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Here Again

Dear Readers.....,

It's been a while since my last post. I'm not even sure if that's true, I didn't even check the date but it feels like it's been a while since my last post. Maybe because I have so many thoughts going through my head and it feels as if I should be writing it down.

Anyway, I went ice-skating with some university friends downtown, it was on the 6th. It was really fun, festive and beautiful. The lights changed colors and everyone was having fun, even the people who didn't want to skate. I gave hot chocolate to a homeless man and it made me feel really good. Only our university students could have the chocolate and cookies, but I saw he couldn't get one so I gave it to him.

It made me feel really good.

I got sad though because he was homeless and no one asked to skate with me just like it was suppose to go in my head. I would be sitting all alone and then ask to go skating with someone, then we would skate along holding hands and wobbling, trying not to fall.

It didn't happened. I skated alone and with some friends. I didn't even fall.

I remembered seeing a guy I wanted to skate with and was actually working up ways to ask if he would skate with me. I see him on campus sometimes, he reminds me a little of Kurt Cobain (maybe it were the stripes he was wearing). He had a girlfriend.

Then the girlfriend asked if I could take a picture of them together with their friends.

Yup. That hurt my feelings.

And then, my sister had forgotten to pick me up because he was over her new boyfriend's place. She didn't even want me to go because it was her only off day for the week and she was so tired and didn't want to come and get me so late.

So I was outside for about an hour before I realized that she wasn't coming when I thought she was. So, with cold toes--I went to the student center where a few tears escaped. I felt a bit shitty, I admit. Not because no one wanted to skate with me--or ask me to--it was because....I felt lonley.

I felt really lonely.

Then someone forgot about me while they were over their boyfriend's house even though I had called them a few moments before I even left the rink so they could be there by the time I get there.

It hurt my feelings and she knew something was wrong, I insisted that it wasn't. I knew that it would have been nothing but hurt on my part if I had told her what was wrong. I don't like telling them that I feel sad because it happens so often I'm afraid they'll not believe me or roll their eyes or something.

Caroyln prompts me to talk to them, but it's hard because I don't know what to say or even if I should say it at all.

Recently, I've been emmersed in finals and knitting. And a book called the Last Werewolf. It's really good. I would love nothing more than for Jake Marlowe to come to me and take me all over the world. Sharing his knowledge and body, keeping me company when I have only the worse of myself for myself.

I've been thinking alot lately, about why the lonliness strikes me mostly in crowded places and at night. I think it's when I'm most vunerable. I don't know a lot of people, not really close people. I don't have that many friends and if I'm being unintentionally modest--I don't hang out with them alot.

I think it's because I feel the most vunerable because there's no one there.

No one at night to lay beside me. Not for sex, I don't feel like sex for a long time. Just to trade heat with. Maybe whisper the day's going-ons to them. SOmeone to tell me it's okay that I feel lonley.

I don't know.

Sometimes I feel like a cottage. I can't really explain it, but for all of you psychology majors out there--you'll know what I mean. One day, I'll post something that you'll understand about it. Promise.

I'm working on a paper today. It's due soon and my computer has a bit of a cold. I panicked about it last night, but I have to get it done. Finals is tomorrow for math and I'm nervous, but I'm going to skip by the review room and see what's going on.

I want to sleep. I'm tired of getting up everyday, worrying about things. About everything. I want to sleep for a long time and pick up where ever I left off. I want that so much, I don't like leaving my bed because when I'm away--I don't want to go back to it. I want to stay up, just incase that if I do--the next day will never come and I can be frozen in time only by how much I don't sleep.

But when I sleep, I go away and come back. I like going away, but the coming back is hard because I don't want too come back. I just want to stay and sleep.

I'm tired.

Another Drop

Dear Readers....,

Yesterday was one of those days, apparently because the universe seemed determined to make me cry.

It started off well enough, in the morning, you know. But I think that's how it always starts. Then, when you're settled down at your library of choice and blogging (chronicling?) to your site of choice--here comes Universe...all ready and shit to make you feel like a piece of it.

