Space Heater

I love my space heater. You don't even know. I'm one of those people who just can't handle the cold, and I get cold really easily. I generally have the heater on the highest setting, sitting next to me while I'm at my desk.

Lulabelle won't shut up, it's really annoying...but if I let her out of my room, she will just walk up and down in the hallway meowing and echoing. I love her, but she's such an attention whore.

Yes, I just called a cat an attention whore.

My hands are especially cold. My hands and feet. I'll touch somebody and they'll cringe and ask why I'm freezing, which sometimes kind of sucks. Except for with Mika. His skin is on the hotter side, so he needs the cold, and I need the heat. It works.

I am so weird. I swear, I'm like an alien or an un-sexy vampire or something. I'm cold as fuck, pale as fuck, I barely ever scar, and the couple times I have, the scars have disappeared within two or so years, insects and spiders don't bite me, I sometimes go momentarily blind, I get sick all the fucking time, and I'm pretty weird looking too. Who knows, maybe I'm not human after all.

I don't understand why bugs don't bite me. They used to, although not as much as they did other people. Not even one mosquito landed on me this summer. I was outside a ton, and I was in North Carolina. It's been like this for a few years. In the past couple years, sure, I've had the occasional mosquito land on my arm, but I still don't get bitten. 

I don't get stung, either. I'm not afraid of bees, not at all. Sometimes I'll even let them crawl around on my hand, or I'll pick them up until they can fly away if they're hurt. I just don't get stung. I tried to research it online, but I didn't find much. 

Mika is grounded this weekend. 

I asked him if they celebrate Valentine's Day in Brazil.

He said they do, but it's on June 12th.

I couldn't get up the nerve to make a segway to related topics.

Ugh. I hate myself.

Hah.

Polyvore

Yesterday, I discovered polyvore.com. It's totally amazing. Seriously. You can make collages of pictures of shit you like. It's addictive. I know I could do that already by myself by hand or on the computer with corel or photoshop, but it's easy this way, and there are sooooo many pictures of things from a ton of places on the internet. Check it, folks. I designed a couple valentines with it, so be excited, because I might post them on that day of the year.

I'm not sure yet if I should be excited or depressed about Valentine's Day this year.

Hmm. We shall see.

Everything is Temporary

He might be getting his diploma in February.

That diploma is the main reason he's even in the states.

I think that when he gets it, he might leave.

Everything will turn beige again.

Everything is temporary. 

Yeah. That's it.

Does Not Work Well with Others

At the pound, on every dog's kennel there's a card that gives a little bio about them. It says things like name, gender, age, whether they were surrendered or a caught stray, breed, and temperment(are they good with kids, do they play well with other dogs, etc.). If I were a dog at the pound, the paper card on my kennel would probably say "Does not work well with others." I never have worked well with others, really. Somehow that doesn't sound right though. Sometimes, especially now, it feels like my card should say "Not worked well with by others," or "Others do not work well with her." 

We're doing group projects on Shakespeare plays in AP English right now. My group is doing Macbeth. And by "my group," I mean mostly me, and partially two other group members out of the five of us. I spent about five hours on this project tonight, I just finished. I feel like I can't rely on anybody to do what they need to do. I guess it's kind of a good thing though, because as a result of my not believing other people would do their jobs, I prepared by starting to do their parts on my own, just incase they didn't come up with jack shit. And what do you know...that's exactly what went down.

My fingers are fucking shaking right now, my eyes are stinging, my mind is spinning, and I feel like my body is deteriorating. I just get so stressed and angry when people are that unreliable. I mean, I don't do a lot of my schoolwork, and my grades are disgusting, but when I'm in a group for a project, I will not let other people down, because that's just kind of a fucked up thing to do. 

Fuck this shit, I'm going to bed. I probably won't be able to sleep for a few hours, but damn it, whatever, I'll think of someway to put my brain on pause.

