How do you know?

When those songs that used to make you cry now make you smile because you think about him.
When you can't wait to see that person again, even if it means leaving Hawaii.
When you think "This would be so much fun if he were here.."
When you you fall asleep and dream about him just talking to you and saying everything you want to hear.
When you watch and recount everything you say, just to make sure you don't say anything that would be even potentially stupid.
When any new text is cause for excitement.

That's how.

By the way

This is post # 69.

TEEHEE

I have something I wanna tell you

Sigh.

There are some things that literally will not leave your mouth. The words simply don't form.
Like grains of sand, they sit in your throat, irritating and painful, and they are rendered useless.

Oyster, make me a pearl.

Some data.

Total number of bruises and cuts on my left leg: 10

Total number of bruises and cuts on my right leg: 4

Total number of injuries I actually remember happening: 3

This adds up in how many ways?: 0

Am I sleepwalking into thornbush patches every night?

That was a bad call

What kind of loser gets drunk by herself at 11:00 pm on a Wednesday?

Ahem....

My dad would say that it's self-medication because it wasn't a social drinking scene. I can't really remember what I was thinking or feeling before I opened the first bottle, so I can't comment now.

I always expect to feel better when I drink. Every time. And every time, I just end up feeling like I'm covered in muck.

I think that's a sign of idiocy or insanity. Doing the same thing over and over while still expecting different results.

Maybe I'll remember later. I don't think I did anything particularly stupid....

I agree

GG2, it does feel good, doesn't it? To get back into those first phases of a new infatuation...

I don't know if there's an emotion that's more difficult to deal with than the fallout that inevitably occurs after a broken heart. Everything reminds you of what went right...what went wrong. You begin to wonder what you could have changed. How much was really your fault. A certain song comes on the radio and you switch the station before you start to cry in the middle of early evening traffic. You laugh and try your best to convince people that any discomfort you feel at this point is merely frustration and a patronizing amusement. You tell everyone around you that you're okay. You hold your tongue and pray that whatever it is that you feel...you pray that it will go away soon. You don't just remember how much he hurt you...you remember everything that made you so happy in the moment and you throw your hands up and wonder what the fuck you did to make him throw that all away.

"How did he forget me so quickly? Why is he doing just fine and I'm still such a mess? And for gods sake, for the mother of everything that is good and holy, what can I do to make this stop? When will I be whole again?"

I don't know exactly what that emotion is. But it hurts. It hurts a whole fucking lot.

And then...there comes a point when those songs don't remind you of him anymore. You keep listening because for the first time, you think about somebody else, and for the first time in months, you can listen with a smile on your face. And it's absolutely wonderful.

I've said this before, but now, I think it's the first time I can really mean it.

I'm free.

To the person who is helping me back onto my feet without really realizing it....thank you. Whatever happens, whatever comes of this, you've already done and given me everything I need.

On a bitchier note, the Honor Roll came in today. The lists for Honors and High Honors are out. Guess who's not on either one...?

HAHA.

Everything is beautiful at the ballet.

"A Chorus Line" was pretty cheesy.

I'm in the Sheraton New York hotel lobby because that's where I can get free Wi-Fi. It's also ripe with some excellent people-watching.

I recently went through and read all of my old posts on this blog. Some of them were happy. Many of them were sad. All of them were true.

It seems like I'm a better writer when I'm upset or angry. Everything that I've written in a state of anguish or hysteria has been painfully honest and real-two attributes that I greatly admire in the world's best writers.

Do you have to be tortured to be a genius?

I don't consider myself particularly articulate or intelligent-just someone able to describe the truth. My ability to impress people lies solely in the intrigue that the truth holds. People don't want to hear about satisfaction. Human beings are fascinated with pain, obsessed with it. Obsessed with seeing how much of it we can take. How much of it we can inflict. And most pertinently to this discussion, how well we can envision and imagine it without having to experience it for ourselves.

Why do you think the gorenography genre has exploded? We don't care about getting scared, because these movies don't scare us. There is no inherent psychological presence in these films. And yet, we watch them under the guise of watching horror movies because pain captivates us. There is so much of it to see, to hear. So many different ways to inflict it. The questions we all ask ourselves are "How far is it going to go? How many more needles can she possibly drive underneath his fingernails before he passes out from the pain? How much longer until the flames reach his flesh? When is it going to end?" Not because we want to see the end...because we want to keep watching. There is no pity here. Only fascination and an oft unexpressed desire, a NEED to witness more. Pain is the cause and effect of so many things. There are very few things that are universal.

Pain is one of them. Everyone understands the language of tears and anguished screams.

Yet so few of us are willing to admit this fascination. Really. I can't be the only one with a little bloodlust of her own.

So now the question is how much pain do we need to endure in order to become the geniuses that we all want to be? More importantly, how much pain are we WILLING to endure?

not anymore.

