home sweet united crushers

So I was right.  My last post I was extremely moody.

A perfect picture to describe my roommates and myself

I wrote that last sentence like four hours ago and I already want to change it.  Funny how moods can be altered so fast.

I moved into my new house a few days ago.  No where close to being unpacked.  I had a dream that my clothes attacked me, I am living my worst nightmare.  Almost.

I live in a house, with my only neighbors being the truck yards, and, of course, the big abandoned mill.  It's very interesting, living with three of my best friends.  I don't think I would recommend it to anyone quite yet.  It's weird, but I know it's going to turn us against each other eventually, we can't remain civil for long.  But so far, I am content.

I wish I could read minds, however.  I am pretty good with feelings.  I have this one friend, who surprises me on the daily.  I can't say I don't like it, because I really do, but for some reason today's surprise just .. set me off.  We'll see how this turns out too.

I'm being extremely vague.  I apologize.  Maybe later I'll explain.

YOLO

I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. But for a short time after you do something stupid you don't know if you're going to regret it or not. Like that time I was in soccer as a kid and I threw my water bottle in the air as high as I could, just for fun, and then immediately realized it might change course and pelt one of the elderly spectators nearby. It didn't. So I didn't have to regret my decision, but that fear made me realize I shouldn't throw my water bottles that high any more, which made me slightly less stupid.

Let's just say that over the past few days, and even the past few months, I've learned quite a lot from all the stupid things I've done. Only, at this age, the stupid things tend to be more serious. For now, the water bottle is just hanging in midair.

what

You know, maybe it's because I am on my period, or maybe it's because my life actually sucks, but I just hate everyone and everything right now.  I feel so DAMN UGLY and slopping and chubby and BLEEDING FROM MY LADY PARTS.  Well, okay, one lady part.  I am not bleeding from my girls that sit upon my chest, don't worry, no need to get the hospital involved.

Okay, I know that in about every other blog post I talk about how much I dislike something, usually myself, and then the next blog I retract what I said.  Well.  Here we go again.  I was talking to my mom yesterday, and bless her heart, I know she means well - but we were discussing how proud she is of me, and how jealous she is of women who are like me.  Women who are confident enough to be happy with who they are without a man.  And then it hit me.  I don't have a boyfriend, and I haven't had one in two years now.  I haven't even had a date.  Sure, I've been kissed by, maybe 3 different guys since then.  But that's really it.  I don't get texts from boys, I don't get attention, I don't get hugs.  No piggy back rides, no pokes to the sides, no teasing.  There is no guy who wants to grab my hand, the right way mind you, and on a cool night - don't touch me if it's hot outside, I don't want to feel your sticky body against mine, even if it is just your hand.  I get looked over.  No matter who I am with, the attention is never on me.  Even when it comes to conversations.  I AM A GREAT CONVERSATIONALIST.  I LOVE LISTENING TO PEOPLE.  But still, no one ever pays attention to the sad, ugly looking girl with glasses.  The only attention I get from guys is when they are texting me, asking me about advice on getting with my friends.  And I am so sick and tired of that.  Don't text me because you want to talk to me, text me so you can have sex with my friend.  FUCK YOU.  And fuck your morals.  You don't know me, you don't even want to know me, so how can you have the audacity to ask me for advice on my friends.

But that's a funny joke, because lately, I have felt so lost and friendless.  I know, I know, I have friends.  But they don't seem to be acting like my friends lately.  I just get so emotional, and I deal with them by not dealing with them, and then eventually they just get all bottled up and explode at one time.  Doesn't matter where I am or who I am with, they just come out.  I wish I could travel back to my junior year of high school.  I miss those friends, I miss those days.  I miss feeling comfortable in my own body, I miss not having to worry about whether or not my friends are going to piss me off or not.  I miss having a boyfriend (don't take this as I miss the boyfriend, I just miss having one), I miss having guy friends who like me for me, I miss having true girl friends.  Ones who aren't complicated and actually want to hang out with me.

Speaking of that.  I miss my friend Rina.  I don't know if she reads these, and sometimes I want her to, others not.  But she's been gone for so long and I only got to see her for a few hours a couple days ago.  I really miss her.  I miss our friendship.

