Well hello there. It's 2 am again. And I'm alone.
There are those moments when I think I love my life, but the majority of the time I simply don't. My expectations have been run too high with living vicariously through nerdy love stories in hope to have a similar tale one day. Prepare for a copious amount of rhetorical questions that I can't even seem to answer.
I was going to try to avoid this subject, but I've decided I'm going to lay out my life one post at a time. Again, without too many specifics, my loneliness aspect of life. It's a biggie. Do you even know how completely frustrating it is to enjoy the company of guys more, but all of your friends in college are girls? Well, that doesn't help that I was shoved into an all girls dorm freshman year. Say goodbye to any potential GVSU love story from me. Not to mention, I think I've been friend zoned more than a woman should be. That's great, you think I'm cool to talk to and love everything about me, but leading me on was accidental? Alright cool. All of those constant posts from single girls joking about how they'll be the cat lady, just stop. The girl over here that keeps quiet doesn't joke about that.
I've been told constantly that "somebody is out there". What if I don't meet them? I'm the girl that waits. I've been in love once, but it wasn't even my year and a half relationship. That was forced and was full of confusion. I don't care how many people think I'm too young to know. That's bullshit. The guy I fell in love with meant everything. It's pretty awesome that after he decided to make out with me on his bed at the past-curfew hour of 3 in the morning, we didn't talk again. I can't let that go. It was a year ago.
What the Hell is the meaning of love anymore? I just want to... injure all of those that kryptonited the word of its powers. I don't know how to even extend upon that. I feel some form of anger when I hear all of my friends talk about being in love. It's almost as if I'm the only one to have experienced it, and I just want it to be mine. When you're in love, you just know. No questions asked. No "I think I was". When you say it, you feel 100% confident about it. Being in a relationship for a long time does NOT mean you love each other. Having sex doesn't concrete any feelings. In fact, that just complicates things. The guy I was in love with treated me more like a princess in the 3 times we hung out than anyone else ever has. As far as the massive array of "love" tattoos... why? You are making it so much worse. PSA: quit overflowing the tattoo bandwagon.
Speaking of tattoos, the next guy in my story can be associated. You think talking 24/7 and hanging out and obviously flirting and trusting someone with an emotional heavy load might have more behind it than just a friendship, right? That's what I thought. Talk about dropping the bomb. Being asked to medal from this very same guy with a girl who is one of your good friends was, well, shitty. It didn't work out. At least I got over it in about 12 hours, after shamefully writing a song about it.
Then there's something that scares me. The thing that scares me the most is how confused I am. Apparently there's a 72% chance I already met the person I will marry. I think I know who that person is, but I don't want it to be them. I do want it to be them. I won't dare reveal too much. This person actually means a lot to me, I know I mean a lot to them. It scares me how much I miss them when we don't see each other for a while. As I constantly sigh writing this paragraph in fear of thinking he would read this somehow, I will move on.
A message for the guys though: I know you're equally frustrated with the whole friend zone ordeals, but let me make it simple. Sometimes a girl wants to keep you in her life forever, and she is scared that she would ever lose you. It does not matter how hard you try to become best friends again after a relationship, it does not last long. They want you to be there for them, because you're their rock. I have experienced this 3 times. I still need to realize that relationships aren't always worth it.
Like I've said before, my pillow is pretty messed up. I don't do anything to it, when I'm conscious at least. I seem to have some sort of attachment to it, almost like a security blanket. I wouldn't mind somebody cuddling next to me once in a while to give my poor pillow a break. If you've heard people say that they feel lonely in the most crowded of rooms, take my word for it, it absolutely sucks. I'm getting ahead of myself though. The loneliness associated with depression is another story as well.
How was this brought onto me? Well, my roommate, who hasn't been single since she was 6, manages to always have guys falling at her feet. This is one of my best friends here, but I just don't understand why. Just... no. And she has a boyfriend, yet she manages to have a guy pick her up at 2 am so they can hang out. Hello boys, I'm a lot more than I seem during a 10:00 class.
Now only if you were reading this, or at least somebody was. I would kill for a copy editor.
Ahem.
Enough questions for now. Questions I'm sure you won't think about, but you really should.
Until next time, imaginary readers.
Ponder your life's existence, and protest love tattoos.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
For the Wanderers
It will definitely become a habit to create these posts at 2 am. My creativity emerges the best then. What is awful is that millions of ideas go through my head the whole day and now I have forgotten all of them.
As far as the blog, I have no idea where I am going with this. I decided to try to keep a theme with each post. I really don't know how well this is going to work out, considering I am scattered, but I decided that I should sum up my life first.
