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The Dream Is Over?

Midnight. I should be in bed right now but I have nothing to wake up for. Alone, again, and lost. It's getting harder and harder to find good distractions. It's funny how the life and the love you've worked so diligently to build and defend and nurture and preserve can chip away so effortlessly... Schadenfreude funny, I guess.

So the other night I went out to a friend's birthday party. Oh, what an experience that was. So many, many tears and none of them mine. At one point I was splitting my time comforting not only this poor emo child sitting on a table crying over some girl, but also assisting the birthday girl, who was sobbing on the ground in the corner over some boy. After she calmed down I went to go help out said emo child. We talked about life and relationships until six in the morning. Six in the morning, yes. The birthday girl had fled (stumbled out of, I presume) her apartment hours before to offer herself to some boy. And here I was, my night to get drunk I end up playing the mother. I did it because the kid desperately needed someone to listen to him and to make him feel worth listening to. Who am I kidding I did too, just not him. A few of his friends were sweet enough to stick around to make sure he got back safely. So at the end of the night I tidied up her apartment and gave everybody a ride home, instead of sticking to my original plans to get trashed and pass out on the lovely hostess' couch. There's always a next time for that.

Oh goodness. I could be out right now. I could be in someone's arms right now. I could be anywhere right now. But I'm here. Here waiting for you. You, who are out right now. You, who are God-knows-where right now. You, who will not return for many more hours only to leave without the slightest sign of affection or contentment or life. But I will still be here, because nothing else matters as much to me as you do.

Where are the angels?

Well, I just don't know what to do with myself. I don't even know what I'm good at anymore, or if I ever was good at anything to begin with. I need a job but only have a month available to work (thank you jury duty, Scotland), and nobody's going to go to that sort of trouble to hire me for such a short period of time (thank you economy, my lack of qualifications). Then how else can I make the most out of summer? It looks like the most practical alternative is to remain a hermit and figure out what I want to do post-graduation, determine which colleges/programs I want to apply to, and prepare for the GRE. It's nice to have the free time to do all of this, but I'd really much rather be working and paying my rent. Being unemployed makes me feel like a loser with nothing to offer anyone. I just don't have the motivation to do anything anymore. Is there a point?

Scotland was beautiful. I'm not sure if I would ever want to live there, though. Their major cities hardly measure up to some of our larger towns, and everywhere is basically the middle of nowhere. Maybe if I had someone to enjoy it with, it wouldn't seem so small and desolate. Fell in love with another tour guide named Alexander. One of the few boys to hit on me that I actually would have dated, were I in the position to date. Proposed marriage right in front of my parents, no less. And stopped in the middle of his other tour to say 'hi' when my dad and I walked by his group. Cheesy, but charmingly adorable. Fallonesque but much, much shorter and with a polished Edinburgh accent. It made the trip but broke my heart. I wish all boys were that sweet and energetic.

If anything, this trip made me realize how much there is in the world and how much of it I'm missing out on. I need a change in my life, but I don't know what steps to take in order to make it better. I need strength, I need courage, and I need direction. But where can I find those, if not in Glendale? California?

...the passion that enlightens, and stills, and cultivates, gone...

I hate the economy

I'm waiting. Waiting for my dinner to cook, waiting for something good to come on t.v., waiting for my phone to ring, waiting for the rest of summer to fly by me and lend my life substance. Even in the season most suffused with light I find myself enmeshed in darkness. Maybe I would have a better life plan if I never became an English major. What the hell are you supposed to do with that, anyways? Can I make a living off of sounding like a pretentious douche?

Let's tally up the scores, since we have nothing better to do:
Unemployment: 1
Me: 0

Poverty: 21
Me: 0

Frustration: 1
Me: 0

Boredom: 1
Me: 0


College Degree: 0
Me: -1

Well, it's my first official week of summer. I don't want my grades from last quarter. Why do the most important projects and finals happen all at once?? Goodbye, magna cum laude!

I need a job. One with reasonable pay that won't turn my hair whiter or give me an ulcer. My shopping habits desperately need funding, especially since I realized how much I need a new pair of everything (and that Hobo shoulder bag in cognac won't hurt, either). I also need friends in the area mature enough to understand how overrated college life can be, but that's asking too much and makes me sound kind of like a bitch.

