Let's be honest...

...If there's anything I'm going to be fucking awesome at, it'll be being a mother.

Sure, I'm swell with makeup, I'm a decent enough writer, and I used to be able to sing, and hopefully someday I'll be a terrifying and stellar lawyer, too. But y'know, I feel happiest when I'm caring for another person taking care of other people. Regardless of whether it's biologically my own or I adopt him or her as my own, no matter; I plan on loving my kids to pieces and never forgetting every time I've ever said, "When I'm a parent, I'll never do ______" because that's some important shit to remember, generally speaking. It won't happen for at least another five years, but whatever. I'm still stoked all the same.

Also, Brian (my 25-year-old brother) just screamed at me, called me a whore, and told me he doesn't want me here (in NY) and that neither does the rest of my family, so I guess I'm peacing out asap. Unfortunate, but that's how shit crumbles, and though I dealt with this sort of bullshit for 19 years, I'm fed up and don't feel like it anymore. I need a job, anyways, and Syracuse has so far been rather barren. I desperately need to buy a car, as there is no way I'll be able to get one without saving quite a bit of money.

Most of my friends in general have cars that their parents gave them or a relative passed on to them, which is mega swell (though a lot of them seem to not realize how lucky they are?), but unfortunately, my parents play favorites and have given both my brothers great cars and we have five cars at our house (and five people), but I am the only person who is not able to borrow one of them during the school year. And yet, I am the only one who makes an effort in school, graduated high school on time, and actually tries to work whenever possible. I am totally not complaining about having to buy my own car; that would be silly. I'm merely upset that my parents are sometimes remarkably blatant with their favoritism and they always make sure it's known that they resent me for a couple o' things, one of which is going to a far away school. Sorry, but Chapmantown gave me $33,000 in financial aid and that was too good to not take? Plus, they had opera, which used to be what I wanted and now it's too late to transfer anyways. Argh. I just need to get out of this house. I felt sad from the minute I showed up.

Little Harold and I at the camp in Maine when he was very wittle in 2007

Olivia and I in like summer 2009. She is so rad. :D

Hehe.



Olivia and I around Christmas 2009 I believe :)

Today at the Memorial Day parade with Little Harold :)

Starry-eyed

O rly, random Tumblr dashboard post?

I wish that it was impossible to care about somebody unless they cared about you. Like, your mind would not physically cooperate and let you have any emotions towards another person if he or she didn't give a damn about you in the same manner. But alas, I think that just makes our minds more inclined to enjoy that person's company, or lack thereof.

I am so angry with myself for destroying so much of what I had because I had a fucking hunch that things would work out. I was so used to being mutually loved that I didn't understand how, if I started a new relationship, that somebody I loved might not love me back. I mean, why the hell would you be with a person if you didn't love them, right? Welcome to 2009 Sam's magical logic that demolished any assemblance of what I had as a life prior to things changing. Over the course of a few months, I switched from being somebody who had (1)a certain future (2)somebody who loved them unconditionally (3)everything I needed in terms of support and time and became somebody--by choice, no less--who had (1)no security for future plans (2)a sort-of-boyfriend who wasn't even sure if they wanted to be in a relationship with young-and-psychotic-Sam in the first place (3)next to no support because I was terrified that if I asked for it, I'd be seen as needy (which, of course, I am) and would be rejected for that.

So, in conclusion, ladies & gentlemen:

Do not ever destroy what is a good and certain thing for what is not a sure thing, no matter how lovely you think things may turn out. Because it probably won't. Because if you are lucky enough to have somebody that loves you, you should probably just stay put because it is doubtful that you'll find that again for a long, long time, if ever.

But I will note that I only half regret my actions, because it would be irresponsible of me not to say so. I only regret them in retrospect because right now, I'm not feeling so positive about my choices, but when they were happening, I would've told anybody who doubted me that I knew exactly what I was doing (and I think I did?) and that things would be fine.

Goals are for crazy people.

I just got back from running. I ran just about 2 miles today, but I did it considerably faster than the past couple o' days. I almost didn't run today, but then I thought about it and decided that I have to try to do it every day I can because otherwise, I'll just find new excuses not to. And then I'll gain weight again. And then I shall be bummed and disappointed in myself for not continuing with my progress. I haven't been eating that well, though. I'm trying to change that gradually. Manda, Tim, and I ate Gardein vegetarian pulled "pork" last night and that was really good. Perhaps when my iron's all the way up again I'll go back to being a vegetarian.

