the girl with hot pink streaks.
Wednesday. 7.13.11 11:45 pm
I once knew this person who didn't cut people out of his life when they tried to bring him down or act sarcastically towards him. He would respond coldly and unapologetically, not defending his actions or questioning them, but rather letting that cold, unmoving response say everything: "Your opinion has no effect on me. Who are you to make me feel bad."
And, of course he would never say just that, because he's far too bright and self-directed. But that's what it really means. The only time it ever happened to me, I straightened up and looked at my life from a different perspective. I actually started being NICER to people and keeping my lips zipped.
I blush even talking about this, because he's a part of my past, and I don't especially like to think about people who have fallen behind in my life, especially those who have changed me so noticeably. I remember that, when I first started hiking and playing sports, I did it because I was interested in a guy, and HE liked hiking (the exercising sort of just came along for the ride). I actually saw him, tonight, for the first time in years, and I felt embarrassed, in my Vibram Five Fingers, standing in front of a grocery store conveyor belt filled with fruits and veggies. Mostly because I know he's a huge part of the reason it wasn't filled with fattier foods, part of the reason I wasn't wearing flip flops. I know some of it is just filling in parts of my interests I haven't explored--part of why I always take something different in my college studies, whether it be Biology (next semester) or Microeconomics (I rather like economics classes, now)--but...it still makes me feel rather odd, when I can point at someone and say, you know, "This person made my life significantly better, and then we abruptly stopped speaking."
Somehow I lost the balance between modesty and knowing my own worth, though. That's my point, I suppose; the first person I mentioned was kind of a ham, but somehow always still modest, while never forgetting his worth. I remember myself back in ninth grade as the girl who--quite smoothly--made a guy remove his hand from her shoulder once or twice, who wasn't afraid to make people feel like scum for trying to put her down, who was brave enough to tell someone she liked them without any sort of inclination that the feeling was mutual.
Essentially, I remember myself simply refusing to settle, within reason, for anything less than exactly what I wanted.
Perhaps that refusal needs to be reawakened.
This should explain the honest and emotional nature of my public post:
Me: And I nap regularly.
Me: I hate napping, but I do.
Me: I need an ankle massage.
Me: Don't make fun of me.
Me: I'M EMOTIONAL.
the ginga bee-ah is nee-ahly clee-ah.
Sunday. 7.10.11 8:37 pm
"And can you please NOT count down? I hate the countdown. Just punch it through."
The guy in front of me glanced up and laughed. There I was, a nineteen-year-old young woman, sitting beside a teddybear on the piercing chair at Claire's. The one hole is visibly lower than it's supposed to be (and it wasn't marked there, I don't know why she pierced so low), but otherwise I'm liking holes four and five.
a grey scarf and feeling old.
Tuesday. 6.28.11 1:37 am
Saturday. 6.25.11 8:09 pm
Hours of sleep I got last night: 1.
Hours of work today: 7.25.
Hours of homework: 4.
I added a side of French fries to my order of shrimp with vegetables because my past self felt guilty for putting my present self through this. Kind of like when drunk people leave themselves food, water, and pain killers for the next morning.
I left a party early, last night, to make sure I got a good head start on my homework (the stuff that's due tonight). It was then that I realized my growing hunger and stopped off at the grocery store by my house for some needed supplies. Unfortunately, a guy's car had stalled in the parking lot, and no one was stopping to help except one other guy...
So, basically, I didn't get any of my homework done, last night.
It's about half done, now...it's just that my instructor has started making the discussions research-heavy, and let me tell you, there is a reason I (tentatively) chose a mathematics major. We don't do much research. We're like, Ooh, this idea could be expanded on, let me solve something and make money off of it. And then we do. It's a simpler life.
I mean, I'm taking an English class next semester (I would end up dropping it in the first week, were it not required), which might help me with essay-writing, but man, research...
So does macroeconomics, right now, but that's just because I'm a nitwit and don't read the chapters at a steady pace throughout the week. And this isn't a normal week's worth of learning; this is a month in a semester, boiled down INTO one week. This is me learning a month's worth of information in four hours, on one hour of sleep.
I was made for college.
I have something else to talk about, but I'm about to go back to the homework, and that really can't wait. So, sorry in advance for my rapid blog-updating. I'll add fries to your shrimp and veggies order.
My grades come back instantly, since I'm doing all this online.
THEY WERE OF THE A PERSUASION.
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