Friday, April 8, 2011

Devastation in 30 words or Less.

It's good to know now that all my adolescent angst was just part of a phase.

A horrible, terrible phase for my poor parents. (I'm still sorry mom&dad).

A phase that played muse for some very powerful diary entries.

1/15/03
"I HATE DAD! I'm grounded. I want to slap him. Flick him off while yelling numerous cuss words....I look DISGUSTING right now. Oh well, that's life. Time to sleep. It's only 7:30. Bye."

1/27/03

"Life sucks. I've hit rock bottom. I'll explain later when I trust my parents not to read this. Maybe moving to Florida would be good."

5/11/03
"Ok so some news. I'm moving to Florida! THIS SUCKS! I'm pissed. I'm gonna miss this. I love NC. Boring Hendo is MY HOME! Lately all my sophomore friends having sleep-overs (co-ed) and they're SO MUCH FUN! And I have to move. This sucks. No more HOT baseball team. No great friends. No West. No country roads. This SUCKS! Love ya. Bye."


Friday, March 25, 2011

XANGA RE-DISCOVERED



Dang, you fierce lil model- with your $5 aviators and freshly cut curtain-of-sorrow bangs.
Pout those bee-stung lips, girlll.

So it's still existent. My Xanga. My online diary. You'd think you'd find virtual "entries" that are not QUITE as ridiculous/lame/emo/dramatic as those found in a real diary.

Au contraire! MY diary still strongly represented each of those adjectives. Not only was it a place to vent, but also a place to receive sincerely helpful advice (?) from my ever-so-insightful teenage friends.

Let's re-visit me at 14...

A lil Background: I was a freshman. My brother was a senior.
I had never had a beer, a boyfriend, or a kiss.
(Mind you, I was definitely boy-crazy)

Sept. 2002

"There's Jim Beam sitting on the counter upstairs.

It looks so welcoming, its like a cup isn't even needed to enjoy it. I'm afraid with all the medicine I'm taking, that would be my breaking point. It's kentucky straight bourbon whiskey. I usually don't just want things like this. My allergies are going to my head. I should sleep. I took the tests today. I don't want grades back...maybe my teacher will lose them.

My only highlight of the day was volleyball. I didn't even feel sick while I was playing it. And now I'm here, looking to Jim Beam for my release from this continuous pain. I hate it. My eyes are twitching because the most I ever sleep is 6 hours. When weekends come I also seem to feel as if it will be the time to sleep, but when its a weekend, I'm not going to give up social things for sleep. Everythings so frustrating, so confusing.

This sickness has taking something away from me. I don't know, I'm just not myself. My friend IMed me and said "I miss you." That makes me wonder how much I've changed. Although, I might not have changed. I could be overanalysing...Maybe I'm just different for the time being because I have no energy. I can barely smile anymore. I need to get better. Nothing's been to great lately. Not just the stuff relating to sickness. I don't wanna go into personal things on here because I'm one of those people who keep there emotions in, (CLEARLY) even though it always screws me over, in every situation. Avril Lavigne's song (Things I'll Never Say) partially says what I mean-

"It don't do me any good, it's just a waste of time, what use is it to you, what's on my mind, if it ain't coming out, were not going anywhere, so why can't I just tell you that I care, I'm feeling nervous, trying to be so perfect, cause I know you're worth it..."

Dang, this is long, and I have homework. Teacher's suck. Goodnight forever."

Holy Crap.

I have nothing to say.

What Would Avril Say?

She always had the words.








Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Apparently, I intended to return to this Facebook Waste-of-Time Post & complete it.

Saved on April 17, 2009

25 Random things, facts, habits, or goals about me!

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

1. I love FSU, but I would also love to make love to Tim Tebow.
Julia, Deirdre, this was before you helped shape me into a better Seminole. Please continue to love me, I was young, naive....and kind've an idiot.

