Things I do when drunk.

Last night, after a fair amount of drinking at a party and getting a ride home from a friend, I sat at my computer and contemplated a difficult decision. Did I want to walk to Sheetz and get mozzarella sticks and fries? (Sheetz is where all the drunk IUPers go when hungry.) It was as I was about to write a status about said decision that I came up with the most beautiful piece of writing I ever created. Based off of the first sentence of Hamlet's "To be, or not to be" soliloquy, this is said masterpiece:


"To Sheetz, or not to Sheetz, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous drunkness,
Or to take arms against a sea of hunger,
And by opposing end them: to nom, to eat
Some Sheetz; and by a Sheetz, to say we end
The drunk-noms, and the thousand drunken wants
That flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consumption
Devoutly to be wished."



You are welcome.

Crazy, stupid love.

Any time I ever mention wanting love or the fact that I hate that I've yet to find it, I always get the same general response. It's either a "Don't worry you'll find it someday," or it's someone telling me it's not worth the time and that I don't need a man in my life to be complete. Trust me, I know that. Well, I know the second one. I have yet to have any hope of proof of the first. As a 22 year old who's been single all her life and been officially feminist for 3 or 4 years now, I know that I don't need a man to complete me. That's not what I want.

Unless you've been in my position, I don't think you'd understand. All I want is to know love. I want to feel love. I want to see love. I want to be love and be in love. I want to be able to go to bed each night and know that somewhere in the world there is someone who I mean more to than anything else, whether he's sleeping beside me or half way across the world on some trip. I want someone who can make me feel more beautiful than I could ever see myself, even when I am lying in bed sick, wearing sweatpants, and my face splotchy and red from bawling my eyes out to P. S. I Love You. I want someone who will have my back when it feel like the rest of the world has turned on me and I can't hold myself together on my own. I want someone to be with, to depend on, and who can depend on me to be all that I want of him when he needs me.

I've never had that love. I've never even had that silly, really, really like with anyone. I've felt that way before, but no one has ever felt that way about me. Ever. I'm the girl who never had a date to the school dances. I'm that girl that always got looked over for someone else. When that has been your entire life, it's hard to ever believe that you'll ever find anyone who feels that way about you. It's hard to believe that anyone will find you cute or pretty or attractive or beautiful because, if no one's ever thought that in 22 years, how could it even be true?

All I want is for someone to prove me wrong. All I want is for someone to see in me something that I'm fast beginning to believe doesn't exist. I saw I don't believe in love anymore, or that I don't care, or that it doesn't matter, but it's all a lie. I do believe in love, but soon I'm going to run out of hope for myself. I can only care for so long before it hurts too much, and I don't know how much time I have left. I don't want to be a cold, bitter bitch for the rest of my life. So, Santa, all I ask for this year is love. All I've ever wanted is love. Have I been good enough this year?

Why I love Coach Beiste:

While I have been Glee pretty much religiously since it's preview of the first episode back in May 2009, I will be the first to admit that, lately, there have been several times I have been disappointed in it. Even some of my favorite characters can disappoint me. Even so, I can't help but watch every week because, when it's good, it's really good. When it's good, it relates such an amazing powerful message to the viewers out there who could be going though the very same things in their lives. I am one of those people.

From the beginning, I had always loved Kurt, and when they introduced Mike O'Malley as his father, I was beyond ecstatic, but it wasn't until season two that they brought on a character that really meant something to me. The day I first saw the episode "Never Been Kissed", I bawled like a baby and fell in love with the character of Coach Beiste. I fell in love because, finally, there was a character that really spoke to me. Finally, there was someone who's troubles were just like mine. Finally, there was someone I could point to and say "That's exactly what I've been through. That's me." I am Coach Beiste.

I'm not even generalizing here. Besides the fact that Dot Marie-Jones's character is older than me and is a huge fan of sports and weightlifting, we are pretty much the same person. When she confessed to Will in that episode that she had never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and had never been kissed, I bawled because I knew that feeling. To this day, I have never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and at 22 and a half years old, I have never been kissed. Honestly, it makes you feel like shit. It makes you feel ugly and worthless because in all your life, no one has ever liked you enough to want to date you or even kiss you. It makes you feel like you're not good enough. Now, here was this amazing, strong woman who was experiencing the same problems I was. I wasn't alone.

