Day Sixty-Five: Used

I would like to start off by saying that I am "that friend". That friend that's ALWAYS there when you need her, that's always the emotional support, the one that's always bleeding all over the place, spilling her blood and guts and money and time for everyone and anyone who needs it. Your dad's in the hospital? No problem! Here's a lasagna for you and your family that I baked! You don't have money for lunch? No problem! Here's $10! You're cold? Oh here! Take my jacket! I'm THAT person. That throws themselves under the bus for people to make them happy. But here's the thing that makes me mad. Whenever the random event occurs that *I* actually need someone....that I'M actually suffering....everyone scatters. Look, I don't do things for people with the expectation that I'm going to get something back. That would be stupid. But I'm not going to lie, it annoys me when I let someone borrow money a few times and they never pay me back and then when I need like....a $1 for a hamburger because I'm out of food for the month, no one has a dollar. Like it's the hardest thing to come by.

Today my dad got admitted to the hospital. I know. My sister yesterday, my dad today. This seems to be a test. God does that. He's really big on pop quizzes. So the deal was, this weekend I was supposed to come into town to be with my family and friends for Halloween. Not that Halloween is like some religious holiday (well ok it is for some people but I generally try to avoid interacting with said people), but it's a holiday nonetheless and my friends and I had plans. Lots of plans. Movie marathons, candy, good eats, playing with fire maybe? I don't know...whatever we tend to do Halloween weekend. So since I do not have a vehicle, my dad was supposed to come get me Friday after class and my mom was going to bring me back Monday morning since I would probably be crashed out on a sugar high Sunday night. That's what happened last year. Nicole and I watched Halloween on Ice, pelted candy at her neighbors, decorated the house and ate a shit load of candy and watched Tru Blood until the wee hours of the morning. I believe I ate too many Harry Potter themed candies and my sugar crash started around 3 in the morning. See? I'm still 16 years old. Screw this being 21 thing. But now, obviously because my father is having a heart episode again, he can't come get me.

Well immediately after I received the call that my father was in the hospital I forgot all my plans. I was like "that's it"....I HAVE to go home for a different reason now. If my father hadn't specifically asked me to stay in school this week and not come home early, I would be on the road NOW some way somehow. But I NEEDED a ride home. I called every person in my phone book, put out a plea on Facebook, no one replied. And then...some people...not naming names had the AUDACITY to tell me that it was no big deal. They were like, "Oh Katie it's not a big deal. We don't know what's wrong with your father right now....he might be ok." And I just wanted to scream "I FUCKING HATE YOU. I DON'T CARE IF MY FATHER IS IN THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE HE HAS A BRUISE. I WANT TO FUCKING SEE HIM BECAUSE HE'S 65 YEARS OLD AND HE'S NOT THE HEALTHIEST PERSON ALIVE AND I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE THE LAST TIME I SEE HIM! OK BITCH????" Like literally I was so disgusted. And this is one of those people that my family has been there for for AGES and it's like, "Wow, you can't even do this one thing for me?" I mean even if she wouldn't have been able to bring me back, don't tell me that I'm overreacting or being stupid or use that tone with me like I'm the biggest jackass who ever called you. Some people just have NO social graces. Like NONE whatsoever. And then a few members of my extended family chewed me out for asking them for a ride home. It's like, "I know that your side of the family is divorcing his but really...have a heart." I just get really frustrated because I never need anyone. I never ask anyone for anything. I'm the kind of person that feels BAD when I ask for something or when someone gives something to me. But when I do ask for something you know it's because I really need it. And I hate people that act like I'm the biggest turd in the world for asking them for something when all THEY do is ask me for things and ask me for support and help. It just riles me. Well. I did get a ride. From my friend Heath. Yes, my cockroach killer. He has been SUCH the moral support for me in the last few months, doing things for me that apparently "normal" people won't do because they are so cold-hearted. I would have paid anyone gas money to do it....but Heath is so charitable. He has the biggest award waiting for him when he dies. I'm telling you. He's like a saint. I'm so lucky to have him in my life.

I just...I just have no faith in people. I mean there aren't that many Heaths in this world that would just do anything for you at any time. I mean literally there's maybe ONE in 100. Heath and I are from the same cloth in that respect. There are a lot of things that I simply CAN'T do for people since I don't have a car. It isn't that I don't want to or that every fiber in my body isn't screaming to be able to be there for that person or do what that person needs. It's just that I can't. Physically. And now that my sister almost got killed last night I'm not sure if I WANT a car now. Seriously, people need to take driving a little bit more serious because it isn't a game. I know Lanie didn't really do anything wrong last night. I mean, you're not supposed to swerve for animals unless it's going to kill you like...a cow....or something...but seriously...she really didn't do anything wrong. She just reacted to something and like she said, "You literally have .5 seconds to decide what you're going to do."

Anyway, I've been being used lately. As I said in a previous entry, titled "No More Miss Nice Girl", I have this issue where I let people walk all over me. I met this girl over summer school in math class. She was really nice and she sat in front of me and we always talked. Well she ended up in my stat class this semester. And right away she started not coming to class and asking me to sign her in and get notes for her. So I went through all this trouble like, getting notes for her, scanning them into my computer and printing them out for her....just...so much shit. She missed like 3 weeks of class just because she didn't want to come and the whole time she expected me to give her notes and take care of her. I hate that shit. Well she actually didn't take the last test and opted to drop it since my teacher lets us drop the lowest score. After I nearly killed myself getting all those notes for her she just didn't take it. Then she starts missing class AGAIN after the second test and the day she misses class I get a text from her "Hey can you sign me in? I'll get the notes from you later on tonight." I literally gritted my teeth and was like. "No you really won't bitch." I almost got in trouble the other day for signing her in when she wasn't there.

There's another ass in my biology class that was sick and she missed a lot of notes. So I sent them to her because it's no big deal. But now it's like...she doesn't come to class on purpose because she knows that I'm going to send her the notes. Like...she's not sick because she's in my psychology class and I see her all the time. It's just like...she can't be bothered to come to class because her little note-taker bitch, Katie will get all the notes for her. I just HATE that shit. People take SUCH advantage of me. I'm really really wearing thin these days.

I just want to punch someone in the face. Like for real. I guess I really should get some sleep.

End Day 65

Day Sixty Four: The Living Dead

I don't know if I'll post this one.

I've been terribly unhappy with how I've been treating my blog lately. I hate it. But I can't write. I can't make myself do anything. It just comes out as garbage. Useless splooge. Just garbage about my feelings for people, my emotions. All of which come to naught. I feel silly even talking in this blog anymore because so many people read it. There are so many expectations now to make an entry, to say the right thing, to say something profound, to not just spill my guts on this page because it's embarrassing. Because it's personal and I shouldn't be telling anyone any of these things. And yet, here I am. I have a few things to say.

I almost lost my sister tonight. I have one sister. Just one. One full blood sibling in the entire world. That's what God gave me. There are no replacement sisters, no others. It's like we were two halves born at a different time. And now we make a whole. Sure we're not perfect. There are a lot of things about her that I can't stand. There are a lot of things that she does that grates on my every nerve. I'm sure who I am is not pleasing to her at all times. But we wouldn't be human if we didn't disagree at times.

Everyone tells Lanie and I that we are twins. It's not like looking into a mirror but it's similar. Same face structure, same color eyes, same skin color, our eyes are shaped differently, and we wear our hair differently, but we generally have the same shape and size. If I was to be honest there are times when I felt like she was all I needed. If I didn't ever have any friends, if God never blessed me with Nicole, Ashley, Delilah, Cassi.....she would have been enough. We're different in personality. Lanie is the social one. She puts herself out there. She grabs her life by the balls and parties up. That's how it goes with Lanie. Lanie wants something Lanie seizes it and she wrestles it to the floor and tames it until it is hers. She is the extrovert. She is the sun. I am the quiet one. The contemplative one. I am funny and social in my own way, but I am not one to surround myself with a lot of people. I am thoughtful and I'm the advice giver. I'm the one that sees things from a distance and observes and records. I am the introvert. I am the moon. And Lanie and I have the same relationship as the sun and the moon. We take turns phasing in and out, one being more powerful than the other and then switching places. Night and day.

And how does the night go on without the day? How does it achieve balance or survive? It doesn't. Like a missing half, the night goes dormant and does not happen. It does not come. The moon does not shine without the sun. That's how it works. When I got the call from her, she sounded like she was going to cry. Her opening words were, "Katie, I love you." And my immediate thought was that something had happened with her friends or her ex-boyfriends or something of that nature. I was ready to comfort. But I wasn't prepared for her to tell me that she almost died tonight. I wasn't ready for that bomb. In fact...I didn't feel the impact of it until after she had hung up the phone. "How?" was all I could say. She told me the story of how she was driving home from her friend's house and a dog had ran out in front of her car. The road she was traveling was one of Louisiana's many dark, forested back highways. She swerved to avoid the animal, fish-tailed into the ditch, missed a bumper and and gasline by inches. If she would have hit the bumper she would have crashed and died on impact. If she had hit the gasline, her car would have exploded. But there was our car....our little black Lexus that we share parallel parked in between that gasline and bumper. And then she told me that she saw Angelle.

Angelle is Lanie's friend that passed a few weeks ago. October 1st. She died the same way. In an automobile accident. I credit God for everything. I credit Him for the fact that she is safe and only her foot is messed up. But I credit Angelle too for stopping that car. Lanie said, "it was as if she took the wheel from me and parallel parked that thing in the ditch." It was so perfectly parked. No scratches to it. Nothing. It was as if it had just killed and came to a perfect dead stop. Lanie said she remembers getting out of the car, her foot all bloodied up, and seeing something flying around that wasn't unlike a butterfly. If you've read my previous entry about the butterflies, you'll know why this is important. The butterfly is what Lanie and her friends liken Angelle to. The butterfly has become like the physical manifestation of Angelle since she died.

