Ok. SO. By 1:30 pm yesterday, I had been awake for something like 40 consecutive hours. Luckily, seminar finished early, so I went home AND SLEPT UNTIL 6 THIS MORNING. Like, I literally walked in, kicked off my knee-high black leather slouch boots, and toppled onto my bed fully clothed. I seriously blacked the fuck out until my alarm went off. Oh the glory of sweet, sweet repose.
I think I seriously need some sleep meds.
Anyway, today was wonderfully productive. After writing this, I'm going to continue the trend and get a stupid Lang assignment done.
One of the things that made today most fabulous was that I not only went to dance class with Philly, but I then proceeded to run a mile (at heavy incline) and then lift weights for an hour. I absolutely adore exercise. I feel skinny and happy and super super endorphin-filled.
Downside? My workout buddy was Fsb. He is, to put it lightly, jacked beyond belief. I mean, due to my ridiculously overfull medical history, I have reasons for lacking in the muscle mass department, but still. Working out with him made me feel like an old, frail, incapable grandmother of three.
Here's the thing with Fsb: he's attractive. His deviousness and complete lack of control (though incredibly twisted) only adds to this in my eyes. However, he has an addictive personality, and that ruins any vision of actual interest in him for me. He's addicted to Qv. More accurately, they're addicted to each other. But Qv is his heroin; there will never be anything that can even compare to it for him.
I may be stupid when it comes to guys, but honestly, do y'all really think I'd fall for someone who could never, ever fully appreciate or love me? DO you really think I'd settle for a boy who'd constantly compare me to someone else? OH HAYULL NO. That shit don't fly. So in the friend zone shall Fsb permanently remain.
But, he bought me coconut water, so I could care less about anything else going on in the world because coconut water is just that danksicknasty good.
In other news, I have been texting Shpongle nonstop since since Saturday. What's really appealing is that not only does he have the typical trifecta of looks that every past boyfriend I've had has (tan skin, dark curly hair, perfect teeth) but he has a job and and a car and a high school diploma.
And oh dear Lord, here I go again. What is it with me and Mediterranean boys?!?
Oh man, I'm in trouble.
Julia
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Finally!
Last night was a night of continuous successes. Like, each consecutive thing that could have gone wrong didn't go wrong. Murphy's Law became my bitch.
The evening began with this stupid banquet thing for the foundation that gives grants to HHS. I got recruited to perform part of my poetry interp piece from last year and I also had to perform with choir. It was weird to my competitive poetry piece in front of a non-forensics audience. Luckily, it went over really well. And then choir was choir.
As soon as the banquet was over, I booked it to my car, picked up Philly, gave her a huge hug because it was her birthday, changed into a slutty black and white rave outfit, donned all my kandi, and met up with Lionboy and Ember to go to a rave.
The rave was Mardi Gras themed. It was at this tiny theater where I've been to tons of shitty little shows before, so my hopes were not incredibly high for the night that lay ahead. When we walked in, my jaw hit the floor. The theater was packed, the balcony was open, and the stage was tricked the fuck out with crazy lightboards and stuff.
I think the 4 hits of acid that Ember gave me helped, too.
But the show was magnificent. It was perfectly sized and the vibes were fantastic all night. No one was fighting or being bitchy or ODing and it seemed like the audience was purely legit ravers. I hate shows where the audience is nothing but bros who are all shitfaced drunk and can't dance.
It was a very non-bro show, which was refreshing.
I did, however, develop a few stalkers... per usual. At every show I always get at least one guy who creeps on me all night and just won't take a hint. Or a "I'm not interested, buddy, back it the fuck up." and they just keep persisting and persisting. Do guys think that following a chick around is attractive or something? It's not.
Luckily, Shpongle was there to save me. Remember him? I danced with him a lot. I really think the kid's got a thing for me, which is fine, because he's absolutely adorable. He also kissed me, so that kind of gave it away...
The rave went until 4, but we left at 3 because at that point people started leaving and all that were left were the e-tards and the dudes still looking for chicks to bring home.
I still left the theater with an ornate sense of satisfaction. Last night's rave was the way raves are SUPPOSED to be: good vibes, tons of people, tons of dancing. I was back with the original rave crew, plus all of my rave friends from the various past few shows I've been too were all there, and I saw a bunch of my buddies from over the summer, too. It was a good night.
No crazy drama, no Ember being flaky, no sketchiness, no police.
FINALLY. A SIMPLY GOOD NIGHT. IT'S BEEN SO LONG.
Unfortunately, I spent all day on Tumblr so I have a mountain of homework to do before school tomorrow, so I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight.
How was you weekend?
Julia
The evening began with this stupid banquet thing for the foundation that gives grants to HHS. I got recruited to perform part of my poetry interp piece from last year and I also had to perform with choir. It was weird to my competitive poetry piece in front of a non-forensics audience. Luckily, it went over really well. And then choir was choir.
As soon as the banquet was over, I booked it to my car, picked up Philly, gave her a huge hug because it was her birthday, changed into a slutty black and white rave outfit, donned all my kandi, and met up with Lionboy and Ember to go to a rave.
The rave was Mardi Gras themed. It was at this tiny theater where I've been to tons of shitty little shows before, so my hopes were not incredibly high for the night that lay ahead. When we walked in, my jaw hit the floor. The theater was packed, the balcony was open, and the stage was tricked the fuck out with crazy lightboards and stuff.
I think the 4 hits of acid that Ember gave me helped, too.
But the show was magnificent. It was perfectly sized and the vibes were fantastic all night. No one was fighting or being bitchy or ODing and it seemed like the audience was purely legit ravers. I hate shows where the audience is nothing but bros who are all shitfaced drunk and can't dance.
It was a very non-bro show, which was refreshing.
I did, however, develop a few stalkers... per usual. At every show I always get at least one guy who creeps on me all night and just won't take a hint. Or a "I'm not interested, buddy, back it the fuck up." and they just keep persisting and persisting. Do guys think that following a chick around is attractive or something? It's not.