Then, there is the more recent episode "The First Time". Once again, Coach Beiste and I are eerily similar. When that guy kept trying to subtly ask her out, she remained completely oblivious to the point where, in the next episode, it may have cost her the guy she loved. When it comes to guys, I am completely oblivious. I couldn't tell if a guy was hitting on me to save my life. Unless he comes out and says "I like you, date me." I really don't think I'd have a clue. It's pretty ridiculous. I think I know why Coach Beiste and I are like this, though. When you've lived as long as we have without a single guy saying they like you or they think you're attractive or anything, you don't expect it from anyone, so, when someone tries to hint at it, you don't even notice it or just think it's a joke. Why would someone like you this time? And you're not about to put yourself out there and say you like a guy, because they've never liked you before and this guy probably won't be any different and you don't want to look stupid or get your heart broken. So you don't and miss all the signs.

So, Glee, please, please, please, let Coach Beiste get her man. Give girls like me some hope. And boys out there, please don't be vague. Some of us won't get that you mean it.

Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.

While sometimes I may wonder if, in fact, I am insane, I don't think this is the answer. So why, then, do I continue to do the same damn thing, hoping that things might be different? I know how it ends every single time, yet my heart refuses to listen to reason.

Thus, I have come to the only conclusion that can possibly make sense: My heart is a masochist.

Why else would it continue to fall for guy after guy when I know how it will always end? It doesn't matter how many times my mind tries to be rational, my heart refuses to listen. "He doesn't like you that way. Guys like that don't like girls who look like you. It's not worth your time - you know how it always ends." Instead, my heart listens to hopes and dreams and wishes as if they were truth instead of make believe and lies. Like a goddamn enabler they say, "But he's such a nice guy! Maybe he won't care what you look like. Maybe he'll think you're pretty. Maybe this time he'll like you, too." And like the fucking dumbass it is, my heart goes along with it.

"I don't want to see you get your heart broken," my friend says. My heart doesn't seem to agree. "Let's get broken!" my heart says. My heart is not my friend. But, try as I may, I can't get the damn thing to go away. I can't get it to listen to reason. Instead, it follows hopes and dreams around like a gullible child in awe. If only my hopes and dreams would go jump off a cliff so my heart could follow suit and leave me be with my rational thoughts. Then I won't have to worry about getting hurt anymore. Then I won't have to live with the pain of knowing I will never be loved by anyone because love won't matter anymore.

This, too, will pass.

I was sitting in the room of my friend's aunt's house, my second beer in, while watching Crazy, Stupid Love with my friends when it hit me. These past couple of weeks had been stressful and difficult and there were many days when I went to bed hating myself, but, at that moment, it all changed. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I was tired of wondering if I was ever good enough or if people liked me. I was tired of it all. Sitting in that chair, I decided I was done with it all. Done with the fear and the pity and the rest. If someone doesn't like me, that's their problem, not mine. All I can do is be the best me I can be, and if that's not good enough for someone, they're not good enough for me. It won't always be easy, but nothing worth it ever is.

What did I do?

Did I do something wrong? Because I feel like you hate me. I feel like the last thing you want to see is my face and the last thing you want to do is talk to me. I don't expect anything from you. I'm not dumb. I know how life works for me. I would just like to know what the hell I did to make you feel this way because I'm sick and tired of being hated and ridiculed for things I didn't do. I'm sick of being left out and isolated because I did something wrong or I'm not good enough or god knows what reasons.

So I just ask one thing, and I'll leave you alone forever. What did I do? Because I honestly haven't a clue.

Not Enough.

I will never be good enough. Not for a guy; not for my mom; not for me.

I'm too fat. I'm too tall. I'm not pretty enough. I'm not funny enough. I'm smart enough. I'm not sexy enough. I'm not talented enough. I'm not enough.

I'm a whole lot of not enough and none of it adds up to anything worth loving.

---

I don't know why I write this here. It makes me look depressing and lonely. Maybe I am. Maybe this is the only way I can figure out how to say how I feel because it seems like no one in my life cares to know about it. Here, I can just throw it to the wind and for the one, brief second someone is reading this, someone out there knows how I feel. I might not know them now or ever, but, for that one second, I don't feel so alone. Someone knows. Someone understands. I only wish I were able to tell someone I do know. Trouble is, I'm not strong enough.

