You Suck, Loser.

That would be the name of my childrens' book if I write one (even if it's about a little girl that dreams she visits a magical world where there are unicorns and candy trees and singing daisies and then she wakes up and finds that it was all a reality). I'll dedicate it to Jordan Singer.

I smell really good. Like REALLY good. I think I smell better when I wear mens' cologne and stuff. So I do. Thank you Old Spice and Hollister.

My cat is bugging the bejeezes out of me. I try to love her all day and she looks like she wants to kill me. Now I don't even want her near me and she's all up on me and in my face. Freakin' Goober (yah, that's really her name).

Why do people feel the need to creep upon me? Seriously. Not to be rude, but I'm out of their league. Or I'm not even in an appropriate age range for them. OR, ya know, I HAVE A BOYFRIEND! Eighty-eight year old guy in a nursing home. Thirty-something year old guy who comes into work. I don't even understand that one... This guy, Roger, comes in and "flirts" (or what he thinks is flirting) with me. Not okay. Not only is he weird, but he has no idea how old I am. I look 14. Seriously, dude: That's illegal. And there are the kids who ARE actually 14. Yeh, THAT's gonna happen...
Then there's the kid that I haven't talked to since 9th grade. P.S. Kid, my boyfriend is awesome. Thanks for asking.

Let's skip the holiday festivities this year. I got carolling out of my system for another year. I don't really want to do the presents thing. I don't want to do the huge feast thing. The only other thing that I want to do is go to my sister's church Christmas Pageant. Then it's time to start dying eggs.

So, if I haven't told you [excitedly], I have an audition on the 7th for Disney. It's for princess/fairy/character look-alikes. Superpsyched for that :)!!

What was the point of this post? Nothing. Just felt like telling you random things I've been thinking about lately.

I have so much to say and I'm hoping that your arms are open.

So, this post is going to be a mini-autobiography.

People tend not to know the real me; the little things that make me who I am. This will hopefully clear up any questions you may or may not have had for me in the span of time you have known me.

