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I'm as sick as hell, my head feels like a gigantic inflated underwater blimp. It floats ponderously on the end of my neck, and I'm pretty convinced it's going to detach and drift away at any second.
The lymph nodes along the side of my boobs are swollen. At least, that what I hope that is.
I've eaten mostly cough drops all day.
I fell asleep at 5 am last night/this morning and was awoken rudely at 7:30 am by the Troll Who Lives in My Basement talking to our room mate Lisa in the kitchen downstairs. Her speaking volume is always SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS for some inconceivable reason. I woke up in a panic because I thought she was standing in my room, shouting at me. Rather, she was having a conversation with Lisa (who I couldn't hear at all, mind you) about how Lisa had eventually given up and cleaned the basement herself.
"Oooh, that's what you meant by clean! I guess you and I just have a different idea of what clean means, huh?"
Apparently in Troll, "clean" means "shit everywhere, goop on the shower walls, wipe some things off with toilet paper and pile your crap all around the parts of the basement which are not, actually, your room."
She had, over the last semester, constructed what I can only describe as a mountain of crap in both her room, the main area of the basement and the stairs. For some reason she thought a good place to store a gigantic exercise ball she never uses would be right at the base of the stairs. Along with a leather office chair on wheels, piles of clothing, boxes full of more clothing and things like shoes, house-numbers and flippers, and most bizarrely, a gigantic red wagon.
The lymph nodes along the side of my boobs are swollen. At least, that what I hope that is.
I've eaten mostly cough drops all day.
I fell asleep at 5 am last night/this morning and was awoken rudely at 7:30 am by the Troll Who Lives in My Basement talking to our room mate Lisa in the kitchen downstairs. Her speaking volume is always SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS for some inconceivable reason. I woke up in a panic because I thought she was standing in my room, shouting at me. Rather, she was having a conversation with Lisa (who I couldn't hear at all, mind you) about how Lisa had eventually given up and cleaned the basement herself.
"Oooh, that's what you meant by clean! I guess you and I just have a different idea of what clean means, huh?"
Apparently in Troll, "clean" means "shit everywhere, goop on the shower walls, wipe some things off with toilet paper and pile your crap all around the parts of the basement which are not, actually, your room."
She had, over the last semester, constructed what I can only describe as a mountain of crap in both her room, the main area of the basement and the stairs. For some reason she thought a good place to store a gigantic exercise ball she never uses would be right at the base of the stairs. Along with a leather office chair on wheels, piles of clothing, boxes full of more clothing and things like shoes, house-numbers and flippers, and most bizarrely, a gigantic red wagon.
I'm sitting here at 5:30 am taking my sweeeeeeeeeet ass time working on this paper due in 10 hours and giggling to myself about stupid crap. I have a lot of lines on my neck, from a lifetime of reading too much and looking down at my computer screen. I wonder if I can get rid of them. If my neck is liney now, how is it going to look in 10 years?
LIKE A TURKEY'S WATTLE FLAPPING IN THE BREEZE, THAT'S RIGHT.
Yeah. I'm procrastinating. WHAT OF IT.
Dontcha wish your girlfriend was a tur-ur-key.
I can't stop listening to "Apologize" because of Gossip Girl. Damn you supposed-to-be-mindless-crappy-tv-that-s
It's too late to apologiiiiiiize, it too laaaaaaaaaate.
I said it's too late to apologiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiize, it's too laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate.
Whoooooooooaaaaaaaa
I take another chance
Take a fall
Take a shot for you
I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it's nothing new
Yeaaah yeah
I loved you with a fiiiire -- red, now it's turning bluuue
And you saaaaay
"Sorry", like an angel heaven let me think was yooooou
But I'm afraid...
*sniffles*
I really need to work on my paper.
LIKE A TURKEY'S WATTLE FLAPPING IN THE BREEZE, THAT'S RIGHT.
Yeah. I'm procrastinating. WHAT OF IT.
Dontcha wish your girlfriend was a tur-ur-key.
I can't stop listening to "Apologize" because of Gossip Girl. Damn you supposed-to-be-mindless-crappy-tv-that-s
It's too late to apologiiiiiiize, it too laaaaaaaaaate.
I said it's too late to apologiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiize, it's too laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate.