Borderlands

I live in the borderlands between memorable and forgotten.
In that half-forgotten place where meaningless thrives.
There, I'm more than an acquaintance, but not quite a friend.
There, I am good, but never good enough.

Winter creeps ever nearer and the sky was turning black when I saw it. It was just a small speck of light flying amongst the darkening clouds, but, at that moment, it was like the unreachable light that the end of an ever-tiring tunnel. As I headed back to my tiny, depressing room, there was no place on earth I would have rather been than up in that plane, flying high above the clouds, where none of my problems and fears and sadness could find me. I want nothing more than to fly far away to a place where no one can find me; to a place where I can be free and happy. I don't want to be afraid to let go anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I feel so lost and alone and worthless and I wish I could just step on that plane and let it take me away to a place where I won't feel that anymore; a place where I can lose myself so deeply that I won't feel lost anymore. I want to forget. I want to forget the longing I feel for every single thing in my life that I'm apparently not worthy enough to have. I'm tired of trying to hold myself up when I feel like I'm falling to pieces. So let me fly. Let me fly away and leave myself behind.

I've done it again.

I have this weird problem where, if I stay up past midnight, I can't go to sleep until two in the morning, (maybe one if I'm lucky.) If I am in bed before midnight, there's no problem. I don't really get it. So, here I am, about to tell you some not-so-random, jumbled-up story of the mess that is my life.

For the first time since I started college here, I like someone. Not just that, "Oh, he's cute and I would probably go out with him if he asked me to," either. Really like him. That like where just seeing him makes you smile and you always wonder what he's thinking of you. That like where you find yourself sitting somewhere and wondering what he's up to or where he's at because you wish you could be there with you. That like where you suddenly become self conscious of everything you do because you wonder what he thinks about it. That like that makes you do incredibly stupid things. That like that could maybe someday be something so much more if only he felt the same way.

Trouble is, he's already busy liking someone else. Once again, I've gone and found myself a guy I can't have in the first place. (The only thing I can be thankful about is that, this time, it's not because he's gay.) I knew I shouldn't have let myself get this way. I knew I should have done something to stop it, but I don't think there's much of anything I could have done. All I can do now is lock away my feelings like always and pray he doesn't figure me out because I wouldn't want to lose him as a friend, too.

So, here I am. 1:30am and I'm still awake, wishing I could go to bed; wishing I could stop liking him. I don't want my heart to break again because my heart won't listen to my head.

So much for being a heartless bitch.

Heartless Bitch.

I've decided to become one.

I'm sick and fucking tired of emotions and feelings and all that bullshit that just ends up making me feel like shit. It's not worth my time and it's not like anyone cares about my heart anyways. No one even notices it's there. Either they're completely oblivious to it, or assume it's made of goddamn steel. It's not. It's a weak piece of shit that does incredibly stupid things my brain tells it not to.

So I'm done. No one will ever see it again, and I'm half tempted to hide it so far away that I won't even remember where it is.

For now, though, I'll just hide it from everyone else and only bring it out in the deep recesses of my dark room while watching P.S. I Love You so as to remind myself why I don't want the stupid thing anyways.

Fuck love. It hasn't done a fucking thing for me, so I'm done waiting around for it. Goodbye, heart. Hello, heartless bitch.

Creeping.

Sooooo...

Someone around here is straight up creeping on this blog. Unless everyone who has been on here lately just happens to have an Android, which I highly doubt.

It wouldn't be so creepy if, whoever it was, didn't come here EVERY SINGLE DAY, despite me not having posted anything in at least a week, maybe more. I honestly don't keep up with how frequently I post.

But yeah.

Creepy creeper is creeping.

It's hard...

It's hard to accept yourself when nobody around you seems to accept you.

It's hard to feel beautiful when no one else seems to think that you are.

It's hard to trust when no one around you feels trustworthy.

It's hard to be around people when no one seems to want to be around you.

It's hard to love yourself when no one around you seems to love you.

I have feelings, too.

I have feelings, too.