So Eric was crying yesterday, basically because he was insecure and I didn't want to be a girlfriend thing with him. He only wants the physical aspects, since we already know each other so well. They way we know each other, in my eyes, is that of two very close people. I don't want to say soulmates--but we've known each other for a long time and knows each other inside and out.

He sees it as a couple-thing.

We've talked about it time and time again, but he just doesn't understand it at all! I don't want to be his girlfriend becasue I don't see him as that. Then he goes to say that I always get what I want and he doesn't.

Meaning, I always get my way when I reject his physical advances and he gets stuck frustrated with blue-balls or something.

My body is not a bargining chip. Nor will it ever be. I tell him this too, and then he accepts it for a while before it happens all over again. Same song, same dance. It's making me angry because I feel guilty because I cannot be what he wants me to be and it feels as if he will leave me soon.

While all of this is going down in my head, I went to go see Caroyln. It was a good session, considering I was crying when I told her what happened moments before. I told her how I worry about things, and she wrote them all down and said how many there were. She was surpised to see how much I worry through out the day.

I guess I can't blame her.

She circled me something and gave me homework, told me to write about that circled-something and to throw it away. If I think of it again, write again--then throw it away.

So yeah. When I got home, I ate and went to sleep at, like, 7 or 8. I didn't feel like dealing with the world anymore. Not at that moment.

Anyway, I'm going to give blood today. I'm hoping oneof my group memebers will come with me, I mean--I'll go b

Got to go! Group time!

Once More on Thursday

Dear Readers.....,

Since it's Thursday, I just wanted to say Hi.

I won a debate yesterday in my English class! It wasn't really a debate-debate, it was more so us having to make up an argument (compelte with thesis and criteia and the such) and going up to present our case. This was our second and final debate--worth two extra credit points.

Sounds small, yeah, I know--but it actually works since the whole class is based off of a point system and the highest you can get is 40.00. I'm at 24 right now, not counting the paper I just turned in--so there are still points to be had. Anyway, I didn't think my group was going to win. We had everything we wanted to say, but it was shaky since we were so foucused on time.

Anyway, we were the Pro side and they were the Con side--they seemed to have a stronger argument than we did. But I think that was just me being myself and anxious! Or it could have been the tall, straping young man with cropped red hair named Brandon who spoke as if he was an intern for Obama.

Hard to say.

Anyway, after dishing out our counter arguments (which I think we did pretty dang good with, we came back!) the judges went out to diliberate. My group was asking each other if they thought we one. When I was asked, I said: Well, let me check my grade so I can know how to feel about this.

My group member, Aaron, laughed and nodded before doing the same. I like Aaron, he's coolbeans.

When the judges came back from their deliberation--they said we won!

I couldn't believe it! Brandon was a bit cheesed off, though. I couldn't really blame him. He lost twice! This was my first time being in a debate and I was judge for the last one. You can't be a judge twice and the teacher told me to at least try.

And we won! Whoo! That made my day.

What else made my day? My Math professor giving me a pretty bag filled with soft sock yarn! It was amazing! The bag was cool too! It was draw string and a pretty plum-pink color. With gold accents and such.

I promised her I wouldn't knit anything until the finals was out of the way so I can focus.

I like my bangs. I see Carolyn today and I don't know what to talk about. Maybe how I have been feeling about myself as of late. And the whole, body...thing...

I was looking at the magazines for Victoria Secret and they were all so pretty. It didn't make me feel good, but I couldn't help but to look. It was like a morbid curiosity. How could someone be that skinny and pretty?! It wasn't really fair! I flipped through the book until I started to feel mucky, I wanted to give up but then again I wanted to see all of the pictures. I like pictures, even if that's slightly creepy. The models looks so surreal and not from here, I know pictures are photoshoped from hell--but still.

I want to look like that.

I just want to be a bit skinnier, that's all.

I still hadn't decided on what I wanted to do abotu the wholes food situation...kinda up in the air now.

I wrote a little bit, an original. It's in my green journal that I've talked about before. The pages are almost out so I'd hate to simply leave them so few and empty to fill up another journal. So, I've stuck to it. Two pages so far. Isn't that much, but it's a start!