I consider myself a wanderer. My mind is never in one direct thought path. My life isn't written down in schedules and calendars. I mean, I try to do that, but who really follows those things. This ties into my drastic procrastination habits. I miss the days when i actually had the mentality to start studying a week before the test instead of midnight the night before. I blame college for that. I am an owl. That could possibly be why I am so obsessed.
I hope you enjoyed spontaneous owls. Digression is my best friend. What got me into this general thought path filled with thousands of branches (in a Morgan Freeman voice "like a tree, like a tree") was watching an Episode of Friends today. The relationship between Ross and Rachel is just so precious I can't stand it. Sure the pregnancy was accidental, but best friends can be perfect for each other. But as my life has told me so far, that Hollywood crap is bullshit. As well as paying $2.50 more and driving 23 minutes further than usual just to see The Perks of Being a Wallflower for the second time. I want an undeniable love, but see, that's a totally different story that nobody wants to hear again. I do manage to hug my pillow at night so by definition I am lonely. Well, I practically molest my pillow, so what does that mean for me? I would absolutely love to rant about how I am desperate at only 18, but again, no one wants to hear it.
I am a wanderer. I am just shoveling my paths and sweeping it away as I backtrack. College is the setting for this lovely metaphor. As far as even picking a college, I didn't give myself much of an option. I applied to 2 schools, one in which I never was planning on attending even with my scholarship. Trying to pick a career path was Hell. I settled on communications. One choice I think that I actually did okay on. I keep revisiting one in my head, but haven't dared to tell people. I bring myself down too much to imagine being a successful person. I think I finally have an answer for what my dream job would be. Ellen. That is it. I want to be one of her producers. I have never been so excited for something when I think about it. If you somehow found this unknown blog and know me, now you know.
I am a wanderer because I always feel lost. I turn to wallowing in depression instead of seeking any source of guidance. I don't like others to make me feel small. I like to try to handle things on my own just to feel the satisfaction.
So as the title implies, this is for you. This just scratches the thin surface of my thoughts on the matter, but otherwise we would be here all night. This is for you to know that there is always possibilities. Disney is right. You just gotta believe. They have a point and I swear by it. I don't have a better way of putting it other than this is to show that you're not alone. I never think that I'm doing the right thing. I am honestly telling you, I have those feelings every day. I don't think a TV production path is plausible to me. Just freaking try. As for finding the love of your life, good luck. I'm still on the thoughts of being forever alone.
That's one thing you should know about me, people resent me for my negative attitude. I'm trying to turn it around with this blog.
It's a questionable question. Where are you going in life?
Hell if I know.
As far as the blog, I have no idea where I am going with this. I decided to try to keep a theme with each post. I really don't know how well this is going to work out, considering I am scattered, but I decided that I should sum up my life first.
I consider myself a wanderer. My mind is never in one direct thought path. My life isn't written down in schedules and calendars. I mean, I try to do that, but who really follows those things. This ties into my drastic procrastination habits. I miss the days when i actually had the mentality to start studying a week before the test instead of midnight the night before. I blame college for that. I am an owl. That could possibly be why I am so obsessed.
 |
| The BeatOwls |
I am a wanderer. I am just shoveling my paths and sweeping it away as I backtrack. College is the setting for this lovely metaphor. As far as even picking a college, I didn't give myself much of an option. I applied to 2 schools, one in which I never was planning on attending even with my scholarship. Trying to pick a career path was Hell. I settled on communications. One choice I think that I actually did okay on. I keep revisiting one in my head, but haven't dared to tell people. I bring myself down too much to imagine being a successful person. I think I finally have an answer for what my dream job would be. Ellen. That is it. I want to be one of her producers. I have never been so excited for something when I think about it. If you somehow found this unknown blog and know me, now you know.
 |
| Here we go. |
So as the title implies, this is for you. This just scratches the thin surface of my thoughts on the matter, but otherwise we would be here all night. This is for you to know that there is always possibilities. Disney is right. You just gotta believe. They have a point and I swear by it. I don't have a better way of putting it other than this is to show that you're not alone. I never think that I'm doing the right thing. I am honestly telling you, I have those feelings every day. I don't think a TV production path is plausible to me. Just freaking try. As for finding the love of your life, good luck. I'm still on the thoughts of being forever alone.
That's one thing you should know about me, people resent me for my negative attitude. I'm trying to turn it around with this blog.
It's a questionable question. Where are you going in life?
Hell if I know.
