holy shit. edible glitter. who’da thunk it?

apparently, whomever it was that donated the cake to the evvy office. there’s glitter on it, and i was fairly certain that wasn’t legal.

so i googled it.

jane says, i’m done with sergio

sleep-ruining random bed-squeak: 0
kim, the fuckingsuperamazingateverything… girl: 1

i am the bed-squeak annihilator. apparently bed-squeak is my room’s way of saying “rearrange the furniture, bitch.” glad that’s over. it’s been a rough coupl’a nights. and it’s nice to have an actual chair at my desk again. maybe this will be more conducive to, y’know, working.

… and stuff.

man, itunes… you and i have been spot on lately. it’s a good thing that this week is already looking to feel (musically) better than last week. changes in season always fuck me up.

hey now, hey now, now, sing this corrosion to me…

sweet jesus, there simply is nothing better than ten minute long eighties songs. once this is over, i think i’ll hunt down tainted love.

and fold laundry, and find the vacuum, and do homework, and maybe, like, sleep or something.

i miss my life.

life ain’t easy for a boy named sue

it’s that time again. what-the-fuck-am-i-going-to-do-with-my-electives-next-semester time. there are a few classes that i really want to take, but they’re only open to freshman. it sucks that i wasn’t lucky enough to be placed in them. classes with names such as “love and eroticism” and “art? history?”. no… i had to get fucking “caribbean imagination” with fucking flora gonzalez. dumb class. dumbdumbdumb.

i’ve only one class to fill for next semester, and i could fill it with another media class, but that would throw off my little schedule i have sitting here next to me. and really, i want to branch out. to not learn something related to media for a little while.

i say that now. i also say now that i really don’t want to take this damned ethics course. however, i have decided that my literary gen ed simply must be fulfilled by “slipstream literature.” score one for reading all kinds of freaky shit for class.

rawrrrrr… i wish i were more decisive.

snakes on a motherfucking plane…

i can’t believe this movie is actually being made. and i can’t believe how much it’s going to gross from cynical college students such as my roommate, her boyfriend, and myself.

the long awaited teaser-trailer has been released. “enough is enough. i’ve had it with these snakes.”

why, sam jackson… why?

this, folks, is my future. it’s laughing at me.

shake ya ass, but watch y’self

neon green wig and boston hat with clover = bigger st paddy’s day hit than i’d expected, working in the financial district and all.

“this is bullshit. where is everyone? i was drunk last night, too, and i made it here this morning.”
“but weren’t you late?”
“shut up. that wasn’t my point.”
-tyler and myself, respectively, on why there was barely anyone at evvy auditions

i just ate an entire sleeve of thin mints. my soul feels better for it, even if that whole “diet” thing doesn’t.

roommate’s birthday is on thursday, and i’ve no idea what to do for/get her. rawr for being poor and totally not creative.

i need to do laundry… like whoa. i also need to get some more miles on those mixtapes (you can still hop onboard if you’d like) and try to burn through next week’s homework.

and i’m off.

“what’s the difference between art and pornography? porn is in focus!” – video field prof.

i knew i belonged at this school.

… we now return to kim’s regularly scheduled all-night-paper-writing-extravaganza.

fuck yeah, george clooney!

warning: none of this really makes any sense.

my splurge this week will be a corned beef and cabbage dinner for friday. i am well aware that this will be a special occasion, and that i really shouldn’t be splurging at all, but i also have had a very strong urge to get b—-’s book of poetry that he told me about almost a year and a half ago. i’ve been meaning to purchase it since, because i’m always in for supporting my friends in their ventures, and at $15.94 after shipping it seems like a reasonable gift to myself. i feel like a jerk for having not jumped on it when i wanted to, and i feel kind of dumb for being so poor as to not be able to afford a book. besides still considering him a friend (even if he has gone in to hiding), he’s a really good writer, and i actually do want to read it.