Oh, I have a new friend, too. Her name is Keira. She's fantastic. I can't even describe how fantastic she is because I'm not in the mood now. I promise I'll elaborate the next entry.

I brought a hat to knit, but I can't knit it now because the person I'm knitting it for is right across from me...

I knew I should have brought the socks...

Bangs and Prejudice

Dear Readers....,

Not much has happened along the way since the last time I've written to you.

At least, not much that I care to remember.

There was a few moments where I wished I was able to go to sleep. For a very long time.

On a bit of a lighter note, I've cut myself bangs. And they aren't crooked. One side is a bit shorter than the other, but it's hardly noticiable. I blame the fun-house of a mirror I have in my bathroom--alas, it didn't bother me as much as I thought I would.

It gives me charm, I think.

Again, it's not really out there--but It's enough that if I look up, I'll notice. It's not driving me crazy at all and I'm happy with it. It makes me feel pretty.

I also blame my sudden obsession with Pride and Prejudice. They have bangs there, pretty ones. I like mine. Makes me feel as if I should be writing with a quill or something--it's pretty damn wonderful.

I'm not sure if I've written about this or not but I went to a interview a while ago. A group interview for the Barnes and Nobels that's on my campus. I think it went pretty good and I left a portfolio. It's my only one, so I hope to get it back.

There is a girl who went to the group interview, she's in my tutoring classes as well (for I suck at mathematics)--they called her yesterday.

The woman said that she would contact us the Monday after Thanksgiving--I'm sad.

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

I have stuff due and everything and I cried, I think...day before yesterday. That night.

I was sort of lonely over my break, but I liked that I was able to sleep. I want to sleep more.

Polly Fever

Dear Readers....,

I never know why I did that. The ellipses and then the comma. Huh. Not gonna stop, so there.

Last night was a bit rough. It began maybe around...I'll go out and say 6 or so. It's hard to tell in this sort of season because it's all dark and stuff. I was watching an HBO documentary on YouTube (dude, I don't even watch Tv anymore...sad...) and it was about these women who were at this clinic because they were getting treatement for anorexica.

It was interesting to watch. To see the procedures the staff enforced, like every other day or so--they would wake he girls up and then take their weight. They do this at, like, 5:30 in the morning. Everyone is all sleep-soft and bed-headed. They have community sessions and stuff where they pass around this totem (Called the integrity stick) and talk freely.

There were about 5 or so main women they chronicled, one stuck out to me because she was so...alive.

Her name was Polly.

Polly had short curly hair, brown with honey colored highlights in it. I would say she was about 26 years old, she had an Literature degree and was so fiery. She was sassy and supportive and you could tell she actually wanted to be there.

She wanted to get better.

Long story short, and I don't want to be upset again, Polly was kicked out of the clinic. They said she didn't have integrity because she gave some meds to one of her bestfriends there. The woman's name is Shelly something. They took Shelly off of everything and Polly gave her a few (meaning two, in this case) mellowing pills since her anxiety was so high.

Polly also told a little fib and went to go get a tattoo with a friend (they aren't suppose to) but it was the symbol of anorexia recovery.

She smoked a little in her room to, along with two others. Her friends. Shelly and Kylie? I think her name was.

The officials called her a 'bad seed' and 'ring leader' and kicked her out.

She cried, but left with her head held high and a ciggarette inbetween her lips.

Polly died. In 2008.

That's where it started. I began crying and I felt sick and ugly because what they were feeling, I could sort of relate too. Not the whole not-eating-thing (I still hadn't decided if I wanted to do that or not). The sadness and lonliness and the yearning for at least that one person.

It hit me hard.

It wasn't fair, Polly had it in her. She wasn't done yet, she was alright for a while and then she...just died. It hurt me so badly, I was bawling as if I knew her. I think it was because I knew I wouldn't even have the opportunity to maybe meet her.

It was really intense, earlier that day I had a bit of a problem with the whole winter classes thing. Some of my classes were already full.
I don't want to talk about it anymore.

