Annoyance

Some annoying relatives just stopped by.

And by “just” I mean, like, 5 mintues ago.

I am quite pissed off now. Simply because they pulled up milliseconds before my mother and I were heading out the door to go down to the beach and swim.

See, I crave swimming. I haven’t gone in, maybe, 5 days and it pains me. Why? Well, simply because I am fat. Fat fat fat fat fat. And when I go down to the beach I don’t lounge around the shore, slathered in sunscreen, begging to become bacon (like some of the bleached blonde tourists here), nor do I gouge on icecream etc. No, I swim. Not only because that’s what a bathing suit is for, but because in that hour and a half of swimming…I feel…weightless and for me, that’s a very big thing.

It’s just…

I dunno.

No one wants to go swimming with me, or no ones around to ask when I want to go. I feel I need someone with me to…justify this large mass of flesh taking up space in the lake. So when I finally get to go, I’m so freakin’ elated and overjoyed that almost nothing can get me down from cloud 9, or 10, or even 11.

So when these relatives showed up (now) 20 minutes ago, I felt…betrayed and extra fat.

Hell, I don’t even know how they’re related to us!

No one tells me anything around here!

All I know is that they vacation in our hick-town every summer and every summer the entire family unit is on the lookout for them so we can avoid all contact with them. Mostly because the father, or son, or whatever the hell he is is CRAZY loud!

And whenever we do end up running into them, we always invite them over and they never come to visit our house!

So, of course, the year we have yet to see them at the beach, they decide to come over, unannounced and unwanted (in my opinion) to visit.

I can’t wait for them to leave, since then my father will do his world famous “you girls were rude and unsociable” speech to my little sis and I, ‘cause we’ve sealed ourselves in our rooms and haven’t even said ‘hello’ yet. In fact, I’ve sworn not to take off my bathing suit. As I see it: since they stole my weight-free time from me, then they get to see me and all of my pounds and curves and bulges, uncensored (well, except for the bathing suit itself). That is, if I ever leave my room.

And mom and I are going out of town tomorrow, so no swimming then either. Out of town to visit that hellish older sister of mine whom hates me and is hated by me. Lovely.

Fat, useless and hated. Man, I feel like a million bucks!

To You/Finally clearing some things up/poem/rant

{ I wrote this two days ago at 3 AM when there was “scheduled maintenance down time” on here. So I couldn’t post it right away. My posting this now is still quite a shock to me, as I’ve pretty much lost all never since then. Also, it’ll probably have no effect, since it's pretty clear that she's not on here anymore. I have yet to accumulate the proverbial guts to talk to her/send this to her directly. }


I was stalking posts again, and realized it’s con-time in some people’s worlds.
That got me
to thinking…
and semi-crying.

This is for you, /



I’m going to take
and humongous step.
A ‘jump,’
if you will.
See, it’s time to soundly clear some things up.

I hate false fronts
and those tiny bees that aren’t really bees.
I hate when I feel used,
abused and left on the curb.
Oh,
and I hate most, if not all, girl ‘bands’.

Did I mention I’m sorry?

I’m pretty sure I did,
countless times,
and yet it seems you’ve chosen to ignore.
I’m still sort of mad,
but when am I not?
And, really, it is justifiable,
but apparently still not good enough.

Did I mention it wasn’t how it seemed?

I could have sworn I did,
but when I hear the story
from people who heard it from people
who heard it from people…
it’s like playing ‘Telephone,’
and I was never very good at that game.

Did I mention, or even hint, at what really happened?

I think I might have hinted,
but see? Being bold was never really my strong suit.
I tend to skirt around issues in poems/rants.
Issues like feeling abandoned.
Like how I felt abandoned for some number of days
when you and your chums would leave me
in your common-room-type-dealie
and not come back.
Issues of misplaced anger,
because it happened every single day in high school
and I had convinced myself I would never let it happen again.
I gave up.
I gave up on you and your friends abandoning me.
Now, see, I don’t even really know what happened on your end,
but that one day you were half and hour late,
I sighed and left for good.
I was going to be late for my Women’s Studies class,
and we couldn’t have that.
But I skirted around the issue
and slowly cut you out
and now I regret it so so much.
But, see, I was so fed up
with high school-like situations.

Did I mention that I wouldn’t mind making up?

I thought I had,
but my pleas seem to have gone unnoticed and,
even though it feels like
the more I apologize for it, the more I say it,
that I’m apologizing for something I shouldn’t be
apologizing for.
But, see? Notice,
I keep trying.

Did I mention how much it hurts, to see/hear/read you discussing things only we used to discuss?

I’m not sure if I’ve said it loudly enough.

Did I mention that, even though my mind is confused as to who was/is in the wrong, I still tend to get chocked up/teary eyed/cry when I see you not involving me or...trying?

I don’t think I have.