Luckily, Shpongle was there to save me. Remember him? I danced with him a lot. I really think the kid's got a thing for me, which is fine, because he's absolutely adorable. He also kissed me, so that kind of gave it away...
The rave went until 4, but we left at 3 because at that point people started leaving and all that were left were the e-tards and the dudes still looking for chicks to bring home.
I still left the theater with an ornate sense of satisfaction. Last night's rave was the way raves are SUPPOSED to be: good vibes, tons of people, tons of dancing. I was back with the original rave crew, plus all of my rave friends from the various past few shows I've been too were all there, and I saw a bunch of my buddies from over the summer, too. It was a good night.
No crazy drama, no Ember being flaky, no sketchiness, no police.
FINALLY. A SIMPLY GOOD NIGHT. IT'S BEEN SO LONG.
Unfortunately, I spent all day on Tumblr so I have a mountain of homework to do before school tomorrow, so I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight.
How was you weekend?
Julia
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
An Explantion As To Why I Look Like An Angry Marshmallow
I spent last night awake. I couldn't sleep no matter how many natural sleep supplement pills I took. I finally fell asleep around 4:30 only to be awoken two hours later by the first phone call.
This morning, I woke up a total of three consecutive times to a total of three consecutive, steadily worsening phone calls from a dear friend in a great deal of emotional turmoil, so despite the fact that the sun had barely even begun to rise, I drove to go check on him.
What I found was not good at all, but he's in the hospital now. That is all I shall say on the matter.
Then I got home, changed clothes, braided my hair, avoided my oblivious parents so that they would not sense that there was anything wrong, and tried my hardest to shut down every part of my brain that was not necessary for functioning. I drove to school, arriving half an hour late.
It was as I was turning into the school parking lot that my self-imposed neural shutdown ceased to be effective. Cue tears in copious amounts.
I am not a crier; this is a sentiment I have shared with you few and foreign followers time and again. I think the mix of sleep deprivation, early morning crisis-aversion, and the fact that I had been late to school when I had promised I wouldn't be all combined and brought on the onslaught of frustrated, terrified, confused tears.
I was not prepared for this latest development. I sat there in the lot trying to stop, if not at least cry more quietly. When I had managed to calm myself down to silent Sparta tears, I decided it was time to face the day, so I went in.
Side note: GHS is a small, gifted school within the larger high school where we take most of our classes. For GHS specifically, there are two separate rooms which are used only by the gifted kids. They're softly lit, cozy, over-sized offices, one each for the main curators of the program, where students can work during study hall or independent study which are perpetually filled with a few students at all times.
It was only after I entered one of these rooms and was asked a simple "How are you?" that I realized that I was not, in fact, quite ready to face the day yet. I couldn't stop myself, the tears came pouring out all over again, this time accompanied by full, unadulterated sobs.
I hate crying in front of people. It makes me look weak and vulnerable, which are two things I am NOT and hate to portray myself as. But here I was, unable to hide the fact
that I was sobbing uncontrollably in front of a good five or so other people.
And then, the strangest thing happened: everyone in the room rushed over and started hugging me and asking if I was ok and what happened. I just wanted to grab the box of tissues and bolt, but I was genuinely touched by how my classmates reacted. At GHS, I'm not particularly close to anyone, and yet they all put aside their immediate tasks and tried to see if I was ok.
I was crying too hard to talk really, but when I choked out that I didn't want to talk about it, everyone just let it be and offered quiet support for me.
At HHS, this would never have happened. First of all, I would have been humiliating myself in front of a full classroom of people seeing as HHS has nothing like the special just-for-GHS rooms. The girls would have looked the other way and whispered to one another and the boys would have glanced at each other with that wide-eyed "Females. Wtf man?" glance while the teacher would have awkwardly handed me a box of tissues and given me the bathroom pass so that I would have an excuse to go clean myself up, even though their real purpose would have been to get me out of the room so that I would have stopped distracting the class.
I would then have had to combat a spray invasive questions and extreme rumors for the rest of the day.
But, luckily, at GHS, everyone just sort of let me be and I was able to make the half hour of work that I missed.
Side note again: I keep finding more and more reasons why I love GHS; the list just won't stop elongating.
Unfortunately, I couldn't stop crying for like, an hour. I think since I cry so rarely, my body was trying to make up for lost time. I was able to stem the flow of tears down to being almost completely gone, but then when Philly came up to the room for our second block independent study, the tears started speeding up again.
I've only ever seen Philly cry once, and it was momentary, so I'm not sure she knew what to do, but she sat by me for a few minutes while I finally got myself in check. I think my tear ducts ran out of tears.
It was then that I realized how adorable (and by adorable I mean bright red, puffy, and make up-less) I must look. I am not a pretty crier. I'm not like, one of those super mucus-y, dry heave-y criers who sort of regress back into being a toddler when they cry. I am also not one of those girls who can look beautifully tragic and can manage to keep their make up from running while they cry.
I do the whole scrunched face, agonized looks thing. My eyes get red, but I generally cover my face and stuff because I don't want people to look at me. This morning, though, I think due to the sheer volume of tears that I managed to squeeze out of my face, my entire face was bright crimson and my cheeks had taken on sort of a swollen look. I looked like an angry marshmallow.
After half an hour, some cold water, and a few generous coats of mascara I looked slightly more human, but I have been rocking a definite puff-factor all day. I think I sprained my tear ducts or something.
Anyway, aside from my ridiculously overemotional morning, the day was lovely and fairly stress-free. I checked in on my friend after school and all is well, or at least better.
Hope your day was infinitely less traumatic than mine,
Julia
This morning, I woke up a total of three consecutive times to a total of three consecutive, steadily worsening phone calls from a dear friend in a great deal of emotional turmoil, so despite the fact that the sun had barely even begun to rise, I drove to go check on him.