Summer Goals:

• Keep running approximately 2-3 miles each morning; gradually increase by 1 mile every two to three weeks.
• Continue using FitDay.com to improve diet, exercise, and overall health habits.
• Get BMI down to ~19 (I want to be 120ish and I'm 5'7") which would mean losing about 12-15 lbs.
• Drop the 5 pounds gained during May (fuck you finals week) by June 15th.
• Get back to an almost normal sleep schedule.
• Be able to go shopping without feeling like death is becoming me because I can't look at myself in jean shorts.
• Life weights 2-3 times a week.

But people are so fickle; they fall in love at different angles.

This is an entry about my now-platonic ex-boyfriend who is awesome. So if you think that's weird, stop reading. But Manda and I were discussing him after we dropped him off earlier, so I've decided to write about him because Tim, to be honest, is a severely fascinating person, and we have a weird history.

So last night, Tim came over and it was the first time I'd seen him in 5 months. We wnt on the playground near my house, talked for a long time and watched the sunset (which was BOMB, wow). Then Manda met up with us at my house and we went to Wegmans. Tim, my most resourceful friend--this kid seriously got to California to visit me and back to NY via train hopping and hitchhiking without almost any money--now has food stamps. So he offered to get Manda and I some groceries, which was really lovely of him. I made dinner at my house and we ate the aforementioned veggie pulled "pork" sandwiches + low calorie waffles on the kitchen floor. :)

We made a fire in the fire pit and it was really, really nice. It was just like 9th grade again when I was dating Tim and Manda, him, myself, and (shudder) Nicole/Megan/etc. hung out. Seriously, we had some rad times with Tim. Like the time David and I broke up and so Tim walked like five miles to my house, listened to me cry (on that same playground) for like an hour, then he peed on Justin's house because Justin was a douchebag to Manda that night, we went back to Manda's with Kelsey as well (none of us three could drive at this point in 2007) and I cried some more.

But he listened, because he is the only ex-boyfriend I've had with whom there weren't any weird complications with, or hard feelings. I mean, I was pissed when we broke up--he was my first "serious" relationship or whatever, but we dated more than five years ago so things aren't exactly volatile anymore. Plus, we totally still love each other in the most friend way possible and I'm just stoked that I have one of those "normal" ex-relationship-friendships for once, rather than the (1)"I-still-want-to-get-back-together-so-this-really-sucks" friendship or the (2)"fuck you, you piece of shit" friendship or the (3)"seriously, Tom, I might just send somebody to run you over" friendship. In any case, Timmy is rad, and he still laughs when I pull out the, "WELL YOU BROKE UP WITH ME JERKFACE!" card (which, I swear, is always for the lulz and in no way a sensitive topic). I'm just...stoked that I still have a fellow who isn't resentful towards me and isn't trying to bone. It's sweet.

Manda and I have watched Tim:

• Drink upwards of 4 forties numerous times starting at age 14 (even though he lied and said he was 2 years older for the next three years).
• Be in at least 4 punk bands.
• Wear a tutu in exchange for a fedora. And let me put him in makeup multiple times.
• Eat meat. Then became vegan for four years. Then started eating meat again like a month ago.
• Publicly pee on our ex-boyfriends' houses.
• Live with my douchiest ex in a collective house on Westcott, and in one night, hit on both of us (alcohol was involved, of course).
• Wear the tightest pants imaginable. EVER. And he fit into my size 1 pants from 9th grade.
• Hardly shower but still remain quite attractive.
• Stretch his septum to 0g (that is 8mm, mind you: half the size of my lobes) and then suddenly decide it wasn’t cool anymore.
• Argue about politics more times than I can count.
• Stop listening to Agnostic Front and start listening to post-rock and indie (wtf).
• Get a facial tattoo (four dots on his nose).
• Quit drinking cold turkey, go straight edge and get a damn straight edge tattoo. Right before I fucking turn 21.

A perfect example of typical Timothy: After Manda’s senior ball at her school that we went to with this kid Mike, she had a party at her house. Tim came over (and this is back when he still drank) and we were all hanging out with some other folks. Tim and Mike, who was joining the army and was a taaad bit racist, get into a massive argument about the war. 17-year-old Samantha (that is I, in 2007) decide to make them stfu by taking off my shirt and demanding they stop arguing. Mike stops arguing immediately. Tim keeps arguing. He has seen my b00bz before, it was apparently null and void and he continues to yell, “BUT SERIOUSLY, THAT’S NOT EVEN THEIR REAL MOTIVATIONS, MAN, LET’S DISCUSS THE OIL FACTOR…”

This is why we love Timmy. Now for photo-lulz in chronological order.

