Part II for no reason...

So, I'm 26 and I have just figured out the key to men.

Ignore them. Treat them like shit. They will be all over you like the Right Wing media on Barack Obama.

I get it, but it doesn't make sense. Humans are odd creatures. If I ignore my dog, he chews my shoes up. If I ignore a man, they buy me things and beg me to hang out. Calling them names always seems to turn them on, too.

If I had balls, I would ignore Marcus for two weeks...Not answer any phone calls or texts. I wouldn't even take the time to press the ignore button...

64 hours of sweet freedom.

I am so incredibly exhausted. I've had about 5 hours sleep since yesterday at seven am. School isn't killing me, but this job might be. I'm praying that come May 2010, all this bullshit will pay off. I'm praying that the GRE isn't as evil as I imagine. I need this assistantship for my own sanity.

I haven't quite kept up the end of the bargain with myself. I haven't been blogging as I promised. On the bright side, two days of caloric compliance. I'm hungry, but I am learning what I can eat and what will demolish my goal. I can't quite give up the cigarettes. I love them too much.

Speaking of loving too much: I am considering the benefits of pushing Marcus entirely out of my life. In theory, it wouldn't be too difficult. Stop calling and change my number. Who cares that I live in his apartment? But in action, it's the hardest thing I have ever even comtemplated. I shouldn't lean on him. I shouldn't want him like this. I shouldn't need him, but I do. Christmas with him has been the only thing to get me through the season for the past three (four? it's hard to keep track with a man like him...) years.

Love is stupid. It is beyond stupid. It is illogical. I can't make sense of it. It is frustrating to be such a control freak when I actually control nothing.

Done for now.

Last Breath of the Dying Light

Starting today, I am quitting smoking. I am going to bust my ass in class. I am going to start eating better. I am going to start taking better care of myself. I am going to stop blowing money on stupid shit. I can still have my daily caffeine fix, but I am going to do my damndest to become a healthier individual.

I am going to start blogging daily. Not necessarily these bullshit rants that I've become so great at giving, but something. I need to work on my prose. First, I need to figure out what prose really is. I'm going to start studying for the GRE because DAMNIT I need at least a 600. I'm going to make sure that every paper I turn in is good enough to make an A. I need a 4.0 this semester and the next and the next. I have to be accepted to the assitantship program...Failure is not an option.

Oklahoma is not my home. I need to be in a place where I can thrive. I need to be surrounded by people that have the same intellectual interests. I need to be with people of ambition. I refuse to allow myself to stoop to the level of those that do not care enough about themselves. I pretend to be strong and not subject to the pressure of others, but I am fooling myself.

My drinking has grown out of control, so I am going to control it. Quitting all together is not realistic. I can drink, but I can't drink as much. Only special occasions warrant a drink. Yes, I plan on getting hammered at the OSU game. Yes, I plan on partaking in the wine at the Writer's Hall of Fame in October.

All of this sounds so simple. Everything sounds simple at six am. But I mean this. I despise the person I am becoming. I've made my bed, but it's time to get up.

Thank you. That is all.

I was reading the confessional and I came across this:

"I read her blog for exactly the same reason I rubberneck gory accidents."

I thought for a minute...Could this possibly be directed to me? I thought some more and realized that it was within the bounds of reality. My life is a trainwreck. I know this, Marcus knows this, so I'm sure my readers know this (All two of you..)

I am venting again. Not really anything different. Like when I say, "I'm mad!" and my platonic life partner answers, "What else is new?" I would love to pretend that I have everything under control, but I'm not good at lying to myself...I never believe me.

This is more or less my journal. I don't know that it can be called a blog with so few entries and so few readers. I'm happy for the readers that I do have though. It connects me in a weird way that I can't connect with people off line.

Conversational switch:

I spent $110 on booze last night. I've spent over $600 on booze in the past three weeks. I'm feeling a little depressed. I used to have fun drinking. I used to love being at the bar and talking to people. But lately, it has lost its shine. I don't enjoy taking shots. I don't enjoy handing $8 to a stranger for evil in a glass. I hate the hangovers. It seems they only get worse. Instead of waking up with a mild headache, I wake up with motion sickness and vomiting. This could possibly due to the recent increase in my drinking habits. There was a point in time when I could buy two or three drinks, be tipsy, and go home. Not the case these days. It takes $60 or more to reach that point and even then, I fight sleep and continue drinking.

I feel better today. This rant started yesterday, but I definitely feel a little better today. My talk with Marcus did more for me than anything. I know that this is my battle to wage, but just knowing that someone else cares enough to be disappointed makes it a little easier to fight.

