| hello! |
[14 Nov 2006|06:44pm] |
Hi, my mane is Amanda and I am a high school senior who is seriously considering becoming a philosophy major when i begin college next year. I have been lurking around here for a few months now and really admire this community.
However, as one might imagine, most of these posts are just a *tad* over my head. I suppose this is to be expected, as i have never had the oppurtunity to take any introductory course in philosophy. consequently, i find some of the discussions i've stumbled upon pretty intimidating, which is a real damper on my previous enthusiasm toward taking my education in this direction. i find myself wondering- do i really have the capacity and interest i once thought i had?
So, i thought it might be wise to ask members of this community, especially those whose major is/has been philosophy:
What sort of things do you believe should influence one's decision to pursue a philosophy major?
Also, if you yourself have decided to do so, what led you to the decision to focus on philosophy?
Excuse me if this has already been asked, and thank you for any responses.
-Amanda
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[17 Oct 2006|01:29pm] |
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so, this is definitely the second night in a row i've dreamed about making out with gorgeous men. lmao, yea, way to just put it out there, i guess i dont feel quite like myself today- but maybe it's better that way? lol- who knows!
anywho, so i definitely did. the first dream had the boy i was totally in lub with sophmore yr, so that when i saw him the next day i couldnt even look at him properly, which really is kinda hilarious. he was sitting super close to me (sorta like steven was at sarahs party lol oh steve, mon cherie! love that kid. adore him. but anyway.)(lmao that was supposed to be french.) ... and while he was inches away from me i was avoiding the hell out of him, giving him the real cold shoulder. he got all pissy and asked why i wasn't trying to do "this" and started trying to make out with me. it was bizarre. like i said, awkward to see him the next day.
so then last night, i'm an intern of some sort (lmao) on a reality show that i highly suspect was project runway of a spinoff of said. so i run into one of the contestants, who is a bizarre (but highly attractive) mix of dane cook (!), that guy at CVS, 2 designers on project runway, and damien rice. his face was stubbly and however young and attractive he looked, he claimed to be 44 years old. not caring a terrible lot, i carried on, and after we had to be separated so he could get back to filming i kind of constantly waited to see him again but he almost sort of avoided me, as if nothing had happened. i woke up a bit disappointed, for sure. nice enough guy though, for sure. lol.
oh, an in the first of the two dreams, there was also another really bizarre/disturbing one. me, my mother, and my older brother who was a baby, were all traveling by sled across china in the longest, scariest underground tunnel ever. it was very narrow, full of twists and turns that took us upside down a and in twists and circles. we had to make a stop, and i was trying not to cry from claustrophobia, and mom was cooing over the tiny little fragile plastic figurine which represented david as a baby. it looked like Pinocchio if he dressed more elfishly and were the size of those little cowboy and indian figures we had as kids. in childish curiosity and with some underlying motive to help my mom, i inspected the flesh colored plastic bulb which connected his head to the rest of his felt-wrapped body, and in the process i accidentally ripped his head off and cried. holding the head, i accidentally dropped it down over the edge of the tunnel (i know its abstract sorry) and it basically fell into the sort of oblivion that characterizes a pit in an old super mario game. he was gone, and it was my fault. im not sure if mom forgave me or what.
later, or perhaps previously, i was had/been witnessing the strange kidnapping of what appeared to be 3 simpsons characters. one of them was definitely ralph wiggam, the other most likely lisa, and the third was probably me. we were each put unconscious to be awoken covered in a particular kind of bug. i, of course, was covered in bees, while to my right someone was covered infants, and someone else in another comparably non-dangerous bug. i was frightened, of course, and was seething with fear ad frustration as i tried to bull the bees off of myself in groups of 2 or 3 without being stung. as i managed to pry off a few clusters, begging for help from the other two who were relatively preoccupied, the bees started trying to climb down my undies and onto my butt and that was most alarming of all. i woke up trying to pick bees off my ass and it took a minute to convince myself i didnt have to anymore cause it was a dream.
and while i'm divulging disturbing dreams, i suppose i'll include the dead baby dream. this was probably the most disturbing dream i have ever had- perhaps second most (see room full of rotting corpses dressed up in dolls clothes and makeup put on pedestals- jr high). anywho, so this was fucked up, seriously. a few weeks back, i dreamt that walking up court street on the right side (oddly, because i always walk on the left side of that street), and as i approached the intersection i saw two twin girls, about six, with platinum blonde hair short enough to be a boy's (like mine was at a younger age), each carrying a large load on their backs. each had two backpack straps which they held onto to secure the loads as big as they were, and their loads basically consisted of 10-15 dead babies each, all identical, not concealed in any way. (how they were harnessed, i have no clue). the girls were wandering down the sidewalk and into the street, wailing hysterically, and literally taking the dead babies from over their backs and hurling them into the street, into the nearby cemetery, and anywhere they could think to dump them, apparently, and screaming both to eachother and to no one, "i hope they dont think it's our fault; i hope they dont blame us, i hope they dont blame us". i was in such fucking shock- it was no like a normal dream, were crazy shit like this goes down and i sort of just take it as it comes, but sort of act as if i'm surprised. no, this was the fuckin craziest thing, and i really had to go tell somebody, because evidently there were no other witnesses, and obviously the authorities would need to know about the mass slaughter of babies and these poor girls who shouldered the blame (quite literally). i don’t recall at the moment weather i myself blamed them- i think at first i took a sympathetic view- a presumption of the dream is that their parents were responsible for the deaths, or else their parents are dead. another presumption is these are all their siblings, but this isnt made clear. but the anguish was unbearable enough to suggest the girls were suffering and didnt deserve punishment. however, i remember setting out to blame them from that point on. regardless of whether i did, i sought to at least prove the mass murder of a bunch of helpless infants somehow. i knew somehow that they had dumped quite a few of the babies into nearby stream, which ironically led eventually to some sort of pond that people were actually about to swim in before i arrived. so, when i arrived, it was cloudier than before, there was a lifegaurd, and a large group of people who are senior boys at my school were all getting ready to dive into to water. i sprinted into the water, and swam out as fast as i could, so i could prove the babies were there before anybody else. after the black water was just over my head, i found one o the baby corpses bobbing on the surface, it's perpetually sobbing face pale and purpley, it's skin too cold, to pale too wet. grip for life onto the forearm of the ting, i screamed bloody murder, probably because it was true. i think at this point i woke up.
lesson- dont put pictures of babies on tombstones. cause someone who sees it might have a dream like this. i was glad to at least have some explanation for the fucking messed up dream, anyway.
well, lets see how everyone loves me now, lol
peace,
manda bee
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| upon request :) |
[10 Oct 2006|06:01pm] |
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4 weeks already! ha, and to think, i scarcely have a thing to say. but dont i always have nothing to say? even at this moment i'm saying something, right? loquacious i am.
so i was just reading this article (which most normal bloaggers would link to here, having that nifty sort of expertise which i dont possess) that said women dress ina a more embellished fashion when ovulating. they gave one nifty example of a girl who wore knit pants and a tank top on both her period and ovulation day, buton ovulation day wore a fancier top and extra jewelery. i got a srrious kick out of this, honestly. next time i feel the urge to look pretty, i'll have to abstain. lol.... like it would ever be an issue. (sigh?) (anyway). so the funniest part of it was- how would one assess soemone who has no eye for fashion whatsoever? is that possible? even if so, i suppose they'd try to look nicer by their own definition on an ovulating day. but! lets say someone never ovulates- they wouldnt experience this at all, right? see, because i go months on end without experiecing the slightest desire to look prettier than usual, especially in the spring and summer. hey! boy do i love being dysfunctional. but regardless, i suppose i will find a less cold (boring?) topic about which to spill... i have the urge to say " amore personal topic", until i realize after my previous statements, such is barely possible. (well, ok, we could aalyse photographs. but now i'm just indulging in my OCd about always being 100% right)
it's funny, how i remember a time just a year ago when i wrote a long heartfelt entry about how i didnt give a shit about being right, and how i felt lost and clueless, and am somewhat put down bymy evident lack of progress. lost, i am certainly. but now i am bck to being a compulsive loser. (lol, yes, i constantly have the complusoion to act like a loser- and now i know i'm realy spilling, because i'm hitting that familiar point where i wonder about my own sanity).
actually, speaking of folks writng personal things and sounding insane, have you seen prozac nation? rahter good, i gotta say, and i think christina ricci is a brilliant prodegy genius, despite how sarcastic that all sounded. i remember thinking, dear god, she sounds just like am effed up version of myself- like me about 3 years ago, actually. it was a startling resemblance- especially how in getting better she felt completely out of touch with her effed up personality as she knew it. thats the thing about depression and youth- its hard to get "back to normal" before normal has been established. maybe thats why i've always been afraid to take pills.
