Something that annoys me more than being trapped in a small room with a person who is eating oatmeal is being forced to confront my own laziness. Fact: I never deny that I am lazy. Fact: I do rather enjoy said laziness. Fact: It hinders my productivity and stifles my potential. Fiction: I am proud of this.
My inherant laziness (read as: affinity for warm beds and long naps) at times comes in conflict with things that must be done. Things that can be done later? Postponed until tomorrow. Things that I should probably do, but won't hurt me in the long run if I don't? Scrapped. But things I have to do? Given thought and consideration to their capacity to make me happy.
That's all this deadly sloth business is really about, me being happy. Weighing my options and then making a decision based upon what I feel will benefit me most in the long run. Sometimes activity beats out lethargy, like when I decide to stay up all night with Alex instead of getting a few hours of sleep. Other (okay, most) times my bed is just too warm and inviting, or the internet is just far too interesting.
Winter term and I don't get along very well. We never have. My grades always drop around this time of year. I'm not sure if it's because the cold weather depresses me and makes me lazier than usual, or things just tend to jam together in the middle of the school year. Maybe both. I apologize if I'm a downer because of all my napping and consequential stress caused by said napping.
There is a lesson to be learned in all of this! Employ your will power! Don't give in to your sinful lazy ways! Grow a spine and do what is asked of you! Or perhaps the lesson here is just to give in to your lazy nature and be smart about it and not get yourself involved in 5 different things which require major committment.
Regardless, my German class is canceled today and I plan to take full advantage of this fortuitous occurance. After all, I have 27 hours, 30 minutes, 30 seconds worth of extracurricular things to do this week, and only 19.5 hours of free time. Good luck, me. But I'll probably just take a nap.
Just when I had finally straighted out my head and achieved a zen-like approach to my life as it currently stands, I decided to throw a huge fucking monkey wrench into the placidly turning gears. Looks like I just can't be content being, well, content. We'll see what comes out of this.
I've never understood the appeal of having an attitude problem, or simply copping an attitude. I mean sure you're "hardcore" and people know not to "fuck with you" but is having that edge really worth a majority of people absolutely loathing you?j Is the weight of the world settled so heavily upon your shoulders that you simply cannot find the time to be considerate of other people?
I'm not asking surly teenagers to be nice. As my buddy Jordan said, there is a vast difference between being considerate and being nice. To be considerate is to think of other people from time to time and not letting your failings interfere with other people's lives. To be nice is to be considerate all the time with no good reason. Hell, I'm not nice, I can't ask anyone else to be. I just ask that you keep your foul mouth, rolling eyes, and Billy Idol snarl away from me.
It's just uncalled for to call someone a "stupid bitch" for making a mistake, or swearing at authority figures, or making rude gestures behind other people's backs. Why are you so pissed off? Calm down. Smile at something that isn't at someone else's expense. Don't scoff at constructive criticism, and for the love of God, stop rolling your eyes.
If the silence takes you then I hope it takes me too
Do you remember when you gave me the nickname of Stabby the Clown?
Do you remember when you walked around downtown Naperville with that decoration you stole from the Arabian Nights homecoming dance dangling out of your fly?
Do you remember when we stayed up almost all night eating as much crap as we could, popcorn, extra-chocolatey hot chocolate, pretzels, frozen pizza, chips, and whatever else we could get our hands on, and then watched House on Haunted Hill with massive stomach aches?
Do you remember when we talked about bees?
Do you remember when we would go sledding down the barely imperceptible incline in the front yard, and that was thrilling enough?
Do you remember when you came to visit me at school even though we had only hung out together once or twice before, and how it wasn't even weird?
Do you remember how I always had something witty to say whenever you showed up, but really just wanted to throw up the whole time?
Do you remember when I dragged you three blocks in the freezing cold after we saw Blue Man Group just so I could take a picture of The Man Hole, and you accidentally yelled "sick!" just as a gay couple walked by?
Do you remember when you almost crashed the car when I said "I'm holding a joint right now!"?
Do you remember when we traded pants at Rachel's birthday party?
Do you remember how we were so sure the school system had a conspiracy against us when we were at last placed in the same class, they divided up the 5th grade and you got moved?
Do you remember when we set up a brownie stand in your backyard to sell them to golfers, and Ms. Rzeppa was the drink cart lady and she gave us a free pop to share?
Do you remember when I told you that you looked good, and you told me that it looked like a clown threw up on me? Yeah, thanks.
Do you remember when we would take walks at obscene hours of the night, and I would never wear shoes, and then complain about my stupidity?
Do you remember when you wanted me to be in a Michelle Branch music video you were making, but I didn't know any of the words?
Do you remember when we were driving back from the movies, and we sang our hearts out to "Shine" by the T's, and you commented upon our three "fucking" years of friendship?
Do you remember when we were at state for Group Interp and the senior girls convinced you to try on a Hooters shirt, and you struck a hilarious sexy pose that haunts you to this day?
Do you remember when we would just drive around aimlessly, windows down, talking about life, sometimes belting out a Disturbed song or Barbara Ann?