How many times must I say it?
It was my fault.
It was me being stupid.
(As per usual).
And I’m so goddamned sorry about it
that I’m not able to be sorry about
anything else.

I’m using up far too much time
and energy
and tears
on apologizing and admitting defeat/fault
when you won’t even bother to look up
from your newest graphic novel.

Did you know that this started off as a poem/rant about how angry I was, and how all that anger was directed at you?

‘Cause it’s not anymore,
and if you’d care to notice,
it’s me I’m angry at now

and yet you still don’t seem to care.

I’m
still
sorry.

Keira Knightley is SO gorgeous!

{Can-not-get-over-her-gorgeous-ness!}

I forgot to mention, I'm starting something.
Now, see, unlike the last post which was also posted on my deviantART page, this one will be read by no one but those who happen across this thing. Mostly because it will probably seem like a stupid thing, or something "dangerous" in some way.

I'm going through some fashion magazines I have.
I'm going to be cutting out images of...perfection.
I'm going to put them in one of the numerous empty notebooks/journals I own.
Beside them, I will be chicken-scratching why I think they are perfection.
I know.
I shouldn't compare myself to them. They're, almost, not real. But still.
When a young woman, that's almost 21 years old, who has never been kissed, never been asked out, never had her hand held, never had any real interaction with men, who is about 120 pounds too heavy, who is so shy she feel physically sick before she heads to class, who fears rejection and failure so much she's convinced herself that she can do nothing right, who already thinks so damned lowly of herself is bombarded with these images of feminine perfection, she almost has no choice but to compare herself to the images and wonder that, maybe, if only she looked like this surreal perfection, then maybe she'd be a tad happier.

Like Keira Knightley. She's in the magazine. And, no, I'm not going to say that her thin-ness is detrimental to my health, it's just who she is. Yes, she's thin, but that's not her entire self. She's gorgeous in so many ways, so many ways that I cannot compare to.

So she'll be in my journal.
Not in a "She's so pretty and thin! It's not fair!!" kind of way. More like a "I simply wish I could be lucky enough to share in, at least, one of her attributes. She's such a gorgeous woman." kind of way. (And for those who think she's "gone the way of the skinny models/actresses," no, please don't. Because she hasn't. That's just how her body is. I'm a sociology student, I've studied society in reaction to/creation of this whole "skinny model/actress," and what's being said about her is unfair.)
And I still can't get over how insanely gorgeous she is. :)

Like I said, many will find this stupid or dangerous. My mother would find it foolish and silly. But I think I need this.

I tell people that I'm okay with my body, but my only recently obtained higher sense of self-worth is, for reasons unknown, sinking at a rapid pace and I just...I need to explore why this is.
I'm sure, no, positive, that this is not the way to go about it, but when my family doesn't really see my side of things and thinks all I need to do is walk some more, that my emotions are foolish and my reactions to things are silly, and when there's nothing else to do in my minuscule town to help figure this all out, well, then I turn to semi-dangerous to my own health methods (I suppose).

Thank god I'm a teetotaler, else-wise I'd be stoned to high heavens and drunken to infinity.

Lovely.

Once again, thank whatever god(s) is/are out there that any and all real dangerous ways to feel sorry myself make me cringe/scared silly.

Haha.

Anyways, yes, this is what I'm going to be doing. I'm pretty damn positive that it won't help my self esteem, but maybe if, when I've filled a book (for example) I can re-read what I've written and come to some sort of conclusion.
Or take it to a psychiatrist back in the city when I head back to school.
I'm sure I could find some help there. I go to a women's college that's connected to the main university, so Body Image Counseling is pretty widely advertised in the halls of my college. I hope.

I'll just plug through it.

Time to be hilarious!

So I think it’s time for a hilarious update. Why hilarious? Well, why not? So, simply read the following with a semi-laugh in the back of your throat and it will either be immensely painful and leave you with a sore throat tomorrow, or it’ll be hilarious hilarious hilarious.
So, let me begin:

On a very serious note: I am applying to various classes tomorrow morning for my third year of uni-ser-vity fun. And by “tomorrow,” I mean the 5th. I started writing this at 11:20PM, but who knows how long it’ll take me to complete and then submit. And by “tomorrow” I mean we are assigned dates and times that we’re allowed to sign up for classes, so the system’s not overloaded. Mine’s the 5th at 10:30AM, so my alarm's set. YAY!
Anyway, by “various” classes I mean the following:

-Social Inequality (Sociology)
-Problems in Mass Society (Sociology, half-credit, so I’ll only have it second term)
-English and European History from the 16th to the 17th Century (History)
-Social History (History)
-Women in History (History)
-And maaaaybeeee Advertising in Society (Sociology, also half-credit, but this time first term)

And the Advertising one is only a maybe because I have friend’s who have taken it and am asking if they suggest it. Also, it’s taught by Pakvis, you know, my Methodology professor. The class I only got 50% in. Haha!
Out of all of these classes, the European history one will, most undoubtedly, be the hardest. Charlene took it last year. It’s a huge class, think some 350+ students, and the essay is, apparently, a KILLER. But it’s a required course for History majors, so I’ve gotta grin and bear it. But think: King Henry the 8th! SCORE! I love him soooo much! In a completely historical-orgasm kind of way…heh heh…
Like you TOTALLY wanted to hear that…
Don’t ask me to explain it. Please. It’s a tad embarrassing.
Anyway!

