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.

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

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."

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...

This is what they mean when they say "Too little too late."

I am a novelty. Or, at the least and out of necessity, a nomad.

I'm trying so hard to be healthy. I hate the fact that I yo-yo diet and go from eating 500 calories a day to 2000 occasionally, back and forth over and over. It's not good for me but it's a habit I've had for years. Since the beginning of the summer, I've gradually been able to settle on approximately 900 to 1200 calories a day (now leaning more to 1200 each day, so woohoo). I'm not 127.5 lbs. so that's swell, and I've run 11 miles in the past two days (+ I'm about to go running again in a moment).

James mentioned that he thinks he might have BDD (info), which causes a person to think they look quite differently than the do. He, for example, is 5'10" and 149 lbs., quite thin, but sees himself larger than he is. Sometimes, I'm confused whether or not I do as well because once in a while, I'll think I'm on the thinner side (like, once every few weeks) while most days, I feel like I'm quite huge. When I look in a mirror, I see wide arms, awkward breasts, an undefined jawline, bushy hair, bad teeth, love handles, and terribly large upper thighs. I just want to not see that anymore, and the only way I won't see that any longer is if I lose a bit of weight. Goddamnit, I totally didn't want to turn this into a weight rant. But here I am, ranting. Surprise.

Something I've always found funny is that when people try to insult me, they always think they're telling me something I don't know. I am self-absorbed, I am somewhat attention-starved, I am a bit on the chubbier side. I am totally willing to admit all of these things. Nobody recently has said them, but I recently saw somebody who had said all those things way back in high school-era and I sort of just giggled, because unless somebody's going to send me on some revelation, I'll probably never go particularly wild realizing something new. Lo siento; it's almost impossible to insult somebody who can do it far better than you're possibly capable of.

Yadda yadda. I need to go running. Peace out.

Unique New York

Significant things that happen (whether definite or possible) prior to 2011:

• I turn 21 on October the 29th. I would love to go to Vegas but I sort of doubt this (though it does fall on a Friday...), so maybe I'll just do the Paul's-District-whatever thing, drink 'til I'm sick, and then have a dinner party the next night. Either way.
• I move into a new apartment with new people.
• I will [hopefully] be down to 118 or so in regards to my weight.

This week has been more uncomfortable than usual. I sleep for 8-9 hours and I wake up and feel like it's been days since I rested. When I sleep 4 hours a night, I feel tired the next day but at least I get shit done with my extra awake time. Needless, restless sleep.

I am never able to be happy. Why? Mostly because I'm impatient. Impatient people are never happy. I drive so slowly, though, because I don't want to die, but I still wish everything around me would move a little faster. I still wish everyone near me would move closer so I don't have to; I wish everyone would take the chances that I don't want to.

I simultaneously find everyone unattractive and perfect.

Last night, I dreamed so many things that it frightens me; my head is so fucking confusing sometimes. Here's the ones I can remember at the moment.

Dreams:

• A man's wife had had a child while he was in prison. The baby's name started with an S. It was shot in retaliation for him doing something while in jail. He then had a son after getting out of jail. First he tried to be normal and well-adjusted. Then he went crazy, I think, and went after the people who killed his daughter.
• I was in a yellow doctor's office. Three people had come with me, but I can't remember who besides my mother. The other two left the room and she stayed while the doctor did tests on me. I don't know what they were testing besides if they were trying to see if I was crazy or not. I overheard the doctor say something like, "It's true: if things keep going the way they are, the entire state of Rhode Island will be completely deserted." So, they were trying to find people to program and send there, or something like that. I recall thinking about real estate as soon as she said that. The tests made my body convulse and they had strapped me to the (green?) table. I was screaming. My mom was only mildly alarmed but I didn't want her to stop them. Later, I could see Kareem Sayid (yes, from Oz) in the middle of prayer over a child on a (yellow?) patient's bed/table, but on a boat, and a few doctors demanded of him (at gunpoint, no less) that test the child.
• Heidi and I were about to go to a party. I hadn't seen her in two months and things were moderately normal. It was a broken down house. The tablecloths were mostly sprayed newspaper. I started to wonder and almost asked what's going on with her (ahem) and then I just decided to leave; it wasn't worth it.
• I was pregnant and living with a boyfriend. We had a room similar to my parents' but it was in a very broken down old building, though our room was okay. I had thought I was painting it Tiffany's Blue (like I will actually paint my new apartment IRL!) but it came out once I painted it like an odd green. It seemed I had only painted the wall the head of the bed was against and right underneath it, though I debated painting the wood parts of the bed. My baby-daddy boyfriend got all upset at the fact that it was green, yelling: "My son is going to sleep in here; how the fuck are you gonna paint it green?" I tried to explain and started borderline crying.
• There was a gang truce going on between the Latinos and the Irish (can you tell that I've been really into Oz lately...?). Somebody wanted to start shit and started running around, telling the Latinos that the Irish were going to attack and somebody warned the Irish (who were, oddly enough, in the middle of a strip poker game in a basement and the only naked people were three girls about my age). I can't recall anything after that.

There were others, but I can't recall them anymore.

Some photos from most recent to least. I'll post the ones from this 4th of July weekend tomorrow.

James and I at Onondaga Lake

Sometimes the sky is extra amazing.

I'm in love with this little dress thing.

Dress - H&M, $15

Purse - H&M, $5

Hat - H&M, $5

5/8" Ebony shields (in my ears) - GT, $25

Shoes - My mother's

I took this of James when we visited LHS

Bad actors with bad habits

My biffle Manda and I on her bed

She got a new piercing! It's a lovely surface bar

from Scarab Body Arts in Syracuse, NY.