ahh, dont you love the stress point of a sentence? i discovered, recently, that the thing about my writing style and voice, toher than the useless stream of conciousness aspect and tendency to over or under-explain, and stale-ly, is that i have aways had an excellent instinct for the rythm of words, and have always capitalized on that stress point at the end of setences. it's sucha neat thing, a stress point...... now wait a sec, why do i not like poetry again? i think it might be because i am just not that smart- but hell, i know i'm smart. i hate to say it so brashly, but hey. so maybe it's because it's more fun to write than to read- but you know, despite my childhood talent for it (i was the only student in my third grade class who was able to write about winter in ryhme and rythm), i suppose i never properly developed it. but i suppose i'd like to.
as far as other things i'd like to develop, or at least learn, there is certainly graphology. it's funny, i think this makes me finally realize what separates me from others who like to learn off the beaten path (though i suppose in theory astrology, tarot, numerology, etc, are very beaten paths, though less conventional than medicine or law). the difference is.... well ok, pause. to tell you the difference, i'd have to explain why other people are into mystic studies. but i dont know. i have no clue why anyone else does this ("would it kill me to just listent to the world for five seconds?"- "yes, dear god, now shut up and let me finish"). but, what i do know, or am i least coming to the conclusion of, is that i best like the sorts of studies that can be used t identify people's qualities and destinies. i think its all my effort to understand people better- and it works! the truly beautiful part about, say, astrology, is that in being an INTJ who is practically incapable of emoting like a normal huiman being (if you dont believe me, see how i react to the death of your close relative, or your parents divorce, or the fact that you barely sleep or your sibling died of cancer. you will notice i am different. and this is not to brag, but to prove a point. though now i wish i hadnt said it, but wont take the liberty of the backspace button seeing as how that's a luxury i shouldnt get accustomed to. but now im just being a silly prick)... in being an INTJ, it's touhg for me to 'get" people and their inner workings without a personalized system through which i can process the information, cause that's kinda how i have to process everything. ha! and being an INTJ is supposed to be a gift. but then again, if i work on it, i could be great. i know this, even as i block out the world, who wants to know where im going to college, what makes me so fuckin super-duper, and why dont i have my license, and whether im virginal or lesbain, and why, exactly, i failed algebra II that one time in sophomore year. if i didnt know better, i'd probably refer them to this blog. The World, that is. Those nosy bastards- ha! suddenly i've reached new heights of egotism. please congratulate me, as i havent the strength to refrain from begging.
goddamni am unpleasnt,
but regardless, i'ma bit tired of this, and as usual a bit scared that i cant write as much as i once did, and thati dont really wish to pour my soul to the world, and would like to keep things to myself soemtimes. its not that that's bad, it's just that this is good, adn id rather not lose this cause i think it makes me damn special.
yawn* i guess i'll go fill out a damn survey casue kenzi said i should. maybe it'll attract a big beautiful man with loving eyes and strong features and perfect fathering skills and intellect adn patience who happens to adore me for god knows what reason, but truly adore me. and, of course, is in my age bracket, financially secure, available, straight, and going places. but noplace i cant go. and will let me do whatever i want.....
goddamn, i'm a needy bitch, too! lol
well,
peace love, and i think its true
miss manda bee
hee, that's me...
tra la lee....
like pods in a pee....
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| uninspired |
[11 Sep 2006|03:10pm] |
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.. or is it totally inspired? i think that i probably am, but not to write. just to be artistic.
i've been thinking about art constantly lately. why is it, that over all these years, i have never taken my art very seriously? upon asking myself, the answer begins to form in my head- it makes me timid, the very thought of it. but then again, theres something about art. art, its not timid. art is bold- but its quiet. but wtf do i know? talking about art. i have no real art background. i've sat here idly all these years, not developing my talents. not educating myself. not really practicing even. and, though its one of those things that really oughtnt be said, (because words are the antidote for magic, or so i'm beginning to realize, when and if magic really exists) i am kinda sorta really talented. at art, anyway. like boom! there, i did it. so why havent i been challenging myself? i love art. i love it. is is so much fun. so why, why, why havent i been trying to develop it? to make a career out of it, even? see this, i dont get. iok, so i lack confidence. is that really al there is that's holding me back? well fuck that. quite enough. no more of that bullshit.
so, with all that in mind- go illustration lol. i only hope that i can start to tap into my creativity on demand, as the class requires. i think i'll really have a good time :)
despite myself, i kind of love school. kind of really, really love it.
*especially* compared to freakin work. do you know how depressed i am that i have to grow up now? jesus, i dont see what all the excitement is about. retail? never again.
so i wont waste all my inspiratoin, or so i'd call it, on this journal. peace!
manda bee
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| hey! |
[25 Aug 2006|08:49pm] |
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yea, so i didnt like my last journal entry. not enough to let it stay my last journal entry. so what did i do? ell, i decided to write another one. lol. yup, yup, here it is, rushed as hell cause this is dave's computer. my other jounal entry. so i dont have to say that last crappy one is my latest journal entry. cause, you kno. its full of spelling errors. lol.
god this isquite possibly the least interesting thing i have ever written, ever. although there was that report i did last october about sids. no that shit was BORING. lol. how can dead babies be boring? evidently, it's possible. just read it. i dare you. mah ha ha....
lol yea i swear im in a good mood. but really i oughta stop no. ok. right. done. peace!
oh btw im halfway through an article explaining why its better to keep some things to yourself. interesting, no? lol. i guess i was right all along. ha! bitches........ ahhh that wrd still equates mike.
shutting up now.
ha
manda bee
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[13 Aug 2006|09:44pm] |
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as i sit here this evening on my day off from work (and thank fucking god but more on that later), i just keep thining the same thing- forcing myself to write seems similar to forcing sex on something. but then again, i realize now in writing that that's not entirely true. foring myself to practice my french horn would not be like that. right? so i think i'm probably just thinking about sx too much. especially consiering i didnt even want to go off on a tangent about the fact tat i havent practiced for months and actually feel a little uilty about that because i know i'm just creating hell and misery for myself. but i guess tat's just what i fucking do.
anyway. thinking too much about sex. and it's funny, how that's just the sort of thing i woulnt actully want to *write* about. why write about something like that? then again, why write about foring myself to write, right? right. but, basically... and it is hard to come out and say this, but somehow i feel compelled to do so (i guess cause i cant get it off my mind?). well basically i need a boyfriend lol. i'm really about to just venture out and ask people if they know anyone who would go out with me.
*but*
not yet. (blecht i hate those words. ever hear of that japanese guy taking pictures of ater droplets coresponding to different words? well i think if he tried "not yet", he'd get awater droplet shaped like an old man fucking his grandson. that's how much i hate those words.)
hey why a i suddenly reminded of the introduction to my exbf's book about being cool? aside from the fact that he openly calls his audience bitches ( i guess we think as siilarly as our astrological synastry suggests), it's probably because, as before when forced writing is suddenly the equivlent of rape, i a still trying to onnect everything as close as possible to sex in my mind today. sex,sex,sex. am i frigging man or what?
urgh that makes me so angry. which, of course, before even writing made me think omg lmfao i am a frigging man all i can experience today is horniness and anger. jesusfuckchrist. it ust be because of work.
i mean it *must* be because of work.
goddamn i hate that place. or is that fair? one thing is for sure- or is it? hatever the case i jut ost my fucking train of thoughtbecause i started thinking about sex. dont rvrn ask me how it happened. buti thik i must be a man. "a gay man" chimes in this little voice in my head that's afraid i'm implying i'm soe sort of lesbain transexual and is just so not cool with that. i think that if i were, i'd still be cool with myself. or as cool as anyone could be with themselves if they were frickin *me*. so i guess it's sot of difficult to judge
- and um can we say egocentrism? i swear every day i spend in that goddamn store i age backward about a month. maybe two fucking months. well, except, i've claerly never fucked... how can i think so much about sex when i've never had it? go frigging fiure.
you know i think i'm kind of lauging about the prospec of someone readin this. anyone might read this. and lmao! i do not fucking care. read it. think what you may. i've already established that i'm an embarrassing, ugly, self-loathing cunt. what more do i have to lose? nah, whatever. i'm ptty confident that no matter how much of an idiot i make of yslef ight now, i can deal with whatever fcking consequences come my way and if they suck? oh well.
hey i'll suck bring it on.
goddan i talk the talk, but i promise you i dont walk the goddamn walk. listen, far as i can tel i havent got fricking legs to begin with. the question at this point is whetheri can grow some?
