i don’t know what else to say…

i wear the red glasses in an attempt to forget about the real world. i wear them because they make everything feel like a foreign art film. thursday was east germany. friday was france. my problems feel less like “problems” and more like plotlines if i can just transport myself to another country in another time frame where everything is slightly sepia-toned to deal with them. the thing with problems-as-plotlines is that i try to use my magical glasses to visualize solutions to whatever issues i may have fabricated.

no matter how i try, i am still not psychic. no matter how i think my little red art film will end, i still can’t know for sure. i hate that. i’m sick of not knowing, and i’m sick of not being sure. it’s not even so much that i don’t know how my story will end; i don’t really care about that. i’d just like to be able to tie up a few of these loose storylines.

i slipped the glasses on significantly yesterday, purposefully; usually it’s just an escape. along with being pretty, sometimes i wear them to think. he stopped by work. that’s very un-specific. there are a few hes right now. this he, however, has just been sitting in the microwave of my mind, beeping once in a while to remind me that he’s in there. that i should take him out, test the temperature, take a taste, take a chance.

i run into this particular he at presumably random times. we met randomly, connected on a strange coincidence. just seeing him for a few sparce moments at varying intervals always manages to make me retardedly happy. and he always manages to appear when i need him to the most. whenever my life is going to shit he swoops in, grins, and makes me feel better without doing much at all. every so often, he beeps in… reminding me he’s in there.

in the course of five minutes on friday, i managed to change it all. i said in thirty seconds what i had been thinking for three years. and neither of us had time to discuss it. i’m tearing my hair out… i don’t know how long the next interval will be, what either of us thought about what was said… for christ’s sake, i don’t even know his last name.

i feel like maybe i’m trying to conjure him up or something. because of him, my life’s going nuts, and that means that he’s supposed to swoop–beep–in and make me smile some more, right?

i’m kim-FUCKING-diesel. i don’t get stupid over boys. the end. doesn’t happen. but it’s happening. and i don’t know how i feel about it.

it is nearly 11.30.
i just got home.
i have to be up for work at 4.30… a mere five hours away.

i am sobbing.
uncontrolably, heaving, it-hurts-my-head-to-cry-so-hard sobbing.
i am forced to ask myself once again:
why was it okay for this to happen when i was five? why, as an “adult,” do i need an excuse to cry alone in a dark room?

i’m kind of glad my roommate’s not in tonight.
i hate trying to justify this.
to anyone… myself at the top of that list.

people only cry if they have something to cry about.
i have nothing to cry about.
i’m not unhappy… i’m not happy, either, but unhappiness, i think, is a far weightier emotion.
maybe i’m just exhausted from faking it so much this week?

any suggestions? i could go for not feeling like such a waste of human.
just once.

california, what what.

this has the potential to be the greatest and most memorable thanksgiving of my life.
it is mid-terms week.
surviving one is directly correlated to the other.
bought the plane tickets last night.

is now time to start a playlist of travel/california songs. any suggestions?
i wish that typeface represented excitement more effectively.
OMFGLOLZROFLN00B!!111!!!!1#$@

seriously, though… super excited.
wicked excited, even.

get hip on my trip.

boston looks like gotham city today. it is overcast and dreary and everything has that night-all-day-long feeling. it’s rainy, but not raining, and everything is moist. have you ever noticed that about gotham city? every thing is always moist.

i kind of need life to just… stop for a little while. i need a vacation, and i need a warm body in my super-soft bed. i need to take a day off to do nothing but lay in bed naked watching movies and making out with aforementioned warm body.

i hate admitting it, but i sort of did the other day; i want a relationship. true, i don’t believe in love, but i really think that’s more agnostic than anything. i think it improbable, for me at the least, but i also think that there are people who believe that they believe in love. i guess, in a way, i’m looking to be proved wrong.

but, i’m also just looking for the companionship. i want to snuggle, and i want to kiss, and i want to have someone to roll-over and hug in the middle of the night.

at any right, life is going, and depending on the day i’d say it’s going fairly well. evvys has me busy as anything, and i’m still working 25 hours a week at that one place. occasionally i also do homework and eat dinner, but let’s face it… neither of those are priorities.