FRENCH.

Manda being beautiful.

I make delicious cake (it was a 2 layer strawberry

cake with fresh strawberries inside the cake

along with fluffy chocolate buttercream frosting,

in case you were wondering).

Toby, me, Ryan after Ichibans + N64 a few weeks ago.

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.

Dating is never perfect, but:

I was recently asked what my idea of the "perfect date" was. A perfect date is one that doesn't really exist because it doesn't feel like you're on a date; it feels like you were always supposed to be there and that you've known one another for decades already. Or maybe a perfect date is one where you're complete strangers and completely comfortable with remaining that way for as long as you both shall live. I've never dated a boy who took me on dates after we began seeing each other. Actually, that's incorrect; David used to take me on dates fairly frequently and they were always crazy/fantastic places like surprise theme parks or ghost towns in the desertt. But that is the exception; for the most part, I lean towards "unconventional dating" types, which generally are people who are entirely dating-conventional in regards to the age group they're in.

A perfect date, it regards to a person, is...

-Somebody who doesn't try to fight your demons (unless you ask them to help you); they embrace them, because they're part of you.
-Somebody who never comments on much I eat or don't eat.
-Somebody who takes my romantic efforts seriously rather than passively, somebody who remembers details. Perhaps a bit romantic, as well.
-A cheap drinker who has occasional bouts of non-cheap alcohol favoring.
-A person who doesn't usually care about how they dress but if we are to be on a date (whether it's on a lawn, on the beach, or in a restaurant), dresses slightly nicer than usual; somebody who does something to just make the other person smile.
-Talented; I can't say I've ever once been attracted to somebody who wasn't very talented. I've (somewhat unfortunately) overlooked poor qualities about a person purely because he was extremely good at what he did. Never gonna make that mistake again.
-Somebody who will play the cloud game with me.
-Somebody who holds hands in public but never grabs anything.
-Somebody who understands my baggage and drags around equally as much; maybe we'll free each other (but probably not; it's okay, though).
-Preferably somebody who is excellent at oral and isn't selfish about sex; I'm awesome and they should be, too.
-Likes to dance.
-Accepts compliments well.
-A heavy sleeper.
-A good lay. An even better cuddler.
-Not gay.*

Does romance die for you when the people that kept you romantic die from you?

*I only say "not gay" because I've dated briefly or longer-than-briefly at least four fellows who came out during or after seeing me.

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.

Doo doo, doo doo.

First of all, I strongly recommend you read Gina's latest entry. I giggled up a goddamned storm.

Secondly, I've been thinking about the future a lot (because what else is there to imagine when things are the way they are at the moment?), and I think a fair amount about what raising kids will belile.I think about having kids someday, sometimes I think about how I'll never fool them into believing Christopher Columbus was a good person. How I'll never let them think America was populated in a kind, nurturing, non-violent way. I'll tell them about what was done to the Native Americans and to slaves and to immigrants, and what's still fucked up about the world. I won't tell them our government is perfect or that it's the best kind there is. I'll always tell the truth and give my honest opinion when it comes to information because it's irresponsible not to.

I'll never buy meat or dairy sourced from factory farms, and someday, I'll give them the choice of being vegetarian. I won't let them drink coffee. I will never let them feel alone; if I have a daughter, and if/when middle school sucks for her, I will make sure she stays strong but never force her to go. I'll try not to yell. I will change if I have to, for their sakes. I'll never try to live vicariously through them, ever, and never force them to do something simply because they're good even if they don't like the activity. I will do my very, very best to never say anything I don't mean in arguments. And I will never put my burdens and bitterness on or towards them. We will have a dog, a cat, and cows, and I'll always teach them how important animals' rights are. If their father is, in any way, a negative influence on their lives, it'll be a "one strike and goodbye" policy, because that is how shit should be. They will always come first.

Thirdly, I have been painting a lot lately. Almost non-stop. I started about a week ago and I can't stop; I love doing it so much. I also bought some new and colorful yarn so I can start knitting again. :)

And fourth, my dream on Wednesday night: I was dating Simon Adebisi (for those of you who don't watch Oz, he is played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje who also plays Mr. Eko on Lost). We boned in a sickeningly yellow room, then I played a soccer game with bare feet in my bright red fluffy bathrobe. He cheered me on. It was lovely o' him.


And my dream last night: James and I were driving in a cul-de-sac and he was drunk. He said he would never drink again but he kept driving. It was night outside. Later, Manda and I were with Eddie in a little museum-house. It had slanty ceilings and I was so confused as to where everything was. Manda and Eddie wanted to continue to a different room while I studied some drawings. There was one that was a blue ship on white paper that was angled oddly. I tried to take a photo of it on my phone but I couldn't for some reason. The other drawing was on rectangular (longer width, shorter length) yellow construction paper. It was an orange--with white streaks--furry creature with green eyes in the middle (maybe slightly right of middle) of the page. Then on the far right, almost walking off the page, the outline and slight details of an alien with a large rounded head facing the right side, off-page. I remember drawing his eyes Maybe laughing. He looked like the Futurama tv anchor guy.
There was also a different dream after (or maybe before) where I was driving down this street (that was strikingly similar to James' mom's street in Syracuse towards the ghetto Wegmans on the West Side) but it was day time. I can't remember the situation but I was driving with somebody and I don't think I could drive straight. It was definitely weird though. What was I trying to find?

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Manda and I have watched Tim:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The facial tattoos!

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

Manda and I!

Timmayyy and I.

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

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

Ryan and I circa late 2007/early 2008.

Still one of my all-time favorites of Manda.

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