i am a family mediating machine. who else would actually have a class in which they get to fight with their exhusbands, live with their new lesbian lovers and the children from their first marriage, AND get to make friends with diplomatic and heroic co-mediator? i love school. absolutely love it. all i gotta do is get through this make up work. i'm so close i can taste it. i wish bil cosby's class was more than once a week. sigh. J E L L.... O!

so yeah. one bad thing after another. i have come to the conclusion that i have the worst luck and the best foresight ever. i am well aware that things don't work out the way they do in fairytales... but i don't understand why people can't grow some balls and just be upfront with me. i can handle it. i've handled worse. i don't like feeling that people have to keep things from me. i am open communication's biggest fan.. but, yet again... i find myself trusting people that i really shouldn't. holding on to people who really could give a rat's ass about me.

i guess i have always assumed that people care and have a genuine interest in me and my well being because i have that genuine interest in people. call me crazy, but im really starting to get hurt that even though i respect almost everyone i know (unless, of course, there is good reason not to) it seems like no one shows me that same respect in return. people might be afraid and intimidated by me... but they still lie, cheat and hurt me without even a pinch of remorse. i'm scared that i am beginning to lose my faith.

i am really sick of not having anyone important in my life. my list of close friends has trickled down to a meer (shut up, i can't spell... we are aware) 2. it seems as though everyone else has just gotten too busy and cool for me. i mean, i know i have a calling-back phobia... but seriously, no one really knows me or whats going on with me anymore. i have lost all of my boyz (a gender neutral term for our purposes) from distance to drama, and well. i miss them. i miss having people who understand. it has really sucked these past few months not to have anyone who will hug me, whipe my tears off of my face and tell me that everything will be ok. and im not exaggerating. there is just no one who plays that role for me right now. and i'm hurting. there are the few people over the computer that express something of an interest for me and offer to listen. but typing all my whining and loneliness out to a screen of indifferent and monotone words doesn't accomplish it. human compassion is the best medicine inthe world... and the lack of it in my life explains why i am so sick.

i feel like i am dumping on the few people who will listen... and i don't want to because i definitely know how much it sux being everyone's therapist. i've never needed to confide in a bunch of people. i don't like spreading my issues all over the planet. and i mean, only like 10 people ever even look at my page... and they mostly only look for the pix of my hot friends and the sarcastic banter of the bitter club. so i highly doubt too many people will even read this. and if you do... and you feel compelled to try and make me feel better...please don't. i don't need people who don't ever talk to me to read some shit that makes them feel guilty to try and comfort me. that makes me feel dirty.

i just need a real connection with someone again. not just a fake, surface level pseudo interest in what is going on with everyone's lives. i need a friend. and i dunno where to find one. i feel like god has sentenced me to a life of social retardedness. I HATE THIS. I HATE BEING UNHAPPY.

yeah yeah, i know... then do something about it. but i don't have time. i am not a horrible wretch... i get my shit done... i go to work and school and keep my game face on. i don't have time, energy or fundage to party and go out. so i'll pass my time blogging about how lonely i am. and pray that someone somewhere will actually give a damn and maybe find something in here that they understand, appretiate and maybe carry with them.

my best friend. the only person who has made me cry out of joy this year.




And I wish you
Sunrays and Saturdays
Perfect starry nights
Sweet dreams and moonbeams
And a love that's warm and bright

Sunrays and Saturdays
Friendship strong and true
Oceans of blue and a room with a view
To live the life you choose

Great googly moogly.

Been a while, eh? Sorry, I haven't been in the sharing-myself mood lately. Basically been preoccupied with swimming in a pool of my bodily fluids trying to get better. I got really depressed while I was sick. Moreso than usual, I mean. Still not back up to par.

Whatever.

I like my brother a lot. He's just- i dunno- good to me. I can't wait till we grow up and have family get togethers and take big vacations to the beach and stuff during the summer.
Having vision....

It would be cool to live near MariB too. Heh. Maybe our kids will be best friends too.
It is plausable... she wants to stay near DC for her career... and I really like maryland. So who knows?

Yeah. Definitely watching too much trading spaces. Ready to have nice home with excellente neighbors. Doode. If the show is still around, we could so go on it. Man that would kick ass. But only if Vern designed my room and I got to work with Frank to decorate yours. And Ty. Of course, Ty.

