Showing posts with label bad days. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad days. Show all posts

Sunday, October 17, 2010

In the past 2 days...

  • Eric came back to socal for one night. We went to dinner with Trevor, Nate, and Sarah. I left the next day and so did he.
  • On a spur of the moment decision, I went to a little warehouse party with Rocco, Bruhners, Sun, and Mike + girls. Had a fun time but got a bit sick towards the end. Listened to excellent music on the way home, though, and that made everything so much better. Watched A Cross the Universe and then went home, passed out hard.
  • Got lunch (well, Jamba Juice) with those fellahs then watched a bunch of music videos while listening to Romborama.
  • Got a text from my dad saying that my grandfather had died.
  • Talked to Mateo for a bit.
  • Couldn't stop crying. Ended up driving over to the 70s House.
  • Josie and Katie got me sunflowers, a bunch of Hershey Kisses, and wine. Josie made me a really lovely tray of bacon (in a heart shape), avocado slices, and Kisses (also in a heart). It was seriously so lovely. They listened and hugged me and were just so fantastic to have there.
    Isn't it adorable?!
  • We ended up drinking a bunch of Grey Goose once Bryan, Charlie, Dave, Jacob, Shervin, etc. came. A lots of wine. And played Jenga. And cheersing to my grandfather, which made me feel wonderful that they were so kind about it.
  • Pascal made dinner and it was damn delicious.
  • Bryan drove me home and, on the way, he got me a blue slushie (my absolute favorite edible thing besides avocado). Not gonna lie, at that point, I almost cried because I feel all sorts of lucky to have such lovely friends.
  • I actually felt better, which I wasn't expecting (only because I generally don't feel better when I drink). Everybody was so supportive and just so sweet and caring...I am a lucky gal.
  • I didn't eat for around 32 hours between Friday afternoon and late last night, and so when I drank I got really drunk and felt super ill. And now I'm hungover as fuck and don't have anybody to cuddle with.
  • Also, considering how amazingly sunny and hot it is 99% of the time here, it's interesting that yesterday and today have been chilly and wet.

I feel lucky to have such awesome friends. And I feel hungry but I don't want to eat again. I just want my body to go into ketosis again and I won't eat until Hard Halloween so I can look fucking awesome in my costume and dance for 8 hours straight and then perhaps some more. This is all I want. That, and maybe the pack of cigarettes I left at their house last night.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

There'll be times when my crimes will seem almost unforgivable

So, for Halloween-time I've decided on a few different costumes for the different events going on:
  • For the costume wedding Eric and I are going to on the 23rd, I'm trying to convince him to be something with me buuut I doubt that's going to happen. So, I'll maybe be a blue haired Veronica Lake or Marilyn Monroe or Sophia Loren...something like that where I can dress up fancy and all that business.
  • On my birthday, I think I will be a peacock. Blue lashes, feathers, lots of makeup, etc. And shimmery blue or matte turquoise tights with my crazy-tight green dress.
  • For Hard Halloween, I'm going as the Black Swan persona from, duhrp, "The Black Swan" with Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis. Really, my costume doesn't have anything to do with the story since the film's not even out yet, buuuut the makeup and hair will be totally inspired by it. I think I'm going to wear my high-waisted super tight American Apparel tap shorts with either a long-sleeved see-through lace shirt (the front isn't see-through, though, no worries) or a black lace tank with silver rhinestones and a lace pattern (done with makeup) on my chest. Aaaand some somewhat comfy, yet still quite tall, heels on top of a pair of either metallic black or silver tights. And maybe some gloves. Makeup will be super fun:
  • On actual Halloween, I think I'll be the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Or maybe I'll do that for my birthday party. Meh, who knows. Lots of colors, a sideways hat, baggy crazy pants and jacket, crazy shoes. Fun!

This is what it feels like.


The (newly titled due to his pseudo-postcard) Fuckentucky Mix from myself sent to Eric as he finishes his AD-ing in Kentucky. On a farm. In the middle o' nowhere. Where I am not.

