At my very core, I am sad. Though I have days in which I don't feel sad at all, and even days that I might not remember what sad even means, in my quiet moments and my time to myself, I feel it. Sometimes I feel it pulling at the edge of my mind, but I shrug it off. Sometimes it pulls hard, and this is why I have a habit. It pulls hard most of the time now. Sometimes it finds me in my dreams and I carry it with me all day. It's like a warm, comfortable blanket made of small barbs that I drape around myself. Sometimes its disheartening to think that at my zenith of existence, in that moment in which I am the most happy that I will ever be, I will inevitably find myself back, warming at the fire of my inner despair. I have felt like this for as long as I can remember.

Halfway done with a paper that's due on Tuesday. It's a good bit more done than I am usually at this juncture. And I only have German class tomorrow, so I have most of the day before work to finish off the rest. The topic is fairly easy. I'm more concerned with the final I have on Thursday. Been trying to take breaks in writing the paper to create a few flashcards and peck out some ideas for that final essay. The following week will be the worst, with a final Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday.

Making this all seem a bit better is the pleasant soreness from the concert on Saturday. Ran into a friend of my ex whom I always thought was beautiful and tried not to fawn over him. My neck is sore from headbanging, which I somehow thought was both appropriate and a good idea. Stood in front of the speakers, so my ears are ringing. My legs are sore from jumping, and I don't regret a moment. The bands all put forth magnificent offerings, with even both openers being surprisingly quality. Speaking of which, I'm going to see if I can find their music online.

I can't wait until finals are just over.

Hook Suspension.

I couldn't find the exact screenshot that started my morbid fascination with the practice, but it was taken from  the movie The Cell that came out in the 90s. When the tortured serial killer lifted himself into suspension, he looked peaceful. It soothed the mortally wounded soul, and gave it respite. Those I've spoken to who have done it always waxed poetic about it. This is something I'll want to do soon. Until I can, I'll just look at it on the internet a lot.

Though, for my skin's sake, I ought to lose some weight first. 

Mmmmmmmmmmm. Nicotine buzz from the cigarette I wasn't supposed to have.

But as Tom Waits said to Iggy Pop:  "You know, the beauty of quitting is, now that I've quit… I can have one. Because I've quit. I mean, it's just like jewelry."

I've always thought Jared Leto was rather striking. But he's gone and lost a lot of weight and shaved off his eyebrows for a movie he's in I believe. 

I don't care why. He pretty. He's really pretty.

Now that I know I'm not afraid of dying, I should really dedicate my life to doing things that are hard or dangerous for others to do. Preferably something that benefits people. Like maybe I can get fit and be a fire fighter, or rescue squad or some such.

Falling into the rhythm of employment is easy for me. When I'm hired, I keep the job. To date, I've never had a job less than a year and also been employed at all times since I was 16. I've worked a total of 3 places ever, so it's easy to form attachments to jobs and I don't leave unless there's no other option. 

Left the dining hall due to lack of hours they'd schedule me for. No seniority for an employee of 4+ years. Left the bookstore for the same reason, but their scheduling policy changed when store management did. And now, it seems like Dial is trying to get rid of me in much the same way. My hours (a meager 23 normally ) were cut in half. It's almost not even worth the drive. I'm putting out leads for new employment at the same time that I try to study for finals and write papers. 

There is an enormous amount of work to be done. Also my car just started making a sound, but that may be the extreme levels of anxiety talking. 

There is so much beauty in the world, yet. There is a wonderous beauty to this melancholy. To wondering what else I could have been, and where else I could be. But I am so glad that there are good things. Things that give faith in the good in people renewed fuel. I need things like that.

I'm going to scream.

The next bit is going to be hard times, I fear. The holidays are always an especially acutely lonely time for me since my mother went and fouled everything up with her relations. I suppose it's also been that way since my Great-grandmother died. She was the matriarch- Christmas and Thanksgiving at her house every year. My father and stepmother have Thanksgiving and Christmas, but because so much of the rest of the family has other familial obligations to attend to, they make sure to do it in the afternoon or morning, so it's convenient for everyone. Sure they'd let me stay longer if I wanted, but they're grown and they have lives to lead. Also, I'm fairly certain I'm scheduled to work everyday that's not a federal holiday. The end result is me at home in an empty apartment for stretches of many days. It can be disorienting. I'm not looking supremely forward to any of it.

