Anarchy Pancakes

Tuesday, 09 August 2011

  • See you, space piggy.

    When I first started thinking about writing this post, I had all sorts of ideas and phrases I wanted to use, but now all of those things are completely out of my reach. I'll try anyway. Yesterday, August 8th, I lost my best friend.

    When I finally convinced my parents to take me to PetCo and get my first real pet, I was ecstatic. It was a day after the 4th of July and the summer before my 8th grade year. We walked into the pet store, and I went over to the girl guinea pigs, hoping to pick out the one I was going to take home. My best friend Jamie had two girl guinea pigs, and I wanted to get a girl so that they could play together. Before I even made it to the female pigs, though, I saw this ball of white, black, and tan scurry across a cage in the corner of my eye. After watching him for a few minutes, I knew I was in love. I came to terms with the fact that picking a male pig meant that my pig and Jamie's piggies couldn't hang out, or we'd create more piggies. I picked him because he was so crazy. He kept doing little burnouts around the cage, and sometimes, he'd do these jumps. He looked like a fuzzy little bucking horse. He was beautiful too. His face was black, like he was wearing a little furry mask, and he didn't have any cowlicks. He was mostly white and had these little black spots all over, like a dalmatian. His butt was tan and it always made me giggle because it honestly looked like someone had put him on a stick and roasted his bum like a marshmallow.

    On the car ride home, I decided to name him Bandit, partly because of his little face mask, and because I was obsessed with an FPS mod for Return to Castle Wolfenstein called Wild West at the time. It was little pixel cowboys versus little pixel bandits.

    I remember the first night with him in his cage, in my room. I had trouble sleeping due to my extreme state of excitement and the new noises in my room. After some time, these noises (water bottle clinking, plastic igloo hitting the sides of the cage or food dish, or little bell ringing) became my soundtrack for sleep. About half a year ago, I got pet mice too, and they also live in my room. I can hardly bear to go in there now, because the mice make noises that sound like my baby, and it nearly slays me. I saved the little chew toy with a bell on the end of it that always hung in his cage, and it's still covered in his little hairs. When I pick it up, the bell rings, and my tears fall.

    I estimated Bandit's birth to be in the month of April, since we bought him in July and the store said he was about 3 months old. He watched as I graduated middle school and began high school. He watched as my boyfriends came and went. He let me cry on him even though I sometimes liked to mess with him, staging ridiculous photoshoots and trying to teach him to jump through a hoop. He was so incredibly tolerant with me. He could have bitten my fingers off if he'd wanted to, but instead, he just laid down and relaxed while I covered him in tiny troll figurines or buried him in stuffed animals. When he died yesterday morning, he was six years old. He lived a full piggy life. He was spoiled rotten, regal, intelligent, demanding, understanding, eccentric, and gorgeous. I was in love with Bandit. I was messing around with this love calculator thing one day, just being a goof, and I put his name in, and out of allllll the guys I "calculated my love" with, Bandit and I had the highest percentage, near 100%. I know that's stupid and those sort of things are randomized, but it still makes me laugh. 

    When I was at work Monday morning, around 3am, I got this really ominous feeling. I got home around 4am and watched King of the Hill until about 5am. The entire time I was watching TV, I couldn't stop thinking about Bandit. I shut off Netflix, and went into my room. I decided that I should clean Bandit's cage because it was getting to be pretty dirty. I knew something was fairly wrong the minute I saw him. He was unusually unresponsive, but still moving and walking. I lifted him out of his cage, and put him in his favorite little stuffed car bed, and set him on my bed. I changed his cage. He wouldn't look at me. He just hid his head in his little bed. That's when I knew it was going to happen soon. He wouldn't look at me. He just kept hiding his head, like he was ashamed. I took him out of the bed, laid on my bed, wrapped him in a towel, and held him. I stroked him, whispering to him. I said, "Bandit, it's okay. You can go. I love you. I always will. You can go." Over and over. He just nuzzled my hand and tried, weakly, to get closer to my neck and face. I sobbed. My face was red and my nose kept running. The tears just kept coming.

