I'm sick of people not being able to understand that there are women who enjoy being single. I'm sick of all these preconceptions about single women:

-You must be lonely, because you're SO ALONE
-You're a miserable, bitter cat lady
-You'll never be happy without a man in your life
-Your vagina probably smells


Yes, I am so tortured and lonely, because I do not have a man to make me feel whole. I am mean and weird and cold, because I don't need a boyfriend/fiancee/husband in order to be content. I'm from another planet. I'm a lesbian. I'm asexual.

Sometimes having a natural tendency to defy the conventional lifestyle can be fun. It can also be incredibly difficult, especially when your mother insists that someday you'll meet the man of your dreams, marry him, and have children, grow old together, etc. And I always reply, "And what if I don't? So what?" And she just says, "You will, and you'll change your mind."

Blahblahblah.

Whenever my grandmother asks me if I have a boyfriend, I tell her I'm too busy for one. It's kind of true. Plus there are more important activities in life than chasing men.

I won't lie; I have my share of crushes. But the thought of entering a relationship with any of these people just turns me off. My hormones say: SEX. NOW. But I think of how complicated it all is, and my brain says: "Forgetaboutit."

I have the unfortunate habit of harboring crushes on the most unattainable people. I fantasize about what it would be like to hook up with them. Reality is so disappointing.

And even when I have those days where I see couples acting all lovey dovey and get irritated by it, I'm still happier on my own. I despise being so stigmatized by people for my singleness.

When I'm cranky, it's not because I'm lonely or need to get laid. I'm just frustrated because so few people are willing to understand where I'm coming from.

I'm not sure if I should go into another shpiel about how insane I am sometimes

But it involved me being so ridiculously out of it that I forgot to run a really important errand, and as all things go, made myself look like a moron. I shouldn't let dumb mistakes get to me, but they do anyway because I make so many of them. When I'm driving, especially for three hours, my mind wanders.

A lot.

I will only go so far as to say that I spent way too much time thinking about the way someone looked at me and it made me feel warm all over. It's hard to explain. But I can't stop thinking about it. And I will shut up now before this starts to sound like some cheesy novel.

Note to self: Stop making something out of nothing.

School schmool

Philosophy is @#&!ing hard. Really, really hard. I can't wait for it to be over even though my prof is cute in a  dorky way and has a funny laugh so I can move on with my life and stress out over something else. I still forget I'm a senior sometimes. It's weird when I see people that I think are older than me and are actually younger than me. Weird, I tell you. And I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my life after college. Obviously I need to find a job, and eventually get my own place, and who knows what after that. I want to be young and naive and believe that I'll get a super awesome job somewhere really cool, but I know I have to be realistic. If I do get a super awesome job sometime in my life, it will be a long time from now. One thing I'm finding is that I really love history. Right now I'm taking a medieval civilizations class, and it's great. The professor is so enthusiastic about history, and he's quirky in that old guy historian way. Most of all though, what he talks about is so interesting. I think medieval/middle age politics is really fascinating. It was such an active time in history, when Europe and England were making big transitions into organized government and really getting themselves together. Not to mention, all the plots between royal family members and the gorgeous art and the cathedrals that were being constructed in those days. The fortresses, the conflicts between the papacy and royalty, etc. For my research paper, I'm learning about the amazing Blanche of Castile, who was Queen of France in the early to mid 13th century. I need to hurry up and finish her biography and get working on my other sources.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to get off the Zoloft. I started taking it when I was pretty young, for anxiety. A lot of times I think that my mom shouldn't have ever let them prescribe me a medication because I was so young at the time. I think it's screwed me up a little. Now if I don't take it for a couple of days, and then I do again, it messes me up physically. I feel weak, dizzy, my hands shake, and I have no appetite. My eyelids feel heavy and my limbs weigh a ton. It's pretty unpleasant. But that's what happens when you become so accustomed to having certain chemicals in your system that it affects you both mentally and physically.

When I went to Indy the last weekend of October with my parents, my mom told me that my dad finally went in for a check up (he hadn't done so for 8 years). Turns out he had a polyp, but the doctor had it removed. My dad also has very high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He lost 10 lbs over a few weeks. He has to take a medication now (I forget what for exactly) but for pretty much his entire life (until now) he has never been dependent on a medication. Whether or not he cares about that, I'm just glad he made that visit to the doctor when he did. And I hope he gets healthier.

Why do I only write here when I'm pissed about something

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place -- I don't want to apologize for who I am, but there are times when I really want to. When you're prone to being avoided, like me, you start to wonder if you should be yourself at all, as it clearly hasn't gotten you any friends. Should I say "Go to hell, this is me and if you don't like it, why are you wasting your time"? Or mumble, "Sorry" and go back to being a contrite little doormat, retreating to the wall and blending in with the stripes and flower prints? I'm caught between being my serious, distant, humorous-at-all-the-wrong-times self and attempting to fit into the mold of a warmer, more approachable extrovert.

I suck at filling that mold, by the way.

Am I awkward, or is it the people I try to have a normal conversation with? Why is it that my questions always go ignored, my snarky remarks get followed by silence, my presence not even be acknowledged? Is it because of who I am, or who I'm trying (and failing) to be? Am I not relaxed enough? Am I a ghost?

For once, I'd like to be that person that people listen to. I want people to be interested in what I have to say. I'd like to be able to actually relate to others, and have inside jokes and be able to laugh about stupid things that happen instead of slumping in my seat and feeling my insides curl in embarrassment, because I know I'm alone in what I go through. Something weird happens. "Has this ever happened to you?" I ask. "No", they say.