No, no I won't. I never will. AAAGH. My mind will never slow down, never rest, never shut the fuck up.

Oh shit, I literally feel like I'm spinning.

Goodnight.

By the way, Mika texted me back finally this morning. Apparently he's kind of been on lock down, because Thais's parents found the bottles in the garage, so he and Thais are sort of grounded right now. It's a relief knowing he's not just totally bored with me or something.

GoodnightX2

Rising and Falling Thoughts, continued.

My favorite piece of punctuation is the ellipsis. I don't know, I just love it...hah I didn't even mean to use it just then. Maybe I overuse it, but I don't care, because it's perfect for so many things.

I totally have a girl-crush on Lady Gaga right now. It's my goal to hook up with somebody to the beat of "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich." Preferably a certain Brazilian boy...oh God, somebody put me out of my misery...except for not, because this kind of misery can feel so damn good sometimes.

I wish I knew how to make really cool cameo jewelry, like the antique necklaces/brooches, etc. I'm just totally in love with cameos right now. Old stuff is so cool.

On his Orkut profile, Mika has a couple pictures of me and him. I've been trying to translate all the comments that people have made on them from Portuguese to English, but they really just don't make sense. Portuguese is a fucking weird language. I like it a lot, but there are some truly bizarre sounds in the words. I love it when Mika is talking super fast in Portuguese, like when he's talking to his mom back in Brazil over Skype on his webcam. And he'll turn his laptop so that the webcam will be on both of us, and his mom can see me. She's so cute, and she likes me, which makes me really happy. I guess she'd like any girl he was with though, because she doesn't support his liking guys. >_>

Speaking of Mika, I texted him when I left school today asking what he's doing Friday night, and he hasn't texted me back. 

Oh good God, I don't know what to do with myself.

My heart keeps changing with the music, but one thing stays the same.

ShamWow + Snuggie?

WHAT IF...

Late, one cold, stormy night...

Some mad scientist was doing whatever mad scientists do in his creepy secret underground laboratory...

And ALL OF THE SUDDEN...

The television in the corner turns on BY ITSELF...

Playing the infamous...

SNUGGIE COMMERCIAL...

So the mad scientist turns off the TV and keeps on doing mad scientist stuff...

And then, ALL OF THE SUDDEN...

The television in the corner turns on by itself AGAIN...

Playing the infamous...

SHAMWOW COMMERCIAL...

And then there's a huge crazy burst of lightning and thunder...

And the mad scientist laughs really loudly and maniacally and sinisterly...

Because he has just thought to...

COMBINE THE SHAMWOW AND THE SNUGGIE.

PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT.

Little Girl

You hate me.

You hate me, 

because of stupid shit

that happened forever days ago.

Stupid shit that had happened before,

has happened since then,

and will happen time and time again.

I guess I was special. 

You super-sized that hissy-fit

for me.

Not for the others,

just me.

You didn't throw a hissy-fit

when you did it yourself

to somebody else.

Why is that?

Oh, yes,

All apologies,

I forgot–

Because you are the

Victim.

You are a

Martyr,

because you have cried.

Tears are not a sacrifice, 

Little girl.

Tears are part of life.

You're nothing special

just because you cry.

God, you're like that fat baby in the grocery store

screaming and wailing and blubbering away

because you didn't get it your way.

Because your mommy dearest

wouldn't get you some hydrogenated treat.

Well let me tell you,

You fat little baby,

You are not entitled to it.

To anything.

You are not some fucking queen.

Cry, 

Little girl,

cry,

cry away.

Eventually,

Everybody will kiss you

and hug you

and tell you you were right

and I was wrong.

That he was "stolen" from you.

Guess what,

young lady.

People are not objects.

They are not cushy dolls

to drool on in your sleep.

They are not your possessions,

Not yours to be stolen.

This is not a game

of "finders, keepers,"

And the fact that you "saw him first"

entitles you to nothing,

no rights to ownership.

