I'm a big fan of adjectives. Life would be so boring without adjectives. So, when I went searching for the perfect word to describe every single thought and emotion going through me, I easily found the perfect fit.

Disillusioned: a freeing or a being freed from illusion or conviction; disenchantment.

I'm nineteen and disillusioned with life.

What all has led to this conclusion? Well, just a few realizations I've made over the past twelve hours:

Real friends are much harder to find than you might think, and you never know when they'll stab you in the back.
Sometimes, there really isn't a way when there's a will. Sometimes, you're really just fucked if you don't have the money.
People make mistakes all the time, and can only be forgiven if they feel bad enough about them.
The truth really does set you free, but with a heavy price.
No boy is worth crying over. They're only here to help populate the earth.
Sometimes there isn't a song to describe it, not matter how hard you look.
Real friends will always tell you the truth, even if it hurts both of you.
Real friends will also not condemn the truth-telling friend. Always value honesty.
There really isn't enough coffee in the world to fix it.
The only worthwhile ones are gay. Sorry.
Being where you belong is lot easier said than done.
Escaping is always futile. You can't outrun yourself no matter how hard you try.
You should never regret loving someone, but that doesn't mean you can't want to castrate him.
It really is impossible to love someone before your mid-twenties.
It's not worth the fight if the one you're fighting for also happens to be the one you're fighting.
Sometimes life sucks. Life doesn't care, so you might as well get over it.
No, alcohol won't help. It just makes you stupid and pays you back in the morning.
Big future plans usually get fucked over right before you can really do anything to put them in motion. Might as well just live for the moment and fuck planning.
Being an opportunist has its perks, and it's totally worth it for a while. And then you have to find a different opportunity to waste your time on.
Nerdfighters really are the greatest people on earth. It's just too bad I really don't get to hang out with them irl.

Disillusioned. I'm not happy about it. In fact, I'm angry about it. Furious. So mad that I can't cry or talk or do anything but rhyme on a piece of paper. There's no way to express it all except on paper.

I really do love adjectives, if only because I love the power of the written word. Writing has always been my escape. It helps a little. I'm slowly leaking everything out so that I can start again. I won't ever be enchanted by the world again, though. That's been ruined for me. But I can pretend and I can escape for short periods of time.

All I need in this life is a pencil and some paper.

December 1, 2009

I'll get straight to the point.

My mom was offered a job in Seattle. If she can get them to up her salary to $80,000, she's going to take it.

I'm not sure where that leaves me. I mean, obviously, I'd stay here and go to Grossmont for the full year. But I don't know where I'll be living or if I'll stay after this year. But that's okay because I'm fully determined to go back to Etown after this year. I have this strange feeling that there are better opportunities out there for me.

That said, I'm giving up. I'm tired of everything the way it is now and I've wasted too much time. So, it's over. If I'm acting strange, that's why. It's because I'm done. It's because I can't possibly do this any longer.

For the occasion, I wrote a song that I'm not going to post here because it's useless anyway. Why bother trying anymore, right? I'm clearly just not worth it. Never have been.

Day Twenty-Four: On Goodbyes

What does it mean to be ‘bad at goodbyes’? I mean, that could go so many ways. Some people might cry whenever they say goodbye, or some get depressed, or some get really clingy. But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who does what I do. At least, I’ve never discussed it with anyone I know.

I rarely get distressed when it comes to saying goodbye. I’ve always thought of it as a temporary thing, so why get upset? I know when I say goodbye, I’m going to be able to say hello again at some point in the future. Call me an optimist or a religious zealot, but it’s just how I think about it. For example, when I first left for Pennsylvania, the only person I cried over was Teresa. When I left Etown to come home, the only person I cried over was Stepf. I didn’t even cry when I said goodbye to the girl I’d been living with the entire year—the girl I’d immediately become attached to and called family.

Does this make me bad at goodbyes?

I don’t think so. I think I have much better things to waste my tears on and more than one reason to be happy. Why cry over a temporary absence?

You’re probably wondering where this is coming from. No, I didn’t just randomly sit down and start thinking about this today. It was a couple days ago that I really looked at this issue with any real concern. But I felt like I needed to write it all down because now I’m dealing with more than just a temporary goodbye.

