Failed Pickup Line #639.

"Hey, would you be interested in hanging out and getting hammered sometime?"


No, thank you.

Gentlemen please, hear me when I say, ^^^that^^^ is the perfect example of how NOT to come on to a girl.


I don't expect total chivalry or anything, but class and integrity are nice.
Not to mention, that is the LEAST interesting thing a person could ask me to do.

Like, the idea of getting hammered with a weird old myspace stalker that I've never met has absolutely no appeal...I simply have no desire or motivation to do that.
I'd rather sleep.
Or hunt for buried treasure.
Or dye my hair.
Or...*anything*.
Or nothing.

Hahahahahahahahahaha. People are such lameasses.

:)



P.S. The guy just told me it was my loss.
Hahahahaha times ten billion. No words can express this amusement.

Epiphanies.

I've had several of these in the last 30 minutes.
I don't know why.


I've realized that, in regards to something, it is all about security.
Which may or may not last forever.
It is what it is. And security is preferable to insecurity.
Who can blame anyone for that?

I've realized that, my big future is rapidly approaching and I'm going from excited to scared to confused like crazyyyy.
But its gonna be all new, regardless. I hope that there is no "wrong" decisions here because either way I'm giving up a lot.
And the choice I make is obviously going to seriously impact who I become.
Ohhh, big huge massive decision, maybe bigger than any I've ever made in my life!


And finally I've realized that, maybe I've made a mistake.
I passed up my own security. I gave up someone because he didn't blow me off my feet.
But what if mutual love never does?
What if its never as beautiful and desirable as the unrequited?
Simply because, it doesn't leave anything to be desired, but all already available for the taking?
I could have felt so safe, so taken care of, so sure of where we stood.
But I'll give it up again and again for more ambiguity.
And maybe that is the wrong choice.
I choose to be alone, I need to accept that.



That was all incredibly vague, and I doubt anyone will know what I'm referring to completely. Its like 3 different situations....it makes sense to me now.
A lot has become clear :)

Here goes my countdown:

Countdown to what?? I'm not sure yet.

But I know this. The whole point is, I'm trying to cheer myself up. This is hard, because I can still hear my parents downstairs bitching.
Ahh, now my Ipod is in.

I have two choices here: I can either find a way to cheer myself up, or let myself stay down.
I don't feel like bitching about how unfair anything is. Or how ignorant some people are.


I would like to count down:
5 months until my birthday.
8 months until I graduate.
10 months (approximately) until I get to start over fresh. Where the hell that will be, I don't know anymore.


My point is. I've never felt this alone/neglected/hurt/generally annoyed in a very long time.

I don't want to dwell in this. I want to think about how its only a matter of months until I don't have to deal with this anymore.
But I can't just forget the present.
Because at some point, I have to go downstairs. And I have to talk to my parents. And I have to go to school, and interact with people, and deal with current situations all around.
I can't just hide for months.
I have to deal with the fact that I am currently grounded. And that my mom blames my friends for any aspect of me that she doesn't like.

And that I feel like shit right now.
And I have nobody to call.



I consider myself a very capable, responsible, and intelligent person. But none of that matters when you are still just a kid, subject to all sorts of unfavorable treatment from other people. I can't do anything about who my parents are and how they treat me.
I just wish somebody cared.

Busy.

My to do list is a mile long.

I'm officially filling out college applications.

Megan is finally mobile again, with some nice wheels.

e e cummings has officially dazzled me with amazing poems.

I can't recall the last time I was truly bored, with nothing to do.

Life feels pretty extreme right now, but in a good way.



:)

If this is how one moves into the future, then its all worth it.

I should be sleeping.

But instead I'm thinking about writing. In fact, now I'm blogging about writing.
Which makes no sense. It has nothing to do with anything related to today, or recently, or, well, any sort of relevance to anything.
But the fact is, I've been lying in my bed for pretty much the past half hour thinking about it. And I can't sleep because my brain isn't shutting down. Which sucks.