“i like your raincoat, bitch” costume party at ruby’s this evening. caitlin and i are going as wayne and garth from wayne’s world. pictures to follow, for sure. i think i win just for having the hat. seeing the “wayne’s world” hat perched on my bookshelf just makes me feel kinda cool.

taking a class for my corporate job to learn how to train noobs tomorrow. then we’ll see what the rest of the weekend holds. there are things that i should do, to go with that whole furthering myself in the evvys thing, and then there are things that i want to do… like get caught up on homework and sit on my ass playing nintendo.

the jury is out.

le sigh

i was hit with a pretty sudden bout of depression about an hour before work let out this evening. i wouldn’t say that it was “crippling depression,” because i was still able to function rather normally, but it did hurt pretty bad. still does, actually.

i wish i could say with further certainty just what it is that catalyzes these little spurts. even if it were as simple as, “i’m just fucked up,” whatever it is i want to be able to say it and to believe it.

i want to be able to walk around feeling confident. not just looking like i’m pretending to feel confident, honestly and truly feeling down-to-my-bones sure that i’m a knockout. not just physically, but mentally, emotionally… i want to know what it feels like to walk around feeling like i’m something special. that there is something about me that makes me somehow more extraordinary than any of the people i am walking past.

i want to know what it’s like to feel like i belong in my own skin. most days i feel like i’m some third person looking at the world and my interaction with it. most days i’m as uncomfortable in my blue jeans and t-shirts as i think i would be were i ever to actually wear a skirt. i don’t like the body i’m in, and i don’t like the clothing i hide behind. i don’t like my face, and i don’t like the paints i use on it. i feel so… frumpy. all the time. even when i’m trying to look cute.

i think often about all of the people who have ever gotten on my nerves, or continue to. whenever i am frustrated by someone, i stop to think about why. what was it about my interaction with that person that made me want to pop their head like a pimple? and then, always, my thoughts shift… how many other people am i that person to? how many people deal with me on a daily basis and want to, in turn, pop my head?

adding to the list above, i’d like, someday, to be able to not have everything in my life be poisoned with bitter self-doubt.

and then i’d like to be granted the ability to stop being so fucking selfish all the time and think about someone else for a change. jesus christ, i’m full of shit.

i’m not even a full day into this little break i have from obligations, and already i’m basically bored out of my mind.

my father is many things…

cheif among them being hilarious and adorable.

ran into dante in the park today.
he just makes me so… happy.

i think it’s kind of funny that we only know each other, really, from a shoot i did freshman year (and one that i really only wound up on by pirating dreamweaver from an audio kid), and he still remembers me and we still play catch-up everytime we see each other. he’s such a sweet guy.

i keep asking myself if i shouldn’t let the two-inch height difference get to me, and just ask him out. i still, however, have this mental roadblock up that simply won’t allow me to stop assuming that all men shorter than me will inevitably wind up being douchebags.

“did you just get off of work?”
“yeah…”
“i can’t believe that you still work there.”
“i know, but when you’re convinced that you’re going to college for fame, it’s nice to know that you could feasibly work at a coffee shop for the rest of your life.”
“they do have benifits. so, fame, huh? that sounds interesting.”
“yeah.”
“how do you plan to pull that off?”
“i hadn’t thought about it, actually. i think i’ve just been assuming that i could always fall back on being a rockstar.”
“we’re all rockstars, kimberly. we all are.”

i think he might be one of my life angels, because he always seems to swoop in for a moment just when i need the pick-me-up. i can never explain what’s making me feel off, and when we’re done talking, i can never explain how he made me feel better.

and now… i do stuff.

rain makes me smoke.

the longer i stay away from home, and subsequently my sister’s kids, the harder it gets. it hit me just a few moments ago that my niece, bryce, would be over nine months old by the next time i get to see her.

she already looks so different in these pictures! and yet… so familiar. such a lucky baby; she got all of the best qualities from both parents.

this isn’t enough to get me to move back, by any means, i just really hate not being there for the little things. sadly, it’s the big things that keep me away.

… back to my care packages and letters.