It hurt me, what happened to Polly. It wasn't fair. It still isn't fair.

Then I began thinking from there. I was thinking of how alone I felt. I know my family is there for me and some people out there doesn't even have any family. It's just they don't really understand how I can get certain ways.

My moods are things that I cannot understand sometimes, when I come to them for comfort--I feel weak beacuse I see it in their eyes. I see that they do not understand why I am making a big deal out of something they believe is nothing. Having people around you that you know love you--but do no understand the severity of your thoughts, it's lonely.

I just want that one person, someone who will hold me.

I'm pretty sure I mean someone romantically, I don't want my family holding me because...that'll be a bit weird. I want someone with strong hands and arms and who'll listen or not even say anything.

I want someone who'll make sure I'm okay and not take my word for it.

Ugh, I sound so pathetic. I feel that way, well, last night I did. Now I don't really feel anything.

If anyone reads this at all, I ask you do not think I am asking for attention or pity. I just wanted to tell someone. I'm not another person looking for someone to feel sorry for them, I'm just looking for someone who will listen to me. Even if they just read my thoughts.

I tell this blog more things than I've told Carolyn.

I should probably work on that.

My hair smells nice and now I'm eating cake frosting because I want something sweet.

Thinking of Experiments and Anne

Dearest Readers.....,

I've been using this journal more than I've been using my actual notebook journal.

I don't know, this one seems easier. I mean, the really personal stuff is in the physical journal. So it's cool. Some pretty personal stuff is in this one too, well, the weird thoughts and stuff.

The weird thoughts are harder to write out rather than typing it out. I mean, I can erase anything pretty quickly and everything. I don't have to frantically cross stuff out and stuff.

I guess it's not really a blog, but a..chronicle of some sort.

Maybe I'm tracking myself? I'd like to think of it that way.

Anyway, I've been thinking...

I was thinking of Anne Hathaway and her new role in 'Les Miserables' and how she lost 25lbs by eating only (basically) two crackers a day for a long time. She plays a dying prositute and stuff, she was already thin from the Batman movie she was in--and before that she was still then.

So to loose 25 pounds....eating only crackers.

It makes me think.

I want to be skinnier. So I've been thinking about not eating for a few days, I don't really want to call it a fast because it seems to be more expiermental rather than whatever-I'm-doing. I don't even know what I want to do, I'm not sure if I'm going to go through it.

But I think about it like this--we don't really have food constantly in the house anyway. So it'll take off stress from me and my family because when I say I'm not hungry--I really mean it.

But I've been reading about it and everything but I don't want to have the bowel complications and stuff. I don't want to be out of it either, I'm already out of it anyway.

I really want to be skinny.

Maybe I should say 'smaller'. Does the media have a major play into it? Yes. I think it does because it's only natural that you want to be like the people you see all the time. That's why they're famous. Because people want to see/be them all the time. I want to be skinnier so when I look down I don't see a belly. I want to see a bit of ...nothing.

I'm not going to commit to anything, just go the rest of today and the next few days without eating. I'm going to shoot for 3 days. Maybe 4 because today is Thanksgiving. I'll see how I feel after that and wherever that takes me, I'll go.

I'll only do this to loose my belly and then after that, I'll be back to normal.
Just a little experiment. Thats all.

I wore my hair curly for a few days. People liked it. I liked it. I'm going to wash it now so it'll be tamed once more.

I don't really know how I feel about myself or anything right now. Maybe I'll post something else later on today.

I'm still making my socks.
Dearest Readers....,

It's once again Thursday and I'm going to see Caroyln soon. For once in my bloging experience (is this a blog? I'm not really sure...), I'm not in a library!


I'm actually in the student center. I'm still high up though, on the third floor. Have you ever noticed how when you're high up you're really higher up and any-other high-up building?

I mean, the student center isn't that big--but when you go inside and go up a few floors--it's HUGE!

Okay, maybe not HUGE! but more so huge.

