delightful.  nothing says "hey, it's the weekend!" like waking up each day with a hangover quality sickness that lasts until 8pm both days.  if i drink, i deserve it, but when the only thing i've done all day is try to feel better, only to wake up feeling like shit again, i don't quite see how that's fair.

basically, my days have consisted of this:

the real problem is my head hurts, the weather sucks, and half of my clothes are missing.  wtfover.

on second thought, feeling out of sorts, not myself, and not sure what to do about it.  i keep making plans, telling myself that i'm going to change things, get better.  but the real problem is i don't know what i want to change into.  how can you better your life when you have no idea what you want to do with it?  everything just seems like such a waste of time, loving and working and everything in between, just minutiae to kill time until we fade away.  uh oh, i think we've hit a stage worse than teenage emo... quarter aged apathy.  blech.  maybe i need to listen to less mopey music, cut out that portishead/jem bullshit and start cranking the AC/DC.

change is blowing on through, though, but since i'm stuck in lazy, and the internet is working well, here's a few things i'd like to hold on to (before i wipe the whole drive clean):

/ random transmission

intended on attending festivities this evening (numerous, technically), but my car is nearly officially kaput and refuses to cooperate with me.  besides that, my freking phone is dead, so i'm drowning my sorrows with mike.

uhm.  basically life is epic.  fingernails growing long, working soso hard at work, not worrying about food, and taking life by the balls.

ps.  i fucking love you.  i really do.  i just think i might be a little too emotionally ker-fukd to deal with the logistics of it all.  i just don't really know what that means, to love someone, but i'm pretty sure i do.

pps. i'm writing a new season of gilmore girls.  that's right, i am the coolest kid you know.

ppps. face is full of cathair.  i think.

PPPPPPS. i want to have an epic dance party.  BEGIN!

i'm doing nothing but thinking these days, tripping through my thoughts and practicing economy of speech.  i'm trying to pinpoint exactly where it all went south.  and i think, after much consideration and research, i've pinpointed that point.

the bottom line is, i don't like people enough to worry about being alone forever.  because i know that would suck, but apparently i'm unhappier being with someone than i am being alone.  at least, the writing was better when i was cyclically heartbroken.  and besides that, it's starting to feel vital that i reclaim that happiness that once filled my nights (up till 330 am watching boys play san andreas or secret meetings in clove smoke filled rooms, knockout drugs and not worrying about anything pertinent).

it was easier (and more successful) when i didn't think about it so much.  so i'm just going to release, let go, and work toward the ultimate dream... publisher, movie rights, book tour, hipbones, bonnie and clyde west coast.

i forgot how much i love writing this shit...

By the time she'd managed to get to the end of the tunnel she was caked in dirt, cobwebs tangling in her dark hair.  She was shaking out the debris when she realized she wasn't alone in the hallway.  Unfortunately, she was a few seconds too late, and a hand closed around her shoulder.  She jumped back, screaming, only to find Renaldo's horrified face staring back at her.

"Naldo?" she gasped, putting a hand against the wall and struggling to catch her breath.  Renaldo shook his head.

"No," he answered, and she just stared at him, confused.            

"No, what?" she asked, and he started pushing her back down the hall without answering.  She struggled, pushing back and grabbing onto a nearby end table.  "Renaldo what is your damage?"            

"Whatever you're doing, wherever you think you're going, you're not.  Johnny's ready to kill me, and if he finds out I let you go off on your own again I will be actual toast.  As in, burnt to a crisp," he told her, and finally paused as he realized she wasn't going to go easily.            

"You don't even know where I'm going.  Maybe I'm going to the kitchen to see Meg, did you think of that?" she argued, and he sighed.           

"Are you going to the kitchen to see Meg?" he asked.  Natalya blew out her breath as she considered her options.  Finally she pursed her lips.            

"No," she admitted with a huff, "But I could be.  You never give me the benefit of the doubt."            

"I know you better than to do that," he answered with a laugh, and she fought not to return his smile.

arright, so.

shitty day at work.  credit card application declined, healthy snack forgotten, STILL sick after a week, probably appendicitis.  gross.  but okay, here we are at friday night and OH MY GOD life is beautiful.  my favorite band everrrr is playing here: clickyclick  at my favorite bar.  yup.

have i mentioned yet how much i love middlebury?  i ate tomatoes and then i had a hard punch and my car is broken and i'm thinking of getting a ford fiesta:

additionally, sometimes i worry that my family legacy might be a tendency toward madness.  it's kind of genetic and inevitable, and i can't wait till the 23rd when i get my appendix out and get some therapy.

listening to country music.  getting pissed about silly things, and planning my escape.  viva la weekend!