What do I do then?

It's like drowning in the middle of a deep pool, and no one's offering me a hand because they've never seen a person drown before.

When you hear the saying "I feel most alone when I'm surrounded by people", know that I understand it completely. Oh wait, you probably weren't even paying attention.

Ramble ramble

Tumblr is getting to be very habit-forming. I really need to stop finding ways to waste my life.

This might sound insanely trivial, but one of my goals for the not so distant future is to overhaul my wardrobe...or at least start. I know there are plenty of ways to express yourself, but I just hate that my clothes do absolutely nothing for me, stylewise. I look around and see all this cool stuff, and I'm like, wow, I really wish I'd thought of that. I know fashion is far from the most important thing in the world, but lately it's been clawing its way into my thought process and altering my interests. In other words, I'd like to get back into sewing. Get back, as in, when I was little, I knew how to sew. A little, anyway. But I like seeing how people take clothing that is super awesome but may not fight quite right, and just go, tear out some threads, and re-stitch to make everything work. That is fucking cool. I want to know how to do that. It's not a pointless skill.

So, in a way, I'm getting more into clothing and its aesthetic appeal for me. What am I into? Items that are simple yet charming, maybe with a vintage touch. I can't describe it, but it's definitely more interesting than what I actually wear.

I'm not trying to put myself down when I say I wish I had a better sense of style and dressed myself better. I don't think I tell people anything with what I wear, or pull off anything that could warrant a positive, even lasting impression. I'm dull on the outside, and while I don't see this as a horrible, unforgivable thing, it's definitely an aspect which demands improvement. I need to improve myself, inside and out. I get stuck in the doldrums so often, and it's like I don't have the energy to pull myself onto higher ground.

I want to experiment, to find what works for me (stylewise and living-wise). This is what makes me curious about the future. What can I do to improve myself, and after that, what can I do to improve the world around me? How can I consistently help out others, while juggling the tasks that make up the typical adult life? A career, household amenities, food, toilet paper, my health, my relationships?

I can be a much better person. Right now I'm just mediocre -- I'm friendly enough, I help people out in small ways when the situation calls for it. I get along well with my family and I stay out of trouble. Still, I also make mistakes, am lazy, forget things, lose things, and yell expletives at bad drivers. I'm facing the right direction, but I just need to figure out how to start moving, and keep moving. I hope I can reach my goals, no matter how simple and trifling some of them may be.

Tim Gunn's 10 Essential Elements: Must-Have Basic Wardrobe Pieces for Any Woman

Inspiration low, so I'm posting other things relevant to my interests.

1. Basic Black Dress - The basic black dress has been around for a long time. It is often called the "Little Black Dress", and it's true that shorter skirts on the basic black dress, when they hit you in the right place, can be more flattering than a long black dress.
2. Trench Coat - The trench coat is one of the pieces that is both classic and currently a hot fashion item. Most any store sells this piece now. It is great for fall and you can pick it up in a wide range of lengths.
3. Dress Pants - Although it doesn't say black, this is probably what you want to look for. Black is flattering on all figures and goes with everything.
4. Classic Shirt - The white shirt is a definite classic. But it can also come in many different styles to make it look trendy and not dated or like a man's piece of clothing. Find one that accentuates your best attributes and minimizes trouble spots. For example, if you have wide shoulders, stay away from large collars.
5. Jeans - Everyone has a pair of jeans, but does everyone have a pair of jeans that make them look great? The wider leg, low-rise jean style has been popular (and still is) but a narrower leg is coming back along with a higher waist, which eliminates the unflattering "muffin top" look.
6. Any Occasion Top - Find something you look great in that can look respectable under a jacket but bring on the fun after hours.
7. Skirt - If you need dress pants then you also need a skirt. A skirt is womanly and can be flirty or businesslike. Nowadays women do not wear many skirts or dresses, which makes a lot of them fall into a rut of dressing sloppily or like men. See number 8.
8. Day Dress - Women also are not wearing as many dresses anymore. It was certainly liberating to go from the '50s when women wore dresses every day to wearing more practical pants for gardening, exercising, and so forth. But the dress does not have to be abandoned altogether. They can be very flattering, and there is nothing wrong with "dressing up" for daytime.
9. Jacket - A jacket does not have to be masculine. Find one with a proper, fitted shape. Women's jackets should follow the silhouette of a woman's body and accent the hourglass curve at her waist. It is also a perfect piece to put with the skirt or dress pants, and white shirt. Or make it casual with a pair of jeans.
10. Sweatsuit Alternative - As mentioned before, women wear fewer skirts and dresses these days. But some women have taken casual to the extreme and spend days on end in sweatsuits. It is possible to be casual and comfortable without looking like a slob. Find a comfortable material (that's why this doesn't say jeans again – denim is not as comfortable as a nice soft cotton) that you would want to wear every day. It could be khakis, cords, a cotton dress, or much more.