I guess today, or rather this week, is just a mopey week.  I feel really sorry for myself.  But of course I don't want other to pity me.  I just need a place to write this all out.  I have a journal, but my hands get sore when I write too much.  So here I am, pouring my heart out into this stupid blog post.  Because if I ever told anyone, or attempted to tell anyone this, they just wouldn't understand.  They would judge me and tell me I am way too emotional.  Which, maybe I am, but that's who I am and I can't control it.  I guess I just need a break from everything.  Maybe I'll go to sleep until Connor comes home.

family road trips

I have been on the road for 120 hours and I am going insane. Although, it has made me realize a few things.

I need to stop relying on my friends to have a good time.

And I need new friends.

I have this app called SnapChat, where your friends can send you quick pictures of what they are up to. And this whole road trip I have been receiving pictures of my friends having a blast, while I am stuck in a small chair in a moving old van.

Only 32 more hours to go.

But they have not texted me at all this whole trip to see if I'm having a good time. So, like I said. This trip has made it pretty obvious that they really only care about themselves ... and not me. Conclusion: find new friends.

But of course, I'm not very good at that. But I am good at running away from my problems.

So California, here I come.

I'm going to tell a story about the first day of this road trip to the Grand Canyon. So sit back and enjoy the ride.
We left my grandpa's house at 3 in the afternoon on Sunday in the rain, glad to leave at that point, to be honest. We drove about 3 hours and then, lucky me, it was my turn to drive they white '94 GMC van. This van is one of those van's that when you see it coming down the road, you think, "Oh shit, how is that still running?" Yes, it's those kind of vans. The kind with a seat that lays down into a bed, and has a TV with a built in VCR in the back. Has a ladder on the back door. Why? No fucking idea. Not like you can sit on the bubbled roof. It's a real piece of work. So come 6 o'clock I take the wheel and I drive for about an hour in the middle of nowhere, a scene that looks like it is taken from the movie Children of the Corn, when I notice that I'm losing speed. I start to panic and wake up the family. After they startle awake, my grandpa tries to shift it in neutral while my dad is attempting to rev the engine, all the while I'm singing "Jesus Take the Wheel." I pull over the side, the van about to explode from the rumble strips on the road, and we sit there in silence for a good 2 and a half minutes - but it seemed like 20. We all stared at each other and finally my younger sister, Emily, says, "Uh, well now what?" and we all start to laugh. My grandpa pulls out his AAA card and calls for a tow truck. But of course, it's 7 at night on a Sunday, what repair shop would be open? After being put on hold for a good 45 minutes they tell us that they can get a tow truck to us in an hour and all they are able to do is tow us to a gas station. We sit in the old van for a half an hour, as each car passes the car shakes viciously, and I keep hearing children yell, "Take 'em to Malichi!" ... Joy. Finally the tow truck pulls up and we all pile out of the car and head up to the truck. Three small seats in his cab. One driver. Four family members. Another joy. We get to the gas station after an uncomfortable trip there, sitting on my 75 year old grandfather's lap. Fill the car up. And what do you know, it starts. The tow truck guy says it's probably a malfunctioning gas gauge. So off we go. About 10 hours later BOOM, it happens again while my sister is driving.  So I am not even joking you, from the middle of Nebraska we coasted all the way to Denver, Colorado.  COASTED.  Every time you stepped on the brake, the car would shut off, so we would have to flip it to neutral, rev the engine and hope for the best.  It was a great road trip.  Lesson learned, never take a '94 van across the country.

I miss Connor. And Loreena. And my mom.

32 more hours.

Man of Steel

I miss home. Why is space so big? If I didn't move this wouldn't happen.

Last week I told Molly how much of an asshole I am when it comes to guys. I thought I liked trying new things so much that whenever I got intimate with a guy I got bored and felt like I had to leave them. Like an asshole. Actually, I was convinced that I wasn't able to become attached to someone even. It's hard for me to imagine feeling that comfortable.

Then of course when I'm least expecting it I find the only one who's ever made me want to stay, but he has to go. See you later, Superman.