If I like high up places like this, I wonder if I'm like Hawkeye. I don't really climb stuff though, but I do like to watch other people from the vantage point. If Hawkeye was here, I would ask to be his assistant and my name would be Sparrow!

I've started a new pair of socks. They're self stripping, I think. The yarn was my birthday yarn and I was excited. I still am, it's soo cool that I've learned how to use DPNS (double-pointed-needles)! It makes me look and feel like a ninja (I only say look because one of my Speech Buddies said I did...I smiled).

They're going to be red with black stripes. Or, maybe black with red stripes. I'm not sure. I think they stripes will have an equal amount of sock-length ownership. There will be no battle for land going around on my feet. No siree...(Still wonder where that came from).

I've only started using the newer version of Livejournal. I like that they give you a choice to click on it instead of forcing it down your throat and into your ears.

The confusing part is the colors and the italics, though. But as long as you don't mess with the lettering, it's alright, I suppose.

They've discovered another planet. As far as I know, it doesn't have a name. It's blue, though. A pretty blue. The kind of blue that looks like the blue that's featured at least once on all of the Sci-fi shows. The kind that looks like its always glowing thought it isn't, like it's breathing. It's really pretty. I want to be that kind of blue.

Maybe it's blue because it's sad. They say it's an 'orphan' planet because it has no 'parental star' or whatever that means. It's pretty close to us though, astronomically speaking anyway. They say it may have been booted from our solar system. I don't think that's very nice.

Do you wonder if the planets had personalities? I just thought of it right now and it seemed like a thought someone would have at least once in their life. I just thought about it, so maybe it's the first thought of that thought in my life. I wonder would the sun be the one everyone loves and Venus is the one everyone hates?

Hm. Maybe Earth the little sister of the solar system because if planets were sentinent beings in a sense--then they would think having humans walking around on your face is like having pimples. Well, people have pimples well into their adult years. So maybe earth is just the pimple-y one.

Some people think that humans are bad for the earth.

Not all of us are.

I admittedly don't do all that I can, but I've never littered. I like planting flowers, though maybe I should look into planting trees or something.

Maybe earth is the sick one and everyone is rallied around her because They-Know how long she has left in the galaxy.

That's a sad thought.

Maybe the Pretty-Blue planet got too sad to see what was becoming of Earth and ran away. Maybe they were lovers, Pretty-Blue planet watches from afar because he can't stand what's becoming of his beautiful Earth.

And the others probably thought he just left...just because.

Maybe it's a big misunderstanding and now Pretty-Blue planet has no one and the Earth is afraid and everyone else has no idea what to do.

The scientists says that there are other starless planets out there--so maybe Pretty-Blue is looking for his true heritage. You know, one of those self discovery things? They haven't figured out he was there until today (or maybe a few days ago, you know how scientists figure stuff out early and then tell you later then they're sure?). So what if he was coming back to Earth?

To tell her what he found out in the galaxy? Maybe he's going to get closer and closer until he can tell her that there was others like him out there, and he could bring them all to her so she could see. Or maybe he never left at all?

Maybe he was just waiting for Earth to be ready to come to him and they can wander away together?

I like that one better.

I want it to be that one.

When I talked to Caroyln last Thursday, a lot of stuff came out. I didn't talk about my family much, just like I wanted.

I don't want to talk about it though.

She gave me a guide to see this thing called the 'DSM IV' I think. I've only related to one thing on that. I don't know if I found the right one, though. I don't know.

The planet talk made me feel a little weird.

I think I'm just really lonely. I don't really know. It sounds pretty pathetic, but I want this blog (Is it a blog..?) to be as honest as possible.

I can't seem to tell the people in my life these sort of things, I don't know how they will react or what have you. So I put it here...so I can look back.

I had gotten a cut on my left index finger, it's white and long now, fleshy and on the inside. A scar. It happened when washing dishes back when it was still hot out. Whever I think about that moment, I get a twinge in my stomach and it crawls up to my back. Like a Christmas bow.

I saw the meat on the inside. I kept seperating the folds so I can look at it. It only hurt for a moment, but I wanted it to stay open.