The walls resound a seeping cold
that pulls away at sleeping souls,
it's quiet here; the insects, bold
the fabric strewn with tiny holes.

A tiny sigh and rush of air
burst from the one in sleeping death
at night, though, all had best beware
the little thing would steal your breath.

And I with worries, oft here dwell
for nowhere else would have me.
The joyous flickering lights would tell
quite the different story.

A big part of growing up has been realizing that I don't need anyone to fix me. As I try my hand at being an adult, I find myself settling into the person I'm going to be. Part of the reason I would constantly search for male companionship was this idea I'd had that if I found the right person, they'd smoothe out the parts of myself that I didn't like and make me into someone new. Not only is this not true, but it's pretty stupid to think I thought that ever. I don't need fixing, because I'm the shit. The 'Great Love *TM' that's out there will most assuredly be a transformative influence, but it's not going to fix my flaws. Slowly building myself into a person without chinks in my armor.

I asked myself earlier how I could even entertain the idea of infatuation I've never even spoken to. And I know now that I don't, and couldn't really. I'm infatuated with the idea of that infatuation. It's unfair to the pretty thing. It's also silly to hold to the myth of the beautiful stranger. Things don't happen like that.

When I'm single, once I'm done mourning the death of the relationship, all I seem to think and write about is the opposite sex. But I have this... awkwardness that may be a biological reaction to past heartache. I can remember being a bit more suave. The last few times a guy has flirted with me, it's made me very uncomfortable. But that may be more because I find something about the guy unappealing. The last time I tried flirting with a guy, I am pretty sure I just creeped him out. 


I feel like an asshole when I awkward weasel my way out of romantic social occasions proposed by someone else and sit at home alone and wallow in loneliness. Because it is an asshole thing to do. Trying not to bitch about it has been step one towards recovery in this area. 


"It's no good trying to get rid of your own aloneness. You've got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your own aloneness and stick to it, all your life. And then accept the times when the gap is fileld in, when they come. But they've got to come. You can't force them."

People watching is the great hobby of most Americans, I think. Or perhaps not all of us do it, but those of us who do, do so with zeal. Though admittedly it's taken me a few years to learn how to not be creepy about it, and there would be more than one person who would say I'm still not perfect at that. People are magnetic. The complexity of the lives that each of us lead has us abroil with internal conflicts and pushing forward with a motivation all our own. 

My mom has told me on more than one occasion that one of the things she admires about me is that I make my decisions with my eyes open, with full knowledge and acceptance of the consequences of my actions. Now what I want to sharpen focus on in this new year of my life that quickly approaches is making the right decisions. Hone my ability to be as good of a person as the Watchmen makes me want to be.

Staying positive when your nature prefers to be melancholy is difficult. The last week or two have left me discouraged, and from what others have told me, I can be a bit sensitive sometimes. Trying to make this into a rallying point, pull myself by the proverbial bootstraps. More on this as it develops.

Studying for long stretches of time has always been difficult to me. In high school, I was one of those who passed everything with flying colors without having to try. This did not properly prepare me for the amount of studying needed for college. Most of my classes are the sort I can get past in largely the same manner I did in high school. However, I'm in one that wants a lot more than the light reading, occasional paper I'm used to.

This class only has two exams. One of them is on Tuesday. All ancient pottery and sculpture looks pretty similar, and there are 75 images I'm supposed to be able to not only identify by name, but also by year, artist (if known), location (found), location (currently-usually a museum), and how those exposed to it in its time of use would have seen it. There are several different types of pottery I need to be able to identify by shape, and a bunch of pot-painters that I need to be able to identify by style. The most fun is identifying temples that once stood thousands of years ago by a black & white image of the plan (based on archaeological surveying) and an image of the ruins. I have been spending the last several days trying to push this shit into my brain, and I think I might be losing other important information in making room for it.

And then I have a German exam on Thursday. At least it's not as bad as the week before last: I had a German, 19th century European painting, and US history before 1865 (which was only 2 essay questions, boosh) exam. It's just that this one is the biggest deal. So I'm fucking around on the internet.

