epiphanies

i have had a "thing" for a guy for a little over a year now. It was just a small thing until about six months ago when my feelings really intensified. Unfortunately for me, i was what both myself and society would consider not good enough for him. He was horribly good looking, had graduated from a fabulous college, had a career, and his own place. i was working at a coffee shop and hadn't been to school in a year, and was going nowhere all too fast. So i had made the decision to make myself better so that he would be able to fall in love with me. i went back to school, and now i'm going to go to Cal State East Bay. There i'm going to pursue my long held dream of studying archaeology. i stopped partying almost completely. Gone were the thursday night drinking/dancing fests filled with cheap vodka and drunk dials. i decided to get focused on my life, and all for a guy. Because i felt that he could never love me if i weren't worth more to society. It wasn't until this past week that i had a miraculous epiphany and realized that what i was doing was utterly ridiculous. i was making the same mistake that just about every person, man or woman, makes every damn day. Trying to change yourself for someone else. It was just a cool thing that i was changing for the better, but nevertheless i was changing myself. It made me feel completely ridiculous that i would waste so much effort into making myself likeable through fixing my shortcomings. It was so mind blowing to be sitting there across from him, talking to him and and to be realizing all of this. Immediately i started to feel differently towards him. i felt like a huge weight was off of my shoulders, i didn't have to try and be good enough for him anymore. i could do things my own way, and just be good enough for myself. i'm sure he thinks that in my moving to Washington that i am making a mistake and lapsing back into my selfish, fun-loving ways. But to some degree i don't care about what he thinks anymore. He's still my friend, and for that much i will care about what he thinks, but nearly the same way as i used to. i never told him how i felt, and as i mentioned in the blog a few posts down i am really quite happy i didn't. i think i'll be in a much better place now that i have realized all of these things and can move on.

When did George Michaels get old? Tragic.

david cook, i love you.

words could not express how happy i was last night when that little peter pan excuse of a boy lost. BUAHAHAH!!! yes yes!



simply fantastic.

alright, i'm off to go and partake in the "So You Think You Can Dance" party.

You're so new.

So i like to think that i have a way with words. Not that i'm necessarily the best that i know. But i feel as though i can hold my own. Therefore, i feel like i was also cursed with the incapability of being able to convey what i think and feel, verbally. For some reason i have always been terrified of telling people how i really feel or what i actually want. Whether i was a four year old in Santa's lap or a twelve year old ordering food in a restaurant or an awkward 16 year old trying to tell my almost boyfriend that i wanted to kiss him. I've always had this horrible attribute of being "shy". i use the term "shy" very loosely in that i myself am not a very shy person in most situations. In a room around a bunch of strangers i tend to be pretty comfortable. i've had a lot of people go as far as to tell me that *as queer as it is* i'm the life of the party. i like to think that i am, who wouldn't? i'm clearly getting off track. Basically, i never ever tell people what i really feel, unless i'm asked. i'm shy in that i will not ever say what i have going on in my head, because 100% of the time i am terrified of the truth. i always say that most of the time i would prefer ignorance. it's so much easier to deal with in the long run of things. i hate rejection. Absolutley abhor it. i would much more like to just pretend that things are different. i know this is a horribly terrible thing. But what can i say? i LOVE living in a fantasy world. i'm sure that'll put me in a really shitty place in the future. but i'm all about short-term gratification. One of those horrible attributes that i am quite sure will never change in me. So after going on a horrible tangent the main point of this blog is to complain about myself. i am a scared person. More so than your typical human. Scared of change. Scared of rejection. Scared of denial. Scared of failure. Just plain terrifed of things that will hurt me. i know that it's a fact of life to be scared of such things, and that growing up is becoming not so scared of these things. But i genuinely feel that these fears makes up a huge part of me, even if that is a negative part of moi. They have ruined a lot of wonderful things that i have had, and things that i have almost had. i know that naturally i will grow out of some of them, i already have. i am WAY better than i used to be. Ask any one of my high school friends of what a huge pussy i was. Anyway, the point of all of this is that my fears have rendered me incapable of telling someone how i have felt for the past hmm...year or so..and i have just recently *yesterday* realized that it was a good thing. Because if i would have had the gonads to tell said person how i have felt then i would have no clue as to where i would be right now *for better or for worse..ahaha*. Therefore i wouldn't have had the sheer gonads to say "yes" to what i am about to say yes to. --- i'm moving. at the very end of june. i am moving to washington. Cannot fucking wait. i think it will be one of the most positive things that i have done for myself in a very long time. and guess what...i am not in slightest bit scared about it at all.

ferosh.