Whoooooooooaaaaaaaa
I take another chance
Take a fall
Take a shot for you
I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it's nothing new
Yeaaah yeah
I loved you with a fiiiire -- red, now it's turning bluuue
And you saaaaay
"Sorry", like an angel heaven let me think was yooooou
But I'm afraid...
*sniffles*
I really need to work on my paper.
Oh. Ha.
Stress is driving me up the waaaaaall. However, my eyebrow piercing is fucking hot.
I want to strangle some sense into Shabana. Alliteration: the coolest thing I learned in junior high? No.
What kind of fantastic friend tells people behind your back that your boyfriend is "gross"?The drama-obsessed, mini-skank-who-knows-nothing-about-sex kind!
I have no use for people who think that the best way to start a loving relationship is by sleeping with a stranger. Without continuous protection. And the stranger is 27. And not looking for a relationship. And not going to turn DOWN no-string sex, with a 19 year old girl with huge tits, obviously. But not chasing it either. People only value what they have to work to obtain. If you give a guy sex, love, attention, food, worship and adoration because you saw him at the bar and thought he was hot?
It will all be worthless, because it was totally free. This isn't just my opinion, it's recognized psychological processes. The guy isn't an asshole, he just won't consider things being thrown at him by a stranger to be as valuable as things he pursues. It's just how your brain works.
But... okay. You make a bad decision. You regret, you learn, you grow. Oh wait, Angelina Jolie always says "never regret!" So you flaunt it, you're proud of having accomplished the hugely difficult task of getting a drunk guy to sleep with you. You tell your friends how sorry for them you are, how jealous they must be! He's sooooooo good looking!
(Well, as brown boys go...
Brown, 27 year old potheads...
With squinty eyes and-)
Huge! This big!
(What, five and a half inches?)
You go home with him after a night of dancing that he spent staring at other girls and ignoring you entirely. You climb into his bed and say "Why didn't you dance with me tonight?" and he tells you it's because he was trying to hard to resist you, you're irresistible, so sexy. He falls asleep. The next morning, while you're still mostly asleep, you do it for the second time. The second time EVER, mind. It's the sexiest thing ever! Raunchy! You wake up, don't shower, put on his clothes and go to teach Ismaili sunday school to kindergarten children.
Praise Allah, children!
I think what I'm trying to say is that the people who make me the angriest are the people who are smug in their hypocrisy. People who claim all the benefits of being religious and follow none of the tenets that religion demands should be roughly handled by ravenous dogs.
Also people who tell other people my boyfriend is "gross".
Why am I still trying to look out for this girl? Why did I pick up pamphlets at the women's center, with info on STIs and relationships? Why don't I just let her fuck up her own life? It's none of my goddamn business.
I want to strangle some sense into Shabana. Alliteration: the coolest thing I learned in junior high? No.
What kind of fantastic friend tells people behind your back that your boyfriend is "gross"?The drama-obsessed, mini-skank-who-knows-nothing-about-sex kind!
I have no use for people who think that the best way to start a loving relationship is by sleeping with a stranger. Without continuous protection. And the stranger is 27. And not looking for a relationship. And not going to turn DOWN no-string sex, with a 19 year old girl with huge tits, obviously. But not chasing it either. People only value what they have to work to obtain. If you give a guy sex, love, attention, food, worship and adoration because you saw him at the bar and thought he was hot?
It will all be worthless, because it was totally free. This isn't just my opinion, it's recognized psychological processes. The guy isn't an asshole, he just won't consider things being thrown at him by a stranger to be as valuable as things he pursues. It's just how your brain works.
But... okay. You make a bad decision. You regret, you learn, you grow. Oh wait, Angelina Jolie always says "never regret!" So you flaunt it, you're proud of having accomplished the hugely difficult task of getting a drunk guy to sleep with you. You tell your friends how sorry for them you are, how jealous they must be! He's sooooooo good looking!
(Well, as brown boys go...
Brown, 27 year old potheads...
With squinty eyes and-)
Huge! This big!
(What, five and a half inches?)
You go home with him after a night of dancing that he spent staring at other girls and ignoring you entirely. You climb into his bed and say "Why didn't you dance with me tonight?" and he tells you it's because he was trying to hard to resist you, you're irresistible, so sexy. He falls asleep. The next morning, while you're still mostly asleep, you do it for the second time. The second time EVER, mind. It's the sexiest thing ever! Raunchy! You wake up, don't shower, put on his clothes and go to teach Ismaili sunday school to kindergarten children.