What I found was not good at all, but he's in the hospital now. That is all I shall say on the matter.
Then I got home, changed clothes, braided my hair, avoided my oblivious parents so that they would not sense that there was anything wrong, and tried my hardest to shut down every part of my brain that was not necessary for functioning. I drove to school, arriving half an hour late.
It was as I was turning into the school parking lot that my self-imposed neural shutdown ceased to be effective. Cue tears in copious amounts.
I am not a crier; this is a sentiment I have shared with you few and foreign followers time and again. I think the mix of sleep deprivation, early morning crisis-aversion, and the fact that I had been late to school when I had promised I wouldn't be all combined and brought on the onslaught of frustrated, terrified, confused tears.
I was not prepared for this latest development. I sat there in the lot trying to stop, if not at least cry more quietly. When I had managed to calm myself down to silent Sparta tears, I decided it was time to face the day, so I went in.
Side note: GHS is a small, gifted school within the larger high school where we take most of our classes. For GHS specifically, there are two separate rooms which are used only by the gifted kids. They're softly lit, cozy, over-sized offices, one each for the main curators of the program, where students can work during study hall or independent study which are perpetually filled with a few students at all times.
It was only after I entered one of these rooms and was asked a simple "How are you?" that I realized that I was not, in fact, quite ready to face the day yet. I couldn't stop myself, the tears came pouring out all over again, this time accompanied by full, unadulterated sobs.
I hate crying in front of people. It makes me look weak and vulnerable, which are two things I am NOT and hate to portray myself as. But here I was, unable to hide the fact
that I was sobbing uncontrollably in front of a good five or so other people.
And then, the strangest thing happened: everyone in the room rushed over and started hugging me and asking if I was ok and what happened. I just wanted to grab the box of tissues and bolt, but I was genuinely touched by how my classmates reacted. At GHS, I'm not particularly close to anyone, and yet they all put aside their immediate tasks and tried to see if I was ok.
I was crying too hard to talk really, but when I choked out that I didn't want to talk about it, everyone just let it be and offered quiet support for me.
At HHS, this would never have happened. First of all, I would have been humiliating myself in front of a full classroom of people seeing as HHS has nothing like the special just-for-GHS rooms. The girls would have looked the other way and whispered to one another and the boys would have glanced at each other with that wide-eyed "Females. Wtf man?" glance while the teacher would have awkwardly handed me a box of tissues and given me the bathroom pass so that I would have an excuse to go clean myself up, even though their real purpose would have been to get me out of the room so that I would have stopped distracting the class.
I would then have had to combat a spray invasive questions and extreme rumors for the rest of the day.
But, luckily, at GHS, everyone just sort of let me be and I was able to make the half hour of work that I missed.
Side note again: I keep finding more and more reasons why I love GHS; the list just won't stop elongating.
Unfortunately, I couldn't stop crying for like, an hour. I think since I cry so rarely, my body was trying to make up for lost time. I was able to stem the flow of tears down to being almost completely gone, but then when Philly came up to the room for our second block independent study, the tears started speeding up again.
I've only ever seen Philly cry once, and it was momentary, so I'm not sure she knew what to do, but she sat by me for a few minutes while I finally got myself in check. I think my tear ducts ran out of tears.
It was then that I realized how adorable (and by adorable I mean bright red, puffy, and make up-less) I must look. I am not a pretty crier. I'm not like, one of those super mucus-y, dry heave-y criers who sort of regress back into being a toddler when they cry. I am also not one of those girls who can look beautifully tragic and can manage to keep their make up from running while they cry.
I do the whole scrunched face, agonized looks thing. My eyes get red, but I generally cover my face and stuff because I don't want people to look at me. This morning, though, I think due to the sheer volume of tears that I managed to squeeze out of my face, my entire face was bright crimson and my cheeks had taken on sort of a swollen look. I looked like an angry marshmallow.
After half an hour, some cold water, and a few generous coats of mascara I looked slightly more human, but I have been rocking a definite puff-factor all day. I think I sprained my tear ducts or something.
Anyway, aside from my ridiculously overemotional morning, the day was lovely and fairly stress-free. I checked in on my friend after school and all is well, or at least better.
Hope your day was infinitely less traumatic than mine,
Julia
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Greying With The Sun
In Colorado, every year between the dead of winter and the Warmth of spring there's this shitty transitional period when the weather doesn't quite know what to do with itself. Everything's cold and grey and the sun's never out, but there's no snow.
What little remains from the blizzards just sits on the ground unable to melt and everything feels so stationary. It's like just being in a physical and emotional rut for a few months. I hate it.
I went to two parties last night. The first was crazy with loud music and dancing, it was like a garage rave. I knew no one and it was such a sensory overload that I dragged my friend to the other party, which was so laid back that it was boring.
I feel like yesterday amounted to nothing. Usually, after a night out, I feel like I've gained something, be it new friends or funny memories or whatever, but today I feel like there was nothing. Like I just killed time to watch it die.
School feels unfulfilling, love is stupid, and now even parties are blah. I need to find some way to add spice back into my life before it becomes as grey as the world around me.
Blahhh.
Julia
What little remains from the blizzards just sits on the ground unable to melt and everything feels so stationary. It's like just being in a physical and emotional rut for a few months. I hate it.
I went to two parties last night. The first was crazy with loud music and dancing, it was like a garage rave. I knew no one and it was such a sensory overload that I dragged my friend to the other party, which was so laid back that it was boring.
I feel like yesterday amounted to nothing. Usually, after a night out, I feel like I've gained something, be it new friends or funny memories or whatever, but today I feel like there was nothing. Like I just killed time to watch it die.
School feels unfulfilling, love is stupid, and now even parties are blah. I need to find some way to add spice back into my life before it becomes as grey as the world around me.
Blahhh.
Julia
Friday, February 17, 2012
Not My Proudest Moment
Today was absolutely lovely until I managed to get two driving tickets within 20 minutes of each other.