The truth is, you didn't see him first.

You saw him before me,

but not first.

He didn't come into existence

Upon your first seeing him.

You don't think about that though.

You don't think about people in those terms.

You think about people only in terms

of your life.

And you think you deserve to do that...

Because you are the

Victim.

Because you are a

Martyr,

Because you have cried.

Tears are not a sacrifice,

Little girl,

Tears are a part of life.

You are nothing special

just because you cry.

Dang. That was longer that I expected it would be when I started writing it.

I could say oh so very much more.

But I won't.

Not for now, at least.

Oh well.

Deuces, all.

Rising and Falling Thoughts.

Chris, your new girlfriend should stop hitting the cigs and start hitting the toothbrush. Oh yeah, and it really aggravates me that you recorded a song called "Hannah's Tits" and posted it on your band's website. It's a good thing you wear such tight pants. Hopefully the damage it will do to your sperm count will be enough to keep you from ever procreating.

I re

ally want some dark purple plumish colored nail polish, but I can't find just the right shade.

My mom told me I wouldn't be so cold all the time if I gained some weight. I asked her how much weight, and she said ten pounds or so at least. Fuck that shit, I'd rather not walk around looking preggers all the time.

I really love eating baker's chocolate. It's totally underrated. Seriously, just eat it plain, it's fantastic.

I just got into Guilford College like forty-five minutes ago. Now I have to decide whether to go there or UNC-G. I'm leaning toward Guilford. They're giving me almost fourteen thou, and Megan's there, which pretty much guarantees happiness. Minus the "pretty much." :)

I'm trying to find bloggers I know, but it isn't very easy, seeing as there is no search engine...which is stupid...and frustrating... -_-

Does it seem immature to use emoticons or whatev

er they are on here? I hope not. I don't want to have to take a picture of my face and post them every time I make an expression that I want to express online. So if you think they're immature, then fuck you.

I've been making REALLY stupid grammatical errors lately. I'm slipping. I hate it.

The Obama girls are sooo cute. I hope that one day my adopted children will be that cute.

I've been doing alright with my initiative to not initiate discussion between me and him. No effect so far. Last night he was online for a good while, and he logged off without talking to me at all. 

I went to bed last night listening to "Sleep" by The Dandy Warhols. It was very appropriate. However, after trying it, I have decided that I don't like trying to go to sleep with my iPod playing. It's awkward and I'm afraid I'll break it somehow.

The Brazilian Miss World finalist died after having her hands and feet amputated in an attempt to save her life from necrosis. Necrosis is the rapid deadening of tissue, and is caused by septicemia. I read about it on Perez Hilton. He said that apparently septicemia is the tenth leading cause of death in the US, killing about 800,000 in the US every year.

Now I'm really afraid of septicemia.

And necrosis.

I don't think I'd be a very good amputee.

Or dead person, for that matter.

In Lauterbach hab' ich mein' Strumpf verlor'n...

My mum found a website with some pictures of Lauterbach, Germany. Lo and behold, there were a couple pictures of my grandparents' house! It was a nice memory jog, and so I decided to do a little post on this wonderful little town, best known for its famous garden knomes and its "theme song," "In Lauterbach hab' ich mein' Strumpf verlor'n." It means "I lost my sock in Lauterbach," and it's really weird. But I'll go into that later I suppose.

First of all, our house! 

There was a closer picture of it, but for some reason blogger is being retarded and not uploading it. The house is somewhere around 100 years old. It's so adorable(it's the one in the middle of the picture, with the pink flower boxes). It's filled with this 

super super old crazy religious 

paraphernalia from like mon

asteries and churches that my grandfather's parents or grandparents(I forget which) collected around Germany. 

Oh, and our street is really cute. It was even on postcards in gift shops there. All the streets in the town are cobblestone.

I'm bored, I'll finish this post later. Time to make myself a french bread pizza. Yum. 

