I don't want to start liking someone that will never like me back. It's so useless, and such a waste of time. I don't want to be vulnerable. I don't want there to exist someone who could break my heart.
I'll just look at him as a friend. Then he'll be in the friend zone, and I won't be attracted to him anymore.
Whatever. Listen to Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. And listen to Oceans by the Format. This guy I know has awesome taste in music, and when he shows me good songs, I'm going to post them on here, I've decided.
I don't feel like myself.
I can't wait for next semester! I just changed to vocal music and construction tech. I was wearing pink tights today, and the lady making my schedule looked at me like I was insane when I said, "Alright, I'll go with construction tech! Who knows? It might be fun!". Sorry I'm not totally mundane. I just drank cold chocolate. It was hot chocolate. Then I started listening to music and I forgot about it.
I'm going to the states tomorrow with my best friend. Well, one of my best friends. I have a few. He's just the one I've been spending most of my time with. I'm going to shop my little heart out.
Who am I kidding - I shopped my heart out a long time ago.
I made a xanga blog account. I won't forget about blogspot, though. It was, after all, my first.
There will just be less blogs here. That's all.
I'm so into the Grecian look! I'm also MAD into mint green nail polish! Illamasqua makes a fan' one. I really want all the gold eye shadows from MAC. I want Bronze from MAC, too. I GOT A JOB, TOO! I am so excited. I'm a hostess/waitress/dessert maker/drive-thru talker. Trop excitant! I can buy so many things! My mom was buying me everything, before. Besides Christmas and Birthday money, of course. Which, technically, still comes from her. I'm a mommy's girl.
Anyway, I have to go to bed if there's any chance of me getting up at eight o'clock tomorrow.
Friday, January 15, 2010
promises, promises
So, you read my blog. I know you did, because someone told me that you read what I wrote about a certain rumor I heard. You know what I'm talking about.
Well, I'm not going to tell you who told me, but I will tell you that I know the person wasn't lying. I saw the conversation happening. He lies about me, why wouldn't he lie about you?
But you know what? I'm not disclosing anything else. Remember that time there was a rumor about me going around that I called your mom a crack whore? Totally untrue and totally unfair. You wouldn't tell me who told you. Well, that's what's up. I'm not going to tell you. You can wonder and wonder and wonder who he said this to. I don't give a damn. You and your friends treated me like shit, and I'm not about to do you any favors. You can even wonder if I'm making it up! That's what someone told me you thought, you thought I made it up. I didn't, that's for sure. But I'm not going to supply any closure, put your brain at peace. Won't do it.
I'm not trying to be mean - I'm just keeping promises.
Note- This better not turn into anything. Anyone who turns this into something is an idiot. This better be the end. I'm over fifteen-year-olds who think it's totally awesome to have stupid drama like this. I don't even like calling it drama. It's gross.
Well, I'm not going to tell you who told me, but I will tell you that I know the person wasn't lying. I saw the conversation happening. He lies about me, why wouldn't he lie about you?
But you know what? I'm not disclosing anything else. Remember that time there was a rumor about me going around that I called your mom a crack whore? Totally untrue and totally unfair. You wouldn't tell me who told you. Well, that's what's up. I'm not going to tell you. You can wonder and wonder and wonder who he said this to. I don't give a damn. You and your friends treated me like shit, and I'm not about to do you any favors. You can even wonder if I'm making it up! That's what someone told me you thought, you thought I made it up. I didn't, that's for sure. But I'm not going to supply any closure, put your brain at peace. Won't do it.
I'm not trying to be mean - I'm just keeping promises.
Note- This better not turn into anything. Anyone who turns this into something is an idiot. This better be the end. I'm over fifteen-year-olds who think it's totally awesome to have stupid drama like this. I don't even like calling it drama. It's gross.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Guns in the air.
Alright, lately I haven't been able to remember who I am, which is a really weird thing to go through, and today I finally remembered who I am. A New Years Resolution in a magazine was to sit down and write 5 reasons you'd marry yourself, and not to sound cocky (even though I am), this would usually be super easy for me. I'm really confident, I'm articulate, but lately I've been trying to just channel different ways of being because I couldn't remember who I was. It's like I just woke up one morning, had to put on a fake smile and then couldn't get out of it. Like limbo or something freaky. Anyway, I'm back. I remember who the fuck I am. I'm a bitch. I'm cocky as hell. I am talented, overly ambitious, beautiful, and sexy. I don't create self-limitations. I always win. That's how it is, and how it's going to stay. I'm the best, and I always will be. Now you know how it is. ;)
Another of my New Years Resolutions is to lose another fifteen to twenty pounds and keep it off. I like my body now, I'm just bored. That's a really stupid reason to lose a large amount of weight, but whatever, I won't be overweight anymore, I'll be a healthy weight for my height, so no danger there.
I don't know if you know the feeling, but right now I can feel a multiple-week-long bitch fest about to arise. I explained about the lead in the play, that I, obviously, got. (I always win, remember?) Well, my self-proclaimed 'rival' (I disagree, there's no competition) thinks we're going to 'get-along'. Please. I'm no doormat. I'm not going to sit there and read my lines like a good girl while she tells people I'm pregnant because she's so self-conscious. Sorry, bitch, some of us are just better. Today, I was sitting in History thinking about 'leagues'. You know, like, "Dude, she's out of your league". I finally made sense of them. I mean, I'd understood them before, but the words had never really been there. Leagues were an unclear idea in my head, not a real thing. But I thought today about the boys I flirt with, the boys she flirts with; my style, her style; the way I think, the way she thinks; my looks, her looks. I am just so out of her league. Even the boys that I have my feet are better than the boys she struggles to make look at her. Not that I would allow anyone to be defined by the amount of people who adore them, but it's a comparison worthy of mentioning.
I treat this blog like a bitch, don't I? All I do is vent. And I fully realize that the people I talk about can easily read this anytime they want, and know damn well that I'm talking about them. And I can't care anymore. What's the point of acting like you want peace with someone you want to slap? Acting fake will just make you lose yourself.
Another of my New Years Resolutions is to lose another fifteen to twenty pounds and keep it off. I like my body now, I'm just bored. That's a really stupid reason to lose a large amount of weight, but whatever, I won't be overweight anymore, I'll be a healthy weight for my height, so no danger there.
I don't know if you know the feeling, but right now I can feel a multiple-week-long bitch fest about to arise. I explained about the lead in the play, that I, obviously, got. (I always win, remember?) Well, my self-proclaimed 'rival' (I disagree, there's no competition) thinks we're going to 'get-along'. Please. I'm no doormat. I'm not going to sit there and read my lines like a good girl while she tells people I'm pregnant because she's so self-conscious. Sorry, bitch, some of us are just better. Today, I was sitting in History thinking about 'leagues'. You know, like, "Dude, she's out of your league". I finally made sense of them. I mean, I'd understood them before, but the words had never really been there. Leagues were an unclear idea in my head, not a real thing. But I thought today about the boys I flirt with, the boys she flirts with; my style, her style; the way I think, the way she thinks; my looks, her looks. I am just so out of her league. Even the boys that I have my feet are better than the boys she struggles to make look at her. Not that I would allow anyone to be defined by the amount of people who adore them, but it's a comparison worthy of mentioning.
I treat this blog like a bitch, don't I? All I do is vent. And I fully realize that the people I talk about can easily read this anytime they want, and know damn well that I'm talking about them. And I can't care anymore. What's the point of acting like you want peace with someone you want to slap? Acting fake will just make you lose yourself.
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