OK- this blog makes no sense, so I'm just going to stop before I confuse anyone else.

I'm sick.

Not a good time for this. Cannot miss school. Have 14 hour days coming up, work work work and dentist appt to deal with.

Am bored with website. No motivation. Feel like huge turd. Is that how you spell turd? terd? No, definitely turd.

Trying not to be poopie. Sucky valentines day. Sucky school issues. Mucho pressuro with PB... first performance on friday or saturday. Scared. Lonely. Seems like I'm never not going to be screwed over. Seems like I keep getting shat on... no matter how hard I try and how much I put into things.

And now I am sick. And watching flipped on MTV.

People are stupid.
Want to have pity party.
But will not.

Want to beat something. hard.

Hey Baby is the most retarded song ever. Bad Gwen. Bad.

Sorry... haven't had any time to post. Still don't. So...

Today I saw the coolest guy on the planet. As I was leaving Key to go down to the Math building, this really attractive sk8er type boi cuts me off as we walk onto the mall.

At first... I was irritated...

But then!

I saw that he was the coolest guy ever. He had a shoulder bag (black, and with a few tasteful patches and buttons on it).
One of the patches read: "This is what a feminist looks like."

TELL ME HE IS NOT THE COOLEST GUY EVER?!?!?!

This is just tooo weird considering I had just come from english... where I was talking about my feminist definition paper... and yesterday got into a discussion with Abby about the Big V and Embracing the Cunt... and with Vday tomorrow with the Vagina Monologues... clitoris is in the air...

Yeah. I wish I had said something to him. I wish I was a guy even more now... just so I could be as cool as him.

Sometimes people really get to me.

I don't understand why they act the way they do... but even when I do... I feel helpless to do anything for them. I really want to help people feel better about their lives and get them through their struggles. I care a lot for people. Too much, I think, because I keep getting used, misinterpreted, disrespected and walked on because I'm trying to help. I don't want to stop. I don't want to be rude and shut people out. But I dunno how much more of this I can handle.

Hold on... Beverly just said the funniest thing... "Actin' like a bunch of butts."

Anyways. I guess I'm just torn because I can get so much happiness and pleasure and growth out of sharing with and helping people... but I can also get deeply hurt and upset out of them too. If I didn't risk the hurt... I wouldn't get the good. But damn, I haven't seen any of the good in a while.

When it rains... it pours. WHY WHY WHY?

Right, so I love long and drawn out arguments about nothing with someone who really doesn't get the point. Someone who just instists on talking and talking and talking until they turn me into the MEGA-BITCH. They egg me on and on... and then when I reach MEGA-BITCH status, they yell at me and tell me that I'm fucked up for getting mad.

If you don't want me to get mad... then don't push my buttons.

I used to just take everything... hold it all inside and maintain my, smiling, sarcastic, personable manner... but I'm kinda growing out of that phaze. I don't apologize for speaking my mind. I don't apologize for doing what I need to do to keep myself sane and honorable.

So stop blubbering around me, trying to get me to feel something for you. Stop trying to justify to me that I don't know you... and fuckin let me get to know you.

I cannot stand a leech. The worst thing you can do to me is become dependent and obsessive. I am not that cool. I want to be around people who are confident enough with themselves, BY THEMSELVES. So it's, like, refreshing when I see you.

Not draining and annoying.

OK, since I am at work in the OA office... I don't have FTP access. So this will eventually find its way to Dreams, but for now... enjoy. This is the first poem I have written this semester... thank god something finally got me thinking...
I'm already starting on a partner poem.


The scattered streetlights
encourage surrounding shadows
to fall all around me.

I walk-
Hands in my pockets
wondering how a shadow feels
walking around at night.

Shouldn't it be sleeping
Like its mother, the sun?
Its world is in the light


The moon has not yet
gained the love and approval
of the shadow

But to still find it wandering around
in displaced,
artificial lignt?


I keep walking
My pen's shadow is now awake too

My stride becomes slower
less balanced
awkward
And my shadow bumbles along
mocking my now-lazy movements

It's too warm to be january
and too light for me to be
writing at night as I walk alone
heading home

The sky looks bitter
a dull brown and red
like the sun hasn't really set yet

But it has
only it's reflections are left
to remind me
what i should be feeling
in the dark

The streetlights don't listen, though
they still insist on my shadow being present.
No matter how slow I walk.