This is why I chose this title. Granted, it's appropriate for this Halloween week but it says something else. It says that the dead never really die. And....I just have to say some things that might offend some people. That might conflict with some people's beliefs but I honestly don't care. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't know how atheists do it. How they just....believe in nothing but what we are today and now. How they can comfortably say, "I'm going to die and that's the end" and be done with it. Then please....if you will..answer me this one question. Why are we here then? What is the point of you even taking that next breath? If there is nothing after death then what's the point? And...if that is what you truly believe then you are doing yourself a huge disservice. You aren't giving yourself enough credit.

Human beings are superior creatures. Look at yourself in the mirror and as much as you might not like what you see, just sit in my biology class for a little while and learn about everything that makes your body work. Every little piece, every little reaction that keeps you alive, everything that makes you who you are. It's a downright piece of art. Whether or not you believe that you live up to societies standards as gorgeous or desirable, you're still....amazing. And when someone dies it shakes the world. It starts a ripple that affects people. When a person dies...it's a big deal. And so to say that...this...amazing thing doesn't live on would be silly. Would be ridiculous.

I'm not afraid of death. I never have been. Surely I want to live. Surely I want to take my next breath, but death and I have tangoed before, 3 times to be exact and each time I came out on top. I'm not afraid of it. What I'm afraid of is the loss. The having to live without. The empty. The sadness. The grief. Loss hasn't really paid me a good visit yet. I've never lost anyone close to me. I've never been through that. But I tend to view death as not an ending but a transition. Death isn't an ending. It isn't the end of the story. It's not like, "here's 80 years and that's all she wrote". I can't explain to you why I know this. I just do. I've had too many run-ins, too much evidence in my life that proves that it's not the end. Death is a transition into something greater. We can't imagine that I know. We as humans believe that we're the greatest thing since canned beer. We can build spaceships, we can destroy other people's countries, we can make robots do things for us, we can write literature and create artworks, we can cooks delicious foods and do just about anything that we really want to. So naturally we are the greatest thing in the world. Right? No I really don't think so. We have this ability to become something greater. To shed our bodies and to become these beings that exist in....well God only knows where.

I don't believe in heaven as a gated community with a passcode at the front. You don't like..dial some numbers on a keypad and God swipes his card and opens the gate for you if you have all the right things going for you. These seems to be the common depiction of heaven. I don't see it that way. I believe the dead are active in our lives. They whisper things into your ear, they squeeze your hand when you are sad, they laugh with you, and they cry with you, and they stop moving vehicles from crashing. Heaven is only a state of being. It's the state of being free. Without boundaries. Without hindrances. Heaven is just that. Being one with God and being free from bodily and earthly constraints. It is only after death that you have the ability to do anything you could ever want. And yet....somehow you don't have the desire to do so. Because everything you'd ever want is there and with you all at the same time. It is light. It is peace. It is calm and freedom and the most inexplicable bliss you could ever feel. Dying makes you more alive and real than you've ever felt in your life.

I don't cry at funerals. People look at me like I have something wrong with me but I just don't. I can't be sad for someone who is free of pain and free of any earthly hurt. I don't find them lucky. I certainly wouldn't smile at a funeral. But it is something that I've been looking forward to. I'm not saying that if my sister had died tonight I wouldn't be completely besides myself. I'm not saying that it wouldn't take me years to learn to live without her. I'm human. And that's only second best. But I need to give the biggest thank you to a little girl that I never knew for saving my sister. God sent you there to be with her I know.

For those who are wondering Lanie is fine. Her left foot has a few cuts on it, she's feeling the impact a little bit. The car had little to no damage and she is asleep and ready to drive to work the next few days. Within a few hours of the accident she had called me and was joking about the whole thing. She was making funny accents on the phone and trying to make me laugh. That's her. Nothing can block out the sun.

For those of my friends that are suffering with loss....please remember that. Nothing can block out the sun.

End Day 64

Day Sixty: The Lost Days

So. I'm sure that some of you have realized that there are a few holes in my blog. A few....missing days. I realize this. I am not retarded. I'm sorry if this is distressing to some people. I simply cannot see why as my life is not that interesting and I do not understand why some people NEED to know what happens in my life everyday. Nonetheless, it's flattering. I like that.

I am literally falling asleep right now. I cannot type. I am dozing off in public as we speak. I hate Wednesday nights. It's my early to bed early to rise night. I have to go to bed at 10:00 which is a jolt to my sleep schedule. My body is not attuned to going to bed that early. So when I am expected to all of a sudden I get nervous like "What if I don't get enough sleep". This makes for stress which makes for a restless night. Last night around 10:00 I got into bed with full intention of going to sleep. I flicked on my television, and watched "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives" on Food Network, dozing in and out of sleep. Then I started dreaming about ham sandwiches and I was awake again because I was violently hungry. Damn it. I need to stop watching Food Network to fall asleep. That's bad. So I ate half a box of Wheat Thins....look don't judge me...they're my surrogate potato chips. They're the only way I get by sometimes.

Well after that I still wasn't ready to go to sleep so I got on Facebook Chat from my iPhone and saw that my friend Justin was on. Justin and I have this weird relationship. We kind of like...fell into this friendship our first year of college. He was in my College Orientation class and from the moment I saw him I was like, "that's my new friend." Justin is undoubtedly a good-looking guy. He knows his. Quite well actually. And I plopped myself down in the seat next to him and pretty much never got up. I made sure to sit next to him every class because I felt so incredibly special sitting next to him. Do not pick at my 18 year old logic. I was a tard. Justin and I have been on and off friends for a little while now. It doesn't seem like that long but it's been about as long as I've been in college which is forever it feels like. Justin and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of levels. I'm straight edge....Justin is not. I'm Christian. Justin is Buddhist. Justin likes to play with fire. I am afraid of fire. We do love cats though. That's our common ground. Cats. lol.

Anyway. Justin was Jude's roommate for awhile. I sincerely feel like a complete ass for putting Justin and Jude together. I thought they would get along. From what I can tell NOW, Jude doesn't get along with anyone. Because he's a fucking.......ok we're not going to get into how I feel about my ex lol. But at least Jude paid Justin's rent for awhile and so we kind of scratched each others backs like that for awhile. I wish I would have spent more time with Justin. Jude was just busy being anti-social and didn't want to interact with Justin or his friend Kevin because he felt "awkward". That's actually Jude's middle name. Awkward. I've decided that just now. Because that pretty much explains him as a person.

Well Justin just started doing this thing where he fire dances. He's got this huge staff (*giggles*) that he lights on fire and he twirls it around and it just looks really cool. Of course, I'm like SUCH the worry wart so I was like "Ahhh be careful!" And then it hit me..."why am I so concerned about Justin?" Like I was literally freaking out because I thought he was going to hurt himself. But why? Justin and I aren't THAT close. I don't know if he'd ever want to be that close to me. Because we're such different people. But I was like...legit concerned for him.

I feel this need lately to be close to everyone I know. Like I'm running out of time. Like they won't be there someday. I guess it's because I looked at my course distribution sheet the other day and noticed that college is almost over. And I haven't made any close friends here. I used to put priority on that kind of sludge. You NEED friends. You MUST make friends like the world is going out of stock of people to befriend or something. I think it's because people put so much stock in the college cliches. "You make your best friends in college", "Your college friends will be friends for life". My opinion is to just not put stress on yourself like that. Uni isn't the only place where people hang out. And what is this illusion that you NEED a billion friends? But I can't help it. I'm stressing. G and I have been in class together for two semesters now. Y'all remember G from my previous entries. And the thought dawned on me the other day that I'm never going to see G again probably after this semester. That freaked me out. I get comfortable with people. I get comfortable with him sitting in front of me in class and looking at the back of his head. And the thought that he's not going to be there anymore freaked me out whether or not he and I claim to be close to each other. Because we're not. And I don't know HOW to get close to someone like that. Just like I don't know HOW to get close to Justin. All I know is that I want that closeness. That bond. That interaction with someone.

I dozed off briefly last night thinking about Justin throwing flames. THAT was an interesting dream. Because he wasn't using a staff he was just like...generating fire and throwing it everywhere. That was around 12:30. I woke up at 2:30 a couple of hours later. At first I didn't realize what woke me up. I thought I was just awake. This is normal for my insomnia tendencies. All of a sudden I'll just be awake. But no. There was something going on outside. Like...a large group of people hanging outside my window being REALLY loud. At first I thought the building was on fire. Probably because I was dreaming about fire and Justin without his shirt on. I immediately thought something was wrong. So I jumped up and went to the window to see what was happening. From what I could see, because it was pretty dark out, there were about...12 people chilling outside by the volleyball court. They were just...standing there...conversing...at top octave....at 2:30 in the morning. I realized after listening to their conversations that they were extremely inebriated and soon my fears were turned into anger. It's a WEDNESDAY NIGHT! What are you people DOING outside at this hour talking like that, carrying on? Not to mention, some guy named Daniel was apparently trying to get into a fist fight with every male in the vicinity and some girl kept screaming, "Baby stop! Daniel stop it! Just stop!" That was accompanied by loud male shouts that were indistinct. There was also lots of high pitched laughter. I cracked my blinds a little bit and stared down with a look of death on my face and watched the crowd. They were literally standing around in the dark, talking and fighting and carrying on with their drunk selves. I felt like opening my window and pouring acid on all of them.............not that I own a vat of acid. But still. There were AT LEAST 10 of these people. I would say about 12 or 13. I tried calling the security people but no one answered. Great job security. so I laid in bed until about 3:30 and finally drifted back to sleep. My alarm rang at 6 and I seriously considered bailing on class.

But I can't do that. My bio lab is only once a week and Turluck wets his drawers if we don't come to class. And I CANNOT afford to do poorly in that class. It's already a hard enough class to get into, it would look really poor if I failed it and then getting back into the class to retake it would be nothing short of a nightmare. So I dragged my sad ass out of the house and went to lab. We did exactly the same thing we do every time we set foot in that class. We get slides of stuff and look at them under the microscope and draw thumbnails of what we see. Last week it was diatoms, this week it was plant cells. I'm done. I do NOT understand how this pertains to psychology. And Turluck's sickeningly sweet enthusiastic disposition and enthusiasm towards these labs makes it worse. But I suppose I'd rather him be excited than pissy.