My great Uncle Larry died last night. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. It’s not like I was really close with him, but he did add so much laughter and happiness to family gatherings that I can’t help but be…bothered by this. But I didn’t cry. It didn’t even really hit me until just now. He’s gone. And I still can’t cry. I’m not terribly sad. I’m still able to laugh about the characters I’m reading about, and I’m still feeling normal and relaxed.

Maybe I really just started thinking about this when my mom asked me what was wrong with me.

Is there something wrong with me? Am I the real definition of ‘bad at goodbyes’?

Day Sixteen: Harry Potter

Two words: Harry Potter.

Saw it at midnight with Jenelle, Claire, Brandy, and some chick whose name I still can’t remember. It was amazing. There are three scenes that are absolutely hysterical and so well acted that my entire impression of the movie was based solely on them. And then the romance between Harry and Ginny…my God, it was fantastic. It almost felt like their chemistry was so heated that it was improper to watch. Like it was one of those things couples do that just shouldn’t be in public. Something sweetly private. Not raunchy private. Just sweet. And kinda funny.
Remember kids: wear protection when tying shoelaces.

Anyway, the romance stuck with the book perfectly. Before the sixth book, all the romantic urges Harry has are kind of shadowed by the ‘OMGVoldemortisbackOMG’ factor. In the sixth one, though, the ‘monster’ inside Harry is mentioned frequently, and his notice of Ginny much more pronounced. The movie did an excellent job of bringing that out. Every so often, there are little scenes between Harry and Ginny that weren’t in the book but are totally perfect, so it doesn’t even matter if they were written beforehand or not.

Going back to the good acting part, I really think being on Broadway and on stage in London helped Dan Radcliffe. He kept to Harry’s character and delivered his lines sooo much better. Especially in the love potion scene and the Felix Felicis scene. They were played out exactly as I had imagined them—only better. And Rupert Grint in the love potion scene was amazing. He’s always been a talented actor and I think going out for other movies really helped him improve, too. Driving Lessons is one of my favorite movies because of him. And now he’s in Cherry Bombs, which I really want to see. As for Emma Watson, she finally learned how to control her overactive eyebrow syndrome. It’s much more enjoyable watching her now. She really is very pretty and talented. And her interaction with Rupert was awesome. They fully captured the awkwardness and the sweetness of Ron and Hermione’s relationship.

Bonnie Wright. Oh my God. I love her. I’ve always loved her. I’ve always thought she was gorgeous and perfect for Ginny. No one else believed me until they saw this movie. The first thing Claire said when she came on screen was, “Oh, she’s pretty now.” WRONG. She’s always been pretty, they just put make up on her to make her look young and ordinary. She was supposed to blossom in the sixth book. Rowling even emphasized how much she had changed in her looks by making the Slytherins mention her beauty. So, yeah. As usual, I was right. Hah.

Now for my favorite: Tom Felton. That kid is so awesome. He might not be as cute as he used to be (circa movies one and two), but he’s not ugly. And when he was in the bathroom crying, it was perfect. And the scene on top of the north tower. The way he looked sick and exhausted and desperate—perfect.

They all just really stepped up their game in this movie and it shows. I’ve seen it twice now and it’s still just as amazing. Hopefully, I’ll be seeing it again next weekend. :) Oh, Harry Potter. I love this stuff. Really, really love it.

Day Four: On Friendship

I need to actually start posting these things, but I was so fed up with YouTube last night, that I failed in doing this.

Anyway, the topic of discussion today is friendship. I wrote two letters yesterday, one to Teresa and one to Coco. Long story short, the themes of the two letters were wildly different. But they made me think. I just started writing down all my thoughts of what I would like to say, and then more thoughts kind of came to me as I writing the first ones down, and by the time I was finished writing these letters, I was completely emotionally drained. It was really intense.

I talked to Matt last night after I got to thinking about all of it again, and I was crying and trying to figure out what to do, and he made everything better. I feel like I should write him a letter, too.

