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| Ciao to Xanga*edit* apparently I don't remember my old password, so here's the new site.
I've decided that after many years of Xanga, I'm giving it up in favor of Blogspot because I love being a Google whore. You can check me out at unsinkabledreams.blogspot.com. Ignore all the old entries; they're from when I had to maintain a blog for my Creative Writing class. Hope to see some of you there. | | |
| Life is changing faster than I could ever expect, and it amazes me every day that not only are we all finally in the "real world" we've been dreaming about, but things will never be so carefree as they were in college. Sure, I have all this free time now, but I have no idea what to do with myself. Occasionally I'll watch a movie or play computer games (how delightfully geeky), as long as I'm not busting my ass at two jobs so I can actually eat. (On second thought, maybe I should've stayed poor...after all I did put on 15 pounds in college.) But all my friends are at least a 5-10 minute walk away, and some of them live in dangerous areas that even a grown man with a six pack wouldn't dare walk around at night. The interviews are finally starting to flow in, and I feel increasingly anxious for having to request so many days off (not with one boss, but with two) and while they haven't complained, the guilt is tugging at my brain. I don't like feeling like a flake, and I know that missing work is a necessary evil for finding a job, but I can't help but feel that I'm placing these other jobs second to myself, and being incredibly selfish for wanting MY LIFE to work out perfectly and a "well they'll just have to deal" attitude. Now the question is...will my idealistic wishes for my dream job actually pan out to what I want them to be? I'm not asking for much, just a job that pays enough so I'm self-sufficient and makes me proud of what I'm doing. My requirements for a job are much less stringent than the ones I desire in a man, so hopefully this 15 hour per week dedication to finding one won't prove quite as fruitless. Not that I really need a man right now...with the 65-70 hours a week I'm working, I'll be lucky if my date with the Sandman lasts long enough for that sweet goodnight kiss.
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| Yes, I WOULD like some cheese with my whineFirst off, please ignore the fact that I'm using "they/their" and pretend it's in the singular form despite its grammatical incorrectness.
There is a person in my life whom we'll call P. P was generally a good friend to me, and our personalities just clicked really well. There was always something to talk about, P was a fun person to be around, etc. Lately, however, I've been pissed at P's behavior. Not only has P seemed to have lost their sense of class, but they trivialize my concerns, insult my intelligence/character/social abilities, and then proceed to break all contact with me (or so it would seem). And I know it's just me, because P has responded to others' messages. P has also made some bad decisions in the last few semesters, and the consequences of these decisions continue to haunt me and cause me a misery that is on a par with someone whose ass just got dumped.
Long story short, I am fucking sick of P and I don't care how many times they've been there for me or made me feel better because the number of times they've pissed me off/hurt and then disregarded my feelings outweighs the good like an African elephant against a Planaria. I'm sick of being taken for granted because I have done so much for P and rarely felt appreciated (normally, I wouldn't care - I do nice things because it makes me feel good - but if P is going to treat me like shit, fuck if I'm going to stick out my neck for them). My friendship is worth more than this, so if you please, dear P, just fuck off.
[NB: I realize that P does not read this. All I wanted to was to be able to vent to my dear Xanga community because I have needed to get this off my chest for a long time.]
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| As usual, this post will just be a random smattering of thoughts since I hate transitions and since school is over, I hope to never write one again. Until I have to.
Things are looking up in the Have. Still relatively friendless, but at least my roommates have come back and I have a part-time job at an upscale sushi place (woohoo!!!) - and anyone who knows me knows that I will be happy as a clam there.
I saw this on facebook, under the fortune cookies application wall: "What do you do when your in love with your friend but, there miles away?" I'll tell you what you do. Take some fucking grammar/spelling lessons so the guy won't be repulsed by your lack of education.
Going back to Ithaca for the weekend to do laundry (long story), pick up the last of my things, and see everyone one last time before I begin my servitude here at Yale.
Taking my first Metro North train into NY on Tuesday to rampage the city with Seth, see Iris for an exchange of goods (crap...I just realized that this means I have to cart everything around the whole day), and have dinner w/my awesome little, Pauli (and Seth and Ronen). I'm uber excited.
I HATE that I've started to think the word "uber" in my thoughts. I swore I'd never use it because it makes me think of anime-obsessed yellow-fever nerds.
If anyone is in the New Haven area this summer...come visit! We have futons! (And I have a queen size bed if you're extra special )
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| Now I know why singleness is so much more salient, depressing and crap-tastic in the real world.
I feel incredibly alone.
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