Then there's that long ass wait in between lab and psych. I've been planted in this same spot in the library for hours. I'm tired. I'm actually physically falling asleep. I do not know how I am going to survive sitting in that cramped chair for an hour and a half listening to Umbridge talk. Her stories are funny. Her weird sense of humor is entertaining. But on a day like this it's not enough to keep me awake. I would love it if I could use the big, beefy, slightly attractive male, Chris, that sits next to me as a pillow. He's literally within head distance. That's how close our desks are together.................*drools and snores*

*jolts awake* ZOMG. o.o I just fell asleep. C just woke me up. Thank you C....and Facebook...for having such startling chat noises. *shakes it off*
Well. I need to go now. I need to find ways to keep myself awake. I will have nap time later. :) Today's picture is of me in my hat. Making a quizzical face. And failing. Sorry I have no make up on. Well like...a very little bit. I don't wear makeup to school anymore.

Tomorrow is Friday. And since I finished all my Friday homework a few days ago I will catch up on this blog thing tonight. Love you all!

End Day 60

Day Fifty-Nine: Amoretti

I think possibly if I could just lay down and die that would be the best way to go about this. Because that's all I seem to want to do this afternoon...die. I lie on my stomach really still, hold my breath and hope that everything will just stop working and I die.

In my opinion there is no worse disease in the world than being heart sick. Because it's something that can't be cured. There isn't a cure. Because the only thing that will stop this feeling of utter torment is to be with that person. And that absolutely impossible when the person is thousands of miles away from you and you don't know if they feel the same. Is it a crime? To wonder if they even think about you sometimes? If the thought of you even crosses their mind in a day? Is it a crime to want that? I didn't think so until now. Now I'm wondering if I should be guilty.

Should I stand trial every time I send them a message? Every time I create art for them or write poems for them....should I feel guilty? Am I asking for too much to just hear from them? Am I wrong? Is it wrong to care for him the way I do?

Look. I realize I'm unlovable. I get that. And all of you people that will write "No you're not Katie!" are just wasting my time. You're wasting your breath on me because your words are not countering years and years of evidence that backs up this theory. To me...you're just being annoying. And somehow I've found myself craving just that. To be loved. And not just by anyone. No. My heart has picked out someone specific to burden. And it HAD to be him. Him, the sweetest, most kind and understanding person in the world and I have to fall in love with him. And my heart knows no boundaries. It runs after what it wants at break neck speed and I can't control it. I can't control myself.

And right now he's going through something that I've never experienced before on a close level. Death. I don't understand death. None of my close family has died, no friends...I don't even own pets for this reason. Because I can't handle it. I personally...have almost died...and I guess I understand death from that aspect. But I don't know loss. I know it abstractly. I know it in the sense of relationships, when someone you love for two years walks out on you and never comes back...that's a death in my opinion. Somehow it's even worse than death. Because at least when someone dies....if you believe in an afterlife you can console yourself with the thought of them looking down on you or "being with you in spirit". But the death of a relationship....that person DIES to you. They're not there anymore and you can't hold them or love them anymore but the worst part is that they're not even dead they're actually just hooking up with half their hometown right now and that they left you by choice. So anyway...there's nothing I can really SAY to him that will make this all right. I can't relate.

But because of my empath abilities I can feel his pain. I can feel it like it was my own pain. And it's something I don't understand or comprehend and all I want to do is fix it. I'm a fixer, a healer. This is what I go to school for. I want to fix it for him, I want to make it better. But how? I can't make it any better and NOTHING I say is going to make it all right. Hell I'm pretty sure he doesn't even LIKE hearing from me right now. But there's my weakness. I can't leave him alone. Because maybe I'm selfish, maybe I'm an asshole....I don't think that's the case. I think it's just human nature...to want to take care of those we love when they are in pain.

And this is the part that makes me go stir crazy. He lives about a day's drive from where I live. And while that isn't too bad...we honestly don't know each other like that. I can't just be like, "I'm going to go visit him and bring him a fruit basket"...because we haven't reached that level of friendship...at least I don't think so. I don't even know what's going on. And I would like everyone to refer to my "Deactivating the Filter" post I made...I believe it was day 50....as you can see this is completely contrary to how I live my life. I DON'T censor myself. I DON'T consider comfort-level with most people because that's just the way I am. But he's special. He's probably the most special person I've met. And my main priority is to make him happy. Where that comes from I do not know? I don't know what makes people CHOOSE other people. I've been able to pinpoint a few explanations for why I love this person.

1. It's not a physical thing. I know this for a fact. While the fact that this man is possibly one of the most gorgeous people in the world remains...it isn't a factor in why I care about him. I love him because he makes me happy. Unlike ANY other person in my life. Inexplicably, blissfully, through the roof happy.

2. I love him because he is human. Because he is explicitly and clearly 100% human. He is flawed. He makes mistakes. He has problems. He is pained. He is gorgeously and beautifully imperfect.

3. I love him because he was the one that inspired me to deactivate my filter. Which is kind of ironic that he is the only person I use it around. Well...in this time anyway. I am just trying desperately not to piss him off or fudge anything up since I seem to be really good at that. He told me to, "Never second guess yourself". And so I have done so....everyday...until..recently.

I can't touch him. I can't hold him and tell him it's going to be ok. I hope he has people where he is that can do that for him. And well then if not...that just makes it worse. That's the worst part I think...not being able to physically be there with him. Again...I'm not even sure if he would want me around. I hate how there isn't anything I can do. Nothing. I just hope....that if by some chance he is reading this...that he knows someone out there thinks the world of him. And that if he would only call my name I would be right there. He just has to say the word.

I've been thinking a lot about getting out of here and where I would go. I'm over it. I'm done with this place. This place is empty because now I know what isn't here...what is there that I'm missing out on. It's going to go two ways. If I can afford it (which is looking grim right now) I will go to England. Assimilate into the culture there...forget that I was ever American. Find an English boyfriend that likes bands and goes to shows. Maybe he'll wear plaid shirts and Converse sneakers and wear those shades with slats in them....they look like window blinds to me. I think they look RETARDED. I feel like pulling them off of people when I see them wearing them and be like "You're going to get hit by a moving vehicle because you can't SEE!" The only person who is allowed to wear said glasses is Kanye West. Because that's "his thing". Or on the other hand I could just scrap England (which is probably going to end up happening because I'm POOR) and move to California. Not because of him. Not because that's the cliche thing to do. Because I feel like it's the next logical move. Because basically I want to go to UCLA for medical school....or Standford....yeah Standford. Because basically I want to go to the beach. Because basically I'm sick of living in tropical weather. Because maybe....it is a little bit about him. I could run excuses up and down the street why it's not...but ok....I'll admit it....it's a little bit about him.

Right now I'm working on something for him. In the 16th Century Edmund Spencer wrote a work called the "Amoretti". Which is a series of sonnets for his love Elizabeth Boyle. I have always wanted to write an Amoretti for someone I love. But no one I've ever been with has inspired me until my current special friend. And since my emotional heart has cranked out a few poems for him already I'm going to write him his own Amoretti. And whether or not he chooses to care about me too...it will be a gift for him that he won't ever forget. His very own Amoretti.

This is probably the sappiest song in the entire world by the cheesiest singing group in the world but it's appropriate for right now.

"You can call me selfish, but all I want is your love. You can call me hopeless, baby, because I'm hopelessly in love. You can call me imperfect, but who's perfect? Tell me what I got to do? To prove that I'm the only one for you? So what's wrong with being selfish?"

-"Selfish", N*Sync

End Day 59

Day Fifty-Three: My Special Friend

It's a really hard thing for me to do....cry in public. But for some reason right now I've been through about enough. So much that these tears won't stay where they belong...behind my eyes. And I'm surrounded by people. It's times like these when I wish I would have gotten those sunglasses.

I'm a wreck. A complete emotional wreck. I wore...wait for it..........YOGA PANTS to school today. If you can remember from my previous entries how I feel about myself wearing YOGA PANTS to school, you must know that my life is in a shambles right now. I'm wearing light blue yoga pants, a black t-shirt and my hair unblowdried in a ponytail. I'm rocking the ponytail plus headband look. I have to wear my tennis shoes with my yoga pants too because yesterday I stepped on a piece of glass and cut my foot in two different places. I probably don't need a tetnis shot.......I don't think. It wasn't deep enough. Anyway I can't wear flip flops because my foot is bandaged and it would get...infected if I let it out in the open. Anyway. Sorry that was gross.

I still cannot eat. Some of you may recall my grief entry when I didn't eat. Well I'm still not doing that. The sight and smell of food makes me ill. My friend Brittany and I did our normal Thursday morning coffee or breakfast thing after our 8 AM bio lab. She MADE me eat. She bought me a turkey wrap which I took two bites of and felt like I was going to vomit. It's not that it was a bad sandwich. I'm not into food anymore. Speaking of which....I'm under 200 lbs as of yesterday! I haven't been under 200 in 4 years and last night I weighed myself and I was at 198 WITH my special visitor of the month. And all girls know that our special visitors make us gain about 4-5 pounds. So I'm 198 with my visitor. Which is awesome. :) I will attribute that to being depressed and not eating but at least my stomach is shrinking. I eat 1/4 of what I used to in high school....and that to me is an accomplishment. I'm going to start kickboxing so I can have a toned ass and beat people up. Ok. That's retarded I'll never beat anyone up. But I've never been defended by anyone else in my life so why should I start letting people defend me if someone tries to rape me. I want to take that sukka out!! I'm already good at punching people in the face. Now I need to get good at kicking people in the face. I'm also going to start playing volleyball if someone wants to plaaaaayyy :D. I used to be really good and I used to play on a team.....when I was 11.....anyway. LOL But now I'm 10 years older and a little rusty so I'll go easy on you. :)

Anywho. I haven't heard from my special friend in a few days. I don't know if I've talked about my special friend before. My special friend is a guy that I'm kinda...sweet on. Like...no like way more than sweet....it's more like I'm hot for him lol. Like burning up, 300 degrees hot for him. This special friend and I aren't dating but it's not entirely impossible that we will one day. Maybe. Possibly. I'd say it's about a 50/50 shot right now....he might think something different but it's not like I can ask him right now. We've both got a lot on our plates. But I would be lying if I said I didn't care about him. A lot. Ok fine. I think about him at LEAST 4 times a day. That's not weird I don't think. My special friend has a few problems just like me and our primary means of communication is text message. I found out this morning that he's been going through a lot lately and I'm worried SICK about him. Like literally I threw up this morning I was so worried about him. He didn't text me though, he sent me a message on my YouTube inbox which was...random. I really hope he's ok. This is my reason for crying in public. Ok....not the only reason. I'm crying for A LOT of reasons but I am legit scared for him. I just wish....he would tell me that he's all right. I would just like to hear from him. Because truth be told I miss him and I am like....so stressed that something happened to him. Why the hell don't I live near ANYONE that I care about??? I don't even live near my own fucking family! Ugh. Isolation.

