We can't all get what we want for Christmas. Especially when we're atheists.

On the verge of a new year, I find myself alone in my apartment in a contemplative mood. Was canceled on for hanging outs this afternoon, and the wine I have tastes very strange, and leaves dark purple veiny-looking residue on my tongue. This has been a year of the stupid things I've done catching up with me and showing me what-for.

In February, I will have been single an entire year. I'm quite pleased with this, but in my previous post I think it's clear that the whole affair has its shortcomings.

This year I did nothing really worthwhile. I shared a few beautiful moments with a smattering of people and came to know myself a little bit more. Seems to be the older I get, the less I like myself.

Will tomorrow feel any different than today? Days mean little.

‎"They lived in ugly places where there were only ugly things to do. They didn't own doodley-squat, so they couldn't improve their surroundings. So they did their best to make their insides beautiful instead." - KVJ

All I want for Christmas is to get laid.

As a grown woman of some small amount of self-confidence, I find being stood up by men almost painful enough that I don't date. Because I dislike spending large amounts of time by myself, I try and make plans for the evenings. When I'm told by someone that they would like to hang out on a certain night, I make sure not to make other plans that night.

Dating is tedious, but sex is fun. So I keep trying, like an idiot (who ran out of batteries.)

I don't have time to get stood up. Nevermind. Technically I have all of the time in the world for that. I guess what I mean is that I am tired of getting excited for things that don't happen. So I'll drink my fucking rum and wallow in my self-pity the week before crimbo. Canceled on twice. Ouch.

It is worth noting that my journey to NYC was a successful and somewhat magical one. Somewhat lacking in the directionless wandering I was itching for, but when you're traveling with a family member your actions tend to be more conservative. Though I did get a bit toasty with my father at the bar before the concert.

Oh, the concert. I drank every moment of the thing with all of my senses. It was beautiful to be able to see the music that has come to mean so much to me brought to life. The scarcity of the tickets (combined with the fact that there were only 7 shows), the anticipation of the event, and the genuine love that everyone there had for the band they were going to see made for a wonderful energy. And then this band full of men played songs that were written before I was born as though they had never missed a day of practice. And even though the seats were shit, my father brought binoculars. This allowed me to see that RS was still wearing the glorious red lipstick.

Never say die! Never surrender! Vivre le spectaculaire!

There are very few things in the world that I would say are sources of absolute pleasure.

One of those things is drinking wine alone. I started doing it when I lived in my last apartment when I would be particularly upset. There's just something about getting drunk and only having yourself to confront that comes with a certain amount of clarity. Perhaps it started as a method of self-destruction, but now I see it in an almost holistic way. It allows me to assess all of the issues facing me in an unhurried way. Wine makes me feel poetic and warm, and though there's an inherent sadness to the act of drinking alone, it adds just the right amount of bitterness to the whole scenario.

There comes a time in your life when you have to be happy alone. I think I'm getting there. And I think I'm going to be here, alone. Making my own bad decisions and reaping the benefits. I'll look over the cliffs of insanity and take a deep breath.

I hope that there is so much more to life, and that I've just been unlucky in my encounters so far. Were it not so cold, I would go on a walk. I'm restless.

I wonder if love is real.

It used to be the only thing I believed in.

I've recently become obsessed with the thought that the world as we know it will soon end. Perhaps it's just the recurring dreams of the flash of a nuclear warhead, or wandering the rubble of a city with my heart pounding so hard that it wakes me up. It very well might also be what I've gleaned from the news recently, and being a pessimist. Or it's very possible that I've been watching too much of the walking dead. Either way, it seems to be one of the only things I'm able to devote energy towards these days.

A pervading sense of doom is following me, and taking the color out of life. I'm more than aware that I am not the first person to have the thoughts that I have, or to try and draw their dreams. Something stops me from listening to reason and soldiering on with my currently purposeless existence. Perhaps it's the hope that maybe it will happen, and I will be reborn into a new world where everyone's fate isn't set by the money that they were born into.

Of course, this is common as well. Who doesn't want to start over? Reforge our society and try to rediscover the human experience as it must have once been.

I'm probably crazy.

And given the recent case of mouth diarrhea, I'll just say that even intoxication does nothing for Siouxsie and the Banshees in my eyes. Or ears rather. I decided that I hadn't given them enough of a chance, so I gave them about half an hour. Not happening. I don't like her voice. Or her song content. Or any of the music videos I saw. But anyway.

I tend to be more loquacious when I've been left alone for long stretches of time. I don't deal well with solitude. Always been somewhat of a social creature.

Also, I've given vodka another shot. Mostly because I wanted bloody mary(s) and that's what's in one. But now I'm out of mix and half a bottle and nothing better to do. I know it's supposed to be a sign of alcoholism when you drink alone, but I disagree. If no one else will drink with you, what are you supposed to do? Sit and watch television or do something productive? No thank you.

That's something that I've been doing tons more of as I age: drinking. It allows for a deeper understanding of oneself, I believe. But most of what you find is ugly and wretched, which is why so many drunks are miserable. I don't much like myself, but I don't think I'm miserable yet. Though as I watch time taking what it's owed from my body I can't help but be seized by a compulsion to use my body as much as possible before it's taken away with me. I want to feel so much, but I've been in a mist of apathy for so long. These past few months were supposed to be a breather, a time to rediscover myself and reawaken my artistic yearnings. But all I've done is try to dull the deafening mediocrity that is my life.