and btw, i'm as much a caeman as ever when it comes to actually speaking with people. very quiet indeed. i guess i've fimly established my role as an introvert. which is cool i guess. but it's also kinda realy not. se, if i was a hot, intelligent, sensitive introvert it would be fucking awesome. but i'm just a dumbass (hey there's more of those ugly words), and as far as i can tell, i have no redeeming qualities at this point excet a genuine belief in love an a genuine interest in emotionally and physically connecting with a person. note i said "interest". interst does not imply ability. i can sure as fck try. but at this point i barely expect myself to succeed.
but you know what the amazing part is? i've come to the conclusion that i kinda dont care if i'm not perfect. sure, this is really contradictory to how much i hate myself for being an awful selfish brainles heartless bitch. but i was thinking today, about how when i love a person (and goddamn i realy do love a person), i really hae it and consider it completely innacceptable when i dont love them *pefectly*. that is to say, when i love a person, i have always expected my ove to e unconditional, pure and innocet. i thought that if it dint fit this criteria, it wasnt love. but i guess i'm rethinking that now. the way i figure, sometimes i cant stand the people i frigging love. maybe it's not my fault- maybe i'm only human. i mena, fuck duh, i am obviously only human. so i guess what im thining is ther's no use beating myself up over it. so one day i dont particularly like the person i love, or even love the person i love, because i'm in a rotten mod, for example? mabe that's ok. maybe i cant possibly expect myself to be a frigging poser child for unconditional love. after all, i'm an angry person. i think we've already established this (who's we? asks my Imaginary Potential Audience, as someone in my head gets a little pissed that im so cocky and arrogant as to think i'm my own shrink) (and that i'm so goddamn creative and awesome and original with this whole imaginary entity bit). but, of course, i reminded yself, in my little meditation on love, that just becase i find myself at a loss for a feeling of complete love for a person i love at a particular moment, i still must always be good to them. of course, now logic leads me to guess this is probably wrong, too, because i know i treat people like shit. but somehow, somehow im pretty goddamnsure that even if you feel like shit, that's no excuse to treat people that way. but i really fuckin *suck* at that. so i guess we're looking at baby-steps, here.
you knw what's funny about all of his ridiculous non-male-friendly babble is that it's almost exactly what i wouldve written wee this a prvate diary that i wasnt posting on th internet. does that mean i'm an idiot? well whocares. i'm an idiot anyway, right? right.
right right right i hate that word too. goddani have to hate something today. what's with a the pent up sexuality?
must be work. godamni hate work. and there is no one hot at work. maybe with one exception. but almost everyon is either a woman or black. and even the halfway decent people are unaivable or dont reach my bitchy set of impossible standards. i swaer, it's really like i keep myself from what i want. so where the hell did mike come from? it's like he was a frigging gift from god... except that he ont cal me back. bastard. i have half a mind to send him a nasrty letter. but i just sort of give up. he's not interested. the ironic part is i'm not either. but i;m desperate, and i dont have to establish a elationship wiht this kid. he's just *there*.
but even with that there is a problem. i dont love him.
wsigh i am firgging impossible i hope i grow out of this sit. i also hope that a second day way from work will really gt all this negatvity out of my system. cause that shit has me stressed the fuck out andfunctioning like i'm 4 years younger. and when you're 17, that is *not* a good sign.
sigh. well i cant just leave sad. so what can isay? wish me luck finding him.
manda bee
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[04 Aug 2006|09:30am] |
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"does today ever feel like a splendid day to write," i thought to myself, as i sat here on the couch wth the hot laptop burning my legs. and so... well, i guess i'll fucking wirte lol. it's not like i write nearly oftenenough these days anywho, and i figure if i'm really serious about staying a writer my whole life, then i had frickin better at least keep practicing putting thoughts into words, and putting words intot a computer or paper.
this whole porcess may seem obvious to some (like, oh i dunno, writers) and maybe not as obvious to others. well, fucking regardess (not: why do i keep on feeling the urge to say fucking? i think i am very angry about somethig. no clue what tough. i was being a total bitch to my brother yesterday and my mom got all pissed at him too and i felt morly gulty. and now he's gonna go tell his therapist all shit she said- ugh now i am just strssing myself the fuck out. anyway).
so regardless of whether it's the most obvous thing in the fucking wrld, theres something i need to explain to myself on paper about writing frequently and with enthusiasm as i always have and hope to continue to do for many years to come. i begin by reminding myself that at this paticular time, that is the summer of 06', i have become REALLY fucking bad at talking. like REALLY fuckin bad at it. and it' funny (actually, try scary) because never before had i felt i had such a problem expresing myself. i come to wonder: have i always just sucked at expressing myself and am now just coming to realize it? probably. and that's all fine and good, but there still remains one little problem. even if i've always had trouble getting my point across verbally and communicating clearly to a person i have never lacked confidence, fluidity, and enthusiasm in my speech until recently. suddenly, i find myself easiy embarassed, constantly stuttering and losing my train of thought, and even, more often than ever, sort of just plain forgetting how to talk. ok, that is probably a bit of an exaggeraion considering i can still give it a good try if necessary (though it's also frightening that now i suddnly find myself getting exhausted after a certain amount of talking or narrating- something whih has never before happened o me in my life. and trust me, i can speak loudly, clearly and constantly for hours straight. i mean HOURS). but even though i can talk if necessary, ther i this new function in my brain where sometimes, when i really want ot say something, i just decide i'm not going to say it. i just go "fuck i, i forget" and give up even trying to communicate.
ha i probably sound so ridiculous right now because i'm sure the majoriy of people have probably experienced this at one time or another. really, it's sort of a good thing that now i have a discerning filter between me and my gabber. but the problem is, i feel like i'm not in total concious control of that filter.
goddamn i am a frak. w/e. anyway.
so, what's important about all of this dfficulty in speaking that's been going on for a few months is that i'm pretty positive i've found the actual root to my problem. that is, thinking back on my junior year, especially the second semester of it, there was one activiy i've regularly practiced from a yong age that i have kind of completely crossed off my list... or almost completely- and that is tlaking on the phone every single fucking day. ah-ha! i said. eureka! i have found it. i have found the reason why my brain is suddenly unfamiliar with voicing my thoughts exactly as they stream though my mind, and that's why i suddenly feel as if talking is actually a process that taxes my mind and body as a form of excercise. it's becase i'm no longer in the habit of constantly, constantly fucking *talking*
now, there is an upside and a downsde to this. i think they are both fairly obvious. the downside is, i'm no longer as confident and fluid in my speech, most notably my public speech, since signifiantly cutting down both my phone time and my time talking at all witin a group of people. now, when i'm nervous about taling, the words dont just spout forth anyway out of sheer habit as they had in the past. so that's a problem. pls, you know, its frustrating to be a poor speaker. it makes me and the peole i talk to grow impatient and makes conversation unenjoyable. what's sad is, even as i am no longer so addited to taling constantly, i still do occasionally need to make enjoyable and menaingful conversation with peoe, just so i dont feel like i'm alone and friendless and a total dumbass. yea, weird. but it's very, very true.
th upside, of course, is that now i havent constantly got my foot in my mouth. now that words dont immeaiatly jump frm my brain to my lips i suddenly find myself feeling less like i have tourettes all the time, and more importantl find myself deciding whether or not what i was going to say was worth saying in the first place. this is nice. i tend to feel god about that. (lol why all the general statements?). although sometimes i really get anxious because i feel like i shouve said something but didnt. i'm prety sure most normal peole have that itchig little moment whee they're like "damn, i relly should have told him/her what i was thinking just now" but the moment had passed. but i tell ya, it is a fucking new one on me lol.
yea.. umm did i forget to mention i am fucking cazy? just thrwoing that out there in case anyone had forgot(en?). but anyway.
so, in light of these changes made in my speaking patterns as a result of simply not tlaking as fucking often as i used to, i present the case for my continuing to write as often as possible in order to hold onto my ability to do so. (after all, the neurons in thebrain need to keep clicking if they're gonna stick... you know that whole thing...). while there was a definite benefit to losing the habit of constantly being in talk mode, and i dont feel its going to be too detrimental to my life, it is obviously a different case. i was already quite aware that i was actually a raher sucky conversationalist because of what an awful listener i am, how stupid i make myself sound, and my general habit of letting myself say whatver i want to without thinking. however, in the case of writing, i can only spot the following problems- my tendency to explain tings in far too many words, my phobia of proofreading for anything other than grammar and mechanics ( i know, this is a huge probem), and my extreme dislike for drafts. oh, and i guess my general tendency not to get to the point when i free-write. or have a point to begin with. but that's not always the case. and even based just on what i've writen today, i'd say i'm pretty good at winging it. oh and one more thing- i guess 've always kind of assumed myreader is following me and as result skipped parts of my thought process. i've always been an inconsiderate writer and speaker- i'm really not communicating to the needs of an audience. i'm just enjoying the sound of my voice.