Anyways:
  1. The Archies - Sugar Sugar
  2. Sugarplum Faeries - All I Want Is You (U2 cover)
  3. Shlomo - Spoons (Shigeto Mix)
  4. Teengirl Fantasy - Hollywood Hills
  5. The Crystal Method - Come Back Clean (ATLAS Remix)
  6. Caribou - Odessa
  7. Anticon - Pity Party People Interlude
  8. Leslie Feist - Lover's Spit
  9. Caspa - Victoria's Secret ft. D1
  10. Yours truly singing and playing "Misty"...I cannot even say how much I didn't want to put this on here buuut let's be vulnerable, shall we?
  11. LCD Soundsystem - New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down
  12. Emily Reo - Car (Built to Spill cover)
  13. The Beatles - Do You Want to Know a Secret?
  14. The Cure - Friday I'm In Love
  15. Mr. Oizo & Gaspard Auge - Rubber (Flying Lotus Unprotected Sex Remix)
  16. Friendly Fires - Strangelove (Depeche Mode cover)
  17. Rusko - Forever
  18. Pink Floyd - Speak to Me - Breathe
  19. Cat Stevens - Wild World
  20. WHY? - Afterschool America

I'm on set this weekend (including as I write this), but don't have it tomorrow because we're finishing a day early (!!!), yet this definitely makes today feel like a Sunday rather than a Saturday. Next Thursday, Eric comes back, but he probably will only be back for a day and not completely home til the 20th. Which is a bummer. But it was be nice when he does come back for good; I've been 800 times needier since he left a month ago.

My right eye has had something in it all fucking day and it's really painful. I look like I have pink eye but I can seriously feel the something-or-other lurking on/under/around my contact, but have tried everything + have had zero luck on fixing it. For shame.

My birthday is in 3 weeks and I am so excited, fuuuuck. I desperately want a Nikon D3000, and I miiight have enough to get one. That weekend is going to be fantastic, I think. Halloween always goddamned is. Almost always, I suppose. But how perfect is it that my birthday falls on a Friday and Halloween's a Sunday? It's perfect. I love it. Mreow.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Autophobia.

I need to start drinking again. As tacky and teenage-angsty as that sounds, it's true. The only reason I abstain for the most part here is because (1)I'm dieting (2)lack of funds (3)I'm 20 and not currently staying with anyone who'd be willing to buy me alcohol--generally, mothers aren't too down with that.

But when I get back to Orange in a few days, I plan on getting 5 or 6 sexily satisfying bottles of booze, sitting in our freshly painted apartment, and finally being able to sip, smoke, and eventually sleep again. I can't sleep here. I'm always so anxious and, to be honest, certain places remind me too much of certain persons. Or person. And it makes me crazy.

Maybe I'm not happy because I know I don't deserve to be happy. Maybe I'm not happy because I made somebody else so sad for so long. Maybe do I deserve to be alone. I'm good at starting relationships, but terrible (really) at maintaining them. I'm fantastic at making people feel special and stoked and lovely when things are beginning, but then I always self-sabotage and end up just making it...hard. For them, for me.

I don't do the normal, calm, "I'll call you baby and we'll almost never fight and we'll only be half-involved in each other's lives" relationship. I just don't. I don't know how to and, to be honest, I've been terribly disappointed and bored whenever I've tried. I get restless and my eyes wander because I am a moth who is so drawn to attention and "love" that I will lead myself astray anywhere simply for that happy light feeling. Well, not anywhere. But that's why I need constant affection, which is simply too much for almost anybody to deal with. The only person able to sustain that level of focus...well, I ruined things there. Why? Because I was scared. I always get scared and I run away and do something drastic. Drastic and dumb. I've heard he's said, since we broke up last year, that he "based his life around me" and so when our relationship ended, he felt like he was ruined. I was ruined, too, but it took me longer to realize it. To him, I was the most wonderful, beautiful person in the world and I could be myself (all of me) in front of him; nobody will ever think that highly of me ever again. This terrifies me.

Eric once said I was like a used car. Which was harsh but I guess he's right; I'm unreliable, unappealing because I'm not new to anybody, and I don't really offer than unique "woohoo" to anybody but those who don't have any other choice.

(This self-hating post has been brought to you by a lack of sleep for weeks, too much working out, and a diet consisting of 500 calories a day...i.e., I'm exhausted and feel horrible about myself.)

Friday, July 23, 2010

But if you wanna leave, take good care.

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my grandfather in Jersey who's extremely sick, and it sucked because I'm leaving for CA and won't be back until Christmas, and I don't know if today is the last time I'll see him. It just...blows my mind. And blows. I know it's my own fault for choosing to go to school as far away as possible (yet still be in the continental United States), for which I had my reasons, but one of the biggest downsides to that is, in the event of a family or other emergency, I can't just drive 2 hours or 6 hours or 10 hours home. I would have to pay $450 dollars to fly home, which would take at least a day of travel and lots of arrangements. It sucks and I feel so helpless.

After we drove 5.5 hours home to Syracuse, I decided to make myself feel better and went shopping with Manda--yeah yeah, retail therapy = lame but I really didn't feel like working out and I really needed new shorts. And rings...

