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Before I gave up music for Lent, I was listening to my No Doubt greatest hits CD and it brought back a lot of memories, especially upon hearing ďHey Baby.Ē I missed that CD a lot, and it was the chronicle of my high school days in 9th and 10th grade, basically. I miss listening to music already, although Iím not exactly on top of whatís new. Iíd rather listen to the ďoldies.Ē For now, I think I am going to work on some poetry to submit to a contest. Letís see how this goesÖ good, I hope.
I donít get them very often, but I do tend to swallow a lot of air when I eat. That gets me bloated and itís not fun, especially when it comes at a certain time of the month that makes everything worse. This is a stupid entry and hereís something unprecedented for North Carolina: it is the second day of March and it snowed! The schools got a two-hour delay, but donít have school anyway because itís ďspringĒ break. My college has the earliest spring break out of all the colleges in the state. But thatís fine with me!
I was in tenth grade, and one of the girls in my class was frantically trying to cover up this hickey she had gotten the night before. She had her little case of makeup and was rubbing that spongy thing over the spot. Her friend was asking her questions about how she got the hickey while she was covering it, and the girl was just giggling and asking the friend if the spot looked covered. A few desks away, I was rolling my eyes, thinking, ďYouíre sixteen fucking years old. You have no business having sex, you little whore.Ē
Hidden From the World
I just finished reading this 900 page history of World War II and I still do not understand why we bombed Japan, especially after seeing what a bomb of that magnitude could do. The bomb was so well hidden from the world that the Japanese had no idea what was coming or even a clue as to what hit them. I think that must have been the worst part: the confusion. Maybe they were afraid their god was punishing them. Maybe they thought the world was ending. I donít approve of Truman for dropping the bomb.
I am not high. I've never been high. And I don't want to get high. I don't even want to drink alcohol or ever smoke a cigarette. The only alcohol I've ever had is a sip of wine at church every week. I turn 21 in June and I'm dreading it. Everything goes downhill from 21. I won't be a kid anymore. My parents have asked me what I want to do for my 21st birthday. I don't know. I want the Chicago Manual of Style and a NCSU front plate. I want to be left alone with my boring thoughts.
I think that stands for "high blood pressure" and I'm going to assume it does because that's what I had last night. Jealousy makes me shivery, it makes my heart beat and both of those things in combination make me nauseated. I think my blood pressure must have gone up, especially because all of this just seems so unfair. He is allowed to do things that I can't. I try to be loyal. Never before have I lied and told people I was single. I don't even talk to guys. But he gets bored and lonely, so he can.
It's a kind of social isolation that occurs in Japan. I thought I was socially isolated, but then I skimmed the Wikipedia article on this phenomenon. It's about kids who don't venture out of their parents' house for six months or more, even skipping school. Japanese culture fascinates me, but they do worry me. In World War II, the Japanese would sooner commit suicide than fight against the Allies. This is the same kind of thing. Is it a societal problem? Probably - just like teen suicides are a big problem here in the US. It's a huge shame.
I would rather go to his house, just to avoid the things that happen at my house. I like not having any privacy between us, because when we have privacy, scary things happen - things I cannot let happen. I do not want to be that girl. You know her - that stupid girl that lets it go. Everyone knows a girl like that. I know about three or four personally. I don't necessarily think they're stupid, just that they could have thought it out more. The joy is in the waiting and the waiting brings the joy.
History Repeats Itself
That has happened numerous times in my life, but usually in a subtle way. I came to the realization that I am basically living seventh grade over again Ė alienating girls from my life, focusing on the ďcompetitionĒ, working my butt off in school, etc. I donít really like it. Seventh grade was not my best year, and I want to put all that stuff aside. I want to be more mature than I was at 12 years old. I want to think Iíve grown up a little since then. I want to relive 8th grade Ė or 12th.
Hold My Hand
Iíd rather have him hold my hand. In high school, he used to walk with his arm around me and I didnít like it. It felt like he was keeping me too close, like he was afraid Iíd run away. I didnít like being pinned to his side while he flirted and talked to annoying friends and all that. I had to dumb myself down. I didnít like it. I either feel like I am too smart or too stupid when Iím with certain people. I wish I could feel adequate. That would be a nice feeling.
