my titties are sore. hormonal birth control is probably the perpetrator. life has been so strange but i guess that's not so strange. i quite unfortunately saw scranton creepin' at sammy's while i was waiting for an order to deliver. he was literally at the table next to me. i was shaking but i don't think it was visible to anybody but me... and i hope it wasn't visible to him. fortunately i've been bringing a book along with me to read while i stand for the tens of minutes it can take for some of these busier places to finally bring up my order. i know he recognized me because i was wearing my yellow hat that i wore when he was my teacher. i must've looked straight at him when i entered the place but i generally try not to look into the faces of any of the men at the restaurants i pick up deliveries at. not many of them interest me and most of them are sleazy. it's just not worth taking the risk of making eye contact and possibly getting hit on even moreso than i already do on the job (i love how i get hit on more often when i'm working--this goes for ALL jobs--than when i'm not. and how i get a lot of "you're the hottest ____" or basic "you're too pretty to work" kind of shit. yeah, no, this face doesn't exempt me from shit. i fucking wish. if anything it's more trouble. i much rather be anonymous. i spent most of my grade school experience keeping quieter than most and trying to be invisible.). anyways, i left without looking at him more than the one look it took to recognize him. when i heard his nasally, pretentious voice i knew it was him without a doubt. and i just had to stand there. trying to keep his voice from pushing into my head. smiling and acting nonchalant as the bartender lied to me, "just a few more minutes, sweetie." sweetie would've usually kind of annoyed me but it's better than later that night when i was called "little girl" at sadlack's.* as i walked through the parking lot to my car i noticed myself whispering "oh my god oh my god oh my god." when i got into my jeep i began crying. i was actually scared that this man would even talk to me. it was fucking terrifying just standing two yards away from him. the rest of the night was long. i turned onto one street into a wall of fog. it was the kind of fog that made you feel like the sky had fallen to the ground. it was kind of soothing.


uhhh, that was last night. this morning i had an exam. because the fog had not cleared from last night i had my lights on on the way to campus. i finished the exam in a couple hours and found my car with its lights still on. it was still too far away for me to know if i had killed the battery or not. then i got there. the unlock button on my key wasn't working. this was the fatal sign that my battery had indeed died. i can not tell you how upset i was. i felt like i was 15 again, letting the little things get to me. i calmed down as i noticed a few boys talking at one of their cars. i approached them, "ay yo, any of you have jumper cables (yeah, i didn't even have any goddamn cables)?" and got the dreaded "no, sorry." instead of searching, most probably in vain, for somebody else to jump me i looked for my wallet for the AAA card. no such luck, i had my big money wallet on me and not my brown one full of important cards. i ended up calling my dad. he told me, reluctantly, that he could make it out there in an hour. i headed to the library, killed some time surfing and studying on the internet, and then returned to my car. the unlock button was working this time. i jump into the jeep and turn the key in the ignition and hear the engine clicking and then chugging and so instead of releasing the key and letting it turn back i hold it there until the engine starts up! i'm elated but immediately feel guilty about taking my dad away from work. i call him and as he picks up i see his li'l black car pulling up in the entrance i'm driving out of. we laugh and head home. he takes lake wheeler and i take 40E. eventually when we're both home (i got home first, i don't know why he fucks with lake wheeler) he tells me he's going to get a tree. the rest of the afternoon is spent studying and trimming said tree.

i don't know why i ocassionally do these entries like i'm seven and i'm writing in my journal and half of what i do is just say "i did this and then this" and then read the entries aloud to my mother. that must have been adorable then. now? not so much. but i did have to mention that scranton thing. other strange things have happened, too. there's just a lot happening right now. and it's strange. and like i said, that's actually not all that strange.

oh and i want this:



imagine the possiblities! my pepsi's and 24 oz beerz won't go flat or spill!

http://www.asseenontvpromo.com/food-and-drink/bottle-tops/


*this shit pisses me off because it ultimately feels like to me that anybody can dismiss me (especially mentally) on the basis of my looks alone

There are certainly times when "a man's feeling's are more rational than his mind."

Today I taught my mom about the horrors of slut shaming and how it is actually an agent of our horribly patriarchal society. It was fucking great. Teaching the old feminist something new. It began with her calling a girl on one of those dating chat line commercials a "slut" and I became a bit enraged. I began with "So you're into slut-shaming?" and she simply replied "Yes" with a "yeah, of course" look on her face, obviously puzzled by my comment. She later commented that the woman was acting and looking like that for a man and I asked her how she made that assumption and "What if she's doing it for a lady?" She sat back and told me she'd have to think about that. :) Slut-shaming is seriously one of the most prominent (and unfortunately, acceptable) forms of sexism today and it makes me shudder.



ALSO: Seeing my favorite man tonight :)

So here’s the thing: I stopped writing in this journal because I felt like I couldn’t bear to share my little life and it’s stupid little problems. Everything seemed too trite, too stupid or too sordid to share. But upon reflection, I realize that abandoning this journal also meant I abandoned an important outlet for my personal expression. For me. And I realize it takes some courage to say who you are and what you do, even if only in a virtual realm. Journals may not be reality proper, but they do open a little window onto the lives of their authors. I have given up so many things that are part of living that somewhere along the line I gave up most of the things that constitute a life. A lot has happened. I’ve had hotness, I’ve had pain and I’ve had death and I’ve had a heap big helping of despair. And I’ve messed up some stuff. But I’m here. Still here. And though I may have been too foolish, too weak or too devastatingly preoccupied to take the opportunities I’ve had within my grasp, I’m still trying. I’m going to try again. At living.