I was born in a blackout. What the heck does that have to do with who you are? you are probably thinking. Well, to tell the truth: nothing. But that's where I begin. And that's just one piece of trivia I thought you should know about me.
I love animals. Most kinds (not the ones that could tear me limb from limb usually). My first job was at a farm park. It was the best job I've ever had. Animals are more human than a whole heck of a lot of the population. I was raised around them and with them and by them. For a year or two in elementary school, I had no real friends. I had goats. I loved those goats more than most people I knew. Natasha was my shadow. I'm pretty sure she was schizophrenic but I loved her for her. She saved my life one day. I was walking around the large goat field barefoot (as is natural for me) and was stung by a bee. I climbed on to Natasha's back and steered her to the barn. She was always there for me. I love my dogs and my cat. I constantly try to hold conversations with them about intellectual type things. They always look like they understand exactly what I'm saying. I promise that I'm not crazy.
I have depression. It's not all that awful. I can have my days. Most days are pretty good, actually. I've tried two or three different antis but everything is too large a dose for my size or my body rejects it and I physically feel like I'm dying. I joke that when I tried to take the stuff, on the way to the toilet to throw up, I felt like skipping.
I think a lot. More than is actually healthy, I think. It's one of those depression things. I tend to start a thought and then dissect it for hours or even days on end. My mind doesn't shut down. Like ever.
I have attention deficit disorder. Yes, I know that kind of clashes with the whole obsessive thought thing. You think that hasn't crossed my mind? It can get kind of fun when I'm not actually stuck on one concrete thought. My brain races a mile a minute and I'm jumping from subject to subject in seconds.
I tend to change my hair whenever I feel like I need to change my life. In fact, I dyed it just tonight. It's been bright auburn, black, strawberry blond, dirty blond, my natural brunette and now it's "Sweet Cola." I guess it's how I cope with my times.
I have the awesomest sister in the world. She's there to get me through everything. Even though we're twenty-ish years apart, it only feels like a year or two. She dropped what she was doing and came over tonight to help me put highlights in (except they're invisible now...).
I love to sing. I sing all the time. At work to my boss (she doesn't appreciate it). At home to my dogs (they don't either). To my best friends (sometimes they do). Actually, singing is the only thing that can get my mind off of whatever it's stuck on. Music is my therapy.
Poetry is sort of my thing. I have notebooks full of stuff I've written. Most of it was in high school when I was a thousand times more confused with life than I am now. I haven't written a good thing since.
I'm not as sarcastic as everyone thinks. One day I simply answered the phone and my sister freaked out that I was being sarcastic. "I just said 'Hello...'" I promise that I'm not. I have an incredibly monotone voice 74% of the time that I talk. Sorry to any of you that have been mistaken by this.
I have a stupendous memory. I remember things that seem impossible to. Actually, it's not so much the memories. It's the details.
I have a lot of scars. I'm pretty clumsy. I fell off an Amish buggy when I was 5 or so and now I have a scar on my chin. In second grade, was skipping around recess with my friend Brittany and I tripped and fell on the tanbark and now I have one on my shoulder. I was lacing up my spikes for springs in 8th grade and someone bumped me and I dug the spikes into my knee. I fell off my porch (only a foot off the ground) and scraped my ankle. I was pushing prop palm trees around the stage during a rehearsal of South Pacific and one fell on me.
It looks like a 6 year old girl lives in my room. One wall is pink, another yellow, another orange, and the last one is white with those colored blocks... There are butterflies, fairy wings, dolls, flowers, stuffed animals, children's books, and tons of sparkly stuff. What can I say? I like happy things.
I need people to know how I feel about them. It's as simple as that. I don't straight up tell people I don't like them. I feel obligated to let people know when I like them. It's kind of annoying.
I can hold a grudge like no one I know. If you do me wrong, you might think that I've forgiven you but whatever you did is definitely in the back of my mind.
I'm an observer. I like to watch people for their actions and reactions. When going out with a group of friends to bowl or what have you, I would rather sit and watch and take it all in.
Sometimes I would rather imply things than admit them obviously. Maybe that goes hand in hand with my true sarcasm.
I love to talk. I love to talk so people who I know are listening in are entertained. I've had many conversations with friends, solely for the people around to listen. It sounds weird, I know, but I like to be that one conversation you overhear and laugh at and tell your friends about later.
I'm not a very sympathetic or empathetic person. I can't even explain that one for you. I'm just not.
I know when I'm beautiful. I'm not going to say, "Ooooh, my hair looks horrible" or "This makes me look (fat, lumpy, disproportionate, etc)" or "I'm so gross right now." No. I know I'm amazing.


I'm starting to run out of things to tell you.

Frustration at its best

Marissa's Help Desk is officially closed. Not forever. Just for a week or two.
The deal: A bunch of my friends are going through weird and/or tough times lately. They (I'm assuming they started some kind of club that I'm not aware of in order to decide to do this) have turned me into their own personal counselor. I have listened for hours about their problems. I have been a sponge, constantly absorbing everything they say, yet I have sealed all of that away, not telling another soul. I have given more advice than I have ever been asked for. I have worried for them and about them. Now, I'm just done with it.
The advice I've given has totally been thrown by the wayside. I say one thing, they do the complete opposite. I'm trying to be a good friend. Obviously, they don't think I'm capable of giving profitable advice, so why do they keep asking?
I have my own problems and anxieties. I know that they don't compare to their problems in any way, but that doesn't make them any less real. What do I do? I hold my thoughts in. I don't tell anyone because my peers are too absorbed in what to say to whom that they can't take a second to deal with what I want to tell them. Then, when I feel that I can talk to them, I'm too afraid that they will look at me a different way. That they'll see me as weak or stupid or immature or obnoxious or conceited. I can't tell them because I've tried that before and it only results in my secrets being spread.
I've already started turning people down. A friend told me that they were done, that they couldn't do their job, that their relationships were going to hell, they were just done. What was my answer? "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do for you. For anyone, for that matter." What was their reply? That my answer wasn't fair.

Yeh, well, tell me about.

Here in the dark, I stand before you

It's been forever since I've done anything with this thing...


