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| OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!
What on earth is going on? | |
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| So the girl who's going to yale commented on my facebook all "Remember when I used to call you a waste of a person?....that sounds so mean now."
IT ALWAYS DID.
Also there's someone who looks just like me at yale. "You should come, because then.."
Ajkgdjkfjkdfjfhbjhjgfj. I AM A FUCKING DROP OUT WHO GOES TO FUCKING COMMUNITY COLLEGE WHO TOTALLY BOMBED A SEMESTER WE DO NOT GO TO YALE. STOP RUBBING SALT IN THE WOUND WHY DON'T YOU? (Oh God. I hate that phrase..)
And do I remember when you used to call me a waste of a person? Of course I do. (My God. Don't you have to be SMART to go to Yale?) You know what? YES. YES. I don't live up to my potential. I'm a waste of a person. But you got what you always wanted. I guess stressing over the SATs in 7th grade worked well for you.
I am not having a good night.
I'm teetering on exploding. I should go to bed but lately I can't sleep without getting myself calmed down and I don't like the feeling. (I need my emotions to not be dependant on people/things. It feels too much like "I need to do this to feel better") I'm teetering on exploding, I'm just not having a good night. I may've asked "How much of a bitch do I have to be to get you to hate me?". It's possible. I might have 500words to bullshit. And I have to do a lot of reading (not a lot. But a lot for my dumbass CC self.), and I'm going to fail my exam on monday. I may've stared at her name for 2 hrs. I may've eaten entirely too much. (I hate myself.) I definitely ate too much and I hate myself for it and really I just need to drop fifty or maybe 80 pounds and then I'll be so much better. I might be veryfuckingtense. I just..... I'm bringing this all upon myself and it's bullshit and tommorow I'll be productive, maybe.
(What I remember more than her calling me a 'waste of a person': How Sarah would always say I'd end up a dropout. AREN'T SELF FULFILLING PROPHECIES GREAT???)
I'm not liking this mood and I would like it to go away. (I wish it worked like that.)
I HATE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH. I am such a fucking failure and I don't know. My mind is EATING ME. I don't even know how to describe it/what that means but it feels right.
And I accidentally posted this to a community. WTF? Ooops. Deleted. I suck. | |
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| Existentialism paper: IN. Glück essay: DONE. Poetry portfolio, all parts: DONE. This consists of twenty-three poems, a process letter, a poetics statement, and a critical essay on trends in 21st century poetry. It also consists of twenty-three sheets of paper, double-sided. It's gigantic. I don't think a staple will hold it. BREAKING NEWS: the Hoyme printer now has a duplexer and it is a beautiful thing. After tomorrow, I can breathe again for a moment before I start studying for existentialism and writing (oh, writing some more? sure, great!) for Judaism. Gallagher and I went to Hogan tonight for sammies and chit-chat, because DAMN we hadn't had dinner together for a long time. We spent a few minutes off-campus and did a little recharging, which was great. My phone is being a jackass. STOP IT, CLARK. joannacullen it's really too bad I didn't see you today because I'm wearing my lobster shirt. Also, have you talked to Josh today? Let's f-book chat. Okay, I'm playing a few rounds of Bauns and then I'm going to plan my poetry reading. Those of you on campus who haven't heard about it yet: TOMORROW, 2-3, THE GARDEN THINGY NEXT TO ROLVAAG. My poetry class is reading, there will be cookies. | |
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| MY DADDY GOT ME A NEW BLACK IPOD NANO!!
EEK!
i love my daddy. whenever something quits, he replaces it. haha i feel so spoiled. but then again, we all realize there is an electronic curse in our family. *tear.
i almost cried when my mp3 player didn't turn on. sad for life!
another thing to check off my list :) - Mood:giddy

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| american idol tour + atlantic city=totally going to happen. i just bought our tickets! thank you poptarts internet presale. | |
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| #1 She's a Southern girl. Part Border Collie with a little bit of Aussie Shepherd and Spitz. I got Chelise in New Orleans. Yes, I know that is not the way most people spell Chelise but trust me, it was the only small battle I could win about her name at the time. I wanted to call her something literary. Sigh. I did not intend to get a dog. I had a cat. I was living in an apartment (albeit a nice sized one) and I was working a full-time job. But I went to the pound with a friend (always a big mistake) who was looking for a replacement dog. Replacement because he had adopted a dog there and then when they went to spay him, the dog had some disease and they had to put it down. So he basically had a gift certificate to the pound that he didn't want to use. Then I saw Chelise who was scrawny and covered in bugs. I figured she was about 9 months old back. She leaned against the cyclone fence and it was love at first sight. I remember being worried about have the same pound spay her. When I went to pick her up she was still out cold, sleeping in a pile of urine. They let me take her home even though she wasn't awake and I remember carrying her up those very many stairs of the apartment and hoping I didn't drop her. Benjamin (my cat) was fascinated with the sleeping dog who didn't move even when he poked it with a paw. I gave her a sponge bath and waited for her to wake up. This is the oldest picture I have of her. I think she was about a year old.  Here she is a few years later. Filled out a bit more but she still has the goofy black eye that I fell in love with.