but regardless of al of these problems in my writing, there is still a key difference between them and my problems talking. that is, i cant see any way that writing less is going to improve my situation. i have already developed a voice, however it maybe evolving or what have you, and i wouldnt want ot lose it by giving the pen or the keyoard a break for awhile. the nly way i can improve is to perhaps write more slowly, and with more precision. but then, then i'll lose y damn voice.
well, fuck! and here i really thought i was getting somewhee. but no! fuckin no. no cigar.
so i guess the verdict is i keep on writing all the time anyway cause im pretty fucking sure i a great writer and that this is how i got this way. the focus of improvement will be the constant use of outlines and the re-inroduction of drafts onto my writing process. or something like that.. yea i think the drafts ae what make it. i had drafts fo my evolution paper. and that's the best paper i've ever written.
sigh.. all this writing about writing is actually making m tird. which is fine, becasue writng has always made me tired. but it does kinda bug the shi ot of me that htere is nothing particularly clever o really original about this entry. or is thee? i dunno. but i always go for clever and individual, i think even a little bit when i just need to vent.
gosh one thing i need to do is vent more often. but what about? all i think about these days is work and my tarot deck.
that's scary case i could've sworn i used to think about a lot of other things. i'm pretty sure i've turned into soeting my former self would hat. and i didnt even realize it was happening. fucking freaky. bu i hope it's for the better. it probably is.
september's coming soon.
amanda
and lol no i'm not going to explain.
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| hearts, stars, horseshoes.... |
[16 Jul 2006|12:13am] |
yea i feel really really positively great today even in light of all the stpid shi, so i igure in the quiet of the midle of the night i would scribble down a quick little entry, because feeling so wonderful, what could i possibly write that isnt awesome?? ahh. :) i feel ver so peaceful. like i'm resting in a cloud. like i'm falling backwards into a warm night's sleep, in the arms of love, and all that other silly poeti stuff. yea..... i feel like chocolate chip cookie. the good kind. lke the giant ones they give you at school- al big and rond and warm and mooshy and sweet. i feel like if that could be magically transformed into mood- well that would be my mood. chocolate chip cookie.
and to think: i'm still a virgin.
hmmm my too much information siren is just buzzing off the hook right now kind of kills my warm buzz. but nevermind. the later i wait, the worse it is to sneak upstairs an explain why i'm so late to bed :/
but the party was fun and relaxing and i just feel wonderfully, wonderfuly good :)
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[26 Jun 2006|07:34pm] |
i think i've completely lost the ability to rite anythng well, or at least anything constructive. but i am seriously tense.... an i only write when i'm tense? well, whatever the case, i know i usually to read thngs i've written about the way i write, so i guess in the interest of my future self i'll stop that now.
maybe i'll start posting my art like thay bisou chick who got featred this (month?). i gotta say that even though i'm sure everyone is gonna jump on the bandwagon, i am really jealous, and want to finish the really pretty and colorful picture that i started saturday night hangin out with the family and never fnished because we went to uno's
i swear uno's was he cutest. we all got little kids meals cause they're only lke 3 dollars- steve got tiny dinos, whch if you don't know are chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs that come with fries, and i got a hamburger the size of a nickel with cheddar cheese an the fries were awesome, and beca got a salad which as really colorfl and pretty while sarah just ate fries. she got water too, sarah is madd gangsta lol. of course, we all got pepsi cause steve would basically tolerate nothing else :)
probably the most hilarious thing about the evening was the waiter. he was a large man in a blue button up (i guess that's the uniform) and when he came to take our drink orders, he started by putting one small square napkin in front of each of us, and one in the center that said "HEYED"... no typos here that is exacly what it said. so hes all friendly like "hi!" and we're all kinda looking a eachother and trying to ignore the fact that we have no idea what's on the napkin. the second he leaves, we'reall cracking up and tryng o figure out what the hell hi name is. i wanted to say it was pronounced like "hide", kind of like the character on That 70's Show. everyone was saying it in different funy ways, and there was some mention of hs name maybe being ed, like "hey, ed!" but we really couldn' be sure. sometme during th meal, becca took out a rasperry colored sharpie and decorated her own napkin with the word becca, underneath which she wrote in parentheses "bek-kah" and left it in the middle of he table. when i noticed i was positively hysterical. i hope the water didnt notice. if i remember correcly arah was also keeping he napkin on her shirt like a nametag... i hope he didnt see that either. i wanna laugh at him but feel kinda bad at the same time.
at one point during dinner, sarah or steve noticed/pointed out the big bin of retro glass pepsi bottles and steve flipped. he wanted pretty badly to steal one. he even asked a waiter whether he could buy one from them (i really got a kick out of the fact that he was wearing the pepsi shirt sarah bought him). the guy was a real sport, and said that maybe a few were loose even though most of them were gued in there, so if they got one out he wouldn't say anything.... lol.
we had the most kickass dessert, too: between the four of us we split hese two giant chocolate chip cookies with ice cream scoops and whipped cream on top. steve and i like cleaned our plate and sarah and bacca barely touhed theirs!
so when we were all set and the guy was andin us the tip, they finally asked us his name: "if you needed we you could've just said "hey ed".... omg it was so fuckin hilarious we had been calling him hide al night!!! lmao it was hysterical.
on the way out, we found a loose bottle but chickened out. steve tred to force us back in and sarahs like, "we an't just be like 'oh, we just forgot our... stolen pepsi bottle...' and walk out". lmao.
la la anythng else to say? oh, for one thing my mom is making it trendy to ask me for a free astrology reading among the nurses at her work. which is kinda cool cause its a lot of good practice with a relatively easy audience (easier than, say , doing a reading for a primarily skeptic person, especially if that person is male; or worse, someone you know pretty well but not super well). but gosh, t i actually quite a deal of work and as i always suspected i'm not really a fan of all that pressure :/
on the bright side, i can whip out a good page overveiwing someone' wole personalty in a couple hours. on the only two i've done (turns out one of them was for the wife of one of chuck's best friends- eep that is odd and it was totally a coincidence), i was able to cary out a conversation about the person wih mom afterward as if i'd known them as ong as she had. which is cool.
but doing all this free labor, while it is educational for me, is actually enough to make me want to charge. it gets to be a lot when a certain number of people all want free readings and there's no fair way to tell someone "sorry, no i'm not gving you one" after having given them free to others. it rends me of the last day of school this year, when during third period salinda approached me and asked if i could read palms. why, of course i could! oh, and she had a very rare hand! this was true- i had never before seen a real simian line, or else only one or two and i couldn't remember who had them. and it does basically mean the subject is awesome. so i told her she just needs to learn to channel her energies into something mroe serious. and i tell ya, i would really like to do her chart, and give her some advice. but anyway, at that point, others noticed and started to ask. "do you mind?"- of course i didnt mind, i enjoy this!... after about 4 people i thik i began to mind.
anyway, yea... yawn i'm bored. i _really_ want my SAT scores now.....
peace out!
:) amanda
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| excited but distracted |
[22 Jun 2006|08:39pm] |
You know, today i am really over-excited about a few things. it's sort of a shame that that very exitement kind of scares the living shit out of me, so it's not all that easy to indulge in it.
first, a little miacle happened yesterday. goddamn do i love little miracles- the very expression reminds me that i have had my share of said recently but would rather not spol ther fabulous magc with a journal other people can see (remember: i am a loose, non-commital journaler. this is one of at least 3) (anyway)
so yesterday, after my post, i kind of just let myself go... you know, cry or whatever. (jesus like i said i am embarassing). so i'm sitting in my hell-hole of a messy room, and know i can't let myself be this fucking upset anymore, so i pick my ass up and start searching every nook and cranny of my room for that goddamn college list. You see, without this list, i was lost (asindcated in my previous entry). if i was to finally get down t i and pick a college or 5, i had to use this list. ms.mcdnough made me a list of colleges in late april and assured me that i could get into any of the 9 "moerately difficult" schools on bridges and maybe get into one of the "very difficult". (naturally, i like all the goddamn difficul ons more. fuckin figures. that's me) (anyway)
so as i'm looking, i saw a large white folder- ahh! :D that was it!!!! it had to be- oh could it be????? i tore the damn thing open: PSAT scores, practice test scores, college letters.... THE LIST!!!!
i ran downstairs to continue my search.
