I cannot express the relief that comes with saying "Christmas is over." When I say over, I mean
over. Yes the decorations are still about, but there are no remnants of gifts, not a single shred of wrapping paper or a solitary stray ribbon. The local radio stations have returned to their usual annoying, cynical play lists. Stores have stopped sending their holiday greetings after your purchase, nor do they express their holiday return policies. The faint jingling of salvation army bells can no longer be heard from outside the post office. And the fake smiles and canned laughter can be shoved in the closet for your extended family to unknowingly accept in the new year.

My family is exhausting. I've lost some weight.

Over the past few days I have been completely foolish and unfair unto myself. But I must leave this notion that I'm deserted behind me, so that I can step into the new year, thinking only of the beauty that must surely lie ahead.


Last night I drove through the winter fog listening to some song about the delicate nature of love. Headlights would appear like shooting stars, fading inches behind me. My world was being swallowed whole. For the first time in my entire life, I felt as though I might disappear.

Breathless Mahoney

Fact:
I called in to work today & it felt amazing.

Fact:
I bought a pair of black leather combat boots for $5

Fact:
I have watched the following things on tv today:
-In the good ol' summertime (Judy Garland. Nuff said)
-two (possibly 3) hours of The Rachel Zoe Project
-I'll be home for Christmas
(Yes. The movie starring Johnathon Taylor Thomas-total dreamboat)
-Dick Tracy

Fact:
I fell asleep to The Wizard of Oz
and when I woke up, I swear I could hear the distant sound of
ruby red slippers clicking and clacking against a brick road.

Fact:
Today marks one year since a boy has kissed me.
(Not that I keep track, I was simply reminded by the cold.)

Fact:
The previous fact is depressing.

Fiction:
This is going to a be a wonderfully amazing, magical week.

(fig 1)
In the last five minutes I've learned more than I needed to.

(fig 2)
In the last five minutes I've come to realize that I've been wasting my time.

(fig 3)
I'll be the first to admit that I was wrong and that I am completely foolish.

(fig 4)
Grow up.

(fig. 1)
"I just want to be treated like a human being"

When we say (usually out of anger or disappointment or betrayal) we want to be treated like a human being, what does it mean and why do we feel we are entitled to be treated like this? And who is to say humans deserve to be held in such high esteem to the point that we must verbally express our desire to be treated as such? And if we were all to be treated as human beings (in other words, exactly the same), would compassion even exist at all? Would there be ANY consequences for ANY actions?
For now on, perhaps we should beg to be treated how we feel we deserve to be treated. Having said that, I suppose I am only worthy of this unrelenting urge to drive my car into the lake.

(fig 2)
I just ate 5 pieces of pizza and 3 blocks of chocolate and 3 glasses of Dr. Pepper. Having said that, I'm still hungry.

(fig 3)
I've narrowed what I want for Christmas down to one, little thing...
I want a DNA test. Because I've gone far too long with this undeniable notion that Claudia Schiffer is my biological mother and I'm at that crucial point in my life where I think I could really use her, you know? Santa.....pretty please?

(fig 4)
Claudia, if you're reading this (which I realize there's probably a 75% chance that you are) this is a desperate and very public plea to you. Surely there was a time in your life where you may have stumbled into a Michigan bar (possibly around January-February 1988) and found yourself intoxicated and attracted to that man in the skinny jeans and the long hair (possibly named Jerry) the same man you would find yourself embraced by later that night, the same night you had forgotten until this very moment? Mom....can I call you that? Make my Christmas wish come true.

(fig 5)
I am wayyyyy too creepy. But I guess it's better than being human.

strange, yet persistant thoughts.

1. The freecreditreport.com guy must be neck deep in pussy.
2. Christmas episodes of sitcoms always make me sad.
3. I find myself attracted to people from nick/disney way too often.
4. I am the most homely looking person I know.
5. Whatever happened to that cat from the Paula Abdul video?

we're here to fuck shit up.