But what I've been thinking: For a significant portion of my life, I've enjoyed writing. The past several months, I've hoped (secretly) to myself and to close compadres of mine that some thing could actually come of it. Mostly, I want to out put some meaningful thing that will impact somebody for the better. I want writings and stories and quotes that make somebody just go "Oh wow. Never thought of it like that before." or "maybe there is something to it all" or stuff like that.
Its what I want to do with my future, really. Most people have dreams of careers and families and homes and such. That stuff, hasn't really meant much to me yet. I'm excited, but those aren't my goals is what I mean. My goal is to impact a few people, influentially and for the better. I want to inspire and create some lasting positive impact.
And writing has always been my own outlet. I won't go into massive detail or anything, but its like, when I was a little kid, I would always get these little journals and have a great story in mind. And after like two chapters, get bored, and get a new book and a new story. This was when I was like a 7 year old spaz. Then for a while I went through that typical tween journal phase. Bleck, no big deal.

But now, I really use writing to cope. And I like to feel like I'm creating something.
But maybe I'm not.
Because recent learnings in my literature class have illuminated me to what it means for something to be "meaningful literature."
And now I look at what I create.
My "poems" are probably devoid of imagery, metaphor, conciet, or whatever it takes to be significant. Hell, they don't even have rhyme scheme or structure. They aren't even poems. They are words.
And my blogs are worse. Emotional purging, me at my saddest or maddest, usually. Plus, blogs and lists put me to ease on nights like this. I can sleep after I empty my thoughts.
These aren't great creations. And I'm scared to try to write something real. Where do I start? And worse, what if I don't finish? I'm notorious for not finishing.

I like my stories, in my head, that I tell to others. I want people to want to go out and read them, and enjoy them.
I don't even know how great writing happens now. Or if it does. With internet and audio books and great information leaks and such, great literature seems to be growing a thing of the past.
Works like those of Tolkien, Rand, Emerson, Etc, just aren't happening anymore. My generation is all about fucking Stephenie Meyers.

I personally love any thing created. I like to look at something and feel like this was once somebody's brain child, that they poured their heart into making this. Great painters like Dali and Michelangelo. Anything that was loved by somebody, and then impacted others.
I want to do that. On a smaller scale, obviously. Its ridiculous to think one could become so big. But still. For me, its writing and stories.


That was long and ridiculous and pointless, probably.
I don't think I established anything, except that I have a goal too. A goal that apparently, takes a lot more literary devices and symbolism than I encorporate probably. I feel off base with all of this. Like all along, it was something just for fun, with no global purpose anyway. Haha. It was a lovely dream. And it still is.
I just don't get how it happens in today's world.
I'm not making sense anymore, probably.


Buuuut, I think I'm good to go to sleep now.
Goodnight :)

I swear, one day...

I'll be beautiful and mature and sophisticated.

Maybe I'm just not there yet.
And maybe love finds those that are already like that.

I wish I looked like that.
I wish I was like that.
But I can't be.


I'm still a dorky kid. I don't know when (or if) that will change.

Love me for that, if you could.
And if you can't, then I guess I'll just keep waiting.
I am who I am, and only time can change it, I guess.
I can't just snap my fingers and be...whatever I need to be.

And I'm sorry.
I'm still only human, and certainly not perfect.
No one is.
I guess some people just got lucky and were better than the rest.

Some people are just so naturally beautiful.

I want to be like that.
And perhaps, I'm coming closer to it.
I think its the sort of thing that comes with age. Growing out of our awkwardness. I look at people a few years older than me, and they seem to be the most lovely.
I hope it feels lovely when I'm there.
I hope one day people look at me and think I'm naturally beautiful like that.

:)


I'm looking to the future, because the present isn't doing much for me and nothing can be done for the past.
I have a good feeling about whats to come, a few months from now.
Its no one particular thing, but just an overall hopefulness that things just will slowly go uphill from here.


I hope this feeling stays.
Please, stay. Not enough is constant lately.

You are my sweetest downfall.

I loved you first.






There is so much I could be doing.
But I would rather just listen to this all day.
Its rather perfect, really.