    I took him upstairs, into my mom's room. She was only half asleep, but when she saw my face and the bundle in my arms, she bolted up out of bed. "What?!" she nearly yelled. I knew her heart was pounding just as hard as mine. "Mom.....Bandit...." I could only choke out, "Bandit's not...he..." "No!" she sobbed. My mom loved that pig just as much as I did. There was a day in the first few years we had Bandit when I woke up to find that he couldn't walk without flipping onto his back and making these terrible noises. I thought for sure that he was going to die, but my mom nursed him back to health while I was at school, and he completely healed. We still really don't know what exactly happened to him all those years ago, but I do know that he and my mom created an incredible bond during that incident and it's no wonder that she's as distraught as I am over this. 

    We laid him on her bed. He kept trying to walk, but his feet gave out from under him, and he kept falling on his face. It was one of the most tragic things I've ever witnessed in my life. I made him lay down. He tipped over on his side, like I've never seen him do before. He looked like a tiny little dog who wanted you to pet his belly, but hadn't quite rolled over yet. I hated it though. My baby always laid down, all curled up and cute, not just flopped over on his side with his legs stretched out unnaturally. It was so...gruesome. Just terrible. My mom and I cried and sobbed and stroked him as he started convulsing. It was like he couldn't control his nervous system or something. He started writhing around, and I tried to hold him still. We talked to him. We told him he had to go. To go find Oreo in heaven. We told him it was okay. His eyes kept tearing up and glazing over, and I had to keep watching his belly, looking for those shallow breaths. I left to call Josh for a minute, in the fetal position, in my basement bathroom, sobbing. I came back up to check on my mom and Bandit. She had him wrapped in the towel again, like a newborn baby, stroking his head and crying softly. Then I heard it. The worst noise I've ever heard in my entire life. Worse than when my first boyfriend dumped me. Worse than when my most recent boyfriend dumped me. Bandit started crying. He was making these pitiful little squealing sobs. He was crying. I'd never heard something so sad and so horrifying. I made my mom let me hold him, knowing that it would probably be the last time I ever did while he was still alive. I cuddled him, tear drops staining the towel and falling on his fur. I surrendered him to my mother, went outside, and called my dad. He was in Wisconsin for a few days, but was coming home later that day. I told him, through tears and a shaky voice, what was happening here at home, just so he'd be ready for what he was about to come home to. When I came back inside, I looked at my mom, and I knew. Around 5:55am, I looked at Bandit's lifeless eyes. He had passed away in my mother's arms while I was talking to my dad. I honestly wonder what word I said right when his soul left this earth. My mom didn't want me to be there when Bandit finally passed, but I still feel bad, like I should have been. I made my mom let me hold him again, still wrapped in that white towel. He was so heavy. Why is he so heavy?, I remember asking my mom, over and over, sobbing. "Oh, Bandit. Baby. Oh, Bandit." That's all I could say. I felt relief that he had died before I went off to college again, and that we were able to spend his last few hours with him, and that he didn't have to die alone.

    I had a friend named Bill a long time ago. He loved rats and always had a bunch of them as pets. He once told me that "rodent deaths are spectacularly horrible" and I never quite understood what he meant until yesterday. The rigor mortis set in almost immediately. Bandit died with his eyes half shut, and his legs outstretched awkwardly. His mouth was open and I could see his teeth. I never realized how big his teeth were. I covered enough of him with the towel to make it look like he was peaceful and continued to carry him with me until 7:30, when I finally let my mom take him and lay him back in his freshly changed cage, with the towel, and put him in her room until my dad could come home to take care of the rest. My dad got home around 5:30 that evening, and was kind enough to build Bandit a little box out of wood. It was beautiful. I wrote things on the side of it that I can't quite remember, and Bandit was laid to rest by 6:30 last night.

