Soccer practice

I found this tonight and thought it was hillarious! Still haven't written any poetry yet........maybe I can use this!

I don't want to title this one

I feel like this day didn't happen, and yet it's actually still happening. I got up at 8:30 and worked on stuff until 1:00--when I had class. After class, Roommate and I went to Panera for dinner. I'm sick of Panera, but it's closest to the apartment without being fast food for Firehouse subs. So we go there. For about 70% of the time that roommate and I are physically in the building, there was this overweight 30-something man pacing the floor of the restaurant while talking on his phone via his too-hot-to-trot Bluetooth ear bud piece. I hated him the whole time I was in the building! He had a stomach so large that it would it certainly impair any attempt to pee standing up. His hair was shellacked firmly to his head. I'm sure he was aware that he was annoying every living thing around him, but for whatever reason, felt compelled to continue his workday at 6:00 PM over a strawberry Danish. If at the end of every day I feel mentally exhausted from all of the thumbnails and bad ideas, I can at least sleep soundly knowing that I will never be like that fat fat man in Panera.



I've decided to stop trusting the weather information provided by my custom google-homepage. According to
weather-google, today was suppose to be 50 degrees. But it was much colder than 50 degrees. Today was cold, wet, and cloudy. It was the perfect setting for a Jennifer Jason-Leigh movie. On days like this I like to pretend that I'm in a thriller mystery movie where I'm being chased and have to rely on my intuition to out smart the chasers. Eventually, I end up in a high speed chase through the streets of any given city. The only thing is my car isn't really a "car-chase" kind of car. It is for this reason that I miss my 1997 Dodge Intrepid. Now that was a good "car-chase" car.



I'd like to take this moment to give a little shout out to my mom for finally sending me some of my Christmas presents! They arrived today--Styrofoam peanuts and all. Maybe in another almost-month I'll get the rest of them :)

I am very thirsty now. So I will go to the laundry room and get a Mountain Dew.

38 days later...

I typically get bored easily when reading about other people's relationship problems. So if that's not your scene--you should wait another 38 days for another post!

But I need to get something off my chest:

I have been single for seven years. Yup--SEVEN years. I had always thought that my 20's are a time for self-reflection and a time to "figure myself out". This has always been the excuse I give myself and other people if the topic of relationships come up. I always pity those who marry early and vow to myself that I will not marry until I am in my 30's (provided that the federal government removes the stick from their ass and will let me legally do it). But upon further reflection of my happy single hood I've found that it has very little to do with self-reflection, and everything to do with fear.

In its most basic form I fear rejection--bla bla bla who doesn't!? But given certain events from my not-too-distant past, the word rejection doesn't even come close to quantifying what it is I fear. In other words, there are so many other emotions and meanings attached to the word rejection--it's complex and dependent on so many varying factors that I don't even know that I could map them all out if I tried.

So here's a recap of a personal conversation I'll have with myself--also called lies that I tell myself when no one else is around...

"Things are fine, you're trying to force it, just relax and let love find you--sure there are some lonely times, but everyone gets lonely. You're not the only one. Just hang in there and keep doing what you're doing."

The key to this lie is the part where I tell myself to "keep doing what I'm doing" Here's what I'm doing--I stare at guys that I think are cute--I don't talk to them, I don't smile at them. I stare blankly while I completely abandon all sense of my small-talking talent and witty sense of humor. I automatically feel inferior, inadequate, and I feel like an idiot for not being able to chat up some cute guy. Then I run through the never-ending list of why he won't like me:

I'm too mainstream
Not mainstream enough
I don't have enough hair on my head
I have too much hair on my head
I shop at retail clothing stores too much
I don't shop at retail clothing stores enough
I don't have a six pack anymore
I'm not funny enough
I'm too funny
My eyelids are too big
My forehead is too big
My bottom teeth aren't straight
My breath might smell
I'm too liberal and artsy
I'm not liberal or artsy enough
and so on and so on and so on and so on and so on...

So what the fuck? Really. What the fuck do I do? I know that something needs to change. I need to develop the testicular fortitude to at least smile at guys that I think are cute--a simple nod hello or even "wass'up". But when the situation arises when a simple nod hello is more than enough to express interest, I completely abandon all rational thought, and up going through the list and starring like a dead gay zombie. Furthermore--I look desperate. But I guess I am desperate. Because sometimes--it really sucks when you're alone.