Read more: http://womensfashion.suite101.com/article.cfm/tim_gunns_10_essential_elements#ixzz0VO7efsHs

WAHT DISNEY PRINCESS AM I

Cinderella

One of your parents is dead.
You are expected to do a lot of chores.
You love to dress up.
You love animals.
You are waiting patiently for your Prince Charming.
Your mom is really strict.
You have sisters who seem kind of jealous of you.
You’re afraid to speak your mind sometimes.
You have left your shoes at a friend’s house before.
You have blonde hair.
Total: 4

Belle

You’ve kissed someone your friends didn’t like.
You’ve been lost in the forest.
You love to read.
You are not shy at all, and not afraid to speak your mind.
One of your family members is a bit weird.
You have done volunteer work.
You have a wild imagination.
You love to take care of people in need.
You’ve had guys like you only because they think you’re pretty.
You’ve rejected at least one person when they’ve asked you out.
Total: 6

Jasmine

Your dad is very rich/important.
You are very clever.
You’ve been with someone way different from you.
You’re unique and different from everyone else.
You’d never marry someone just because they were rich.
You have set a lot of goals for yourself.
You don’t have a lot of friends.
You’re independent.
You are wealthy.
Your parents try to control your life.
Total: 3

Ariel

Your parents expect a lot from you.
You really try to follow the rules, but it’s hard for you.
You’re a bit of a trouble maker.
You’re the youngest in your family or in the last two.
You have a lot of sisters (three or more).
You collect something.
You have/had long hair.
You have/had a pet fish.
You’re extremely curious.
You believe everything people tell you/you’re a bit gullible.
Total: 4

Snow White

You know that you’re beautiful.
Sometimes it seems like your mom is jealous of you.
You’ve almost been killed.
You have at least seven good friends.
You’ve had food poisoning.
You have/had short hair.
You get along with almost everyone.
All of your friends are different.
You love to have a good time.
You’re happier when you’re out of the house than in.
Total: 4

Mulan

You can be a tomboy sometimes.
People wish you could be a bit more girly.
You’ve pretended to be someone you’re not.
You’ve had a physical fight with someone.
You have/had considered running away from home.
Your parents try to plan your life out.
A lot of your friends are boys.
You sometimes find yourself in bad situations.
You love your family so much that you’d do anything to protect them.
Total: 5

Aurora

You live/have lived with someone other than your parents.
You almost died at a very young age.
You are gentle, loving and/or thoughtful.
You have a decent singing voice.
You like to sleep in late on the weekends.
You spend most of your time outside, or try to do so.
You’re adopted.
You’re very romantic.
Pink is one of your favorite colors. (It's actually a good color on me)
Total: 3

Pocahontas

You love to walk around and explore big cities.
You are more spiritual than religious.
You’ve been in an interracial relationship.
One of your family members is dead (mum, dad, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa).
Your parents are very protective of you.
Someone you know has been in war.
You love nature.
You have/had black hair.
You would love to move somewhere exotic and beautiful.
You’re very adventurous.
Total: 5

Dearest Cousin

I'm too nice to come out and say this to you directly, so it's going into this obscure little receptacle in a dark corner of the internet.

You are the worst conversationalist ever. Really. It defies any metaphorical explanation. I'd probably get more out of talking to myself. You start every single "convo" with the same greeting, the same damn question. A few times I've said, "Hello, and yes I'm fine" before you got a chance to ask and you didn't seem aware of it. As your relative, I believe I have the right to complain about your conversational shortcomings. I'm aware that you're going through a lot now, but usually someone who is going through a lot, especially being someone I've known all my life, I would have thought you'd be more inclined to spill. But no, maybe I'm too young and insignificant, and you'd rather chat with my sister, who is closer to you in age. Fine. But if that's really the case, then don't waste your trivial, repetitive small talk on me. I'm sick and tired of it. I'm the small-talk recipient for lots of people, and I don't need it from you.

I often have to wait at least five minutes for a one-word reply from you. You said, "I saw Paranormal Activity today." I asked, "How was it?" You said, "Scary."
That's it. "Scary."

Well knock me over with a flea.

I should expect bland, one-word answers from you by now, but I can't stop hoping that one day I'll get some complete sentence responses. Why do you bother talking to me when we're not really even having a legitimate conversation? What's the point? Here's my advice for you:

Get a hobby.

You spend too much time sitting around, doing Facebook quizzes (which spam my homepage), watching TV, and calling my family and talking in much the same way you do with me on Facebook. I'm sorry, but talking to you in any form is painful. You're a sweet person most of the time, but your idea of conversation is excruciatingly lacking. When you're not working, this is what you do. Your social life consists of walking around the mall or going and getting drunk at bars with friends.

If you want to meet more people, and maybe even a new guy, you need to get out of the house and get involved in something. Find another job, join some kind of group, do something. I know I could say the same for myself in some respects, but I'm not the boring conversationalist. You are. You need to find better ways to pass your time. Try new things, find ways to improve yourself.

But enough of the "Hi Katie how are you" thing every day. I've answered that question way too many times. My answer is always the same. Be a little more creative. You'd have much more to say if your life were actually busier.

I think really, the reason you prefer my sister to me is because you two are more alike. Not necessarily because of age, but because you're both lacking certain maturity. Amazingly, I think my sister is more mature than you in ways. She's also more vocal and interesting to converse with (but then, she IS my sister).

Dear cousin, I love you very much, and you know I understand that you've had a lot of things you've had to deal with in the last few years, from your father's sudden, untimely death, to his belligerent relations, to your divorce. The divorce could have been avoided if you hadn't gotten married in the first place; if you'd thought things over and realized that, gee, after eight years of this lukewarm (at best) relationship, maybe marriage isn't the best idea. You two never communicate. Shouldn't that be a red light right there? One year of not-so-wedded-bliss and all that money for nothing. It's depressing.

Try thinking for yourself a little more.