I should get an annoying alarm program for my computer that jumps in and reminds me every twenty minutes or so to stop watching porn and start studying. Uuggggggh.

Often, I think I was born with an overabundance of emotion. At times I feel as though they will burst forth from under my fingernails, my nose, and other odd crooks of my body.

My appearance is always in a state of flux. I need to change small things constantly. It's as though I'm afraid I'll get bored with myself, but I've always found the body-mod subculture very alluring.

Lists are fun:
22 ear piercings: 2 of which are conch, 1 rook, 1 tragus
Both nipples
5 tattoos
Constantly changing my hair
Constantly painting my nails
Youtube makeup tutorials, and all the colors of the rainbow in eyeshadow.

I sort of look at it all as my armor. Everyone does different things to be happy with themselves.

Speaking of which, I'm going to get a haircut today.

“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?"
"Yes."
"All like ours?"
"I don't know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound - a few blighted."
"Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one?"
"A blighted one.”


I'm having a hard time seeing the good in people. I desperately want to believe that it's there, but fighting the urge to be a huge asshole is not always something I'm up for.

None of the things I'm trying to accomplish are terribly difficult or challenging. I deserve no condemnation or congratulations, as what I am trying to do is catch up with properly functioning humans. There aren't any cravings really, for the cigarettes. But then I'll remember a moment like standing on the front porch of my last apartment at three in the morning, hair askew. The night was quiet, and the flick of the lighter was the loudest sound as his arm slipped around my waist.

But smoking won't bring anything back. Not that I want it, but it's fun to fall in love.

After enough people in your life grow to dislike you from being around you a lot, there's only so much you can blame on individual personality quirks. At a certain point, you realize that it's you. Not sure how anyone manages to spend a concentrated amount of time with me. It's something I can barely stand, myself.

Ah, but what do we say to death? Not today.

Though it is most assuredly petty, there is something strangely satisfying about finally defriending the exboyfriend you've had a hard time getting over on facebook. I cut off my ability to check in on him. Not that I did, but I liked the idea of having the option. Before I would go downtown, I'd check it, as he's the sort of person who tells his facebook everywhere he ever goes, and all about that fight he just had with you. It saved me an awkward run-in once. Back again at that satisfied, solitary place. Meditation and self-improvement are the words of the day. It has been one week and two days since my last cigarette and soda.

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere
I want it more than I can tell.
And for once, it might be grand
to have someone understand
I want so much more than they've got planned.

I had a wonderful time this weekend, but I can feel the consequences of my behavior like extra weights in an already burdensome load. I'm exhausted even though I just slept 9 hours. My teeth hurt. My back hurts from sleeping on the floor/chair 3 nights in a row before discovering as we were leaving that the chair folded out into a bed. I have bruises on my thighs from playing the traditional con-game 'werewolf,' and a few new delightful perfumes from Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs.

Over the course of those few days, much tends to blur together. Much of the free time was spent sitting and watching strangers and playing werewolf. There were a few events worth taking note of aside from this however. On Saturday, an old friend/ guy I used to make out with at Magic tournaments walked past me on his way into a hotel. After calling his name a few times to no response, I got up and chased after him. As I tapped his backpack, he took off running at full speed. I followed at a quickened pace for a few steps before realizing I had begun to chase that fool. Saw him again waiting in line for the DCon after Dark raver thing, but he thinks I didn't since he had his mouth covered.

There was also all of Sunday, which I believe to be the most successful day. Sunday was a draft tournament of M:tG and two concerts (Frenchy and the Punk, Ego Likeness.) During Ego Likeness, apparently Kaylee from Firefly and her husband were watching the show immediately behind us. (Never liked Firefly, personally, but all my friends think that it's a really big deal.) After that there was a DJ, enough attention to my physical form and far too many cigarettes, I walked home in Atlanta at 4AM.

More later, but for some stupid reason, I have class at 9:30AM.

