I think I'm something else now.
I simply remember
my least favorite things
and then I don't feel so bad!
I have no problem cashing out on ice cream and Chuck Palahniuk books (e.g. the annoying dirt-magnets that were the only available paperback copies of Diary and Invisible Monsters -- why must they be white?!) and in fact, I did nothing but that the whole weekend. That, and running 5k races with someone in fishnet stockings anyway. I wouldn't have believed if I found out earlier how I could do it in just a little over twenty-seven minutes. I even taunted the funky-smelling old geezers by sprinting the last hundred meters. HELL YES, I'm my school's greatest derby horse. They just haven't figured it out yet.
That's my Problem of a Lifetime. I've been so unreachable this summer that I might as well be dead, or lost at sea to all my lovely friends, but there's a little funny fact about that. Over the years, I've learned that if people wanted to reach anybody, they would -- across the bloody globe, or not. In my case, only a select few did, so it gives me a migraine to think about what to tell them whenever they pop out of nowhere and say something of the hello-how-are-you-I'm-bored variety. I've always been socially inept and a failure at talking small, always clinging on to my imagination for entertainment because, with the exception of my best pal, I mistrust the rest of the human race with varying degrees.
So NO, I AM NOT FINE.
People, without much argument, have already established the fact that I was weird during the last days of freshman year and they're right -- I'd rather be alone, but society makes that option unavailable, or available with unjust treatment. Hey, is it really that difficult for everybody in school to let a person like me be whoever I am? What business of theirs should include ridiculing my introverted nature in front of a public and a teacher anyway? It's not a problem for any of them to stick their heads in because they know nothing about what's going on and what's not going on in me, and I'd appreciate it if they'd get their paws back in their own jars.
I'm just unfit for this day and age. If there were three things I could change about the life I'm in, they'd be my ASL. I always thought life was better growing up in the 90's, or even in the 40's. I want to grow up watching Clark Gable and Grace Kelly, not Amanda Seyfried and whoever's the new dude in a superhero suit. This isn't me being pretentiously post-modern, but modern technology's setting the bar too low for every aspect of society. Maybe I just hated Ironman 2 too much to ever think about watching anything else similar to it.
AND I HATE BEING A GIRL. I should probably get off and spend a minute or two brainstorming for a new post, in which I will be bitching about being born with the cursed disease of being female to an audience of none. See, the most annoying thing about my brain is it always tries to find something to hate about myself when I've gotten over an older flaw.
Why, oh why?
AND I HATE BEING A GIRL. I should probably get off and spend a minute or two brainstorming for a new post, in which I will be bitching about being born with the cursed disease of being female to an audience of none. See, the most annoying thing about my brain is it always tries to find something to hate about myself when I've gotten over an older flaw.
Why, oh why?
