summertime and the living is easy

Important Question Xanga

I'm told I'm nice.
I'm told I'm pretty.
I'm told I'm fun.
Most of the people who really know me love me.
I'm told lots of good things about myself.

But why is it then that the only people who openly hit on me
are creepy ass black men.
I'm not being racist.
But over the past year the only people who have shown interest in me
Or at least maybe, the only people who I take notice of showing an interest in me
Have been creep ass black men.
Dirty.  Scary.  Single me out.
What the fuck.

I'm not okay with that.

No Mr. 40 year old, can't understand a word you're fucking saying, drunk guy.
You may live in my alley.
I might have talked to you on the way home because you wouldn't shut up and I didn't want you to knife me.
But that does not mean I will hold your hand.
That does not mean you can follow me up my steps when I know you don't live here.
That does not mean you can talk about how you'd like to have sex with me.
That is not okay.
It is 4 o'clock in the fucking morning.
I just want to get home.
That is not okay.
Be jealous of my imaginary boyfriend.
Say how you could take him.
Its not going to happen.
Yes, I am walking fast becaues you scare me.
Look at you!
Listen to yourself!
You'd be scared if you were me too.
And then you scare off the cute boy who I gladly would have sung with.
Who smiled at me, who tried talking to me.
Fuck you!

I think its time to invest in pepper spray.
Or a knife.
Or both.

Why Xanga, why?

My life stresses me out from time to time.  I generally don't deal well.  I don't know what the consensus is on the majority on how well they handle stress.  I sit and sulk inside for a few days, trying to think about nothing, preoccupying my time with sleep and fake realities.  Nothing however can take away from what is real.  This is real.  This situation that I'm sitting in. 

I got a phonecall in the afternoon on Monday, right before I was supposed to be in one of my classes.  The caller was undoubtedly stressed so I skipped class to hear the story because I wouldn't have been able to concentrate otherwise.  The conversation we had led to tears and much discomfort about my position; I suddenly did not want to be here.  At all.  I needed to be there.  I needed to be a tool for fixing this mess of a story.  But I couldn't be.  And I couldn't let anybody know about it.  Well, some secrets I'm no good at keeping.  Some secrets hurt a bit to much to keep all to yourself.  I called back on Tuesday and this time I was met with a powerful punch of confusion.  Happiness, not despair, met me on the other end of the line.  What the hell is this.  Who knows.  The situation seems to be on the steady course to resolution, and a good resolution at that.  Its so hard because how are you supposed to react.  I know I'm being extremely vague, but its because this has a bigger point.  And some stories aren't meant for everybody's ears (or eyes). 

I've become really good at playing things off. 
I've mastered this art which I label numb. 
When a point of conflict arises I quickly have to smear it out.
I can't let anyone know after a certain time that its really eating away at me.
I can't let anyone know that I feel so completely vulnerable.
The smallest thing can set me off. 
But I act like I'm not bothered at all.
I'm not sure about how I feel, having this trait.
Its been modeled into me over the course of many years.
Some people care, others really don't.
To weed them out I put on a facade.
The people who really know you will presumably know that something is amist.
And the people who don't will be none the wiser.

The current flip flop of my life has shown to me what is important.

My family means more than words to me.  I love returning home to them more than I thought I ever would.  I never thought I would cry while leaving there and coming here.  But I have.  There's such warmth there, such understanding.  My mother, if you didn't know, is my best friend.  Despite our contradicting views on organization and its need, she really gets me, more than I ever thought she would.  I couldn't imagine life without her here.  Same thing with my dad.  Even though I'm definitely not as close with him as I am with my mom, even though he's not exactly approving of my recreational choices, he's such a good guy.  His only concern is his family.  Everything that he does (now) is for his family.  We had our shit to plow through without a doubt.  But now we're to such a better place.  My brother?  He's a brat, but he is the most amazing ten year old I have ever met.  He's been through so much already, and despite what some people experience he is so mature, when he needs to be. 

Jordan is the most phenominal person I have ever had in my life.  When I need to talk, the conversation doesn't get flipped.  I can just go, without worry of consequence, without worry of a lack of understanding, or of boredom.  If its important to me, if its essential to me, he lets me go, he lets me ramble, he lets me cry.  I've never felt that comfortable with a single person ever, especially not a male.  We've had our disruptions, our disputes, but we've always come back to this, and each time we come back a little stronger with a little more understanding of each other.  I've never had a friendship like that.  Where no matter what happens there's this force that pulls us back together to the collective whole again.  Nothing is missing.  How lucky am I.

I of course of other friends, other things to mention.  But without these two parts listed above, I am nothing.  I wouldn't be able to function, my world seemingly broken to pieces. 

I'm scared of the future.
I'm so scared of the future.
But the butterflies go away a little when I think of my support system.

Having these two amazing bodies in my life have helped me realize how fortunate I am.  Some people will never know and experience what I know and experience from these people.  And for them I am sorrowful. 

The stress eases away when I know they're there.
My predisposition to not say a word drops when I'm in their presence.
I feel like I am truly myself when I am with them.
I have no worries or concerns.
I am just free to be.

And there I go.
And here I stay.
I am what I am.
I do what I do.

But I could never be who I am,
Without the love and support of those who matter most.
Thank you.

Always.
Forever.

its hard the fight, this feeling in forever.
i really love it.
this feeling that nothing should end, could end, would end
as long as I don't let it.

but there steps reality, right on my parade.
everything does end.
this life.
this moment.
this feeling.
this love.

no.
never this love.
if everything else must go,
my love for these feeling, this sharing, this being,
will always, always, always remain.

throughout our lives that is all we have to take with us.
memories.  people.  trinkets.
bits and pieces.

i want the whole thing.
always.

its just upsetting to know,
this won't last forever.
this can't last forever.

death is the inevitable path for anything and everything.
reincarnation is only available to the most memorable of trinkets,
in which case,
they are hopefully taken in and loved by someone else.
but you never know.
they might be sent to the dump.

we do that with everything.
consider its value.
place it accordingly.

its all about placement.
its always about placement.

different things weigh in different ways.
what's important to you?
hold tight.
hold tight.
try not to let it die.

I underestimated (one word, two words, honestly, i don't care right now) envornmental studies 402.

but basically...
fuck it.
i should have dropped it and enrolled in something else.
i should have.
and now i'm fucked.
unless i blow him away with my last paper.
but i doubt i'll be able to.
why?
because i'm not in media class.
because i "need to be more creative."
because i feel like he's biased against me.
because i'm in over my head.
because i can't analyze how he wants me to.
ehhhh fuck you!!!!

i'm not trying to scapegoat.
i probably could put more effort into this class.
but its hard to focus when you feel like you're drowning.

someone give me a drink.
fast.

this is a disaster.

dear gregg,
i never recieved an assingment sheet.
i followed the assingment as outlined on the syllabus.

if you feel like dying,
you might want to sing.