I dislike the lazy cosplay. Something that you clearly just threw together last minute because you didn't want to be the only one without a costume. Now I put mine together in the past two weeks, but a lot has gone into mine. I have the right boots, the right pants and even the weird x-tank top I need. Rush order'd the correct BSG dogtag, bleached my hair more times than advisable, and bought a handful of cigars as props. I hope mine looks recognizable, at the very least.

Bought flasks and moonshine. Seems like DCon to me. :D

Luck of lucks, it looks to be another rainy day. I thoroughly enjoyed myself yesterday in my new dress with the new music. I need to do a darker wash on the pants before Friday, but tonight happens to be a friend's 21st birthday. We'll see what gets done.

Ahhh, the long rainy day. And I have so much perfect music for this weather.

This has turned into a nothingweek so far. It's -really- hard to care about class, but there's an exam on Wednesday auf Deutsche.

But in all seriousness, this is my favorite sort. I'll get to walk around, maybe use an umbrella. Something feels so alive about the world when it rains. Every negative space is occupied, all figures in view are active, seeking shelter or immediate respite from the weather. If I didn't have to be in class, I would dance in it. Still might at some point. The day is young, after all.

This will be a week that drags, I can feel it.

Hope to have the first Game of Thrones novel finished by this upcoming weekend. Been tearing through it at a quickening pace. There are enough differences between the show and the novel that I'm not bored. Like the age difference. Seriously.

Reminds me that I should get my MP3 player out of the car. Downloaded two new albums today. One of them is from a band I've had recommended to me more than once called the National, and the other from one called White Lies. Both of which I discovered earlier today on internet radio. But the spotify radio is like Pandora, only stupid. You get infinite skips, but sometimes something you skip comes up again 3 songs later. They'll play an artist you like, but only those two songs. And no matter how many times you tell it not to play the Goddamn Red Hot Chili Peppers, it's all like "Naw, son. I know what you need. And it's shitty California surf rock."

I should get more sleep than I do. It's probably much better for you. All of my hair is going to fall out because I bleached it again. Must remember to post photos of the costume once I get it put together.

Another early morning Sunday coffee+ bagel run. There's totally not a handsome guy there. Nope. Moving on.

As I suspected, Ancient Art History is boring as shit. I thought since it had a pretty attractive professor that I'd have no issue paying attention, but alas and alack, it's still about fragmented pottery so far. A lot of the time I sort of drift away thinking about other things as we're analyzing the significance of the use of geometric pattern in the pre-historic pottery. I'll have to snap out of that though, I need an A in both ARHI classes I'm in. The other has the benefit of being earlier, taught by the head of the ARHI department and is about paintings I've learned before.

Been awfully sneezy lately. Think I must be getting sick. But thanks to an all-day runaround w/ Shawna yesterday, I have my Starbuck costume pretty much done. Still waiting on the dogtag, and may need to give the pants a darker wash. Ooh! Also need to go buy cigars at some point this week. Also on the runaround, procured something like 8 amazing new pairs of tights (from America's Thrift Store for like, 13 bucks.)

So much of the day is left. Spent the beginning part crooning to Bowie in the car.

"We got a message from the action man. 'I'm happy. Hope you're happy, too.'"

I'm going to DragonCon and am rapturously excited about it. Have a room nailed down, and a ride to get there. Putting together a costume for the event. I have missed the past 3 DCons, but not this one.

Nerd nirvana. I'm coming back.

College level language courses require an absurd amount of work.

I wonder if I'll be fluent enough by the end of this stretch that I'll start to dream in German. That'd be swell.

I'm doing a stretch of Hogwarts themed nail polishes. First up, my own house. With a strip of painter's tape over one half of the nail, and I have some very Slytheriny nails. Fun thing is that I have all the colors for all the others already. Trying to figure out a way to make Hufflepuff less boring. I was thinking about getting one of those fine-tipped nail polish marker things and drawing a badger paw on my thumbnails, but I'd prolly fuck that up.

And now I've done all my work. Put up the rest of my wallthings and have that portfolio stored under the bed, much to the chagrin of Banjo Katzooie. I think he'll get over it.

Now I've moved on to listening to the Smiths and vaguely brooding. The good kind, though. No longer do I feel sorry for myself and bemoan my station in life. Do many people listen to sad music for kicks? The sweet sadness is a nice contrast to the energy and occasional dejection of real life. Though, I suppose people who watch horror movies do so to make themselves afraid. Recreational sadness: reclaiming from the emo kids.