So last night, I had a dream that I was at this YSA Conference funded concert. The group was, like, twenty people and was called something like Soul Voices Combined (maybe, maybe not). Anyways, after one of their numbers, they asked for volunteers. I was thinking Wow!! I'll get to meet members of my FAVORITE GROUP EVER!! I'll do it!! (I was like a teenybopper) So I frantically wave my hand in the air and since I was in the first row (what are the odds), the see me first and one of the members picks me. After a while, each of the members has one audience member, so forty people on stage. Then the cast members run off to the back of the stage and leave us volunteers there. Then the host (yes, actually, it does become a reality show...) comes out and says that they will pick people to sing a whole song by themselves. Of course, they picked me first again. Everything went black except for the one spotlight on me. Then I just started singing Here's Where I Stand (which I'm pretty sure is on my playlist on here). I think I nailed it. Which got me pretty psyched when I woke up.


The end.

I've got the marbles I could sell for money

So, this is going to be a totally random blogging. I have a couple minutes before I need to stop procrastinating and twelve weeks to rant about.

I've lost two very best friends in the same weekend. Well, I didn't lose them. I know exactly where they are. And it's probably for the better. The reasoning: sex, drugs, lying, Hershey Park, gossip, picnics, almost step-brothers, work, me no longer wanting a relationship with someone who is not George Raymond Wolf, going to the movies, bracelets. The usual.

Oh well. This gives me a reason to latch on to other people and make even awesomer best friends.


I made a realization weeks ago. One of the above BFFs was talking to me and I was being vain (but in a fake way, FYI). He said, "Well aren't you just God's gift...." and I said, "Everyone is God's gift to the world." At first I was joking, and then I decided I needed to prove it to myself just in case he decided to argue it (he didn't. He just rolled his eyes [he's not so big on God])
Everyone really is. Even the rapists and terrorists and child abusers and drug dealers and crack addicts and serial killers and bank robbers and cranky people who yell at you because there's no coffee made in your convenience store. Even the guy that tried to kidnap me when I was ten. They're here to make us stronger.


So, right now, I'm making up this list. Intriguing, right? Just wait till you hear what it is! It's a list of all the people in my phone. You know why? I doubt it. Let me tell you. I'm going to say what I think of each of them and put it on here. Of course, I won't be putting there name next to it. It will be completely random.... I'm not that courageous.


I need to be on stage again. I was supposed to audition for Willy Wonka Jr... and then they changed it to ages 7 through high school senior... I could pass for that, right? Maybe I'll find something where I don't have a bad history with the director or there's no age restriction or you don't have to be a "priveleged" person (i.e. you spend a couple hundred bucks to join an "academy" acting class but really you're just buying yourself a part because you really, really suck at acting AND singing). Lisa, my sister, told me to just do set with her. That is not me. I am on stage, in the spotlight. Or behind the person in the spotlight. Or to the side of the stage with a dinky spotlight on me because I'm singing back-up for the person who is really in the spotlight. Nevertheless, that's where I need to be.


So I finally found the Readers' Cafe. It's some small bookshop-slash-coffee place-slash-beatnik club (I think) in Hanover where on the first Monday of every month, they have open mic night for poets. I'm thinking about going. I've wanted to go since 10th or 11th grade but I've never been able to find it. So, who wants to go with me??


I think I'm done for now. I've forgotten everything important and uplifting that I wanted to share.


Yes.

Mr. Trebek

So, I need to add this picture.

Kayla is going to be a junior in high school. She is wise far beyond her years. She is amazing.

friends and lovers

So, I need some advice. Who wants to be awesome and attempt to give it?
Let me know if you're up for it, one way or another.

Hmmm.

It's been a horrible week. Like completely horrible, dreadful, gruesome, repulsive, abonimable, lousy, loathsome, unkind, heinous, odious, and any other thesaurus.com word you feel appropriate.
My boss has been a b-word. One of my co-workers had a freak-out and said I never do anything. I'm losing friends left and right from time, distance, and plain stupidity. I can't muster up the enthusiasm to write to George. My parents think I'm suicidal. I've been completely miserable.
I'm done with putting on this tough, Bring it on, I can take you face. I'm sick of it.
Last night around 10, I was laying in bed, texting Josh, totally restless. I needed to drive. I think best when I'm driving. That's why I hate taking people to institute. That's my time to sit and think.
I went out to my living room and announced, "I'll be back around 12. I'm going for a drive."
My dad asked me if I was sober. My mom asked me what was wrong. Then I started crying. Dad didn't want me to leave because he was afraid I was going to drive off a cliff or something. Mom kept asking what was wrong. I told them I was fine and I was just overwhelmed.

