Hahahah.

So.. U was fun.

Kind of weird, being the only one under eighteen, but still fun. I figured out I can keep up with the frat boyzzzzzzzzz pretty well - although I'm not sure if I should be proud of that - and also, I really love that little asian dude that danced to Christina Aguilara. I also figured out that when I start dancing with him, I should probably stop drinking, hahaha.

I wasn't pleased to have to leave at the crack of dawn, (seriously, it was like eight AM) and, well, if I wouldn't have been hungover I probably wouldn't have cared, so, shh. The car ride was kind of awkward, too, also my fault, so, all in all I can't complain, I guess.

Ah well.

Sad.

I spend an ungodly amount of time online.

Think.

So I was outside recently, swinging lazily on our battered swingset out back - because that swingset is my favorite place to dream, so I spend a good bit of time out there - and I was thinking about love and lust and my longing for the first and penchant for the second and whatnot.. but this is about to get put on hold because FUCK.

--------------

I didn't feel like finishing this. It wouldn't accomplish anything.

Ugh.

"Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?"

That is one of my favorite quotes from that book. It wasn't quite as good as the rest of Chuck Palahniuks, but I enjoyed it. And wondered for a very long time about that question. I also decided today that I spend altogether too much time thinking and not nearly enough time doing. It frustrates me though, because it seems like everything I want to do has some hindrance that prevents me from actually getting it done. My painting, for example. It took so long for me to even get started because I didn't have the proper materials to paint with without getting irritated because the qualitly of my work just turns out horrible. But I started a painting yesterday, and it's possible I might like it when I'm finished. I just wish that I could come up with something original. I mean, everyone tells me that I'm so good and it's partially just flattery and all, but they just don't seem to understand when I say that it only feels like art to me when it's CREATED, not copied.

Slghdslgsdg. Did I mention I hate working?

Fuckittttttttttt.

I like sexualized negetives; tonight can officially suck my dick.

By actually having her ask him [this is one of those things where I don't feel like explaining because it just isn't worth it], I just confirmed the fact that I really do know how to read people.

I just wanted to think I was wrong.


And doesn't that just blow.

Monotony.

Bored. Asleep. Stir, shake, repeat?

And sometimes I wonder if these summer days that I've deemed boring aren't boring but just in limbo. Just waiting for a moment to make them come alive.

I'm terrible at finding those moments, I think.

Awesome.

I just realized that I can communicate, if only a little, in other languages. I have an odd [or maybe not so odd, you tell me?] habit of randomly hitting the next button on here to read other people's journals, and I came across the journal of a woman from Colombia, I believe, and I left her a comment in spanish, and I was proud. I only had to check one word on a translation site!

So...

I want to get drunkkkkkkkkkk.

I love being a girl?

Ahh. My Coke and Doritos bag are heavenly now, but next weekend if (whenn, you know it's when) I lose some clothes, I have the feeling I am not going to be pleased, haha. Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to run a little bit extra tomorrow and NOT buy the frosted pretzel for supper at work?

Anyhow.. I almost don't like writing in a blog, unless it's something I feel was written well; I always feel so pathetically self-centered and immature whenever I read my entries after reading anyone else's blog. It just seems to me like adults always have something more important to talk about than their fluctuating waistlines. And I know, I'm not an adult, I still have plenty of time, but I just feel.. petty, I suppose, and there is also this overwhelming urge to delete the word "like" from my vocabulary.. haha. I feel as if my whole life revolves around the banal little details of things that don't matter anyways. And I want what I say to have meaning. I want people to listen to me. I guess I'm just not sure that I have anything to say.

Intro (Drumroll, pleeeeeeeeeease).

So, I needed to start over. I adored both the look and people in and of my old journal, but its presence is known, albeit not frequently checked by too many people. But still. I typically value my privacy, especially in a town this small.. and so full of gossipy girls. This way, I can share all my experiences in their full explicit-ess! Hah. I realized that everything in my life that I ever have to mull over or write about to fully think it over, I never could because there's always the chance that someone would read it that.. well, shouldn't.

Anyways. Next weekend.
Warped Tour? Maybe. I know I'd have fun, though I don't feel like I'm immersed in the music anymore like I used to be. Actually, completely jumped out of the scene pool completely is more like it. But I still love it, and miss it sometimes. Plus.. there's the U and well, you know, right? Right. Just as long as I'm not suddenly stricken with morals.