    I will always love you, Bandit. You were my first pet and you set the bar incredibly high. I will never forget you, my true love. 

      

     

Friday, 15 July 2011

  • People who don't have a designated favorite color freak me out.

    I don't know why, I've just assumed everyone picks a favorite color. It's slightly ridiculous and even closed-minded of me, but it really blows my mind when someone says they don't have a favorite color. *shrug*

    So, I'm sitting at my kitchen table right now. My allergies are winning the war, my house is filled with teenagers, and my joints ache. How old am I, really? There are 2 weeks exactly until Anime Iowa. 1 week and 6 days until my butt is in that hotel and I'm having the time of my life. :D My mom and I are working on the cat tail for my cosplay. My mom's sticking a safety pin into the sewing machine: "Are you going to electrocute yourself?" "I don't know. *keeps on poking it in there*" My character is Dejiko from Di Gi Charat. (See photo)

    So far, I have everything I need except the tail, the bells, the dress, and apron. Oh and a wig cap. My mom's friend Marlys is a sewing GODDESS and she's making the dress and apron for me. I tried on what she has finished today, and it's looking GREAT. I'm extremely excited. I wish I could learn to make things like her. She's fantastic!

    I'll also be taking my Queen of the Cosmos cosplay with me as well. I need help though! I need to figure out how to make a nice looking and possibly functional katamari. Last year, I used Styrofoam balls and spray paint. It...looked like a katamari, but it also broke apart easily and snagged my gloves. I can't have that again. So, I'm in the market for some katamari construction ideas. Time to hit the cosplay forms. >_<

    I had some more stuff to write in here but I got really distracted again.

    Poop.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Thursday, 05 May 2011

  • There I said it.

    Let’s say you have this friend. You met this friend in high school, your freshman year, and thought he was the most annoying thing in the entire world. And then you decided to give him a chance since his music tastes and appearance happen to be exactly like yours, and that’s special because 5 people tops in the entire school listen to punk rock and dress the part as well. At the time, this meant something to you. It was important.

    After getting dumped by your first boyfriend, you start to develop a bit of a crush on this friend. He flirts back and it seems like things are going somewhere. Then, one day, he’s suddenly in a relationship with another girl, and he ignores you completely. You hate him. He is dead to you. Your crush fades away and you forget about him.

    You get a new boyfriend. Your hatred for this person begins to dull and you forget about it. A punk show that you’re both excited about brings you back to being friends again, and you end up going and having a good time together. Summer comes. Your boyfriend goes away to Utah for a few months and his girlfriend leaves for church camp. This seems like a bit of a recipe for disaster, but your love for your boyfriend and his love for his girlfriend were stronger than the past. Besides, you could never feel anything romantic for him ever again, after the way he hurt you the first time. You spend the summer hanging out with each other and he cries on your shoulder when he finds out that his girlfriend cheated on him at camp. You’re there for him and you do your best to help him be strong.

    Summer ends and school begins. He’s single and depressed, wishing his girlfriend would come back to him. He can’t move on, and he keeps dwelling on her. Eventually, he starts a relationship with another girl, yet confesses that he still has feelings for his ex and you as well. The excitement of having something new keeps him from feeling entirely sad. Once the relationship gets older, he starts wandering. He hits on you and your girlfriends. He gets too close physically and touches you too much.

    Summer comes again. You’re still dating your boyfriend, and you still will never have any romantic feelings for him, and he has a girlfriend and you remind him of this as often as he goes after you. He gets depressed and frustration when you don’t return his feelings. It’s hard to be friends with him and it becomes awkward. You don’t even want to be around him anymore. He’s a pig and he’s a sexist. He cuts down your religion and your beliefs despite calling himself understanding and your friend. He cheats on his girlfriend with one of your friends this summer and confesses this to you for a reason unknown to you.