I am so cool.
I hope you can smell the sarcasm.
Looks like I'm going to have to be super duper careful and drive like a grandma 24/7 now.
Not that I wasn't careful before.
But still.
I'm going to go eat an entire chicken pot pie or something.
Julia
I am so cool.
I hope you can smell the sarcasm.
Looks like I'm going to have to be super duper careful and drive like a grandma 24/7 now.
Not that I wasn't careful before.
But still.
I'm going to go eat an entire chicken pot pie or something.
Julia
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Singles' Awareness Day!
Are you single? Are you sure? You need to be aware of these things, you see.
I have eaten nothing but sweets all day. I'm going to go drive on rural roads and look at city lights from afar and smoke a few cigarettes. I think I'll also ponder my existence for little while.
Today, I don't know what I expected. Whatever I thought I'd get, I didn't... aside from 3 metric fuck-tons of chocolate. I figured, if anyone had a thing for me, today would be the day I'd find out.
There are four more hours for someone to let me know. I'd cross my fingers, but I really don't care that much.
On the bright side, I got a valentine with a My Little Pony on it. Nothing like a pony with a rainbow heart stamped on its butt to cheer you up :)
Julia
I have eaten nothing but sweets all day. I'm going to go drive on rural roads and look at city lights from afar and smoke a few cigarettes. I think I'll also ponder my existence for little while.
Today, I don't know what I expected. Whatever I thought I'd get, I didn't... aside from 3 metric fuck-tons of chocolate. I figured, if anyone had a thing for me, today would be the day I'd find out.
There are four more hours for someone to let me know. I'd cross my fingers, but I really don't care that much.
On the bright side, I got a valentine with a My Little Pony on it. Nothing like a pony with a rainbow heart stamped on its butt to cheer you up :)
Julia
Monday, February 13, 2012
Long Night
9:00 PM
I sip hot chocolate while watching Intervention. It's one of those dual episodes where they follow two people at once. Tonight's rerun is an anorexic and a heroin addict. It disturbs me how the behavior of both women profiled is so hauntingly familiar. I realize that after last night's adventures, I'm down to having only six cigarettes. I really need to stop sharing my cigarettes.
10:00 PM
I decide that I should avoid studying and instead take a shower. Showers are very good procrastinatory tools.
11:00 PM
I down 15 mgs of melatonin, which is enough to knock out a fully grown man, light a few candles, and decide to call it a night. I pick up The Fault in Our Stars by John Green and try to read myself to sleep. I wish I could go to bed this early every night.
12:00 AM
This is a very good book. I pause to Facebook a quote from it, then continue to read. Cancer is kind of horrifying. Also horrifying is the fact that despite taking almost twice the maximum dose of melatonin, I am wide awake. I seriously need some prescription sleep meds or something. Or maybe just some industrial strength horse tranquilizers. At this point, I'm not too picky as to what could cure my insomnia.
1:00 AM
It is now evident that sleep is not going to conceivably happen. Luckily, I have this depressing yet magnificently written novel to bide my time. The story is about two kids with cancer who fall in love despite their bodies destroying themselves. The kids are really appreciative and existential; it makes me think that maybe if I had something destroying me, I wouldn't be so inclined to do it myself.
2:00 AM
Food break. All this contemplation of life and death can a girl hungry. I discover that rosemary and olive oil crackers+dab of cream cheese+tiny bit of marinara sauce=weirdly delicious late night feeding material. That's one for the memory bank.
Also, I don't think I like the idea of an afterlife. I know most people find it comforting, but I think oblivion is much more realistic of an expectation. Psh.. realistic is sort of a bad choice of words, I mean, after we die, who are we to decide what's real and what isn't? Maybe life is imaginary part of all of this. Maybe cancer really is just a side effect of being human.
3:00 AM
This book is really, really, really good! Wait, fuck, here come the tears. Damn you, John Green!
4:00 AM
Um. I... I can't even... I'm just going to keep reading.
5:00 AM
I finish the book. It was phenomenal. The proof of this is that I had a pretty steady stream of tears going through the last few chapters, and I am not a cryer, like, ever. Man, John Green can really rip your heart out with the way he writes and the stories he weaves. I think this story in particular hit me hard because I have now lost two friends to cancer and, having had a tumor myself (though not a cancerous one) can sympathize with the hospital-grossness parts. But mostly, it was just a really well-written book.
At this point, I suppose the only thing I can do is blog about my night to kill time until I have to start getting ready for school, which is where the writing of this post comes in. It is right about now that the regret sets in. I probably should have saved the reading for another time and just taken some more melatonin until I passed out. It's going to be a difficult Monday. Oh well.
I wonder if that stupid Anon will say anything today....
Anyway.
I hope you all have tolerable Mondays.
Julia
I sip hot chocolate while watching Intervention. It's one of those dual episodes where they follow two people at once. Tonight's rerun is an anorexic and a heroin addict. It disturbs me how the behavior of both women profiled is so hauntingly familiar. I realize that after last night's adventures, I'm down to having only six cigarettes. I really need to stop sharing my cigarettes.
10:00 PM
I decide that I should avoid studying and instead take a shower. Showers are very good procrastinatory tools.
11:00 PM
I down 15 mgs of melatonin, which is enough to knock out a fully grown man, light a few candles, and decide to call it a night. I pick up The Fault in Our Stars by John Green and try to read myself to sleep. I wish I could go to bed this early every night.
12:00 AM
This is a very good book. I pause to Facebook a quote from it, then continue to read. Cancer is kind of horrifying. Also horrifying is the fact that despite taking almost twice the maximum dose of melatonin, I am wide awake. I seriously need some prescription sleep meds or something. Or maybe just some industrial strength horse tranquilizers. At this point, I'm not too picky as to what could cure my insomnia.
