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.

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.

I'm just a moth who wants to share your light.

I wish I were more quirky, less crazy.

In all seriousness, though, I can be so remarkably irrational. And my overall worst quality is probably my impulsiveness, primarily stemming from by my incredible lack of patience. I also need to stop drinking so much. Jesus Christ.

Brief updates, photos included:

I did makeup for a KTLA morning special segment about Alex's Lemonade Stand for National Lemonade Day. It was mega-fun.

Last weekend, I went with Livvy to her family's vacation house on Canyon Lake. Super gorgeous. Went waterboarding for the first time. Fucking fun. I stood up and stayed up on my 5th or so attempt, which they said was pretty solid. Sweeeeet. Lost a high nostril screw in the process, though (what a funny statement).

Sunday night, we had our housewarming party. It was stellar minus my inability to stop drinking. Drank (estimated) a bottle of champagne, whiskey & something, cranberry juice (lite) & vodka, orange juice & champagne in addition to the bottle, aaaand probably other shit. Probably. Wtf. I got so sick and so Livvy & Cam took care of me while I breffed. I blacked out. I don't black out. I rarely, rarely black out completely. It was 11:30 and suddenly it was 2:30 in the morning. Wtf. Nevertheless, in those three hours, I'm told I mostly just giggled, yelled, bitched, and vomited. Stellar, Sam. Nice going, dog. Nevertheless, Gina was a great hostess and it was a success.

Also, prior to the party, I put up some ads from the most recent Vogue and a few from Vanity Fair on the wall.

Reuben took some photos of me last week and I really dig them. They're super fun and were really sweet of him to take.

Also, my dad's visiting and it's been really nice having him here. He is super into eating nice food at good restaurants, so yesterday we got awesome Mexican food at Ricardo's and today we ate at the Filling Station, which was delicious. Tonight, however, was the most awesome. My dad, myself, and Gina drove to Newport and ate at this remarkably fancy restaurant overlooking the water. Dinner included:

• Escargot - It was Gina's first time eating it, and they were delicious.
• Clams Cassino
• Alaskan lobster tail - Both Gina and I got this, and it was amaaazing. Beautiful presentation and everything was so perfectly light and fresh and fantastic. I know very little about cooking but I do know that that was delicious.
  
• Chilean sea bass - We're Chilean (on my dad's side) and he really digs this particular dish, but it's difficult to find so he leapt at the chance to get it. I had a bite, and the texture was super buttery-smooth but still light.

Then, we peaced out and instead of pay $20 for each dessert we'd get there, we went to a gelato place down the street and got $3 fantastic gelato. My dad got vanilla and Gina & I (following suit from dinner) each got half raspberry and half Oreo. So fucking tasty. We sang "Wild World" by Cat Stevens on the way home, which was mega rad.

Tomorrow, my dad and I are having dinner with Eric, which should be nice. And on Thursday, we're going with Gina to Beverly Hills to go shopping. Life is G. This is a good Last Week Prior To Classes Starting.

Oh, and the biggest news (because the best news = that I'm seeing my papa who I never ever see!) is that I finally have a car!!! It's so beautiful. So beautiful, omg. I'm in love. It's a 2010 Toyota Corolla S (I would've just gone with the regular one but since I'm leasing it, it's nearly the same price for the Sport version). I love it. I have named her Joan, after Joan Holloway in Mad Men. Tada:
My dad + Joan

Yayyyy! :D

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.)

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.

You're right: I don't remember.

Sometimes I am capable of truly terrible things.

Sometimes, however, it makes me ache just to witness anybody else feel sad. Actually, this is most of the time. If I see somebody, whether I care about them or not, or hear about a person or read about a person being sad or hurt, I start crying and feel sick. Too much empathy is almost as bad as a lack thereof, but I suppose I'll take it over the latter.

Sometimes I am rational. Typically, I am not, but somehow things tend to work I out when I just assume what anybody else would do and do it, so at the very least, I am rational enough to understand what normal people would want to do.

Sometimes I like consistency. But most of the time, I refuse to watch the same movie twice (there are a few exceptions) or the same episode twice because surprise is so integral for me. This may be an allegory for people.

Sometimes the air gets too heavy and I can't breathe. Actually, this is frequently. It's usually too tight to fit into my lungs.

Sometimes it's okay to live out of a suitcase. Sometimes that feels good.

Sometimes I need to be held every night because if I have nobody's hair to stroke but my own, it's the same feeling of not eating for 24 hours.