H1N!!!!!1

So my mom called and told me I should get the H1N1 vaccine. I'd been meaning to pass on it, because my immune system kicks ass, but since my mom is concerned, I'm willing to go through with it. According to her, it's airborne and a person 10 ft away could infect you without even coughing. I'm not one to give in to media hype, especially concerning a virus, but my mother's word takes priority over all else (at least in the case of life or death) and since I'd hate to upset her by saying "no, I did not get the vaccine", I guess I've got no choice. Our campus is very low on the vaccine, but if it's available I guess I'll get it.

OT: The chapters in my meteorology textbook are insanely long. I was reading chapter 11 earlier (on tropical storms and hurricanes), and my god it is never-ending. I've been doing a crap load of reading this semester, but I guess that's to be expected when you're taking 18 hours.

procrastination

I’ve never watched Twilight
I have drunk alcohol
I have tried smoking
I read a lot
I’ve been in a car crash
I’ve thought someone was in my house at night
I would change over 5 things about my body
I know all the words to ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’
I’ve lied to my best friend
I’ve pretended to like something to fit in
I’ve dyed my hair
I’ve wished a family member ill
I’ve hit someone
I have read all the Harry Potters
I know all the words to Mean Girls
I am an atheist
I’ve pretended to like something in order to talk to a boy
I’ve been abroad
I don’t want to be a photographer
I own skinny jeans
I like tea
I hardly ever wear makeup
I wish I could sing
I am happy with my body
I’m not very outspoken
I wish I was older
I’ve done an all nighter
I’ve woken up and couldn’t remember the night before
I have a scar that i don’t know where it's from
I really like buying stationery
I have had the same phone for over a year
I have broken something in a shop
I like coffee
I collect something
I wish I wasn’t so restricted
I’ve stolen sweets
I’ve cried so much its hurt
I have tried to lose weight
I have tried to call with my remote control
I like tinned fruit
I’m addicted to the internet
I like compliments
I’m easily persuaded
I think my friends hate me at times
Or all the time
I own more than one pair of trainers
I prefer morning to night
Lord of the Rings IS cool
I like someone
They don’t like me
I show emotion too much
I can't be without my phone

I don't know what to do anymore.

I'm so angry, about lots of things right now.

Incompetent sellers on Amazon.com. Irresponsible cousins who don't fucking THINK before they do something big, like GETTING MARRIED. And then divorce a year later. How stupid can you be? People who take ten minutes to make a left hand turn. Having only 20 minutes to cover seven chapters in detail about the Dark Ages for the midterm. My room being an icebox, even when the heat is turned up. People not giving a shit about me, even though I do my best to be nice and listen when they have something to say. People who say "Sure, let's do blahblahblah sometime" and NEVER get back to me on it. Ever. This happens to me so much and I don't know what to do anymore. You wonder why I don't like to call people and ask them if they want to do something? Because they either say no or say "sure, some other time" and then never speak to me again. Because, you know, they have sooo many fucking friends that they can't possibly remember a 2 minute chat with little ol' me, or they're just sooo busy, or they're too high in the social hierarchy to acknowledge me and my pathetic attempt at being a NORMAL university student, and actually getting together with people and hanging out.

Because, for me, that's just too fucking much to ask.

My housemates are slobs, I'm ready to strangle their cat, and my room is FREEZING; I don't care if I said that already. My hands are numb from the cold. I can pile on the blankets and I'm still cold.

And the people I talk to couldn't give the slightest shit about me. I'm a temporary distraction, someone to talk to for lack of anything better to do. That's it. I'm "there", much like a lamp or a feather duster. I'm not worth anyone's friendship.

More talking about myself

I don't like putting myself on a pedestal, but it's hard not to when, every day, I find more and more things that set me apart from my peers. I don't think I'm "special", or better than anyone else. That's not it at all. It's more a type of alienation or isolation. That feeling of loneliness despite being surrounded by thousands of people.
The thing is, though, that I don't feel lonely all the time, when I'm alone. I enjoy solitude, maybe sometimes too much. It's comfortable.

The same goes for relationships (or in my case, lack of). I have crushes like every other girl, but I'm content with being single. People don't understand that I'm happy on my own, and don't need some guy to complete my life. If I meet someone who defies all my conceptions of the male species, then so be it. But until then, I have no interest in dating. Absolutely none. My lack of affection and sentiment towards others has drawn criticism. I've been told I'm "cold" and "unemotional".

This is bullshit, especially since these critics barely knew me. Some of us expect constant attention from others. They want close physical proximity almost all the time and they can't function by themselves. I know people who can't even watch TV by themselves. This strikes me as odd, but I know better than to inquire into this and hurt anyone's feelings.

What I'm trying to say is, unless you've known me all my life, you have no right to call me cold and unemotional. I have as much emotional capacity as anyone else; I just express it differently. If you don't understand it and hate that you don't understand it, I'm sorry. I don't understand you either. But I don't expect YOU to change, and I won't change either unless I feel that there is truly something I need to change that will benefit both myself and others. We all have our own ways of living, of functioning, of taking the path of least resistance to get through each day. We learn in kindergarten that we're all different.

I think it's time we all started applying that, don't you?

It's funny. I have tons of acquaintances, and few close friends. I can carry on a conversation just fine with people I barely know, but when it comes to developing actual friendships, I'm completely lost. I get along with my classmates, we share funny stories, and yet it never goes beyond that. My concern for being rejected trumps making connections with people. If only I knew how to assert myself and be more confident, I could probably have tons of friends. Instead, I have more acquaintances than I can count. Is it really just me?