People seem to forget that. Whether it's because I put on a good show or because just they don't care, I don't know.

I have feelings and hopes and dreams. I have wants and needs, but they never happen for me.

I always get left behind. Left out. Forgotten.

Unloved.

And I'm afraid I always will be.

Changing places, changing life.

     This summer did not turn out the way I expected it to. Besides having a new dog in the house, nothing was as expected. By the end of the summer, I was working anywhere between 50-60 hours a week between two jobs and things were falling apart. Needless to say, by the end of summer, I couldn't wait to leave town. I wasn't necessarily ready to get back to college, but at least it was an escape.

     Now, here I am, and I am feeling happier than I have in quite some time. I feel more included than I have all summer and my friends are putting a smile on my face that has been missing for a while now. This isn't the happiest I've ever felt - not by a long shot - but I am already in a much better place than I was back home. Hopefully, things begin to look up because I don't want to be back where I was this summer and this past spring...

This house makes me sick.

Whenever my brother and dad are together, they turn into the world's biggest douchebags. They think they are the be all and end all of knowledge. They think they know everything and no one else is right. They watch something on TV but hardly listen to what's going on because they're too busy pontificating on why they are right and not the people talking on TV. All they do is bitch and moan and when anyone disagrees with them or challenges them in any way, they gang up on them and don't let them get in a word in edgewise. I should know, because I'm usually the one being ganged up upon. I fucking want to punch them in the face.

I hate this house.

Hopefully I'll be able to find someplace I actually enjoy living one day. Someday I'll find a place to happily call home...

Fuck this.

I hate my life.

Not that anyone would notice.

Hey there, Delilah.

The end of this semester has been a whirlwind of crazy and stress. Thankfully, it's over, and I escaped the thing with only one B, (in my most despised class,) giving me a 3.96 overall GPA. Why IUP hasn't given me any scholarships yet is beyond me...

Anyways, that's not the point of this post. What I really want to talk about is the new edition to my family! Her name is Delilah, and she is the most adorable little Great Dane puppy ever. When I say little, of course, it's relative, but she is the runt of the litter and, at 30 pounds, is quite small for a 5 month old Dane puppy. We've named her Delilah and she is quite a ball of adorable energy. There are times when she reminds me of our old dog, Sam. Perhaps it's her slight neurotic tendencies, I don't know, but I love this little dog so much.

She's afraid of wind, loves her stuffed bunny rabbit, and loves to cuddle in your lap. That last one isn't going to be able to happen forever, since she won't be able to fit in our laps before long... She loves people. LOVES people. People walking by when she's outside, people walking by on walks... She wants them to come say hi, and she wants to go say hi. She's a little attention whore. She also loves ice cubes. If you use the ice machine, she comes running, and, if you don't give her an ice cube, she will follow you around begging until you do. She is such a sweetheart and I can't wait to see her grow up. :)

Another year gone, yet nothing's different.

Last week I turned 22.

It wasn't until today that it hit me, and it wasn't in any sort of exciting, great way.

No. Instead, I just remembered that 22 years have gone by in my life without any hope of love. Not once. No first kiss. No first date. No first boyfriend. No nothing. I've been alone all 22 years of my life. I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm tired of holding myself up. I'm tired of pretending like everything is fine and nothing is ever wrong.

Trouble is, I'm beginning to think it'll never happen. Who wants to love a socially awkward, unnecessarily tall fatass? According to the world and these past 22 years, no one. I'm probably destined to live alone for the rest of my life with just a couple of dogs to keep my company. Crazy dog lady. It's all I'll ever be.

It's not low self-esteem. It's just basic fact.

There are days when I really don't like myself.

I've had a lot of those lately.

Everyone always says tells you that happiness and acceptance comes from within, but when you're the only one who believes in yourself, there's a point where it's only foolish to keep doing so. If no one else believes, at some point, they've got to be right, right? It's you against the world. The world is a lot more people than you. It's basic math.

I can't remember the last time anyone made me feel beautiful. I can't remember the last time anyone made me feel talented. I can't remember the last time anyone made me feel special in any way at all.

