ugly dividers

My stomach is about to burst.  I've pushed my limits.

I rarely eat anymore.  I do not have any kind of eating disorder.  My body just rejects food.  To put it simply.  If I'm hungry, nothing looks tasty.  Every delicious snack I ever used to enjoy looks gross now.  Tootsie rolls.  Ew.  Chocolate ice cream.  Oof.  Salami sandwiches.  Barf.  Milk products.  Kill me.  I can't take it anymore, agh.  I force myself to eat.  I'm not hungry, really.  If I am, the slightest thing fills me up.  Today, I took it too far.  Now I just wanna throw up and sleep, ha.  I had my favorite subway sandwich (wheat bread, ham, swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, cucumbers, pickles, and oil n' vinegar...the only sandwich my body enjoys) and I was pretty full.  But I was watching my soap, and I finished my sandwich before the show was over..and I needed to keep eating.  Idunno, I have to eat when I watch tv...it's sad.  So I decided to eat these cinnamon donuts my mom bought (like the powder ones, but cinnamon powder...nomnomnom) and I had a glass of milk with it.  It took me about 10 minutes to finally decide to drink the milk.  I knew it would kill me.  but I did it anyway, for those few seconds of deliciousness as the milk washed down the tasty little donuts.  And right after, my stomach was growling and howling.  I was holding it, pissed off at myself.  haha.  then my mom comes home and she's like, "are you ready to go to TGIF?"  and I'm like ugh, yeah.  I can always push myself to eat, which isn't a good thing, really.  So we go, and we get the $5 jack daniels burger, or whatever it was.  It was really good, but fuck, so filling.  By the time I was done, my stomach was turning, screaming at me.  My belt was cutting into my tummy, I wanted to cry, ha.

I don't know what happened to me.  I used to eat like a champ.  And never get full.  And I was hungry, like a normal person.  Something's wrong.  ugh.  Out of all things, why food.  why.

Today's been a really "I'm gonna complain" sort of day.

In photography class, we're building our camera obscura.  Mine is crooked.  In my eyes.  My teacher and everyone else says it's fine, but I see it.  The crookedness.  It really ticks me off.  I've taken my wooden box apart and re-glued it four times already.  And it won't be how I want it to be.  Everyone else says "no, it's fine, it's perfectly square."  I get on my knees and kneel at the desk, eyeing it the whole period.  Re-gluing, cutting, sanding.  I want to throw my box at my teacher and yell "you lied to me!!" hahaha.  I'm going crazy in there.  And I still need to paint it.  goddamnit.  I don't know what I want to paint.  fuck.

My right arm still aches from the flu shot yesterday.  ugh.

And over the weekend, Idunno what the fuck happened, but my right hand's middle finger's nail, around that part of the finger..it's swollen as hell.  Big ol' fingertip.  I stuck a needle close to the nail, into the skin..and squeezed and all this yellow liquid stuff came out.  The people that sat across from me in class were like ewww but I thought it was kind of cool, ha.  I've been squeezing it all day.  Hm.  I don't know what I did to it.  what the hell.

After my mom and I ate, we went to see Surrogates.  It was pretty good.  A bit slow in some parts, but I enjoyed it.  Then we went to Office Depot because I needed to buy a binder and some dividers for photo.  All the dividers were so friggin' ugly.  I was so annoyed.  All white paper with that ugly gold stripe, with ugly colors for the tabs.  I spent 40 minutes in there.  Staring at the dividers.  What happened to all the pretty ones!?  You know, the colorful transparent flippy paper, with pretty tabs.  Cool tabs, cool paper.  what the hell.  I bought some over summer, but they don't have any of those now.  My mom was getting all pissed, and the guy that was helping us kept laughing at me, ha.  I know I have a problem.  A mild case of ocd, or something.  I don't know.  I have some issue.  agh.

I sniff milk before I drink it.  I don't care if it just came from the store, if the person next to me is drinking it.  I have to sniff it.  And I'll make you sniff it.  And try it.  I can't stop.

I don't open my soda cans up all the way.  I click back the tab thingy 'til it's just barely open, enough for me to squeeze the can so some soda comes out.  If someone opens it all the way, especially without asking, I'm mad.

I have to have two ice cubes in my orange juice.

I usually drink all my drinks with both hands.  like a little squirrel.

I never write essays on paper.  If a teacher asks me to, I become really frustrated and get fussy.  and I start to write mean things on the paper.

I have to read the info of whatever I'm watching on tv.  If I don't, I get pissed and don't want to watch.  I can't stand when people won't let me read it, like my mom does sometimes.  I ask her to click info, and she won't, so I'll grab the remote.  I need to know what it's about.

I'm a perfectionist.  I don't "brain storm."  I hate that.  it's stupid.

I have to make sure I've spelled everything correctly.  I hate people who can't spell.  retards.  I have to correct them, or it will bother me.  For hours.

If I edit a picture, I will edit it probably ten different ways.  And compare all of them.  For over an hour.

...I could go on and on.

I don't know what the point of this blog was.  rambling, complaining.