Sometimes I need to be a complete recluse for 5 days straight to understand if/why I need other people.

Sometimes the mail doesn't come and I start crying hysterically. This is a lie. No it's not.

Sometimes I feel guilty for going to California.

Then, sometimes, I realize that I needed to leave and that worrying constantly about how my decisions will be viewed by other people, as opposed to thinking about the good that those decisions will do me, is a bad idea.

Sometimes I dream I am dying and then wake up confused, having already accepted that I am dead.

Sometimes my hands and mouth decide to go on off without my common sense and eat everything in sight (you thought that was going somewhere else, eh?). Then I feel sickened.

Sometimes I need to not eat for a few days to understand why I need to eat.

Sometimes I don't know how to function without flirting. Sometimes I don't understand why people think I am flirting. Sometimes I'm pretty sure I am terrible at knowing what I'm saying and how I'm coming off and that gets me into all sorts of trouble.

Sometimes I write things I am not thinking and then I confuse myself by wondering what I'm thinking. That just happened.

Sometimes I should really stop being there for people when people sort of suck at doing the same back. I can be very self-centered, but then...

Sometimes I think I should probably run away from everyone, change my name, and see what happens for at least a year.

Sometimes I am almost certain that I am not really a person.

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.

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.

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:

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.

Sick.

God bless you, Roman Polanski, for bringing out the true nature of your cinema peers. If I ever need to see who has an ounce of morality and conscience in their bodies in Hollywood, I need only look at their positions on this case. If they forgave you, I know they have completely lost any sense of value in human life.

Defenders of Polanski's acquittal for the rape of a 13-year-old girl

Ah, I get it:

• Giving a "great contribution to the world of cinema" makes it alright to commit the rape of a child.
• Simply being forced to avoid making movies in Hollywood means he's "atoned" for his actions.
• Only commiting ONE rape means that it's alright because he's "functioned in the world without any further problems of that nature after that."
  

Wait...really?
Just because someone is a fascinating person with a larger-than-life resume who has avoided a failed legal system does not mean he can erase the past.

Seriously, a time comes when you have to comprehend that a person, regardless of his or her achievements, is still a person. Our culture adores watching pedophiles and rapists go away (just check out the ratings of Law & Order: SVU), yet only if they are the creepy fellow down the block or somebody not from our town. Heaven fucking forbid that it is a celebrity who has achieved powerful things through art. I love his films, I will not deny that. But I refuse to look past the fact that he drugged and orally, anally, and vaginally penetrated another human being (and a 13-year-old one, at that). And even fucking Whoopi damn Goldberg thinks that it's not "rape-rape" so it's a-okay! Ah, you made great movies, feel free to pillage as you please? Since when did art trump the importance of human life?

A decision to acquit would be a message through a megaphone to all monetarily and fame-wise successful celebrities of the world: IF YOU CHOOSE TO DO SOMETHING TERRIBLE, YOU ARE FORGIVEN PROVIDED YOU HAVE DONE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL. This, as we all know, is injustice. I don't care if somebody finds fucking Eden on Earth; it wouldn't make me believe they are worthy of forgiveness if they raped somebody in the process. So fuck you, Hollywood. You are more cruel and disgusting than ever before.

Well, fuck. Rapists and pedophiles of the world, get your cameras ready, make a movie, and all will be forgiven!

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”

Watch the moon and hope the damn thing crumbles.

Writer's block is possibly one of the most frustrating things your mind can do to you. Some days, I breathe Times New Roman and think in size 12, and then there are nights like tonight when I have a specific thing I need to write but can't force the words to come out. It's absurd.

My feet are dirty and so they're hanging off the side of the bed because I hate having anything on my sheets that's unclean.

Prompts can suck my dick, to put it blatantly. To put it more politely, prompts are irritating and make it quite a bit tedious to write as opposed to being a positive experience.

Yadda yadda. Vomit word matter. Goodnight, sir.

Too late.

It is 74 degrees outside now, according to weather.com, but I'm willing to bet it's 80+ in my room at the moment. FUUU-. Today, despite being my worst day of the school week (Intro to Creative Writing 1-2:15, Composing Self 2:30-3:45, Beauty of Physics 4-5:15, Social Problems 7-9:50 and then Chappy Radio meeting), went fairly well. I'm tired, sure, but I feel like it's easier to "watch what I eat" and "exercise more" when I live fifteen minutes walking from campus (so it's not close enough to actually want to drive, not that I even have a car, but I could go in with Rae/Anna) and don't have time to eat much.