(Also, I was sort of a douchey mall goth when Tim and I met. Just a warning.)

The first time Timmy hung out at my house. He had been stealing a belt from a store
then he walked out of the store and his friend Arlen (who was meeting up with Manda that day
invited him to come because he knew Manda was bringing a friend (me). Tim came over to
Manda's, and I thought he fucking hated us. He came over later that night to my house, and
still thought he hated me. But Erica drove Arlen, Tim, and me to Syracuse to bring them home
and on the way back, Tim held my hand. It was friggin precious. We were dating within like 4 days, hahaha.

Manda and I maaaay have dressed Tim up a lot. But seriously: note the tight pants.

One of the first times we hung out since we broke up in 2005. I think this was taken in 2006.
I was obviously precious.

And he was willing to let Panda and I experiment on him.

Uh, back when Tim still drank (2007). He was sitting next to aforementioned Mike (ball date to Manda and I)
at BVille Diner. He had had a bit to drink. I bought him a dish of fruit because he was still vegan.
He passed out in it.

At my grandparents house in January 2009 over winter break from Chapman.

From the time when Tim hitchhiked/train-hopped dto visit me in CA last year
with his buddy Alex. They even visited the smoker's table. ;D

The facial tattoos!

And finally, the photos from tonight. :) Timmy + Manda!

Manda and I!

Timmayyy and I.

Oh, and look at the fucking sky from last night:

Oh, and I kinda wanna dye my hair black again. I look like a boy.

Ryan and I circa late 2007/early 2008.

Still one of my all-time favorites of Manda.

Also, don't assume because I wrote some big ol' entry about the kid that I'm into him or something. We're just buds. I frequently go on raving about Manda, Ryan, Gina, Heidi, etc. as well. I have no idea why I'm announcing something that silly in my blog, but...whatever, cheers.

Well, everyone's sad.

Things that have happened since I returned:

• I went running at 8:03 this morning because (1)I feel fat and (2)I can't sleep.
• My mother told me I am no longer beautiful. But that there are things I can do to make me beautiful again. She didn't understand why I was upset.
• I found the kick ass mug that I spent like 3 hours making for my mom for Christmas = holding her Sharpies in the far back on the top shelf of a random cupboard. Lovely.
• Stepped on the scale and I now weigh 135. Fucking stellar. I'm 5'7" and I was about 129/130 until finals week happened.
• The first thing my dad said when I returned, in typical fashion for my family, was "Hey Saman-...oh god, what have you done to your nose?" And then gave me a half-assed hug.
• Mohammad completely blew us off yesterday. Rad! Excuse: He simply had to see the people he sees literally every day. James was right in his predictions; for shame, Memali. "Je t'aime," my ass.
• I watched "Girl, Interrupted" for the first time in a few years and remembered why I don't watch it anymore.

I'm going to start exercising consistently again. Here's what I look like when I weigh more or less, by the way. I just hate gaining weight in my face and stomach. And I wish that when I explained my desire to lose weight, people didn't auto-assume it was inflicted on me by the media. I just don't like how I look when I am >127 or so. That is still a healthy weight, so fuck off.

There have, of course, been good things. I went to dinner with Ryan & Papa Harvey on Saturday, met up with Manda, Eddie, Kari, and James for a bonfire with blueberry beer that night, watched the Lost finale with Ry, Papa Harvey, & Jeani on Sunday, hung out on Westcott for a minute then smoked hookah at Manda's with her, Eddie, Kari, & James, and went to Friendly's with those same folks tonight. And Cinnamon + the cat have been very cuddly with me.

I am also starting my own website. My mom's great with website design, but I'm not exactly looking for a ton of reasons to be around her right now. She either cries because she's worried about me (which makes me feel terrible and guilty but I end up just hugging her and reassuring her) or discusses what's wrong with how I am (which makes me just feel terrible).

If I am the sum of my parts, then who am I? Because these shambles don't seem to be amounting to much when I look at them in their natural state, in pieces.

Heaven is a good apartment with answers.