I went to my happy swings. It's a crappy swingset in Lake Meade at the top of the dam. It would be a whole heck of a lot better if they overlooked the dam but they just look at a house or a Verizon shed (depending on which way you're sitting, of course).

Josh showed up to play basketball with two of his friends. He told me I'm not the kind of person to let little things and stupid people bother me. He told me I'm not the kind of person to just sit and pout and not do something about it.
I know I'm not that kind of person. I try not to be her but I don't want to anymore. I can't do anything when there's nothing to do.

Tonight, I sat in my basement and watched Charlotte's Web and cried my eyes out.

The one person I counted on to care couldn't any less.

Thanks.

Hahaheeheehahaho

Things are going well. That's all I can really say at the moment.
I've of so many things to say in the last month or two, but by the time I get to sit down and put it on here, I've completely forgotten.

Hooray.

I love that voice!

I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today!

So, if you haven't heard, I got to talk to George today!
He called his mommy for Mother's Day and demanded that I come over and talk to him.
His mama called me and told me and then said, "I'm not too happy about this. You only get 10 minutes." TEN MINUTES!! He had more than an hour to talk! What are they going to talk about for a half hour (Emy and David were there too)?? I should at least have gotten 20 minutes! I mean, I'M going to be the one he spends the rest of eternity with voluntarily!!! Geez.

I was so nervous... I hadn't talked to him since the day before he left.
I got on the phone and it was just like he was calling me when he was home. It was so nice.

I only have 472 days left!
Big party in a couple days. It'll be a Only A Year and 100 Days Left Party!

=) =) =)

So, less than a half hour ago I had a mental and emotional breakdown. For hours, I've been on the verge of tears for no definite reason. Then, all of a sudden, I just started bawling. What finally triggered it was the stupidest of reasons: I have nothing to send to George.
Yesterday I got a Happy Birthday/Anniversary package from him. He sent me a sock monkey (I've always wanted one and now I have three), a little kid tshirt that says "Someone who loves me went to San Francisco and got me this," a picture of him (so vain), and a day planner that I sent him and told him to fill in like a journal.
At first, I was kind of pissed because I'm always the one to send him something first but this time I procrastinated and waited to the very last second to get it all together.
And now I feel like I'm not sending him enough, even though I know that anything will be more than enough for him.
I'm sending him some pictures I took in Florida, this Kodak picture book of all of our pictures together, and this book called "I Love You Because..." and there are all these little prompts that you fill out about your relationship.
I have this bear that I want to send along that's holding a heart that says "I miss you," but it doesn't fit in the Flat Rate envelope and I don't have enough stuff to fill up the F.R. box.
That's what made me cry.

That and the fact that I feel like everyone is growing away from me.
My best friend has a boyfriend and all these other best friends and I feel like I never get to see her for more than an hour a week. And I felt selfish because I was bugging her that I never get to see her when I got to see her twice this week. We used to be completely inseperable.
Then there are people who want to be around me but I just can't right now. I feel horrible because the more they try to hang out with me, the more I have to push them away.
And I know that things will never be the same.


And when I need certain people the most, they can't or won't be around. And no one else will suffice because I just don't want them to because they're not my original Shoulders.


You know, it's the first time in months that I've cried. I feel like a baby because I'm taking these silly little things and blowing them out of proportion. But then again, I don't because this has all been building up for weeks and weeks and it's about time that I just let the tears roll.

So, if you love me or even if you know me, check out my poetry page on deviantart. This is stuff that I've written over the years (mostly in high school). A lot of it has the same theme or idea but all of it is different.

It's
spacecdt07.deviantart.com





Oh, time for a quick story (more for me [so I don't forget it])!