My haul:


  • Beige shorts

  • Gray high-waisted skirt

  • 2-finger key ring, 5 colorful rings a pig connector ring (seriously cute)

  • Braided belt

  • This gorgeous "antique brooch curtain tie" (Gina you should totally get one!) for $5 that goes perfectly with the room scheme I'll be doing (Tiffany Blue + chocolate)

  • Long tank tops in black and in tan (each were $2.90, awesome!)

  • Lace back long-sleeved shirt - perfect for me! :)

  • Floral bandeau top ($2.80) which will most likely look absurd on my larger-than-this-bitch b00bz

  • Blue sweater

  • Red bodysuit ($3.50...ridiculous)
  • Silver falsies (79 cents, also ridiculous)
  • 75% off Victoria's Secret running hoodie (it was originally $40, woohoo!)

And just about all of it was on sale. I love this shit. I sort of wish I had the desire to be a stylist so I could just shop and shop and shop...

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Dandy.

10 Day Challenge Progress
Day 1 - 70 points (only 35 minutes of exercise)
Day 2 - 80 points
Day 3 - 70 points (not enough sleep)

I weigh 125 now. I feel like almost nobody has noticed that I've lost 10 lbs. (though, I don't go out quite as much when in NY) and for some reason, this upsets me. I think it upsets me partially because I can't tell I've lost weight even though I've put in so, so much effort into doing so. My upper thighs still feel too large, my back feels too soft, my arms are wobbly...yadda yadda. I don't feel right about it yet. I feel like 8-10 more and I'll be a-okay.

I just got back from the dentist. They used a TON of Nitrous Oxide and other stuff; the dentist is my next-door neighbor and always helps me feel totally non-anxious, which is really nice of him. While I was all sorts of out of it, I started realizing things I already knew but...more now. They're very obvious things, but for some reason, I just got thinking about them more than usual.

I tend to try to fix problems by fixing other, unrelated problems; it's a longtime habit and it's not a good one, but I can't help it, my logic is all cross-wired. But I realized that no matter what size I am, it won't negate the more vile things I've done. That even if I grow out my hair all long and lovely, even if I somehow obtain great skin and my teeth magically get perfect, my parents will still not really approve of me. No matter how thin or pretty or productive I ever, ever try to be (and don't worry about my ego; I promise, I don't think I am really any of those things besides maybe productive), I can't make things change.

I'm tired of trying. More tired than ever. And I'm always tired; just ask anyone who's ever been with me. I always say, "Mohammad, what are the two things that I always, always am?" and he never fails to respond with, "You're always tired and you're always right."

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Orange County: Where people are like infomercials!

I need to move up to the Bay. I don't particularly enjoy Orange County (and hell knows how I feel about Los Angeles). I've always been so nomadic, and simultaneously ashamed and proud of that quality. It's not the place where I'll accomplish the things I want to. I haven't met the sort of people I need to meet. Or, rather, I've met a few, but very few and far between. There are a few people whom are really fantastic and I actually have spoken with this summer and have future plans with, but for the most part, I'm just not happy there. Maybe I'm just bummed right now. I think my new living situation will be really nice and I am really stoked for that, and having a car (cross your fingers for me, haha) will hopefully help a lot, as well...plus, Chapman is ridiculously expensive/ridiculously frustrating.

My love life is a mess; though, of course, it's always been "complicated." Now it's just in moderate shambles...although it seems to be almost rebuilding itself these days. I've got my index overlapping my "fuck off" finger, hoping for that one.

Q: What's the difference between New York and LA?
A: In NY, people stab you from the front.
I'm just as ridiculous as plenty of southern California types, of course. I'm neurotic and brash, obsessive and frustrating, aggressive and needy. But I am also extremely honest and unable to censor myself when speaking with friends--something I probably should learn to control, but at least I don't lie. I am so frequently the person who says what her companion is whispering behind hands; I can't help it. Which is probably why I come off as a giant cunt sometimes, but nevertheless, I feel better that the people I dislike most likely know and I don't have to make the :D face even though I find them to be entitled spoiled brats or trashy selfish assholes, yadda yadda. I should probably learn to STFU, though, because if I'm saying things aloud that other people choose not to say towards the target's face, then chances are, I am the one who will appear to be a bitch. Ah, honesty...it is so frustratingly consequential. So while I'm similar to many socal type folks (and, before you say "people are like that everywhere," I'm referring more to the sheer frequency that people suck in dishonest ways in socal), I don't belong there. I belong somewhere quieter.