An open letter to 1615

Allen, I don't know if you remember a couple nights ago when I grabbed your ass. We were both insanely intoxicated, lying in Amelia's bed. I kept asking the slaveboy for more wine. The room was spinning. I tried to debate the economics of utilitarianism, but all I could do was agree with Ben. I don't know if you remember when I grabbed your jean-covered ass, you didn't look at me or say anything at the time. I'm sure somebody else remembers it, and if it makes you feel any better I got vomit on my iPad the next morning. I guess you're supposed to feel flattered because I think you have a nice ass, but that's just a fact. You'd have a nice ass regardless of whether or not I grabbed it that night. So I think you should feel offended that I didn't just deliver the compliment verbally with a drunken smile before ever encroaching on your ass without your permission. And I just thought I'd let you know, in case you can't remember, that I grabbed your ass a couple nights ago. And I'd do it again.

love handles

Contact appointment in t-minus 2 days.

I would like to say a few serious things right now - mostly good things, because I need to cheer up my aching, mucky heart.  They all sort of relate to me, but not as bad as my last post.  Which, I got scolded for writing by one of my best friends.

She had a valid point though, when she wrote her retaliation blog post.  Of course there were things I didn't agree with, especially because when I read it I was still in pity-mode, but the overall message was pretty inspiring to read.  Along with this post too.  Both blog posts basically said that society sucks for making women define their worth by how sexually attractive they are.  AND YOU KNOW WHAT.  THEY ARE RIGHT.  Just because I can't lure in a boy with my face and body, doesn't mean that I am not worth love and affection.  OR TO BE WORTH SOMETHING.  Whatever boy can see past my freckles, oddly shaped nose, small eyebrows, unevenly sized eyes, tiny tits, love handles, weird looking toes, and breaks past society's messed up perception on women, deserves a prize.  And I am that prize.

SeCoNd ThInG, MINNESOTA LEGALIZED THE RIGHT TO MARRY.  I am so proud of my state.

Third thing. I officially lost one of my best friends the other day. I was absolutely heartbroken. She DELETED me on FACEBOOK. And at the time all I could do was scream, "YOU'RE A CUNT. I HOPE YOU'RE AS UNHAPPY AS ME, BITCH." But now, I'm not really sad. I look back on our friendship and realize how fake it all was. I always had to watch what I said because she was so easily offended. I felt second to her in everything, which sucked. She's very pretty, and, well, I'm only average. But pretty means nothing when you're fake. Everything I said and did was, apparently to her, to spite her. She ended our friendship the day that she told me I "wouldn't understand" what she was going through. That's when it hit me how fake it all was. Because that's the only thing I do well, is care about my friends. And try to understand where they are coming from. So if she can't see that, then it was never worth it. And now I laugh at myself, I was mad that she deleted me on FACEBOOK. Who the hell cares? We deleted ourselves from our lives long before Monday evening, when I was browsing through my old pictures on the Internet. I still think about her everyday and what it could've been. But maybe this is the push I needed to move on. I don't need that stress. Never did. Never will.

FINAL THING.  I HATE WHITE PEOPLE.  REVERSE RACISM ISN'T A THING.  IF YOU ARE BEING DISCRIMINATED AGAINST, IT IS NOT REVERSE.  IT IS JUST RACISM.  IF A BLACK PERSON IS BEING RACIST TOWARDS YOU, IT IS NOT REVERSE RACISM, IT IS JUST RACISM.  Why are white people so uneducated when it comes to white privilege?!  I HONESTLY don't get it.  Society is so messed up.  If we want to move forward we need to tell kids what is happening in front of us now.  It's not their fault that they don't know what white privilege is, it is society's.  There is so much bullshit behind everything when it comes to race.  Don't believe me?  Watch Tim Wise's speech on white privilege.  He speaks to colleges and universities about it, the man knows his stuff.  I just wish that more people knew about it, then maybe, just maybe, we could end it.
HA, maybe I am just too optimistic.
But maybe not.