So, I was at my Great Uncle Bud's viewing tonight and my parents were visiting with my dad's Uncle Norman's sister-in-law, who also happens to be my dad's exwife's sister (No, my dad was not married to Norman's wife. There are three sisters.). Dad saw this lady and was in the middle of saying, "Kathy who is that?" when the lady leaned in and said, "I'll see you later, Kathy. Call me later to tell me how Gaylin (her husband) is doing." Dad just looked at the lady and had this Well that was kind of rude to interrupt a conversation look on his face. The lady left and Dad finally got out, "Who is she?? She looks really familiar!" and Kathy said, "What? Are you kidding me? C'mon Hobe." and Dad said, "What do you mean, 'what?'" Should I know her?" and Kathy exclaimed "You were only married to her for ten years!!"
Dad totally didn't recognize Juanita! I had only seen her once, eleven years ago at my grandmother's funeral, so I was keeping an eye out for her just to jog my memory. I remember that she had a face lift, red hair, and dressed all fancyschmancy.
Well, when she walked in to the room, I saw her and asked my mom if that was her and Mom didn't think so because she was chunkier and shorter than the Juanita that she knew and told me to ask Dad, so I leaned over and said, "Hey. That lady over there hugging Raymond. Is that Juanita?" and he looked and said, "Oh, no. That's not her" and that was the end of that.

Poor Dad...

Even better is the fact that my uncle works at the funeral home as an escort and stuff and he even held the door open for her and didn't know it was her.


I can only hope that I get my mom's memory genes.

Faster, faster back to Lampson Avenue

Yesterday at work, a man came in and tried to order a hotdog from me, only to be told that he would have to order off of the screen at the kiosk. He said, "Oh, nevermind. I don't know how to work those things." I offered my help and together we walked over to one of the screens and I began to show him how to order. Before I could even get out "Here are all your options," he said, "Can you do this all for me? I don't know how to read or write."

I don't know what I would do if couldn't read or write. I would never be able to let my thoughts go. That's what I do. Whenever I get these deep thoughts or I want to tell someone something but am afraid to or even just thoughts that I can't let go of, I grab a notebook and a pen and just go from there. I have zillions of notebooks full of my thoughts and what I should tell people. Without writing, I would be a bigger headcase than I already am.


That's all I had to say, really.

The End.

Yes.

Your lamps will call me home

Oh. My. Gee.

On the way home from my dentist appointment, I had this super epiphany about something surely incredible and I couldn't wait to get home and put it here for the entire world to be enlightened.
Well, of course, I had to tend to various things before I could even touch the computer.
Now I have no earthly idea as to what I could have discovered.
I know that it was quite philosophical and could edify the nations. Heck, it could have been the true meaning of life or how to end hatred.

Oh well. You'll have this.


Do you think it's too late for me to be a boxer? Or an artist? Or a gymnast? I've always wanted to do that stuff, I just lack the motivation, ya know?

I think I'm going to apply to a make-up artist school. That's something I've wanted to do for years now.
But then again, I've wanted to own a restaurant called "The Soup Place." I've wanted to go to 'beauty school.' I've wanted to be a photographer. I've wanted to be a horse dentist. I've wanted to write novels. I've wanted to be a mother (and I still do).
But make-up? That's something I know I won't get tired of. It will be something new everyday. I love make-up. I want to do prosthetic make-up and special FX make-up.
Dos problemas: For a make-up kit alone (in some schools) it's about $5,000 and there are a limited number of schools.
Right now, I'm looking at Joe Blasco (in Orlando),Westmore Academy (in Los Angeles), MUD (in NYC), Complections (in Toronto), and Studio Makeup Academy (in Hollywood).
People I've talked to about this choice think that I'm going to have a problem with monstery thing because I'm not one for scary things. I don't think I will. If I'm the one creating it, I'll be perfectly fine.


I don't know.

Just saying.

Yes.