Over a year ago, I wrote this entry. It had goals of things I thought I'd do in the next year (so, by now). I've bolded the ones that happened + added notes in red.
Goals for the next year or so:
  1. Stop being so co-dependent on other people. Did the opposite.
  2. Write as much as possible. Hopefully, work up confidence to submit things.
  3. Stop accommodating everyone around me regardless of how it makes me feel. Opposite!
  4. See WHY? live.
  5. Successfully move into Sad/Glad House
  6. Start dreads once my hair is about two inches longer than it is now.
  7. Lose approximately 10 to 15 pounds. No, but I have lost 7 so hopefully I'm on my way to finally doing this shit.
  8. Get a damn job or at least work on enough sets that I can pay for shit with the money from them. Although I don't exactly get much from those sets...
  9. Get a Filbert. If you don't know what that is, please see this article and this picture.
  10. Have a fairly large collection of 1/2" plugs (and etc. such stuff). I actually ended up getting a medium-large collection of 5/8" because I switched my goal size!
  11. Work on confidence issues, anxiety, etc.
  12. Start side pieces, hopefully be done with at least the outlines. Got both a scarification piece and a side piece with text...so, sort of accomplished?

I'm trying to calm down. Why am I so chronically needy? I miss being needed; I miss taking care of someone. Maybe I just need a bunny rabbit...

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Your face never forget a cry.

"...then everything turned into a succession of concrete acts and proper nouns and verbs, or pages from an anatomy manual scattered like flower petals, chaotically linked."

10 Things
1) Friday night, I dreamed I was having sex. I haven't the fainted idea who I was sleeping with or what it was like, though, because all I recall is turning to my left and looking in a small round mirror. My face was completely different: I had golden blonde ringlets past my chin and my face was rounder with a receding, yet still double, chin. I recall my thoughts during the dream, which were along the lines of, "I really thought I looked different..." and then thought about photos of my real, IRL face...but in my dream, I imagined that my real, IRL face was from a dream. And my face in this dream was really quite odd and awkwardly shaped, so I was sort of sad that I looked the way I did...overall, very confusing.

2) I now weigh 128.5 or so. Fucking finally. After running most days and being pretty good with my diet, it finally paid off and I've lost about 7 pounds in the past month since I returned from school. NY = healthy for my body, haha.

3) I did Manda's makeup yesterday and then we took like 8 million photos, and it was really, really fun. I'll post a few, they're friggin cute. Some are NSFW but you won't see those, anyways.

4) While reciting a fair amount of my romantic history during a recent phone call, I realized the huge amount of Fail I have managed to accumulate over the course of the past 5 years. Jesus titty fucking Christ, I don't know how I fuck up as often as I do, but apparently, I'm excellent at it. If there's anything I'm good at, it's self-sabotage. There's a reason that I can't listen to 15% of the songs I really, really love, and it's because they remind me too much of the foolish/terrible/dumb-as-fuck things I've done and the people I've hurt or those who have hurt me. I'm excellent, eh? Certain WHY? songs are off-limits unless I want to get bummed out for hours, all Explosions in the Sky makes my stomach hurt, "Counting Backwards" practically makes me vomit even thinking about...fantastic. Seriously. High five, Sam.

4.5) I don't know how I convince people I'm sane. Or maybe they're never really convinced. I've been told by fellows in the past that that's "part of my appeal," which is fucking hilarious considering it's definitely unappealing in a hell of a lot of ways, as well. It's always going to be a pitfall. My irrationality and my impatience will always lead to rockyness, and then one day, they always wake up and say, "Is it really worth it...?" and then they wait around for a while until I turn total batshit. Some stay, some go. If they stay, I find a way to make them go (let's be honest: I probably secretly want to be alone forever). Happy ever after, baby.

5) I have been sleeping like a normal person the past two days. Shit's so whack and confusing.

6) Beck's "Lost Cause."

7) It's so pretty and rainy outside. My makeup is like Gwyneth Paltrow's in The Royal Tenenbaums. James & I drove around and got cigarettes and discussed banging people for an hour. Then we drank tea and talked about how much we want to lose weight. It was productive.

8) Sometimes (right this moment, actually) my room goes from sunny to flooded with such lovely, warm, intense sunlight. It's almost too perfect. My mom painted my room a very sunny yellow after I left for California the first time, and put up pink cute curtains. It's perfect and makes me feel better every day.

9) Nice new friends are cause for nice new feelings. I should probably throw away the stale, sad thoughts that were cluttering the insides of my head back in May. I think it's time, isn't it?

10) I feel guilty for things I haven't done, for some reason. Perpetually guilty. I think I must be terrible to be with. Mohammad has said that I'm a "muse" for people, which is funny because I think the only thing I inspire people to do is off themselves or run. I can't imagine why anybody would want to be with me. Most people come with a carry-on and a small suitcase of baggage; I bring a moving van and the boxes of ex-lovers past.

In any case, anyways, nevertheless: I'm always right.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I am more than an option.