    You get caught in the middle of his drama and it damages your friendship with the girlfriend of yours that he cheated with. Now whenever he texts you or you try to hang out with him, it’s him whining about his girlfriend, or his ex-girlfriend or his lover, or about how badly he wants you. You start to avoid him and you don’t reply to his texts. He complains that you never hang out anymore.

    Senior year comes and goes. You hang out occasionally, but you always feel his eyes on you, your chest, your crotch. He gets on your nerves with his moodiness and only brings you down when you talk to him.

    Summer comes once again. You try to give him another chance. He still only texts you about his sexual and romantic feelings for you. He expects you to text him to sleep at night or be awake at 3 AM so you can hear how much he loves you or how awesome you are. He calls you things like “champ” and “kiddo.” It makes you angry that he talks so patronizingly to you and you rarely answer his texts. When you try to hang out with him occasionally in the summer, things go terribly wrong, each time. He makes awkward, unwanted advances toward you. You go for a walk in the park with him, not knowing what else to do, and he keeps trying to touch you. You get scared when he demands hugs and you don’t know what to do because you’re alone, you’re scared, and you don’t want to touch him, but you don’t want to scream NO in his face since you were once good friends with him and it might ruin the little friendship you had left. You end up having to call one of your girlfriends to come to the park and hang out with you. When you’re driving him to his house after hanging out, he takes advantage of the fact that you’re driving and can’t stop him, and he touches you and continues his words of undying love for you, all while you’re telling him no and trying to chuckle off such an awkward situation. You park the car and wait for him to get out. He demands that you kiss his cheek. He won’t get out of your car. He won’t leave. He won’t go. You don’t want to kiss his cheek, no matter how innocent it seemed. You give in. You’re scared of him. You tell him “fine” but that it’s wrong and doesn’t mean anything. You go to do it, and he pulls a fast one, turning his head so you touch his lips with yours. You scream “NO!” and say nothing more, staring out of the windshield, trying not to cry, wishing he would leave, wishing things were like they used to be, when you were just good friends who laughed their asses off all of the time. You feel nothing but nausea towards him. Anger too. He made you feel powerless. All of this while you had a boyfriend, and he was well aware of this. All of this while he had a girlfriend and knew that you didn’t want him: because you told him. Yet he didn’t stop. He leaves the car. You grip the steering wheel and try to hold back the tears.

    So you moved away to college. You rarely talk to him and he texts you only when he’s horny or wants someone to text him to sleep. You rarely reply and he wonders why. Your boyfriend dumps you. He has a few words of sympathy, laced with flirts, and then it’s back to him wanting you to get him off.  Later, one random unfortunate night, you make a terrible mistake. You get on AIMafter getting a little…not sober, and you send him some distasteful photos of yourself, which you insist get deleted after that night or you will choke his brains out. When you sober up enough to realize what you’ve done, you also explain to him that this sort of thing will never happen again, should have never happened in the first place, and MEANT NOTHING. You practically beat him over the head with the fact that you will never feel anything more than friendship for him, and that at this point, most of that was gone too.

    Months go by. He comes to the city that you live in for a concert and you let him come over for what you think is going to be 5 minutes. While you try to make small talk, he sits on your bed and ogles you, using pick-up lines on you and saying things like “You know I’m utterly in love with you, right?” All you can do is mumble something about that not being true or that he shouldn’t, in between nervous laughs. He gets up and backs you into your closet, all while telling him no, no, no. You squeeze past him and pretend like he didn’t just try that, you sit on your floor and indifferently fold clothes because you’re scared out of your mind and can’t do anything else. You wish he would go, but he won’t. Finally, after what feels like forever, he leaves for the show and you walk him out. He hugs you in an awkward squeeze and tries to get you to kiss him, but you tell him no, no, no. You don’t want to. He says yes, yes, yes. But you go back to your room as the elevator door shuts on him, safe for now.