Holding My Head Up High
I can do that. Iíve been trying to do it more lately. I feel that a little bit of my self-confidence is coming back. I did a mantra last night after we got back inside from the fire drill. I repeated, ďGod, please cure me of my jealousyĒ over and over. I need self-confidence first Ė I donít need anyone who is going to bring me down. I could name a few of those people, but I wonít. I am confident that I will succeed in life, with or without my friends. They come and go.
St. Patrickís Day is the next holiday, unless you count the Ides of March. Or March 20. That can also be considered a holiday, in the most perverted sense. But Easter is the one I am really looking forward to. On that day, Lent ends and I can listen to music again! W00t! My holiday from school just ended, and now I have the summer vacation to worry about. I want to get an internship or a job so bad. I cannot just lie around the house this summer. I HAVE to do something. My sanity depends on it.
I had another one of those dreams where my boyfriend was cheating on me. Itís always with the same girl, too. I was not jealous in the dream, and was trying to be nice to the girl. I did not feel hollow inside like I normally do in those dreams. I felt like I understood her and that she understood me, even though she did not look me in the eyes. I think the dream spawned from the story idea I had last night and grew in my mind. I like having inspiration of this sort. Iím not hollow.
Home is Where the Heart Is
I like going home on Fridays. It's the most interaction and conversation I have the whole week. I get tired of going to school, going through the same routine every day, and getting rapidly bored of everything. I like talking to my family, who I feel understands me and knows what I'm talking about more than anything else. During this year I've been away at college during the week, I've come to appreciate my parents and what they do for me. I remember being such a brat in high school and I regret it.
Hook, Line, and Sinker
I try to be a skeptic. I try not to believe everything I hear without doing some kind of analysis of it first. I try not to be as naive as I have been in the past. I used to believe everything I heard or read, almost without question. I would agree with the teacher, the author, the TV show personality. Now, I find holes in their arguments. Now I apply my own beliefs to prevent myself from swallowing others' thoughts hook, line, and sinker. I hope I continue to become more wise in the future.
I donít feel that way. On the contrary, I am hopeful. Spring is coming soon, and that always makes me happy. Itís my favorite season, even though I no longer like the date of March 20 Ė or March 21 for that matter. I donít understand why some people become exotic dancers. Is it because they are hopeless? Are they in it for the money? Both? Do they like to have strangers watching them Ė sometimes dangerous strangers? I donít think I will ever understand womenís motivations for choosing that path. I know Iíll never do it, no matter how hopeless.
I donít know if I like horror anymore. The last hardcore horror movie I saw was
, which I thought was awful. That movie made me so sick to my stomach, I could barely believe it. After that, I was no longer a fan of the horror genre. The remake of
was pretty sick too, but I didnít like it because of the nudity. I think I know the answer to my problem: donít watch anymore R-rated horror movies. I think Iíll stick to PG-13 moviesÖ I just canít bear to see sex Ė itís worse than blood.
I think ďHotĒ by Avril Lavigne will win the contest for the number one song that has been stuck in my head all year. Iíve heard both the Japanese and the English versions, and theyíre both really cool, except when they get stuck in my head. I think ďHotĒ would be a better song for when youíre single, because no guy can put you in that state, at least, not for long. I have lost a lot of faith in men this year so far. The only men I appreciate are priests (not the child-molesting kind) and my dad.
That TV show has grown on me. Last semester, when I watched it with my old roommate, I hated it. I could not understand the way Houseís character was and why he did things the way he did. It was a source of confusion for me. Eventually, I grew to really like the show. I wouldnít say I was addicted to it, but I did enjoy it. I hate getting addicted to a TV show because after awhile I start to feel like a mindless drone. I like
things, not just sitting on my ass watching TV passively.
House of Mirrors
Mirrors are something else that fascinate me. Thereís this mirror in one of the buildings on campus, and itís terrible. Even when you get up close to it, itís still like one of those mirrors in an amusement park. It makes you look really fat until you get up close, and even then, you still look kind of squashed down. If youíre going to put a mirror in a womenís bathroom, at least make sure itís a mirror that can flatter the appearance somewhat. We already have enough problems with anorexia and bulimia; it canít get worse.
How Incredibly Insightful
That sounds like something that would be said in sarcasm. Right now I am pretty frustrated with my next story for my fiction writing class. I have written the whole thing, but it is the worst story I have ever written. It has a deus ex machina, the main character is passive, and the description stinks. I have no idea where to go with it. It's due Thursday, which gives me some time, but I still have nothing that is incredibly insightful; no symbolism, no theme, no memorable characters... the list of suck goes on and on.