Also! Look! A puppy!

spirographs

Just in one of those moods again. The self pity ones. For some reason I feel like I write best when I am upset at something. And I'm usually upset with myself.

So here we go. I feel like I am a disposable friend. For some reason this has been on my mind for about a good couple of months. I feel like I am any typical white girl who could be replaced in an instance. I'm not sassy, I'm not a lesbian, I don't have a drug dealer, I'm not drop dead gorgeous, nothing about me stands out in a crowd. So I fear that if I upset one of my friends they could throw me out and find a new friend. Which, mind you, has happened before - I'm not just speaking out of pure anxiety. Where'd all my true friends go?

I keep a checklist going of things I want to talk about in my blogs, and one of them is "racist gays" ... not sure where I was going with that one. I also put "true friends" down twice, obviously still upset with being the disposable, ugly friend. On the plus side, I might try contacts in two weeks. Still hoping it's going to magically make me beautiful. HA.

I went to a party the other weekend and I had another panic attack. This time it was triggered because someone called me ugly. I can't get the feeling to shake from that moment. My friend was dragging me around asking everyone if I was cute and no one was answering. I tried to break free of his grip, but he kept going. It was probably only going on for 4 minutes top, but it felt like hours. Then when he asked these drag queens, that were attending the party, they straight up said, "no." HA, oh Molly. Thinking you might actually have a shot in life. Good one.

On a happier note, my public speaking teacher thinks I'm amazing at public speaking. Which is a shock, because before I went into that class I hated everything that had to do with public speaking. And now I actually kind of enjoy it. I like inspiring people with my stories. My teacher told me she wishes she could video tape me speaking. I don't know, makes me feel good to be actually decent at something.

And I'm going to end on that. Enough self-loathing.

deserted buildings

I never listen to signs.  There have been so many that the world has given me regarding many things - but I never listen to them.  I need help.  It's a serious problem.  But I don't want to go into serious stuff right now, I'm procrastinating three papers that are due in 24 hours.  YAY.  Anyways.

What the actual fuck.  I just spent a good ten minutes looking up this BEAUTIFUL THING called slash fiction or shipping.  I'm a little disturbed with myself though, not going to lie.  It's where they take two characters of a show/book/comic and .. make them together.  Let me shower you with examples.

THIS IS A THING.  okay.  The first one is Harry and Draco.  WHAT. The second is Edward and Jacob.  WHAT.  and the third is Ian and Anthony (...they are both so beautiful.  from a youtube channel called Smosh.  been in love with them since the ninth grade).  WHAT.

Also, not going to lie.  I searched for a good 20 minutes trying to find Jack and Finn Harries shipping.  But sadly, no one is as messed up as me.  If you don't know who the Harries twins are, you are missing out.  They have a youtube channel, but they aren't funny, or smart, or really talented - they are just beautiful.  And that is the only reason why they are famous, because they are beautiful and have a British accent.  Honestly, that is it.  Just google them.  You will see the beauty.  No, you know what.  Just click here.  Their youtube channel is called Jacksgap, if you are interested.  ENJOY THE BEAUTY.

I have a few things that I need to discuss.
Um.  Summer.  So I have a list of things I want for this summer.
Connor.
He's number one on this list.
Then a trip to California.  With Connor.  I want to go to the ocean and see attractive men, sun bathe, ENJOY LIFE, the usual.  I also want to try contacts.  EH GASP.  To be honest, I didn't want contacts in middle school because I was afraid of touching my eyeball (I mean, I still kind of am, but I am hoping once faced with the situation of needing to touch it, I can man up and do it) but now, I am more afraid of the unknown.  Let me explain.  I know I am decent looking with glasses - not attractive, but not burning-your-eyes-with-my-ugliness.  BUT, I have never seen myself without my glasses.  I have no idea.  NONE.  So there is a SLIGHT possibility I could be more attractive without them, but that is a two way street and I could also be less attractive with them.  AND I DON'T WANT THAT.  I need that small sliver in my head that I could be more attractive.  I hang on to that every day to get through.  But, I think I am going to try it.  Because I don't have a bangin' body, so I have that to fix if the contacts thing goes to shit.