i don't know how long this will last, but i'm hoping this realization i've come to will stick, because i really, really need this.  it's like when you're sick, you take pills to dry up your nose and make the headaches stop.  but then you're just fucking with the way your body's trying to rid that shit from your system.  trying to feel better, a temporary quick fix, isn't going to solve the underlying problem.  and the underlying problem is that you just don't give a shit.  and i can't make you.  so why get hung up on worrying about it?  i say this all the time, i realize, but standing in a supermarket today i couldn't remember exactly why it seemed to important to be your friend (or YOURS for that matter).  for a long time i wasn't feeling good enough to be near you, and you fed on that shit.  so why am i busting MY ass, trying to get you to like ME?  can't quite figure it out, except to say that maybe if i spent half as much time working on making myself happy as i spend dreaming up ways to make you like me again i'd probably be published by now.

and the worst part is, you'll read this and say "oh good, that's exactly what i wanted to happen.  i've made her life better, made her a stronger, more self sufficient person".  yeah, no.  go to hell.  all you've done is made me cold and hard inside.  it's astounding to look back at the way i used to feel about you (all), the kind of raw power and emotion i had then.  now, i just don't care.  about being around people, falling in love.  it's all superfluous.  just biology and chemistry acting out, assisting the continuation of our species and making sure we don't kill and eat our annoying ass children (and yes, while my ultimate dream is to be a mother of three, i will admit that kids bug the fuck out of me).

i've been here since 2003.  none of this should surprise any of you.  OH SHIT, she's ranting about something completely pointless, and it's really overdramatic, and in a few months she'll look back and laugh...  you're not surprised, i know.

meh.  i was also thinking how strange it would be, to go online to someone's journal and read about yourself.  i think that would make my stomach latch up into my ribs (as it tends to do just now that i CANNOT stop fucking coughing to save my life).  terrifying.  because really, you probably know that i'm talking about you.  i'm not the best at keeping my internet feelings under wraps (that's reserved for my fit and mysterious real life, where it's pretty hard to get anything out of me, period).

ohh well.  i guess i'm just in a funny mood.  imma blow my nose (whoooa forgot how to spell nose for a moment), get into bed, and pray i don't have another night of dreaming in high school musical songs.  this is pretty much what my dream was last night, verbatim:

back in school they never taught us,
what we needed to know.
like how to deal with despair,
or someone breakin' your heart.
twelve years i've held it all together,
but a night like this is beggin' to pull me apart.

i remember i kept thinking,
that i know you never would.
and now i know i want to kill you,
like only a best friend could.

so is that what you call a getaway?
tell me what you got away with,
cause i've seen more spine in jellyfish.
i've seen more guts in eleven-year-old kids.

this is the kind of thing you'd call pathetic, oh so beneath you.  but really the only thing that keeps my sickly, feverish brain from breaking apart is singing along to these songs, as loud as i can, imagining the words hammering into your skull.

what a time to be sick.  fuck this noise.  going to go buy some cold meds, puffs plus lotion, and sim the night away.  maybe when i wake up tomorrow i'll be able to breathe.  in more ways than one.

ps. i actually broke my face today.  how talented am i!?

preparing for epicness.  it's a rough job, but someone's got to do it.  here's the breakdown, but this post will run exactly how it feels sometimes to talk to me.  not enough words, just images grunts and hand gestures.

tonight:

1.

2.

thursday:

1.

sunday:

1.

monday:

1.

2.

3. 

the end.  draw your own conclusions.

okay, first let's take a moment to appreciate exactly what went down on saturday.

i don't think i can adequately describe to you my excitement level.  when they broke up, and my andrew went on to form the epic jack's mannequin, a little part of me died.  all i wanted was for one last chance, my turn to see soco in action, and now i am the proud owner of GA/standing room tickets to see SOMETHING CORPORATE AT THE HOUSE OF BLUES IN BOSTON!!!!  oh geez.  just got goosebumps.

so saturday night i went up to burlington, to some event conference room in a hampton inn, for what i assumed would be a shitty comedy show.  can i just say, al yountz has got to be THE FUNNIEST person i've ever seen in my life.  i mean really, seriously, fucking funny.  after the show we went downtown, and all i kept saying was I DIDN'T KNOW!  because i didn't know, i had no idea there were so many PEOPLE there, drinking, it was like the holy land of alcohol.  drank a drink at esoxs, two at rasputins, and none at metronome (though i did do some bumpngrind dancing that was quite a lot of fun).  went home, slept for a few hours, then packed into the car and headed to the beach.

ate surfnturf, beat house of dead in the arcade, won a shot glass, walked on the beach, ate fried dough, bought bracelets and wish anklets, and generally enjoyed hampton beach, even though many of my favorite hotels have been torn down.  lame.

now i'm home, doing laundry, being exhausted, listening to my soco playlists on constant repeat, and preparing for my last week in middlebury before i'm full time in v-gens.  holiday wknd coming up, yard sale saturday, modified car racing on sunday, parades x2 and party on monday (apparently there will be chicken, ribs, beans, potato salad, pasta salad, deviled eggs, clams, and epic booze)  if you're in the area stop by, i'm sure it will look like a circus.

have i mentioned lately that despite all the drahma, i love my life?  oh, and fuck the internet.  it's dumb.