Oh my gee

Do you ever give advice to someone, completely not knowing that you need it more than they could ever appreciate? Yeh, me too.
I just (kind of) gave advice (by commenting her blog) to my friend (this is a shout out to you, if you ever read this).
She was saying how she's barely scared that her boyfriend is going to find a new girl when she goes off to school. Then, she said how she was much more afraid that she would meet a boy because she'll be in a new place with new boys.
Here's what I said:

you want long distance? try 3,078 miles (give or take, ya know).
and don't worry about the glorious prospect of new boys... I was completely single out in Idaho, surrounded by a basquillion guys who should have been perfect for me (and plenty who definitely were not) and I only had one guy on my mind the entire time, fully intending on coming back to good ol' pennsyltucky and being with that boy.

So, I see now in reading this again that I sound kind of cocky. But as I sat thinking about what I told her, I realized that I needed that most.


Another thing...
I'm listening to a CD that I asked Ivan (another shout out) for. There's a song on it that George wanted me to listen to forever ago, way before he left. Well, I finally got around to asking for it. The one song is about how this kid is dreading the end of summer because he has to leave or something (for his mission, presumably) and he has to leave his girl behind and doesn't want to say goodbye.
That got me to thinking... George and I dreaded the exact same thing because he left in August. We tried to savor each tiny, silly, dramatic, unusual, or average moment we had together. Then, BAM! it pops in my head: Duh, silly girl! Now, instead of dreading the end of summer, instead of it going so gosh darn fast, you should be so excited for it to get here! That means he'll be home in a year! And then NEXT summer!! My golly! He'll be home in no time!"

I'm such a wishful thinker. Do you think summer will go fast? Heck no. It's not like I'm going to be a high school student who has all summer to have fun and is then obligated to go back to school, forcing the summer to fly by. PSSSSSHH. I wish.

But it's not even spring yet. I don't know why I'm worrying about this now.
I guess I need something to worry about.

Attention: Miss Shaylynn Kilfoyle

I would like to make a public apology (yes, I know this sounds like some kind of celebrity press conference, and yes, I know it's completely immature for me to not apologize personally, and yes, I know that less than four people will ever read this).
The apology goes to Shaylynn Kilfoyle.
I'm sincerely sorry for the way I acted. I was being ridiculously juvenile. I was trying to ignore the fact that I could lose a friendship and that is exactly what I did. I felt like I was to blame (again).
You have to understand how I feel, though. I've ruined so many relationships. I've broken up so many couples and I have no idea how. I've had friends fight over and about and because of me. It makes me think that I'm doing something wrong. It makes me question whether I should have friends because I don't want to make anyone else upset.
People wonder why I'm not social, why I only associate exclusively with the few people in my little "clique," why I seem so unfriendly. Sure, I'm shy to a point. The real reason? I hate losing people. I'm afraid of feeling like the cause of contention among friends.

I had so much more to say but I lost it all.

I'm sorry.

It's gonna be a "no"

I was asked on a date.
I can't do it. I can't.
I have it in my head that I can only date (yes, I know that TECHNICALLY going on a date is different from dating) people who I can see myself marrying. That may seem completely irrational, but I don't care. I've always felt that I was the only one who thought that way because everytime I explain it, people look at me like, Are you crazy? A date is like a free meal! And it's just fun!
No, I'm not crazy. And no, it's not a free meal. If I wanted a free meal, I would go to a soup kitchen. It's not free because people go on dates in hopes of finding loooove. I guess it's fun, but I can have fun coloring or going bowling with friends.
I finally finally finally heard someone say what I thought!
It was on the Real World. Chet went on a date with some chick and when he came back, Ryan asked, "So do you like her?"
"Well, yeh. We're going to see each other again."
"Okay, well just from tonight, could you see her being in your future? Like as your wife?"
"Psh. No. Definitely not."
"WELL THEN WHY WOULD YOU DATE HER IF YOU COULD NEVER SEE YOURSELF WITH HER IN THE LONG TERM??"
Then, he continued to rant.

I guess it is kind of hypocritical of me to say all of that. I've dated plenty of guys I never would have wanted to marry. Ever. I didn't love them. It was just what I said above: crazy, free, and fun.

If the person who asked me on the date reads this, I'm sorry.

Sorry... Just kidding!!

Once again, I am led to believe that I am in the wrong.
I don't know what I did. I don't know what I do.
I bring out the worst in people. Apparently, I do that a lot.
I'm sorry that I bring out the sarcasm, negativity, and other not-so-nice things.
Wait. No, I'm not sorry.