2. I've moved 14 times, (even though neither of my parents are in the military). One of my favorite feelings is waking up on a sleeping bag in a new, empty bedroom with the sunlight shining in and the windows open.
2 more moves under my belt now. After moving without the parents, I now know that one of my least favorite things is the moving process. Especially before A/C is on in the new house, which has 2 flights of stairs. And a mag light that your crazy-klepto-roommate stole from a cop falls on your wrist within the first 10 minutes of packing. Ugh.

3. When I was 13 I drove my dogs around in my mom's van on our property. I scraped the entire right side of it on our fence. That afternoon, I asked her who she hit.
I was distracted by N*Sync at max volume (my dogs loved that sexy boy band). Mom called me on my BS so fast. Grounded.

4. I love cooking for people and waiting to see if they like it. But if they don't, I hate them. (just for a minute though).
I can honestly say that I had cooked about 1 successful meal at that time, and it was probably the day before I filled out these questions. My "hate" moments followed my creation of tacos (without draining the meat) and chicken (seasoned with seafood salt, which we found out after the first bite-I swear, the seasoning shaker made it seem appealing). I've gotten a bit more attentive & patient lately in the kitchen. There's been improvement.

5. I love being single, and living with a guy friend makes it that much more fun. Aside from missing out on the whole "doing it" thing, I get all the other perks without any petty fights that I see many couples going through.
Well, I apologize for this..

6. I love dancing, wrestling, slip-n-sliding, partying, or pretty much doing anything in the rain as long as I'm with friends. (e.g. Florida/Florida State).
Fact.

7. I'm annoying myself with all the "loves" in my answers. Let's see, I hate...when people judge others based on clothes, appearance, or any other pretense. Awesome people come in all different packages.
Fact.

8. Whenever I go on a date, I look to see if the boy left 20%. If he didn't (presuming the service was pretty good), then I'm over it.
Literally just happened. He was nice too. Such a shame.

9. I wish everyone would do two things: be a server and volunteer with people with disabilities (at least for a few months).
And I'm sure there are things I should do as well. But I stand by this statement.

10. Most assume speech-language pathology either means I'm going to work with lisps, stuttering, or deaf people. I can work in any population (pediatric to geriatric), in several settings (schools, private practices, hospitals, etc.), and specialize in tons of different areas (congenital, acquired, developmental disorders, dysphagia, aphasia, TBI, dementia, etc..) On the other hand, I get really excited when people actually know all this, it's almost flattering in a weird way.
Ooo, fiesty there young buck. Considering I was still in undergrad, I probably wasn't even that certain as to what the hell SLPs really did.

11. Anytime a kid tells me a sad story about their home life, I want to adopt them, or just take them to the park and buy them candy every day.
A park with candy? Way to sound creepy, kace. Should've stuck with adoption.

12. I want a boy first, then a girl that's 3 years younger.
I mean, it'd still be cool.

13. That's how Eddie and I are, and I don't think I could ask for anything better. Even the years when he would punch me if mom wasn't looking, or tie my to a chair& leave me in my room when no one was home, or lick all the pizza so I couldn't have any...were awesome.
Gotta love big brothers. He's literally the best.

14. In 8th grade eddie gave me a hug after a trip and when my parents turned, he slammed me against the wall. I punched him and tore ligments in my arm and wound up in the hospital. I couldn't play sports for 6 months.
Ok, to clarify, he's moreso the best brother nowww.

15. I don't want to be married til I'm at least 27.
It's always smart to set a timeline for life long commitments. And goals for the sex of your future children and their age difference. Reasonable and realistic, I'd say.

16. My ex-boyfriend and I broke up once for a month. We then started dating again. A year later I found out he had been married...for a year...hahha. (It wasn't funny when I found out).
This is definitely facebook appropriate.

17.I LOVE being a camp counselor each summer in Pennsylvannia. I especially like when friends send me letters, and I don't even mind when they tell me how many drunk times I've missed.
If I could talk to myself then, I'd probably tell me- "tone it down on the drunk talk, your pictures already say too much."

18.

19.
20.

21.
22.
23.