People always seem to be surprised when I tell them I've never had a boyfriend and never even been kissed. To me, it's not surprising. They always ask why, and I always say I don't know. In my head, though, I know the answer. No one's ever thought I was worth it. I mean, there really isn't any other answer. How else could a girl who is almost 22 only ever been asked out once (in middle school, which doesn't even really count... It's middle school. Besides, I turned him down.)

All my life, and only one person has ever even considered wanting to date me.

What I would give to feel pretty. To feel loved. To feel special.

Instead I just feel fat and ugly. They're probably right, anyways...

Friends.

I'm pretty sure I don't have friends anymore. At least not in the real sense.

I can only think of one right now.

So I don't have friends anymore. I just have friend.

Here, though... Here I don't have any.

No friends. Not one. I can't fucking trust anyone here. I hate it.

Miss you, Omar.

   I woke up this morning to a call from my dad. He decided to take his old BMW to work in the snow and ended up getting stuck on the side of the road about half way up our street. I woke up with dread, but that wiped it out pretty well. It wasn't until I got changed, woke up my brothers to help, and headed down the stairs that I saw what I dreaded.

   His bed was empty. I knew it would be, but it hurt seeing that empty bed knowing what it meant.

   Last night, we had to put my dog down. It was the hardest decision we ever had to make, and one I ultimately ended up having to make the final decision on. He was 16 years old, and had been a part of our lives for nearly 15. I think it was the right thing to do, but it doesn't make it any harder. I miss him.

   It's funny, though, what you can learn about people in a tough situation. I learned that my dad, who was always the first one to complain about Omar's puddles or call him stupid, really did care about him. I didn't expect to see the tears in his eyes that I saw. Then there is my mother, who, unsurprisingly, had to come home from work early because she couldn't teach her students without crying. I think she still feels guilty. She always does. Then there is my younger brother, who didn't even want to be home when this happened, and didn't want to be there. It just proves that he is terrible at dealing with tough situations.

   The worst part of the ordeal for me was that last moment I turned back. After he was gone and we were leaving, I decided to look back one more time. Seeing him just lying there -- That was the hardest moment of all. Because, at that moment, he wasn't Omar. He looked like Omar, but he wasn't. That's when my heart broke.

   Some day, it'll be better, but it'll take awhile. I miss him so much, and it makes life harder not to have a warm, furry animal to make me feel better.

RIP Omar
November 20, 1994 - March 10, 2011

You made that little dash so full in our lives. Say hi to Sammy for us, and I hope all that cats up there love you as much as you love them. May the socks to chew and things to pee on be plentiful.

Breaking.

Omar's going to be put down soon.

It's only fair to him, but it hurts. So much.

I feared the day it would have to happen because I don't know if I can handle it. I feared it would be my breaking point, and I'm afraid I'm being proven right.

I hurt so much.

I wish he were here with me now because I need him. I miss him, and I can't even be with him until next week. And then he'll be gone. And I'll be left with this big, stupid hole in my heart without anything to fill it.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I'm so lost.

Beauty.

I can't remember the last time I felt beautiful.

And I don't mean the type of cookie cutter model standard of beauty. I mean uniquely beautiful. I can't remember the last time someone who wasn't a family member or a total creep made me feel beautiful. I don't even know if there ever has been a time I felt truly beautiful. I tell myself I am, but there's only so long you can make yourself believe something when it doesn't seem that anyone else does.

It hurts. It hurts not to feel beautiful to someone. To be loved by someone. It hurts knowing there isn't someone in the world who you mean just a little more to than everyone else. I try so hard to be myself and be proud of that, but when no one else seems to think who I am is special... It hurts. It hurts so much.

It's really true what they say: "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." Because, if you've lost, at least you had someone who loved you at some point in their lives. To never feel special in anyone's eyes? It sucks. It just sucks.

All I can do is keep breathing.

I think there's something wrong with me.

I don't know what, but I don't feel right. I hate the way I feel right now. But I can't admit it. I hate admitting it. I had admitting to anyone that I'm not 100% okie dokie. I don't know if it's pride or fear or what, but I can't. I feel stuck. I feel lost. I feel alone.

I hate it.

Can't sleep.

It is 1:40 in the morning. Of course I wouldn't be able to sleep on the night before I have 4744382234 things to do.