Blood was everywhere. From such a small appendage, it sure did bleed alot. When I bend it back, sometimes it twinges like it's open all over again.
Hello Readers.....,

It's a rainy day here. I like it.

Everything is grey and chilled, it's windy as well. One of my classes were cancelled so I'm done for the day though I suspect I won't get home until much later.

I presented today. We rocked in my opinion.

We were the first group, so we have a while before we get any work thrown at us. It's such a relief to focus on something else for a change! It's like a biiig heave of a sigh.

I don't really know how I feel.

I had a dream last night of an old teacher of my back in highschool. I had the biggest crush on him, all the girls did I think. He had the bluest eyes and a brilliant smile. I remember how I would be so bashful, then I began to grow out of my shell and became more quirky--it made him smile.

I miss him.

In the dream, he asked me out on a date. More like a dinner thing over his house, it was strange. I never got to go--the dream never got that far.

I've been thinking about it all day.

I thought if we were married. I was still the age I am and he was still the age he was. I'd help him grade papers at the dinner table, we'll talk over dinner. A play of words, witty comebacks along with saracasim. Then maybe some handholding.

I think I have a thing for older men. Not like Clint Eastwood old--because that's just ew. Even if he's so awesome.

Something, maybe liiike...let's see....I'm 18 so I have no problem snuggling up with someone that's under 40. Over 40 would be a little weird, you know?

But you know what, I'm not so sure because there is my lecture hall teacher and he's probably in his late 30's. He always wears a suit and he has an accent--he's the type of guy that'll take you to some lounge and pour you wine (well, apple juice in my case) and smile over the rim of his glass. A hand over yours, a brow raised in a challenge and a hidden kiss.

The older man who has no hold against taking care of someone, not really financially--but someone to hold on to on rainy days like this. Perhaps pay for a room at a hotel and will stay in bed with you the entire day. Touching and ordering room service, staring out into the view.


Anyway...there is this other professor. He's a professor for a friend of mine. A government professor, I believe. He has red hair. Brighter than a rusty pipe, but not firey red. It's a shock of hair, I suppose. And he has tattoos.

Like, everywhere.

You can see them peeking over the collar of his shirt and his wrists. He's slight, lean. Maybe built for swimming or something. His eyes are blue, I can tell from a distance.

I see him around on campus--sometimes he does his work in the UGL that I pratically live in. We walk past each other on the way to certain buildings. He held the door open for me once.

The type of guy he looks like.... I'n not sure.

He looks the type that'll come behind you when you're preoccupied with something, maybe thinking if it's rained enough for the grass to get all squishy. Wrap his arms tight around you and put his temple against yours. Chuckling at the way you squeak and squirm, but apologizing nonetheless though you both know he doesn't mean it. There would be a kiss, shy then something more.

I would like to see his tattoos. They're stark against his skin, it's pale. Milky, I think. Imagine on a day like this, staying at home. Curled on the couch staring at the ceiling or wall. The tv low on Food Network, dry kisses and coy touches. Mapping out every swirl and stain of ink on his skin, the designs showing proudly without the business casual stiffling them. A lion underneath a cat's collar.


I don't think I want a sugar daddy, that seems like too much work really. And I don't really want much, so buying me things wouldn't really do much anyway. I want an older man who knows what he wants, who wouldn't mind just...sitting somwhere with me. Even if we aren't touching, I want someone who can sit and speak to me without having to touch me all the time.

Then again, when I feel a feeling and I need to be enveloped--I can go to him and he'll hold me. Weither it's a rainy day like this, or a rainy day like that. Even if it isn't a rainy day--instead it's a warmer day with flowers and birds and sunrays.

Maybe it's just the rain making me think like this, or if it's always been this way and the rain just makes it easier to see.

With a Hat in my Bag at my Side

Hello Readers.....,

I bet your wondering just where I'm at right now.

Brace yourself for it may shock you.

I'm at the library.

Ha! On a Saturday, right? No more no less of something that should NEVER be done.

But alas...here I am.

