A Period Of Introspection

But I want to do that later, I’m being punished right now. No, my parents did not do this, I punished myself. I will have an extreme amount of guilt and restrict myself from one or two pleasurable activities.

Why am I punishing myself? Because I’m being forced to rethink; and I told myself I wanted a motorcycle in life. You know. I didn’t want to peddle slowly through my college experience. I wanted a motorcycle and to just ZOOOOM right through.

I know this is not the experience I wanted. I wanted a dorm and a laptop and a roommate to argue with. But my mother did not want to save for my college. So now what do I have? A public education. Forced to be with people that piss me off and no dorm. Happiest time in my life? Fuck you. My happiest time when will be when I’m 25 in New York with my loft and my slice of fucking heaven.

I’m really starting to hate adults. I’m so painfully close to becoming one and yet there is this little college hurdle in my way. I just need to jump before I smash my face on the cement.

My mom said she wanted a gun to end it all today. Ha.

I realize that I’m not over death and that if my fucking big wheel doesn’t pick up speed I will question everything and make me realize that I can’t.

I can only take two classes in the spring which means no sewing class. Fuck. I need to take the same god damn classes that I failed and PRAY that I get an A in them. Then in the mother-fucking summer I get to take classes I want to.

I think I must have been Hitler in a former life. Think about it: psychologists believed that Hitler killed because he was so insecure about himself. He only killed the Jews because he was Jewish and he only killed blah because he was blah and so on. I am now caught between two younger siblings who HAVE to get good grades in everything and got on the mother-fucking IB honor roll and an older brother who just has to save the fucking universe with his bastard trips to Ethiopia and so on.

I now know how serial killers can murder. Not the ones who kill to get their jollies off, but the ones who murder because they saw their families killed. I was on the bus after receiving the news that I just wasted a bunch of money and I realized that these other people mean NOTHING. I don’t know them or where they’re going. Fuck them.

You know what sucks about this whole thing? When I went to the counselor’s it was going back into High school. I tried to explain them that I’m not actually retarded…there just GRADES!

You know what else sucks? I keep thinking that I’m going to matter in the future. Like some director or some music producer or someone is going to ‘discover’ me and I’ll have a true Hollywood story. God damn it.

So, now I have a huge opportunity to sit back and think about where my life is going and if I’m truly happy about that course.

I have no idea currently…

My sitcom called 'life'.

Ha! That’s funny.

Sorry, I was just reading my last post and realizing how things have changed; friendships burning and smoldering while new ones seem to be happening everywhere. Sorry for the cliché Hallmark talk, but I am feeling extremely positive.

I finally decided to stop prancing around the issue and take a sewing class at MC. It sounds like an extremely fun hobby, plus I’ve always wanted a mannequin in my room [no clue why]. Oh! And I decided that opening my own business was a boring move that will leave me extremely burnt out. I’m thinking of a receptionist career. I would still need a background of business, but it would involve a lot less stress and a lot more personality.

Hopefully at 25, I will be living in New York with a comfortable condominium while working at an independent radio station/ major news program/ clothing boutique. In my spare time I wish to sew and draw a small, independent web comic.

My life sounds more like a sitcom every time I imagine it….

Mildly new “depression” update, I found that almost half my family is afflicted with seasonal affected disorder [that’s right, we are all SAD]. So Christmas was a mild letdown because we were all expecting this HUGE emotional up thrust but, thanks to my relative’s lack of presence, it was rather depressing.

Oh! I got the job at Trader Joe’s and have been working their since late August. It’s a decent job and I will be saving the little amount I don’t spend on crap to pay back my loan [estimated/guessed 20,000].

Thank you and see you in a few months! *bows and leaves*

Butterfly FLY!

Ambitions are fucking retarded.

I had a period of deep introspection today. No, the TV was not broken. I, actually, had other things to do. One activity was finding a job; weird, huh?

I’ve spent the entire summer trying to get a job. Well, today my mother was so annoyed with my nonchalant attitude that she just drove me to local places that might need work. I’m applying to Starbucks and Trader Joe’s. I really hope I get the job at Trader Joe’s.

But, regardless of that; I’ve decided I hate people and, therefore shouldn’t sing. I’d rather become an idol to the people close to me and wear awesome fashions and open up my store instead of chasing false hopes in a music career. Sure, I’m giving up cocaine, but who cares?

I blame this happy mood on my incense. In love having my room smell like an angry, little Asian woman runs it.

Yeah, those boots are fucking awesome. They are a combined project with the band The Dandy Warhols and a shoe company. They are, at least, $300. I can’t find them anywhere. But, regardless, I love them.

They look like they could be eaten. It looks like butter shoes.

...Simpson’s movie…? Why not…..

I don’t know why, but the urge to impress everyone left today. Like a butterfly leaving my chest.

I want a Mohawk.

And Aviator glasses.

3:14 KEEP GOING!

I was watching this special on the biography channel. It was supposed to be one of those ‘exploring the truth’ specials that you would expect to find aliens, big foot and all that jazz. This program was on Transformations; a weird subject, to say the least.

One subject, in particular, really caught my eye. It was a small biography about this woman who wanted to become a life sized Barbie doll. She wanted it because she always felt like the ugly outcast and, in becoming a Barbie, she wanted to accomplish the dream of becoming one of the beautiful, popular people.

The weird thing about this documentary was that she was not ugly AT ALL to begin with. She had a perfectly proportional body with pretty brown curls. But, she couldn’t see it because, as she would later conclude, she was often teased in high school and her dad showed very little interest in her.

So, completely confident in herself, she moved from her small, rural, existence into the big city of London. She was completely broke until her father died and left her 20,000 dollars; so she, instead of going to the funeral, went on the operating table for her first of thirty surgeries.

She soon became one of the most well known women in London because of her radical lifestyle and infomercials about the beauty and happiness that comes with plastic surgery.

The sad part was that when she returned for her twenty year reunion to her old high school, she acted like she always did and stood in the background while the other, formerly popular, girls chatted and laughed, completely ignoring her.

Not to mention the fact that her ‘friend’ identified her as a complete freak for trying to strive for the impossible cause of perfection when the world had so many other more important causes.

So, why did I remember this trivial broadcast? Because, despite the thousands lost in surgeries and the thousands more to go, she had no regrets because she had strived for her goal and won.

I, personally, am mildly jealous of the fact that she had this constant dream in her head and that she would not give up no matter what anyone else said.

Need to sleep.

It's 3:06am right now and I need to get to sleep. Partially, because I have been watching Rufus Wainwright interviews from 1:30am.

I am going to make this brief because I hate revisiting old topics. I officially want to move to London when I graduate college. I want to audition for their American Idol program. I want to do it in London, mainly, because if I fail I want no one to see it. It seems like a decent test of my singing ability. If I make it I pass. If I suck I fail. It would, literally, take less than a year than, if I fail, I can set up a porn store in Britain and die a happy man.

I don't know why I feel like I can make it. I always love writing poetry. So, to sing to my poetry, sounds wonderful.

God, I'm such a fucking retard.