    Weeks pass. 3am texts “Hey are you awake?” You don’t reply. “Hey what’s up? Text me to sleep?” No. “Are you busy? I’m lonnneeeely.” Go away. “Hey cutie, I don’t see your face often enough.” Good. “I’m so hooorrnnny.” Ewwww.

    Last weekend. You have a few of your good friends come to your dorm. You lock the door and play Circle of Death with vodka. This is your third time in your entire life that you’ve ever drank. You’re not an alcoholic, and you don’t plan on becoming a frequent drinker. You’re strong and you’re firm in your beliefs. 5 shots later, you get a text. 2am “Hey, you awake?” Drunk text him. “Drinkinnnnn.” Haha. “Okay, I should leave you alone.” Yup. “I speeeaak Spanish so gooooodfdsa!” LOOOOL. “Okay.” “Git on my levelllll …I fall” No response. Win.

    Next morning, you see his Facebook status (See picture below, see my dumb retaliation). It’s obviously about you. He’s indirectly calling you out, apparently because you’ve changed into a person that you said you’d never become. His words are drenched in uppity, elitist straight-edge dickness. He says you’ve changed. You haven’t changed. You’re still the same person. You’re just exploring. You’re not keeping your mind closed. He’s such a hypocrite. He spent years being as ridiculous and offensive as possible. You get drunk a few times and suddenly, you’re a terrible person and he wants you to “get the fuck” out of his life and take your “bullshit” with you. When he sexually harassed you, so very much and so very often, did you ever post a bitchy Facebook status about him? When you let tears run down your face in front of your friends because he made you feel so bad and objectified, did you tell him to get the fuck out of your life? No. You didn’t. You should have. Did you tell his girlfriend all of the things he’s said to you? No. Did you tell his girlfriend all the things he tried to do to you? No.

    Instead, you blocked him on Facebook and now you’re writing about him in Microsoft Word, trying to get it all out, but you’ve still left out a bunch. You’re angry and hurt and disgusted. You want to see his demise.

    So I guess, I ask you, what should you do now? What should I do now? Nothing, I guess? Let the universe give him what he deserves. And it will.

     

Tuesday, 05 April 2011

  • "Ooo La Lay is a technical term..."

    I feel like there’s a lot I want to say, but I can almost not bring myself to write it out. I don’t even know how to begin, honestly. Seriously, this year has been crazy, and not in an entirely good or entirely bad way. Right now, I’m sitting in my Spanish lecture. I just failed a pop quiz since I couldn’t remember what the word “sombra” meant AND I failed to do the reading. I’m not sure I even want to look it up now.

    OMG MY SPANISH PROFESSOR IS HILARIOUS. He’s like “put it in the teaching evaluation that your professor endorses murder…but only of royalty and Celine Dion.” And then he had this picture of Celine Dion on his powerpoint, and all of a sudden, he clicks and there’s a REALLY LOUD explosion noise and her picture BLOWS UP.  And now he just said in Spanish “When my son was born, I was like ‘PUTAMADRE! HE LOOKS JUST LIKE MY DAD! It’s like DADDY ROUND TWO!”

    My fingers are absolutely destroyed. We were watching the Great Expectations movie in my Interpretation of Literature class, and one of the characters was like, “They say the windows to the soul are the eyes, but I think it’s definitely the hands.”  I agree. I love my eyes, but I think if you looked at my hands, you’d see a lot more. You’d see makeup stains from trying to make myself pretty. You’d see sweat since I’m overweight and always sweating. There’s the chipped and old fingernail polish, purple this time, but usually red or black or lime green. And there’s the marker and paint smudges too, because I think I’m an artist or something. The most important part, though, is my cuticle. Hangnails run rampant. Dried blood. Ragged and short nails, torn from nervousness and boredom. My fingers would show you that I’m not confident. I’m fully of anxiety and worries and nerves, and I think you can definitely guess that from looking at my fingers, and not my eyes. Good luck looking at my eyes, in fact, because I really cannot stand making eye contact with people. Call it rude or stupid, but I just can’t.