Lots of Odd Nosdam, Rusko, and M83 today. Astronautalis and Water Bears have been up there lately, too. Speaking of music, a list of things I'm doing this weekend:

• Having Chelsea over! I'm so excited to hang out with her and her boyfriend for a few days.
• Orange International Street Fair! Food + beer + lots of people = always awesome, minus the "lots of people" part. :)
• Going to the Saloon's party on Saturday as well as the "Octopus Party" that Daniel, Tyler, and somebody else (I think) are having that night.
• Going into the desert with Chelsea and her fellah as well as maybe Heidi or somebody, exploring, hiking, drinking, and taking pretty pictures.
• Going up to LA on Sunday with Wes to go to Amoeba and a few other places. It'll be a nice quiet day away from Orange.
  
• Cleaning the house a hell of a lot, particularly my floor and the kitchen floor.
  

Problem: Heat
Solution: Smoke menthols in the pool (while listening to Louis Armstrong).
????
PROFIT!

This is Chelsea! She's super fantastic, gawgeous, and a nice gal.
I'm stoked to introduce her around and such; I believe she's coming to the Saloon!

Heidi and I on one of the 4092384 100+ degree days.


Getting drunk with Greg at the Syc + Shaf house nearby, y/y?

I want to goddamned sleep. Why is this so difficult given how insanely tired I am? I take sleep medication- I get drowsy the next day and not even while I'm trying to sleep. I try relaxing all of my muscles- I feel sweaty and sickened. I try to just lay back for a while and close my eyes like a normal person usually does- I get cramps, I feel like punching my ovaries, and I get onto the goddamned internet like it'll somehow assist.

And carefully.

Note: There's no reason for you to read this. So don't. I'm merely putting it out here for the hell of it. Ignore this unless you're oddly interested or really goddamned bored.

You know how many (I would go so far as to say "most") people wonder if their own thoughts and emotions are "normal," so to speak? I occasionally find myself pondering whether or not I am in the same general realm of thought as everybody else. Not that there's some sort of hierarchy; I merely mean that I wonder if I possess the same capacity levels as the general mean of the world. I say "the mean" because there really is no known "mode," though this is all just myself rambling so goddamned ignore it if you're rolling your eyes at this point.

The things I've noticed about my own personality and past that appear to be different than most people I've met are as follows (I'll elaborate in a minute):

1. I cannot remember entire chunks of my childhood.
2. I "jump" into reality every so often and remember who I am.
   
3. My phobias and compulsions control quite a bit of the way I behave to a grossly high degree, and have since I was a small child.
4. My logic and emotions are almost too deeply entangled.
   
5. I have an absurd amount of empathy.

Those, in short, aren't what makes me a "unique person," for we are all unique people - genetics and differences in experiences, upbringings, etc. are what makes us each a "unique person." These are what make me feel outside of my own body and out of control of my own decisions, though.

One: I cannot remember entire chunks of my childhood.
I have zero idea as to why this happens. It's not something I realized until fairly recently. I was trying to think of things from my childhood like teachers and friends but I literally cannot, for the life of me, remember almost anything unless it's a story somebody else recanted to me or it was a very, very large event. Pre-8th grade, I hardly remember a fucking thing and I have a good idea as to why this is, why everything before I hit 14 was blasted away for the most part, but it still makes me so uncomfortable.

Two: I "jump" into reality every so often and remember who I am.
I've discussed this previously in length, but in short, I randomly "fall" back into my own body and suddenly realize where I am, who I'm with, and who I am. There are weeks when I'll go without having these sort of oddities, but for a short while, it'll happen frequently and it freaks me out. It's like watching a movie and suspending your own disbelief, then suddenly having someone snap in your face.

Suddenly things will get entirely too "realistic" out of the blue (the situation varies completely: I could be doing laundry or I could be at a party or I could be in the car and it'll happen) and I'll lose all of my emotion. I will literally be entirely unable to feel any sort of compassion or interest in everyone around me. Usually, it goes away within a short period of time. Occasionally, it'll happen while I'm crying and suddenly, I'll have zero desire to keep crying even if it does continue and the only thing in my head is to concentrate on not making a peculiar face while doing so. A few times, though, there have been long stretches of at least a week where I feel this way. Once, in the summer of 2006, it was about a week and a half before I could even get out of bed; there was no desire to move or eat or speak. I wasn't depressed; I was merely emotionless and undriven to do anything. Everytime I thought of contact with most people, I immediately visualized a wall between myself and them, and it wouldn't mentally budge. I snapped out of it, and fuck, I felt amazing but I always dread if it'll happen again.