Also, I have noticed that I have a type.  I didn't think I had one, just attractive.  But I realized I do, it's confidence.  I can tell by the way they walk, they hold themselves, the way their eyebrows are set, everything.  They have to elude confidence.  Don't know why I like that, just do.

LAST DAMN THING I WANT TO TALK ABOUT (sorry for all the swearing, by the way.  I'm just slightly upset with myself that it is 10 o'clock and I have about 9 pages of papers to write and I haven't done ANYTHING.  they are due tomorrow night.  I am so dumb).  So here it goes.  I had never realized that even the best of us get hurt.  Honestly.  Just let that sink in.  That statement - EVEN THE BEST OF US GET HURT SOMETIMES.  Will Smith probably has a down day once and a while.  Will Smith.  So the other day when Connor told me he was upset over some boy, it hit me like .. well, like brick that was chucked at my face and I made no notion to duck or get out of its way.  I was in complete shock that he was upset over some guy.  SOME GUY.  That is my job.  I am the ugly, untalented, less smart friend in this friendship, not Connor.  I never even thought to think (...what) that super successful people, like Connor, could get bummed out over the most trivial things.  Just makes me ponder the fact that we are all human.  We all have our good days and our bad days.  We all get bummed out over boys, girls, giraffes, whatever your deal is.  We all do embarrassing things, have our ticks, say dumb shit.  And we all are human.

Dear Eugene

I want to share a bathroom with you and walk in on you while you're brushing your teeth and catch a smile in the mirror as toothpaste rolls down your lips which reminds me of last night and I want to sit on a grassy hill in July after a rain with the back of my head on the top of your thigh and your hand running through my hair listening to Winehouse blues as your hand is also running through my mind and I want to compliment your hand and you'll just laugh at me but I mean it I always mean it your hand is my favorite part of your body but I still get butterflies when you lift up your arms to pull off your shirt socks pants and I'm blushing but it's okay just like your cheeks when you're having a bad day or you're drunk and either way I want to hold your cheeks so tightly you forget about everything else because the smell reminds you of the first time we shared a bed together I want to cry when I have to sleep alone recoil as you walk out the door every morning completely paralyzed when I haven't heard from you all day because it's like before I met you and then when I wake up at 3AM all I want to see is your god-given hair that just covers your beautiful grey eyes because I want to love you that much.

what I'd like to know

I know that really only Connor reads this blog.  And that's fine.  It's a place for our secrets.  Secrets like: I am writing this alone in my house, without my bra on, feeling the way my stomach skin rolls under my tiny breasts, listening to the song Autumn Leaves.   Or the way I piece myself together so no one knows how I'm really feeling.  Or what I am thinking.  Or how I don't ever want someone to break down my walls, and how I lead most people to believe they have.  Or that I hate being taken for granted.  I am worth something, even if no one tells me I am.  I don't need anyone to tell me that, even if it would be nice to hear once, rather than how I piss you off, or how I'm a cunt, or the worst sister ever, or a poor student, or that I don't care.  Because, little do you know, I do care.  That's all I do.  I don't know what else to do but care.  I'm just wired that way.  If only you could look in my mind: there would be lots of images of attractive men, hateful thoughts of my untoned body, past memories, thoughts of delicious food, useless memorized lyrics, and wonderings about how you are doing.  Yes, you.  Surprise, I do care about you, all the time.  But here's what I'd like to know, where and when.  Where and when am I going to finally going to get my shit together and leave this place.  Go somewhere warm, start off new.  Not know anyone.  Find out who I am, and see who really does care about me.  I'll do it, eventually, just where and when.  The two unknowns.

Purge

I'm emotionally bulimic. Or anorexic. I donno. This metaphor isn't working. I mean I can coast for days without feeling any emotion other than pleasantly neutral, and then at the end of the week I scramble to get all my feelings down at once. Like right now, I'm furious at myself for putting off my essay, I'm disappointed in some of my closest friends, and I'm super anxious to meet new people in the coming weeks. And all of this is keeping me from getting anything done actually, because I didn't deal with it gradually like I should have. I could have spent hours this week dealing with shit, but I didn't, I coasted, because it was comfortable. And now inevitably some of the pent up emotions are going to go unresolved, ever, because ain't nobody got time to solve all my life crises in one night while new ones pile on. What is wrong with me.

ps. I concur, Molly. Dave Franco the sexiest thing alive.

reflection on last post

I APOLOGIZE, CONNOR.  I know you need to make a post sometime, but I need to say this real fast.

