bananas

someone you know and love is gay

I saw a P-Flag billboard on the way home today, and it was wonderful and I almost cried. When was the last time you saw a billboard that acknowledged that gay people exist? Probably never in Oklahoma.

clean, finally

It feels quite good to be clean. I left early, before everyone else. They went on the river again, which I thought I was going to do, too, until this morning when I woke up exhausted and with back pains and body pains and surgery-scar pains. And I thought the most prudent thing to do would be to skip the river and go home and shower and rest so that I would be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for work on Monday morning. Also I was kind of weepy and homesick and I just wanted to go home and wash the nature out of my hair. I get homesick really easily and really quickly. Usually after about four days vacation stops being fun and I start just wishing I were home. I know why I'm like that. I'll probably write about it later. I've been dissecting myself for a very long time, and I have a good handle on my inner workings (not physically, apparently, since I was walking around for months with a gallbladder bomb).

I decided to skip the second float, of course, after I had already told Mom she could come and float with us. So Kate and Emily get to float with Mom, I mean Nancy, without me. Good thing my mom is cool and hilarious.

I did have a very good time camping. I think the best part was the tent. And the campfire. And the chatting. I had a good time. I think it was especially good for my first real camping-in-adulthood adventure, even though there were lots of bugs, and even though people thought it would be cool to play their shitty music really loud. It's ok, though. The last night we were there the people in the campsite next to us busted out their acoustic guitar and played some nice songs, including "Let it Be" and "What I Got" (the Sublime song). I liked that, and I sang along in my tent and let them serenade me to sleep.

The worst parts of camping were the bugs (due to my phobia of bugs getting in my hair), having to share a port-a-potty with drunk boys who can't aim (and I seriously thought I was through with floor pee-ers when I stopped living with Jacob), and the fact that I brought all of my medicine except my Prozac. But those are minor things. Camping was still really special and awesome.

Yes. Great fun. And no one got horror-movie murdered or anything like that. All in all, a smashing success.

camping

Things I like about camping: rafting, beer, the secret universe of my tent, hotdogs, marshmallows, chatting, the real oil lantern Dave let me borrow, trail mix and beef jerky, campfires, coolers full of yummies, morning fog, nature noises, the amazing stars.

Things I don't like about camping: bugs, bugs, the threat of raccoon attacks, gross idiots and their awful music, bugs, being cold at night because I brought a blanket and not a sleeping bag, what sleeping on an air mattress does to my back, bugs.

i want to have these at my birthday party (in august)

Strawberry Basil Mojito

3 fresh strawberries
3-5 fresh basil leaves
2 oz. simple syrup
2 oz. white rum
crushed ice
club soda

Slice the strawberries and place at the bottom of a tall glass along with the basil leaves. Pour in the simple syrup and muddle the mixture. Stir in the rum and top with crushed ice. Top off with club soda and garnish with strawberry slices.

from drinkoftheweek.com

frog and toad and frog

From my sister: "I don't really understand what's going on or how the toad got up there. It's all very confusing."

The funny thing about this picture is that toads can't stick on glass like frogs can. This one just jumped up and wedged itself between the lady frog and the glass. And then the boy frog jumped up there because he was jealous or something.

tomato?

Look at these heirloom tomatoes from Whole Foods. Crazycakes!

blergsauce

Ok. I know I've been pissy (and on the wp) about the whole California gay marriage thing of late. But, you know, it's hard not to be, and I blog that shit to get the feelings out so they don't poison me. It's frustrating and ridiculous, and I don't even live in California. I was born there, though, so I feel some connection to it.

But. Here's the thing. Gay marriage will happen. It will. It's only a matter of time. Each subsequent generation becomes more progressive and open-minded. Kids these days, most of them, don't give a shit if you're gay. Even young Southern Baptists feel they have more important things to worry about than gay marriage (according to my mother, anyway).

I promise though, young people don't have these weird hangups about sexuality. And those old fag-bashing fucktards will be dead soon, or in crappy nursing homes their gay children put them in.

So don't worry. (I am mostly saying this to myself.) It's all gravy. And patience is a virtue. This does not mean that I won't be upset by the setbacks and the cruelty of hateful people. This does not mean I won't bitch about it more in the future. It just means that in my heart I know that might does not make right, and all this ridiculousness is only the dying gasps of an outmoded, archaic, laughable way of thinking.