I Really Should Stop

I really should stop obsessing over him. That's what will make me lose him. That's what made me lose T all those years ago. It's part of the bipolar thing...I hate it. People say you can't love at a young age or whatever. It's different when you're bipolar. My heart is so, so full of passion. When I "like" somebody, I REALLY like them, and it's so painful, because they never like me back.

And then...in the rare case that one of them actually does like me back...I fall out of it in a matter of weeks. It's like...I thought that they could be something for me that they couldn't. I thought they could fill the hole in my heart that...he...left behind. God, and I hurt people on the way. I really do. But I'm so pathetically desperate. I'm not desperate in the sense that many girls are towards boys...I just want to have peace. I want to rest. I want to know that whatever happens, I have something in my life to be happy about. Somebody. I want badly to not hurt people, but my mind won't stop, it won't stop! It's like...it's like I've got something in my head, some living thing, eating away at me, writhing inside of me, and it hurts like nothing else, and it NEVER STOPS hurting. It's the kind of pain that will make you do almost ANYTHING to escape it. Even if it's just for one or two weeks.

It may be selfish...it IS selfish...but it pushes me out of control! At least I know the people I've hurt will bounce back. At least I know that most of them will never know this pain. Sure, it would make it easier for them to understand me if they did, but I don't want that for them. I want them to be able to live like I can't, and that's give and take. I may go out with somebody that somebody else likes. They would have done the EXACT same thing to somebody else, and for half the reason. Because they're so young. They really think that it's the end of the world when they don't get what they want. They're fucking babies mostly, in that way. They don't get something they want, some transitory desire, and they through a hissy fit, a tantrum, and upset everything around them.

But maybe that's best.

Maybe that's best for them, because tantrums end. Tantrums end, and they're happy again. That makes it more alright that they don't get what they want. That I have what they want instead. 

I don't have what they want.

They don't want this.

They don't understand that pain is the minority in their lives, and they're elastic. The pain passes for them, and they bounce back to their normal lives, their majority.

Whatever the antithesis of pain is––that's my minority. My happiness, or peace, at least, whatever it is. It passes quickly for me, and then I bounce back to my majority; pain. 

My life is a photo's negative of theirs.

And it's best for them that way.

My Brazilian Boy Wonder

Where do I start? There are so many ways I could describe him. He's got one of the most striking faces I've ever seen in person. He doesn't like the way he looks, he's so critical of himself. It's ridiculous. If only he could see himself through my eyes. I feel so lucky to have this beautiful creature in my life. Ugly, annoying little me. For the third time in my life, I feel like I am actually somebody's first choice as a friend, which is astounding to me. 

I spent Monday night and Tuesday night at his house this week. Thais's parents, his "step-parents"(but not really, it's weird and confusing), were out of town, as usual. Naturally, there was partying. Monday night, a lot of people came over. Two bottles of...beverage...later, Mika and I were lying on the carpet upstairs just laughing and talking and drinking impressive

amounts of water. Talking led to laughing, laughing led to cuddling, cuddling led to kissing, and kissing led to full-on making out on the floor. It was fairly brief, only a minute or two. I was sure it wouldn't happen again that night. I was wrong. We eventually went to bed. We slept in Thais's parents' bed, because people sleeping over needed Mika's room. Before going to bed, I looked at the time on my cell phone. 2:59. I told Mika, and he was instantly excited. Mika saw "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" awhile back, and apparently in the movie 3:00 am is the "devil's time." That's when bad things happen or something. So Mika likes to stay up until three. He says it scares him a ton, but it's also exciting. It was three am, the "devil's time," when we crawled under the covers, lights off, shivering, space heater turned onto high next to the bed. We talked for probably an hour or so. Then there was silence. But the good kind of silence. The kind of silence where you can feel everything around you, like a shark in the water, feeling every movement through even the tiniest currents and ripples. Everything is sensation, your feelings are your thoughts. Our faces were so, so close, our lips one or two inches apart. Obviously, it happened again. It happened again for most of fourty-five or so minutes. And then we fell asleep. We fell asleep with our faces so close that we 