"If you are more than the sum of your parts, stand back up." Instead, I kept walking, though I continued to lay down. I got in the car and forgot to look behind ourselves; we hit another part we left on its own, though, and that part of me squealed and cried a bit but eventually was resigned to its tire-track-ridden fate.

I want to not hate everyone I meet. Either that, or I want to not love everyone I meet.

It would appear that I am the sort of person who would have an October birthday. And late October, no less; just two days before Halloween. I used to think of Halloween each and every day from July onwards, reading books about the holiday and the costumes and the recipes for hours and hours. But my interest in the holiday isn't why I'm supposed to be an autumn child.

Sometimes I remember things that definitely happened, but I can't remember with whom. I have this memory of being somewhere about 45 minutes away. It was July two years ago, I think, and the grass was so vividly green that it almost looked plastic, but it was still so soft. There was a bridge. It was very rounded and the brook that it crossed was very shallow and clear. There were a few people on the bridge; teenagers about my age. Maybe it was more than two years ago.

I would like to be able to rely on somebody, but I've come to recognize that my standards are far too high for that. I am the common denominator in my shitty experiences with people.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Names and Words I Don't Like

For some reason, I really hate certain words. Some, I hate hearing from 99% of people because the words make me so sick to listen to or say. I also hate quite a few names, whether it's because there are far too many shitty people associated with them or just because they sound odd/unfortunate/icky to me.

Names
  • Ashley (oh my god, I cannot express to you how much I hate this name)
  • Christine
  • Sabina
  • Terri
  • Jesse
  • Luke
  • Angela
  • Derek
  • Rebecca
  • Devon
  • Aiden (seriously, hipsters and everyone else: stop naming your fucking kids Aiden; it's not that awesome)
  • Barbara
  • Elizabeth


Words
  • cookie
  • Thursday
  • food
  • other
  • meal
  • a word that rhymes with "art"
  • a word that rhymes with "shoop"
  • retard
  • chill
  • smell
  • unnecessary
  • slick
  • bush
  • bubbles


And, just to bright things up, names and words I love:
  • crisp
  • Liam
  • Chloe
  • lovely
  • kitten
  • ubiquitous
  • Wendy
  • cerulean
  • bears
  • things
  • darling
  • ginger
  • translucent
  • lush
  • spacious

Monday, May 31, 2010

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 :)

Sunday, May 30, 2010

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.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

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.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

If at first you don't succeed, run.

Judge all you want, ladies and gentlemen.
Because you never did become an astronaut.

When I'm in airports, I feel alone, and I like it most of the time. I almost instantaneously start doing different accents (usually a southern one) when wandering the airport.

Some older fellow just took a photo of me and then smiled. That's weird.

My first flight from Syracuse to Detroit, I passed out entirely. In Detroit's airport, I passed out again. On my flight from Detroit to Salt Lake City, I either slept or talked to the guy next to me who was surprisingly nice and talkative. He's moving to Sacramento. I sometimes (i.e. most of the time) wish I didn't live in Orange and instead, up in northern CA. I was jealous--though, he is moving to Sacramento and that's the Albany/Cortland sort of area of northern CA, in my opinion.

I'm now in Salt Lake City (SL,UT) and waiting for my flight to Orange, finally. Eric's picking me up, albeit reluctantly.

Nobody's at the house for the next few weeks, so I don't really know if I'm gonna want to stay there every day. Boredom sucks and I get terrified at night when nobody's home sometimes. Tommy might stay at the house for a week or so, which would alleviate my worries haha. Today, I believe I'm hanging out with Eric for a bit and then maybe Mike and Zak, depending on whether or not they end up getting back when they planned. Tomorrow's Monday, right? And then Tuesday, I have my first 5 1/2 hour class. Life is G.

Last night, I got my new tattoo with Eddie at Scarab. Then, I went to Panda's house (every time it's the last time for a while that I'll be there, I get so sad) and we hung out and watched Law & Order and talked a whole bunch. Eddie came over a little while later, we went back to my house and eventually, James and Kari ( :] ) came over. We intended on going to Weggy's really early but instead, I packed with Kari while Panda and Eddie slept and then got so tired that I needed a little nap. Panda and Eddie slept on one half of the couch and Kari and I slept on the other, and I didn't want to wake up. But eventually, I did, and the roads were so bad that I almost said "fuck it" and wanted to just pretend I had gone back to Orange but secretly stay in NY.

Tattoo:

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

No body; just a cage to hold your parts

I haven't written in a while, and with somewhat good reason. It's been such a busy past two weeks, and I sort of just want to calm down for a minute. But this weekend is the second part of "Canned Ecology" which means there won't really be calm as of yet. Maybe soon. I want to go camping in the next two weeks so fucking badly.