1:00 AM
It is now evident that sleep is not going to conceivably happen. Luckily, I have this depressing yet magnificently written novel to bide my time. The story is about two kids with cancer who fall in love despite their bodies destroying themselves. The kids are really appreciative and existential; it makes me think that maybe if I had something destroying me, I wouldn't be so inclined to do it myself.
2:00 AM
Food break. All this contemplation of life and death can a girl hungry. I discover that rosemary and olive oil crackers+dab of cream cheese+tiny bit of marinara sauce=weirdly delicious late night feeding material. That's one for the memory bank.
Also, I don't think I like the idea of an afterlife. I know most people find it comforting, but I think oblivion is much more realistic of an expectation. Psh.. realistic is sort of a bad choice of words, I mean, after we die, who are we to decide what's real and what isn't? Maybe life is imaginary part of all of this. Maybe cancer really is just a side effect of being human.
3:00 AM
This book is really, really, really good! Wait, fuck, here come the tears. Damn you, John Green!
4:00 AM
Um. I... I can't even... I'm just going to keep reading.
5:00 AM
I finish the book. It was phenomenal. The proof of this is that I had a pretty steady stream of tears going through the last few chapters, and I am not a cryer, like, ever. Man, John Green can really rip your heart out with the way he writes and the stories he weaves. I think this story in particular hit me hard because I have now lost two friends to cancer and, having had a tumor myself (though not a cancerous one) can sympathize with the hospital-grossness parts. But mostly, it was just a really well-written book.
At this point, I suppose the only thing I can do is blog about my night to kill time until I have to start getting ready for school, which is where the writing of this post comes in. It is right about now that the regret sets in. I probably should have saved the reading for another time and just taken some more melatonin until I passed out. It's going to be a difficult Monday. Oh well.
I wonder if that stupid Anon will say anything today....
Anyway.
I hope you all have tolerable Mondays.
Julia
Friday, February 10, 2012
Anon
Dear Anonymous,
I don't know who you are, but you obviously, you know me well enough to know my name and were I really go to school. I don't know whether to be creeped out or pissed off. I know that you emailed the very teacher that I mentioned in my last post with a link to this blog and a statement of concern for me.
Your concern is noted, but it is also unnecessary and unwelcome.
I don't know why you chose to email my teachers, but I can assure you that if you were trying to get a point across, that was a really shitty way to do it. I don't care what your intentions were or who you are to me in real life, your actions were incredibly immature. Since you obviously know me so well, if you had concerns about my behavior or emotional health, you should have come straight to me with those concerns, not gone to the adults in my life who, frankly, don't know a thing about the way I feel and couldn't do anything about it even if they did. Your actions strike me as cowardly, lacking in common courtesy, and shady as fuck.
I don't think you understand why I'm so annoyed, so let me illuminate you: this blog was my sanctuary.
I started it as a place to document my life, express my true feelings when I could do so no other way, and connect with people that I could not connect with otherwise. But you ruined all that with one little email. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm going to stop posting, but now I have to censor myself in the one space where I thought I didn't have to. The fact that I can no longer vent without repercussions is annoying.
Indeed, it is public domain, however, some of the things I write on here are not things I want to share with people I know well. I would never post anything that I couldn't handle doing damage control over if this blog were publicly outed, but I was under the impression that if someone knew I had a blog while knowing me in person as well, that they would at least have the decency to tell me.
I suppose I cannot expect this much from my peers.
Your intervention on my behalf was an intrusion, nothing more. You have not rendered any help, and the fact that my teachers now know that I have a blog will not hinder my continuance of posting on it, so know that whatever your intentions were, unless they were simply to piss me off, they were not achieved.
That being said, I must ask you, Anonymous email sender, with the utmost respect, to please fuck off and keep your nose out of my life.
Sincerely,
Julia
I don't know who you are, but you obviously, you know me well enough to know my name and were I really go to school. I don't know whether to be creeped out or pissed off. I know that you emailed the very teacher that I mentioned in my last post with a link to this blog and a statement of concern for me.
Your concern is noted, but it is also unnecessary and unwelcome.
I don't know why you chose to email my teachers, but I can assure you that if you were trying to get a point across, that was a really shitty way to do it. I don't care what your intentions were or who you are to me in real life, your actions were incredibly immature. Since you obviously know me so well, if you had concerns about my behavior or emotional health, you should have come straight to me with those concerns, not gone to the adults in my life who, frankly, don't know a thing about the way I feel and couldn't do anything about it even if they did. Your actions strike me as cowardly, lacking in common courtesy, and shady as fuck.
I don't think you understand why I'm so annoyed, so let me illuminate you: this blog was my sanctuary.
I started it as a place to document my life, express my true feelings when I could do so no other way, and connect with people that I could not connect with otherwise. But you ruined all that with one little email. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm going to stop posting, but now I have to censor myself in the one space where I thought I didn't have to. The fact that I can no longer vent without repercussions is annoying.
Indeed, it is public domain, however, some of the things I write on here are not things I want to share with people I know well. I would never post anything that I couldn't handle doing damage control over if this blog were publicly outed, but I was under the impression that if someone knew I had a blog while knowing me in person as well, that they would at least have the decency to tell me.
I suppose I cannot expect this much from my peers.
Your intervention on my behalf was an intrusion, nothing more. You have not rendered any help, and the fact that my teachers now know that I have a blog will not hinder my continuance of posting on it, so know that whatever your intentions were, unless they were simply to piss me off, they were not achieved.
That being said, I must ask you, Anonymous email sender, with the utmost respect, to please fuck off and keep your nose out of my life.
Sincerely,
Julia
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Emotional Barf
What the fuck is wrong with me today?
Besides the usual waking-up-late-due-to-incredible-insomnia and likely-seasonal-depression and holy-fucking-shit-I-hate-my-AP-classes stress.
Like, there's more than that. I've just been all over the place today. Like super up and then super down and what's even worse is I've been opening up about my emotional shit to people. Namely, Plb. (nice.) Hella awk-sauce for him, dear God, why did I tell him I've been feeling so shitty lately?