On another, slightly more serious note: The voice of the students seems to have failed.
As I scanned through Brescia’s Sociology classes for next year I came across some that were clearly Doctor Bickford’s. They’ve been allocated to other professors. It sort of… pained me. The girl that was compiling the letters never emailed us, so I was sort of in hopeful limbo. It was an…unfair feeling that I felt when I noticed that Sociology of Deviance was being taught by Professor Pakvis. It was sort of like “Wait, that’s Doctor Bi…oh. So it didn’t work.” I mean, I spilled my heart and guts out in that letter and I was so hopeful. I was left in a naive fog that had me convinced that if, say, all those in my deviance class wrote the same kind of letters (and, in this fog, I was convinced they had) that the committee must see the error in their decision.
The fog’s lifted, it’s gone. She’s gone.
I know that she teaches at York University, and I’m glad, because they’re not stick in the mud-idiots there. She’s better there. But, still.

I sort of feel, now, that I should do something on a personal level. Like, I know that this past year I slacked off in areas (hence the 50%, I suppose), so this coming year instead of saying “I’m going to do my readings AHEAD of time!” and then fall behind in the second week, I’m going to do my damndest to stick to it. It’s not like I can say “I’m going to give up partying every weekend!” ‘cause as we all know I’m sort of more a stick in the mud than the committee’s at Western. Har har!
I think I’m going to push myself to various breaking points and do more than my best. Try to obtain that imaginary A++ or work that imagined 110% harder. I’m going to do it!

And dedicate it all to Doctor Bickford.


On a silly silly note: GESS WAT GAIZ?! AIM GOIN’ 2 BAS CREAK!

In English: I’m going to Bass Creek this year. Wowza! And we all thought it had died and all! Nope! Not a damn chance!
Okay okay okay, I’ll admit that I’m semi-excited. As in, since I’ve sort of recovered a bit vis-à-vis writer’s block, this could be a great week-long-chance to write some stuff. But it’s only semi-excitement because of two things: 1. The bugs. 2. The fact that I’ll be heading up this Saturday morning with my Flabergasted Father (Remember? “Flabergasted” is the new F-word { http://blue2draconian.deviantart.com/journal/8432660/#comments } and not necessarily in a “swear word” kind of way, so NO! I’M NOT CALLING MY DAD AN F’ING FATHER! Let’s not jump to conclusions here, family-internet-stalkers, I’m just going to be using the word Flabergasted more often in intense situations.)
And I’ll only be with my Flabbergasted Father, driving up to Tobermory to wait, like, 5 hours to get on the Chi Chi Mon (boat) and mom and Juli won’t be down ‘till, like, a later date. SO! That means hours, nay, DAYS with just my father and Italian relatives.
Oh noooo! I’m surely going to be wallowing in some insane pressure and cuttlefish. (C-word).
I’m surely Flabbergasted!

But, still, it’s Bass Creek. Think of all the really odd stuff I can write there! Think…backwards towns with murderers running rampant with a mysical frog that breaths life into…dead… perch that rise and ATTACK!! HAR HAR! Maaaaaybe not.


On a hilariously hilarious note: I’m writing another silly and confusing story that is currently entitled “Willowcrest Woods”. I might re-name it “Grey and Sad and Scared and Proud.” It’s fun. Ms. Towell inspires me.


On another hilarious note: I’m rocking out to Justin Timberlake on Limewire right now….HAHAHAHA! So much for my music snobbery! But Juli and I have thoroughly established that he’s hot, so it all works out.

On an even more hilarious hilarious note: Mom finally coerced dad into ordering stuff off the internet for Juli and I. So Juli’s getting that CD that she’s been literally dying for! And me? Oh, you know… I may or may not be getting Jamie Kilstien’s spoken word CD and Jeanann Verlee’s book “Scratch Marks”!!!

And by “may or may not,” I mean “may or may not,” mostly because dad never told me if he actually got around to it. So we’ll see. :3
I’m hoping!


Anyway! I suppose that’s the end. And now, yup, it’s 1:00AM on the 5th. Silly silly me! And Justin Timberlake’s gone, now it’s The Cranberries. Man, I listen to almost everything!

Well then, time to try try try to sleep! TOODLES!
And don’t forget those mailing addresses!!