My birthday was last Thursday and it was really, really lovely. Heidi, Eric, and I drank a bit the night before, passed out, and when I woke up, I did some stuff for "Canned Ecology" while they prohibited me from getting out of bed as they were in the kitchen. When I came out, they had made a TON of fucking bacon and literally spelled out my name in bacon as well as made a bacon weave (!!!) and a blue omelet + toast. Shit was so bomb. Best breakfast ever.

After nomming the shit out of that bacon and essentially ingesting a heart attack, I re-blued my hair while they went to the store. After that, Heidi and I baked a ton of stuff and around some nice folks came over. It was super stellar. Ate lots of sushi, cheese, pumpkin pie, strawberry cupcakes (that Heidi decorated to look like my face, hahaha), and drank a hell of a lot of wine. Delicious. Post-dinner party, Heidi and I jetted to the radio room where we did BeezyTalk while the boys did stuff outside and Olivia hung with us. Then MoD happened, Dillon and Trevor DJ'd, shit was super fun, and we went to bed shortly after because I had set at goddamned 7 am.

All in all, very productive and lovely birthday.

The night before Halloween and Halloween both went something like: "Canned Ecology" set for 12 hours, short nap, dress up, go to costume parties. I went as a cracked out lumberjack hipster or something along those lines on the 30th-- that night, though, I was absolutely not in the mindset or mood for parties. I was pissed, miserable, and felt like shit from being awake all those hours. Halloween was better though, and we went to That 70s House for their party. It was really fun, we got pretty damn drunk, but I still managed to wake up for set the next day at fucking 7 AM.

On another note, I've been feeling slightly more antisocial than usual. And if one more person responds to that statement with, "Oh yeah, everybody burns out after freshman year for a bit, I know I did!" I will fucking scream. I know what "burning out" feels like [insert Jack Black motions a la "High Fidelity"] and I know that this isn't it. Over the past few years, I've consistently cared less and less about everyone being my friend (that's not to say I won't be friends with anybody, because I will with very little exception) and don't feel like remaining friends with anybody who doesn't put in much effort into the relationship. It just doesn't seem purposeful anymore.
"But, don't you realize that networking is what you're supposed to do in college?!"
Yes, dear imaginary questioner, I know that. And network I do. I make friendly acquaintances and friendly friends, but I do not get very close to most people because it's rarely a solid idea. I'm fine with having a few people that I can speak honestly with and share the near-full truth with.

At some point, I needed to feel great about being friends with a lot of people and rarely having anonymity, but during July 2007, I went to Ogunquit, ME and walked around for hours and hours and hours one day. Nobody knew me. Everything was free, and so was I. I turned my phone off, picked up my pen, and filled almost half a notebook between sunrise and sunset. I think that that summer was the turning point. During my senior year, I purposely tried to stop friendships I knew were one-sided or ones that bored me or ones that were with people I didn't actually enjoy being around. Once I got to college, I was pretty fucking closed off, then opened, then closed again and I don't really plan on "opening" back up any time soon. And why bother? I'm happy with the way things are in that regard, and whenever I'm trying to do too much or be around too many people, I'm fucking miserable and angry. That party on Friday just made me sickened. All I wanted to do was vom on their carpet, go home, and fall asleep. All the drunk tools trying to flirt with all the drunk girls in their pathetically trashy excuses for costumes, perusing up the skirts in the back corners of the rooms like nobody can see. Fuck that. I felt sick, and I just wanted to watch some goddamned movies with 1 to 4 people whose company I enjoy and cuddle and sleep.

Anyways, a few from the last week:
Part of a balanced breakfast!

Don't stab yourself, mister, the bacon is delicious.

Heidi, some fellah friends, and I

Purdy cute for a picture that involves me, Eric, and a piece of burned pizza.

SamCakes

That pumpkin pie was fucking badass.

Jeanie Jean lighting the candles while Mister Schwartz looks on

Blowing out candles.

Too many DJs. Ohhh.

I fully support the existence of this picture.

Excessive makeup and excessive earsies.


Creepy, creepier, & HEIDI

Quailman!

Heidi and I aka Superman and Quailman (a la "Doug")

Pascal & I


Aaand "Canned Ecology" set:
Lurking behind Dobbs

The funeral scene

Walking around the doctor's office in funeral clothes and a certain fellah's shoes because my boots were goddamned uncomfortable. And we apparently have the same size feet (I have giant feet for a girl). And they were black shoes, so regardless of style, they inherently go with a black dress [/lie].

It was fucking grandiose.

Monday, October 12, 2009

You are home.

I started this earlier, now it's later.