Waiting for my group. We have a speech on monday and I'm a bit anxious about it. Well, more anxious that usual. My group was set to assemble at 10 even. I'm sitting right by the only staircase you can get to the second floor and I haven't seen anyone.

Well, anyone I knew.

My phone is right on my laptop as well. I'm getting a bit antsy. What if they didn't tell me a new meeting place? What if...eh, they'll be here. I don't feel like worrying about something like that. I've worried over more impressively-unimpressive things in my life.

So there, take that self.

In other news, a rather shocking thing happened to me.

A guy hit on me.

Okay, I know I'm not the vainest of people but I can say that I'm pretty. I'm moreso...cute. I can't imagine myself as sexy or beautiful or anything else--but I know I'm cute.

Anyway, I was sitting and contemplating working on the hat in my bag that was at my side--a Christmas gift with wonderful grey yarn that's so soft. It makes me want to sleep on it and cuddle it and so forth.

Anyway, a guy stopped and asked me where a certain book was. In a university library, I don't know diddly about it--but I asked if the librarians gave him a number or anything to follow.

They did. 5001-7002. Or something like that.

I pointed out the squared pieces of paper to him and told him to follow them until he found what he was looking for. It should be a piece of cake, I wish you luck--and he was off.

A few minutes later--he came back.

He asked if I had a significant other.

Out of reflex, I said yes. I do. It isn't because I think he was attractive or anything it's just that...he wasn't right.

You know that feeling when you see someone and you can't help but to think that you would be a bad pair? Or romantics weren't even an option for you two together?

I got that feeling....

First memember of my group showed up--!


Productive times were had and there will still be some productive moments to be had yet again. I was nervous for nothing, as usual--but oh well.

I believe my group is going to be just great when Speech day comes. After that, we have 2 weeks off from that class. We're the first group to go. I can't wait to get it over with, I have other things to do with that time.

As for my earlier train of thought, the one with the guy...


Right, okay, so yeah. Long story short, I gave him my email address because I don't think he would have left if I didn't give him something.

I should have told him how old I was, but I don't think that would have made much of a difference. He looked old enough to care about that sort of thing.

So far, here on campus I've been hit on twice. This being the second time. The first guy was when I was walking and I couldn't really stop, he asked me if I were taken and when I hesitated, he smiled. I continued walking--a bit of a run.

Sometimes I wonder what makes me pretty to men.

Is it my eyes? The way my face is shapped? Is it because I'm often not doing anything important when they see me?

I've thought about this for a long while when the first man hit on me. what made him stop me? I was walking and was a bit late to get to my sister's car. It was windy, I'm pretty sure my hair was all over the place.
Sometimes I wonder who will I be married too, if I ever get married.

Maybe I'll be one of those people who simply stay with the same person for years and years and just never get around to be married. I wonder what will my love think of me?

Sometimes I wonder if I walked right past him. If I missed him by mere seconds while waiting at the check out line. If the crosswalk turned red as soon as I made it across the street, leaving him stranded behind me without a single clue.

I wonder what color eyes he will have. How his laughs sound like, if he was tall or short. What color his skin was, if he had a middle name.

Mostly, though, while I'm wondering these things--I wonder if he's wondering about me. Or the girl he think I may be. If he'll ever meet me. I wonder if he's worried about that sort of thing, or will I do enough worrying for the both of us. That it transcends miles and miles so that it'll be enough.

I'm not sure.

I've changed libraries. I'm high up now. Near a window that's over an intersection. I see people walking and cars stopping. I see parked cars too. Sometimes a policecar or an ambulance will go through the lights. Sometimes the cars won't move. Not because they're mean, but maybe because they have no room or the sirens scared them.

They're loud sirens. I would shake me up too. I guess it's okay they're loud though, that way people can hear them in advance.

Advance is a funny thing. Like making something in advance or something else in a advance.

Last night, I told my sister in advance that I would need to be here early. For, you know, study group. I wanted her to understand, to make sure everything was okay. Then I asked her if she was cool with it.

She was annoyed that I asked because she didn't say that she had a choice. I asked her why was she upset, she said because hated when people asked if she was sure and she didn't have a choice.