    I have about 20 minutes before I have another lecture to go to. I hate these little breaks in between classes because they make me not want to go to my next class.

    A lot of people hurt me this year. I don’t think I’ve been hurt more in my entire life. Yet, here I am, willing and able to talk about it. I’m not drowning or wallowing. I’m not even whining or looking for sympathy at this point. I am simply amazed at how I’m still just…alive. Living. No matter what life hands me, I seem to stay afloat. Sometimes it takes more splashing and treading water than other times, but I’m still here. I’m not broken. They didn’t take everything from me. Despite everything this year, I am glad it all happened. I’m glad I lost my boyfriend, my best friend, and the guy I was in love with. I needed to lose in order to grow. I had to grow. I was at this point my life where it was basically either stay immature and whiny for the rest of my life, or accept the fact that crap will always happen. And I faced it head on, and I’m not letting it break me. None of those people were worth breaking down completely over.

    I am stronger than I ever was before. Don’t let me ever forget that. I’m not giving in.

Monday, 21 February 2011

  • Eine Liebe, zwei Pistolen

    So, last week, I started this sorta diet thingy. It really is about time, too. I've never been the skinniest girl to begin with, but I definitely need to fix my weight right now. It's not only because I want to fit into clothes again, but I really do need to get healthy. I am a beautiful girl. I believe this. My self esteem is usually pretty low, however, and I think that if I can lose some weight, it will be a major confidence boost, and I definitely need that. I'm not trying to lose weight out of blatant hatred for my body. I've tried being hard on myself. It doesn't really work too well. This is also a major step for me, here, too. Putting my diet slightly in the public will help me be accountable.

    So here's the game plan. I have a daily calorie allowance of 1,236 calories. I have to work to not exceed that. I'll drink water whenever I can, and also pretend the elevators in my building are broken, so I'll walk down eight flights of stairs on my way to class, and up eight when I get home. Now, the goal is for me to work out for 30 minutes daily. Eventually, it would be great for me to get in 60 minutes of constant activity, but right now, I'm starting small. Baby steps, just like everyone says. So, since I'm too lazy to get myself to the fitness center (it's too cold out to walk still and I still cannot figure out the Cambus schedule), I'm going to walk up and down the stairs in my building for 30 minutes straight. It's actually really great exercise and gets my heart pumping fast. Some day, I'd like to be able to run the stairs for thirty minutes, or even walk them for an hour.

    Apparently losing weight is all about math. I've always hated math, but using math as a means to lose weight is more solid than trying to wish it away, which is basically what I've been doing for the past couple years, and look where that got me *pushes belly out and pokes it with a finger*. There's this awesome Calorie Tracker thingy on this Livestrong website that I've been using. I just enter in what I ate and how much and when, and it tracks my calories and fat and stuff. Pretty cool. It helps me watch what I shove in my mouth. It also helps me track my exercise.

    Pretty neat. More later.

    So, I just came back from my German lit class. I have one class left today, and I'm really not looking forward to it in the slightest, since we're talking about Shakespeare and I'm absolutely ignorant when it comes to reading his plays.

    Rammstein is playing a show in Chicago, in May, and I can't go because it just so happens that my German final is also on that very. same. day. Goodness.

    I have 1004 new email messages. Lord help me.

Saturday, 25 December 2010

  • I have a headache. I am the victim of the ultimate troll, short of my laptop exploding and rendering me handless. I seriously cannot figure out who this person is.

    In other news, today is Christmas (yay!) and I'm still awake. >.<

Sunday, 05 December 2010

  • Hey man, look at me rockin' out...

    This morning, I was having dreams about pet mice that turned into ferrets that turned into foxes. I woke up unable to breathe because of my guinea pig's pet dander and my allergies, and I still have the headache that came along with sleeping until 1:30pm.