I can't wait to be in Scotland. Who cares that it's with my parents, there is no way I could ever pass up an opportunity like this. It looks like we will be exploring different rural areas across the isles, though. Oh well. I'm in no position to complain. I don't know if this is my Dad being cheap or my Dad realizing all of his dreams, but either way I'm happy for him and grateful that I was invited to tag along. If only the exchange rate wasn't so horrible...

But I must have patience, always.
Patience --> patiens --> patior, "to suffer"
What was that? Oh, I just did the fucking math.

Screw this, I'm going to Devry

God dammit I hate the GRE. It looks exactly like the SAT but seems deceptively easier. I haven't taken a math class since high school and haven't had any trouble doing the problems in the practice tests. Probably because it's basic algebra from the 8th grade. It's so damn hard to focus, especially since I don't know what these scores are for yet. What am I going to do when I graduate? Where am I going to go? What kind of jobs do I qualify for? How am I going to pay rent next year when I don't have refund checks coming my way every quarter?

I'm absolutely clueless. I have no idea where to even start, because I don't know what I want to do or where I want to go. I have no professional aspirations apart from making a lot of money and traveling.

A master's in English would be nice, if terminal master's degree programs existed in accredited universities. I don't want to teach, I know that much. A p.h.d. would not only require a great deal of time, energy, and funding, but would also put me on the track for a career in a field I have no interest in. Plus I'll be damned if I have to relearn Latin or Spanish. So why can't I just study literature and continue doing what I'm doing for another two years?

Fuck this is frustrating. I need a job. A real one.

Some things...

Because I just don't feel like working on a paper right now. Not that I ever do, or ever would.

Stop with the skinny jeans, please. With or without the babydoll top (ugh, babydoll tops), they are not flattering. The look doesn't work unless you are Holocaust thin. It's not punk, it's not indy, it's high school. They need to refrain from wearing them too.

Stop with the leggings, now. Similar to aforementioned fashion disaster, they make you look top heavy. Yes, I wore them under skirts when the look started to gain momentum three years ago but have since repented for my ways. No photographs were taken and no damage to my reputation was done. What else am I supposed to do with pale, skinny chicken legs which have only gotten whiter and bonier? Haha bonier. Oh that's right, wear jeans with a slight flare and hide my shame. I was on facebook looking at pictures and thought to myself, "Goddamn, I'm bony." But I digress. Leggings are not pants, and should not be treated as an equivalent to pants. They are the spandex shorts of the 21st century. Just wait a few years and the shame will soon catch up to you. You did not just go work out. Nobody's fooled.

Babydoll tops make almost everyone look bigger than they really are. It's not a dress, it's not a glorified bag, it's a shirt.

Other than that, it's been a relaxing quarter. Got an internship with a media super-giant and on the director's board with almost no effort. Internship doesn't start until January and I can't wait. Also being hounded by Americorps to teach inner city children in low-income schools after graduation. We'll see about that. While the salary, full medical + dental benefits, and master's program is enticing, I'm not sure if I want to deal with kids for such a huge chunk of my day. Who has that much energy? Oh well I guess whatever happens, happens.

Crap, grad school worries the fuck out of me. I should get on that. Eeek.

Fuck, I'm still poor.

The other night my mom came up to me and apologized for my childhood again, all the moving, stark poverty, etc., etc. I wanted to tell her that I never minded the shuffling around from house to house; I actually quite enjoyed it. It gave me hope - maybe the next place would be better. It also gave me an insatiable desire to travel, to leave everything and everyone simply for the sake of trying new things. I will never be happy staying in the same spot. I still don't understand how people manage living in the same house for whole chunks of their lives.

No, packing and unpacking, living out of boxes and sometimes garbage bags didn't cause me much childhood trauma. It was moving from school to school that hurt me the most. Having to deal with peers who could never understand my problems, my worries, my shame, who couldn't grasp the world outside of their uniformly decorous lives. Afflicted with physical/ emotional wanderlust, I forge a very lonely trail.