I was upset and didn't speak to her the rest of the ride home.

She tells me to tell her things in advance to work things out. I did. I wanted to make sure she understood. She still got upset. I really don't understand what she wants from me in these cases. It makes me not want to talk to her because she always ends up mad at me.

I don't see the point in asking for things in advance if you're going to be upset in advance...

I don't feel so good, I'm going to knit a few rows. I don't think I feel like typing anymore.

While Nibbling on a Babe Ruth

Dearest Readers....,

Hello all. Who ever you may be.

Here I am, yet again, in a library as I write this for you. You know, I've always had a bit of trouble when it came to seperating the typing and writing thing. I've always thought of writing as dealing with a pen and a crisp piece of paper. Maybe not so crisp becauce I have a tendency to nibble on chocolate while I'm writing sometimes and it gets on the paper and stains it. It'll still be crisp, though...just not white. It doesn't matter though because any color can be crisp, really.

Like a crisp red. Or a crisp puce or something...

I digress though.

In my bag as a promise to myself is a composition notebook. Fresh out of the pack. It doesnt even have my name on it yet. It's a promise to myself that I will start writing again. Not fanfictions or one shots--but novels I hope to write one day. Even if they are nothing but a small idea or passage or statement--I don't care.

I'll write it down in his comp. book and nothing else.

It's strange to start a new journal when I have another that has a good 50 or so pages left. A graduation gift from one of my teachers on my way out from highschool.

The pages are beautiful and they claim to be 100% bio-degradable. It didn't feel right, though. Not the journal itself--its as cute as a button and I still find myself running my fingers along it's spine if it's withing reach.

But what's inside of it.

One after the other of 'One shot' and 'One shot' and, oh yeah, 'One shot'.

It's not one of my best journals. Some of them have original works inside of them--spanned and broken up by little commercials that I would use as fanfictions.

It's in reverse in the green recycle-y journal. It's strange and leaves my stomach churning and wincing.

I know it's okay just to write whats on your mind, but seeing nothing of your own in your own pages? It's a little....weird.

So. This new journal will be nothing more but my original works. No matter how many I decide to put in there. Maybe that's what I need to get myself back into shape. A nice little home with my own babies inside, so to speak.

As for my unfinished journal--I'm not going to toss it or anything. I would never toss any of my workings! I'll just write the fanfiction in there if I have a need too.

In other news, I've been very busy with papers and such. I don't even want to talk about it!

I've been using the word 'weird' alot. 'Strange' too. But you know, I guess I'm using it right since I really can't describe certain feelings that I may have. Isn't that the definition (or one of them) of weird and strange?


I've made an appointment with my academic advisor. Gotta get my winter scheduel up.

I'm a bit afraid. I'm doing badly only in one of my classes. I got a 14 our of 25. It's scary because it's english. But not the english I'm used too. It's the application of literary methods or something like that.

It's hard.

I don't want to fail.

I don't know what I will do if I do...

I have a speech due to give on monday. I have to get cracking on that too. I ususally don't worry about speeches. I always find a way. The only thing is that I have a group with me this time and we all are meeting up tomorrow. We've broken the speech up into equal parts, but I'm afraid I'm not going to do well in mine.

I mean, the people are really nice and I know them all...sort of know them.

I just don't want them to think I'm lazy or anything. Because I'm not. I make silly decisions sometimes but I'm not lazy. I do my best, I'd like to think. No. I do do my best, but I'm going to start doing my better-best.

That way, it can be no one's fault.

If I done all I can do to the best of my ability and something sad still happens--at least I know that I did my best!

I'll start myself off with the Figment daily prompts. I get one everyday and I've been sticking them in a folder for later. No more. I'm going to do it, and I'm going to do everything I think I can't.

I can't keep compairing myself to people all of my life because I'll never be me. I'll always be someone who was never someone else.

That's fucking scary.

I don't want that for myself. Even if I have to force myself, I want to be happy. I want that. I want I want I want I want.

There's so many things I want to change about myself, more than I want to keep. I have to fix that.

I want to be perfectly imperfect.



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