Something always brings me back to you.

It never takes too long.

No matter what I say or do,

I'll still feel you here

'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.

You keep me without chains.

I never wanted anything so much

Than to drown in your love

And not feel your rain.

Set me free....leave me be.

I don't want to fall another moment

Into your gravity.

Here I am, and I stand so tall,

Just the way I'm supposed to be.

But you're on to me and all over me.

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.

When I thought that I was strong.

But you touch me for a little while

And all my fragile strength is gone.

Set me free.....leave me be.

I don't want to fall another moment

Into your gravity.

Here I am, and I stand so tall,

Just the way I'm supposed to be.

But you're on to me and all over me.

I live here on my knees

As I try to make you see that

You're everything I think I need

Here on the ground.

But you're neither friend nor foe

Though I can't seem to let you go.

The one thing that I still know is that

You're keeping me down.

Not anymore.

Stem Cell

I always thought that I wanted to live in New York City.

I'm not so sure.

Granted, it's got a great energy. I love walking around in the late evening, being a part of the never-ending wave that just seems to surge through the city.

At the same time, this chaos, this buzz...it can make things seem awfully impersonal.

There's no lasting individual impression. For better or worse, you're just another cog in the wheel, ready to keep churning along with everyone else.

Computer science

I am a Mac computer. I was drained of most of my battery due to being dropped on the pavement, so I went into charge-saving mode. The "sleep" mode, if you will.

I've got a little more power now, so I can display a screensaver. Not completely functioning, but showing promise.

I think I might be able to restore to a full desktop soon.

Let's all get a little high

I finally found the correct analogy to describe how great ballet makes me feel.

It's like having an orgasm for an hour and a half straight. (TEEHEE)

I'm dead serious.

I'm not even shitting you right now, I feel a mother fucking AFTERGLOW after a good class. And everything, every bone, every muscle, every blood cell in my body aches, but I feel such an intense physical euphoria that makes up for and encapsulates all of that pain simultaneously. And joy...I feel joy. An emotion that doesn't come naturally. After the class is over, I drive home with a really doofy little smirk because the smile just comes naturally and everything seems so..beautiful.

Fuck weed. This is the highest I've ever been. Ballet isn't an anti-drug.

It's heroin set to music.

I don't know you, but I want you

A few weeks ago I visited the elderly care center that my grandmother on my mom's side lived at before she passed away.

The staff remembered me, asked me how I'd been.

Even some of the patients remembered who I was...the younger ones.

I was picking up a few pictures and things that we had accidentally left behind in her old room.

And the man who my grandma had sort of fallen in infatuation with remembered me

My grandma told us that he was a pilot

I asked him about his flying experience.

He was never a pilot

He spent his life as a salesman for his family business

But one day he painted a simple picture of him and my grandma flying in a plane together.

During a crafts period.

It was on her wall in her old room.

And so she remembered him as a pilot. Her pilot

Me vs. You

Me, starving wolverine....you, baby covered in porkchops.

Me, pigeon with explosive diarrhea...you, statue under me and my friends.

Me, Mexican sprinting champion with cousin in North Texas that has job opportunity for me...you, border.

Me vs. you......

Still watching Important Things. Demetri Martin is maybe one of my new crushes. He's so awkwardly endearing! TEEHEE

I finally got to hang out with some of the guys yesterday (see communal blog). It was the first time since the breakup. And it wasn't awkward at all. I held my own. It felt alright.

Things are looking up. I'm still friends with them...maybe with some time, I'll be friends with Towlie.

This is no longer a game of me vs. you. Me vs. them. Us vs. you. Us vs. them. Or whatever it was.

Happy Birthday, America

We celebrate by buying illegal fireworks and drunkenly singing Lyle Lovett songs (or maybe that was just my father).

So I was dreading tonight. But it wasn't too bad. It was actually kind of fun. The girl I mentioned earlier is pretty cool. I misjudged and I judged too soon.

I'm moderating some drunken revelry going on in my kitchen right now....neither of my parents have filters or inhibitions when they're drunk.

Now put that thing back where it came from, or so help me!

That's what she said.

LOVE Monsters Inc. I forgot how awesome that movie was.

"SHE'S OUT OF OUR HAAAAAAIIIRR"

Teehee.

There's literally nothing else to talk about.....gah.

There will be after tonight. Miss Weirdoreligilous will be fun.

Chop chop

My hair is at my chin.

It's boingy and bouncy. Boincy, as I said earlier today.

Right now, it's in two teeny leetle pigtails.

I love it.

It's exactly what I needed.

I'm actually looking forward to going out, getting out of my cave here in this house. Because I just feel better. About the way I look, about the people around me, about next year....about mostly everything.

We'll see how long this lasts.

Ride the wave....