Where Were You While We Were Getting HIgh?

So yes, what did I do this fine evening of 4/20? I enjoyed my time by going to Walmart (by the way, saying I enjoyed anything but the company is a lie... I fear that horrible place soo much) and then to taco bell (bean burrito = still not a good idea) and then Dustin, Jen, and I drove up and down high street blasing Journey's timeless classic, "Don't Stop Believin'." It was really very exciting.

Shoot. I had something inspirational to say and I forget now.

Angsty McAngsterson

Okay well originially this was going to be a brief post summing up in abstract terms how I feel but now I have something to actually concretely vent about. And that is: blogger. Sweet blogger, original, old school blogger, I miss you so. Now i have to have this stupid google thing to get on my blog. Now like, I know google will one day take over the planet and probably a few others for kicks, but why must they change the familiar? They took over YouTube and changed it, why do they have to change this? Assholes.

And also today in Spanish was sufficiently AWKWARD because we did like a match.com thing and she kept picking on me. And the boy in my group, who totally didn't listen to anything I said (not that any of us listen, we just talk so we don't get yelled at) stupidly said, "ella le gusta mucho musica de country" when I CLEARLY stated "me choca mucho musica de country" and so I could not let that slip by so I had to call him out. I simply will not allow my name and reputation to be sullied by having people think I like country- I mean honestly, it's the only form of dignity I have left. Also, he couldn't remember anything else I said at all (I mean, props for getting the country thing at least in there, even if the whole verbage was lost) and so he was like, "es simpatica?" which also clearly wasn't one of my descriptives about myself. I mean, I'm not a total liar, right? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical. But I mean, nice? Are you kidding? If I wrote an accurate description it would have been something along the lines of "soy cynica y sarcastica, no me gustan mucho otras personas, voy a quedar sola para siempre, y me choca mucho musica de country." I decided most of those things were to "un-match.com" for the class, and I didn't want to completely fail, so the only accurate statement was the "me choca mucho.." you get the idea.

If anyone who reads this (aka no one) hasn't yet noticed, my self-esteem is like dead. I plan on self-loathing and hatred for the rest of my life (I mean, I already had that covered, but we're going to kick it up a notch, n+1 on the series scale [yeah that was a disgusting reference to Calculus, I'm sorry]) and I would be best off engaging myself in school, which is pretty much all I have left. My sanity and dignity is shot to hell, and I'm not even sure how badly, but I know pretty badly.

Anyway, the real thing I wanted to say today was: How are you supposed to get other people to forgive you if you can't even forgive yourself?

Now Who You Gonna Wave To?

wound tally:

bruises: nine (three on hands, one on arm, four on both legs, giant bump on head)
Cuts: sever gnawing marks from Jack (who is a dog, for whatever you people might think)
Internal injuries: possibly a broken nose, okay, not broken, but it definately hurts. Lots of nausea, but I don't know if that's related to last night.
other: my soul bleeds. Okay not really but thanks to today, well technically yesterday, my head is really muddled and I have no idea what is happening in this world around me (though my chemistry book tells me that it has something to do with intermolecular forces that keep my "flesh from dripping off [my] body"

I think I'm most concerned about the bruise on my arm. It's on the inside and it looks like a punchture wound and I wonder if that stupid dog bit me and now I'm going to have to have my arm sawed off, like that guy on House who had a dog bite his leg and then had to get it sawed off.

I'm so fucking tired and I can't sleep because when I lay down I have to think and thinking is unpleasant for me.

You know what's wierd? For like thirty seconds today, after I did my laundry, I wished I could go home. I mean, obviously, I immediately realized that that wouldn't do me any good at all, and would infact make me even more miserable. But still. I'm such a fucking coward, I just want to run away from everything.

I've Never Been Too Good With Secrets

so you know what's really amazing?

How twenty-four hours can change your outlook on life.

What's even more amazing?

When it only takes ten minutes.

Shit-damn.