Hypothetically, there's such a thing as an afterlife. If it were ideal, I would hope it would be whatever each individual person's would want to live like forever, or perhaps a series of vacations that never end until you want them to. My own person slice:

• Finding out all the great mysteries I've never understood. Finding out what UVB-76 really is, or what undiscovered creatures are in the depths of the ocean, or understanding the Voynich Manuscript. I can think of few things more exciting and enthralling than searching for answers on adventures and being able to find them.
• Having a fucking awesome house in the country with tons of animals--but because it's the afterlife, the animals just want to be cuddled and run around and hang out with each other. There is no shoo-shoo in the afterlife.
• I would never need to look up songs; just automatically have the title and artist in my head.
• My hair would really be like Tonks' and would just change whenever I wanted it to.
• Everyone I love would be around some of the time.
• My other apartment in the city--there are huge non-polluted cities in my "heaven"--would be bomb. It would be full of the amazing and ridiculously priced things in Sky Mall and there'd be no extra charge for pets and my grandparents would visit all the time.

Speaking of bomb apartments, my apartment next year should be pretty bomb. My house from this year that I shared with Rae, Heidi, and Anna was pretty rad (pool + lots of trees), but the Aspens is so lovely. Things I dig about my apartment:

• First of all, the whole thing looks like a hobbit town.
• It's gated, meaning I won't be nearly as paranoid as usual.
• Fitness center that runs 5am to 10pm.
• Living with Gina and Julia, both of whom are fantastic.
• Quite a damn bit cheaper than Glad House.
• 2 swimming pools that are both heated, yesss.
• Spa!
• Tennis courts!
• Balconies are awesome.
• Air conditioning/heat.
• Our gas bill is paid for by them.
• Lots of people I dig are living there next year (Rae, Rocco, Bryan, Heidi, etc.)

Disadvantages:

• We'd have to rent a refrigerator.
• They don't have 3 bedroom apartments so Julia is taking the living room, which makes me feel bad for her :( But we'll fix it up mega snazzy and make sure there's lots of privacy for her.
• Parking sucks.
• Lots of people from Chapman live in the Aspens that I don't like, as well.
• It's probably too small to have rage parties, bummerrrr.

• 
  
• 

This is where I get to live!

I've been in NY since Saturday and now it's Monday. I need to go hiking or something. Maybe organize my makeup.

Ever look back on your adolescent/young adult experience and think how abnormal yours was? Maybe mine wasn't crazy abnormal, but if I keep comparing myself with other people, I'll probably go crazier than I already am.

She calls it an addiction; I just call it a friend.

I think I'll start writing in this again. Gina has been and she mentioned it the other day, and I thought about how little I'll be doing over the summer and the appeal of blogging once more, haha. I've done so poorly this semester. Shame on me. I am hoping I can raise my GPA next year and senior year, but...gah, well, let's just hope my LSATS will be incredible. Hope hope hope.

The past five months have been absurd. Overcrowded and overdone, this has been the period of my life where everything 2009 and backwards is "The Before" and everything 2010 is "The After" and it entirely split. I will not say I've grown up a ton this year, because that's probably not true. I became quite mature for my age as of around 13 years old (when another split of "Before This" and "After This" happened), but I don't think I've changed nearly as much as a normal person does since then.

No, I am still the same whining child, desperate for a hand to hold hers while checking underneath the bed and in the closets. I am still hopelessly needy and I don't know why. I want to be different so badly; I have tried and I am trying, but when results aren't evident, nobody will believe that. And maybe I need to change my tactics, but that's happened multiple times and things always end the same. Every single time. It's just a sick cycle through years or months or days, and I can't shake it.

I'm back in NY now, and will be for a bit. Quite a bit has changed here and not all for the better, but some is pretty solid. I am determined not to get upset about the things and the people I won't change, and so far (two days, woo), so good.

My last couple o' days in Orange consisted of:

Wine, of course, given to me by Zak at 3am on Wednesday.

A frightening (well, not frightening for Greg and I, but clearly
it got the desired reaction from these lovely ladies hehe)
movie at our place with Greg, Heidi, and Gina.

Myself, Gina, and Greg, who is graduating. Bummer.
But I will be living with Gina, and that's fantastic, so this is a happy photo.


Ihop with the Sheehaninator for cheesecake pancakes.

A new tattoo. It's Saul Williams/Sylvia Plath based.

Elizabeth drunkenly yelling and dancing with me.

About as drunk as these ladies get. Oh wait, that 70s party...

THE FINAL RAGE?!

The last person I said g'bye to.

Hello, New York.
It's a shame I almost didn't come home this year.