I have also realized that the reason I am even alive right now is because of liquids. While solid food and I haven't spoken for about....mmmmm....two weeks....liquids and I have been hanging out a lot. I drink a lot of milk, a lot of Coke, a lot of juice....a LOT of rootbeer, a lot of tea and a lot of...*swirls liquid around in cup* whatever this delicious cinnamon flavored milkiness this is that Brittany bought for me this morning. I suppose that provides some kind of nutrition. Well Coke probably doesn't. It just makes me feel bloated and full which takes away from the feeling of the front of my stomach trying to eat my spine. That feeling is really REALLY familiar lately. And in some sick way I kind of like it. It makes me glad to know that I'm hungry and I literally do not care. Which if you know my track record in high school where I medicated every emotional problem with food and never skipped a meal...it feels like an accomplishment.

I would like to note that SOMEONE smells amazing in this cafe and I can't figure out who it is. It's definitely a girl.....or a gay man....WHO IN HERE IS WEARING THE NICE PERFUME? I MUST KNOW THE BRAND! I have a real issue with collecting fragrances. I love perfume. I always smell really good. That's my signature thing. Everyone alway hugs me and is like *hugs longer*...."you smell so gooood". It's awesome. Wait.....*smells shirt*......I think the smelling good person is actually myself. XD Wow Katie. I'm wearing Thierry Mugler's "Lily" today. ^.^ I smell like a spring flower. Ok I'm going into that "on drugs" mode again so I will end this entry.

Today's picture is of my cinnamon milky goodness from Jazzman's. It has my name on it. :D

End Day 53

Day Fifty-Two: Clearning the Air

Yesterday was a bit of a sigh of relief. It was like this big looming cloud over my head kind of dissipated and took some of the weight off of my stress. Not much, but a bit.

In my last entry I was stressing out over a particular conversation with a particular friend and I was basically eating myself alive over what I thought this person was thinking about me. I do this a lot. This is another personality flaw of mine. If you came into this blog thinking I was perfect, I guess now you have realized that I am a drastically flawed person. I have a lot of issues...a lot of internal issues...bugs that need to be worked out. And to be honest I'm glad I have gotten it out in the open. I'm glad that I write this blog and that people can see me for who I really am. A human being. We tend to like to imagine that we aren't human. That we all have superhuman powers and do not get upset and do not have problems and flawed thought-processes. It's a healing thing to let it out and to get comments from people that I've never had a full conversation with until now tell me, "Your blog has inspired me so much. It helps me get through my day." I don't see anything I write as inspiring. It's basically my emotional garbage. But as the old saying goes, "One man's trash is another's treasure." So I would like to say, I'm glad I could help. And thank you. For allowing me to share my thoughts and issues with you. Maybe you simply read this for the drama. Because you like to see that someone else's life is worse than yours. That's ok too. I can deal with that.

THAT was a completely unrelated tangent but I'm glad we had that talk. Now back to the real topic. I got on Skype. That particular person was on there and I guess I got some momentary balls and I asked this person if I had ever hurt them? This person is so fragile. They are so...cute and innocent and young that I'm almost petrified that I'm going to hurt them. It's like holding a little fragile flower. One sudden move and they could break. That's my perception anyway. This person may not be like that at all but that's the kind of vibe that they give to me. Of course they said no that I never hurt them. Of course. And I believe them. I really do. Normally my low self esteem would be like, "No you're lying!" But this time I chose to believe them and left it at that. He let me vent to him about what's been going on in my life and he's been really supportive about it and the conversation ended on good terms. And after that cloud had dissipated, I realized that the underlying feeling that was causing this issue was jealousy. There we go. There's my good old friend jealousy. Told you. Jealousy is such a stalker. It's that stalker friend that knows everything about your life and always constantly wants to be in it. Yep. And I really don't know how to tell jealousy where to go.

This particular mode of jealousy that I'm experiencing is the very one that I wrote about over the weekend. The YouTube jealousies. It's such an unattractive thing. It really truly makes me feel like a worthless person. But it has nothing to do with my views or subscribers. I am overly grateful for what I have. It's the friendships that people are forming that I cannot be a part of. And I guess that digs up old middle school trauma.

I'm truly disappointed in myself that I let my jealousy cause this problem. Because honestly, something that I do a lot.....I assume that people feel a certain way about me or that they think a certain thing about me because it gives me a reason to feel insecure. This is completely subconscious when it happens. But a lot of times it's an internal conflict with myself. I'm not secure in myself. I've come a LONG way since my teenage years and even since I turned 20. I'm a completely different person now than I was on my 20th birthday. I'm a little bit more sure of who I am, a little bit more confident in my abilities. I have a little more self worth, I'm healthier, I'm more focused. All those are positive things. But I'm not going to say that there aren't trace elements of who I was still left in me. A lot of times I feel inadequate. That's a step up from wanting to die all the time and feeling like I shouldn't even be alive. I'll take inadequate any day over that mindset. My feelings of inadequacy haven't really affected me like this in a very long time. I really got carried away.

I think that when there are other stressful elements playing in my life...and I become more vulnerable...my self esteem or lack thereof plummeted and pretty much took over my mind. I have so much shit going on in my life right now. With my dad losing both of his jobs and being broke on the brink of filing bankruptcy, my mother pitching hissy fits every chance she gets about how she has to work two jobs and how she can't find a new boyfriend and how she's alone and how she doesn't have enough money to buy a house and how she hates my father and how secretly she just wants me to fix all her problems because I'm the only one that listens to her. My sister's personal life, her feelings of inadequacy, getting her into college, her relationship problems, no...scratch that...EVERY single problem she has...all of those things get laid on me. I have always been the velcro wall in my family. The person that everyone comes to with their shit. The person that's expected to take care of everyone else's shit or at least listen to it and provide advice. Everybody sticks everything on me like velcro. And it's impossible for me to not let them because I love them and they are my family and what kind of person would I be if I didn't...call my sister's boyfriend to find out why he hasn't spoken to her in three days? You know?

Then on top of that I'm TRYING to get my GPA up this semester so I can have a decent score to get into a graduate school in California. Why the fuck is California a big deal? Like..."Oooh California! Our cost of living is like 80% higher than everyone else's (that's totally made up I'm just shit talking) and our schools are harder to get into! (that's not made up I speak from experience)" But how am I supposed to get my GPA up when I'm taking 5 classes, one of which is run by a professor that thinks she is literally the only professor at UL. Giving us two papers a week, on top of staying a float in Statistics class, on top of reviewing every night for biology, on top of getting up at 6 am every Thursday to go look at diatoms under a microscope in lab, and try to walk away with my dignity from French class. It's ENOUGH. I have a full plate. I'm dealing with a five course meal right now.

Random switch of personality: There is a little boy walking around this cafe with a bag of chips under his arm that is bigger than him. *sparkly eyes* AWWWWWW!!! *squeaks*

Now back to your normal program. I wish I had a man. Not like a clingy...whiny "make me a sandwich woman" man. Like an independent, knows what the fuck he's doing, no bullshit kind of man. And by bullshit I mean he doesn't sleep around or watch lady porn or steal my debit card for his own pleasures. I want someone that I can support and he can support me. I wouldn't mind if he had issues. I love people with issues. I have SO many issues. And I love sharing issues. This is exactly why I'm becoming a psychologist. I love other people's shit. Heh. Shit.......hehe. Sorry...my mind turned into a 5th grader all of a sudden. I want someone that can trust me with his problems and I can trust him with mine and we can support each other and love each other and help each other be overall productive people together..............................and I want cuddles. Lots of cuddles.

I just overheard someone's conversation and it was weird. "He's over at my house right now drinking my maple syrup"..........WHAT?! People at school are weird! That's almost as weird as what I heard some girl say on her phone last week. Apparently her best friend takes "porn lessons". The shit you hear in the UL library cafe.....weird.

End Day 52

Day Fifty-One: I'm Literally An Idiot

Sometimes I just need to stay away from people.
This is something I NEED to learn to do. It seems the more I like a person for who they are, the more that I care about someone, and the more I genuinely want to know them as people, the more they hate me. This has been a phenomena that I've witnessed my entire life. I do not notice this in anyone else's life. It seems that generally when someone wants to be friends with someone else and wants to get close to them it happens for them. Making friends is generally a positive thing.

NOT with me. I have figured out about 3 years ago that there is something wrong with me. Something EXTREMELY offputting about me that I CANNOT understand or figure out. I have brainstormed on this topic for a very long time. I have literally driven myself mad trying to figure out what that something is. I KNOW I'm a bit overbearing a times. I speak my mind. I'm not afraid to say things the way they are. But generally when first meeting someone I try to keep those traits at bay until they understand that I'm not a total nutcase just...opinionated. I can also admit to being a tad annoying at times. A bit emo-ish, up in your face, clingy....but actually in recent years I've almost extinguished these bad traits. Sometimes they rear their ugly heads every now and then but I try mostly to be a level-headed person.