so that little miracle was wonderful, and i started looking up the colleges and what essays they required last year and writing the questions down (damn pdf i had to type them out myself). and while i was there, searching, listening to my brother's music list, and feeling more poductive and hopeful han i had in days, i just heaved this big sigh of relief. thank god. maybe i wouldn't be a lousy white trash my whole life after all.
so this morning, i woke up, and i honestly dont remember why, but i felt *amazing*. i'm thinking, maybe i had a good dream, maybe i finally accepted certain truths of my life which were driving me mad, maybe i was delusional. but i knew immeadiatley i was about to havea fantastic fucking day. now what may be surprising, even to those who know me, and hell maybe even to myself, is my idea of a fantastic day. after a delicious bowl of raisin oatmeal and soymilk, and an overly-sweet iced coffee, i showered, dressed, and spent at least four hours just cleaning shit. like, it was so amazingly awesome (like i sad, i'm a little scared). and i love love LOVE a clean room..... ok you kno what? i nteven write wel w/ the godamn tv on. it's crlos mencia dn now i cant even write about how i think i'm prolly bpolar and maybe be poetic and secretive about all the things i really care about but am trying to hide from myself....goddamit! when am i ever unable to concentrate. well fuck this. i am so fukin manic right now. jesus. christ. what was i so excited about??? oh, right. i a excited realizing how muh goddamn wriing i have. i kinda cant wait to go back and read it someday. i hope i stillthink it's good. i prolly wont.
anyway think i'm gonna split. peace now, ya'll.
grr.
amanda
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| sigh* |
[21 Jun 2006|04:48pm] |
i need a little breather from this whole college search process. i mean could i be more embarassing????? it is the end of my goddamn jr year and i STILL have yet to pick a college :'(
for the following reasons i would like to go hide under a rock:
-i lost my social security card and therefore couldn't get my permit today
- i have not picked a college or 6
- i'm pretty sure there is no possible way i will get into any college i wont be embarrassed to tell people about
- i have no idea what i'm doing while i'm searching for colleges
- i think i may be looking at colleges that are way out of my reach
- after a full 10 minutes of carefully refining a college search, my one and only result was BSC
- if i go to BSC, i will be stuck living at home, still sharing a bunkbed with my sister and working in retail
- i cannot get into a good college
- i do not have a license
- i fucked up on my SATs
- i just gave the library $20 dollars in late fees and still owe $8
- i am not taking one single AP class. not even english. (kill me please).
- i have no volunteer hours to speak of.
- i dont have a permit and cannot afford a car.
- i cannot handle work, school and marching band and am not sure what i'm going to do about it
- i cannot make my own decisions or speak for myself in public
- i realized, today, that maybe the reason i went through hell at the registry was because i still can't ride a bike.
- i just gained another 10 lbs this month. i am turning into a mammoth.
- i'm pretty sure that i'm partially retarded, bipolar, and a hypochondriac.
- my mom is very irritated with me
- my brother is also irritatd with me
- i suck at life
- i cannot tell people when i love them. even if i'm prety sure i'll never see them again.
- i hurt people's feelings and don't know why.
- i'm afraid i'm going to get fired
- sometimes i'm afraid i'm going to die soon
- sometimes i'm afraid i'm going to die alone
- sometimes i'm afraid the people i love best will die and leave me helpless.
- sometimes i'm afraid i will amount to nothing
- i'm often pretty sure that i am an idiot
- in comparison to the bright young people i know i am tragically behind.
- i always want to cry
- i hate everything
.. ok this really didn't calm me down enough to help with my colege search. and am i going to continue to poour stupid words out of my mouth? yes. omg i'm fuckin crying now. i can't even see the screen. now my contacts are getting ruined.... FUCK....
how am i gonna do all this? :'(
bye.
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| well lol |
[19 Jun 2006|11:50pm] |
yea i dunno i guess i realy do wanna finish up what i was trying to say yesterday, even with my brothers crapy keyboard and my inability to... ha my inability to remember waht i was about to say. but first, some official book-keeping:
today was sarah's party whih was rather cool. i had planned to go to school an the band clean-up and hitch a ride to sarah's party from there. then, on my way to the bus terminal, i happened to run into steve and sarah! it was widly hilarious and we decided (or i decided) to follow them to the family dollar while they bought stuff for the party later. it was wild fun, and i got to tell them stories about junior high and stuff. we headed back to sarah's, and afer some hawaiin punch (or i guess during it) i realized i had to cach the 10:00 bus if i didnt want to wait for the 10:45, which would have sucked cause the band cleanp started at 10. so steve and i ran, because he was picking up becca at the bus terminal anyway. afer weaving througha all the crazy sidestreets and all, plans changed a little. As we walked down the sidewalk, we saw the cary hill bus approaching fresh from the terminal and onto the street, with the terminal in eyeshot and everyhing, but not in running distance (at least not in this weather). i was PISSED (and dammit arent i always? jesus. anyway). so we wait awhile, i buy steve and me some iced coffee at the honeydew they have in there, and finally my bus arrives around 10:40. i get on board, even though steve still cant find becca (i still feel kinda bad about that), and i'm off to school.
so i get to school, and intimidated immeadiately by the proportion of teacher to student being flip-flopped, leaving me in the minority, i practically run to the guidance office where i feel assured i have official business to attend to. there, i wait a minute (awkwardly) for the chance to return those stupid pre-ap books to ms.mcdonough. finally, i go into her office and giveher the damn books, asking quickly if she could pull up the latest version of my schedule, paricularly because i waned to know if i got an art elective this year. i indeed got illustration, and taking a glance at my schedule, saw that i also have mrs.shute next year, as well as bartlett, a gym class, band (duh) and two other teachers whose names i cant recall. i wasnr super pleased aboutthe shute thing- yes, i was a relief that it wasnt the infamous mcquaid, but i've heard worse about shute. oh well, what do i know? i distinctly remember the summer before junior year when i envisioned the name mcsherry as some random 40-something bonde woman. so i'l try not to read too much into my hunches. (ha ha or should i lol)
then, i decided it was very, very important that i found out my final grades asap, and mustered the courage to walk the bhs halls alone in puruit of 3 subject teachers. first, i was pretty confident r215 would house my fav teacher and much-anticipated history grade, and much to my delight he was there, in th barrenly-blank room, with what i was sure had to be his son, if only because the kid looked too young to be in high school. even then, i think one tends to carry oneself in a certain way in the presence of their father/son. mabe it's too much to say that i could swear i saw that dynamic. more importantly, it was, and i said hi brian, and have you (teach)done the grades yet, and miaculously i seem to be looking at an A- for at least the second term, if not the two combined. i was pretty frickin shocked and psyched. then i ried really hard to pry myself out of the room, considering i had other things to attend to, and they were trying to finish the grades. after small-talk or w/e (i asked brian what he "bought" though i shoulda said "got" his dad for fathers day- it had somehting to do with mickey mouse and coffee and i smiled. abby who calls me jane came in and said mrs cofflin gave her a bunch of snacks, and i know mrscoffin she's my moms friend and i can barely say hi to her cause i always wanna call her juliet. mcsherry smiled. round then he'd been distracted long enough and voiced that pretty subtly but effectively so i tred to pull myself from the room and eventually did. on a side note, abby said "dude, every time bunar yells 'Amanda!' i'm like 'No, it's Jane' to which i replied 'wait a second: bunar doesn't yell 'Amanda!'" to which "umm, yea he does" to which i basically changed the subect because i hate suspecting things that arent true.)(is she his cousin? oh well w/e)
gosh am i getting intothis story. i hope at least i can enjoy reading it someday.
so from r215, where evidenty i'm allowed to visit 'anytime' (ppl say the siliest damn things and in the name of what?why be so damn pleasant? anyway), i wander first to find my latin grade. joel did an excellent job of not waving back to me from across the yellow cafe, which slightly peeved me. what further peeved me was ms. baldini's absence from her desk in yellow- mind you, she cant be blamed for wanting to be the hell out of there, but i still kinda really wanted my grade. the nice old teahcer lady said she was out to lunch, so i was off to pursue my astronomy grades. (on the way out of the cafe, the lunch ladies also did a top-notch job of not noticing me waiving, and my suspicion/paranoia that i am slightly retarded and others can sense it mounted and began to make me furious).
