (worst Saint Patrick's Day ever).
I designed a study for a class, fully aware that it most likely it will never be used.
I talked to two of my friends from high school and managed to get angry with both of them.
I spent the majority of the past week running away from my current reality.
I don't know how to tell my parents that I'm different... irreparably. I don't know that I'm even afraid they won't accept me. That would be surprisingly uncharacteristic of them. I've been practicing on people, a few. It only turned out badly once, and I don't know that it was entirely to blame for that falling out.
I feel broken.
An angel ornament fell off of my little Christmas tree into my printer. I now have to have at least 15 pages in the printer, otherwise the pages get stuck on the angel that I cannot remove. First I tried to take it as a sign that I shouldn't be a psychology major. I get the feeling now that if it means anything, anything at all, it means this. But that's probably because I feel broken. Like something is jammed. Like something is preventing me from functioning properly. The strange thing:
I don't think I want to function properly.
I spent the majority of the past week not studying for exams. I listened to music. I stared at a story sitting on my computer screen, my fingers resting on the keys--as though I expected them to type without any brain involvement. I read Jurassic Park. I sat on the Michael Crichton website for at least an hour, reading essays he had written, reading things he had said about his books, wishing I had all of the books with me rather than just the five I brought from home, wishing Pirate Latitudes weren't the last.
I compiled a list of "take that!" songs dedicated to a friend of mine who dumped me before we started dating nearly two years ago (worst Saint Patrick's Day ever).
I designed a study for a class, fully aware that it most likely it will never be used.
I talked to two of my friends from high school and managed to get angry with both of them.
I spent the majority of the past week running away from my current reality.
I don't know how to tell my parents that I'm different... irreparably. I don't know that I'm even afraid they won't accept me. That would be surprisingly uncharacteristic of them. I've been practicing on people, a few. It only turned out badly once, and I don't know that it was entirely to blame for that falling out.
I feel broken.
An angel ornament fell off of my little Christmas tree into my printer. I now have to have at least 15 pages in the printer, otherwise the pages get stuck on the angel that I cannot remove. First I tried to take it as a sign that I shouldn't be a psychology major. I get the feeling now that if it means anything, anything at all, it means this. But that's probably because I feel broken. Like something is jammed. Like something is preventing me from functioning properly. The strange thing:
I don't think I want to function properly.
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