A lot of Morrissey's stuff is nonsense. But often, you get nice little reminders that you can sort of pack up and bring with you. As in "These Things Take Time." Makes me reminisce a little. "Oh, the alcoholic afternoons, when we sat in your room. It meant to me than any... than any living thing on Earth." Speaking of which, I have most of a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon in the trunk of my car. I should probably go get that and put it in the freezer.

And finally, faceless internet, I leave you with this music video that once inspired my Morrissey haircut.

Instead of doing German homework I:

- drove to Jittery Joes and got coffee & a bagel
- did some dishes
- watched an episode of Taboo on cable
- played with the kitties
- stared longingly out the window, silently hoping for rain.

And then I did some of it and am taking a break.

When I am finished, I will put up all the rest of my smaller wallthings to finish making this place feel like home. Still not sure what to do with the traffic cone that I stole from the parking lot at dial last year. I really don't even know why I did that. Sort of an impulse after a bad day.

I also pirated CIV IV. And really, who needs friends when you have completely absorbing videogames?

Just kidding. I do. But I spent the entire rest of the weekend with them. Sunday is for schoolwork and chores.

Bus Buddy (Noun)- A person who rides the same bus on a similar schedule to you whom you befriend so as to not be forced to sit next to strangers everyday. Bonus points if it's a handsome member of the opposite sex.

Getting back into the swing of things has been interesting. I find it's like riding a bike. You never really forget how to take notes, and three of the classes I'm in are lecture courses. The other is a language course that happens to be taught by a friend of mine from my M:tG days. (Which look to be starting again with the new set. New Ravnica? Count me in.)

My favorite is all of the people. Sure, a majority of them blur together. But every now and then you have legitimately enjoyable encounters with strangers. There is an openness to campus that allows one to gather friendgroups with ease. Perhaps friend is a strong term for it. Acquaintance? Though I tend to be a prickly looking sort. Saves me the trouble of being accosted by those handing out fliers or bibles. Maybe it's all the black.

Making slap-dash plans to go to DragonCon this year. I believe it's been about 3 since I went. I have no place to stay as of yet, but since you don't really sleep at conventions (more like fall unconscious for 3-hour blocks) I should be able to find a place for myself. Not the principal worry. And neither is transportation, for once.

There's this sense of relief being back in school. I guess it's escapism at its finest. Two more years removed from being thrust out into the real world. At least I've never had to move back in with my parents and have been gainfully employed since I was 16.

As a sidenote: By chance I had a runin with an ex of mine on campus first day. I thought this to be unusual as he is no longer a student. When spotted, there were no plans on my part to confront or otherwise converse with him, as I was sure he would be uninterested in such a thing. However, I was not expecting him to react as he did. When he saw me, he quickly ended the conversation he was having and jumped onto the nearest bus. He ran from me.

Fucking coward.

First post in the new house, I believe. This place costs more than the last, but is still the 2nd cheapest place I've lived. It come equipped with adorable stray cat that has been destroying my sleep patterns. I bought earplugs yesterday, and even slept a whole night. Thought I had be hallucinating that one of the corners of my bed is lower than the others, but I was not. One of them lost a wheel somewhere in transit, so in the next few days, I will be prying the rest of the wheels out. School starts back in full force on Monday. I am all atwitter with renewed scholastic energy.

I hate how the acoustics of a room change when you take all the shit off of the walls.

Keep messing around instead of packing. Like right now. Watched two episodes of Battlestar Galactica this morning. Right around every 3 episodes, it makes me cry. Perhaps this is just fantastic storyline and great acting. Though I'm immersed in a world of change at the moment, I feel grounded and sure of myself. But it probably helps to be able to cry every now and then. Unrelated: I love that even female officers in this show are referred to as 'Sir.'