A Test of Your Devotion
I can’t even remember the last time I wrote something for fun. Even though writing is one of my favorite things ever. I’m not going to sit here on my futon in my dorm room and write the great American novel. Far from it. If I still have your attention, then claps to you. You are now reading a totally pointless article about words that just flow out of my fingers.
One day, I will write something life changing. I swear by it. One day a random person will compliment my article and be enthusiastic instead of the awkward “I like your article” No you didn't. The sad thing is, any of my writing that has ever been published has fallen under the category of mediocre. In fact, I feel like this article although pointless and with lack of passion, has the same tone as if I we’re to write about a great tragedy. It’s my sarcasm. I do not apologize for it. This is why I would never survive in Syracuse or some great journalism school. I constantly make fun of my own writing within my writing. I never am proud of what I write. I just enjoy doing it. In fact, everything I do that I love, I pretty much suck at. I absolutely can’t stand when people try to convince me otherwise. Dude, I am not looking for sympathy. I am making you aware that I know I suck so that later when you go home you will feel less obligated to talk shit about my suckiness. Yeah…
You would think that every college freshman, even only at the age of 17 would have found some part of their calling in high school. I feel like a bunny rabbit. Walking around on my own. Just trying to survive and do what I believe I’m supposed to do. I’m shy. I can be eccentric. I enjoy my own company and others me. But I never make an impact. Sure, people let me know on a daily basis how much I mean to them, but I always look right past those words that anyone could compose through a text message. I never actually feel the love. I just float down the river, and if you need my help I’ll be there. That is that. People tell me I’m funny. Those people really need some help. I’m probably the most annoying person I have ever met. Again, no sympathy. I laugh at myself whenever I say that, but it’s the truth. It is what I believe.
So I have danced since I was 3 years old. I absolutely love doing it. But see, I have double D breasts, feel like I look like an idiot, and have no means of motivation to improve. Wanting is not enough. I purely suck. A person saying “well, I could never do that” is not a compliment! No shit. I've only been working on those splits since toddlerhood and only hit the floor when the adrenaline of being on stage hits me. I don’t go around flaunting that I’m amazing and going to the 2016 Olympics cough cough. But there are those people that I do admire. I have idols for what I want to.
I write. Everyone (which is most people) that can write better than me, I am whole-heartedly jealous. I want to possess what they have. Sometimes I do think it’s pretty damn unfair that they’re good at what I love to do. At the same time I don’t really care. I always think I will just automatically improve but I forget that you have to work for improvement.
Still with me?
Okay.
One day, I will write something life changing. I swear by it. One day a random person will compliment my article and be enthusiastic instead of the awkward “I like your article” No you didn't. The sad thing is, any of my writing that has ever been published has fallen under the category of mediocre. In fact, I feel like this article although pointless and with lack of passion, has the same tone as if I we’re to write about a great tragedy. It’s my sarcasm. I do not apologize for it. This is why I would never survive in Syracuse or some great journalism school. I constantly make fun of my own writing within my writing. I never am proud of what I write. I just enjoy doing it. In fact, everything I do that I love, I pretty much suck at. I absolutely can’t stand when people try to convince me otherwise. Dude, I am not looking for sympathy. I am making you aware that I know I suck so that later when you go home you will feel less obligated to talk shit about my suckiness. Yeah…
You would think that every college freshman, even only at the age of 17 would have found some part of their calling in high school. I feel like a bunny rabbit. Walking around on my own. Just trying to survive and do what I believe I’m supposed to do. I’m shy. I can be eccentric. I enjoy my own company and others me. But I never make an impact. Sure, people let me know on a daily basis how much I mean to them, but I always look right past those words that anyone could compose through a text message. I never actually feel the love. I just float down the river, and if you need my help I’ll be there. That is that. People tell me I’m funny. Those people really need some help. I’m probably the most annoying person I have ever met. Again, no sympathy. I laugh at myself whenever I say that, but it’s the truth. It is what I believe.
So I have danced since I was 3 years old. I absolutely love doing it. But see, I have double D breasts, feel like I look like an idiot, and have no means of motivation to improve. Wanting is not enough. I purely suck. A person saying “well, I could never do that” is not a compliment! No shit. I've only been working on those splits since toddlerhood and only hit the floor when the adrenaline of being on stage hits me. I don’t go around flaunting that I’m amazing and going to the 2016 Olympics cough cough. But there are those people that I do admire. I have idols for what I want to.
I write. Everyone (which is most people) that can write better than me, I am whole-heartedly jealous. I want to possess what they have. Sometimes I do think it’s pretty damn unfair that they’re good at what I love to do. At the same time I don’t really care. I always think I will just automatically improve but I forget that you have to work for improvement.
Still with me?
Okay.
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