I look like a chipmunk and I feel as though my body is shutting down. Getting your wisdom teeth out is not as fun as getting your tonsils out (although I have not had my tonsils removed, I wouldn't mind a ice cream diet and a written prescription to not talk)Getting them out was fine,actually. They gassed me up (which made me laugh) and then they knocked me out. It was pretty great. But then came the bleeding. Blood soaked gauze, blood on my pillow case, swallowing my blood. Super gross. And then the anesthesia began to wear off. I became extremely emotional. I was crying about how there was blood on my pillowcase and how lonely I was.

And according to the directions, I'm not supposed to smoke. That lasted about....one day. So far so good...right? Jaki came by yesterday and bought me Step Brothers and The Dark Knight and Vernors. She is seriously the best friend a girl can ask for. We then went out for Thai Food, McDonalds milkshakes and cigarettes.

The Vicodin has made me sicker. Cold sweats and sensitive nerves. The pills seemed to take all my physical pain and magnified it. So I gave up on them.

I have finals this week and 30 hours of work to look forward to.
Then Christmas (for which I have done little to no shopping for)
And then New Years (on which I will most likely take a handful of my remaining pills and sleep my way into the new year)

I'm listening to Charles Manson and have the sudden urge to watch The Wizard of Oz.

"Get all yo' gay boys on it."

My professor said that very thing today. Sometimes I forget I go to community college.

I had a photo shoot today. I've come to realize my lazy eye is getting progressively worse.
I mean, it's a real piece of shit. I tell it get a job and it's all like "I will. I will. Get off my back." But I told him, if he doesn't find a job soon, it's off my face. No free rides, eye!

In all honesty though, I suppose having a lazy eye (among other obvious physical deformities) makes my face all lopsided which in turn makes me a bit different than the usual symmetrical girl, which can sometimes be refreshing. Not that there aren't moments (countless, unceasing moments) that I wish I were prettier and possibly more symmetrical (emotionally/physically/metaphysically.) But this is all I have to give, so I suppose I must find contentment in that.

At my very best, I am disappointing.

I noticed that I almost always insist on using the handicap stalls in bathrooms. I have yet to encounter an enraged handicapped person banging impatiently on the door with their metal arm or their wooden leg or their helmet, but it's bound to happen. And when it does I will first feel like a real asshole. And then I will laugh. And then I will blog about it.

I have the most insane craving for something and I haven't the slightest clue as to what it is I'm craving. I am this close to going to Rite Aid to peruse the aisle until I find it. Oh! I think it might be Fig Newtons! Or Nutterbutters! No, no, no. Or it might be that candy with the sugar powder and the sugar stick that you lick and dip and it turns your tongue the most fabulous shades of red and blue. Nope. Not it. Maybe it's Vogue? I must pursue this mysterious craving further...

I'm falling apart at the seams. But perhaps my seams weren't that strong to begin with.

So this is what it feels like to smile.
It feels beautifully foreign.
It won't last but a few more minutes, but I would be a fool not to recognize how wonderful it is.

I picked fucking Rain Man!

After much discussion on how stupid I am for wanting to drive an hour away in our first snow storm to see Stella in Ann Arbor, my dad forked up the keys and I was able to leave without further repercussions. I stopped at McDonalds first and I was excited to see that they had made my burger so neat and tidy, which was perfect for driving. Seriously. I was excited. I drove 50 mph on the freeway the entire time. Got turned around downtown. Got pelted with a snowball. Met Jessica and J.R in line. Got right in. Went to the front. The opening dude was hilarious. I realized that I love middle eastern american men way too much. Stella came out. It was amazing, obviously. I laughed myself into sickness. Seriously. I felt ill from laughing so much. I've become completely rubbish at summerizing my life and my experiences. It was awesome.
The drive home was torture, mainly due to my insane headache and nausea. So I sang to myself a song I wrote and attempted to drink the thickest, most impossible milk shake ever.
(As a reader, it is safe for you to assume that I stopped at McDonalds twice.)

I realized that I'm growing apart from everything and everyone I've ever known. Well, it's not me. It's everyone else who is growing with the natural progression of love and life. I'm the one standing completely still, watching everything change. I'm scared. Terrified, actually.