So a secret ambition of mine has always been that i could be an MMA fighter...Check out this clip....i promise....you will love me for it.

Death! DEATH!

So, i strike yet again. i honestly hate being me sometimes. i am such a fool. A FOOL! Allow me to explain.

i have been taking an online environmental science class this semester. i've been doing pretty good in the class. i have my final tomorrow *yes a final on a saturday morning..how fucked up is that?*...i also had a huge presentation and nine page paper that i did this week, so needless to say this week was kind of a blur. So after a night of drinking in Vacaville and getting to bed at hmm...around 6:30 in the morning....i slither to work at Armijo. i help out some of the kids with a powerpoint of theirs and get home at around 5 o'clock. It was at this time i realized that yes, it is Friday and yes...i have a final tomorrow..and no....i don't have a scantron yet. i call the bookstore..they close at 3 on fridays...no, they are not open on weekends...and yes, i am completely fucked. My sister had a scantron...the wrong one. i e-mailed my teacher and a classmate of mine promising him my first born child if he had an extra scantron. No one has answered yet. i called every person that ever went to college for even a day to ask them if they had any scantrons....nope.

why am i such a freakin' mess?

Attention: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows spoiler present - so NO bitching.

............




i just got done watching "P.S. I Love You". It was one of the best movies i have seen in a very, very long time. Total chick flick, of course. i cried about six times. i caught myself sobbing during a couple of parts and wailing during another. It didn't register that i was crying like a four year old in Target until Gracie placed her head in my lap, clearly worried about my well being. Ugh. i'm still trying to recuperate. --- i had a creative writing teacher who explained that the difference between good and bad fiction, is that good fiction allows the viewer to suspend all form of disbelief and succumb to the story. i think i am a person who is too apt to suspend disbelief. i've always had a ridiculously vivid imagination, still do. i try to give everything i have to the power of daydreams. Daydreaming is one of my most favorite past time activities. i read books all the time, never am i not reading a book for leisure. Typically they're novels of the historical fiction type and based on women. Mary Queen of Scots, Anne Boleyn, Marie Antoinette, Cleopatra, DaVinci's muse, Vermeer's muse, Frida Kahlo, and Geisha. The list could go on for years. i get so into these books, because i can't help it. i don't know what that says about me.. probably that i'm a hopeless romantic and daydreamer, and still attain the optimistic outlook of someone who has never properly had their heart broken. Regardless of the judgements which may or may not be made about my being able to give everything i have into a story, i don't mind it too much. Except when Dobby died. i hadn't cried that hard in at least 15 years..all over a mythical creature in a Harry Potter book. i paced my room wailing and crying for a good ten minutes and felt all over, entirely ridiculous. i still do. As a matter of fact i cannot believe i posted that piece of information in a world wide web. i can only hope that not too many people will come to find out this tid bit. i feel as though it could be used against me at a later date.

dry humping the leg of the american dream

college. college. college.




so not okay right now. my brain is JUST bout fried. thinking about scenarios. "well if i do this, then i have to get this and that done by this date"..and "well if i put this off until next semester then i should probably get around to this.." so on and so forth. i have to go and get paperwork from places tomorrow. i have been putting this off for a loooong ass time now.


-------is it terrible if i just decided to watch this video and instantly felt about 20 times happier?



good god i love butters. he knows how to make a girl feel good.


At Armijo we're having a final fundraiser. we're having a hypnotist show. we're selling tickets, five bucks for a regular ticket and ten bucks for a dinner ticket. Well, i'm sick of getting yelled at cause my kids always sell the least amount of tickets so i came up with an incentive. i told them that each and every kid has to sell at least two tickets and the person who sells the most wins an all expense paid date with yours truly. That's right, i'm whoring myself out to make the organization money. i was quite surprised. One kid ran off and bought out ten tickets after hearing the news of a hot date with me. Another one, who ironically enough reminds me of my high school boyfriend was determined to win the date. He ran off asking every adult in attendence if they were interested in buying a ticket. He's employing the help of his sister. i'm interested in the results of the contest. i promised formal wear to said date. *lol* i have to have the winner fill out a permission slip. Too fucking funny.


i haven't seen julien *the resident chihuahua of the house* in two days. i didn't realize how much the little feller was growing on me. But as i was driving home from Suisun i couldn't help but feel happy that i would get to spoon with the six pound puppy. He's been sitting in my lap trying to make out with me for the past half an hour. How endearing.