I was reflecting on my last post about needing to find a creepy man to swoon over me.  And in all seriousness, I thought it would be a good idea.  I would love to be treated like the greatest thing to ever walk this Earth.  You know, until I watched this youtube video with Dave Franco, who, let me tell you, is one of the most delicious men you will ever lay your eyes on.  I was in absolute shock.  I can't do it.  Nope.  I'll give you the premise of the video.  He was playing Would You Rather with this woman and she is apparently a good friend of his.  But he finds out that choosing an option in the game becomes true.  So to prove it to her he gives her two scenarios, one that includes having sex with this nerdy man.  And she chooses that option and it flashes to her having sex with him.  Later they realize they are in love with one another and they begin to fool around in bed.  UM HELLO.  THE DIFFERENCE IS DISTURBING.  So, I have concluded that I would rather be alone than with a creepy man.  Don't touch me, unless you are at the level of this sexy man or above.  That is all.  I will post the link to the video I am talking about so you can all see what I mean.  And if you don't agree, then you are no friend of me and Dave Franco, my future husband.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfCp1QKzOSs

the mind is a dangerous place

today was a good awakening. I mean, fuck, I know I'm ugly - but when people don't have the decency to .. I don't even know. I get pissed when people lie to me and tell me I'm pretty, because I'm not. but I get pissed when people call me ugly. because, dude, I know that my face isn't the easiest thing to look at, and that my body isn't up to par, you don't have to tell me. you're wasting your breath. and then my emotions flare. like, damn, don't come up to my face and tell me my tits are small and my face is jank. everyone who has ever met me knows that. everyone. so you don't have to say anything, asshole. all I want to do is break off your nasty-ass jaw and shove it up your prestigious asshole. ... you know, I just need to find a really ugly man, who thinks I am a goddess and treats me like one. be prepared, creepy ugly guys, cause I'm coming for ya.

sometimes I wonder

what the hell am I doing?
why do I have so much emotional investment? I get so involved in everything. everything. people, ideas, dreams, goals, nothing is safe. when I find something that I connect with, you can't stop me from investing in it. no matter what it is. no matter how much energy or time it drains me of. I can't help it. and as much as I don't want to connect with it, it just happens. out of my control. I wish it was like a switch. I could turn it on when I wanted and off when I wished for it to disappear. out of sight. out of mind.

Jeans (Michael)

Hey there folks--when last we met I was tottering on the cusp of mental breakdown after spending seventy-four days in Abu Dhabi trying to understand what was wrong with my penis. Pretty much.

It's been seventy-four days since then, and I've learned something. There's the word androgyne, which is related to the word androgynous, which I used to think was the same as hydrogenous, but which actually is just a combination of Greek roots for male and female (Andro=man, e.g. android, Gyne=woman, e.g. gynecologist). And I hate to give myself such a label, because really there's nothing ultimately worse for queer equality than to keep adding letters to the old LGBT(+T+Q+Q+I+A+A+P), no matter how damn precise you try to get it. I don't want to be in my own little compartment, and I don't want to have to give away a whole new compartment every time someone else discovers that they're different. I identify as queer, yes, and I suppose if pressed I could tell you my species is androgyne, maybe, but even that I'm not sure about, especially after the roller coaster of the past 148+ days; how the hell should I know?

So I just want you to know that our genders are not so different between us all. You might say that everyone is born with one, and its God and its nature, and however you slice it they're diametric and it's somehow dialectic, but I just want you to know that I disagree, and to believe otherwise I wouldn't be betraying anyone but myself. I don't know what's going on in your mind and your genitals, but I listen to what's going on in mine. Nature doesn't believe in straight lines, humans do. If you really love someone, and they love you, go for it. What could matter more than that?