Where are you?

Surprise!
I need to talk to someone who will be completely nonjudgemental. Like completely.
Not someone who will listen to me and then tell me what THEY would do or what they did do or tell me that they've never had to deal with that. Not someone who would be biased about choices I have or have not made. Not someone who is going to lecture me.
I don't want to deal with someone who is of authority over me.
Then again, I want someone to tell me that these things happen; that everything will be okay in the end.

I don't know. Is that person out there?

Too much life running through my veins

I feel so strange. I don't know how to explain it. I'm feeling a million zillion different things as we speak. Let's list them, shall we?
Incomplete, taken advantage of, unappreciated, lost, ungrateful, destitute, haunted, nostalgic, naive...
And most of all apathetic (which is the most ironic).

I know I won't feel totally complete until George gets home.
How do I feel taken advantage of? I'm not going to answer that. I just do.
Same for unappreciated.
Lost kind of goes with the George thing. It also has to do with the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life and the rest of my life is fast approaching.
I feel ungrateful because so many people are trying to make me feel better about myself and I'm completely ignoring and/or throwing it away. Probably because those people are the same people who treat me horribly.
Destitute goes with incomplete.
I am constantly being reminded of the stupid mistakes I've made in the last couple of years.
Speaking of the last couple of years, I've been wishing I could go back and just relive some things. Not necessarily redo them. Just go through it again.
Naive. Oh, I could account for so many examples of how credulous I can be. I could give you forty examples from today alone.
And overall, I don't even care.

San Fran, CA...

Do you realize that San Francisco is everywhere?? Seriously, it is.
Everywhere I look, there's San Francisco. Commercials, advertisements, books, movies, tv shows, chocolate, everything.

Some telephone commercial
Full House
Ghirardelli
Monk
The Alchemist (a book)
Mythbusters
Just Like Heaven
The Pursuit of Happyness
The Princess Diaries
Eli Stone
Dharma and Greg


okay, i had a ton more... but i currently forget them.

this has turned into a mostly pointless entry...

Teach you...

I'm such a princess. Let me tell ya. Tiara and everything. If I don't get things my way, I throw a hissy. If people don't pay full attention to me, heads will roll. Oh, wait. That's not me.
I guess I really should apologize.
I'm sorry that I'm honest. I'm sorry that I want what's best for my friends. I'm sorry I say what's on my mind when it's completely necessary, though not completely appropriate. I'm sorry I'm immature. I'm sorry that I tend to spite people when they say incorrect things about me. I'm sorry that I love my friends.

Anyhow, I would like a horse-drawn sleigh ride. I'm watching a rerun (of course, since they don't run it anymore) of Gilmore Girls and Lorelai organized sleigh rides for everyone in the town. I wish I knew a quirky lady in my town who ruled the entire town with her... quirkiness. Maybe that could be me one day.
Nah. I'll be the curmudgeony lady who arrives only to spite those who thought she wouldn't show up and hangs in the shadows and mumbles and is generally... curmudgeony.

I think not

I'm not usually one to believe in coincidences. I'm always the skeptic.

Well, I'm still the skeptic but I think it's possible to believe in coincidences at the same time.
How is that once something horrible, traumatizing, frightening happens to me, I see everyone for who they really are? I see that best friends can't keep your secrets. I see that friends really don't care about you. I see that people who I never really took for close friends are the most honest with me. I see that the people I think are good and respectable can be the scariest. I see that I really am a tiny person who can't defend herself physically or even mentally.

For the second time in my life, I'm terrified of people. The last time, I was almost kidnapped. The other day, some kids I didn't know tried to talk to me and I wanted to run for dear life. I'm worried that anyone could be watching me at all times, ready to pounce. I feel like I have to put on this strong face because that's who I am, when really I just want to let it all go and bawl my pretty little face off.

Is it a coincidence that the moment I start to trust everyone, this happens?
Is it a coincidence that I was feeling so completely understood and now I feel the exact opposite?
Is it a coincidence that the people I need the most just happen to be the people I see the least?