And one day, all that will be left is embarrassment. The DOMA will go the way of miscegenation laws and our children will think us silly. Some of them won't believe there were ever laws that prevented two people in love from marrying. And that will be awesome.

shenannies

We are having too much fun at Forest Party 2: Revenge of Forest Party.

first guest to forest party 2

We found a baby garter snake! It was really cute. We put it in the neighbor's yard so Tyler wouldn't eat it.

besties

Dave and Jade are best friends forever.

p.s. Dave made that gourd-cup, and the metal straw thingy.

bollocks!

The California Supreme Court upheld Prop. 8. It was a 6-1 decision. Asses. Props to Justice Carlos Moreno for having balls and being the lone dissenter. At least they let the 18,000 marriages stand. Probably because they were afraid of a riot on the courthouse steps. How ridiculous though. Laughable and shameful. The whole fucking thing.

Gay people aren't as angry as they used to be. They've all gone mainstream and started families. Become complacent. It's unfortunate. This country needs more angry fags. Gays bash back, and all that.

Oh well. Progress is slow and frustrating. We'll always have Iowa, though. Unless they decide to pass a constitutional amendment, as well.

This issue will make it all the way to the US Supreme Court, at some point. Hopefully after some of the conservative justices have been replaced by Obama appointees. A girl can dream, can't she?

prop 8 ruling today (and other gay stuff)

The California Supreme Court ruling on Prop 8 will be released an noon (central time) today. The court will post opinions about three cases challenging Prop 8 here. I'm nervous about it.

And then Obama announced Sonia Sotomayor as the new US Supreme Court appointee. I don't yet know how I feel about her. She's not replacing a conservative, so she's not really changing the way the court leans, unfortunately. And I don't know if she'll support gay rights or not. She's Catholic. I just don't know. And fucking Alito is still there, that asshole. I'm still hoping that he will just drop the fuck dead on top of an underage male prostitute. That would make my day, for sure. I'd also be satisfied with rectal cancer forcing him to retire. I know it's not very nice of me to say such things, but there's no law that says I have to talk nice about Sam Alito.

Anyway, back to gay stuff. This organization I've never heard of called GLAD, Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders (not to be confused with GLAAD, Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) has filed a lawsuit on behalf of people who have been denied federal marriage benefits or protections because of Section 3 of the DOMA. (.pdf of the complaint) Section 3 says that even if a same-sex couple is married in a certain state, they are not considered to by married by the federal government. The Department of Justice must respond to the lawsuit by June 22nd.

So that's good, maybe. At least they have to respond. We'll see how that plays out. Things are happening. People are making moves. It seems like this country is moving in a forwardish direction re: gay rights. Mostly. We'll find out about California in about an hour. Sigh.

please, mr. postman, i don't want any more letters

In my vast experience with the United States Postal Service, only bad things come in the mail. Well, mostly bad things: medical bills, utility bills, other bills, rejection letters, collection notices, cutoff notices, credit card applications, letters from stalkers whose only way to contact you is through the mail. Stuff like that. So I usually hate the mail, even though sometimes good things come, like grant checks and Netflix. I still sometimes feel like opening the mailbox is a bit like playing Russian roulette.

Silly me, though, I thought I was in the clear re: correspondence from my ex. Not so! I got a letter last week, like a day after Mom told me she received (and disposed of without telling me, per my request) a letter postmarked Chicago around Christmastime and she thought maybe the ex had moved back there. I said, "Maybe now I can stop panicking every time I see a light blue Toyota Yaris." Then I receive a letter postmarked Tulsa from her. So she's still out there, lurking. Which is great.

So, due to this latest Postal Service related incident, I think I will be making my blog private. Not quite yet, though, because I am really pissed about it. I shouldn't have to do it. I want to share my awesomeness with the world, you know? Make some sort of positive waves by living my life the way I live it, unapologetically. Show people how to really live.

Anyway. It pisses me off. I am just trying to live me life and be happy. Trying to move past certain things. It's hard when people refuse to let go. My mantra, via The Gift of Fear, is "The best response is no response."

What I hate the most about all of this is her forcing me to think about her. I don't want to think about her. I don't want to think about how awful dying feels, except as a reminder of why I chose myself over someone else. I want it out of my mind.

And I'm not to the point yet, where the experience becomes some innocuous piece of my past, just a learning experience. There's still rawness about it, especially since she keeps insisting on inserting herself into my mailbox and into my life, even if only for as long as it takes to destroy a letter and write a blog about my feelings so I don't have to think about it anymore.