And I'm NOT a total nut on an everyday basis. I have a lot of friends that I don't really like. Mostly because I'm a nice person and I'm really REALLY too nice to tell them, "You're a complete twat." As long as they're not grating on my every last nerve, I keep them in my life because that's the nice thing to do. We have lunch, we do coffee, we study together and that's it. I don't get intimately involved with these people because pretty much they are really really...boring. To me at least. I NEED stimulating conversation when I talk to someone. I really need someone to say something educated to me. If it's going to be a whole hour talking about how "And then Jenny did this and I cut her! Oh and then Michael came over and we busted that bitches door down". Like....I don't do drama. I don't like to hear you embellish stories about your life to make it sound like you're on "Real Housewives" or something. There is NO WAY you went and kicked down someone's door last night and punched their abusive boyfriend in the face. You would be a jail!

And honestly I don't have very many friends because they're AREN'T many people who value real conversation and not Jersey Shore splooge. I have come to realize I'm really REALLY not anti-social, I am really just picky about who I get close to. I'm a nice person and I hang out with everyone. But I'm not going to invite these people TO MY HOUSE or to spend anymore time with me than 60 minutes. But every now and then there's a person that I really....really like. Like...as people. A lot of these people I've met on the internet. My friend Beth is one of these people. Beth and I have never met in real life but we could literally probably spend a good deal of time together talking about books, school, animals, food, culture, politics, ALL KINDS OF THINGS. Basically because Beth values things that aren't retarded. I have found a LOT of these people on YouTube. Which sucks because YouTube isn't an actual place and you can't go down to Beth's house at 605 YouTube Street and visit with her. In reality Beth lives about....almost a week's worth of driving distance away from me. Ouch.

The person that I'm specifically talking about in this entry is someone that I really genuinely liked as a person. Like more so than A LOT of people. It really takes a special individual to get to this kind of status with me. To create that kind of respect. Because like I said...there are really only a few people that I actually LIKE. And it has nothing to do with the way this person looks or anything. This person could be ugly as heck and I would still want to be their friend. I don't...operate based on how people look. It's not a good thing to do. The fact that this person is really pretty to look at is only just a perk in the game. Maybe...I came off too strongly with this person. I get...overly...*clicks tongue*..how do I say this....I get hyperactive when I talk to people I like. I get over animated. I joke too much. I have too many things to say to them in one conversation. I am overly complimentary and I act like an awkward freak. ASK ME NOT why this happens! Because with people that I don't really like I am like...cool as a fucking cucumber. I am KNOWN for being the chilled out, laid back, intellectual friend that everyone comes to for advice. But then I meet someone that genuinely makes me happy and I turn into a freak. This has also happened with Beth lately too. It's not restricted to gender. I don't turn into a slobbering whore around guys that I like. It's GIRLS too. And I'm not attracted to girls. I'm not like that. I have this weird obsessive need for them to like me back. Like to be friends with me because GOD FORBID this rare person gets away.

I came on a bit strong with this particular person. And I can't seem to make amends for it. The more I try to make amends for the way I acted the worse it gets. The more psycho I seem. It's like trying to fix something and just breaking it further every time you touch it. I almost feel HORRIBLE even talking to this person when I do. Like I feel like I am totally imposing and destroying this person's life if I even say "hi". And it literally tears me up on the inside. Because this person is like extra special. It's like...if all the friends that I REALLY like are gold..this one is platinum. I've NEVER met someone that's platinum before! And I think...that whatever friendship I could have had with this person is irreversibly damaged. Like...they will never want to be close to me. And I know SEVERAL people reading this blog...specific ones...are laughing at me right now. I know it. People that I care about are laughing at me right now because I am a complete and utter fool. And I get that. I deserve it.

I think maybe it's that...I don't want to work for anything. I don't want to wait I don't want to have to wonder. I want their friendship now! And I think...maybe when I talked to this person I overshot the comfortable-level between us. I guess it's because....in this circle of friends that we have going on...everyone is really comfortable with each other. No one that I've been overly affectionate with has met me with any sort of opposition so far. So I guess that since I've been getting away with it for so long that I sprang it on this person thinking that it would be the same way...and it wasn't. Like...I can make crass, weird jokes with a lot of friends here. I can be honest and upfront and be like "I love you. You are literally my favorite" and all my friends here will be like "YAY!" Like I know with my friend Ashley...we make sexual jokes to each other all the time. Sometimes we'll literally like grab each others boobs and be like "I wanna fuck you". But it's not for real! It's a joke! That's kind of my sense of humor....and while I don't say it in those words to everyone.....actually Ashley is PROBABLY the only person I'd ever say that too LOL...I do tend to make sexual jokes and just be overall goofy around people.

I mean there's a difference between, "You're a really attractive person. I like you," and "I'd like to see what's in YOUR pants XD" (smiley faces included) The first one is much more sincere and it's the truth. The second one is just me being really weird and being crass and humorous. I think...maybe this person does not understand my sense of humor. They literally...ugh. And I really didn't say anything really bad to this person. I tried to keep my weirdness at bay. But I just think this person completely misunderstands me and is legitimately afraid of me and does not want to have any sort of prolonged conversation with me. This is very disheartening. Because this is someone I really wanted to get to know. But sometimes I guess...you just gotta let it go.

I probably won't ever find another platinum.

By the way...my Day Forty-Nine entry needs to be completely disregarded. I think I was on crack that day. I mean what I said about MYSELF is real but I was having some kind of emotional hiccup that day and like....I think I took drugs. And I don't mean literally. But sometimes I do that. Like sometimes I act like I'm on drugs for like...a period of 8 hours. I just become like really passionate and....strange. Sorry. For that. UGH.

Like I was saying. Sometimes I need to just stay away from people.
*sighs* Back to the isolation closet.

The picture for today is something I thought some people would enjoy. I live nextdoor to "Scooter Bruce's". It's a old hick dude that sells really weird scooters. This is one of his products. I'm going to get this ride and be like...an even bigger freak.
End Day 51

Day Firty Part Two: The Breaking Point and a Dedication to My Loves

Since I've been using quotations lately I'll use this one from one of my favorite movies, "Phantom of the Opera":

"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold, and turn to tears of hate."

Christine sings this to the Phantom after he holds her love, Raul, hostage, his life dangling by a thread, with her love as the ransom.
Well...I've never had that happen to me before so I really don't know how Christine feels. In fact...most people have no idea how this feels. That's why it's called a movie. But I can apply it to my life right now.

I think everyone has a breaking point. A point of "That's enough!" My breaking point doesn't come until far far along the line. It takes A LOT to get me to that point when I just meltdown. I finally reached that point the other day.

Loving Jude Jackson is like being on a never-ending roller coaster of hell. HELL. Fiery, scary, lustful, weird, twisted hell. Loving someone who is completely in need of heavy behavioral medication will do this to you. If you really REALLY wanted to know what a psychopath looks like...it's Jude. Jude is textbook psychopath. I would know. I have the God damned textbook right here. And why I dated a psychopath for 2 years is beyond my comprehension. Jude has some beginning stage of multiple personality disorder. I kid you not, I witnessed it myself. And I realized that as he gets older it becomes more and more serious. I met Jude when he was barely 17 years old. And now he's turning 20 in April. Over that course of time, Jude's disease has become more and more apparent. And as a healer, I want to do something for him. And it doesn't help that I was once in love with the boy. I WANT to help him. But I realize I can't. And even if I was certified right now I couldn't. Because even with a fancy plaque to mount on my office wall, I cannot help people who do not want to be helped and I cannot love people who refuse to be loved. I have come to terms with the fact that everything in the universe has a give and take. Everything sparks a reaction and every push needs a pull. And I cannot push if Jude will not pull. I cannot love him if he will not and refuses to accept any kind of affection or acceptance from stable people.

This last month with Jude has been up, down, up, down, up, down. Started when he told me he wanted to get back together. Then he decided he loved Shelby and told me to go fuck myself. Then he came back with "I was so confused. I still care about you". And then the other day...the breaking point. We were on MSN just chatting and I guess I said something that made Jude's personality turn...I don't really know how that works....maybe it just does it on it's own...but all of a sudden he started with "You're so over-sentimental. You're so gross. Just leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you. You're such a piece of shit..." and it goes on. At that point I literally smiled to myself and mouthed "Ok Jude" and blocked him on messenger. The rest of the day I was inexplicably happy. I did not talk to him, I did not call him, I did not show him the time of day because oddly enough...I did not feel upset. I was not mad. I was not sad. I was not in love with him. Something just clicked and said, "That is quite enough." It took two years and 3 months to finally get to that breaking point. I told you it was far down the line.

That night he called me. I had my phone on silent so I don't even know how I noticed the phone was ringing. I had taken his contact out of my phone so a bunch of numbers were showing up as the "Incoming Call". It took me a moment to recognize the number and I answered it cheerfully. His first reaction was, "Hi...you're.....happy?" I replied back with "Yes Jude. I am happy." Did you notice that he EXPECTED me to be upset? Did you notice that he was slightly disappointed when I wasn't? Did you notice what a nutcase he is? I continued that conversation as light-heartedly as ever. His next point was, "Look, I said some really ugly things today and I wanted to apologize for it. I'm sorry." And the thing is that I took his apology and I dropped it. Because for the first time in forever I DID NOT CARE. I was literally like, "Okie dokie." (That's my favorite Rose Nyland saying haha! Betty White....) And I thought at the time the grief would be back. It was only the calm before the storm....but it hasn't come back yet. In fact.....I'm not sad at all. I don't miss him. I don't love him. I don't give a rat's ass what he's doing right now. He logged onto MSN this morning and I did not IM him at all. I don't CARE. The grief is over. It's finished. I'm not living my life like this anymore and it wasn't a voluntary thing...it just happened.