Love is something I cannot understand. I know that he loves me, I would be a fool to believe otherwise, but there is always something missing...

Done for today. Going back to bed.

The best $60 I've spent this week...

So today, I wake up, hungover, an hour and a half from home...I drink a wine cooler, pack my things, and make the trek back to Tulsa. I realize I'm supposed to get in touch with my recruiter.

Maybe I should have forgotten all together, but I was being optimistic. I know that I've been a hellion in the past, but hell, doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? I want to enlist...I really do...I've always wanted to enlist, but in the shuffle and hustle of my younger years, I neglected to see the importance of acting. I've talked to the Marine Corps, the Air Force, Navy, Army, and lastly, today's meeting, the National Guard.

I arrive in the office. The Sgt. takes one look at me and informs me that if I can't drop fifty pounds in three months, then I am wasting my time and his. As he pulls up my arrest record, I sit there, praying that just this once someone will look at my accomplishments instead of my failures. He shakes his head and let's me know that there is no way in hell that I will ever be able to serve my country.

I didn't freak out. I didn't cry. I walked, head down, to my car and searched for some support. I texted my best friends, I called Marcus, I even called my grandparents. The phones rang and the texts went unanswered.

So I drove...And drove...and decided to shop, but walking into the store, one thought crossed my mind: So it goes...

So I went. And I made sure that I would always remember that no matter what happens, life will continue. And that no matter what changes I make, it will always go. I can't change the past, but I can direct my future.

For some reason, this tattoo hurt less than the rest. Like I was meant to have it. As if maybe, the pain was dulled so I would know that I was doing the right thing.

I love it. It makes me happy. I am proud to have something that makes sense to me. Something that I don't mind explaining... I am proud.

www.dafont.com/font.php?file=traveling_typewrite&page=1&nb_ppp_old=10&text=So+it+goes...&nb_ppp=10&psize=m&classt=alpha

What's wrong with me?

I've been falling behind in my writing. This isn't on purpose, but often, I am struck be this overwhelming sense of inferiority to other writers. I read Bunniblog and realize that even when she's discussing the intricacies of making French cream puffs, she's still 134% more interesting than myself. I even read Steve Don't Eat That and think, "Wow, maybe I need to eat some Spam that's been in the cabinet for 7 years...Or some natto..." I visit my fave writing website and see that the Scriners can capture each other's attention with a quickly penned sentence. I feel like my work doesn't belong there either. I haven't written anything to be proud of since the Spring...maybe well before that.

I started a new series a few weeks ago, but can't muster the energy to start on chapter two. Shit, it's not like it should be difficult. It's my real life!

It's been like this lately for me. I'm becoming indifferent to my own life. I'm not sure that I really want to try anything these days. Work is a bore. Once I loved smiling and entertaining the guests during our brief encounters. Now I grow irritated if I am forced to open my mouth to them. Marcus has always been one that I have wanted to talk to. Someone that I would chase to the end of the Earth. But lately, I couldn't give a shit what he thinks. I still want to hear his voice, but it's as if his words mean nothing. I don't get happy when I speak to him, I get hostile because I wonder why he doesn't say the things he should say...Or worse, I wonder what the things he did say actually meant. I feel that he's the conductor of some mass conspiracy to string me along...To humiliate me. Somedays I think that this is his goal. To reel me in and cast me back out into the dark waters of the world. This neverending cycle is some plot to ensure my eternal loneliness.

I'm not unhappy. I'm okay with the idea that I am not as talented as my peers. I don't dwell on the idea that I will forever be trapped in the web of deceit and confusion that my own muse has spun for me.

I'll finish this late since I am incapable of finishing anything...ever.

FML

What is wrong with me?

If you must know, I will tell you.

I hate my job. I hate being forced to tell people that they can't stay because I know they're only renting a room to do meth or pimp hoes. I hate the fact that my bosses are so freaking nice to me, but at the same time they run a flop house for local drug dealers and prostitutes. I hate giving nice guests refunds because they found a fucking roach in their room. I hate that I can't find a better job because I made huge stupid mistakes when I was 20.

I'm not happy that the only person I want to talk to every single day is busy. I'm not happy that I love him so much that I am unable to give attention to anyone else. I'm not happy that regardless of what he says, I don't believe him. I'm not happy with myself because I am so superficial.

I want a drink. I want Marcus. I want a better job.

It's so fucking ridiculous that no matter what good deeds I do, no matter how many classes I take, and no matter how many degrees I obtain, I will still be judged on something that happened years and years ago. It's not only work. It's life. I can't tell new friends what has happened in my life because 9 times out of ten, they will turn their backs on me.

I am not in the mood for this blog right now...I'm going to vent in other ways.