#2 When I lived in New Orleans she was always happy to see me come home from work. I thought she was part kangaroo the way she would jump into my arms. I'd have to be quick to put my purse down so I could catch her.

Not so much anymore. I often have to go find her to let her know I am home. Part of it is I think she is starting to go deaf and part of is she just doesn't care as much as she used to.

For the longest time my cat Benjamin was her best buddy. (She mourned him for months after he died.) The two of them would wait anxiously for me to come home from work. We had a special cushion made to fit on this chest so they could look out the only window in this very tiny place we lived in when I first moved back to California.
 Back then she could still jump up on all sorts of things but now that she is older and has had back surgery, she hesitates before deciding if she really wants to make the next step up or down between the library and the rest of the house. Now that we finally have a big house with a yard it is sad. She doesn't go upstairs at all and really doesn't care to be outside for any longer than it takes to do her business.
#3 She is the least food motivated animal I have ever had in my life. At least now. When I was in New Orleans and she was still so afraid of everything and hungry she would do more for food but not anymore. She saves her treats until after dinner. No matter when you give them to her. No matter how many you give her. She just lets them pile up. At the end of the night she could have 5, 6,7 treats piled up. And while she will eat a milk bone or a greenie, she would much rather have a piece of a plain tortilla or lick the ice cream bowl.

She does, eventually eat them though.

#4 She's a bit of a snob.
 She's not fond of most men and doesn't like other dogs. She takes a while to warm up to anyone new.
And she's easily bored.
 She is also the first dog I've ever had who didn't know how to play with a ball. In all the years I've had her I've never been able to teach her how. She doesn't play much at all. Never did. She has some stuffed toys and will sometimes run after one once if you throw it, but only once.
She's also a bit silly.
 Whenever I sneeze, she leaves the room. And my office has two sets of French Doors, one from the library (where she spends most of her time) and the other from the living room (where no one spends any time.) If I close the ones to the library and leave the ones to the living room open, she can't figure out how to go around and get in the other way.
#5
She appreciates a good nap.
 In fact, nowadays that's what she spends most of her time doing. Sleeping. Behind the chair in the library or in the corner of my husband's office. Sometimes in my office but not often. Getting her to eat anymore is a major chore and she doesn't want to be petted or brushed so it is always a struggle. She just wants to be left alone and sometimes I find myself resenting the caretaking I am doing without any of the fun of having a dog.
But then I remember being in New Orleans with only Chelsie and Benjamin to keep me company. I remember how Chelsie and I would run laps around the inside of the gated apartment complex (because it was too scary to run anywhere else) and how she would always stop to roll in a muddy puddle (of which there were always many) and then jump up and shake like it was the best joke she had ever heard. I remember when a stray mama cat deserted the last kitten in a litter and I brought it home. My own cat wanted to eat it but Chelsie let it sleep between her outstretched paws and growled whenever Benjamin came close.
But most of all I remember how very lost and alone I felt living on my own for the first time (even though I was in my 30s) and how easy it was to get depressed and feel like my life was never going to get any better and how knowing I had to get up and take her outside was often the only thing that got me through the day.
 And I figure being a caretaker to her in her old age is a mighty small price to pay for all she has done for me. | |
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| Judith never posted her own answer to the last riddle, which makes me think she was satisfied with ours. Today a new riddle has been posted in the window: "Why is it in poor taste to tell RUBBER CHICKEN jokes?"Well, friends list? | |
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| This next week will drag on forever. Summer Camp is next weekend. I have no idea what I have going on this summer. It's just going to be great. | |
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| I think that version of Prince Caspian must have been made from some version of the manuscript other than the one that saw print. I'm happy to acknowledge that Changes Will Be Made, but seriously, the fuck?
At least Susan gets to be momentarily badass before, oh, y'know, being rescued by a dude. Why are the Telmarines conquistadors? Am I just not remembering this little detail?
It was ever so nice of this film to remind me just how little time Lewis had for women. In this world, you may be a child, a witch, possibly a non-fighting centaur whose entire role is to cry, or ... too old to stay in Narnia. Oh, and you have one other option, but to discuss that one would be spoileriffic.
I loved these books when I was a kid. It's easy enough to have tunnel vision when you're eight, I guess.
Grumble, bitch, whine, moan, complain.