24.
25.

This would be one of those posts that would have had my parents (a.k.a., my biggest facebook stalkers) calling me to tell me to remove this post for future jobs asap. I was just a smart little college girl- allll day, errry day.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Bus Note

I spent 2 summers as a camp counselors in the Poconos, which I originally thought was pronounced poCOnos until my parents got a good laugh out of my request to travel to that non-existent mountain range.

Farewells at camp included "bus notes", mostly to encourage the crying of every girl on every departing greyhound who was being torn from the woods to return to the Upper East Side (or somewhere comparable). This is the rough draft of one of my bus notes to a fellow camp counselor.

The receiv-ee of this classy lil note reminds me slightly of Janeane Garofalo but a bit bubblier and substantially less-socially appropriate. She had been extremely sick for the week prior to departure.

Bus Note:

B.G.,
As you waste away (on the toilet), I've grown progressively (in the stomach region). Sometimes I'm jealous of your diarrhea sessions, but I'm even more upset that you feel so shitty. I wish when I saw you yesterday as I was meandering around the social, you didn't look like death. Although, I was happy to find you sitting alone in a canoe.

I f'in hate when pens run out of ink. Mother of god.

Moving on- I'm coming to visit you because you're up there on my favorite people list. Plus, Boston smells nice. And my future husband is there. Diary insert-> "I need a strong, athletic, but still creative man who's tall & handsome. I'll find him someday."

Anyways, while I'm gone back to Florida, think of me when:
a.your pubes take over your thighs [normal B.G. circumstance]
b.you pull off dirty toenails that are worth eating for $100 [re-curring bet made w/ B.G. by campers due to her raging nail-growth]
c. you're attracted to underage boys [normal for me]
d. when you hear "summer lovin" in duet form [normal for me- with underage boys]
I'll miss your wit and lack of inhibition.

I don't like when pens leak, shit. Now you can't read anything. Ah, hell-
Have a great year.
-me

*underage boys- any counselors at the boys camp who were younger than me; preferably from England; at least 18 years of age.

I'm not mad about the pen smudges anymore. Otherwise, there'd be no rough draft.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Stop flying time.

Before you're entirely confused, just know that there is no order to these posts. I have a tangential mind, and so I will have a tangential blog. Don't try to make sense of it.


I have this diary for camp. Goals at camp: Get in shape! Laugh! Teach! Meet great people!

Later, I will come back and hopefully check each off. I only have 4 1/2 years until college ends (including my master's program). I'm already depressed. Is that weird? Not really cause soon I'll be re-reading this thinking, "Jeeze, time flies!"

Stop flying time. I'm nervous.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Let's begin in the middle.

You're obviously bored and so I welcome you to my first diary excerpt.

I can ask you not to judge, but I'd only be kidding myself. Just take it for what it's worth. I do this for the kidz. Read on fool.

(Names changed...for my own dignity)

12:22 a.m
..... So I end up here, in this state of unrest with nothing to do, as I am at my parent's new house (with no friends).

Which brings me to my next dilemma.

Calling the ex. Jay B.- the 1st boyfriend (and last). He's still in love w/ me and we claim distance broke us up b/c what was once a perfect companionship turned into an insecure wreck, but all the negatives pushed me out of love.

2 negatives become a positive,
but 2 months of negatives become a splinter, a nag, a headache,
an anchor back into singlehood...

That, as well, is my problem. So I call. Or I don't. But in a result I get ignored (which brings anger) or talked to (which brings Jay to believe I still want him---"like that").

I'm just going through the break-up post-pardon depression- I know that makes no sense, but I wrote post, and if you go back and read up until that point you'll see I really had no logical way of ending that sentence. Intermission.


You have officially wasted 3 minutes of your life on my emo-tastic blog.


Hello Virtual World. Welcome to my Past.

"I do not keep a diary. Never have. To write a diary every day is like returning to one's own vomit."

-J. Enoch Powell

I've held on to several volumes of vomit. Enjoy.