Bad Day

April 3rd, from the very start, was not good.

1. Cracked, more like, shattered the glass screen on the iPhone.
2. My checks that I deposited have not yet completely cleared.
3. Accidentally slept way, way later than I would have liked.
4. When I sent in my registration for Circus School, the form I sent, although I sent the filled out PDF, arrived blank, and so I had to send it again.
5. Miscellaneous Fees in my bank account?!
6. Not doing anything on a Friday night.

I feel like I need a good cry.

Today was ridiculous. John is good at cheering me up. I really wanted to see a movie tonight.

Lame. I want Chipotle tacos. Right now.

For Serious, Guys.

There is something REALLY wrong, really, very wrong, with me. The trouble, you see, is that there are new bus ads, the the sides of the buses, that are all LED lit, and very VERY bright. The trouble begins, for me, personally, when the bus is driving by, and a very bright blue light shines in through the store's front window, and my first instinct?

Duck!

Why?

Aliens.

Not even a joke. There were customers in the store, and all of a sudden there's a blue light, and I am down on my knees behind the counter, thinking, "Holy shit! Aliens! I am going to die!" I began to think that I might have seen things, so I peek over the counter and see Mary Poppins, complete with umbrella and carpet bag, on the side of the bus, in the light. It was beyond embarrassing.

In other news, either here, or on YouTube, or on my other blog, (which is more or less also about my days, only... from the perspective of me after I experienced something that might have killed me. It's an odd little writing project I am doing. So, no matter what I write, I will always put a link to it here. Cool? Yes? Maybe?

A lot of the people I watch on youtube are doing the BEDA/VEDA business, and while I assumed they'd be Vlogging, I was inspired by Haley G. Hoover to do write. I love to write, and sometimes I feel like I only ought to write is I have something to say, so maybe I will find I have more to say than I thought. Cool?

Cool.

Alright.

Hey!

Let's make some sense around here!

I gotta go to work!

So, after work!

Let's do BEDA!

Yes!

I got this.

The Truth

The truth is, that when I think about her, and her obsession, I have nothing, absolutely nothing but sympathy, because I find myself thinking that one day, I will need the things she needs.

yes yes yes

oh do i feel good.

The Trouble

My life is not nearly as dramatic and sad as it seems when I write here. I write here when the mood strikes and oftentimes, lately, it appears, that is not a good mood. I don't like being ignored. I don't like feeling invisible. He's making me feel invisible. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps I am invisible. Kevin didn't see me last night either. Maybe I am just fading away in to oblivion and obscurity and some other o word that I don't know and never will unless I spent a little less time trying to get noticed and a little more time looking at a webster's dictionary.

The truth about the fact is, no matter what I tell almost anyone else, in the end, I will always choose John. I am still figuring out how to break this to you. I am still figuring out how you will take it. Because I like you. I think you are pretty great. Really. You are sweet.

But John has my heart, quite wholy and competely, as much as it kills me. He took without even trying, and perhaps that is wherein the trouble is.

Isn't it awful?

Call It Off

This song reminds me of you, and how I feel about you, and how I feel about the way I feel about you.

It makes my stomach heavy.

Not as heavy as when I listen to your songs about her,

but heavy, and sick.

I won't regret saying this,

this thing,

that I'm saying.

Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?

That goes without saying.


Yes.

I'm glad I have had the courage to say things that should be said. I am happy with the direction my life is moving. Perhaps though it is a lack of direction?

I don't know what I want to do.

I want to fill my life with chairs and theater and simple, beautiful music, with books and photo strips of you and me. We look good in those photos, even in the pictures that aren't that good, of either of us. We look good.

I wish there was a mathematical formula, that I could figure out, that would make it all okay for you. So you wouldn't care about the difference, between you and me, and the big difference, that I am not her.

I think about her every day. No matter how hard I try to avoid it. I think about her and the pieces of my broken heart fall at her feet and I ache.

My heart breaks for your broken heart.

Me>You>Her

That's how it goes. I will feel this way about you, and you will feel that way about her, and it will remain that way.

Call

Break

It

Off

Call

Break

My

Own

Heart

Maybe I woulda been something you'd be good at.
Maybe you woulda been something I'd be good at.

And when I think about this song, and how much I like it, and I listen to it, and think of everything wrong, I remember as the song ends, that it is just a song.

And My Number comes on, and it's good. My Number comes to the rescue.

It really IS a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown.

<3twl

arts and crafts

I need to stop crafting in bed, especially before bed.

especially with feathers and fur and messy stuff.

Chairs

I am right now, sitting in a chair that I like a lot. It is enormous, and was at one point, white. I am sure of it. But it's been good and sat in, so it's not quite white anymore. But I like this chair a lot. It's warm, and comfortable. And it's in a room where I can listen to Bright Eyes and not feel like I am bothering anyone.

Not everyone likes Bright Eyes, you know.

But I do. Bright Eyes reminds me of Mariko. I miss Mariko. Mariko was the only thing about high school that made me sane.

Ugh.

So yesterday, I am at the Mexican place, getting my nachos, listening to my headphones, and a song comes on. and I lost my appetite entirely. I felt like puking. It was utterly and entirely ridiculous. How a song can have this effect on me, I am not entirely sure. But I really didn't want those nachos anymore. But I was fucked, because I had already paid for them. It was bad news bears. But I just kept listening to this song, and getting sicker and sicker and sicker. I mean, I know why I was sick. My stomach was ablaze with jealousy, and anger.

Songs are powerful things, you know.

I have a feeling that A and B have the same reasons for wanting to remain stagnant.

MmmmBenKweller.

In any case: There is a chair in John's garage that I am totally in love with. I have thought about it pretty much non-stop-ish since I saw it.

It is a beautiful chair.

I'm hungry.

BEASTS!

Whew!

I don't care about the reasons why this shouldn't be.

The reasons it should are bigger and better, and going to beat those other reasons up.