I guess if someone tells you you're a piece of shit enough it becomes old. I guess his little back and forth game finally got boring and my mind just switched it off. The idea of Jude having sex with another woman used to make me sick. Now...I really don't care who it's putting it in. Only that...I feel really sorry for the girl...or the man. Haha! Jude is the kind of man that should wear a warning. The kind that says "Toxic if Loved: May Cause Mental Retardation for a Few Years". But my head is clear. My mind is on other things. I am STILL failing to eat. I lost more weight but I think it's because my body hasn't really had a meal in so long that it doesn't want to eat anymore. That's ok. I know this because I ordered pizza yesterday and ate two bites and didn't want anymore. It's not depression I'm just not used to eating. This has happened before and I will deal with it accordingly. The only problem I have right now is laziness. I won't be lazy anymore though.

Last night I didn't sleep. I kept thinking about things. Thinking about people. Drifting in and out of dreams of people that I don't know. So when my alarm rang at 8 this morning I chose not to go to French class or Statistics. I got up early and studied for my biology exam though and I went and took that to the best of my abilities. Which was pretty good.

I have to credit my breaking point moment to one thing though. Some of you that read my blog have probably seen my new Facebook profile picture. And those of you that do not know what the text in the picture means should know it now. I look down my list of followers on this blog and I see most of you probably know what I'm going to talk about. Some of you that follow via Facebook not Blogger have probably heard me mention it but do not understand it. I'm going to clear this up for anyone who is confused since I've had a few people ask me about it.

This is something I am not ashamed of. For some reason other people in the community are like...totally horrified by the idea of anyone in their family or inner circle knowing about it. I HONESTLY do not see why. I mean granted, it's a little off the beaten track but there's nothing too weird about it to be real. I am part of the YouTube whispering community. Let me just define for you what that is. Bascially...it is a group of vloggers, who do their vlogs (vlogs being video blogs) in a whispering voice. The reason for this is because it is much MUCH more relaxing than a regular voice. Not saying that...some of the whisperers don't use their normal voice sometimes when it is needed, but for the most part we whisper. The purpose of this is for relaxation. Because if you DO NOT know this, there are people out there who cannot sleep. Who have either mental or medical reasons why they cannot fall asleep. That would be me. That's how I found the community. I've tried pills, relaxing music, deep breathing exercises, all to get me to fall asleep. Nothing worked. My insomnia is a special kind of insomnia where my mind literally....LITERALLY won't shut up. It will actually take the part of a song and play it on loop for hours and hours on end. I know this is attributed to my anxiety disorder. I know that if I let the doctors give me sedatives that this would probably go away. But what would you rather do? Listen to your friends talk you to sleep or take heavy medication and kill your liver? Yah. I'd pick the first one too. What whispering does for me...is it gives my mind something to listen to. It is distracting enough that it drowns out the mental noise but soft enough to let me go to sleep. The community started out once upon a time, as solely for relaxation. Back in the day people only did readings and relaxation meditations. It was completely impersonal. However over time...the people in this community started realizing that they liked each other...as people...very much. Through their videos and writing comments and messages to each other, we became friends. And then people started talking about their daily lives and their frustrations and the things that made them happy. Now...we have...almost 300 whisperers and over 1000 listeners. You have your Holy Trinity Whisperers, WhisperingLife, DanishVlog, TheWhisperingvoice that started the group. WanderingWhisper was also part of it's conception. She was the first one that I found. Darling girl she is. Then you have your "oldies", Me (DecayingWhisper), SoothingWhisper, GlisteningWhisper, WaveringWhisper, WanderingWhisper, WhisperSister, WhisperTonic, MissVindicat, ButterflyHyJynx, HushJadey, ChineseWhispering, FurryWhisper TheDeafeningWhisper, TeenyWhispers, TotalRod2...oh there are so many I could pay credit to. There are SO many in this category. And then you have our Newbie Superstars. I call them "Superstars" because showing their face and being pretty are two common trends in their whispers, TheLunarWhisper, WhisperCrystal, CrisperWhisper, WhisperingKnight, SereneWhisper, WhisperHan...like I said...too many to list. Somehow....we all became friends. I mean legit friends. I mean....I am going to visit my buddies soon overseas and I am like...starting to cry thinking about it. These people...these friends of mine...have taken the pain away from me.

Sometimes when my stomach was full of rocks and I felt like I wasn't going to be able to breathe I would just go onto YouTube and listen to their videos about their day and when they give you shout outs and tell you that you're their friend and that you mean something to them...I'm in awe that these people that are so far away from me can care about me so much. And they make me laugh and they make me smile and when I make videos they tell me that they are wonderful and we give each other Internet hugs. We support each other. These people are my rocks. And I love everyone one of you like my own family. Some of you I might have just met, but I can tell you already mean the world to me.

To my loves

<3 Daniel, Joline, Bryan, Beth, Victoria, Maaike, Jardena, Paul, Kade, Iliana, Jen, Calvin <3

Forever in my heart.


End Day 50

Day Fifty Part One: Deactivating the Filter

I'm going to use a quote from my sister to start this entry:

"Katie, I live my life these days without a filter. I just say whatever the hell I want and I don't regret it. Because you never know when it's all going to be over."

This is a practice that I have been implementing in my life lately. The "No Filter" practice. To me it is the most important thing you could do for yourself, above quitting smoking, exercising, or eating right. Deactivating the filter.

We as humans tend to live our lives completely ruled by the filter. "I can't say this. And oooh no, I won't tell that person because he might hate me." I bet you've said that before, at least something to that effect. We don't do things because we're scared of judgment. We withhold important information from people because we're scared of rejection. We do it. All of us. And it's normal. It's natural. It's completely 100% the common thing to do. And removing the filter from our lives is one of the hardest things to do. Because it means we're going to get hurt. It means that people are going to reject you and people are going to laugh at you and people are going to tell you, you're wrong.

I guess with me I have lived my entire life being told "you're wrong". "You're stupid." 'You can't." So it doesn't have as much of an effect on me. That's why I'm not afraid to write this blog. People message me, "I would never have the balls to say what you say". And I return their statement with "Why?" Some people tell me, "You can only say the things you do because you're hiding behind a computer screen." Please. Suck my dick. Come over for lunch sometime. I'll make you something to eat and I'll tell you everything I'm saying now to your face. It might not be so witty and artfully crafted as it is in writing but it will be the same idea. I say what I want and how I want it. If you get offended or you have a problem with what I'm saying then challenge me. Produce an argument. Don't just stand there giggling to your cohorts, "wow she's a total freak"...TELL ME WHY I'M A FREAK. It literally does not matter to me. Because at least I said what I wanted to say.

It would be the biggest travesty if I died and no one ever knew what I had to say. That's everyone's crisis right now. People don't realize how urgent it is to be heard. They think, "I have all the time in the fucking universe" and then before you know it you're in your fucking 20s and and those people that were important to you aren't even in your life anymore. It is URGENT. I witnessed this last week when my sister's friend passed. Not 17 years old yet and dead. Did she get to say what she wanted before she died? Because if she didn't THAT....that right there is the tragedy. Being unheard.

I won't be unheard. The other day I was in class and I noticed one of the guys in my class had gorgeous eyes. When I was 15 I would have stared at him and internalized my need to tell him that he had gorgeous eyes and then go home and cry about it, "Why didn't I tell him?" SO many times in my life have I deployed the filter and I regretted it. So I told that boy what I was feeling. "You have gorgeous eyes." He blushed. He might have been a little embarrassed and the girls around me laughed at me. But that boy...would probably walk with a spring in his step for the rest of the day because someone gave him a compliment like that.

That's why I love Luna Lovegood. Everyone knows Harry Potter. If you DON'T know Harry Potter STEP AWAY FROM THE TWILIGHT BOOK AND READ SOME REAL LITERATURE. Luna Lovegood has no filter. And that's what I love about her character. She says what ever the fuck she wants, she wears what the fuck she wants and she does what the fuck she wants and she literally does not give a flying flip in hell what people think of her. That's wonderful. If Luna Lovegood was a real person I would be best friends with her. Best friends.

I tell people how I feel. If I'm attracted to you I'm going to tell you I'm attracted to you. If I think you're repulsive I'm going to tell you nicely....if you're getting in my face. I'm not going to go up to some random person and be like "you're gross." But if a guy that I'm really not into is getting up on me I'm going to tell him, "No thank you sir, you're not my type." If I want to wear TYE DYE leggings under my gym shorts (like I did last week) I WILL GOD DAMMIT! And people laughed at me and told me I looked like a dork and I was like, "Well thank you." This life is TOO short to live with the filter activated. People tell me all the time, "Katie you're too forward, you're too bold." Good! I'm glad! Because if I get struck by a vehicle when I walk out of my apartment complex today (which ALMOST happened last week! Yikes!) and I die, that's how you're going to remember me. If I tell you, "I love you", or "I think you're really cute and I care about you", that is going to be your special memory of me when I'm gone. I'm not saying I'm GOING anywhere. People tend to get up in arms when I talk about dying because of my track record with that. But I'm not going anywhere. But we'd all be stupid if we thought there wasn't a chance that...we could....at any point in time. And I want the last thing I say to you to be full with truth. I want it to be bold. I never want to die never having told you that I care about you, or that I love the way you wear your hair, or that you're my best friend in the entire world, or that you really helped me get through this and that I really really love spending time with you. Even if it might make you uncomfortable when I say it....you'll remember it. And when we're not together you'll think on that and say, "Katie cares about me" and it will be a good thing.

This is part one of today's entry. I have an exam to go take now, but I will be back and I will write on another topic that I wanted to discuss today AND catch up on the weekend which some of you may have noticed isn't there. Ooops. Lol.