my astronomy final- now there was a surprise. but first, before getting there, i realized steve had asked me to check his grade, and so i went to B201, like he specified, and began to search, quite aware of and slightly amused by the fact that his teacher, who i have never met, was inside looking out of the class window, seeming perplexed. at the same time, i was quite lost because there in my hand lay steven's id (he looks like a columbian druglord lmao) and yet his number was not on the grade-chart thingy. the man came out and said that sort of 'hi' one might say in a situation with a stranger where they're prepared to get quite angry if necessary, but for the moment are staying polite until they know what's going on. i think i was stifling laughter, but it's just as likely i was stuttering and making weird nevous gestures. i explained steves intructions, holing up his id, and the man warmed up, revealing that the 0's at the beginning of id numbers were omitted. i was relieved ( i hope i thanked him)
so, after that loveliness, i made my way down to get my astronomy grade. there outside the dark, empty astronomy office (the astronomy room had an 'out to lunch' sign) was a scrap of paper with 10 Id numbers written down it in what appeared to be overhead marker, each with a column for first/second term grades, final grades, and semester grades. i was last on the nifty little list, and it appeared that somehow... i had FAILED the final! i double and triple checked that i was looking at the right id number. how did everyone else do?... just as poorly in a couple cases. but WOW. FAILED. and it was open-notebok, too. still, somehow, i managed to pull a B for the semester. ha! in yo' FACE! lol.
since it was in close proximity and i wanted to give ms b some time for her lunch, i decided i's finally hit that band clean-up. as i approached the room, i could hear the unmistakable laughter and rough-housing of band-geeks, reassuring me that i was indeed showing up to a band-room clean-up and not walking into a dead silent band room, possiby occupied by adults of various sorts, unannounced and with little reason. but when i got in, i seemed that the majority of work was prety much done. after a few awkward moments of practically folowing around suzi and ket for a lack of any other sense of direction, i said hi to laura, asked if she happened to be leaving, and since he answer was a no decided to go it alone. i realized atthat moment i had no ride to sarah's and was depending on band ppl for one, which i think brouhgt me back t following sue and ket, who upon kk's orders were retrning a vacuum someplace. after a rather funny convo between them and melanie (my alleged aqua twin, says suzi) and concluding that she is wayy cooler than me, i decided to get my latin grade and get the fuck outa there.
so i made it to yellow, and it seemed tha ms.b was taking something of an extended luch and that i'd have to call her/email her. i was walking away, generaly uncomfortable and irritated, when i realized i'd be taking the bu home and began to count my change. after a lot of fishing, i foraged 75 cents. who could i ask for a quarter? well, there were plenty of ppl i could've asked for a quarter. but i was downright pissed about something, most likely the band cleanup and missing it, and i wasnt really thinking. i gravitated toward r215, where i poked my head in the door and asked in a stage whiper and witout any social grace to speak of if anyone had a quarter. "i need bus fare" i remember saying, to which abby tels me to call my mom, and i say no way she's sleeeping and sick. blah bah this black girl hands me a quarter and i say thank you i love you and run for my life, pissed at myself for being such a spaz.
on my way out of the school, i spot joel and his rotc friends, including that rich and some other ppl i really couldn identify. he yelled across the street asking where i was going and i was going home, why? they were going to burger king. i wanted to go to bk, but had no money, was going to sarahs party, but oops im not supposed to mention parties you didnt hear that, and i began to ramble while following them. "are you still talking to me amanda?" "abso-fucking-utely i am... ar you not lisening?" and of course he wasn't so i let them get farther ahead of me, called sarah to make se steve and becca got home okay, and progressed to the bus stop and thus to the party.
... sigh. tell me how it's posible i got exhausted telling the prepary story? well, i did. and i'm pooped it's past 1.
peace out! :)
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| wow |
[18 Jun 2006|05:31pm] |
i now kinda wish i was one of these awesome ppl with the featured journals and al of that. i feel like: could i ever make a documentary of my own life or some toher seeimingly random and pointless BS so completely awesome/amazing/attractive to veiw? and the answer, well it's just kind of a "no".
like, i look at this journal and think- well wtf do i think? i think it's a great read most of the time. could it stand to be jazzed up a little? yes. is it bunch of pointless BS? you betcha... maybe i'm just not as interesting as some of these people. is constant self-absorbency with borders total delusion/insanity/ whatever i dont feel like choosing interesting? well, no. it's rather run of the mill, as i've come to understand it. not to mention, there's a lot of it here. so much of it, in fact, that i doubt anybody but myself could ever possibly enjoy reading it. and somehow, all in one moment, i just wnet through a lightning fast thought process i can barely recall tat makes me feel quite at peace withthat (oh wait no i get and there lies the beauty lol): this is how _I_ write. i write for me. and that is what makes me so goddamn special, dammit.
ugh but i really intended to write about other things, even as i find more and more recently that my desire to voice or otherwise express any of my thoughts, feelings, or opinions is relatively minimal, at least in comparison to how it's been as long as i can remember recognizing such a trait in myself. (on a side note, i'm also pulled in the direction of the thought that i never do seem to write about w/e it is i intend to write about when i sit down to do a journal. it makes me wonder not only what it'd be like if i could really constructively express my thoughts here but why it is that i can never seem to realize a single thought or dream i have or set one vision into actual motion. i guess suzi was right about this being the year of the Magician, and me just so not being the Magician.)
BTW-SORRY i dont remember how to put a nifty l-j cut for those less fond of giant rambings of practically menaingless text on their friends page, or any other page for that matter.
(as she thinks to herself- menaingless text=meaningless life??? and stifles the frequent urge to cry, as she does so fucking frequently these days)
in light of that parenthetial confession, i suppose i'll bore/enlighten you with soem of my emotions and all that other stuff no one realy cares aboutbut me (lmao suddenly i think i'm a martyr... when will i grow out of this bullshit? well iguess it would be now, seeng as how i've finally developed the darkest sense of humor EVER, which i presume is the result of the world weariness ive recently acquired as indicated not only by my horoscope but my mother).
first order of business, is that which is most obvious to me but least to anyone else: o lmao they're home i have to go eat ice cream and do some lady's horoscope. go fuckin figure. peace
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| roar*.... prom |
[30 Apr 2006|09:54am] |
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so prom.
yea, i went. whatever. that surprises the hell out of people for soem reason. and they're all like "was it fun?"
... so what eactly am i supposed to say? was it fun?.... well. ok. since i feel like bitching, i am going to give my full analysis now.
firstly, i really hated the way i looked. my mind will not be changed on that one. i looked like crap... although i realy liked the corsage my mom was nice enough to buy me. it's really perrdy, as is the bag. but my shoes didnt match (my bag). my boobs kept popping out of my dress (i felt like an ugly attention whore it was awful). my hair, well i guess that was an amazing feat to get it all in one big bun, but it was titled to the left (as always) and i felt like i dditn have any hair to cover up my chest. so there's one criteria.
nextly, there was the dancing and stuff. now, i dont really dance. but i tried. i had no other choice but to sit alone some place. i really, really wish people wouldnt dance on the edge of crowds. that drove me berserk- i cannot just dance on the edge of the crowd whre someone could potentially notice i look like a retard (becasue i do i'm sorry). i really enjoyed the 20 inutes toward the end dancing in the midle where it was dark w/ michelle and ket and them, but toehrwiseit was painfully akward. all the people i really wanted to hang out w/ basicaly had dats and therefore no need for my company, or else i couldn't find them. oh, and did i mention the music, for he most part, kindof sucked? yea. i'm white, sorry folks.
ugh. i wont gt too far into this one, but i really hate certain people. like people who try to avoid me. yea. fuck them. bastard.
anything else? ... i felt like everyone else looked way better than me, basically, and that everyone else was having a beter time. i had a sore throat and i didtn have a set group of friends. so by 10:30 i just wanted to go home. at least i got to take my pic with steve! that was nice of him... i just hope i dont look like shit in it ( i prolly do).
i guess, i guess i'll stop now. but goddamn, i jst wanna cry. i cant beleve i wasted all that fucing money on some stupid unenjoyable shit. when i read my horoscope i knew that it was gonna be like that- my horoscope sucked for friday night. well, fuck it all, it's over now. fuck.
peace.