I am unmanipulable, though. Fuck all that. I am so strong and healthy now, and I don't abide bullshit, and I don't abide ego-stealers. And now that I have written out my feelings I can stop thinking about it and what a violation it is. It's gone. I'm releasing it. I refuse to allow her to occupy my thoughts any longer. I hope she gets her shit sorted out.

dave's two plates

That is Dave's dinner. He loves food. You are jealous of our awesome cookout.

tiny notebooks!

My tiny notebooks came in the mail. They are so wonderful! Dinosaurs are my favorite.

pixel-kismet

My phone takes videos! Really crappy videos, but it's still exciting!

dulce et decorum est

by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

new phone

I got a fancy new phone. It is really cool. I'm quite thrilled about it. Also it has GPS. And lots of other awesome things.

kismet likes hanging out in her cat cube

the sexual deviate

Krystal has this book. It was published in 1963. It's pretty hilarious. And fucked. But we are safely in 2009, so it is ok to laugh about it.

One passage that was particularly enlightening: ''Thus a lesbian does not seek out women as lovers because of some inner craving for homosexual relations but because of some basic psychic imbalance.... Whatever the cause, we may be fairly secure in assuming her lesbianism is, at root, a manifestation of some inner emotional problem.''

Great, right? I'm glad someone finally figured it out. Thanks, 1963. You're awesome.

Fucking yikes, though. Seriously.

p.s. What really cheeses me off about the book is that fags don't even have their own section in it. Like we're not even good enough or important enough to get a chapter in the pervert book. It's the visibility thing. Le argh. Fuckers.

work is so hard

We are playing book-themed fake Monopoly. To pass the time. I am the bookworm, of course.

just don't eat the seeds

reason for the season

It's cherry season, motherfuckers. (This means you, Emily. We *will* be having cherries at your fabulous pool parties. I'll make sure of it.)

i love you with all of my ham-heart

Breakfast is best with a side of love. Also I may be delirious from sleep deprivation. Ham-heart.

gay is cool

Only in the alley behind the Blue Dome Diner can you find graffiti this awesome and hilarious.

salmon with mango

Laura cooked it. It was, um, completely incredible.

shut it down

I almost bought a Playstation 3 today. Let me rephrase that, for accuracy's sake: I briefly considered buying a Playstation 3 today, until I remembered that my buyer's guilt increases exponentially after an item reaches the $100 mark.

On my way to pick up my car from the repair shop in my favorite place in the world, Broken Arrow, I decided I wanted to buy an iPod because I love my music and I was tired of listening to the awful radio. Even NPR sucks because all they talk about is the fucking war and the fucking economy, and I can only take so much of that. Anyway, I was riding on the high that comes when you are certain you are going to have to shell out a significant sum of money for something, and then, surprisingly, it ends up costing you much less than you expected. Hence the desire for an iPod.

I retrieved my car and was feeling pretty awesome. On my way to Best Buy to look at iPods the hedonistic part of me was like, "Hey, you know what would be ever more fun and exciting than a boring old iPod? A Playstation 3." And then I thought about how fun it would be to set it up at Andrea's (because that's my daytime residence, usually) and then wait for them to come home from climbing to the surprise of me playing Soul Calibur IV on their fancy new TV. That made me smile. So I decided I would look at the iPods and the gaming systems and decide from there.

I hovered around in Best Buy for a while, touching things. I looked at the ridiculously expensive gaming systems and all of the weird stuff you can buy for them. I looked at the mp3 players. I wandered around. I felt weird because salespeople are creepy and I didn't want any of them to think I wanted to buy anything. I looked at all of the games, specifically Grand Theft Auto and Soul Calibur.

Honestly, I think I was mostly attracted to how Dave and my sister would react to seeing the Playstation. I mean, I love video games and a Playstation 3 would be totally awesome, but the thought of a surprise that awesome is infinitely better. A Playstation 3 is like $400 for the cheap one, not counting all the extra things you need for it. I can't spend that kind of money on something that frivolous. I get horrible pangs of guilt after spending a tenth as much money as it would have cost me for that thing. Christ. I quickly realized this and Liz Lemon popped into my mind. "Shut it down," she said.