    I wanted to write something interesting: something thought provoking and beyond just the daily routine of my life. I thought it could entertain my readers. But like, it's not at all like I have readers. So here's my disclaimer: I'm writing this for myself. I'm not trying to entertain you or get you to read my stupid blog, I'm honestly just writing because I have nothing better to do and I feel like getting my thoughts in text so that they do not clog up my brain.

    I have 5 class days, 3 papers, 1 speech, and 1 German final until my winter break starts. Sweet.

    I realized that I honestly have the best friends in the world. Screw you and yours. These guys rock. Last night, I watched Jaystin get shot over and over with airsoft guns. We found out that Josh has pretty good accuracy in both COD and RL. Jaystin and I want to adopt Allen and Dylan lost a bet, so I got to shave a swastika into one of his legs, and an upside down cross on the other. Pretty terrible, right? :)

    And then there's my girlfriends. If it weren't for them, I'd probably be in pretty bad shape right now. Rhiannon, Emma, and I found out last week that we're OBSESSED with the Boondock Saints movies. (I <3 Connor). Anyway, once again, I've found out that when I'm at my lowest, they'll always still be around to pick me back up when I've fallen back down.

    So, with my first semester of college nearing an end, I must say that it's actually been fun. I honestly never thought I'd make it this far. When I was in high school, college seemed like such an unattainable place. I couldn't quite grasp the concept of it, and of me being in it, but nevertheless,  here I am: in the midst of it. Wait, is nevertheless even a word? So much for being smart and in college and stuff.

    Anyway, that was a pretty pointless waste of text space. Sorry.

    <Dis is me as a pokemanz trainer.

     

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

  • As usual, I did NOT see that one coming...

    My life has taken a completely new direction since about two weeks ago. My two and a half year relationship ended. I'm not one for making my sorrow and sadness very public, though, so I'm not going to lament or analyze. I'm especially not going to cry in my posts. This is my business. Not the Internet's. I just feel like writing it down and making it at least a little public is going to help me accept it, because I cannot change it. Eventually, I won't even want to change it.

    This entire ordeal is just going to end up proving something that I've come to fully believe: in most situations, heartbreak especially, time is a person's greatest ally. The more time since the incident occurred, the stronger you can be, and the less sad you become. Don't get me wrong, though: I don't mean to sound overly optimistic and confident, especially because I am definitely not anywhere near either one of those things. I'm not even very logical or realistic, as my now ex-boyfriend loved to point out to me, and now I've come to see (unfortunately) that he was probably right. I just... I feel this. Time is going to heal me. Time is my best hope.

    Ugh, okay, so I started to analyze it a bit too much there. But I also don't want to down play it like it's no big deal or like I'm not hurting, because I am hurting and it is a big deal. I just lost a central part of my life. It's going to take some time to rebuild, but I know it'll happen. I'll recover. I've got an army of friends and family behind me. I've got plenty of time. I just need a bit more perserverence. More patience. More motivation. I didn't even make it to either of my classes today. That can't keep happening and so, I'm determined to not let it. I don't want to be sad and I'm not stringing myself along with delusions of winning him back. He honestly doesn't deserve me back, and that's not even me just being a bitter old hag. But like I've said, not gonna whine or mudsling. It's done and it's over.

    I've become so sensitive to things, though. Like when friends talk about getting married to their significant others or when friends talk of buying promise rings and stuff. It's petty, but I'm not ready for that. It makes me ache a little. I just want the days with the tears to be over. I want to be able to leave my dorm and not worry about running into him. I want to be able to leave my dorm and not constantly look for him. I can't wait for the day when I don't think about him at all and I'm not reminded of him constantly. It'll happen. I just have to be patient. One day, I'll believe that I truly am better off without him.

    Did you guys believe that? Or did it sound fake? I hope it didn't sound too much like I was trying to convince myself of all that. While for some parts I am trying to convince myself, there was also a lot that I think was coming straight from my heart.