We all do what we need to to keep going every day, right? Heidi had a bad morning and we met at the coffee shop and talked about everything that's been right and everything that's been wrong. How the glass might be almost full but, fuck, it's still just water and it's still lukewarm and it tastes like shit. I think of everyone as a ditch. Some people are shallow ones and this is not a bad thing; in fact, it makes them easier to "fill," so to speak, and bring themselves happiness and feel complete. Then there are others that aren't, the ones that cannot be filled quickly and easily and simply. That dig themselves even deeper so there's so much space it's impossible and, even when nearly filled, ache for more.

I had a Sprite, I got her a coffee, we got teary and watched people almost have accidents at the intersection for an hour.

Tonight, tomorrow.

It's 5:22 in the morning the same way it was yesterday and I cannot sleep the same way I couldn't yesterday. I'm going to be a zombie again tomorrow (today) because I still have to finish a goddamned outline for my Creative Writing class. Oh, and fuck, I have to write/print my Composing Self paper. Goddamnit.

all theories
like cliches
shot to hell,
all these small faces
looking up
beautiful and believing;
I wish to weep
but sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe
but belief is a
graveyard.
we have narrowed it down to
the butcher knife and the
mockingbird.
wish us
luck.
"Untitled" - Bukowski

No idea why I feel so attached to that poem. I do, though, and I cannot stop reading it. For the past few years, every single time I read it, I get chills or revelations.

I don't understand the desire for autographed things, as a side note. We all end up breathing the same air; what's the difference? What's the point? [/mini-rant]

Friday, October 2, 2009

You can give birth to an excuse so easily, you'd believe it's always been there.

Everything about me is getting bigger and it's not my imagination. Hya hya, Sha-Clack-Clack, get me the fuck off this track.

I spoke Arabic in a dream last night and had at least two things in mind to say (to my dream-peers) in Farsi. Ridiculous(ly awesome).

It seems like a good half the people I know are on the decline, including myself. I wonder if it is the weather. Here, right now, it is 67 degrees Fahrenheit and the skies are clear. You will see the moon if you look. I doubt you will look minus a glance. The sky is more beautiful than we deserve. We either deserve more or less than we give ourselves credit for; I wonder if anyone ever gives themselves exactly what they need, deserve.

I feel like my back is up against a wall
and I got a mack truck two inches from my face
every cell in my body is screaming "RUN."
"Run free" my mind tells me,
but those two words cannot occupy the same space in reality.

I feel disgusting wearing the amount of makeup I do. I never used to feel this way. It's a means to an end, I suppose. I get disgusted when I see people take hours to get ready. I used to do that. I get disgusted at myself for not caring anymore. I only don't care sometimes, though. This is deeply frustrating as I feel like a hypocrite almost all of the time. I wish I was more of an asshole so this was mentally justifiable.

About two weeks ago, David asked me if my undereyes really "looked like that" or something along those lines. He was wondering if I was wearing makeup underneath them; that is how dark they are without concealer. I look so sickly and exhausted that I appear to be enhancing it. Fantasmic.

So many people seem to be downward spiraling. Looking back on "the best times" of their lives. Bullshit. Make that the future. Stop looking back so hard and still pretend to be stoic. The sunset's the wrong direction and you're always awake for it, though we all must admit: it's pretty damn incredible. But you are not your past, your future is not only made up of the "good times" you've had, stop focusing on the past. Be grateful but go on. Do your best work. Get closer to your old friends. Make new ones, too. Stop thinking about what you used to look like. Asterisk. Stop writing your autobiography before you're dead and live it first. This is not me trying to sound poetic or lecture anybody. I'm just rambling, as always. Goodnight.




Delam barat kheyli tang shodeh.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Reposting out of responsibility.

As should you.


"The following is an account from and anonymous Pitt student who attended the protest on Schenley Plaza last night Friday September 25th. The gathering, a peaceful crowd of a few hundred students, media, and community members was held in response to the violence perpetrated against Pitt student activists and Pitt students the preceding Thursday by the police. For more information, pictures, and video about the events of Thursday September 24th, visit the Pittsburgh Independent Media website.

Violence perpetrated against student organizers and uninvolved students is not a singular event or a symptom of increased police presence due to an event like the G20. Police violence occurs in many communities across the country and throughout the world every day. It is a sign of the privilege of the educated class that the media and community pay attention and express their outrage about our being abused when low income communities, people of color, and other marginalized groups with less privilege are attacked or harassed everyday. The police state is not just this week, it is all the time, and students need to start looking around and raising your voices everyday to protest the violence of the state.

Students at other universities: Please, forward this to your friends, campus organizations, campus newspapers, administrators, and everyone you know because if we don’t stand together in solidarity, your school could be next. Demand that administrators at your school accept responsibility for the actions of police on your campus. Demand that police on your city and campus be held accountable for all the violence the perpetrate. Demand that you and your classmates not be relegated to the conditions of a product for sale in the Industrial Education Complex. Make demands, because your campus is your home, your community, and your responsibility.