End Part One

Day Forty-Nine: For the Love of C

I have come to the conclusion that either I am A) completely sick in the head or B) being tormented by the forces of nature.
I have come to terms with by now that I'm getting old. I mean not old. But older. I am no longer allowed to be a child. I cannot go trick-or-treating, I am legally an adult in a little over a month. I'm applying for graduate school. I have to pay for my own living and my mommy and daddy do not take care of me anymore. I'm a big girl now. I am independent. Or at least supposed to be. Even if in my mind I'm still 16 years old. I won't EVER understand how all of a sudden I became 21 years old. Literally. It's like I turned 16 and whatever happened after that is like....what the fuck? I must have taken a wrong turn because WHERE AM I? My little cousin Evan..who is like a brother to me...who I picked up and threw in the pool during summers...my baby bean...is FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS OLD. No. That's can't be right. He was like...10 last time I looked at him. Now he's like 5 foot 11 and has a deep voice and likes girls. When did this happen? And why am I OLD? This is distressing to me. Quite distressing.
While all the other girls and boys my age are interning and owning their own vehicles and becoming members of society I'm refusing to get a job and I still talk to my stuffed animals. (There is NOTHING wrong with that! Shut up) And while I sit in my Adolescent Psych class and Professor Umbridge (who is becoming less and less of a crack head as the semester progresses) I can't help but look around and think, "Does anyone else feel like this kind of applies to them too?" And actually that's not weird.
According to my textbook, the borderlines between adolescence and adulthood are completely different for everyone and vary amongst cultures. Some people don't become adults until their mid-20s. Although some theorists have created a separate stage of life for these people called "Young Adulthood". And this is my opinion. You can't put stipulations on people like that. Take me and a girl that I went to High School for instance. I will name this girl...L. L goes to nursing school. Which is a 2 year program. I am a psychology major, which is an 8 year program. L's family isn't very close. L's family pretty much pushed her out of the nest when she was 16 years old, gave her a car and said "have fun". My family didn't let me get in a vehicle until I was 17. They didn't let me have a job. They really didn't let me have friends. They wanted me to stay close to the family unit. I don't really drive. I cannot afford a vehicle right now and as intense as my studies are I cannot take on a job. So the result would be that from the start, L was a more independent person. Her schooling takes less time and costs less money. L doesn't have to rely on her parents as much. Me, my parents pay for my schooling and my apartment at the moment. I will be taking up the responsibility of apartment cost next year. I'm attending a four year undergraduate program right now that costs more money. Hence I am more reliant on my family. Especially because I don't have a car. Even though L is the same age as me...we're on totally different levels of development. That doesn't say ANYTHING about who we are as people and how we've developed mentally. It's just our situations in life are different. And I figure that somewhere along the line that will balance itself out. But certainly I feel much more of an adolescent than L would. Because of the parental dependency thing. I don't LIVE with them, I take care of myself on a daily basis. But the reason I even have a place to live right now is because of my father.
But this isn't what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about dating. Typically...since the beginning of puberty, I have always dated younger guys. My first boyfriend at 13 was a year younger than me. That was a joke. My second boyfriend was a year younger than me. My 3rd boyfriend was the same age as me. My fourth was 2 years younger than me. My sixth was the same age as me. And my seventh was 2 years younger than me. I have NEVER dated someone older. I don't know why that is. I like younger guys. If I'm going to play psychologist right now, I would deem it some kind of...deep seated need to nurture and to care for and to teach...if you know what I mean. I like to be the experienced one. But for some reason when it comes to decision making and sex I like to be submissive. Strange. Anyway. But I've never been into the massive age differences. My sister does this. She is 17 years old and only dates older men. She loves them in their early twenties. But I've never gone for anyone HER age or younger. First of all I think that's illegal here. In the US the age of consent is 18 years old and the shit that happens to people that get messed up in that is NOT pretty. I understand why the law is there. In my opinion I think it's reasonable. So I've never flirted with it. Besides, all the 15, 16, 17 year old boys are like...babies! Little. Skinny. Pubescent. Until I met C.
C has made everything go awry in the most adorable way possible. C literally smiled his way into my life. I'm a smiles person. I've mentioned this before. C had me at the very first smile. It's gorgeous. And without exaggeration at all...it is literally the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen on a human being. His mouth is like...shaped like a strawberry. He's got a full upper lip (which gets me every time) and sort of a pout. And he has lovely teeth. He's got the whole vampire teeth thing going on which my closest friends know sends me off the deep end. And then there's the Celtic god hair and the sad, droopy eyes, his thick eyebrows. Oh dear God why do you test me so?? C...does not look his age. If C never told anyone his age everyone would think C was 21 years old. This is the general consensus amongst my internet friends. I'd like to mention that C is an internet fried as well. I have not taken part in any delinquent activities. But I look. And who can't help but look? I look, and I blush and I look away. What the hell is that all about? I will not mention C's age here to avoid flames. If C looked like a normal boy his age I swear to God this wouldn't be an issue.
And then comes his personality. I have never..ever...witnessed such a sweet, wholesome, kind, gentle, caring and intelligent person. His eyes speak of years far far older than he really is. We have a lot A LOT in common. I'm starting to realize this more and more and he's...pensive and sensitive and pretty much my ideal man. And the kicker is...even though he lives overseas...before I even met him I was planning on moving to his country around the area where he lives. Now. What the hell? Why is this being set up this way? Is this supposed to be happening to me? Is this good? I am so confused. It just doesn't seem fair especially because I never asked to be 21 years old yet!
They say that when trauma occurs, sometimes, you mentally freeze in whatever age you were at that time. My mother is the epitome of this phenomenon. She is physically 55 years old, but when she was a teenager, her family treated her like a piece of shit and now she is mentally frozen as a 16 year old girl. I'm not saying because she parties like she's a teenager. I mean LITERALLY she does not have the reasoning of someone her age. Her thought process is exactly that of a 16 year old girl. When I was 15 years old I was doped up. It's my fault. I did this to myself. I asked my psychiatrist for behavior meds. I felt like it was going to make me happier. I felt like it was going to make me a better person. It didn't. All it did was make me completely mental and numb every emotion and feeling I could have. I remember lying on my back in my room staring up at the ceiling for 7 hours. Just lying there. Not feeling. Not wanting to move. Not wanting to eat. Wanting to hurt myself. To hurt other people. Being fifteen was a scary place for me. And I wouldn't really want to go back to that point but, I'm afraid that this fear of growing up comes from the feeling that I never really got a chance to be young. Playing parent to my sister. Figuring out life by myself with no guidance. And then being treated like a science experiment until I was 19 years old by doctors because they couldn't figure out why I was gaining ridiculous amounts of weight in such a short period of time! I was injected and extracted from more times that I can count in the last 4 years. I have to cry a little bit while I write this. It's almost too much for me to remember. I never got a chance to be young. And this has been a burden on my chest for a very long time. Meeting C and in a sense "falling for him" has just brought these issues to the forefront and I'm not afraid to talk about them anymore.
Do souls have ages? I don't think so. You can say someone is "an old soul" but, the actual soul...is there an age? I guess you would have to answer the question, "are there souls at all?" Is everything completely physical or is there something more to who we are? And does it really matter? Where C comes from this isn't illegal. Well it won't be. Soon. I compared the ages of consent in each country and I wondered why it was that they were vastly different. It's a culture thing I think. Why are Europeans always more mature? Why do they drink earlier than us? Why do they DRIVE later than us? Why do Americans force the issue of "young forever" down our throats? Why is it different? From what I have seen, and what I have experienced, people in Europe tend to be more mature thinkers than Americans. They're definitely schooled better. They're exposed to more culture. I guess with maturity there is more privilege. I wonder if that's why it's different?
But what I cannot ignore is that smile. I cannot stop looking into the eyes of one of the kindest people I have met. I can't stop being interested in someone who genuinely makes me happy. Who makes me laugh and puts a smile on my face even when my world feels like it's coming down on top of me. I will not stop getting to know C. Laws of different societies cannot stop people from knowing one another and interacting with each other. That's ludicrous. But it's happened before....meh. But that's a bit too political for my taste. You can hate on me. Tell me I'm a sick person. It's fine. I'll take it. For now I've found a friendship in someone that fascinates me on all levels. And I think that is the best thing anyone can ever have.
I will end this with an Amy Lee quote:

"But who can decide what they dream? And dream I do..."