emma-face did something really nice for me today. now, i know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but keep in mind that nice things don’t happen to me very often. never do i get a surprise gift, and i’m okay with that. i work hard to help myself and i bend over backwards to help my friends because i want to. i don’t expect to be noticed for anything i do, and i’m not, and i actually kind of like it that way.

i’m the girl who cancels her birthday because i can’t stand the thought of people feeling obligated to get me something. i’ve tried to cancel christmas for the same reasons, to no avail. my parents have long been upset around those two times of year that they couldn’t offer my sister and i “nicer” things in greater quantities. while i know that their feelings stemmed from the same brainwave that my not wanting useless shit comes from, i think that my development of that mentality stemmed from feeling that they thought they could solve our problems with.. stuff.

actually, come to think of it, i’m really glad that my family is so poor and that i didn’t grow up with nice things. it’s forced me to accept any job i’m given, regardless of the glory, and do it as best i can… because, i know that i’m lucky to have any job at all. it has given me the strength to stand up to people who think that money and designer whatever measures their worth and mine. it has offered me the ability to see through people to who they are, and while it may have given me fewer friends, it has made me cherish those i have even more. it has shed me of the shame some people have about wearing hand-me-downs or clothes from the goodwill.

i’m not always happy to be poor, but i know that it’s taught me a lot. there are times when i’m certain that having more money will solve the majority of my problems, because with things like apartments and school loans, it will. i still dream of fame.

… where was i going with this?

anyway… emma-face was very awesome to me today. and it made me cry. thankfully, i was taking out the trash while i was crying, so jo-jo couldn’t laugh at me.

there’s a full moon tonight. i knew there was a reason for my feeling pretty decent all day.

but, fuck, do i have a lot of (home) work to do.

after dreaming of a michigan storm all last night, i think i just heard thunder in boston.

i may sleep well for the first time in this city tonight.

dear diary… what’s wrong with me?

food is necessary for existence. (or eXistenZ, if you want a bad movie reference.)

… this is a concept i have had a hard time grasping (we’re back to the food, not the movie), and an even harder time accepting. i am, by all scientific definitions, overweight, but i feel so much fatter than ‘overweight.’ i’ve heard enough people claim that “you don’t really look that bad,” but when i look in the mirror, all i see is the mom from what’s eating gilbert grape staring back at me.

i’ve had my bouts with attempted anorexia. they all ended with me more annoyed with myself than i was when they started, because i was weak, and i couldn’t even handle not eating for any recognisable amount of time. it’s still a tempting thought, and i do still skip meals. i don’t as blatantly skip out on lunch as often as i did in high school, but i will occasionally try to keep it to one balanced lunch a day and a small dinner.

i’ve contemplated, more than once, the appeal of bulemia. what that really boils down to is i hate puking too much to force myself to do it. i’m sure if i did it enough, i’d grow more tolerant of the act. but as it stands now, i hardly ever get ill, even less often do i get vomiting-ill. my body just… can’t stand puking.

there are times, however, when i simply forget-slash-don’t-have-time to eat. these are the times when i catch myself getting nauseous or light-headed because i haven’t eaten more than a bag of popcorn in over thirty hours, and i have drunk no amount of water that i can remember.

i have very large self-esteem issues. surprise. anyone that’s talked to me for more than two seconds knows that. but even that fact about myself annoys me. i’m not strong enough to handle whatever i don’t like about me. i’m not strong enough to keep it all to myself. i manage to keep some of it away, but frankly, not enough.

i hate myself. for how i look, for how i act, for who i am… but mostly, for being all that, and being visibly weak about it.

i hate that there are so many people in the world and in my life that can handle their own shit. they live the world alone, and hardly ever need anyone else’s advice. and they seem decently content doing it, too.

me… i’m depressed. and i’m depressed because i’m lame, and because i can’t just be lame alone. maybe that’s a part of my toddler-complex. not only do i crave constant physical contact, i crave constant praise and re-assurance that i’m not fucking everything up.

i’ve fucked up too much already. i’m too young for the volume of suck i’ve created in my life, and in others.

basically… i’m paranoid.

and i hate myself for having detailed it so greatly… to myself.