It's only been the second week of classes and I'm already drowning. I've got so much on my plate because I can't help but say yes to people who need help. I've got Randy's recital tomorrow. I've got PCCA at the end of the week and I don't even know half of the music. Every time I try to sit down to learn it, it's like my brain shuts off and doesn't want to take anything in. I'm on overload and I don't know what to do. I can't concentrate and I don't even know how I make it through each day.

And I don't have anyone here to help me. I don't even have myself to help me because I've already stretched myself in 20 different directions. I don't have anyone to help me, so I just have to push everything I need help with into that small part of my brain I use to forget things because thinking about them would make me fall apart and I can't do that because I don't know if I could pull myself back together.

I hate it. So much. But I don't have much of a choice, so I just have to keep soldiering on and hope for one of two things: If I keep pushing on, everything will sort itself out, or I'll find someone here who will help me and I will let them help.

Here's hoping, because it's the only thing I've got left.

Vent.

FUCK YOU ALL.

I'm so fucking done with people here. So done. Fucking bitches.

I just needed to get that off my chest in a place where it shouldn't come back and bite me in the ass.

Friendless.

That is my biggest fear.

Out of all the friends I've had over the years, there is only one I still talk to on a regular basis. There are times when old friends drift away, but I've always had new friends around. Not that the old friends weren't as good. It was just time for us to go our separate ways. I fear it's happening again, though, but, this time, I don't have that group of new friends, and I don't know what to do. I've only got one friend that I actively talk to on a regular basis that I don't see every day. I've got a lot of good acquaintances at school, but no one I feel that closeness of a real friendship with, and I'm scared.

I don't want to be alone.

That is my biggest fear. That I won't have any friends. That I'll be alone. That no one really loves or cares about me. Yes, I am a strong independent woman, but even they need friends. Everyone needs some sort of support system and I'm losing mine. I'm so lost and I don't know what to do or who to talk to. I don't know what I'm doing anymore or if it's the right thing for me. I'm so lost. And I'm afraid no one will find me.

"Love them as I have loved them."

I've been missing on here for awhile. The past few days have been incredibly busy and incredibly emotional.

I want to take this time and this post to dedicate to a great man who has made an impact on so many lives.

I had initially met Mr. Dearing at PMEA Regional Chorus during my senior year of high school back in 2007, but it wasn't until I came to IUP two years later that I really met him. You could tell right away that he loved his job and loved his students. I can remember the day after I had auditioned for the Music Performance major he called me over after a rehearsal to talk to me. Apparently, people who have never had experience with Operas shouldn't audition for that major, something I hadn't a clue about until he told me then. Then he told me, if it was up to him, I would be in. He was the first person at IUP who showed faith in me, something that I really needed to hear at that time because I didn't really have anyone there. If there is one thing I admired about him the most, it was the fact that he never cared about how much experience you had. You could have been singing in choirs and doing opera and all kinds of things since you were young, or you could have walked in to audition for his choirs without any experience at all. All he cared about was if you had the talent. You just needed to be able to sing. He gave everyone that chance. I was blessed to be able to work with him for the two and a half semesters I had with him. I only wish there were more.

Last semester, he passed away after a long battle with cancer. It was a tough semester. He had been ill since before I arrived at IUP, but it wasn't until this semester that things took a real bad turn and it hurt to see him unable to do the one thing he loved more than anything. His passing, while not completely unexpected, was hard for many. It wasn't until this weekend, though, that it really hit me. This weekend, I volunteered to take part in singing at the memorial concert that was set up for him. It was so beautiful. It was amazing to see how many people showed up to sing; how many people were inspired by him. He was a great man, and I will miss him greatly.

That being said, the new choral director we have has been so great about everything. He is a really wonderful man who understands what he has walked into. The title of this post is what Mr. Dearing wrote in his farewell letter to the Chamber Singers and I believe that this new director plans on doing just that.

Farewell, Mr. Dearing. You have touched the lives of so many, and we will never forget the love and music you shared with us. I hope you're up in heaven directing the choir of angels with some of the greats and telling everyone your jokes.

Day Four.