And then, in Lang, I was flirting, like shamelessly, and I kept touching his arm. Looking back, it was super weird of me to do and now he probably thinks I'm an overly touchy emotional basket case. Lovely. (Who am I kidding? Right now, I AM an emotional basket case)
In other news, Shpongle hasn't texted me once today. Am I getting boring to him? I can't be getting boring to him, he's cute! FUCK!
But Mwb has texted me like 8 times and I keep not answering because I kind of never want to to speak to or see him ever again in my life.
God, I hate that Valentine's day is everywhere! It's haunting me and fucking with my brain. I don't need a boy!! But I like one or two of them. This is not the problem. The problem is that I want them to like me back. This is an issue.
No, the problem is that I've eaten like 1500 calories today. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I do that to my body? That's like, 800 more than usual. I'm practically exploding.
I think this is because I haven't had a single cigarette today, which is also a problem. My dad knows I smoke now, which is weird, because I know he disapproves, but he's not doing anything to stop me. As if he could stop me anyway.. Even more sketchy is the fact that one of my teachers at GHS knows I smoke. I've never had a teacher with such an intimate knowledge of my delinquency before, it makes me uncomfortable.
Of course, this is the same teacher for my least-favorite class at GHS, the dreaded seminar class. Seminar is basically career exploration plus college prep plus random 'meaningful' projects and stuff that are supposed to help us explore ourselves. We do a lot of self-evaluations and stuff, and it's all very Kumbaya-let's-hold-hands-and-talk-about-our-feelings which is very much NOT what I look for in a class. But it's a requirement, so whatever. Although, today, when I could have been meeting with the government teacher about an independent study, I wasn't allowed to leave seminar and instead spent that time watching my fellow classmates trying to do stupid task like stacking golf balls and blow a stack of cards off the top of a water bottle.
I mean, seriously? What is the point of that? Why was I forced to participate in pointless toddler party games instead of furthering my academic career? I hate having my time wasted! And now I get my entire 4th block wasted almost completely every day by this stupid, monotonous, meaningless class.
Gah.
On the bright side, my nails are purple. Also, my friend took a picture of me today and I looked really skinny.
Little victories.
I think I'm going to go to the gym to work off some of this pent-up emotional khsdkjshdf. Seriously, it's just a bunch of lksdhf;kadngbi',sd going on in my brain right now.
I think I'll feel better after I run a few miles or something.
Julia
Besides the usual waking-up-late-due-to-incredible-insomnia and likely-seasonal-depression and holy-fucking-shit-I-hate-my-AP-classes stress.
Like, there's more than that. I've just been all over the place today. Like super up and then super down and what's even worse is I've been opening up about my emotional shit to people. Namely, Plb. (nice.) Hella awk-sauce for him, dear God, why did I tell him I've been feeling so shitty lately?
And then, in Lang, I was flirting, like shamelessly, and I kept touching his arm. Looking back, it was super weird of me to do and now he probably thinks I'm an overly touchy emotional basket case. Lovely. (Who am I kidding? Right now, I AM an emotional basket case)
In other news, Shpongle hasn't texted me once today. Am I getting boring to him? I can't be getting boring to him, he's cute! FUCK!
But Mwb has texted me like 8 times and I keep not answering because I kind of never want to to speak to or see him ever again in my life.
God, I hate that Valentine's day is everywhere! It's haunting me and fucking with my brain. I don't need a boy!! But I like one or two of them. This is not the problem. The problem is that I want them to like me back. This is an issue.
No, the problem is that I've eaten like 1500 calories today. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I do that to my body? That's like, 800 more than usual. I'm practically exploding.
I think this is because I haven't had a single cigarette today, which is also a problem. My dad knows I smoke now, which is weird, because I know he disapproves, but he's not doing anything to stop me. As if he could stop me anyway.. Even more sketchy is the fact that one of my teachers at GHS knows I smoke. I've never had a teacher with such an intimate knowledge of my delinquency before, it makes me uncomfortable.
Of course, this is the same teacher for my least-favorite class at GHS, the dreaded seminar class. Seminar is basically career exploration plus college prep plus random 'meaningful' projects and stuff that are supposed to help us explore ourselves. We do a lot of self-evaluations and stuff, and it's all very Kumbaya-let's-hold-hands-and-talk-about-our-feelings which is very much NOT what I look for in a class. But it's a requirement, so whatever. Although, today, when I could have been meeting with the government teacher about an independent study, I wasn't allowed to leave seminar and instead spent that time watching my fellow classmates trying to do stupid task like stacking golf balls and blow a stack of cards off the top of a water bottle.
I mean, seriously? What is the point of that? Why was I forced to participate in pointless toddler party games instead of furthering my academic career? I hate having my time wasted! And now I get my entire 4th block wasted almost completely every day by this stupid, monotonous, meaningless class.
Gah.
On the bright side, my nails are purple. Also, my friend took a picture of me today and I looked really skinny.
Little victories.
I think I'm going to go to the gym to work off some of this pent-up emotional khsdkjshdf. Seriously, it's just a bunch of lksdhf;kadngbi',sd going on in my brain right now.
I think I'll feel better after I run a few miles or something.
Julia
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Affirmation of Life
It is an unparalleled feeling one gets walking into a commercial concert hall. I'm not saying rock or rave venue, I'm talking a really huge, acoustically magnificent, architecturally awe-inspiring classical concert hall. As in, a place where symphonies play and operas are performed, not where DJs play and raunchy gogos perform.
I am no stranger to concert halls and huge theaters, having performed in many of the ones in Denver's Performing Arts Complex myself. The few I have not performed in, well, I've seen performances in them. But I've performed in all of the big ones. Man, I really miss dancing with a company... But this is besides the point.
The point is that tonight, clad in an adorable floral dress and shiny patent heels, after eating at Sam's No. 3 Diner (which was apparently featured on the Food Network like 8 times), I walked into the Wells Fargo Theater and was once again filled with the childlike sense of joy and wonderment that one can only attribute to coming from entering holy spaces.