Some parts were really quite nifty, though. In all fairness. | |
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| What I always hate the most is waiting and not knowing. These entire last three weeks have been filled with waiting and not knowing. Also, hoping. Then again, hey, if I could wait for three weeks, I can wait for another couple of days...Starting at the New York Law Institute on June 2; three days a week paid cataloging job, two days unpaid reference internship. SCORE! (...and when I asked the guy whether it'd be fine to take a few days off around Fourth of July, his response was basically 'it's summer, I'd be surprised if you *didn't* take a few days off!') --- After this week's Funimation licensing burst, the real question is what are the two things they are announcing tomorrow and on monday... --- Quotes to always come back to: "If you understand, things are just as they are. If you do not understand, things are just as they are." ""If you believe that your destiny is decided, then most likely, it's decided. If you believe that nothing is decided, then most likely, nothing is decided." --- Down the street from my parents' apartment, GTA IV Version | |
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| Some Friday miscellany for you: 1. Since Justine nicely composed this excellent post to save me from writing a far more intemperate one, the least I can do is send you toward it. (Actually the least I can do is reward her with a delicious treat, but that's more of an offline endeavor.) 2. Who loves Joss Whedon? Meeeeeeeeeeeee! If you're raising your hand (or making a similarly undignified squealing sound), you will want to click here immediately to watch the first trailer for his new show, Dollhouse. Starring Faith. Er, I mean, Eliza Dushku. 3. Via Bookshelves of Doom, the greatest Harry Potter rapping puppet show you've ever seen. (I dare you to resist the lure of that description.) 4. A column by an English professor confessing that he cheated his way into grad school (along with numerous other acts of plagiarism before or since). This is somewhat riveting, and the big question now is: What next? Does this torpedo his career, or will it just be taken as I suspect he intends, a string of humorous anecdotes that can garner him a bookdeal? 5. Maybe it's the former debate geek in me -- defining the terms generally being the key to victory -- but I came across this today and it really struck me: "Yet does not this curious right [to define one's terms], which we have come to grant as soon as we deal with matters of importance -- as though it were actually the same as the right to one's own opinion -- already indicate that such terms as 'tyranny,' 'authority,' 'totalitarianism' have simply lost their common meaning, or that we have ceased to live in a common world where the words we have in common possess an unquestionable meaningfulness." ( Hannah Arendt) 6. In my continuing -- if often floundering -- attempt to forestall the turning-30 freakout (see subject heading), I was quite cheered to encounter this thought: "Attractive women of nineteen and twenty-nine are alike in their breezy confidence; on the contrary, the exigent womb of the twenties does not pull the outside world centripetally around itself. The former are ages of insolence, comparable the one to a young cadet, the other to a fighter strutting after combat. But whereas a girl of nineteen draws her confidence from a surfeit of attention, a woman of twenty-nine is nourished by subtler stuff. Desirous, she chooses her appertifs wisely, or, content, she enjoys the caviare of potential power." ( Fitzgerald) For the next 15 days, I think perhaps I will sign all my emails "insolently yours, Robin." (Although certain people would suggest that my entire life has been an Age of Insolence.) | |
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| It's just because it's may. It's just because it's may. (This is my mantra for the month).
So I decide to do my math of medical dosage homework so that I can stop stressing out, because math is very calming.
Except I can't focus and oh, God, I can't even do the solution calculation bullshit, Because I am a fucking idiot.
Like, I know it's all mind over matter. It's just VERY DIFFICULT to feel at all worthwhile/intelligent/capable right now. It's this bullshit my-classmates-getting-ready-to-graduate thing. I don't feel like a CC failure when they're all in HS. WHile they're getting ready to go to Bard-MoHo-Smith-Northeastern-Yale? It stings. I will not deny that.
It stings. (This girl I've known since 5th grade has a free ride to yale. She'd always get on my case about not living up to my potential. She'd carry around an SAT book in 7th grade. You know what? Maybe I didn't live up to my potential. Maybe I don't. I don't really know what that means, entirely. Or that it matters.)
It certainly stings, though.
It is very hard to feel like what I'm doing is important or worthwhile, sometimes. (I try to remind myself that while they're Juniors I'll be working an actual Job. Being a nurse. HOW COOL. But it's certainly one of those days where I wonder if I forced myself into wanting this. I don't know. I don't know! I've absolutely internalized that I'm not allowed to want ANYTHING. I don't deserve it. I don't know!)
And my side still hurts. If I could magically drop fifty pounds I'm sure it'd be instantly better. If I could magically drop fifty pounds or so, everything would stop stinging. (That is absolutely still how my mind works. Everything comes down to ONE THING that will magically make life better. I build people places situations up. I always have. Raising expectations leads to disappointing results. Always.)