So i got offered a trip to Jordan for two months this summer. All i have to pay for is my plane ticket to and from Jordan (with a week stop off in Rome). i'm still on the fence about going. i need to buy a new car and take a couple of classes this summer. But please believe that every ounce of my being wants to throw all common sense out the god damn window and go float around in the Dead Sea. Visit Egypt (in July, meaning 130 degree weather), stop off in Jerusalem, eat pizza under the Colliseum..all the while trying not to get murdered by infidels or get random buttflu from strange foods. We'll see.

November 21, 1789..i will rue the day!

i have a crush. a full blown crush. i haven't had one like this in at least a decade. yes, i am indeed talking about the sort of crush you have on a celebrity. the kind where you post pictures of them all over your walls, the kind where you go and see ALL of their movies...and highly anticipate the ones they have coming out soon.

Christian Bale, is perfection.

Sooo....for my environmental science class i had to do an environmental action project, where i had to undertake an action that benefited my own personal environment. i chose to establish a recycling sytem at armijo..where i teach. i was supposed to do this for nine to ten weeks. Unfortunately, this was right when my colleague was placed on administrative leave, therefore leaving me for the most part, alone with teaching almost thirty students two five minute pieces in a highly competitive circuit. Needless to say those two months were what i would refer to as hellish. Soo...i never got around to doing this incredibly geigh project. So now it's May..and i'm supposed to have a powerpoint presentation with nine weeks of research. First off, call me old school but, i don't even know how the hell to use powerpoint. So i quickly remembered that i have around 100 students who are all in IB classes. IB stands for International Baccalaureate...and it's basically a step higher than advanced placement. Meaning...these kids are fucking geniuses. They waltz around doing calculus like it was rudimentary addition. They have an extensive vocabulary. They can give you the exact dates and events that occurred in China during the Ming Dynasty. To say it again. These kids are fucking geniuses. So i enlisted the help of one of my freshman, yes..a 15 year old freshman to help a sister out. i paid her 20 bucks to make me a powerpoint presentation *shrug* .. my mother always told me.."in this world it's not what you know, but who you know".

Ain't that the truth, mama.

In other news....Hilary won Indiana. i was stoked. But overall, it ain't lookin good. God damn North Carolina.

mormat.

So i recieved some VERY disturbing news today. i am in fact related to joseph smith. yes THE joseph smith, the fucking weirdo who started up mormonism. More so, i am related to his cousin...but when you get down to it there is a small part of me related to the big man himself. i called my dad today to ask him if i was irish *the answer is, no*..but this of course sparked a full blown conversation, all on my father's behalf -> i was more into listening. So on my dad's side of whiteness, there are three last names that i am aware of. Apperson, Wood, and Smith. Now the Smith side is from Missouri and all of those states somewhere in the middle. i guess my dad was at a family function a month ago and they brought up good 'ol George A. Smith, cousin to Joseph Smith and one of the founders of mormonism. Turns out he was my dad's grandma's grandfather. Gross. i'm realted to someone who had a hand in building one of this nation's biggest cult-like religions. To make matters slightly more creepy. George A. Smith's birthday is June 26th...and so is mine. In case you don't believe me... check it out.

fuckin' your world up.

So when i was like 10 i had an infatuation with reading "Goosebumps" books, like any other normal kid that age in the nineties. My particular favorites of his were the ones where you got to pick whether or not you wanted to go through door #1 (page 64) or through door # 2 (page 21). You of course make the logical decision. Weighing the pros and cons or each door and what they have to offer.

"Well, this one is glowing green...kind of ominous...the other one is making a strange buzzing noise....god know what that buzzing could be...but glowing green lights!!!! No way man!"

Clearly you go with door #2, the one that's buzzing...only to be attacked by a swarm of giant hornets!! You of course die and have to start all over again. Dammit.

The point of all this blabber is because i recently met someone who looked like a creature i couldn't quite place. All too familiar and scary all at once, made me quite uncomfortable to say the least. Try as i might, i couldn't place what creature this person so closely resembled. Until today.

A Komodo Dragon.

Buh! i have a very distinct fear of the illusive Komodo Dragon, a foul beast who can grow up to eight feet long, can eat humans, and hails from the island of Komodo in Indonesia. They are fucking terrifying to even look at.

Don't know what they and/or don't believe me? Check out this brief clip. Here's a note: make sure your speakers are turned on. The music quite makes the clip all that much more menacing.