I was there to see the high school All State Choir with my buddy because a lot of my friends from choir were in it this year. I, having sort of bombed my audition, held no bitterness towards the whole thing, and was rather excited to see the final concert.
There was a women's choir, mixed choir, and men's choir, who performed in that order and were respectively positioned based on awesomeness. The women's choir was very good, but the mixed choir was absolutely fantastic because the combination of male and female voices created much more depth and resonance. However, the men's choir was absolutely phenomenal. There was a soloist during their last song who absolutely floored me.
The thing about choral music (when done well, of course) is that, unlike orchestral music, the sound creates sort of a pocket of resonance, which envelops you and then spits you out as the songs dynamically change. Choral music is literally moving. I don't know how to describe it, really, it's like a huge instrument made of voices that the conductor is playing. When a choir is as good as the ones that I listened to tonight, the sound becomes almost metaphysical; as if it is an entity in itself.
So there I sat, lost in a modern arrangement of Mozart's Credo and without even really realizing it, my faith in humanity was beginning to restore. The fact that a bunch of high school kids had enough talent to produce such a sound brought my expectations of my fellow man up a few notches. In short, human existance was reaffirmed for me by music.
This is why I do what I do. Sure, I'm a raver kid and I can dig a heavy metal concert, but nothing moves my soul like classical music performed by committed performers in a large concert hall with heavenly acoustics.
In all honesty, tonight's performance was a shining example of the success that can be made when people neglect political correctness along with others' sensitivities and short comings and only choose to accept and work with the best of the best. By only skimming the top of the talent, the results were magnificent. Yes, some hearts were broken when my friends (myself included) had found out that they (we) hadn't made the cut.
I don't care now.
After seeing what the results were, I realize now that by including anyone short of incredible, the end performance wouldn't have been as wondrous as it was.
I hate that society feels the need to make the dumb and untalented feel accepted when it, by allowing them into whatever institution they are allowed into, makes the products of the institution lessen in quality. It's stuck up and completely vicious, but speaking as one who is intelligent, very talented, and sick of being held back and dumbed down for the stupid kids, it is how I feel.
This is why I want to go to Harvard. I want to be with the best because the best people produce the most astounding things. All I want is the positive affirmation of my life; by producing the most incredible things, my life will be affirmed in ways that the mediocre lack the capacity to even dream of. The elite, though not perfect by any semblance, deserve to be separated from the cattle.
Shit, I've been reading too much Nietzsche again...
Julia
I am no stranger to concert halls and huge theaters, having performed in many of the ones in Denver's Performing Arts Complex myself. The few I have not performed in, well, I've seen performances in them. But I've performed in all of the big ones. Man, I really miss dancing with a company... But this is besides the point.
The point is that tonight, clad in an adorable floral dress and shiny patent heels, after eating at Sam's No. 3 Diner (which was apparently featured on the Food Network like 8 times), I walked into the Wells Fargo Theater and was once again filled with the childlike sense of joy and wonderment that one can only attribute to coming from entering holy spaces.
I was there to see the high school All State Choir with my buddy because a lot of my friends from choir were in it this year. I, having sort of bombed my audition, held no bitterness towards the whole thing, and was rather excited to see the final concert.
There was a women's choir, mixed choir, and men's choir, who performed in that order and were respectively positioned based on awesomeness. The women's choir was very good, but the mixed choir was absolutely fantastic because the combination of male and female voices created much more depth and resonance. However, the men's choir was absolutely phenomenal. There was a soloist during their last song who absolutely floored me.
The thing about choral music (when done well, of course) is that, unlike orchestral music, the sound creates sort of a pocket of resonance, which envelops you and then spits you out as the songs dynamically change. Choral music is literally moving. I don't know how to describe it, really, it's like a huge instrument made of voices that the conductor is playing. When a choir is as good as the ones that I listened to tonight, the sound becomes almost metaphysical; as if it is an entity in itself.
So there I sat, lost in a modern arrangement of Mozart's Credo and without even really realizing it, my faith in humanity was beginning to restore. The fact that a bunch of high school kids had enough talent to produce such a sound brought my expectations of my fellow man up a few notches. In short, human existance was reaffirmed for me by music.
This is why I do what I do. Sure, I'm a raver kid and I can dig a heavy metal concert, but nothing moves my soul like classical music performed by committed performers in a large concert hall with heavenly acoustics.
In all honesty, tonight's performance was a shining example of the success that can be made when people neglect political correctness along with others' sensitivities and short comings and only choose to accept and work with the best of the best. By only skimming the top of the talent, the results were magnificent. Yes, some hearts were broken when my friends (myself included) had found out that they (we) hadn't made the cut.
I don't care now.
After seeing what the results were, I realize now that by including anyone short of incredible, the end performance wouldn't have been as wondrous as it was.
I hate that society feels the need to make the dumb and untalented feel accepted when it, by allowing them into whatever institution they are allowed into, makes the products of the institution lessen in quality. It's stuck up and completely vicious, but speaking as one who is intelligent, very talented, and sick of being held back and dumbed down for the stupid kids, it is how I feel.
This is why I want to go to Harvard. I want to be with the best because the best people produce the most astounding things. All I want is the positive affirmation of my life; by producing the most incredible things, my life will be affirmed in ways that the mediocre lack the capacity to even dream of. The elite, though not perfect by any semblance, deserve to be separated from the cattle.
Shit, I've been reading too much Nietzsche again...
Julia
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Allow Me To Explain
I am strong, I am single, yada yada yada you know.
We strong independent women aren't strong all the time; our unwavering commitment to ourselves is not always so unwavering...
SOOOOOOO I had a moment of weakness and desperation last night.
Let be clear: this was pure and complete desperation for free alcohol and a sure-thing one night stand.