End Day 49

Day Forty-Six: Rant About Life and My Future Profession

I've come to the realization that any box of Sweetarts is going to be 95% pink Sweetarts. Which sucks, because pink is my least favorite flavor. They know this too. The Wonka establishment. They KNOW that blue tastes 90 times better than pink and that pink tastes like some capsulized version of cough syrup mixed with acid and blue tastes like sex. So they throw like...10 blues in a box of like...200 Sweetarts and of course fail to get your fill of blue Sweetarts so you go to buy another box and force yourself to eat like 80 more pink Sweetarts in order to get the blues. That's the way life is. One person screwing you over at a time.
It's like...YOU held up your end of the deal. YOU gave the lady the $3 at the obscenely overpriced University Bookstore for your box of candies and THEY...the corporation fucks you over. And you realize this right after you walk out of the store, open your box and find a flood of pink chalky disks with NO blue in sight.
It's like jobs and relationships.
Today my father of 63 lost his final and last contract. He no longer has a job. My father is one of the hardest working, most committed people I know. In fact he is the SOUL reason I even have a work ethic. For 40 something years my father held up his end of the bargain with those companies and for 40 something years he put in his time and he did what he was supposed to and he was a DAMN good employee. And all of a sudden some little young jerk comes along, thinks he knows the business and my father gets the boot. While he's going through a God damned divorce and still has a kid in high school. It's like when they give you that 30 days notice....it's like looking into that box full of pink candies.
It's also like my relationship with Jude. I put in the time. I gave 150% in that relationship. I gave much much more than Jude ever gave, and where do I end up? The fool. The stupid fool who was robbed of two years of her life, left with NO ONE. Because she was stupid enough to isolate herself from everyone else to better accommodate her relationship that ended up blown to smithereens. I gave my $3 and all I got was a box of pink Sweetarts.
I've been reading "It's Kind of a Funny Story" by Ned Vizzini. I've decided that I like it. It took me awhile to decide but I like it. It's a bit more...dialouge-y than what I normally pick. But I get that. There are times when all I do is write dialogue. I'm in the shower and suddenly I think "Oh, that would be clever to say there" and so I get out and write an entire dialogue set between two characters. I can see where he's coming from. I like Ned. I think he does well.
I had a friend on Facebook comment on my status the other day when I was talking about buying the book. It was more so of a textual punch in groin than a comment. I've been getting a lot of those lately. Textual punches in the groin. I'm wondering if maybe people are just in foul moods lately or it's "Let's Hate on Everything Katie Ever Thinks" month. This friend was OBVIOUSLY hospitalized in a mental institution before and kind of jabbed my in the throat for being excited about a drama about a teen that become institutionalized. She said something to the effect of, "Mental institutions are gross and horrible and this is completely mocking them and making light of the subject". And while that MAY or MAY NOT be true, MY OWN opinion resides here. The reason most mental institutions are so gross and terrible is because the people in charge of them couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone in there. In psychology we do not CURE people. There is no CURE for mental illness. If there was we'd all be running up and down the street throwing streamers at our neighbors and singing "Old McDonald Had a Farm". In psychology we TREAT mental illness. So in all honestly there really isn't any HEALING going on in the psychology department. We're not healers we're supporters. We're highly trained individuals who THINK we know what's going on in your head that know EXACTLY what to say to make you feel like we know what we're talking about and then you give us a lot of money to give you a generic "This is what you should do about this..." that if you REALLY wanted to think for yourself you could have come up with that too. And you thought we were so noble. PLEASE. We're JUST like you. Just as fucked up. Just as angry. Just as lost. Just as sad. We're basically professional moral support. Which in my opinion...is a worthwhile investment. Since so many other people in your life are just as emotional and ridiculous as you. Here's the catch though. 98% of people who are psychiatrists today DO NOT CARE ABOUT THEIR PATIENTS. They went into undergrad thinking "Oooh. I'm going to major in psychology because psychiatrist make bank." Literally. I'm a psychology major. I hear it all the time. It's not because they WANT TO or they CARE ABOUT YOU. It's because at the end of the day they know all the have to do is say "It's your mother's fault" and they can go home to their house in the hills and sip wine until they have to wake up the next morning and do it all over again. But where does the other 2% fall? Well. That would be me.
Hi guys. I'm Katie. I'm a psychology major because when I was a child I was verbally, physically, and emotionally abused by everyone in my life. I am 21 years old now and it took me about that long to figure out why the hell I am on this earth and who I am. That was REALLY hard. That was HORRIBLE trying to figure that out on my own. Gee. I might know a few things about the way the mind works. I might KNOW how to relate to people who come into my office bawling because their mother calls them a fat whore and their friends spit on them and ostracize them at school. And HEY! I'm a pretty smart cookie. I could become a psychologist. And so. I did. Because the ONE thing I can't stand is to watch people suffer. I can't do it. I FEEL it when someone else suffers. And I can't watch someone suffer the same way I did. That's why I can't stand fat people. It makes me so sad. Because I'm fat. I've been fat my entire life. And the emotional and physical pain is something that NO ONE can get rid of. It's there for the rest of your life no matter how thin you get. And when I see other people struggling with the same thing it makes it unbearable to be around them. Because you KNOW what they suffer with. You KNOW the feeling they're having when they can't buy the clothes they like and people are talking shit about them. So it makes it worse. So I thought....if I could have the chance...to spare people the mistakes that I made...if I had the chance to change someone's path for the better so they don't end up like me...that would be awesome.
My dream is to become a doctor. A psychiatrist. And I want to head up a teen psych ward in a mental hospital. And when I do, it won't be a holding cell for messed up kids. It's not going to be a place that people just drop off their kids so that I can medicate them and tell them that they're good boys and girls and one day they are going to succeed and then dope them up some more. That's not going to happen. There is something seriously fucking wrong with this business. And I've heard more and more horror stories and guess what? I've been there. I've been a victim of a fucking shrink that just wanted to line her pockets with my mommy's cash. I've been doped up before. I've been treated like a failure. I've been a zombie before and a slave to what my psychiatrist says is right for me. That's why I'm not going to be that way. Perhaps I'll become one of the only "healers" in this field one day.
I like this book by Ned Vizzini. Because it depicts something dark in a positive way. It shows that even when you're the worst you can be there's still something right around the corner. This book is hopeful and when other kids who are struggling like Craig, the main character, read that book or see that movie they might feel better. So guess what. The girl who commented that on status a few weeks ago can suck my dick. For real. The reason you're so miserable is because you let yourself be that way. Did someone ever tell you that? Well. There you go. Stop sucking the happiness out of people's lives. Thanks.

End Day 46

Day Forty-Five: Teacher's Pet

I got something to admit right now. I LOVE being a teacher's pet. All right I'll give you a moment to scoff at me and call me names...that's cool I'll wait.




Are you done now? Ok cool. I can't help it. I love it. I love when a teacher pats me on the head and sets me up as an example in front of the class as smart and talented. I LIKE the feeling of being better than everyone else. If only for a moment. That could never be a permanent thing with me. I hate having too much attention. And frankly, I don't think I could handle being better than everyone else outside of a classroom setting. Because it's meaningless. Like...oooh good job....you have a designer bag...you're technically better than everyone else because mostly everyone else can't afford that. Kudos. But what does that really mean? Because the moment your dog chews up the lining in that bad boy the moment you won't be better than everyone else. But in the classroom...that's forever. You can't...chew up knowledge. You can't STOP being smart. I mean you can REALLY try but you really can't un-know things. So when I do a good job and a teacher makes a spectacle out of me and I look back and see everyone's pissed, annoyed faces it's euphoric. And ooh. The OTHER people like me....the other teacher's pets that want to know everything...when I get made spectacle of and they don't...the bewilderment and jealousy on their face is delicious. It's like "Oh that's right. What? Who did awesome? Who's smarter than you. That's right. Woop woop!" There's a specific red head in my Statistics class that IS my intellectual rival in the class. And I KNOW that we both equally piss off everyone around us but it's nice to have our own little competition going on in our private world.
Today in French class I got my first "plus un", which means "Plus one" in French if that wasn't obvious. Anissa was teaching us something...I can't really remember...something to do with the subjunctive....OH! Emotions. We were covering that again. And she was making us make sentences with this tense. Well basically....no one volunteers to talk a loud in that class. I get it. I know where they're coming from. I like to keep my dignity intact for the day too. But I thought, "what the hell...I hate my life enough right now anyway...so might as well". I RAISED MY HAND....which is unheard of. Anissa looked at me like I had just put on a chicken suit and ran around the classroom. I could just see her face was like, "What iz zis?" I love typing her accent. It makes me laugh. So I gave her a perfect sentence in French. Perfect. I pronounced everything right. And she looked at me with the cutest form of glee I had ever seen. She clasped her hands together and said "VERY GOOD KAY-TEE! VERY GOOD!" She ran to the board and wrote the sentence down and said "Ploos uhn, KAY-TEE!" I was like "heh heh heh". I couldn't help but smile to myself. Anissa only gives "plus un"'s when you do something really good. I guess she was like...so startled that someone volunteered to talk.
So I was kind of like, "heh heh Anissa loves me" in my head as I was walking to Statistics. It really frightens me how much I need teacher's acceptance sometimes. Actually...how much I need PEOPLE'S attention sometimes.
Well then I got to the math study hall and pulled out my homework. I am really surprised about Statistics as a class. I've heard NOTHING but horror stories about it. It's SO hard. It's IMPOSSIBLE. I think I lucked out because I got a good teacher. Lian is like a no bullshit kind of teacher. He doesn't toot his horn because he knows math and he doesn't try to MAKE you fail because he's Asian and Asian people really don't ever bring their emotional lives into their studies like fucking Americans do. This is not a fact it's just an observation. He's also a PhD graduate student so he's humble about himself. He's not a DOCTOR yet so it's like...he's not a jerk about it. I mean when he tutors you it might seem like he's talking down to you or being mean. But really it's because he doesn't speak English well. When he was tutoring me one time instead of saying "Can I see your pen?" he said "Show your pen!" He doesn't ask things really he just commands and says simple sentences in English. Which makes me laugh. I don't really mind. But I am finding Statistics to be not easy but challenging. Which is good. It's not easy for me but it's not hard. It's challenging. It gives me something to work with and it's not impossible to figure out. There are sometimes communication errors in a lesson so sometimes it takes me a few classes to figure out where he's coming from. But I usually get it. Well he gives us homework problems to do and he picks random kids each time to do them on the board.
I started working the problem and I was surprised that I got it mostly right except for a few semantic errors, where I didn't write my conclusion right or do the write notation for something. Lian was in the study hall with an exchange student from Africa. She was really struggling with the concepts and he was like....fussing at her...I didn't really know what was going on but I just did my own thing. Lian always stares at me. I can FEEL him looking at me. It's creepy. After he finished bitching out the exchange student he came over and looked over my shoulder at my homework and pointed out my few errors but told me it was correct and gave me what...I think...was some kind of praise. I don't really know. He helped me correct my other homework problem that I had misunderstood and when I was done he left and I shitted around on the computer until I went upstairs for class.
Well in class he decided that he was going to use the entire 50 minutes to go over the homework problems. He kept asking "Who wants to do number fiyoh?" and no one would do it. He saw me and said, "You. Do." and pointed the chalk at me. I guess he knew that I had the right answer already so I was like "Ok, cool." So I got up and taught the class the problem. It was a long problem and was very complicated and I was kind of afraid that I wasn't explaining it right. Red head girl in the front was FUMING. She was so pissed that I was up there doing the problems and explaining them and Lian was standing next to me nodding his head. He doesn't like to give praise much so he just said, "Thas right." And I went and sat back down. SEE? That's what I'm talking about. I love to feel intellectually special. It's just a rush.
Anyway. That's my teacher's pet confession.

End Day 45