My physical state
isn't flattering to my soul
My shadow does it real justice
i would rather see it
than my reflection in the mirror.

It is unwise for me to walk
alone in the pseudo dark of night
But stories my mind has already written
to myself
assure me that i will be safe


A dusty, stale sort of light
comes from the life of far away
Its distance is visible
not very inviting, but more flattering than the bright,
rude light that i walk under now

From far away I feel the water of the sky approaching
my walking actually approaches the oceans of the sky

I turn blindly into the clouds
the stale light of far away ishidden
And my words and shadow
get smeared in the rain


But i am still walking

I HAD A NESTOR SPOTTING!

This boi, who used to live on the computer, has not been seen for almost a month now... and has not been keeping up with his website. I know that some of us were getting worried. So, to prove he is still alive...here is the convo we had:

AmngStarz: DOODE
xnesteax: dude
AmngStarz: WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN
xnesteax: been doin shit
AmngStarz: shit?
AmngStarz: what exactly is shit?
AmngStarz: hmmmmmn?
xnesteax: heh
AmngStarz: so how u
xnesteax: me aiight
xnesteax: i gotta get goin... i'll give you a call sometime. lates
AmngStarz: byeee
xnesteax signed off at 1:22:00 PM.

Craziness. Miss you, Nestor!

Ugh.

Liz + Nancy + Mom + Mike = Bitternes x (Liz + Mike + Mom)

Liz + Mike + Magazines about Barbie Spears = Nasty looks from other waiting room peoplz

Dad's Recovery + Ignorant Nurse = Nancy getting to go see Dad FIRST (Refer to formula number 1)

(Dad + Mom) x Time in visiting = (Mike + Liz) dying slowly

Dad + Full-Length leg warmers = Man-ti-hoes

Liz + Card = Dad + Tears

Talk about your awkward formulas.

Liz+Mom+Nancy= HoLy BeGeeZes

Nancy + Mom= (Liz's Head + Table) x Infinity

Mom + Talking about when she was married to Dad = Nancy + Awkward Silence = Liz's Eyes + Floor

(Liz + Mom)Holding back compelling urge = Nancy's Face + Back of (Liz + Mom)Hands.

Liz + Gun + Head = POW

Not only do I have penis envy... but I now have website envy. It's not that I want to be a big, bad, buff (moderately speaking, of course) design guy, or dazzle the world with my layout and graphics excelletes... I just wanna put up something that, oh, I dunno... people might actually enjoy reading.
But no one will yell at me and give me a clue as to how I can make my site more interesting.
This was seriously getting to me that I couldn't really tell how many hits I was getting, or who exactly was doing the hitting, or that only 7 people have even bothered to sign my guest book... let alone give me some advice on sprucin up my site.
So lets connect my balls with your tongues and see what happens. I'm limp, unloved, and now truly bitter about this lack of interest.
In retaliation, I have a very simple plan. Screw you all and what you want on my site. I am just going to put a little bit of me up here and not be so paranoid anymore. Because it obviously doesn't matter to any of you all who do actually read this stuff.
In fact, I hit my page up more than all of you put together (this is not fully supported with mathematical figures, but oh just you wait). And I guess since I'm the one who writes, reads and rereads all of this self-absorbed babble... I should be consistent with my theme and really only care about myself.

And on that note, I am going to go lie down and struggle for hours to try and get sleep to want me. You'd think that at least sleep would come cuddle with me, nekkid, in my bed... alas, no, just one of the many ways God reminds me that he has an even dryer sense of humor than myself.

Interesting weekend. Had mucho funo. Met new people. Had my wheel of passion spun. Got into it with cheaters in beamers. Got harassed by a parking lot security doode and his big flash light. Yelled bad things at my father. Helped Nonnie switch over from the walker to the cane. Ate excellent nacho dip. Had two horribly bad servers. Tipped them accordingly. Cried a lot. Was merciful and fair president for lesbian-loving asshole game. Had some crazy dreams varying from hook-ups with freshmen to ex-coworkers. Urinated a lot. Wore 5 pairs of pants spanning 2 days... and 1 pair for the following 2 days.

Like I said... Interesting weekend.