were breathing oxygen mixed with the carbon dioxide expelled from the other's lungs. We were breathing each other's breath. Isn't that amazing? Maybe the carbon dioxide made me kind

 of light-headed and giddy, but I swear, I floated into sleep. And it was the best kind of sleep. Every night, I go to bed with the intention of going to sleep. I try to sleep, and I wait for sleep. That night, sleep came by itself. We both fell asleep at the same time, and the next morning we didn't even remember falling asleep; life had just...melted into sleep. Natural sleep. As wonderful as that sleep was, I still woke up throughout the night...err...morning, technically. Every time I woke up I'd see that he was still there, and remember again how happy I was. 

Okay so I have been typing this for like an hour now, and I'm ready to stop. Plus, the gray crescent-moon next to his name just turned into a green circle. I'll bet he won't talk to me. I'm really trying to not talk to him. Yesterday I was bad at that, I think I fucked up a bit. We shall see.

By the way, Battlestar Galactica was faaabulous. >_<

Trying Again

So yeah, I'm trying again.

Obviously I won't keep this up this time.

The only blog I've been able to keep consistently was that Xanga I updated religiously for maybe a year and a half. That was then, this is now.

Now, I hide that shit on the inside. I think it's better that way. I don't really care about many people at school knowing the "real me." I have people who know me, and I know them, and we love each other very, very much. I'm not looking for quantity, I'm looking for quality. And let's face it; there isn't exactly an abundance of quality human beings in this world. Not by my ridiculous standards, at least.

I don't really feel like doing a huge about me thing right now. Too much shit in my background, I've retold it all countless times to therapists, friends, blogs, Microsoft Word, etc. I'll write about that all gradually I guess(as if I'll write in this blog over a period of more than one or two weeks). Mostly about the people in my life. The characters that my life revolves around. They are probably the most relevant to my day-to-day life. My fucking BORING day-to-day life. More like minute-to-minute, really...

So here's what's going on right now.

I'm sitting on my computer, like usual, being a total fatass loser. Whatever. Also as usual, I have another window open on facebook, lurking to the side of this one. I have just enough of facebook showing to watch the little minimized chat thing in the corner with the name "Mika Schakowoski" on it. Next to his name there's a little grey crescent moon thing. That means he's "idle" on facebook chat. Fuck my life. I've been saying that a lot lately. Fuck my fucking life. 

He likes boys a good deal better than he likes girls. That's my biggest problem right now. He says that he's "probably more gay than [he thinks he is]." He's probably right. I adore him. He adores me. I am never so confident in saying that somebody adores me, but he does. As a friend. Friend.

The feelings I'm having for him tend to put the "end" in "friend."

Maybe this would all be easier if he didn't have that unbelievably endearing Brazilian accent...

if he didn't smell so spicy and clean and wonderful...

if he didn't have that little gap between his two front teeth...

if he hadn't introduced me to Yelle...

if he didn't have those high polish cheekbones that he hates...

if we didn't watch ShamWow commercials together at three in the morning...

if he hadn't made me bagels and coffee without even asking, just knowing...

if we had ever needed two cups, two bottles of water, two meals between us, instead of one...

if we hadn't fallen asleep with our faces three inches apart.

I'm getting tired of this "if..." format. Next entry, I'll just talk about him I suppose, and how crazy beautiful the boy is.

I have to go watch Battlestar Galactica now.

Seriously though, I look forward to this shit ALL week long, and in the season premiere last week, we found out that Ellen's the final cylon, and they found Earth, and Starbuck found her corpse, and all this other stuff.

Yeah, I've been freaking out.

I can't wait to text Carl after the episode's over.

SO SAY WE ALL.