I’m Diggin’ It.

FUCK. IT. 

You see, Sam… School in Louisiana…

Well, I kind of think of it as a joke. I’m going to be the rest of the country’s equivalent of stupid regardless of whether I apply myself here.

Let’s face it. The Louisiana standard?
Gifted here is the lower end of average any other place in the country. And lots of us “gifted kids” don’t even have the work ethic to rise above that. We’ve never had to.

People with more money can aspire to go out of state and be average there, maybe even good or great… but um. I can barely afford to go to Mcneese. I mean, TOPS, yeah sure. But other expenses– car, gas, insurance, books, coffee… All things I’M going to have to pay for. Not my mom, ME. And I’m not allowed to have a job. So. How the hell am I going to find the time to raise this cash and still be a full-time student? People do it, but that just seems like a whole fucking lot of responsibility, and I don’t think I can handle it. 

You could, like so many others, tell me to hound my father for college money, but it probably wouldn’t work: he already owes us thousands in child support, hasn’t made a payment since I was nine, and can hardly stay in one state. Other people are already chasing him around the continental U.S. for debts he’s had since before I was born. I think we can safely assume he won’t be contributing.

I’m not saying that money is the only thing limiting me… I mean, my apathy is definitely not something that’s helping. But I’m guessing it’s fueled by thoughts like, “Hey. I’m going to be stupid every-fucking-where I go, and I can’t afford to make myself NOT stupid when I get there.”

I try to make myself care about school… but um… it never works for longer than three weeks, and it takes about two months to figure out a way to even do THAT.

You know you’re smart.
You know you can afford a good education.
You have self-discipline. It’s something you were raised with.

But, Sammy dear, my mom didn’t have time for that. She was too busy trying to pay the electricity bill and not to break down after the deaths of both her marriage AND her son. I mean, I sure try, but that’s not something I can just learn in a weekend, and she still doesn’t have time to help me with that.

Maybe the fact that you know you CAN do something with your life makes you a little more eager to get it done.

So uh, setting goals? You just have your fun with that.
I’ll stay here and bake.

Fucking optimists.

It occurred to me earlier today that I’m a hell of a downer. When I’m not bouncing around I’m collapsed in a recliner feeling sorry for myself, thinking about how the world is shot to hell and I just want to die. Have I always been this freaking pathetic? Ugh. I disgust myself.

I talked to Keelan today. It was weird. I just needed some help finding poetry for speech. And he’s a poet. A damn good one. So I figured he’d be a good person to ask… So I asked him.

We talked about senioritis. He likes his psychology class. He got into Tulane. Right now it’s between NYU, Boston, and Tulane. Jesus.

I can’t even hope to go to LSU. I haven’t felt this stupid in a really long time. G’damn. I should probably apply myself a little more.

On the upside of things, the tournament is this weekend. I’m stoked. Leah and I are doing a duet– The History of Mankind.

For Prose/Poetry I’m reading a collection of Melody’s work from the past three summers.

God. I’m so nervous.

After the tournament, Kim and Sam and Kelvin and I are going to hang out. Not really sure where, or for how long, but it’ll be good to see Kelvin again. I haven’t really spent any time with him since four weekends ago. I hung out with him for three hours last time he was in town. And that was the weekend of pukefest. Not too fun. So yeah.

 He sent me flowers for Valentine’s day, as I metioned in an earlier blog, and they’re just now in full bloom. Gorgeous. Agh. Good job, Kelvin.

On a not-so-happy note, Walter may have been raped. He’s walking funny. And licking his ass a lot. And yowling. Poor Walter. I really hope he wasn’t violated like that. He’s only a kitten. And that would mean that one of our other cats was a pervert. That’s not a pretty thought. Not at all.

 Tired. Going to bed. Have a lovely time doing whatever it is you’re doing. Nighty-night.

I honestly don’t know how, but every time I feel upset, if I listen to The Shins, I automatically feel good.

It’s amazing.

I am so impressed. Their new album is marvelous. I mean, Oh, Inverted World and Chutes Too Narrow were both incredible, but this time… I mean DAMN. Despite how wonderful the first two albums were, they were kind of skimpy… there wasn’t really a full sound to either of them. But Wincing the Night Away is completely… ahhhh. I don’t even know.

It’s impossible for me to pick a favorite of their albums, but this one is definitely, DEFINITELY one of my all-time favorites.

Kelvin sent me flowers. Yay, right? I like flowers. A lot. They smell quite nice and are pleasant to look at.

I called to thank him. We talked until he had to go eat.

He called back, but House was on, so I told him to call back when it was over. So he did. And we talked some more. 

I ended up ranting. About Micelle’s class. And how sometimes people make me so angry that it’s often difficult not to yell at them. Like with Mercedes, when she doesn’t know what’s going on and I get really bitchy, I want to be like, “Shut the hell up and pay some fucking attention every now and again or I’ll rip out your eyeballs and shove them up your fucking vagina.”

I love the girl. But it hurts me inside to have to tell her everything that’s going on. If I don’t, she keeps bugging me. I’m not very fond of being pestered.

Point being.

I freak out. On the phone. About things that really don’t matter. And I can’t get over them. And I reveal my violent urges to people who don’t always need to know about them just yet.