I quickly exited the store. Never make an electronics purchase on an empty stomach. My mind was weak from hunger, obviously, or else I would not have fallen for this trick of my impulsivity. Money is such a huge issue for me. I am terrified of not having enough. (For that matter, I'm terrified of not having enough of just about everything.) I'm trying to get over it. Making impulse electronics purchases is not the way to go about it, though.

It's just weird. I hate buying things. Some people, people who have never been poor, get pleasure from the mere act of spending money. I do not. I get anti-pleasure. I hate it. Buying something is always such a big decision, and my weird OCD perfectionism leads me to think I have always made the wrong decision.

Sigh. You guys know how I do. I'm fucking neurotic. I've come to accept it. It's better this way, really, because if anyone ever makes a movie about me it won't be boring. It will be hilarious. I'll be the lesbian, non-creepy Woody Allen, which means my costar will be a young Diane Keaton. And I won't make her feel bad for smoking grass before we fuck.

worst calendar ever

We have these awful things at work. No one wants them. I think we're going to have to start paying people to take them.

Who wants a calendar with a bunch of creepy, dressed-up monkeys? They're free, totally useful, and definitely won't give you monkey nightmares.

three green and speckled frogs

all go down together

Have I told you that I love Will Ferrell with all of my heart? And I love a Billy Joel song covered by the entire cast of SNL.

Fritz: Any summer plans, gentlemen? Any vacay-cays coming your way way way?
Kenan: Yeah I think the missus and I are heading down to Mexico for a couple weeks in June.
Fritz: Oooh. Mexico, land of the rising sun. I love it. How about you, Keith?
Keith: Well, with the new baby it's going to be more like a staycation, as in stay-up-while-she-cries-cation.
Fritz: Yeah, sometimes the gift of life is the gift of having no life. How about you Ray? Where in the world is Raymond Federico going?
Ray: Well, Jennifer and I have always wanted to travel through Southeast Asia, maybe hit Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam. You've been to Vietnam, haven't you, Fritz?
Keith: Fritz, what was Vietnam like? Fritz? Is that a helicopter?

We met as soul mates
On parris island
We left as inmates
From an asylum
And we were sharp
As sharp as knives
And we were so gung ho
To lay down our lives

Kenan: Ok, when was he in Vietnam?
Keith: He went there on vacation, like four years ago. What time of year did you go?

We had no cameras
To shoot the landscape
We passed the hash pipe
And played our doors tapes
And it was dark
So dark at ni-ni-ni-ni-ni-night
And we held on to each other
Like brother to brother
We promised our mothers we'd write
And we would all go down together
We said we'd all go down together
Yes we would all go down together

Ray: Wow. So he just visited Vietnam, like a tourist?
Keith: Yeah.
Kenan: Did something bad happen to him?
Keith: I think he lost his luggage.

We held the day
In the palm
Of our hand
They ruled the night
And the night
Seemed to last as long as six weeks
On parris island
We held the coastline
They held the highlands
And they were sharp
As sharp as kni-kni-kni-kni-kni-knives
They heard the hum of our motors
They counted the rotors
And waited for us to arrive
And we would all go down together
We said we'd all go down together
Yes we would all go down together

Keith: Wait a second. He just left without paying.
Ray: Why do we always fall for that?

gay dog brothel

Apparently I completely forgot to mention that my aunt's brothel is a gay brothel. With doggie daycare for gay dogs only. Straight dogs get eaten. Not by other dogs. That would be cannibalism. The dogs eat straight people.

It's really a perfect system that addresses both human and canine overpopulation. China should really be endorsing gay dog brothels. It's like A Modest Proposal, only gayer. And brothel-er. And hilarious-er.

See. My aunt is a pioneer. Revolutionary. In a perfect world, her work in gay dog brothels might win her the Nobel Prize someday. Sadly, though, she may never be recognized as the genius she is. She is ahead of her time.

Give it like 100 years. They'll be writing books about her.

hilariously misguided

My aunt, god bless her, ever looking out for my immortal soul, left this piece of paper by my computer last night when I wasn't looking. It has a url on it: www.exwitch.com. I believe she's operating on the assumption that my religious views now are the same as they were 10 years ago, which they are definitely not. I find it quite funny. Even if I were still a fruity pagan instead of a disenchanted agnostic/dare-god-to-exist deist, it's just a total miss. But oh how she means well.

It's not her fault, really. She rebelled against her Catholic upbringing just like I did, only in a very different way. She is a super-Baptist missionary person, which is great for her. Something about China fits with her personality.

