Writing...

Fuck it. I can't think of what to write here, so I'm going to write what I want.

My parents feel oppressive, and I'm being obsessive about dreaming about some guy who can't stop thinking about me. Some guy who's hot, and smart, and can kick anybody's ass, and now I'm laughing at girls who get angry at guys for wanting a hot chick. As if we're any different, fucking hypocrites.

I want to write well, but I'm not sure that I have the right style, the right flair. The stories themselves might not be good enough. Then again, it'd be hard to write with nothing to write about.

I'm spinning my wheels in the muck of adolescence, flinging up bits of frustration, of worry, of angst(fear). The jeep is stuck, it's not going anywhere. But is this normal? Maybe if I sweep the wipers across the mud-splattered glass of the windshield and squint real hard I will be able to see other vehicles stuck, just like me, in the mud. Maybe that's the real path of life. You start being able to go anywhere, a true all-terrain vehicle. Time goes on, you get bogged down. You choose a path and it sucks you in, sucks you down and hardens around you until there is nothing left of you but a rectangle of colored metal in the ground. No need for a wooden coffin, you have a metal one already.

I'm not there yet, though. I'm still revving the engine, spinning the wheels before the brown slosh stiffens and stops me from changing. The mud is flying through the air and I'm watching it, looking at it, glaring at it, shouting at the top of my lungs bestial yells and snarls that echo through the mudland, bounce of the globules that cut through the fetid air and lodge in the muck.

I worry that I will soon be stuck.

"I just had an apostrophe."

"I think the word you are looking for is epiphany."--Hook

"Lightning just struck my brain."--Smee

MENIAL LABOR SUCKS. My summer job is working at the local water/wastewater company. On the surface, that sounds interesting. But I am working with a subset of people who are trying to take the GPS points of all the water shutoff valves in the city. All, oh, I don't know, about fifty thousand of them. Which means my day consists of...

7:50 am--show up for work, check email

8:10 am--leave in car with three other interns, begin taking GPS points of every key box in the grid

12:30pm --stop for lunch

1:30 pm--go back to work

5:00 pm--leave

It is so mind-numbingly boring I think I'm going to go insane. I wish I had books on tape on my ipod, because then I could a least enjoy the day. But then I might be rude to my partner. My brain cells are decaying, I can feel it.

But at least I'm getting paid for my rotting brain cells. Sixteen bucks (plus chump change) and hour is not bad for a summer internship. I think as time goes on it will get better. Or I'll expect less. Probably the latter. I think the true reason I'm going to college is to avoid situations like this.

Filter Fail

So, you know that filter between your brain and your mouth that tends to break down when under pressure?  Mine broke just now.  You see, I am having an affair with my model-hot boyfriend and when he and I were having raunchy sex I called out the name of the guy I cheated on him with.  Haha, not.

Actually my friends and I were playing Catchphrase and I had to get them to guess the phrase "make out."  Of course, the first thing that popped into my head was that one of my friends, Alice, had just gotten the ball rolling with another one of my friends, Chad, and had done the exact same thing last night.  So, what does my mouth go and say?

"Alice and Chad did this last night!"

And, of course, Kyle (who's a girl, fyi) yells out "MAKE OUT!", informing the other 5 participants of the circle what had happened there.  Needless to say, Alice is probably royally pissed at me and I feel pretty frickin' bad for letting her secret out.  I'm hiding in my room now.  Baaaaaaaaaka.

I head home tomorrow, and still have a shit-ton of packing to do.  I'm trying really hard to pare down how much clothes I have, but it's still freaking ridiculous how much stuff I have accumulated.  And organizing which things go home, which stay here, and which have to go in which storage bins is even worse.  Excuse me while I go call the wambulance.

Ah, well, happy ending.  Alica and Kyle just burst in here.  Alice promptly yelled "FUCK YOU!" with a smile on her face so I knew I was forgiven.  Too bad I was so relieved I started crying and worried them half to death.  But Kyle ran and got me a Kleenex.  I love having friends.

Who I Am

All right, I figured it out!  Go me.  Actually, it wasn't too difficult considering that there's a "publish post" button right there.  Hm...perhaps I'm not as smart as they tell me.  But enough about me, let's talk about me.

I am a 19-year-old college student who drinks occasionally, doesn't do other drugs, and is currently procrastinating a 5-8 page paper that's due in 4 hours.  (crap)  I've never had a boyfriend or even kissed, so I guess that's moderately pathetic.  I am not completely unattractive physically, but there's something about my demeanor that keeps guys away.  Haven't fallen in love yet, so I guess I'm waiting on that.

I am pretty self-confident, but not to the point of bull-headedness.  If I don't know it, I say so.  I try not to draw conclusions on too little information, so I don't really have any opinions on God, politics, or social issues.  I'd like to think that there's a viable solution to the world, and if I think about nuclear war I get scared.

I'm a romantic.  I like romance movies and get a kick out of smut romance novels.  I plan to have a very large collection in my house, you know, once I get a house.  Sex sounds like fun, so I'm waiting on someone cool enough to have sex with.  I think that dating me would require a large amount of self-confidence and relative maturity.  But a certain type of maturity.  For example, I love playing tag and doing things kids do, it's fun.  But I don't like doing things many people my age do, like getting high and hooking up indiscriminately.  I don't mind that my friends do it at all, that's their way of having fun, just not mine.

I like shoujo manga and read it online way too much.  I've picked up stupid catch phrases, too, like "tanoshi" (it's fun) or "sugoi" (amazing).  And I probably spelled those wrong.  Because I'm going to be writing my thoughts in this blog, I'll probably add in not-english word for kicks.  Why not?  It's mah blog, ne?

Um...we're gonna try this

So, I've never blogged or anything before.  Facebook's as complicated as it gets and I only started that because I went to college and my friends wanted a way to keep in touch, since I never called.  I'll add another post telling about me as soon as I figure out how to post this one.  I go to a smart school, you think I'd be good with computers.