So you might think I'm depressed all the time, but really, I just have a bleak sense of humor. I try to be pleasant when I feel like shit, but it's hard, and usually people treat me like a leper covered with oozing sores when I smile and giggle and act perky like a "normal" person.

I am the way I am, and if you don't like the way I am, that's your problem. I'm cynical, sarcastic, grumpy, I laugh at random times and I'm usually the only one. If I have to hear another Glee song I will rip someone's head off. I think Homecoming Week is lame. Steve from Ghost Hunters is my phobia twin. I should be doing homework right now.

Martyrs

By chance I came across a trailer on YouTube of a French horror film called Martyrs, which came out in 2008. Based on the comments on the trailer, it was brutal, disturbing, and brilliant. No one had posted the entire movie on YouTube, so I searched free movie watching sites, came across one, and found Martyrs. It was the dubbed version; I would have preferred subtitles but I wasn't about to scour the internet for the subtitled version. Anyway, I settled down and watched it.

I still can't think of how to describe it. It was horrifying, intriguing, and surreal. I didn't expect to be too shocked by the events that unfolded before me, but my jaw actually dropped a couple of times. Yes, there is a lot of violence and gore, but it isn't the shameless, pointless kind. There aren't entrails flying in all directions. The underlying plot of this film is a bit hazy, but I got the general idea that there was this strange, unheard-of organization that chooses people who will suffer unimaginable amounts of pain and agony, in the hopes of communicating with them and learning whether or not there is an afterlife. This plot doesn't reveal itself until more than halfway through the film. The first half was frightening and disturbing, but didn't make much sense, aside from Lucie going Scarface on the family responsible for her hellish childhood.

The fate of Anna near the end is extremely shocking.

I have a lot of unanswered questions after watching this, but it was definitely an eye opener (and a jaw-dropper). What sets this apart from typical slashers is the fact that the director really seemed to be aiming to show the darkest side of humanity, but also the side that is terrifyingly indifferent and entirely self-absorbed. Lucie's own personal suffering, both physical and mental, turns her into a ruthless killer, and in the end, poor Anna is tortured in the worst way imaginable and used as a "seer" into another world, for the selfish interests of others. The director made a bad choice in mashing the underlying plot into the last quarter of the film, but I would recommend this for anyone who enjoys gore and being very, very disturbed.

I experienced a lot of emotions while watching Martyrs. Horror, revulsion, hope, anger, devastation, confusion. I will remember it for a long time.

Monasticism

Suppe talked about the Benedictine monks in Medieval Civ today. I think if I lived in that time period, I would have probably figured that since I'm destined to be a hermit for the rest of my life, I might as well go all out and take the veil. Devote myself to pure concentration towards all things holy. My concentration sucks, so I think it would be a good thing for me. Or would have in a time when it wasn't so "weird" as it would be today. Despite taking the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, I would find peace, quiet, and solitude. No marriage and sex for me, please. No trivial distractions. Just me and God. Obviously I'm romanticizing a bit. Living in a beautiful old monastery, isolated from the dregs of life, yeah. Sounds soooo nice. And maybe it would, to a person accustomed to living so simply that forfeiting everything else to the Lord isn't such a big deal. I'm not even religious, but I've found a new appreciation for the meditating types who can somehow leave their anchors to the earth and unite their consciousness to something so great and intangible, so much more pure and amazing than life itself. I'd love to live in a simple house in the woods, or on an island, or at the edge of a desert, where no one can bother me anymore. It's one thing to fear solitude if it means everyone you know walking away from you and out of your life for good. But creating one's own privacy, one's own nook in some cozy corner of the world? To me, that is the best thing. That there are private, lonely places on this crowded rock which one can retire to when humanity becomes a bothersome plague.

One Vintage

This.

Insomnia/boredom

Try Harder

It's raining again. I'm sitting in my room, in the apartment I share with three other people, and wondering if I'll be able to get my life together and actually move forward -- not in the sense of time, but in accomplishing important things. Getting a job, honing my skills, finding a semi-decent career after graduation, and hopefully after that a good one. For such a long time I've felt like I've been stuck in one place, while everyone else has moved on, leaving me in their dust. Getting actual lives, and forgetting about me. I feel like a kid. I feel incapable. I feel useless and unimportant. To my former friends, I'm that old knick knack that's covered in dust and not so fun to pay attention to anymore. I hate this feeling, and I can't figure out how to change things as quickly as possible. Whenever I want something to change, it just takes its time, or simply doesn't work out. When I apply for jobs, I don't get them. When I try to sign up for an appointment for a job, it's already been taken. Something is too expensive, or reserved for younger students. Always out of reach, hampered by one thing or another. I'm sick of the obstacles. I'm sick of holding myself back, and I'm sick and tired of random issues holding me back. I'm angry. It took me fifteen minutes to open a bottle of salad dressing; first the cap wouldn't twist off until I loosened it by sticking a knife under the edge and pulling it loose. Then the peel off cover ripped and I had to use the knife to cut it off the bottle.

Little things like this only serve to reinforce the notion that I suck at living life. I can't do anything right. Clothes always wrinkled no matter how I fold them, blankets too big or too small for the bed, hair on my pillow and clogging the shower drain, sticking on the carpet and sticking on my socks. Knocking things over when I try to grab them.

Hazard signs were created with me in mind, I'm sure. I'm that girl who trips over nothing and you thank your lucky stars you're not her.