I miss getting hugs from my friends. I don't have many friends (or really any at all) but I miss hugs. That was the fun (but also frustrating) part about high school - I always had one friend or another come up to me at some point in the day and give me a hug or otherwise show affection. Then I graduated, got a little bit wiser, and focused on getting a 4.0 GPA. I only have about 3 good friends and maybe 2 others who I am getting to know. It doesn't bother me, but I don't get hugged as much.
I have too much of a sense of humor. Today in history, we were talking about courtly love and I was sitting there grinning the whole time, and the teacher asks me (after almost calling me Margaret instead of Maggie) what could be a drawback of courtly love. I said that itís not rational. Itís not really how love is. She actually accepted that as a legitimate answer. But I was thinking about how the events in my life are like courtly love. I never see my boyfriend anymore. I donít care, either. I just trained myself not to.
Iím usually hungry, when Iím not stressed out. Right now I am a little bit stressed, worried about registration for next semester and whether or not Iíll get the internship. Nobody knows how to email me back! I really wanted that internship and that schedule. I guess Iíll wait until tomorrow, and then start sending out emails Ė maybe Iíll go visit some people. I feel weak again, but not in physical strength. My personality is weak. I donít want to get into that depressing subject anymore, so I am going to pray that my dadís surgery goes well today.
Iím a little hurt, but this is something stupid. I submitted a definition to urbandictionary.com and it was denied. That got on my nerves because here they are publishing things like this:
"Cock: (1) the best goddamn thing in the word. If I could, I'd ride one all day long. Cocks feel so great in my pussy"
How stupid do you get? My definition was a little bit idiosyncratic, but it wasnít stupid, it wasnít something thatís been defined 700 times, and it made logical sense. I donít know, but maybe the ďeditorsĒ at urbandictionary.com need to grow up.
I Call Shotgun!
Ah, the glory of multiplicity. Every time I see a hot guy driving a hot car, I get the urge to yell out, ďHey can I ride shotgun with you?Ē I have no idea why, and itís bad because I have a boyfriend. I like riding shotgun with him, but not when heís accelerating too fast, tailgating the guy in front of him or cussing at the guy behind him who is tailgating him. I think Iíd rather drive in most cases, but I donít really like driving his truck. I miss my 1987 diesel Mercedes sometimes.
I wrote a poem called ďI CanítĒ way back in either 11th or 12th grade. Probably the former, because I used to write all kinds of terrible poetry back then. I still canít do a lot of the things I wrote about in the poem, and Iím going to turn 21 in June. Itís mostly because of what I donít want to do, not what I canít do. Technically, Iíll be able to do everything, but I donít want to. I donít want to drink, have sex, or get married. I donít want to do anything but settle.
I Canít Believe You
I hate how I am such a bitch. I canít believe myself. Iíll be missing my boyfriend all week Ė all week long, Iíll be wanting to hear his voice and feel him hold me and stuff like that. When I go home, when I finally see him, I treat him terribly. I donít let him touch me, I donít let him do anything. I just bitch at him or I have to listen to his rants about the shit he goes through at work. The instant he goes home, I feel terrible about getting him mad.
I declare that ďI declareĒ is a phrase I never hear anymore. I never use the word ďdeclareĒ or any variant of it in speech tags when Iím writing and I should, just for the sake of variety. I get tired of using ďsaidĒ all the time, but that is the standard, and it makes the writing flow faster because we donít actually read ďsaid.Ē I long to be a better writer, and I practice whenever I can, even if most of that is writing academic papers. Hopefully Iíll have time in the summer to obtain more skills.
I Donít Know Why
Iím trying to figure out why I just canít settle down. Maybe itís because Iím 20 years old. Maybe itís because I want more excitement and drama in life. (I take that back, by the way.) Maybe I am too young to get married, at least mentally. That might explain a few things. Even in 2013, when I am 25, I will still be too young. I donít see myself ever marrying. I just canít see me walking down the aisle in confidence. I see fear. I see hesitation. I see the final end of childhood.
I Forgot My Pants!
Thatís a stupid prompt, so forget about it. I have never forgotten my pants. I was reading back over some old journal entries and realized that I am stuck in a continuous cycle. Iíve been growing very restless and bored lately and I think itís because I am beginning to finally realize that I have to come out of that cycle. I want my life in gear, and I want it in order. I want to know what the rest is going to look like. I need to break this detrimental cycle that wears me out.
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