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| wish*~ |
[22 Apr 2006|10:19pm] |
if i wish for soemthing hard enoguh, can i have it? please?
there are some things in this world that i just want so so badly, some things that i just crae with every ounce of my soul, and stuff liek that just never comes ot me. like, when i want soemthing, i will not ever get it. no matter how wonderful it is or howw much i want it.
yea, you're saying duh. but i guess i'm just a little- well, you know, crazy or whatever. it's just like, if i wish that it would be true, it should just be true... la la la i guess i'm gonna go dream now. gosh do i hope i dream aout beautiful things.
someone remind me why i still write when everything i write is embarassing worthless shit. thanks.
peace, yawnn,
amanda
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[21 Apr 2006|06:48pm] |
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ugh*
do i ever need to unwind.
it's funny, i didn't even DO naything today. (i mean really, i did nothing) and i am just so freakin drained it's kinda bugin me. but then again, who cares if amanda's drained? maybe i -should- start writing for an audience.
but i guess right now i'm writing because i feel like i need soem purity and writing is the only i can possibly vent allof hose psycho-toxins that a driving me to lunacy lately. i feel like i need a mental shower.
lol. laughter is a great way to take a mental shower. that must be why we love laughter so much- it's lik taking off al that sludgy, mucky seriousness, tension, anger form our brains and just dissolving it into nothing, sometimes genlty, sometimes with a nice long bath, and sometimes with a fantastic burst, like witha water-hose.... yea ok so i just compared laughter to barianwashing. all who actually feel like that's a do-able topic say "i" < [ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<cue [...] 'aye>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] ugh*
do i ever need to unwind.
it's funny, i didn't even DO naything today. (i mean really, i did nothing) and i am just so freakin drained it's kinda bugin me. but then again, who cares if amanda's drained? maybe i -should- start writing for an audience.
but i guess right now i'm writing because i feel like i need soem purity and writing is the only i can possibly vent allof hose psycho-toxins that a driving me to lunacy lately. i feel like i need a mental shower.
lol. laughter is a great way to take a mental shower. that must be why we love laughter so much- it's lik taking off al that sludgy, mucky seriousness, tension, anger form our brains and just dissolving it into nothing, sometimes genlty, sometimes with a nice long bath, and sometimes with a fantastic burst, like witha water-hose.... yea ok so i just compared laughter to barianwashing. all who actually feel like that's a do-able topic say "i" <<cue room of blankly staring audience not saying 'aye>> yea that's what i thought too.
ok. moving on.
so blecht, i have to wrok tomorrow. really, don't wanna. what's worse, is right after my shift i am goinna hafta..... aww fudgenuts i completely forgot to go in and pick up my check today. they didnt shcedule me for soem reason... and yet they keep on fucking calling me and it is just never when i'm home. i swear ot god i have the best luck (or is it the worst?) when it comes to these things. but w/e i guess it wont be all bad, i mena i really dont hate work . sometimes it's sorta fun. but the haircut, that i'm not looking forwad too :(
yes, it's true ladies and gentlemen- i really have to cut my hair. i know, i am as depresed as- hey you're not depressed at all. Oh Imaginaries! why don't you care one damn bit thtai am positively mortified, peeved, and unspeakably nervous and irritated that i have to cut off my beloved hair tomorrow? god*damn* i am just not happy about leaving it all behind :'(
"donate it, donate it"... i don't have any desire to donate my hair, good cause or not. truly, i am very lazy, and if i can't get around to sending my best friend a letter, how can i expect myself to mail a 14-inch ponnytail of hair (or 3) to a non-profit organization i honestly have no knowledge of how to contact. eep. it's for a good cause, but i guess i'm just not really a good person.
some imaginary entity totally wanted to smack me across the face just then.
^ can you imagine how psycho i must sound to soemone who knows a thing or two about abnormal psych? i mean dear god, it's like i have no shame. i must constantly reveal the same set of insane traits... am i ever the broken record. somebody shut me the fuck up. please. befoe i get hurt, huh? maybe i could use a real stern controlling friend right now. or maybe that would make me feel like shit. who knows.
well i havent much else to sya today. i could say that despite all this ugliness i can manage to find a place in my reality where i am still in love, if not witht the world or soem person or idea or entity then at least in general. i could say that i am sad, as i always am. i coud say i'm stressed, i cou;d say my mom is stressed, myh dad is stressed, my borther is troubled, my sister is sad- i could say all sorts of things. sigh*
i wonder if dave is coming home tomight. nice as it would be, in theory, i dont think he even wants to hang out with me anyway. rejection on a small scale, even if only in theory, cripples my capacity to love< fact.
i'm suddenly exhausted and want very badly to sleep even though i shhould really work becasue ionly in sleep can i imagine for a second that... god i despise these words... but only then can i imagine that soemone out there loves me and wants not only t take care of me, but to make me happy. and this may be an insult to people who.. well... god i honestly dont... ok no one wants to hear about this iso i suppose i'll shut my fuckin trap.
peace, amd i'll try not to wallow in self-pity,
manda
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[19 Apr 2006|05:13pm] |
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Reckless Blogging: Lesson 1:
Remember to write a nice long blog entry when you're good and pissed! :)
roar! >( i am seriously so fuckin pissed on't let the clever fucking joke fool you. right, like i'm ever frigging clever/ clever? what's clever. clever doesn't exist, go fuck yourself.
seriously just go ahead and fuck yourself, bitch. i'm sure you do it all te time, i'm sure you miss dumbasses who you would happily settle for cause you think you're ugly, cause you're just fucking like me. i almost feel sorry. but w/e, we all fuck up. and i really don't give 2 shits how other ppl feel right now, cause honestly, right now, all i fuckin care about is the fact that i hate my lie, i hate my body, i hate you, and i hate everyone around.
and you wanna know why??? you really wanna fuckin know??? it's cause (yes, i am a psycho bitch but you knew that) everybody is fucking avoiding me, i just know it :'(''''' i just HATE fucking vacation because i am always just so alone and no one ever wants to hang out with me ever. and of course, of course then it's always like who can fucking bLAME them, i mean who wants to be around this shit all the time? i eman honestly, who would subject themselves to soemone wth feelings like this? who would subject themselves to soemone who hates themselves, hates life, hates everything? i sure as hell don't care if someone's life fucking SUCKS, but i happen to know that most people with their sanity intact tend not to want ot socialize with basket cases such as myself, who avidly indulge in all of this paranoia and whatnot. who would want to? i mena honestly, it's clear that it's more of a drain than a gain. so why bother??
so i guess that's why all the people i love best want nothing to do with me. right? is tht why whenever i try to talk to someone i love i feel defeated and hurt and timid, cause i know i'm a stupid bitch like that? is it? it's gotta be. it's gotta be cause i know deep down that i fucking SUCK. i know that when i get angry (and i am so angry, always so angry, always on the verge of rage and tears) i couldn't care less about other people.
take today, for instace. i was so happy to wake up this morning, cause i knew today i was getting my prom dress and stuff. i was psyched, seriously, to be finally getting out of the house to do soemthing other than work. so we left, the shopping was.... well... whta can i say it was shopping. honestly, i left really wanting to cry. you know me. but maybe you don't know that i get extremely tense and depressed when i go shopping, because oi just hate my body, and i know so well that i am realy not that pretty, but i just can't accept that i'm this ugly. i just CANt. i knwo it's tabooo for a girl to cal herself ugly, and i know that no one wants to hear it, and i even know that i i were to admit it and claim thti was confortable with it people would either a) not believe me or b) actually treat me like i was a confident person who didn't care. so guess who's using common sense and who's an idiot? and guess who's right? well i'm not going to enlighten you. so go fuck yourself.
so what happened today, is we had to go back to the dentist to tell them soemhting was up with the procedure i just got done (don't even get me started with that fucking thing: i payed 250 in cash out of my own fucking pocet for soemthing masshealth apparently would've given me for free. i was pissed when i found out it was the exact same fucking thing.) so we're there, and i'm a little embarassed that i had totell the doc she screwed up, cause i knew she was gong to be mad, it was going oto cost money, and that she was going to try to convince me it didn't need fixing. that's the thing about being on free insurance for poor people. doctors avoid spending any money on you unless they think you might die. then they'll get the cheapest service possible.
so anyway, while i'm there, i don't even offer my mom a fucking seat, and she is in pain and exhausted and all that shit, and she's doing me favor after favor, adn i don't even offer her the only seat. i didn't even think of it, i was so absorbed in my Time magazine. i am just a thoughtless fucking bitch like that.
