because my fingers are moving

I live in filth and revel in infamy.
If it's an important weekend, guaranteed I have my period.
I don't know the word tact, and I cross the line at least once every 12 hours.
I surround myself with people who are as screwed up on the inside as I am.
They just don't all know it yet.
But the best ones do.

I love pirates and postcards and practically anything that starts with the letter p except perhaps penis, since I prefer other words like cock and dick. Penis just sounds so polite.

I hate waking up in the morning, but love going to bed because it's warm and snuggly. I thrive on fog as long as it's pretty and light rain as long as the sun in shining. Take me to any body of water, I will make myself happy.

I re-evaluate my life on a daily basis and find out that usually I'm just treading water until I actually get it right and decide what I want to do.

Science excites me.

Traveling is the root of all good and all evil for me-- I can't get enough, but I never seem to enjoy it enough while I'm there. Being abroad is a smattering of memories, and I can't hold on to any of them.

I update sporadically, and I don't really care because this is just one way I file myself down when I'm feeling rough around the edges.

I write poetry and prefer parsnips to french fries when I'm eating a steak. I like blue cheese on top, but not by itself. My favorite meal involves mashed potatoes and meat, and I would be completely content to live off of those two things for the rest of my life, as long as you throw in a vegetable.

I love run-on sentences and write train of thought and left a lot of my heart in the south, even though I never want to be considered southern. But I do say "heaven forbid."

I am adept at understanding any rapid sort of lyric from my early obsession with beat poetry and my dedication to having a functional relationship with the English language in all of it's forms. Screamo, however, is often too much for me to decipher.

About half of the time I feel so full of life I want to explode, and the other half I feel so completely drained that even sleep takes effort. I hate and love medicine because I love the quick fix, but hate the stigma.

I hate being a woman because I hate most women and a lot of the things that we (I will include myself) feel is necessary in life. We judge and mean it, we gossip and don't mean it, and we take anything anyone else says regarding ourselves way too seriously. I mean, really, boys talk about each other all of the time, and it's endearing. What sorts of social lessons are women missing out on that makes us somewhat non-functional beings from time to time?

But I would hate to be a man because they are, largely, completely devoid of sexual power. And I may never be a CEO, but I do know how to use the fact that I'm a woman to get my way.

I like crying at the end of bad movies. I love foreign films. Video games are a part of my daily ritual. I am self-assured, but accused of being selfish. I truly don't care a lot for other people, but only because, in general, they are not much concerned with me. When I have a real friend, I get upset at every tiny bit of frustration they have and only want to fix things to make them better.

I have a love/hate relationship with the idea of becoming a parent, but I am almost certain it's inevitable.

I can not see myself in ten or twenty years.

But I look happy when I'm eighty and talking to a man with large ears.

friend is a four letter word

I would not say that I trust easily....but maybe I do. All I know is that I repeatedly get demolished by people I count among my closest friends. Maybe I have a hard time reading people or people have a hard time being honest with me...I'm not quite sure. I have always thought that I was relatively approachable, and I generally make it very clear to people that I am close to how much I desire honesty over all other things. Seriously, I would rather someone say things that hurt than to say one thing and do another.

Right now I'm just in this weird place. I know what's best for me isn't what I've been doing, but it just felt yummy, healthy, promising. I love developing friendships with people that I'm close to and ending up in a good place where there's a bubble, a safe zone, of trust. I think that before this week started, I didn't have much faith in that bubble, but for some reason I decided Monday or yesterday that it really was fine for me to put my trust into it and believe in it. Big mistake for me. Now, after having spent an entire semester trying just to protect myself from feeling abandoned, alone, worthless...I manage to do it all in one week without even having someone to abandon me in the first place.

I don't always take things like this well. In fact, I would say that most of the time I take them extraordinarily poorly. And I would also say that this time of year, the last week of classes, the moment before I need to be buckling down and doing well with work, this is not the time when I need to be making my life any harder with these issues. Sadly, we don't always get a choice in how our life plays out.

I guess this just hasn't been my year. I think, this year, I will actually make some resolutions for new year's, and hopefully stick to them.

happy songs can be right

I live an excellent life. I've been realizing this more and more and it dawned on me today that I am so incredibly lucky. Sure, some times there are these bizarro things that trouble me or kind of throw me off kilter....but when it comes to day to day life, I have it made. I live in a great place and get to take baths, cook things, and read Nabakov. I love me.

I guess the only thing that I regret, ever, is that sometimes it is clear that my life revolves around myself. I don't mean in a "selfish" kind of way....like I don't always want everyone to act only in so much as it is useful to me....but I get a little wrapped up in myself and the way I live my life sometimes. I'm terrified of outside intrusion.

There's an empty box of condoms in the trashcan outside of my housemates' front door. The thought of them having sex with people is odd, since I'm sure it happens, and I might even hear it sometimes, but it never phases me.

Anyways, back to what I can tell is going to be one of my favorite novels. The prose is explosive.

here my motor purrs

there's a fine line between desperate and romantic. scenario once: the girl says: I have loved you from the moment I've seen you, and I think you're the one. the guy says: oh my god. you are a complete creep and I never want to see you again. get away from me. scenario deux: the girl says: I know this more than I've never known anything, that if there ever was a right one for me, you are it. I love you. the guy says: I feel completely the same way. thank you so much for being the perfect person and for loving me. let's get married.

fine line: being able to weigh the odds, play the game, and maintain a proper balance of your affections in line with the one to which they are directed.

If you play it wrong, you lose completely and usually end up single with a reputation for being crazy. Play it right, you end up married. Sometimes people say love operates in many shades of gray. Sometimes I even say it. But I'm starting to think that it's much more black and white.

I prefer to write about it in colors, so I'm off to dream.