Praise Allah, children!
I think what I'm trying to say is that the people who make me the angriest are the people who are smug in their hypocrisy. People who claim all the benefits of being religious and follow none of the tenets that religion demands should be roughly handled by ravenous dogs.
Also people who tell other people my boyfriend is "gross".
Why am I still trying to look out for this girl? Why did I pick up pamphlets at the women's center, with info on STIs and relationships? Why don't I just let her fuck up her own life? It's none of my goddamn business.
sore
Why today sucks:
1) My bike is busted.
- the brakes don't work so well
- the gears are grinding and don't change or work properly
2) I still need it to get to class (especially when it's freezing and pouring out)
3) My bike, being busted, didn't appreciate my decision to use it in the pouring rain and decided to dump me violently on the sidewalk
4) People in Lethbridge are assholes and will just step over a muddy, bleeding person on the sidewalk
5) My palms are too raw to write properly, my notes look like chicken scratchings and have blood on them to boot.
6) I spent all morning dripping wet, bleeding on my jeans, and with dirt ground into my palms that hadn't wanted to rinse off in the bathroom
7) My chem class is populated entirely with idiots.
8) Apparently I look 30 in this picture
Why today isn't so bad:
1) Andrew loves me
2) Scott and Jen waved to me and smiled
3) Had a nice warm quesadilla
4) When I got out to my bike to leave, a girl at the bike rack behind me said "Here, have this." and handed me some paper towel to dry my seat off with.
5) Mud doesn't really show on my black jacket or my sweater
6) It's really just scrapes and bruises, didn't break anything.
7) Still made it to class on time, albeit a little muddy and really wet.
8) On the way home I took the long way, because I was already as wet as it was possible to get and I love the feeling of icy cold rain hitting my skin, I rode around the neighbourhood with a silly smile on my face and by the time I got inside my legs felt good and sore.
1) My bike is busted.
- the brakes don't work so well
- the gears are grinding and don't change or work properly
2) I still need it to get to class (especially when it's freezing and pouring out)
3) My bike, being busted, didn't appreciate my decision to use it in the pouring rain and decided to dump me violently on the sidewalk
4) People in Lethbridge are assholes and will just step over a muddy, bleeding person on the sidewalk
5) My palms are too raw to write properly, my notes look like chicken scratchings and have blood on them to boot.
6) I spent all morning dripping wet, bleeding on my jeans, and with dirt ground into my palms that hadn't wanted to rinse off in the bathroom
7) My chem class is populated entirely with idiots.
8) Apparently I look 30 in this picture
Why today isn't so bad:
1) Andrew loves me
2) Scott and Jen waved to me and smiled
3) Had a nice warm quesadilla
4) When I got out to my bike to leave, a girl at the bike rack behind me said "Here, have this." and handed me some paper towel to dry my seat off with.
5) Mud doesn't really show on my black jacket or my sweater
6) It's really just scrapes and bruises, didn't break anything.
7) Still made it to class on time, albeit a little muddy and really wet.
8) On the way home I took the long way, because I was already as wet as it was possible to get and I love the feeling of icy cold rain hitting my skin, I rode around the neighbourhood with a silly smile on my face and by the time I got inside my legs felt good and sore.
I like this. It's relaxed, easy, casual and I just feel sorta happy. I think maybe I have, in fact, finally stopped being so completely psychotic. :D I feel like I'm normal or something.
Coming home this summer was like waking up, finally. When you're dreaming, time's passage is beyond notice. It's not until you open your eyes and realize it's 12:30 and fuck, you wanted to go for a pre-dawn bike ride and it's now not even pre-noon, that you realize how much time has passed.
Somehow I stumbled through nearly 19 years of my life, now, without making any meaningful connections with anyone. The people I hung out with in high school were self-involved assholes. Probably because I was too. I wasn't interested in anything about them, and whether or not they were really the boring jerks I figured they were, I could have tried a little harder. Although, I shouldn't have made friends with the kind of people who, after you've been missing school for a few weeks and finally came in and dropped a class, would chant sing-song "Beth's a failure at life!" to you, unaware that being a failure at everything, including failing at failing at life, was the reason you'd been missing. The people I hung out with in junior high took up drinking, smoking and fucking long before I even figured out makeup, much less the appeal of boys.The people I hung out with in elementary school took up heartbreak, drama and crying about seven years too early for me.