The other day I was like "I very much need to scream at someone." No one in particular, I just need to scream. (I feel like I'm about to boil over. It's... less than good.) Anyway, ja responds by saying something like "that's what therapy's for" and the only response I really have to that is "I hate therapy" but really if my mind can't stop trying to eat me (I'm not shutting down and refusing to leave the apartment. I'm not having panic attacks. I just feel like my mind won't STOP. it is EATING ME.) then i may have to rethink the hatred. (But I hate it. It made me rip my hair out. [personal responsibility is overrated. Therapy MADE me do it.] It didn't make me feel any better. it made me feel worse. I hate it.) | |
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| Don’t you just love how women all across America will soon be dragging their significant others kicking and screaming to midnight screenings of the long-awaited Sex and the City movie? What fitting poetic justice for all those boyfriends who dragged us to the Star Wars Episode I midnight screening almost nine years ago now. (What woman doesn’t remember checking her watch at 1:10 a.m. during the never-ending pod race sequence and thinking that no relationship was worth this torture?) Men, it’s YOUR turn to suffer now! MUAHAHAHAH!
I adore the Carrie Bradshaw character. Every week she’d have amazing misadventures with men, occasionally out of bad fortune, often out of bad judgment, but it was all redeemed in the end because of her ability to isolate the value, meaning and humor inherent in her personal anguish and spin them into universal truths that she then enlightened millions of other women with via her column and books. She’s like the Rumplestilksin of heartbreak.
This is my favorite clip from my favorite episode, “The Real Me.” I think I like it best because it’s the only one that doesn’t depict Carrie entrenched in a relationship or getting over a relationship or struggling with being single. Men barely factor in at all. Rather, it’s all about facing failure in general and the will to carry on despite how much the world may bruise and batter our egos. So inspirational, IMO.
God I can’t wait for May 30. Happy weekend, all! | |
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| I love him. He's always saying something brilliant and I highly recommend his video blog. This particular video really resonated with me because of the trouble I have connecting with people. I've always blamed it on my introverted and quiet nature but I've learned that the culprit is fear; Fear of rejection and alienation. It has nothing to do with a static personality trait. My inability to connect also has a lot to do with my discomfort with certain aspects of who I am. The more comfortable I become with who I am, the easier it will be to be myself regardless of whether people get me or not. And perhaps, as an extension, the easier it will be for other people to get me, or at least accept me for and be comfortable with who I am. It's still kind of hard to shake that fact that there are people who don't and the need to have people around me who do. That shit gets real old, and real lonely after a while. Thank you for the responses to my last entry. I appreciate them, as always. I read them and have been letting them marinate because that's what I needed to do. I wasn't particularly sure how to answer them. I'm still not, to be honest, but I want people to know that my silence never means that I don't hear you. | |
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| Okay so my finals are over......and Ive started packing up my stuff in the room. And its SOOOOOOOOOOO SAAAAAD!! Taking down all my posters and fashion pixs. Ill never have a dorm room THIS good again. Next year I have to live in a tiny room, uggggggggghhhhhhhhh.... | |
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| THE BOOK: The Second Virginity of Suzy GreenTHE PITCH: Suzy Green used to be one of the coolest nonconformist “almost-Goth” party girls in Australia. That was before her older sister Rosie died and her family moved to a new town. Not even her best friend would recognize her now. Gone are the Doc Martens and the attitude. All she wants is to be like Rosie—perfect. The new Suzy Green makes straight As, hangs with the in-crowd at her new school, and dates the hottest guy around. And since all her new friends belong to a virginity club, she joins, too. So what if she’s not technically qualified? Nobody in town knows . . . until Ryan, Suzy’s ex, turns up. As the past and present collide, Suzy struggles to find her own place in a world without her sister. THE BLOG: www.sarahantz.com/blog THE EXCERPT: http://sarahantz.com/books/ (scroll down a bit - it's past the reviews) WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING: "he topics addressed here - sexuality, friendship, family relationsships - all add depth to the plot and should provide much fodder for discussion." -KLIATT"Reading this book is like hearing your best friend tell you the story of her life. It is fun, sweet, and hilarious. Sara Hantz really knows how to get into the teenage mind and tells us that we are okay just the way we are. Another great addition in teen chick lit." -Young Adult Books CentralTHE INTERVIEW:
What is your favorite word?Fabulous. What is your least favorite word?No. What turns you on, creatively, spiritually, or emotionally? Music. What turns you off? Blood. What's your favorite curse word?Crap. What sound or noise do you love?Waves on a beach. What sound or noise do you hate? Dentist's drill. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?Movie star. What profession would you not like to do? Surgeon. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates? "Hurray…you’ve arrived… now we can have some fun." BONUS QUESTION: If someone were to make a movie of this book, who would you want to bring your characters to life?Rachel Bilson and Zac Ephron. Sara Hantz started writing when she ran out of degrees to study and decided it was much more fun to make things up than to comment on dry academics. Born in England, she moved to New Zealand a few years ago. The Second Virginity of Suzy Green is Sara's first novel. You can visit her super-cute web site at http://sarahantz.com/. | |
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