I’m not going to go into specifics because I don’t want to make this issue public, even if only a couple people actually read this. But I’ll put the general…idea out there. Teresa and I are having some problems. And maybe it’s my overactive imagination at work here, and maybe I’m blowing things out of proportion, but I am genuinely hurt by what’s going on. I’m not sure if it’s her issue or if it’s my issue, but I want to do something about it. That’s what talking to Matt did. It made me motivated enough to grow some balls and actually do something. We’re going to talk on Saturday and, hopefully, work out all our issues. Or possibly create newer, bigger ones. Either way, I know for a fact that I’m not just going to disappear from her life, no matter what stupid thing she does or whatever bitchy things I do, because she’s been a big part of my life for the last two years. Inconsistent, but still a part of it. I can’t fault her for that because I do the same thing. Out of sight, out of mind. But when I come back, everyone I’ve forgotten is still here waiting for me like nothing happened. That means everything to me. I hope it means just as much to Teresa.

My sophomore or junior year of high school, I got a list of quotes on friendship to use for some project or essay. I wish I still had those quotes, because they were beautiful. But I remember one because I wrote a blog about it the night I got the quotes: “A true friend doesn’t jump off the edge of a cliff with you; they wait at the bottom to catch you when you fall.”

I live by that quote. I always want to be waiting at the bottom. I always want someone waiting for me at the bottom. I don’t know how well I’m doing in this endeavor, but I know how many amazing people I have catching me when I fall, and that’s what helps me wake up every morning.

So, yeah. Friendship.

Thanks. It means a lot more to me than I ever say out loud. :)

Day Three: On Numbers

I am always only a number.
I came to this realization on my way to work today. I’ve experienced what it’s like on both sides of the fence when it comes to numbers. In high school, I was a number and, after the first few weeks of school, a name. In Etown, I was a name. At Grossmont, I am a number.
There’s something about anonymity that makes me feel safer, though. Teachers don’t pay too close of attention, so I can get away with slacking off a little bit. Back in Etown, if I missed an assignment, everyone knew. If I failed a test, everyone knew. If I got an A paper, everyone knew. Do you see a pattern here? But, still, it was nice to be a name and a face and a person instead of just a number. I wasn’t just a list of credentials on a piece of paper. I was a person—a student.
I’m out of Etown now, and I’m in California. If I stay here, no matter what happens, I’m going to be a number at some college. CSU’s are too big, and small private schools might not accept me as a student. So I’m going to be a number if I stay here for college.
That’s college, but what about life after college? Well, that’s simple enough. I’m still a number. I have been since birth. I put it on all my work applications, college applications, and everything else of any official matter. And I have to pay to keep my numerical identification.
My social security number.
No matter what I do, who I am, or where I’ve been, I will always be a number assigned to me by the government at birth.
Therefore, I am always only a number.

Day Seventeen: Ughhhh.

I swear I've been blogging every day. I just haven't been posting. But today that changes. I'll post everything I've written at some point. Later.

I woke up this morning, exactly ten minutes before my alarm, with cramps. Lovely, right? I thought so.

So I got up, went to the bathroom, took care of what needed to be done to make sure I didn't bleed out all over the place (which is really disgusting and hard to clean, by the way), and went out to the kitchen to take a handful of Midol 'cause I knew the cramps were only going to get worse. They always do. I then went back to bed, turned off my alarm, curled up into the fetal position as God's curse to women made itself known by way of intense uterine cramping, and picked up a book to read to distract myself until the Midol took effect.

I've heard women crave chocolate because it has caffeine and caffeine makes everything better. Therefore, I had a cup of coffee AND chocolate this morning. And now I'm chugging water because dehydration makes it worse. Which means bathroom trips every 45-60 minutes. And increased metabolism. So I'm hungry, thirsty, peeing, and in a constant state of, what I like to call, 'ugh.' Because the worst part of this first day is the feeling that your insides are turning to mush.

It's hard to explain how this feels.

It's not painful, not after the Midol or Advil kicks in. But there's this distinct feeling of grossness in the lower abdominal region. You know it SHOULD be hurting, but instead all there is is this discomfort that kinda makes you squirm because it's in between annoying and uncomfortable. But it doesn't hurt and it's not at the forefront of your mind. It's just there. You know it's there, but you can ignore it if you concentrate on something else. But the second you're done, it's there again. Like a tiny fly buzzing around in your brain.

For some reason, after all this happens, I start feeling like everything in my lower abdomen is one big, mushy pile of grossness. That hasn't hit me yet today, but I know it will. Especially if I'm standing or walking around. Sitting down, everything is okay. But, as I mentioned before, I have to pee a lot. So I'm getting up and walking and feeling like mush.

Ugh.