My kitty Ariel is all curled up next to Eeyore.  That's her mom.  She pushes her little paws into it and sucks on the fur.  it's pretty weird, really.  but cute.  and she falls asleep every time.  and her little snoring sounds make me happy.

babygurl.

I'm going to go finish Amazing Race.  and hopefully Tool Academy.

I'm probably gonna have a few more donuts and milk.  ugh, shoot me.  stupid.

my finger's throbbing.

curious?

Oh, I'm nibbling the tips of my fingers.  I've got an urge.

Curious, but stupid.  I seem to choose 'stupid', always.

Ignorant, naive...innocent.  I'm not.

I am not.  Anything.  Nothing.

I trace the outline of my mind, it's a thin..thin line.

Between safety and falling, way over the edge.

I look over, and I tend to wonder..

Intrigued by the possibilities,

of my quiet, gentle downfall.

Safety pins, I'm pinned down.

No, I shouldn't look at it that way.

I've got a net.  Do I?  I'm not sure..

Not sure anymore.  Anymore.

Any safety net of mine never broke a fall.

It only cushioned the pathetic impact

against resurfacing to reality.

I've got an ache in my chest.

And I'll blame that for all the wrong I could do.

Would do.

I'm huge on impulse.  I lack common sense.

I lack all common sense.

Any sense at all.

Am I making sense?

I'll never let go of my insecurities.

My childish antics.

But I push them aside,

and repeat all that I hate.

I'm stuck inside a small, fragile body.

With an expanding mind.

Full of curiousity.

Dumb, but oh, so sweet curiousity.

I trace the outline of my mind...I've got an urge.

And it runs deep.

I hwill! I hwill forget it!

quite the stretch

...nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose...

"but I am cursed!"

ooooo, I like to sleep.  I like to sleep a lot.

catching up on my z's, desperately.

Temptations.  I'm resisting.  Resist...I try.  Sometimes, it's hard.  I've got greedy hands.  and a wandering mind.

Watched September Dawn with my parents tonight.  Interesting, I liked it.  It really put Mormons in a bad light, and basically kissed Christian asses.  The mormons teamed up with the indians and killed the Christians because they were pissed about the Missouri people, 20 years beforehand, who had killed Joseph Smith (I think).  That bugs me, how Jacob Samuelson and fellow mormon doodes wanted to seek revenge on the Christian people just passing through to California, just because some were from Missouri.  It was like, 20 years after the fact, so when they say, "Those are the people who killed Joseph Smith.."  It bugs me, because it isn't.  They aren't the people, really.  Whether the story is true or not, I don't really care.  Stories like that upset me, how people seek revenge on others because of where they are from.  They are not the same people as the ones you're seeking revenge on.  Blegh.

religion:

-noun

A cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion

I guess I have a religion?  By definition, I feel that..my beliefs of nature and the purpose of the universe could be a religion.  I am devoted to my belief, and there are others who feel the same way.  We could be a religion.  Questioning.  And it's not even that, I really just don't care.  I live, I sin, I die.  Simple as that.

But the movie was good.  It said "based on true events", but who knows.  That's why I don't partake in religions...they all say "it happened", basically.  Jesus did that, God is this.  God believes this, I shall not do this, or else...blahblahblah.  I enjoy watching movies that involve religion and show the beliefs and values of such religions.  Makes me wonder.  And question.  Not myself, not my faith...but religion as a whole.  and how everyone has different beliefs, and how some will shove it in your face to prove they are mightier than you.  When we're all just human, and we'll all die the same way.  And some will be buried, some will be cremated.  Whether you have a religious type funeral, we're all going to the same place...into the ground.  Or spread out over this earth's surface.

If I'm wrong, you can tell me on the other side.  Death.

I'll see you there.

"So they say..

they say in heaven, there's no husbands and wives

On the day that I show up,

they'll be out of their forgiveness supplies

And I can't use the telephone

to tell you that I'm dead and gone

...so you won't know."

oh, but I found a new love..

Micah, mmmmmm.  I'll be your fourth wife, I don't even give a shit.

meatsauce

Ah, my body has been upset with me lately.  My stomach fights off whatever I attempt to feed it, but growls when I decide not to even try.  My body is a walking zombie.  Basically pulling me to my bed.  And how can I say no to that?

Instead of our timed writing being on our summer reading, my teacher gave us the prompt of "how music defines us".  Stoked.  I did so well, can't wait to get that thing back.

This week has been pretty good.  Finite blows, and I could actually drop it if I wanted to, but I'm deciding not to.  Might as well learn this shit now, because I'll have to in college, anyway.  Other than that, everything else rules.  Photography is sweet, I'm impatient to start taking pictures.

I'ma be pissed if my school has us watch that Obama speech on Tuesday.  I'll vomit.  Shove him down our throats a little more.  Jesus christ.  Get the guy out of my fucking face already.  I absolutely hate him.  I can't stand democrat teachers.  All they do is praise him.  Republican teachers aren't negative when they speak about politics, they don't even say anything bad.  but democrat ones have to bag so hard on Republicans.  I hate democrats.  So fucking rude and pushy.  "change" and "hope".  It's hilarious.