-_-

I feel so lost right now, like my life has no direction. I don't know what I want to do with my life. What scares me is the fact that I'm not really passionate about anything. What's wrong with me? Why can't I act on things, instead of sitting on my butt all the time? How long do I have to wait for the motivation to kick in?

Hm

Am I just weird, or does the dude who was once supposed to be Rochester there on the right look seriously bangable?

I need to work on painting/drawing plain/ugly people, gosh damn.

Excuse the swearing.

Analyzing My Non-sexuality and Romance

I sometimes wonder if I am asexual.

Wait, is that right? Asexual usually refers to organisms that reproduce on their own, without the participation of another organism, right? Or am I wrong?

I really need to brush up on my biology.

Okay, starting again.

I sometimes wonder if I am nonsexual.
Hmm. Still sounds funny. Whatever. Moving on, for real this time.

It's not necessarily that I don't have interests in the opposite sex. I do. However, when I start to think about the concept of the Relationship, I get turned off. Two people meet, sparks fly for some reason, things are romantic and uncertain for a little while, and then after a few weeks, they are in a Relationship. They settle down a little, create nicknames for each other, participate in shameless public displays of affection, and do everything together. They see each other everyday, and if they happen to not see one another everyday by some cruel twist of fate, they talk on the phone with their lips puckered and mumble sweet nothings and "I miss you's" and take fifteen minutes to say good bye.

At this point, our couple is solid -- they have become used to each other, and know almost everything about one another's lives, and what they're thinking about. The intrigue is gone. Instead there's familiarity, and that time where you begin to see your significant other's flaws. You start to complain about their habits to your friends.

"He shits with the bathroom door open. I can't stand it. He's like an animal!"

"She's always leaving her bloody tampons in the garbage where I can see them. She's like an animal!"

Like most relationships, it eventually ends, as the two lovebirds cool down and can finally see again, free from the haze of blinding romance. They're back to reality, and just aren't that into each other anymore.

The guy and girl (or girl and girl, or guy and guy, or guy and bench, doesn't matter really) are sick of one another and are beginning to look around for fresh new prospects. It's time to start the whole process over again. And again. And again.

See why this turns me off?

Or maybe, to return to my original point, I'm not a/nonsexual. Maybe I'm like Scarlett Johanssen, who doesn't believe in just screwing one person and staying with them forever. I like the idea of intrigue, not knowing enough about a person to criticize them. Maybe I'm a commitmentphobe. Maybe I'd prefer flings.

I did not just say that.

Anyway, for me, I'd much rather see a guy and fantasize about what he might be like, instead of experiencing the harsh cut of reality when he says he prefers sultry babes and then not so subtly digs wax out of his ear with his fingernail. Or spits on the sidewalk. I hate it when a guy does that. It's disgusting, and indicates that he couldn't care less about being a gentleman.

Maybe my standards are too high.

Should I lower them? For some reason I find this idea appalling. It puts a bad taste in my mouth.

Am I a flake? A daydreamer? A useless blob who'd rather get lost in Fantasy Land? It's so childish, this rejection of reality. But it's oh so addictive, and feels so good.

What I'm getting at, is, ultimately, that I enjoy being single. Occasionally I'll feel all blah and "Nobody cares about me" and "Baawwwww" but really, I love having privacy, and being able to do whatever I feel like doing without having to consult my "better half". I don't have to worry about another person like they're my Siamese twin.

It's great!

Before I get any complaints (cue crickets chirping), I'd like to say that I have nothing against the general population and the general decision to be a part of a couple. Most people are in relationships, and that's okay. If things work for you, then it's all good.

What I rail against is people who throw themselves into the dating pool because they feel worthless or desperate to conform to societal norms. I used to pressure myself, and my sister used to pick on me about not having a boyfriend. She basically referred to me as a lesbian, which I am not (girls irritate the hell out me; there is just no way), and this led to me being extremely ashamed and embarrassed. Obviously, one should not be ashamed about their sexuality. However, I was upset about being called something I am not. This occurred during my awkward years, when I was already wanting for self esteem and didn't have any understanding peers to confide in. My sister's teasing made me feel worse.

Over the years, as a singleton, I've obviously gotten comfortable with my status. I like it. It suits me. I'm a solitary type of person. I'm not interested in adjusting my routines and quirks around someone else's. I'm not interested in sharing a bed with another person, either. I like sleeping alone, thanks.

My outlook became even rosier when a friend of mine pointed me to a book called Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics by Sasha Cagen. I don't like to label myself, or even really define myself, but this little book got me excited. I took the quiz at the beginning (even though I'd done it once already on the website) and, to quote Sasha, "Ooh la la" -- a perfect match! I had found something that gave meaning to how I felt, and why I was so different from other girls in high school and college when it came to relationships. I'm not a standalone freak! Yessss!

It was a quiet moment of triumph (most of my triumphs, though few, usually are), but there might as well have been thousands of people standing around cheering and with speakers blasting "We Are the Champions". I felt so much more confident about my feelings. About myself. Quirkyalones are, as described by the author, people who refuse to date just for the sake of dating and being "normal", and who instead choose to stay single until they meet a person who completely blows them away (not in a violent manner, of course). Someone who exceeds one's standards and is truly special.

I don't consider myself to be a mushy gushy romantic. But I don't think you have to be the hardcore, Jane Austin-worshipping, poetic, delicate "lily" with emotions like tidal waves in order to be a "romantic". I think it just applies to a person who refuses to take part in something that does not occupy all of their heart and soul; all their care. A person that naturally claims these things is the only one worth dating. You don't make smoochy noises and scatter rose petals on the bed. You just have your own special customs, and that, I believe, is truly romantic.