I'll give her props for trying, I guess. And being a sneaky shit about it.

Oh, the fam, and the complicated love I have for them. Le sigh. That's just how it goes.

p.s. I still think her "missionary work" is just a cover for the brothel she runs. (Not really. But it's terribly hilarious to think about.) Madame Elaine. Hahaha.

i'm bored

This is me (or my feet, at least), reclining in my surgeon's office, waiting. Hopefully this will be the last time I have to see him.

Waiting is boring. I think I will go to Borders after this and buy a book to read so I don't go crazy at work. It's slow during intersession.

mondrianmobile

One of the fancy art cars we saw driving on Brookside on Saturday. It was my favorite. There was one that looked like a guitar, and even one that looked like a pirate ship!

forest party

from the book i am reading right now

"Maybe, I thought, I don't need a father to be happy. Maybe, what you get from a father you can get somewhere else, from somebody else, later. Or maybe you can just work around what's missing, build the house of your life over the hole that is there and always will be."

watching the storm roll in

carrot cake ziggurat

Andrea made Dave a step-pyramid cake (at his request) for his birthday, which we did not eat last night because we were so full from the Brazilian steakhouse.

It looks delicious. I'm excited to eat some.

beibo likes bandanas

He does. Look at how much he likes them.

pineapple sword

At the Brazilian steakhouse they bring you meats on a giant skewer! And they keep bringing meat until you tell them to stop. And they had roasted pineapple. It was delicious. And. They have my favorite cake ever in the world, tres leches cake!

The restaurant is called The Gaucho. It's on 61st and Sheridan. It is phenomenal. If you love meats including, but not limited to meats wrapped in bacon, you should try it.

Seriously, though, tres leches cake is the best cake ever.

p.s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

breakfast times

Eating at Tally's Cafe. It's an old-school diner on historic Route 66 (11th street). Mom and Laura are real cute. Laura's shirt says ''World Famous.'' I like breakfast.

i made that final my bitch

I finished all my homework, motherfuckers. I managed to get an A in my ASL class, and a B in my Interpreting class. I feel pretty awesome about it.

I busted ass, and everything worked out. This is really the opposite of what happened the first time I was in college. I was really depressed and had way more stress than I had coping skills to deal with, so about three quarters of the way through the semester I would run out of steam and let everything go to shit. This happened a few times. And it never went to complete shit. I never failed any classes. But I was kind of steadily sinking the entire time I was in Kansas City. It was a situation that could not be sustained, which is why I had to get out of it.

And my main coping skill- detaching completely- did not serve me very well. I had other, even more destructive coping skills, too. It's so weird because I would never dream of doing that kind of shit anymore. It was bad. Really bad. I was not very nice to myself.

Things are so much different now. It's weird. Weird in the best way possible. Weird like how the fuck did I manage to survive myself and come to this place I am in now? The best I've ever been in my life. The healthiest, the copingest, the zest-for-life-havingest. It's kind of nuts.

Interestingly enough, I think dating Liz was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I learned what dying feels like. And I had the balls to say, "Enough! I can't kill my soul any longer." I chose myself. I loved myself the best. Which, for me, is completely amazing because I have always put other people before myself. I'm not completely over that sort of thinking, but I'm so much better.

Life is just so weird. Crazy, fucked up, not-so-awesome stuff happens, but the bad shit is what leads to breakthroughs. And that sucks sometimes. Most of the time. But each time you triumph over some obstacle you shed a little more of the bullshit that's been holding you back.

It's all a process. Everything.

I just remembered I thought of the beginning of a poem in the middle of the night last night. But it's gone, now. Maybe it'll come back later.

Anyway. Crazy stuff.

Also, I decided that my religion is learning. It is the best thing anyone can do, ever. I guess maybe teaching is, too. But we are all teachers who live our lives truly and fully and do not apologize for being and wanting. Naturally, I only associate with people who are their authentic selves always. If you can't be yourself and be with yourself as you really are, you'll never really live. You'll never feel or enjoy anything fully. You'll be a shadow. And that is so very sad. All the husk-people walking around asleep. Zombies.