See what i mean? These fuckers are terrible. TERRIBLE!

i'm sure you're wondering as to how i became so scared of a creature that lives across the world. Well my friend, R.L. Stine taught me what a Komodo fucking Dragon was. i read one of his "Give Yourself Goosebumps" novels *yes, R.L. Stine writes fucking NOVELS* i believe it was the one called "Escape from the Carnival of Horrors". In this novel he had the option of going through some room and you end up in some kind of desert looking cage and see nothing. You hear nothing. You think "sweet, i'm safe" until you feel eyes upon you. Then a very large lizard things comes tearing ass from out of nowhere, you run...but not fast enough. you are eaten by a Komodo Dragon, and it's all your fault for choosing to go to page 44.

Fuck you Komodo Dragons. i will hunt you, until there are none left.

by far 1:15 is the best.

for the 14 year old boy in us all...

Indiana better work it out..

Hillary won in Pennsylvania today...with some comfy margins. Thank god. i was reading up about it via Yahoo News...this particularly tickled my fancy.

"She showed her blue-collar bona fides one night by knocking down a shot of whiskey, then taking a mug of beer as a chaser. Obama went bowling in his attempt to win over working-class voters."



..and you people wonder why Hillary is my numero uno biotch.

do it, ese.

If you're a chick who likes delicate, pretty songs by women who have great singing skills then--


Download anything by Sia. Particularly her CD "Some People Have Real Problems"...or her song "Breathe Me"....youtube her or something.

You're welcome.

Mortality

Saying that i got drunk this weekend would be a huge understatement. i drank booze like it was going out of style. i was what jenelle referred to as a "festival whore". i can't help it if it was Earth Day on Saturday and the 707 wanted to celebrate that fact in a big way..i was right there with the 707 screaming at the top of our lungs

"Planet mother-fuckin' Earth...THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!!"

i had some of the greatest pictures imagineable from this weekend. Unfortunately, my drunk friend accidentally deleted every single picture saved on my camera *around 200*..about 50 of those pictures were ones i was going to save onto my computer, they were from my dad's vacation to Mexico. He is going to kill me. Therefore i will have to recall the events of Saturday via memory.

So Friday night Audra and i found ourselves together and bored...never-ever-a good combination. We ended up at the Marin Headlands.

It is easily one of the most beautiful places in California to be. The foghorns. The lighthouse. The waves crashing along the cliffs that you walk along. We took some friends up there that had never been. It's a truly wonderful thing to experience with people who have never seen it before. The next day i had to be up at seven ante-meridiem. It was pretty damn painful. i was volunteering at the Fairfield Earth Day Festival. Now before you start snickering at the fact that i have officially become a granola-eating weirdo, understand that i did it to get extra credit for my enviromental science class. i got a sweet t-shirt made up of recycled materials that reads "earth day every day" over a picture of a sun, a wave, and a leaf. i'm totally wearing it to my lab class on wednesday along with a couple of my other classmates. yes we're dorks..and no, we don't care. After that i jammed over to Vacaville to celebrate Earth Day with the "insert name for people living alternative lifestyles here". Yes, i am speaking of the Medieval Day Festival. Foolishly i drank too much beer and sipped on a friends wine. Made my way back to my resident lesbian friend's house and experienced much merriment. Complete with tinkering away on a drum set, electric and acoustic guitars, many shots of tequila, puking in kitchen sinks, dancing to "Stray Cats", smashing of glass bottles, penises being flashed...you know..the usual shit that goes down at friendly gatherings. i spent all day Sunday trying desperately to recuperate. You know that conversation your body has with your brain when it tries to convince it that vomiting is a great idea? But your brain resists this novel idea, thinking about the retching and feeling of heaving..."naw way man, that would just suck way too damn much!" So you settle for a nap. Wake from the nap and wander around in a haze trying to figure out if you feel better....you sit on the couch and say hi to whoever is plopped on the recliner next to you watching "Cops" re-runs...then..you get a hot flash and hear "womp womp womp!" beating in your head and your stomach does circles....dammit. You are not in fact, better. You vow never to drink ever again. You lay down and spoon with a pillow, make pacts with a god you don't fully believe in...please. please. please....make it stop. You think about drinking a beer or two.."hair of the dog" you think.. Ugh. It simply hurts everything all the way down to your soul to even slightly entertain the possibility of drinking anything containing a hint of alcohol. Your friend laughs at you as she sips a beer, "Hah! and you call yourself a drinker!"

Shame.

Dammit. You take everything that comes your way. You deserve it. Well, your aching body feels as though you deserve it all. You agree with their proclamations of lameness. Then you pass out on the couch.

Ahh...hangovers. The reminder to all of us that we are in fact, mortal.

para su informacion..

i am obsessed with postsecret.com..i have been for years and years...here are some notables.