Employment status: Hopeless

Making Empty Statements

Driving around today, I ended up behind a jeep of some sort with a sticker on the rear window that said, "Gas sucks. Ride a bike."

Irony anyone?

After getting my hair done at RIAH, the salon (which I will explain momentarily), I putzed around, went to Best Buy with the faint hopes of finding Shadow of the Colossus among the vintage PS2 Greatest Hits. My search proved fruitless, so I drove down to the library and picked up a few CDs, two Depeche Mode and one Elvis Costello. The girl checking out my CDs said Playing the Angel was good. I said "okay".

The pretty waves Joanna put in my hair with the curling iron have gotten sort of limp. I forgot to ask her if brushing my hair after its been curled is a bad idea. And mention that "loose waves" for me means flatness lifelessness. She used a light hairspray. I'm thinking next time she should use cement.

RIAH is, as it advertises, an experience -- not just a salon. This is true. I've been there several times now in the last few years, and it's a nice place. They serve you beverages if you like (water or a soft drink, with ice) or even snacks. The first thing you get is a hair washing, and then, one of the best parts of the "experience", the aroma therapeutic scalp massage. The room where your hair is washed is dimly lit, with little decorative fountains that provide a calming trickling sound. There is soft music, and tapestries on the walls. After they wash your hair, you get to choose one out of three different aromatherapy scents, which the stylist will then rub into your hair while they massage your poor aching head, neck, and shoulders. I'd hold up a bank to get one of those everyday.

Anyway, despite walking out of RIAH feeling like $250,000, this feeling didn't last. My hair, which I believe has a life of its own, is not interested in looking decent for more than twenty minutes. I wonder if maybe my face is the problem. I could have a movie star hairstyle but my face just doesn't look right with anything. It's a face best concealed by a paper bag with cut out eye holes.

Self loathing aside, there's not much I can do about my stubborn follicles. I wonder if Nick Arrojo himself would have any luck taming "the beast".


Employment Status: Nada

A Narcissistic Treatise

I'm no beauty, but after I showered this evening I decided to part my hair on the left side for a change. I'd normally shy away from doing this, because when I was about five I fell off my bike and scraped my head on the sidewalk, leaving a small roundish scar near the center of my hairline. When I part my hair on the right, it covers the scar. It's a little harder to cover when I part it the other way. But I decided to do it anyway (I've got nothing better to do), and in doing so had an epiphany.

In trying to hide one's physical flaws, you may end up making yourself look worse.

See, I'm kind of a weirdo; sometimes I couldn't care less what I look like, and am generally low-maintenance. Other times, I think I'm more horrifying than Quasimodo and need to put an extra hour's work into my appearance. I suppose you could say my obsession with my "ugliness" all started when I discovered what I actually looked like, from everyone else's view.

It was a disappointing day.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I think I'm above average on the looks graph. My face looks, for the most part, symmetrical, and on good days I think I'm almost pretty. But then when I saw some photos of myself, and acquired a small hand mirror which I used in front of the bathroom mirror to scrutinize my REAL face (I know, I'm insane), my stomach kind of shriveled up a little and I began to semi-obsess about my whacked out facial structure.

Why the hell is my left eyebrow jacked up like that? Why are my cheeks so puffy? Since when did my mouth drift over a little to the left? Why is my nose crooked? And OHMYGOD, my left eye is drifting AWAY from my nose! Grotesque!

In short, and being honest with myself, I realized I wasn't all that pretty. I was average at best. Maybe even ugly, from an unflattering angle. I have discovered my "bad side".

After that fateful discovery of my hideous visage, I tried out a few things to make my face look less like one side had been mashed with the forceps when I was surgically extracted from my mother's womb. I attempted brushing my left eyebrow down, and even plucked off a few top hairs. That didn't do anything, and I wound up with holes in my eyebrow. I tried plucking the bottom hairs off the OTHER brow, but that just thinned it out and looked weird. For a second I think I contemplated shaving them off and drawing them back on, as my grandmother does, but luckily that thought flitted away just as quickly as it had come.

Facial reconstruction surgery is rightfully reserved for accident victims, but some days I can't help wishing I was like Tally Youngblood from those Scott Westerfeld books (which kick ass), where, at sixteen, girls and boys go through a highly advanced "surgery" where they become totally gorgeous and attractive in every way. You could say they get super enhanced bodies and faces.

Makeup didn't ease my dilemma. Unless I had a professional working on my face everyday, like, say, an airbrush artist, nothing was going to move my features to their aesthetically correct places.

Last summer, I got my hair cut. Back in high school, my hair was long and parted in the center. This style wasn't completely unflattering to my face shape, but it was boring. Almost hippy-ish. So I got it cut shorter, but not only that, I got bangs. Bangs, which I hadn't had since I was a gangly little kid. Maybe 11 or so. I had them side swept, because I wasn't a fan of the "devour half of your head" kind that just sit there and do nothing but look outdated. When trying out different parts, I requested that Joanna part my hair from the right side. She complied. It was a change, but I liked it. The scar on my hairline, a literal bald spot, you could say, was no longer visible.