Three: My phobias and compulsions control quite a bit of the way I behave to a grossly high degree, and have since I was a small child.
I don't like speaking about my specific phobias because there's at least one that upsets me to a huge degree to even think about. However, in regards to the compulsions, I do have OCPD yet in odd manners: I'm not super neat but things HAVE to have a specific order. I have to do certain things or I'll be really irritated and frustrated and anxious. It's so stupid because it's definitely a mind over matter thing, but the only time I can recall before the number 3 dictated most of my actions was...when the number 4 dictated most of my actions (up until around 9, I think...definitely before I was a teenager). TL;DR (as is the rest of this shit),

Four: My logic and emotions are almost too deeply entangled.
Meh, this one is definitely not that different than many people. I'm sure I come off as immensely emotional, possibly worse, but I am completely aware of this and choose to still act the way I act because I know that that's merely my personality and I can't control the fact that I feel a hell of a lot. I let it control my actions, though, to a too-high degree. I won't go into detail further, but in all honesty, this is something I would love to work on (though I don't think I would be doing anything besides numbing them, which is an idiotic thing to do).

People I've been with in relationships always describe me as "intense." There's a reason why they used to escalate so quickly. I am a passionate person, and people are often drawn to that for a while before being completely deterred in preference for a more logically sound person. This is not something I hold against them. They wind up visiting again at some point, anyways, for some reason, though most aren't people I'd like to see again.

Five: I have an absurd amount of empathy.
There's a reason I suck at confrontation, and it's not because I'm bad at arguing (on the contrary: quite a few teachers/professors in the past have commented that that's probably one of my strongest points personality-wise, haha). I'm just terrible at hurting other people. Not only do I hate doing it, but in addition, I know that if I hurt somebody else I'll literally feel physical pain in my stomach and head as well as a spatter of other feelings. When I see a kid get made fun of, I literally get so sad I'm sick. I most likely wouldn't care nearly as much if somebody was saying terrible things about me across a room; I usually get more offended if they're saying things about the people I'm with, as well. The only time I got in a physical fight during school was when a boy named Patrick kept spewing out homophobic shit at people in our class, including myself but definitely not the focus, and I eventually just pounded him in the face and groin. If he had only said things about me, I may've been offended and bummed out, but probably would not have made him cry.

I hate watching other people in pain, even the smallest bit of upset feelings, whether or not I care a lot about them. I used to have nightmares as a kid about other people getting hurt, not typically myself. It upset me more that way, for some reason. I recently hurt somebody I care very much about and I am beating myself up about it to a fucking high degree. Gah.


So, anyways, considering nobody'll read all of that, I may've just as well as written an essay on Goatse. Whatever, I feel a bit better now that it's all written out. Silly Sam.

Yo yo, bye bye.

So in my hurry to put up photos of those dresses, I neglected to show some lovely pictures of last weekend! Specifically, Friday. I'll update about the 4th later.

But before that, I should note a few things that I've been thinking about lately:

• Indifference is cruel. Dare I say...cowardly?
  
• Loyalty is rare (but luckily I've found it in a few folks).
• Love is objective.

These are all things I already knew, but have been going through my head more than usual as of late.

I had brunch with Richard this morning, then an interview at Barnes & Nobles. Brunch was nice; we went to the B'ville Diner and talked a bunch. It was really great to catch up with somebody I hadn't seen since 2007ish despite Richard picking me up a couple times a week for school all through my sophomore year. He graduated with David ('06) and I don't see many people from that class anymore, so it was nice to see him. My interview went extremely well, I think. I was all nervous about my piercings showing, but the manager walked up and had an eyebrow ring, so I instantly felt less mixed feelings (if I had to take my nostril ones out to work, that'd instantly cut $50 from my earnings because I'd get them redone as soon as I wasn't working, haha). She liked me, I think/hope, and seemed very nice and like a strong manager, so hopefully I'll get the job. Discounted food/fraps, y/y?


Manda says I look Russian here; I agree.


Back row: Me, Toby, Kevin, Ryan, Papa Harvey
Front: Ron, Manda, Tom


Manda and I got fans as a present from Papa Harvey :D


Ryan on my pained back.


Toby looking fuckin' thrilled with Tom on his shoulder.


Ronnie and I.


Holy shit Eddie's cat.