A habit you wish you didn't have:

I have plenty of those. I wish I weren't so unmotivated. I wish I didn't eat when bored. I think the habit I most wish I didn't have would be my unwillingness to confide in people. I just don't. For many reasons. Sometimes I don't want to bother people with my issues. I always think they're not that big and other people have their own problems to deal with, why should I bother them with mine? Sometimes I don't trust people. I assume they're not going to care or use it against me. I don't let people get close.

So, yeah. That's that...

Day Three.

Three: A picture of you and your friends.

I've had a fair few groups of friends over the years. Some of those friends were wonderful, some weren't. I do what I can to forget those who weren't, but I'll never forget the ones who were there for me, even if I don't see them often anymore. The friends in this picture are some of the greatest friends I could ever ask for and I am so blessed to have them in my life. They really helped me to become myself and be my own person. They are always there for a good laugh and a good rant. I honestly don't know what my life would be like without them. This is the gang. We might not see each other as often as we used to back in high school, but we're still a pretty awesome group of friends. As you can tell by the picture, we're quite ridiculous.

Day Two.

The meaning behind your name:

When I was born, my parents didn't exactly agree on what they wanted to name me. My mom was campaigning for "Rachel" while my dad was pushing hard for "Anastasia." (As much as I love the name Anastasia, it wouldn't really go with my ridiculously long last name. Unfortunately.) Neither of them were budging. That's when my older brother, who was around three at the time, gave the name "Daniel." It was at that moment that I was named "Danielle" after my mom's grandfather. Or so I thought.

This is what I was told for many years. It wasn't until a few years ago that my mom let the real story slip while my family was out to dinner with my aunt and uncle and cousins. Apparently, the idea to name me "Danielle" was not my brother's idea. Instead, what happened was that my mom, knowing my dad wasn't budging and didn't want Rachel as my name either, quietly suggested the name to my brother, knowing that my dad might better accept the name if his son were to say it. It worked. It was at that moment that I was named "Danielle" after my mom's grandfather.

Danielle the feminine French version of the Hebrew name "Daniel" which means "God is my Judge." Oddly enough, I feel this kind of fits me. I've always stood by the thought that it's not my job to judge people, it's God's job. I don't know if a lot of things are right or wrong. Hell, I don't even know if God actually exists in any shape or form. So who am I to say that something is wrong? If you're an asshole, yeah, I'm going to judge you for that, because I'm pretty sure I know what makes an asshole. But when it comes to things that can't be proven by common knowledge, then it's not my place to judge. I don't know who'll go to "heaven" or "hell" so I don't have a right to condemn someone for things that I can't know for certain. Jesus didn't judge people. He accepted all kinds of people, so shouldn't I do the same? Shouldn't you do the same? Judge people for their actions and the way they treat others, not who they are. Why should I condemn someone for loving someone else? That just sounds stupid.

So yeah.

That's my name.

Day One

There's this thing a lot of people seem to be doing lately on Facebook that I've been contemplating doing. It wasn't until I found out that it started on Blogger that I decided to do it and do it here. So here it goes. 30 days worth of posts. (Don't expect it to be every day. Let's be serious, it's me here.)

Day One:

A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself:

My first time playing airsoft.

1. My last name is ridiculously German. Because of that, I refuse to actually learn German because I don't want to prove anyone's assumption correct that I know the language.
2. I hate being German because I feel it is the main reason I am ridiculously tall and wide.
3. I feel people are intimidated by my size.
4. I find this incredibly annoying because I'm a really nice person and not intimidating at all. At least I don't think so.
5. I am incredibly shy around strangers, but can be really loud and outgoing around friends.
6. One of my new favorite shows on TV is "The Walking Dead" and whenever I watch it I become irrationally afraid of the Zombie Apocalypse.
7. I do believe the Zombie Apocalypse can happen and am preparing myself for it.
8. I am a feminist. No, I do not burn bras, nor do I never shave. I don't have men, either. At least not most of the time.
9. I am secretly a nerd. I don't think people ever suspect me of this, though.
10. I think I'm funny. I'm aware that I'm not always as funny as I think I am. I do have my moments, though.
11. I have an irrational fear of calling people on the phone.
12. I have never been kissed.
13. I am really bad at filling these things out.
14. I am attracted to musical talent and celebrities over the age of 30.
15. I'm pretty much doing this for myself because I don't think anyone actually reads this on a regular basis.