You have to lead by example. Aspire to awesomeness. People are drawn to it. I promise.

for krystal

Kermit: Hey, Debbie, what’s this I hear about you wanting to do a rainbow song?
Debbie: Yeah. I just dig songs about rainbows.
Kermit: Oh, good.
Debbie: I sent you a list.
Kermit: Yeah, I got the list. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows.”
Debbie: Well, yeah, which one should I do?
Kermit: Well you left out one rainbow song.
Debbie: I did?
Kermit: Yeah. My rainbow song.
Debbie: Oh, that one. I thought you might be tired of that.
Kermit: Actually, no. I’m not tired of it at all.
Debbie: Well let’s do it then.
Kermit: Oh, good. I thought you’d never ask. It goes like this:


The Rainbow Connection

Why are there so many
Songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side
Rainbow's are visions
They're only illusions
And rainbows have nothing to hide
So we've been told and some chose to
Believe it
But I know they're wrong wait and see

Someday we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me

Who said that every wish
Would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star
Somebody thought of that
And someone believed it
And look what it's done so far
What's so amazing
That keeps us star gazing
What so we think we might see

Someday we'll find it
That Rainbow Connection
The lovers the dreamers and me

Have you been half asleep
And have you heard voices
I've heard them calling my name
Are these the sweet sounds that called
The young sailors
I think they're one and the same
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
There's something that I'm supposed to be

Someday we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me

what was all that stuff i was saying about schlock?

I know it's gay, and a non sequitur, and the timing is all wrong, but I don't care. Plus, it was on the L-Word. Plus, this song has never made me cry, ever.



Ever.

p.s. It's subtitled.

i refuse to freak out

I won't do it. I can only do what I can do, and I have to accept that.

But I'm not going to lose it.

Not this time.

I do hate school right now. Good thing I have the summer to unhate it.

Deep breaths. It's not that big of a deal.

Plus, did I tell you the collection agency that wants money from me is offering to settle for $1800? That is so much better than $3000! That means I'll have enough money to pay off the card AND get my car fixed! Hooray!

what did you do with those letters you wrote to yourself, but could not address?

Dear Natalie,

Fantasies are dangerous. And you know better. Please drop this nonsense before it damages you.

Thanks,
Me

houses

So. Mom talked like she might move in with Laura in the future, but that she doesn't want to sell her house. Which means I might get to live in it by my lonesome. Which would be cool. Weird, but cool. I haven't lived alone, ever. I think I can hack it. It'd still be weird.

I always hated it when Jacob was gone in the middle of the night. I hated being alone at night in our first apartment. It was so open and we lived in a sketchy neighborhood. Like the kind where there are homeless people who get the cans out of your trash and prostitutes who set up shop in the alley behind the apartments across the street and there are gigantic drug busts in houses a couple blocks away. Oh, yes. And someone breaks into your friend's apartment and rapes her. Fun stuff like that.

Wow. I haven't thought about that in a really long time. Kansas City is kind of a messed up place. It rubs off on you, a little. Fucked up shit happened there. Stuff that I don't think about too much anymore. Except for late at night when I'm avoiding sleep and homework.

Oh, lordy. I was so unhappy. But not all the time. It's weird. Such mixed emotions. It was amazing. It was awful. I can't separate the experience from either extreme. It was a roller coaster. Makes sense. I have bipolar disorder. Hadn't been diagnosed yet. I was medicated. And in therapy. Cognitive Behavioral. Maybe that is the wrong kind for me. Although, my therapist did teach me about deposits and withdrawals and shopping for groceries that aren't there no matter how many times you look for them. And other things. Thereapeutic things.

I also feel fine about not seeing a therapist right now. The last time I was in therapy I was starving, more like I was allowing myself to be starved. But I changed the situation and got over it and I've been pretty great (with bumps, of course) ever since. I talk about my feelings all the time. With people who give me really good feedback and who are awesome and kind and loving. I feel like a therapist would be superfluous.

another saturday night and i ain't got nobody

You know what sucks? Suddenly losing respect for an authority figure. One that you have to have continued interaction with. I'm going to have to unlose it. Which also sucks. But. You think you know people, and you don't, really. I mean, you think you have a good grasp on someone's character, but sometimes you don't. Disenchantment is lame.

I think my main problem is that I won't beg and I don't have the energy to fight. Especially if I have to rehearse this fucking story, and study for my final, and write a paper. The shitty thing is that I worked fucking hard, and put thought and effort into everything I did, and I think I deserve some fucking consideration, but I can't force people to understand. But I can just muddle through, and let go.

So, you know, I'll do that. I can't not.

Heavy sigh.