I hate that I'll turn 18 under Obama's rule.  Makes me want to crawl into a corner.  Please, 3 more years, go by quickly.  Get this guy out of here.  and out of my face already.  On your stupid bumper-stickers and shirts.  Lies.

I wish I could've been born in a different time.  I feel that I've missed out, and I'm just another teenager going under the radar.  Another flimsy vote to society.  I don't mean shit.  And I'm okay with that, because my voice doesn't matter anyway.  Corrupted governments and pigs will rule me.  And I can't fight that.  So I will seep under the radar, and I will get by.  Barely.

I really don't know who I am right now.  Or more of a 'what'.  It really gets under my skin.  and I guess that's okay.  I don't need to know.  nor do I want to..

Dreams.  Dreams are so awkward, yet intriguing.  Is it what you really want, or is it just a replay of a memory?  Are you aching for what you see, but only can even imagine having it in your dream.  It's nuts.  Nick and I were talking at lunch, and we were sayin' how weird it is when the faces change, all randomly.  Like, I once dreamt Nick and I killed these two guys, and we were stuffing their bodies in a sewer drain, and I turned around to look at him, and it was my sister.  For the rest of the dream, too.  It's just random and sudden, yet your dream doesn't really change.  They adapt all the features of them in your dream, and then you're just okay with them being there, instead of the person before.  Idunno, it's weird.

My dreams have been so odd lately.  A few days ago, I dreamt that I went on a date with Andy Samberg.  Not complaining or anything, but wtf?  hah, it was a really sweet dream, though.  Then the next day, I dreamt of an old encounter from 2008, and I had no idea why.  *gags*.  Last night, it was Zach Galifianakis.  We were hanging out at the movies, and he started to go on a killing rampage.  He killed everyone in sight, and he kept trying to kill me.  My dog was there, and he kept shooting her, too.  Chessie laid down and was like, dying, and I fell next to her.  We both pretty much were not trying to breath, so he wouldn't see and shoot us again.  He laid next to me, with his arm around me, and was whining and rambling about everyone.  The doode was nuts.  He saw Chessie's chest moving up and down, slowly, and he shot her in the face.  It skinned her nose, and there was a lot of blood.  My heart jumped, so he felt the jolt of my chest, and he went to stab me, and stabbed me once, but I shoved him off of me and stabbed him in the face.  He ran away, and it was fucking nuts.  Helicopters were looking for him, and everyone was like wtf.  Then, my parents came in, and were like, "I don't want you to ever see that boy again!" and it switched to Kyle being the big murderer.  hah, wtf just happened.

Don't even ask.  Idunno what the fuck I'm dreaming about, or why.

I want to go back to my old dreams, about sunflowers and daisies.  I guess I miss it, but it's in the past.  In the past..  past.  past.  past.

Take me back, for a second.  I want to tell myself, back then, to change things.  Choose this path, over the other.  Hold this hand, instead of that hand.  Hold onto that, instead of this.

I hate standing here, looking back and wishing I could've done this instead of that.  Fuck fate.  Fate is nothing but coincidence.  Luck.  And not because it's "karma", it's just dumb luck.

I don't get lucky.  So fuck the system of karma and all the above.  You guys don't do shit for me.  Never have, never will.

Having one dog isn't as fun.  But I love her all the same.  Old man grunts n' all.

Last night, my parents and I went to dinner at some Italian restaurant we used to go to when I was little.  I wasn't really hungry, but I wanted to go with them to be with them, ya know.  After the salad (the ranch was yucky) and the bread, I was already getting stuffed.  I could barely eat my lasagna, ha.  My body was like, aching and I knew I couldn't take anymore.  I was so weak and tired, I didn't understand.  We got home, and I watched Wall-e with my dad.  I fell asleep, and that was it.  My body was like, "You're not doing anything but sleeping right now."  So I went to my bed and fell asleep.  And that was at like, 9:30.  What a Friday night.

I'm so pissed, I missed work yesterday.  I thought I worked next Friday, not this Friday, so when Marquis called me and was like "Uh why didn't you show?" I was so upset.  I went in to talk to my manager, because talking to her face to face is the mature thing to do.  I wanted to make sure she knew that I wasn't ditching or anything, I was just stupid and mixed up my schedule with last week's.  She said it was fine, so I just hope she doesn't think anything negative about me now.  I work Sunday, 10-5.  I better not miss it, ha.  I thought I had work today for some reason, but I don't.  Good.

More time to sleep.  And dream and question myself completely.

England is mine

Does the body rule the mind, or does the mind rule the body?

I don't know..

Ask me why and I'll die

Oh, ask me why and I'll die

And if you must, go to work tomorrow

Well, if I were you, I really wouldn't bother

For there are brighter sides to life

And I should know, because I've seen them..

but not very often

Under the iron bridge, we kissed

and although I ended up with sore lips

It just wasn't like the old days anymore

No, it wasn't like those days

Am I still ill..?