I guess we're all one phone call from our knees

I guess we're all one phone call from our knees

I'm in the library and I'm supposed to be working on my paper but I think it's done, or at least done to a point that I'm mostly comfortable with, so i'm typing this so I won't be on tumblr because I'm always afraid that people are judging me when they see me on tumblr in the library.  Last night I went to a Mat Kearney concert and it was glorious and he's immensely talented and just seems like a genuinely nice person and I wish there were more of those around, you know?  I've had this stress-induced stomach ache/nausea thing going on for the last week or so, and it's making eating weird and sleeping weird and sometimes I get so trapped in my own head that I'm not sure I'll ever get out.  That's one of the reasons that I like doing this, I guess.  One of the reasons that I like making art, even if it's shitty, and writing things and calling my mom on the phone even though she doesn't say too helpful things too often.

Tomorrow is Sunday and there's a bio exam on Tuesday that I'm going to fail, yay, and then after that things should go back to their lower level of stress-inducing for at least a few weeks.  I've got this weird obsession with defining myself, which I think maybe everyone has but they just don't realize it, and lately I've been thinking about it a lot, with introvertedness and being a Reedie and dying my hair and boys and everything.  Reed can be so stifling sometimes, but it's also really stimulating.  And it's really self-aware, even self-conscious.  That's so bizarre, I think.

My mom says something to me on the phone sometimes when I'm upset, which is, "I'm sorry that it's making you so upset," and it's really ridiculously unhelpful, because it just doesn't help, and because I'm sorry that I'm so easily upset too.  

I let the day roll by I always say goodbye

I let the day roll by I always say goodbye

It's funny (in a totally so-not-funny-that-I-want-to-shoot-myself sort of way) how a perfectly decent day can become completely horrible all because I find out that my Euro teacher passed out a 41-page packet the day before break even though I told him ahead of time that I was going to be missing school and he should've given it to me early, and also because my printer is broken and I can never pick the right shoes to wear shopping.  I'm sitting here now thinking how ridiculous it is to be pitying myself like this because I'm going to college and my parents are going to pay 50 grand a year for it, and I'm listening to John Mayer and trying to slow my heartrate down but it's not working. 

I bought five more books at Powells last week and of course I've now overflowed my bookshelf again and I have nowhere to put them.  These are my problems.  These are seriously the problems that I think about when I can't sleep at night - what if I can't find a prom dress?  what if I get to college and everyone hates me?  how am I going to get to the Ke$ha concert next Friday?  next Friday?  what the hell happened to my senior year?    

Tomorrow M is bringing over the 41-page packet for me to photo copy and then I'm going prom dress shopping with J and Michelle and then Michael's picking up his packet and then I'm going to a city council meeting.  Then this weekend my aunt and uncle and cousins are staying with us because one of my cousins is having her Bat Mitzvah, so I guess I'm finishing all my homework on Sunday even though that's my least favorite thing in the world besides printers, because I've been wasting away all week instead of working on it.  But I only let myself do this because I know that I'm not as bad as everyone else, because I've already finished the hellish Montana 1948 and I did two-thirds of the packet and I made a video for my gov project, and it sucks but my group will have to live with it, so really all I have left is the essay outline for lit and apparently a 41-page packet for Euro. 

I need to sleep.  That's what I need to do, because apparently I need to be up by 8:30 to answer the door for M. 

And how you always talk of catching me but never open up your hand

And how you always talk of catching me but never open up your hand

Day 08 - A picture of yourself



Super cheesy over-the-top editing.  But I like this picture.  I don't think it looks like me - but maybe like the me I want to be:  a combination of the me that loves cheesy love songs and the me that likes epic fantasy stories and the me that is a grammar Nazi and hates slang and the me that wants to live in France and parler francais toujours.  I feel like all those parts of me are separated - like I can't be all of them at once.  Maybe that's just part of growing up, growing into yourself, or finding yourself and figuring out who you are.

Now I need to go wash my good gladiators because I wore them in the dirt the other day and they feel gross and I want to wear them tomorrow possibly, and I need to pack all my history books into a bag so I can turn them in and be rid of them tomorrow (that is, if I can lift it).  And then I need to go to bed and attempt to fall asleep at a decent hour so I can survive this hell of a week.  


Almost summer almost summer almost summer summer summer.  I can do this.  

I swear it's not me, it's just someone I used to know

I swear it's not me, it's just someone I used to know

Today was completely stressful and frustrating and sixth period always has this way of putting me in such a bad mood that I get in a fight with my mom on the way home  from school and don't speak to her for an hour.  At least I finished the script for our history video; now I'm just panicking that it's not long enough.  But I can't wait for these next few weeks to be over.  All these last-minute projects are only creating added stress.  And I'm taking the SAT tomorrow.  Yippee.  I should go to bed soon.

But first:  can someone please explain to me the difference between "what the fuck" and "what the actual fuck"?  This is completely unnecessary added emphasis.  I absolutely hate modern slang.  I hate it.  And I hate how easy it is for us to rewrite the dictionary like it's nothing at all.  Words are precious.

Okay, that made no sense.  I am so tired, and there are pieces of really brown apple on my desk from my morning snack that I never ate.  Dear future self:  do not attempt to write movie scripts because you suck.  Also, I hope you didn't fail the SAT and got into a good college and didn't totally hate it and drop out like you did with OCHSA cause that would suck.  Also, you should go to bed early, not just plan on going to bed early and then not actually do it.     

Jason Mraz is stuck in my head but that doesn't match this post

Jason Mraz is stuck in my head but that doesn't match this post

There is a certain person that I am friends with who drives me crazy. And not in a good way.

This person is rude and interrupts conversations and has no sense of personal space and puts down everything that I like. This person cannot answer a straight-forward question and only reads half of messages and then asks questions that were answered in the second half of the message. This person will not take horrible pictures of me from two years ago off of facebook and acts like a little kid with the taboo buzzer and sometimes just won't shut up. This person is also in desperate need of a haircut.

And I hate that I let people get to me like this. I'm never going to be able to keep a job anywhere if I let little things about people annoy me.

Also, I hate finals. And when everyone around me is joking about something but I don't get it. And bad hair days, and people who complain about how much they weigh, and the amount of days in a year that aren't weekends.

You're the best definition of good intention

You're the best definition of good intention

Sometimes it feels even worse to be right than it does to be wrong.
I feel like one of those girls from Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul right now.
I can't talk about this on here.

Why is the heater on so fricking high?
ricking
frisking
tricking
flicking
cricking
Firefox likes to correct my spelling.

I want to go back to then.