And on a small and mostly unrelated note, my favorite band is playing their last shows ever this year. I thought the dates were for next year, but I was mistaken. At the end of the week, the tickets will go on sale. I think I will buy one, and then perhaps hitchhike my way to NYC? The Cure forum boards are atwitter with possible places for me to stay when I get up there, and other intensely excited people. I feel like this is something I need to go to. If there's anything that can reawaken my lust for life, it may just be the band that gave it to me in the first place.

I wonder will we remember, how it feels to be this alive. <3

I used to think of getting older as a series of reaching different plateaus. I had a hard time thinking past 16, 18, 21. I made far-reaching plans in my head and accepted them as fact without really doing anything to ensure that I would reach these goals. As I continue my progress into the uncharted territory of my 20s, and I don't see any more plateaus on my horizon, I've realized that I was wrong.

Life is not a series of plateaus, or a journey, or whatever it is that movies lead us to believe. I no longer think that I'm holding out for a great job, or that one romance that will give new purpose to life. Every day that moves forward, I can see everything and everyone that I know changing at what must be a normal rate, but as someone seeing it for the first time, I find it very troubling. I've noticed that my days are largely the same, with the standout exceptions of finding that something about my body doesn't work as well as it used to. My joints feel tight, my teeth tender and the general weight of responsibility heavy.

I've moved past being held responsible for my actions by my parents, or my concerned friends. I am instead only motivated by my own compulsions, whims, and self-destructive tendencies. I don't feel useful, and I don't think that I am doing anything to better the world (which has been the only driving, consistent goal in my life to this point.) This is a weird muck that I wade through in bare feet, hoping to find some lost sense of purpose buried with the dragonfly larvae in the mud.

When I think of the future, it seems like a long empty hallway that I can't see the end of. I'm sure there are doors in it, but none that I can see right now. I have begun to take my greatest pleasures in life from the small group of friends and the moments we share together between our days at our pointless jobs.

Often, I think on Player Piano, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. With the emphasis on automation, and rapid progression of technology, I see most lower-level jobs as being phased out in my lifetime. I feel as though the future of my country is a mixture of the corporate society (as depicted in Player Piano) and the rise of artificial intelligence (as depicted in the Second Renaissance from the Animatrix.) Though perhaps not all within my lifetime, as one can never tell how long you have.

Ran into my ex downtown. Forced a little conversation.

I really, really miss that intimate human connection. I miss the snuggles, and all the things that usually come before. I don't know that I'm ready to be that open to another person quite yet, but I miss the small acts of the other person. The things that you savor and long for. Weepy, yes.

Also, the bike race may be an athens tradition, but it's boring.

My ex texted me, asking if I was ever going to speak to him again.

I really don't know what he wants me to say if we do talk.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP5_Yojpzsc

If you haven't been through a Manson phase at least once in your life, I recommend it.

Look at this video! He has bitches pull his chariot. I want a bitch chariot.

You're supposed to take pictures of things, places, experiences and people that you want to remember. There have been no pictures taken of me in almost a year. I want to become someone worth remembering again. I know I've been allowing the currents of life to carry me for a while. Change comes only to those who pursue it, and those who have it dropped onto them. Nothing has changed recently. Besides my hair, more tattoos, taking some time off of school for a while. So maybe a lot has changed. But I feel the same. I feel like I'm trapped inside a bubble of mediocrity and decay, and I'm getting a little claustrophobic.

But I'm not sure what I need I do to initiate the change I want to see in myself. I don't know what I would like to be, which makes it difficult to aim for anything. For a while I thought that maybe being happy was something worth aiming for. But I don't know how to make myself happy.

I dated and loved someone. But for many reasons, one of the main ones being the imminent demise of my life as I knew it, it didn't last. I broke it off and was a heinous person. I sleep alone every night and clutch my blankets instead of another person. But I know that if I can't be happy on my own, it's really destructive to try and get another person to try. I want to be someone worth loving. I want to achieve things that matter, and I want to get out and do things.

My parents are letting me buy a truck from my grandfather with Alzheimer's. It'll be a stick shift, and at least ten years older than I am. They tell me if I drive it to Atlanta I'll blow the motor out, so it's not the most mobile piece of equipment. Sam and I will be moving in together in the next few months. I hate my job, but the people are wonderful and help me get up in the morning.

More than a small part of me wants to move out of this town. To run somewhere else and just drop anchor and try to make a life for myself. I think I'm at a place in my life where several people might say to themselves, "Hey, where's Allison? Haven't seen her in a few days." But no one who would mourn my leaving, or be unable to transition. On one level this is excruciatingly depressing, but on another it's almost a relief. I really am currently living for myself. It'll probably be a better life once I like myself a bit more.

I am supposed to be seeing a therapist. I can't get them to call me back. No one will talk to me and it's starting to have a severe effect on my day-to-day life.

Maybe venting is better than nothing? I haven't uploaded anything in almost a year. It's safe to say this thing is defunct, I think. A good place to start again... hopefully I'll tell a tale of recovery.

Until then, I'm off to numb myself a good bit.