"Wait, are you crying?"
"What? Oh. Yeah."
"Whats the matter?"
"Nothing really. I just think about things and upset myself."
"Like what?"
"It's nothing that anyone can change. I mean, I can. But I can't."
"Is it the blues? I get like that."
"Yeah. Very specific, love sick blues."

I think I will put everything I own into garbage bags and make a trip to the Salvation Army.
Theres only one thing I want, the rest is nothing to me.

I'm buying everyone packages of underwear for Christmas.
Fuck it.

Female student: God, I need a car.
Me: You can have mine. It's a piece.
Male student #1: What do you drive?
Me: '92 Grand Marquis
Male student #2: Man that's a big body car.
Male student #1: Yeah. You can fit 3 bodies in that trunk.
Me: You can fit 4 if ones a child!

Silence.

noise pollution

Last night was strange. Enjoyable and strange. I fell in love with a girl and people laughed at me while I danced. Musicians turning our guttural coughs into lyrical fodder. I saw the stairwell where my story began. Highway detours are frustrating. Getting four hours of sleep is fun.

I almost quit my job (or voluntarily forfeited my position.) I was taken into the backroom for a "talk." Apparently my moods fluctuate and I'm unhappy, therefore I have to change.
I felt attacked for being a emotionally unstable person, which is not something I can change
without professional intervention and/or prescribed medication. I could tell that they were disguising their concern for the store by pretending to be concerned about me. Apparently I'm not working to my potential, either. Oh! And I'm too social with my co-workers (two to be specific, both of which I was asked to "avoid" in order to remain focused.) They asked if it was about the "new changes" that the store has gone under recently (with new management and all.) As if I was going to give them the satisfaction of blaming my unhappiness on the store. When I told them my issues have nothing to do with work, they asked me to leave my personal problems at home as to remain professional. While they were talking, I could feel my face turning flush and I wanted to cry. Is it not bad enough that I reprimand myself for being who I am? My family, my work, my friends. Having everyone doubt you is not an easy thing to deal with. Needless to say, I'm not going to change any part of myself to fit emotional standards of anyone let alone a business. Even if I were willing, I can't. If I could, I'm sure I would have cleaned myself up by now. When the talk was over, I went into the fitting rooms to cry.
I then forced myself to stop crying in fear of getting written up for said crying.

I'm 12 credits from receiving my Associates degree in English. I'm also only 6 classes away from being able to transfer to a real school and start my English program. I realized this after I made the conscience choice to not go back to school next semester. It's all a bit too late.

A few co-workers (none of which I am prohibited from speaking to) applauded my virginity.
They told me the person I give it to will be the one I marry. This is not the first time I have heard this. I'm not sure what this means exactly, or if it's even true. I don't know what it means.

There's plenty of fish in the sea, they say.
And I'm going to fucking eat them all.

you know it's Big Willie style baby

For some reason I have Will Smith songs playing in my head on a loop. The worst part is, I don't even know the words, I just have snippets of songs. Actually, it's pretty great.

I must apologize for my emotionally unstable mini-rant yesterday. I feel no different, but I usually reserve such feelings/words for myself. I just have to wait for this to pass through me,
like a good ol' fashioned kidney stone. (Kidney stone=love? hmmm.)

While on my cigarette break, my surgeon came up to me. This caught me completely off guard.
I felt mildly guilty for smoking in front of him because there I was, killing myself in front of a man who worked so hard to save my life. Oh well.

On that same cigarette break a lady was startled when I moved. She thought I was a mannequin. I found this to be odd. I don't resemble a mannequin in the slightest. Since when do mannequins smoke?

Okay. It's totally official. I have to stop spending money. I haven't done any Christmas shopping at all and I continue to buy myself things. I suppose I'm a bit selfish around the holidays.

Also, I have to start wearing the things I buy. I have at least 8-9 things with tags still on them.
I'm becoming a hoarder. I have $60 shoes/boots that I bought over a month ago still in the box.
Maybe I have, like, one of those disorders that people in the great depression had. Or maybe
I'm just retarded.

I'm entering this thing to be in a Ben Lee video. All I have to do is take a picture of me holding a sign that says " I <3 ______" So...what do I love? I'm not sure I know anymore.