Nothing exceeds like excess.

i watched "Scarface" today. Don't hate me but it was the first time i ever did so see it. It was of course a hella good movie...i was hoping he was gonna screw his sister though..i think it would have taken the movie to a whole'nother realm. Meh...

i just thought this was too damn funny...

the art of creation.

One of the coolest things about myself that i feel no one knows about is the keen knowledge i have about building things. i was blessed by being the daughter of a carpenter (that sounded all too religious....would you believe me if i told you that my father has a freakish likeness to that of jesus as well??). i was driving nails into walls by the tender age of six and roofing houses by 12. i was comfortable working around power saws and generators since as long as i can remember; and had my own tool belt since i popped out of the womb. i know the difference between phillips and flat heads (and can make either work). i love the smell and feel of dirt on my hands, and know that you can't pour concrete if there is even a .8% chance of rain. i can use a level and then snap a chalk line onto the perfectly straight line that i drew out in my brain. i used to do my homework with carpenters pencils, and still love the way the lead feels on wood. i know how to drill in a screw without stripping it. i feel completely comfortable amongst the sharpest of blades that are buzzing faster than i could ever imagine. It is honestly one of my most favorite things about myself. Someday when i get married i hope to receive for christmas (or valentines day, or an anniversary, or my birthday...) a power drill. They are by far my most favorite of tools. My father taught me all of these things and i feel genuinely special because of it. He used to drive my sister and i around towns and point to things and squeal in delight

"look babies!! your daddy built that! that will be there for a very long time...long after i'm dead."

my sister and i would roll our eyes in annoyance, we were probably hungry and on our way to taco bell or the mall. i think about these moments now and experience a tremendous feeling of sorrow. i cannot believe that i would not find myself in a sense of awe that my father built something that people use everyday and will long outlive him and me. The art of creation is something that not many people possess. i doubt i will ever find the right time to tell my father this...but i wish i could. i cannot remember the last time he showed me something he built. i want him to.


Maybe i'll ask him to take me for a drive one day soon, to show me something he has made with his own hands. Something that will be there long after he is gone.

told you he looked like jesus.

i'm such a schmuck

So i finally wrote the note that i'm going to give the kids on Saturday...it still needs some tweaking...this is my first draft. i totally cried *just once* while writing it..MEH!!


To all "A" and "B" guard members,


In regards to today's championships performance...

Understand that those few fleeting minutes are yours and yours alone to keep. No one will ever be able to take them away from you. You will remember them for the rest of your lives. It is something truly special, and something that is to be held seperate from everything else in this world. Something to be awed and inspired by. The feelings that you will experience in this activity are unlike anything. What you are doing when you step on that floor is creating art. Beautiful, thought provoking art. It moves people. It makes them want to be a part of something this special somewhere in their own lives. Words cannot describe how proud of each and every one of you we all are. When you step out on the floor today, give yourselves a second to breathe in the moment that you are in. Close your eyes, breathe in all the way down to your toes and listen to the sounds you hear. Take in the smells, the temperature, everything that can possibly be realized. Do this to create a place in your brain that you can go back to someday. You owe that to yourselves. To be able to go back to that moment in time. You need this because you must know that you will never be there ever again. This is not something to be sad about, it it moreso something to find beautiful. The poetic nature of finality is funny like that. You must never in your lives be sad about it, only happy that you had the opportunity to be a part of something that is bigger than you. We love you all, know this...and never doubt it. You are special and worth so much. Have no regrets after today. Go out there and leave everything you have on the floor, it's where it belongs.

Look at the sky, it's the colour of love.

So i'm currently drinking a glass of cabernet sauvignon and listening to Sade. Complete and total bliss. i'm currently going through withdrawals...and i'm not sure what of. There is something missing right now. A missing piece. A feeling that isn't here. i don't know if it's a person, thing, or event; but i feel unfufilled right now. Something to ponder i suppose.

i watched a movie two days ago...it was a bad film to view in the state that i was in. Let's just say that it hit a little too close to home. It's called "The Science of Sleep" and it stars the beautiful Gael Garcia Bernal, who Jenelle got me hooked on something fierce. He is brilliant in the movie as Stephane..here is a clip of one of his dream sequences.

"Coffee, at ten o'clock at night?!" - Jordan

Bombed my math exam. Got a "D" ...












F
















U












C












K












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i made myself a GIGANTIC cup of coffee because i was totally fried. it didn't help. wonderful.



























i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.
i hate being me.i hate being me.i hate being me.


!!!!!!!!!!





i'm going to go and wallow in my self pity. even though i deserve no pity, being that i yet again brought this upon myself. dammit dammit dammit!! now i'm wired from the coffee, maybe i'll write some new exercises for army-joe. Besh.