Blast from the Past.

Tonic- If You Could Only See; Everlast- What it’s Like; Alanis Morissette- You Oughta Know; Aqua- Barbie Girl; Blink 182- All the Small Things; Coldplay- Yellow; Counting Crows- Hangin’ Around; Counting Crows- Mr. Jones; Everclear- Wonderful; Goo Goo Dolls- Iris; Haddaway- What is Love?; Harvey Danger- Flagpole Sitta; Incubus- Wish You Were Here; Marcy Playground- Sex and Candy; Matchbox Twenty- Real World

 

I hate not being able to read people.

I am so confused.

No. Beyond confused. I don’t understand this.

That’s all I have to say.

 

There are these weird appendages on the tips of my fingers…

I got my nails done for prom.

AGH. THIS IS SO STRAAAAAAANGE.

I went from having almost nothing in the way of fingernails to having acrylic french-tipped weird things that go out farther than the fleshy end of my fingers… Oh, this is weird.

 

Great.

My dad is filing bankruptcy. Surprise, sur-fucking-prise.

That’s all.

 

I should be shot.

I hate myself. I’m a bitch. I should die. I shouldn’t be so fussy about some things. I’m not a good enough person to have the right to be fussy about stuff. I’m ridiculous. My left fallopian tube really effing hurts.

I just hung up on Kelvin for asking me to decide which weekend he shoudl come into town. It’s either this weekend or next weekend. One or the other. And he told me to choose. And I said no. Repeatedly. And he said yes. Repeatedly. So I hung up.

God, Elise… you’re such a bitch.

I posted just for you, Sam. Interesting enough? =P

 

Amanda Rogers. G’damn.

Amanda Rogers. Her music. I love it.

I want to jump off a cliff. This might be a problem.

It’s probably not healthy how much her stuff makes me want to die. I just… I don’t even know. I don’t think her stuff is particularly depressing… Maybe it is. It’s obviously some kind of upsetting.

“Love in Our Eyes” is my current obsession. It starts out slowly… she has such a little voice and it’s the main thing but then after a while the piano just gets so full in the background it reminds me of water and I just want to lie down in the middle of the hot, sunny driveway and let a raccoon eat me to death.

I don’t think that made any sense. But that doesn’t matter.

I want to curl up in a ball so tightly I just implode.

 

This may sound like I’m making excuses. Maybe I am. But at this point, I have two words to say.

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.

 

Man. I suck.

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.

 

The Shins. Basically just professing my love.

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.

 

When I freak out about little things, I suck at not freaking out about other little things.

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.