My hair has grown about four inches since last summer, and my "bangs" are half the length of the rest of my hair now. Lately, I've gotten antsy about my hair, and noticed that having it parted from the right hasn't really done much for my appearance. Because it's parted on the right, all the hair is piled to the left. The right side of my hair looks thinned and flat (my hair is thin, but abundant, and I didn't want to look like I had any less) and the other side is almost voluminous. Kind of.

So, subconsciously, I've been obsessing over my appearance and being jealous of pretty girls with symmetrical faces and high cheekbones. And thick hair. And small feet. But that's another matter I won't suffer you with.

Which leads to this very night -- or last night, to get technical -- when I contemplated parting my hair the other way. I suppose my mother's reminder to call the salon for an appointment had some influence on my decision; either way, I thought, why not? And combed my wet hair from left to right.

It actually made a teeny tiny difference, but then, that's all it really takes sometimes to freshen things up. Before, when I had tried to completely conceal my scar and soften the harshness of my face, I was actually making it worse.

Kind of reminds me of when I was a freshman in high school, and actually LAYERED my pants because I was so self conscious about how skinny and gawky I was. I can't tell you how glad I am to be out of my early teens. Luckily I've filled out some, thanks to my indolent tendencies and fatty diet. You could say, "Yeah, yeah yeah. It's called growing up," but I think it took me longer to physically develop than other girls. Naturally, my boobs probably stopped growing back in grade school, and will probably always remain a 32A. My only consolation is that hopefully they'll still have a little perk by the time other women's are sagging down to their waists.

When I was in middle school, I had no sense of style, in any shape or form. My hair was a frizzy, glaring indicator of puberty, and, in epic ignorance, I slapped sticky globs of gel onto it. I was even more fussy than I am today; any stray hairs were unacceptable, and I wore up to four or five clips in my hair. My hair was a demon I had to wrestle in those days, even though I've known girls who have hair that was and is much more beastly than mine.

Makeup was also something new, and I caked foundation onto my face that was probably too dark, and smudged blue eyeshadow onto my lids with my fingers. I didn't know good posture yet (this I didn't become consistently mindful of until maybe a year ago, if that, sadly), and my large feet looked even larger because of my skinny legs and bony ankles. I had braces, a palate-splitting and lower jaw extending device glued to my teeth that caused me endless amounts of pain and embarrassment, that had to be removed five months early because it was gouging a hole into my cheek, and incredibly low self esteem. I wanted to look presentable, but didn't know how. I didn't understand anything.

Middle school was much worse than high school. For me, high school was almost a blessing. In middle school, the girls were cruel and had established clear levels of the popularity hierarchy. Girls were either awkward and plain and didn't know what to do with themselves, or they were stylish, and both physically and socially mature. I was still very shy, and still relatively new to the town in which I'd been living for a few years.

I was a freaky little thing, though I had a couple of somewhat friends. I didn't socialize much though. It was around this time that I became very insecure, and sort of withdrew into myself. My parents worried that I was depressed.

My senior year of high school was one of the better years, where I had a small, but wonderfully unique coterie of established friends (the friends I had throughout my school years has changed quite a bit, especially since my family has moved a couple of times). I was aware of my dorkiness and chose to embrace it, instead of trying to be someone else. I wasn't interested in popularity. Fuck that. I had weird, wise-beyond-their-years friends, and a few younger individuals who were no less interesting that I wasn't as close with, but feel honored to have known. I'm definitely ready to get out into the world and make some new friends -- the few from high school I hardly see, though we try to stay in touch. But the more the merrier, right?

Well, it's one in the morning now, so I'd better wrap this up.

Being an unemployed college student who will be graduating next spring is frightening. We people tend to forget that despite what we do, we still have minimal control over our lives, and what happens to us. I feel like I'm grasping at sand, or thin air -- apparently, applying to various establishments just isn't enough to actually get me hired. But what can I do? Demand employment at gunpoint? If only I had a gun...

Despite my insecurities and trivial concerns, the one thing I appreciate about growing up is the ability (for me, at least, I try not to speak for everyone) to take things in, and actually understand them in a positive way. When I was younger, I had a tendency to reject some of the helpful things my parents told me as silly, and retreated back into my mental cocoon to feel sorry for myself.

I still have plenty of days where I feel unattractive, but it's gotten easier for me to take advice from others seriously, and be able to stand back and look at myself and see what I can work on. Not just physically, of course -- I've been able to identify what I've been doing to hold myself back, and that I (here's an "Ah ha" moment) have ridiculously high standards for everyone else, but MYSELF. I want to be a good, useful person in the world, but I do little to combat the laziness to do so. I can talk to my parents about things I feel, about myself and everything else. My parents say I've always been more mature than others in some ways, and maybe I have, but I think this is the point in my life where the real maturing begins -- when things get really tough, and my own self doubts get in the way.

Obsessing about my possible ugliness isn't going to get me a job and an income. It's not going to get me a college degree. Instead of worrying about flaws and trying to cover them, just accept them as part of what you are and don't whine about them.

That will only draw attention and make people feel sorry and a little annoyed that they even bothered to hang out with you.

I Return

So I forgot I had a blog account. Nice. That's what happens when you spend copious amounts of time on the Internet, getting account after account from website after website.

I have ceased to have an actual "life". I'm crossing over into Wonderland, slowly but surely. Instead of people, I've got textboxes and ads for sugar daddies staring me in the face.

It's summer, which is both the best and worst time of the year for me; best in that I can sit on my slowly but surely widening ass and relax -- worst because of the pressure of the impending Real World, and my fruitless job search. I'm taking out college loans. I. Need. Money.

To be a spoiled heiress...