(Critical thinking: what makes amanda's blog paricularly reckless? what might be the consequences of this recklessness? as you read the following passage, make sure to note the impact this entry might have onthose to whom it adresses, either directly on indirectly)
so the real reason i sat down to write this (well, more stormed upstairs to rant this) was because i fucking hate being left home alone ot do nothing, and feeling completely alieated form everyone i know at school. i'm sorry: i hate it. ok i'm not sorry. i'm just saying i'm sorry so you wont attack me. the sucky thing about tht is, that's the reason i've said sorry my whole life, pretty much, and now that i'm occassionally actually sorry for things, no one gives two shits or believes me. people actually feel this crappy emotion, this 'sorry; thing, all the fucking time? please. everyone else is lying too. w/e.
but i really do hate it. i hate it. i hate hate hate it >:'(
why????????????????????????????????????????????????
tell me, am i stupid for wondering why? does it really fucking matter why? is that really going to fucking solve anything? i know the reasons of plently of things. that doesn't mean i'm going to do anything about them. nor can i, to be fair, in some instances.
i wonder who you are today, Imaginary Potential Audience. are you my permanent Unattainable Object of Affection? I i bet you really are. i bet you're just that fucking part of my subconcious that recent events have made me PIANFULLy aware exist that i use to supress my feelings or whatever i use it for. i bet it's you. hi, how are ya? i hope you're aright. but not really. because i hate you. so go fuck yourself genius.
speaking of genius, i had funny thought yesterday. if i wrote the dictionary, the definition fo rdictionary would not be the stupid one i looked up, that tlaks about a volume of alphabetized lists of words with definitions, pronounciation, and word origin listed. no. it would say "you're fucking holding one, genius". and that's how i would vent my rage to the universe.
but i din't write the dictionary. lmao, go figure.
why in the hell would anybody in their right mind read this? please reflect on the fact that i seriously doubt your motives. unless you're amanda (hi amanda!) << yea just htought i'd give myself a little love right there casue the presumptin is in the future i wont have any nmore than i do now but i'll proabbly deserveit better and need it more. how's that for self-centerd and egotistical? and wouldn't it be cool to be a leo and just love myself anyway? ha! fuck love. what has love ever done for me?... well iok i get a geniune pang of guilt when i say that, cause i guess love has done plently for me. i guess i just don't love anyone right now and that's sort of wearing at my insdes and making me want ot be a bitch. w
hy do i want to be a bitch? oh yea, i forgot, the answer is gonna do nothing for me anyway.
well even though i supposee i really cna't end on a satisfactory note of any kind, and this excessive venting which i never intend to read ever ever again becasue of how shamefully stupid it is going to sound from any persepective other than mine at this present moment hasn't eased the extreme pain i feel inside right now because the people i love want nothing to do with me and i have nowhere to place the blame but on me or them (yea maybe i'm narow mindd but goddamn i just can't find anntoher guilty party in this whole thing); i suppose i will have to drop of here. no, i wont come back, even though i should probably finish what i've started. but hey, if i'm gonna be a wreckless blogger, why not make a shitty exit? that's what i thought. right
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[13 Apr 2006|08:53pm] |
probably, as usual, i have more constructive things i could be doing right now but as usual i hve decided to type, even as i have exhausted my intellectual and emotional resources for the time being and have basically beaten my mental health to a pulp, and don't even ask me how i swear i have no clue what happened to me; considering that fact i have no justifible reason whatsever to be typing right now but i sort of just have to becasue i have ocd like that.
omg, who in their fucking rigt mind would read this. seriously. who would read this? not to insult you, oh Imaginary Potential Reader, but why the fuck would anyone in their right mind read this? see, i don't write to be read in the same way that i rarely tlak to be listened to. and yet i talk.
have this urge to burst into one of those drama queen moments and just say "god i am depressed"
but i'd rather not indulge my dramatic tendencies any further today.
speaking of inborn tendencies, one of the more hilarious highlughts of my day was when vmac was all like 'i'm a scorpio' when he was trying to explain how he feels toward people. it was fucking *hilarious*. he was so dead on. he says 'scorpio's favorite color is red: my favorite color is red. scorpios have strong likes and dislikes: there you go"... and i'm just sitting there going "scorpio's favorite color is red?" lmao. w/e. i was dyin. go vmac. i'm so glad he won!
you know, it's cool being able to respect a male adult. by jove, were i not in band i would be a very, very different person.
see, cause vmacs not like the other two assholes i have to listen to daily... but i wont go there. even the most endearing people can be absolute jackasses because i am just fucked up like that.
ahhh well now that i've dipped my thoughts too long in th stale psych pool i feel the need to drift to soemthing else. the only trouble is that the stale psychology pool is where i've been lurking for days now, weaving in out, spastically trying to escape through excessive coffee intake, desperate social interaction, excessive sleep in abscence of coffee intake, and just plain being excessive in every way posible. ha! and i claim not to understand the planet jupiter.
well i don't.
lol, it's so not scary t have a conversation about myself w/ myself.
o wait, yes it is. fucknuts. grr. i hate life.
not that i'm, ya kno.... w/e. i can't even stay on topic today, that's how dysfunctional i am. gosh if anything noramlly i can fix myself onto one topic for way way too long even if i do digress constantly i always reel myself back in, there's always aheme, but i just fel like i've lost it.
but in more positive news, i have finally decided ( i think) on a majr. what makes the most sense, for reasons i can't even quite logicaly justify yet, is to be a philosophy major. and why not? well, soemthing in my head, something very capricorn, screams at me. it says "cause you're going to be unemployed if you do that". the rest of me, even the creative forces, and the idealistic forces, the logical forces, say go for it. my intuition is having a little hiccup right now, unfortuneatly, prolly cause i need to be on meds.
i could so teach a class on how best to excercise reckless blogging. because i am a wreckless speaker, and so why not be a wreckless blogger?
sigh* i wonder if anyone has read that shitty essay i worte for the english contest. good god, why did i do that? i'm slipping into that place in my reality where everyhting is scary and i just want ot cry.
my reality. i like that... That's not to say i like my reality, it's just to say i likethe idea of having one of my very own. 'm possessive and proud like that. 2nd house moon leo. look it up.
grr... frickin yellow shirt (and no i will not remember in 20 yrs who yellow shir is and frankly i dont wish i cared, but guess i do care, fuck) walks in today, asks what class it is, calls for me a couple times before i know he's there, and says 'amanda, this is astronomy, not astrology". i guess he was just joking but i will fid ny excuse to harbor resentment against nayone right now. watch me.
i am just waitng for hte day to be over so i can save my misery for tomorrow. it's almost 9 now and i have no one ot talk to, no one to call, nothing to do ut sit and dabble in mental games that i realy oughtnt cocern myself w/ in such a random ass malleable shape of mind. grr.
w/e. i guess i'm outa hre. mybe i'll be back.
peace out, desperate love,]
manda b
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[30 Mar 2006|06:13pm] |
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hey, get this, my mom's uranus is exactly conjunct my IC. any thoughts?
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[08 Mar 2006|06:42pm] |
ahhh.... how is it that sometimes i just feel like total shit, and the next minute i will feel so good? i'm puzzled, and it's only VERY scary, because it makes me think "hey, maybe i am crazy?" but onto other things. or are they?
so today i'm babbling to my mom, an activity which i must say i enjoy but w/in reason, cuse i tend ot go a little overboard and reveal too much- but you knew that. so i'm telling her about how i've been talking to a lot of ppl who i haven't come accross much if at all since sophmore year or w/e, nad how it's odd that after all this time, they just don't seem all bad. really, they seem downright pleasant, but right now everything seems downright pleasant, because i'm currently suspended in a fun little dreamlike state to protect myslef form the enormity of my problems. nice, huh? and think, some ppl pay for pot, or go to church- but i got this shit covered. holy fuck. lol. anyway.
so i'm talking to her about just about friggin everything becasue if words aren't pouring from my brain i can hardly breathe, but you knew that, when the topic of my dad and the money he owes me came up. "you don't hear from him very much lately, do ya?" she says, knowingly, because suc is the pattern he tends to follow- it's probably not unique, i'm sure there are plenty of ppl out there who say they'll do something and hen just sort of avoid you becasue they aren't actually going to do it. i mean fuck, i do that. lol. sort of.
and so i explain to her about hw really,i'm used to it by now, i mean i sort of expected it pretty much. and i go on to say "i mean really, you gotta kinda pity he guy, i mean it's obvious his brain isn't quite what it used to be" and i think my mom was gonna cry, and she said, "that's a vey nice way of putting it, amanda" adn i saw that she was uncomfortable and in panic i tried the i'm-oblivious-cause-really-everything's-cool tactic that i somtimes use when i can tell someone's having a moment i can't share... hmm yea gotta look into that one too lol (who needs therapy? what's therapy?... i mean really ppl pay for that? buy me i book, i got my psych needs covered...)... so i start t go into this "well, duh, i mena how else could i friggin cope if i didnt feel that way about it?" and i don' rememeber how it was resolved, cause ya know i never remember such things, and now my mom's buggin me to find out what i'm doin. sigh lol and i anted to babble about astrology a little, and how i have like 5 charts to do, and how sarah is lik, mad cool. i swear ya'll laibras are siants.... wouldn't it be weird if a libra was reading this? cause i dont know of one who does. lol.
well peace love and all that junk,
wish me luck resisting he urge to call the ppl i love right now, but have no real reason to call,
amanda :)
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