Emotionally, I've fallen so far behind that I doubt I will ever catch up. I was all too aware from a very young age that my emotions were not something I could deal with, so I kept them penned and caged. But I couldn't stop them from growing, all I could do was keep them separated from me until they grew too big for the cage. And now I have full-grown, diaper-wearing adult feelings rampaging around in me without the slightest ability to deal with them.
I think I'd feel better if I had someone to talk to. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there's no one around because that's what I need. Maybe I need this isolation. I kept myself isolated, and for years I did okay. Maybe not great, but certainly better than I did after I tried to reach out to people.
Every single time I've ever tried to reach out I've been punished for it. Maybe I need this alone time; I need to learn to depend on myself for emotional stability. As much as I want someone to come along and help me patch up the shattered bits of my heart, no one ever is. No one is interested in shattered people, except the kind of people who enjoy other peoples' pain.
All I know right now is that late night bicycle rides, when the roads are empty and the sky is a very dark navy blue, when some very confused birds are still chirping and the rare car passes in a soft whoosh of air, when the ground is wet from rain and it's cool, are complete life savers.
Somehow I stumbled through nearly 19 years of my life, now, without making any meaningful connections with anyone. The people I hung out with in high school were self-involved assholes. Probably because I was too. I wasn't interested in anything about them, and whether or not they were really the boring jerks I figured they were, I could have tried a little harder. Although, I shouldn't have made friends with the kind of people who, after you've been missing school for a few weeks and finally came in and dropped a class, would chant sing-song "Beth's a failure at life!" to you, unaware that being a failure at everything, including failing at failing at life, was the reason you'd been missing. The people I hung out with in junior high took up drinking, smoking and fucking long before I even figured out makeup, much less the appeal of boys.The people I hung out with in elementary school took up heartbreak, drama and crying about seven years too early for me.
Emotionally, I've fallen so far behind that I doubt I will ever catch up. I was all too aware from a very young age that my emotions were not something I could deal with, so I kept them penned and caged. But I couldn't stop them from growing, all I could do was keep them separated from me until they grew too big for the cage. And now I have full-grown, diaper-wearing adult feelings rampaging around in me without the slightest ability to deal with them.
I think I'd feel better if I had someone to talk to. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there's no one around because that's what I need. Maybe I need this isolation. I kept myself isolated, and for years I did okay. Maybe not great, but certainly better than I did after I tried to reach out to people.
Every single time I've ever tried to reach out I've been punished for it. Maybe I need this alone time; I need to learn to depend on myself for emotional stability. As much as I want someone to come along and help me patch up the shattered bits of my heart, no one ever is. No one is interested in shattered people, except the kind of people who enjoy other peoples' pain.
All I know right now is that late night bicycle rides, when the roads are empty and the sky is a very dark navy blue, when some very confused birds are still chirping and the rare car passes in a soft whoosh of air, when the ground is wet from rain and it's cool, are complete life savers.
HELLO INTERNET
It's 2:00 am, I have to work tomorrow, and I'm feeling kinda blue. Obviously the best thing to do was sit up and wander the many hidden corners of the internet, talking to myself.
Odd. I used to be able to just talk and talk and talk about whatever I was doing or thinking. But for the longest time now I've been so bored and disinterested in my own life I cannot imagine anyone else wanting to hear about it.
Seriously
What can I say?
Today I continued my trend of hermitness. Aside from work, I had no social interaction. I ate some soup. I worked out and defeated a spider who was hiding in my basement. I really really really hope Hannah sorts out the camping trip so I can see some people instead of spending my time talking to myself.
It's 2:00 am, I have to work tomorrow, and I'm feeling kinda blue. Obviously the best thing to do was sit up and wander the many hidden corners of the internet, talking to myself.
Odd. I used to be able to just talk and talk and talk about whatever I was doing or thinking. But for the longest time now I've been so bored and disinterested in my own life I cannot imagine anyone else wanting to hear about it.
Seriously
What can I say?
Today I continued my trend of hermitness. Aside from work, I had no social interaction. I ate some soup. I worked out and defeated a spider who was hiding in my basement. I really really really hope Hannah sorts out the camping trip so I can see some people instead of spending my time talking to myself.