But, I ended up at Mwb's house, getting drunk and watching the Lakers kill the Nuggets on TV, even though the actual game was happening not even 5 minutes away at the Pepsi Center.
After the game ended, we walked through the epically abundant falling snow. The sky was still all lavender and the snow looked like glitter and by that point in had piled up to about 2 and 1/2 feet high, and despite it being freezing outside, the world was beautiful.
However, that was basically the only redeeming part of the evening.
After another night with Mwb, I have confirmed for myself that I can do SO much better. And I have! My momentary regression into the desperate state that led me to his door has been cured. I don't think there's too much more of a future for the me/Mwb story.
I am now compelled to pursue much hotter boys and have much better sex [which, let's be honest, won't be that hard]
Though I'm not proud of my momentary weakness, I think it led to a series of valuable realizations:
-I need to set higher standards for the boys I choose to fuck around with
-Shpongle needs to be my next conquest, though I doubt he will pose much of a challenge
-I sincerely enjoy watching basketball on TV... I should do that more often
-Valentine's day ain't got shit on me
-I am single for a reason
Sooo yeahhhh.
I'll ease up the romantic/self-reflective posts soon guys, sorry..
Julia
We strong independent women aren't strong all the time; our unwavering commitment to ourselves is not always so unwavering...
SOOOOOOO I had a moment of weakness and desperation last night.
Let be clear: this was pure and complete desperation for free alcohol and a sure-thing one night stand.
But, I ended up at Mwb's house, getting drunk and watching the Lakers kill the Nuggets on TV, even though the actual game was happening not even 5 minutes away at the Pepsi Center.
After the game ended, we walked through the epically abundant falling snow. The sky was still all lavender and the snow looked like glitter and by that point in had piled up to about 2 and 1/2 feet high, and despite it being freezing outside, the world was beautiful.
However, that was basically the only redeeming part of the evening.
After another night with Mwb, I have confirmed for myself that I can do SO much better. And I have! My momentary regression into the desperate state that led me to his door has been cured. I don't think there's too much more of a future for the me/Mwb story.
I am now compelled to pursue much hotter boys and have much better sex [which, let's be honest, won't be that hard]
Though I'm not proud of my momentary weakness, I think it led to a series of valuable realizations:
-I need to set higher standards for the boys I choose to fuck around with
-Shpongle needs to be my next conquest, though I doubt he will pose much of a challenge
-I sincerely enjoy watching basketball on TV... I should do that more often
-Valentine's day ain't got shit on me
-I am single for a reason
Sooo yeahhhh.
I'll ease up the romantic/self-reflective posts soon guys, sorry..
Julia
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Snowing Like Fuck
The sky is the color of a tulip.
The night sky is supposed to be deep blue, or indigo, or black, not lavender. Yuck!
Anyway, the district has announced that tomorrow will be a snow day tomorrow due to the fact there are 17 inches of snowfall expected by 6 am, and the snow is expected to persist until late tomorrow night.
Finally, a real blizzard! It's been years since we've had a good, solid blizzard that left more than a foot of snow on the ground. I'm almost excited. This means not only an extra day to finally catch up on sleep but a potentially more fun-filled weekend.
Despite my position as a dedicated singleton (see previous post), I think tomorrow would be a lovely day for a date. Not a relationship-y date, I mean like a cute day to hang out and then finish with cozy fireside sex. In an ideal and utopian world, of course, which is not the world I live in.
There may be hope, seeing as Mwb has already texted me asking about my plans for tomorrow. So is this other boy, Shpongle, whom I have deemed as such because when I met him he was wearing a Shpongle t-shirt. Unfortunately, both kiddos live in Denver, which will be nearly impossible to get to tomorrow because the roads will be so shitty.
Pathologicalliarboy (Plb now) has also been sort of coming back around. Today he seemed to be showing more interest in me than usual, although I think he's planning on re-asking out the girl from AP Lang. Whatever, I don't want anything serious right now anyways, I'm just in a snow-nostalgia-Valentine's Day-proximity-induced funk.
This is probably being fueled by the fact that the last memorable snow day I can recall was two Marches ago, and I spent the day sledding with Ex-not-Now at this huge hill near his neighborhood in Boulder. That was the day I kissed him for the first time...
Motherfucker. the snow is making me all sentimental and shit. I need to stop.
Julia
The night sky is supposed to be deep blue, or indigo, or black, not lavender. Yuck!
Anyway, the district has announced that tomorrow will be a snow day tomorrow due to the fact there are 17 inches of snowfall expected by 6 am, and the snow is expected to persist until late tomorrow night.
Finally, a real blizzard! It's been years since we've had a good, solid blizzard that left more than a foot of snow on the ground. I'm almost excited. This means not only an extra day to finally catch up on sleep but a potentially more fun-filled weekend.
Despite my position as a dedicated singleton (see previous post), I think tomorrow would be a lovely day for a date. Not a relationship-y date, I mean like a cute day to hang out and then finish with cozy fireside sex. In an ideal and utopian world, of course, which is not the world I live in.
There may be hope, seeing as Mwb has already texted me asking about my plans for tomorrow. So is this other boy, Shpongle, whom I have deemed as such because when I met him he was wearing a Shpongle t-shirt. Unfortunately, both kiddos live in Denver, which will be nearly impossible to get to tomorrow because the roads will be so shitty.
Pathologicalliarboy (Plb now) has also been sort of coming back around. Today he seemed to be showing more interest in me than usual, although I think he's planning on re-asking out the girl from AP Lang. Whatever, I don't want anything serious right now anyways, I'm just in a snow-nostalgia-Valentine's Day-proximity-induced funk.
This is probably being fueled by the fact that the last memorable snow day I can recall was two Marches ago, and I spent the day sledding with Ex-not-Now at this huge hill near his neighborhood in Boulder. That was the day I kissed him for the first time...
Motherfucker. the snow is making me all sentimental and shit. I need to stop.
Julia
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