I would really rather not scare off my boyfriend. And I think that to him it’s probably a little frightening to hear your girlfriend saying such things. But when I’m angry, I’m angry. And that’s just how I get when I’m angry. I can’t hide that from him. Especially when I get as angry as I do as frequently as I do. But I think this may have been his first experience with my anger. I’m not sure if he’s ever seen/heard me like that, because I usually don’t keep track of who sees it and who doesn’t. So I don’t know if he’s seriously rethinking how much he wants to be in this relationship or not… but I sincerely hope I haven’t scarred him for the rest of eternity.

that Kelvin’s mom walked in on us kissing.

And promptly slaughtered me with a machete.

Good stuff, right?

Ugh. I hate the unconcious Elise.

I’ve been nauseous and cranky and in pain all day. And I’ve been wanting to throw up just to get all of this over with. But since I wasn’t sure if I was actually GOING to throw up, I didn’t force myself to, and decided to wait it out. I’d end up feeling better once I’d gotten some more sleep, maybe some food in my tummy.

Alas, that was definitely NOT THE CASE.

I wish I had just made myself puke earlier. I waited all day to feel better just because I figured that since I don’t usually puke, I wasn’t actually going to.

I could have spared everyone if I had just gone to the bathroom and done it.

I feel so much better now, it’s outrageous. I am so pissed off. UGHHH.

            Typically, I don’t find myself particularly close to nature. I would like to, yes, but I am generally indoors with my filtered air and plumbing, so deciding what in nature I am most or least like has proven quite a challenge. I’ve gathered suggestions from others and considered several objects: daisies, grass, trees, snails, and snowflakes, among other things. But of all the parts of nature I’ve thought about, I find I can compare myself most strongly to a hummingbird.

            I am small and light, with jerky, frequent movements. I am drawn to rich colors and fragrances. The time I spend in one place is usually very brief, and I am constantly distracted by new and exciting things. I fly backward from a subject when I am startled or intimidated by it, but I don’t keep my distance for very long. Though I may be fragile, I am difficult to keep caged, headstrong and enthusiastic about a purpose I deem worthwhile. Similarly, I am not easily caught by a passing admirer, and must be shown they can give me what I need.

            I am less like a snowflake, in that I am not unique among others. I may be significantly more animated and visibly concerned about any given matter, but when it comes down to it, I am like everyone else. We all share a common want to be loved and appreciated, a passion for life, though from person to person the degree of said passion may vary quite a lot. People walk all over grass, and it has no choice but to let them. I may be submissive in rare cases, but for the most part, I do not let myself be taken advantage of. Snails, in the same way, are slow and steady, but lack the drive to be different. Trees are much stronger and stationary than I could ever hope to be.

            Of the things I considered for comparison, I believe daisies came in a close second to hummingbirds. Daisies are delicate and wilt easily without care and nourishment. I must say that when my soul needs sustenance, I fail in maintaining my regular energetic role. I need sunlight to flourish, and though I don’t make my own food through photosynthesis, when I bask in the glory of the sun, I feel refreshed and intensely inspired.

            To be sure, I am frail emotionally, but I am persistent in keeping myself above the ground. I focus on the bright and thrilling parts of living. When I am given what I need to spread my wings, I am colorfully active and get right back to drinking the nectar of life.

Thank you, Sam for providing me with the idea of a hummingbird, thank you to Kelvin for providing me with the ideas for everything else (with the exception of the snail– that was me).

Please don’t comment on it unless you’ve got some constructive criticism. I was half asleep when I wrote it, and I didn’t think very much about it, but if I have to turn this into something actually worth reading, I want to have something to go on. Thanks.

Today for journal, Mrs. Allan wrote and read about some struggles her family is having. I didn’t really know what was going on, but I almost cried in class.

 It’s days like today I get scared.

Scared of never being able to have children. Of what would happen if I actually will be. Scared of what other problems might develop in my body. Scared of more cysts. Or of my endometriosis getting worse. Of developing cancer. I don’t think I could handle any more cancer in my life. Too many people… I don’t know how they do it.

I can’t help but cry now, when I’m away from everyone else.

I hate how real everything is. How close-up and personal everything is.

It’s days like today I get scared.

I’m pretty sure that one of my ex-almost-boyfriends just hinted at hanging out this weekend.

I like being friends with him and everything, but not only am I happily dating Kelvin, who’s probably coming in this weekend, I can’t actually tell if it was a hey-let’s-hang-out-so-I-can-get-some-smooches type thing. He’s so freaking hard to read. I don’t want to make an ass of myself and be like, “Look, I’m just not interested,” when HE may not even be interested… But then at the same time I want to make it clear that nothing is going to happen anywhere in the near future (since I AM happily in a relationship).

I hate my life.

Ok, not really. But I hate being this confused concerning what people want from me. Maybe I’m letting my ego take over, thinking that everything revolves around what I’m doing (or not doing, for that matter). The world does not revolve around me. I would greatly appreciate reminders from anyone who reads this that I’m not the center of the universe.

I helped people today. I alphabetized schedule requests forms, helped a freshman figure out what classes he should take to be able to take calculus his senior year, gave a new student his schedule packets, Taylor and I did our lab today and learned to correctly use a pipette. I organized all of my school stuff. It’s been good.

Kim and I both had our hair in braids today. We went to Raising Cane’s after school. I ate the piece of chicken she couldn’t finish and stole her empty Sprite cup so I could get myself a beverage, since she was only going to throw it away. I came home to find Emma and Ronnie and tea cakes in all of their deliciousness.

With the exceptions of finding out that another of my good friends might be moving to Houston and reading the “extreme Teen Bible,” it’s been a pretty fun day. I’m feeling good.

I don’t really have much to say today. Oh, well.