A monumental moment in my life's timeline: I got my driver's license today. Twenty three years old. A nontraditional age to join the ranks of the mobilized. My mother and I spent 4 hours at the DMV this morning. Got my permit reinstated, took my road test and just barely passed. Tapped a cone, forgot to check for oncoming traffic at a turn. 82/100 when 80 is the lowest acceptable score. Drove my mother home. Drove from Flowery Branch back to my apartment. I'm not trapped anymore. I can get where I need to be. I can just get in my car and go. How wonderful a feeling. Who needs a ride? I'm something like 23 years of rides in debt.

Excited to be moving again soon. This has been a good year off. Life lessons learned, full time working experienced, and a lime green bedroom like I always wanted. While living here, I was romantically entangled with three men. One of these entanglements was significant, and the others were fun. In a way, everything is significant. All the small moments you keep for yourself.

I will do my best to leave them here. The new place will be very different.

For a long time, I've held the saccharine-sweet disneyrific idea that perhaps somewhere out there in the big wide nowhere, someone is looking for me like I'm looking for them. The older I get, the harder this is to believe. Fairy tales and superhero stories made me believe in fate when common sense would seemingly point elsewhere. It seems less and less likely that there really is a perfect mate in the world for each and every person. Facts show us that shitloads of people die alone and miserable everyday. Probability tells me that the older and weirder I get, the harder it is to find anyone that matches me. This knowing is a nagging pain. It will only be a matter of time before that becomes a familiar pain that is folded simply into the daily routine. Perhaps this is what aging is.

I have had to jump over an eight foot chasm to get to my apartment for the last two days. Something with jackhammers deep under my street. They start as early as they can, I think.

And there they go again.

Since classes started, I haven't really been reading many books. I've normally at least two I'm working on at any given time, school or no. Right now I'm just on a reread of Breakfast of Champions, which would likely rank second in my favorites by KVJ.

Something about the sentiment from Cormac McCarthy's The Road about referring to people who still clung to a shuddering remain of their humanity as 'carrying the fire.' Those ideas are things I aspire to. To make my insides beautiful in spite of my circumstances, and to try to carry the fire.

But I spend so much of my time disliking things. Should really work on my outlook.

This sort of rampant, churning discontent has risen within me. Just on the left side of nauseous, I feel as though something is amiss. Probably the sight of a redheaded pixie specter from my past. Knowing she's around makes me miss a time that seemed so full of promise. I felt like she knew me fully, and still loved me for a time. Even though I'm certain she wants nothing to do with me anymore, she greatly impacted my life. I will carry her in my heart for the rest of my days, fondly. Waxing over sentimentalities such as this is not helpful. They further sharpen the lonely point I'm at. Shuffling my belongings into piles of like objects, taking personal inventory and throwing things away is what I should get to. Moving is always a cleansing experience. I can remember it feeling more exciting. Now the days merge together, and the great feeling of expectation and wonder has gone. There's no sense that the future holds anything more than what I know already. What is there left, but growing old and seeing everything I cared for die away?

As of late, I've been brainstorming short stories based on my dreams. For the last year or so, they've trended apocalyptic. I'd like to get out, in cohesive wording, the things in my dreams. This has proven tricky so far, as I dislike writing in the 1st person, and I almost always dream in the 1st person. I also want to avoid tired phraseology. Lot to work on. Summer semester is chugging along nicely. Never thought I'd have an A average in college math. It'll be over at the end of the month. Then the big move. Fun thing is that after the big move, I'm supposed to go on vacation to Disneyland with my family. Like, immediately afterwards. Also my final is on moving day. Fall semester has been registered for. Classes paid for, and the loan excess on its way to me. Huzzah. Discovering that foolishness is an inherently human thing, and you should never be mad at yourself for your follies.

I took a chance on a guy I had a thing for. This was a poor idea.

So I got my nipples pierced last week. Always wanted to. As this was a thing that previous lovers of mine expressed an interest in, doing it as a single person was somehow self-affirming. Hurt worse than anything else I've done on purpose. Looks pretty spiffy. There's something cathartic about actually having something to heal. Never made it as a cutter, but man will I pay someone to hurt me.

I really like driving around with "Erection" by The Faint playing on the stereo. Windows down, volume up. If anyone notices the words, the reactions are always priceless.

Felt a sincere sense of accomplishment this past weekend. Cold weather camping is for those who do not have fresh nipple piercings, by the way. Brrr.