    I've just got to take it a day at a time. Maybe even an HOUR at a time. Right? Eventually all that time will add up into a complete recovery.

    P.S: WANT WANT WANT:

     

Thursday, 10 June 2010

  • Currently
    Hell Yeah
    By HorrorPops
    DOTTED WITH HEARTS </3
    see related

    Let me tell ya, beautiful: I've been there.

    Wow, I really just hate monkeys. Monkeys, geese, kangaroos, centipedes, sloths, and rat kings. They all should die. Also, I put gibbons and baboons under the monkey category, so they're included but not specified otherwise. I really wanted to punch a goose in the face at Spencer's grad party, but there were too many people around and I didn't want trouble. But someday, I'm going to punch a goose square in the face. Oh, and by the way, a rat king is horrible.

    Not much has been going on. Wait... what am I saying? That's sorta not true.

    1. I graduated. Yay.

    2. Uh, what else happened? Oh, Red Dead Redemption came out. It's FANTASTIC. I highly recommend it.

    3. I finally got my Anarchist title on Modern Warfare 2! 25 double C4 kills... I will never put C4 on another one of my classes again.

    4. I had my grad party. Glad that's over...

    That's all I can think of. Lame, I know, but whatever. As Jaystin once said: "Just go...POOP your PANTS!"

    Right now, I'm itching to go to a concert. The only prospects right now are the Offspring/311/Pepper in Chicago or St. Paul and Mustard Plug either in Chicago or Madison. I've seen Mustard Plug three times already, but they're so good to see that it's hard to overlook. I don't know. I really want to see the Offspring, but that show is probably in a huge arena and I really don't like those kinds of shows because they're so impersonal. Anyway, I'll probably end up going to see the Offspring. I'm trying to avoid going to Warped this year, too, which should be faaaaiiiirly easy considering everything. Yeah, I'd like to see the Casualties and Reel Big Fish, but it's not really worth it. I only went last year because of Bad Religion and the Bouncing Souls. They sealed the deal. FREE BOLOGNA!

    I've made like 40 billion ringtones on this really awesome site called myxer.com. It's the most liberating thing I've done so far this summer. Sorta. I don't know what that means: I'm pretty tired. Anyway, I got the dethphone dethtone from Metalocalypse and it's really making me giggle. SO BRUTALLY AWESOME. (I can't wait for season three to come out to DVD!)

    I bought my first Streetlight Manifesto album called Somewhere in the Between. I totally dig it. I have so many new CDs that I need to rip to my harddrive, but my cord to my drive is kaputt. And that also means that I cannot update my iPod like I need to, that way Youtube will work again. I hate the sound of those words. My iPod. I'm such a sellout. :( Which reminds me that on Facebook, whenever I update from my iTouch, it says "via Facebook for iPhone" which makes me really pissed and embarrassed because I TOTALLY DON'T HAVE A STUPID IPHONE. I have something one step less stupid. The iTouch. I hate iTunes. iHate.

    This is waaaayyyyy too long already, but I'm on a roll! I'm super excited for Dead Rising 2 to come out. Also, I know that Call of Duty: Black Ops or something is coming out too, and I'll probably have to get that. I'm not crappin' my pants over it like everyone else though. I'm pretty burnt out on the series. With all the boosting and nonlegitness of MW2, the future can't be too bright. It seems like everyday, I run into noobs with the cheapest of strats. Noob tubing, stopping power, dropshotting, quickscoping, lagswitching, and camping. I know that it's nearly impossible to stop all those things, and it's just part of the game, but it makes me crazy.

    Today is the last day of school for all non-graduates. The summer is here.

    I can't get this creepy Oingo Boingo song out of my head. 80's New Wave: 1, Ashley: 0

    -.- someone get this Google toolbar away from me. NOW. I swear I disabled the heck out of it like, a million times.

    I can never write anything meaningful, can I? >.<

    *important* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQ5oO-xHs7A 

    /moar later.