In solidarity,
Sheila Hubbard
Go Pitt

“WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY NIGHT?
A Firsthand Account by a Pitt student

By 10:00, a group of a few hundred people had formed and the perimeter stretched to 3 sides and started getting thicker. Helicopters were overhead, and someone said they’d heard snipers were on the Hillman Library. Riot police outnumbered protesters at least 5 to 1 at this point, and they looked like they didn’t know what to do. Groups of people sat playing Duck Duck Goose and laughing or, like us, stood around tensely waiting for something to happen.

Eventually, the riot police surrounded the plaza. Local filmmakers roved around interviewing people. Some protesters shouted into megaphones, trying to engage the cops in a dialogue and when that didn’t work, mocking them. The police started closing in on us, forcing us into a corner and out of the plaza - we ended up with them in a perimeter facing an empty lawn. They formed a blockade between us and Bigelow Boulevard - at this point we were on Forbes Avenue in front of the Cathedral lawn. We were also blocked at Bellefield, and were essentially trapped on the street. People started panicking and running at this point. As the police moved in, we backed up onto the Cathedral lawn. There were about 40 of us backed into a corner.

We headed up towards Fifth Avenue on the opposite side of the Cathedral, but the police there told us to go back the way we came, grabbing us by our shoulders and pushing us back. When we expressed confusion, they threw a canister of tear gas at us so we backed up quickly. They started closing in on us on the lawn, beating their shields with their batons in unison. Even though we asked over and over which way they wanted us to go, because we wanted to leave peacefully, they refused to answer.

Eventually they ordered all 40 of us to lay face down on the ground. They told us we would all be taken into custody, and the officers came around using zip ties to handcuff everyone. We were separated and marched to a series of police cars and vans along Fifth Avenue. Their system there was incredibly disorganized and the officers were crude. “You know, I’m kind of disappointed,” one remarked. “I was hoping I would get to beat you guys down, but you guys were pretty peaceful.” Eventually, they searched and confiscated our belongings and took down all our information - most of us were being charged with failure to disperse - and tossed us all in some vans to wait. After a while, they pushed us up against the side of a bigger bus, patted us down, and loaded us onto the buses.

Apparently there were too many of us to process properly at the jail, so we ended up driving to SCI Pittsburgh. We sat outside the penitentiary for maybe half an hour or an hour. Outside, we could see dozens of National Guard and riot police officers swarming around. Someone noticed that somebody else’s hands were turning blue from the zip ties, so after a few attempts we got hold of the officer in front, who told him to “wiggle them around” and that there wasn’t anything else to do for now. Several people requested to use the bathroom, which was ignored. Eventually, they started letting us out one at a time.

The one who took me into custody put real handcuffs on me, cut off my zip tie cuffs, and patted me down. When she brought me inside, there were temporary partitions set up everywhere. I had my picture taken and was fingerprinted, then taken to wait to give my medical information, “in case you go to prison.” Afterward we were put in chairs and told to sit quietly, with National Guard guys watching us. One of them seemed slightly sympathetic; he made sure we all got water and food. “Please don’t talk,” he told us, “when you talk one of us has to come over here, and that means that it slows down the process.” When we asked where we were going, he told us, “I don’t know where you’re going, or whether you’ll be charged. For now, you’re just waiting till they decide what they’re going to do with you.” So we waited. And waited. Aaaand waited.

More people kept coming in, and we discreetly asked them what had happened. One guy was shirtless with welts all over his back; after seeing the protest on the news, he’d ridden his bike into Oakland. When he got there, police told him to turn around. He did, and they shot what he assumed was paintball guns full of pepper at his back. He was covered in huge welts and shell-shocked. He refused medical attention from the police and sat staring blankly at the wall. The guy sitting next to me had been walking home, and they’d snatched him off the street.

Eventually they started calling names. They brought us out into the courtyard, where we sat and could talk quietly. We overheard the officers saying that we’d all be released. Each of us had a police officer on our arm, and we went in batches of 4 or 5. They walked us over to a van, still cuffed, and we waited to reclaim our stuff. The cops walking us out harassed us about protesting, to which we responded less than enthusiastically. When we got our stuff, we were told not to go through it until we were off the premises, and escorted to the sidewalk in front of the police station. We were uncuffed and told to leave, and to “stay in groups, this isn‘t a nice part of town.” We were all miles away from home and the place we were arrested.

Welcome to surreality.

Questions? Comments? Email pittprotest@gmail.com
If you have police harassment or repression to report, call the ACLU G20 hotline : (412) 562-5015