Do you remember when we lit those leaves we put in the Walgreens shopping cart on fire, and my neighbor came out and yelled at us?
Do you remember going to get our ears pierced together, and I decided to go first and then passed out, thereby shaking you up and terrifying that little girl?
Do you remember when we would eat at Taco Bell almost every day, and that time you made "fire cheese!"?
Do you remember sitting in your bedroom and listening to "Graduation" by Vitamin C and crying, wondering if life after middle school would be the same?
Do you remember when I could convince you to ditch your option period and come to Taco Bell with me, and we'd sit and talk and bask in the glow of being deliquents?
Do you remember when I loved you? Oh wait, that's right now.
Ressurecting memories from ashes,
Awkward moment of the day:
Scene: I'm being a DJ, Wes comes into the studio and begins looking at the away messages of the people on FM89's buddy list.
Wes: Let's see what you're doing. Auto Response from Dusted Pyxie: I love you.
Me: Uh, apparently I love you.
I blew a hole straight through the calandar
Dynamite words and black powder tears
All my careful preparation, precise sabatoge of the heart
fell apart as I realized
- I was making a mistake -
You can't call a halt to something like this
It's all or nothing- I love you, or I don't
Once said, you can't take it back
I ordered the forward march! and could not pull out
My troops were committed because I was not
and thus you fell.
Once upon a time I was falling in love but now I'm only falling apart
Yet another entry that shall be focused on my petty woes. How LiveJournal of me.
I've said it before and I will reiterate it now, I'm not a person who lets go easily. Running parallel to this is the fact that I get emotionally invested in certain things very, very quickly. Sometimes the "thing" is an idea or a project, more rarely this "thing" is a person. Whatever this thing may be, the depth of my attachment is directly proportional to how well it is compatible with my life, my interests, and my dreams and goals.
I'm going to admit this once and only once. This is one of those "deep dark secret" things I spoke of in a previous entry: The first time I saw him, I heard that 'bell'. The sound of possibility, the sound of something absolutely right settling into your life. Something in my gut would jump every time I passed him in the stairwell in the stadium or would make eye contact with him at station meetings. He said he remembered seeing me standing outside the library once, but I never told him I remember him passing by that day as well.
Point being, I was already emotionally invested in him before he forced himself into my life, and his sudden arrival and essential departure absolutely killed my emotional stability. I have since spent the past month trying to get over it, trying to forget he ever existed because having him on the periphery of my life is not, and will never be good enough now that I got a glimpse of the tangible person he is. Up until the last week and a half, this was literally all I could think about. Every song was relevant, every friend's life scenario was similar in some way, and no matter what I did, I dwelled.
It feels like this has absolutely consumed my life recently, but I made such a huge effort to keep it inside. Some people keep things to themselves because they like having secrets, and others do it because they like having secrets to tell. I kept this more or less to myself because I recognize how absurd, silly, and ridiculous it was. One pseudo-date and suddenly I'm obsessed? It was, is, embarrassing and also utterly debilitating. Because I was unfortunate enough to have one of those Bell People manifest himself in my life I walked around for the last 4 weeks oblivious to everything else going on around me. I've let my schoolwork suffer due to daydreaming, I've let my friendships suffer due to lack of attention, and I truly believe I've possibly postponed or blatantly ignored a real, concrete potential romance.
For this, I am sorry.
Kentucky was my wake-up call where I found myself going an entire day without once thinking about him. I have since been more productive, more focused, and less mournful that I have been, and this is good. The only drawback is that I am still tempted, oh so terribly tempted to keep this emotional mess alive and painful. His picture taunts me when it appears as one of the 6 "Friends at N. Central IL" on Facebook, his screenname glares at me on my buddy list, perpetually away yet with profile quips and away messages that mean something to someone, just not to me. I still have to physically and mentally force myself not to click on his name, or read his away message, because I know it will only foster this abusurdity longer.
This hurts. It still hurts as much as the day he said he made a mistake, and, as silly and crazy and ridiculous as it is, it might hurt for a very long time. The good news is, I'm overcoming it. I'm burying it, and I can stop hating myself for being stupid.
I'm not proud of much, but when I'm somewhere else in this world and a stranger asks me where I'm from, I stand a little straighter, my shoulders square a little broader, my eyebrows raise a little highter and with a smile I say..."Chicago".
Yet another weekend filled with reminders that I do not, in fact, talk like a normal human being. At one point I found myself surrounded by Alabama students after a rallying cry of "Y'all! Come here! Listen to how she says 'Chicago'! Hey, say it again!" This was the break of routine that I needed to draw me out of the mood I had been in. My sleep cycle will not recover for days, but the stronger bonds and the better mental health was worth it.
Nothing new, exciting, or interesting has happened to me recently with the exception of this trip, so if I talk excessivly about it, forgive me. Life has been somewhat painfully monotonous until this weekend. Highlights: buffalo chicken pizza, hour long conversation with Brady, nude mice with Courtney, 6th place, dominating Burnt, hot tubbing, Jimbob, and being insightful. For the record, Jimbob is a real person whom I met this weekend.
Short entry. Big smiles. Empty hearts. Lots of love.