So, dilemma: a girl with whom I went to elementary school with for a good two years, one who didn't exactly get along with me, is leaving the state to go to school. Since then, she has befriended my older brother and his girlfriend and has apologized to me for being mean to me years ago. She's throwing a going away party. Out of three hundred plus friends on her Facebook, she invites myself, my brother, and one other girl from elementary school (who would never show up in a thousand years because she's Mother Theresa II). Question: Why am I invited? Does she really want to get in touch with me after all these years, or does she want to have someone there to hang out with my brother since his girlfriend lives in New York? Since I plan on declining, should I offer to hang out with her sometime before she leaves? Does that look desperate/weird on my part? I know she has at least enough LA scene friends to keep her busy, so what is she doing inviting me to her super secret Facebook party? Can she just message me something along the lines of, "No offense, but I invited you to fill up space/ confuse you/ because I'm different and Indy" and clear this whole thing up for me?

This is why I spend my lunch breaks in my car. I need to stop over analyzing awkward social situations. But Goddamn, that came out of nowhere!

Worrisome elf

Now that I am home my priorities have changed:

1. Pay rent
2. Earn money for future rents
3. Pay bills
4. Earn money for future bills
5. Buy furniture
6. Earn money to buy furniture with
7. Sleep, etc.

Work is alright. Hopefully the larger sales will translate into an okay paycheck, despite the huge cutback in hours. After all these years working around the clock, I now have a part time job and a good chunk of free time with nothing to do. When I need the money the most, I've got nothing in line. Fuck me. I knew this trip would bite me in the ass.

Customers are better. Nicer too. Older clientele who appreciate the extra mile we go to and happily pay the higher price for finer quality clothing. Too bad a lot of it is so ugly. I still miss my old job a little bit, though. The drive sucks, especially since gas isn't exactly cheap nowadays. Blarrrgh.

Oh well. I think I'll live on love. At least this pricey new life makes me happy. We'll be fine as long as we budget. I'll probably have to get a job during the school year, but if that's what I have to do right now then I'll do it. Maybe it'll even relieve some of the stress from school. Maybe.

Fuck, I'm lazy. And hot. And tired.

Who am I kidding this was never the life I chose. She was right. I give and give and give but never get anything back. And I’m tired of it. I was tired of it a year ago and I’m tired of it today.

My roommate got raped. In so many words. What a sweet, sweet girl. So naïve and trusting of the world. Something was bound to happen the day she took that first step outside.

What can you do? What can you even say? I took her around L.A. for a day, to show her what she’s missed in her sheltered life. I don’t know if I did it to make her feel better or to validate that I’m a good person. What difference does it make? She seemed happy. All I know is that I did for her exactly what I would have wanted done for me if I were in that position. At least the effort was there. She’s the only roommate I’ve ever really tried to hang out with. I wonder if she noticed…

It doesn’t seem fair that everyone else has it easier. Is it? I work harder than anyone else I know just to maintain my grades. I’ve sacrificed so much for this, and it doesn’t pay off. What’s the point of studying? I’ve lost so much of my life being by myself.

What am I going to do about work? The new Americana is apparently robbing Nordstrom of all its high end business. People are quitting left and right. Hopefully Santa Anita will take me. Hopefully.


I wrote that a while ago, before my apartment had an internet connection and I decided to post it before I leave for my trip. Currently, I have plane tickets but no hotel reservations, no idea where to go, no idea how I will manage the eight hour time difference, and most importantly, no job in line for when I get back. I leave tomorrow. God help me. I wish I had the energy and drive of my earlier years. Maybe then I would get something done.

The apartment is fine. The commute is not. I wish we could afford to decorate it more. But really, it's such a nice place for the location and the price. We'll manage. We always do. Everyone is so proud of us...

Apartment hunting means no homework done.

I have stalkers. And I know it. But I don't care.

Because I am above them and their pettiness. So lick it up while I'm in this generous mood.

Funny.

Dead Wings

Sometimes when I'm sitting on my balcony, I miss Riverside. Not the school, not the failures, not the tragedy of a city, but the porch. Because no one here will do what I do. It's just me now, watching the flickering emptiness of the hills as my own light dwindles and turns to ash. Even the bitch sessions here are nowhere near as refreshing. Or the spying for that matter, because who cares?

I baked a cake yesterday. There's one piece left, only because no one wants to be the asshole who takes the last bite or washes the plate. More so clean the plate than uphold this facade of consideration we have going around here. I can't wait to get out of this lease and finally, for the first time in years, not live out of boxes, Ziplocks, and duffel bags.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened and I'm sorry I can't give you much comfort. You went a lot further than I ever expected you to, damn further than I've ever gone. The best I can do is promise to listen and help you forget. What else is there to do? You're too trusting of others. So much to learn...

But who am I to protect you?