I don't even think anyone reads this anymore.

Yes, it is 5:30am.

I am nearing the end of an all-nighter I pulled in order to finish a French project that's due tomorrow afternoon. I probably finished around 5 minutes ago and I'm at that stage of sleep deprivation where everything is heavy and slow. I've been marathoning an energy drink all night to stay awake. I should remind myself not to get the orange Amp next time. Much too jittery. I should really just stick with the purple one. If it weren't full of high-fructose corn syrup and other very not good things for you, I think it could cure cancer, that's how well it works for me.

As you can tell, I'm also in the random rambling stage of sleep deprivation, with a hint of "What the hell was I just thinking two seconds ago?" Tomorrow, or this morning, or whatever... At 9am. There. At 9am, I have a sight singing quiz. It's probably a good thing he drops the lowest grade because I can't imagine this quiz being particularly good.

I'd go to bed, but I have to be up in about 2 hours, and I don't foresee myself actually waking up to a full force hurricane with an earthquake added in, let alone my alarm, so no sleep it is. Tomorrow has the potential to be frighteningly interesting because of it.

Tomorrow is also the beginning of Homecoming weekend, which means everyone will be drinking, even though our campus is a "dry campus." I might be one of those people. I have yet to mix alcohol with sleep deprivation, so I'm not sure how that will pan out exactly.

I think I feel my body vehemently shouting "FUCK YOU I WANT TO GO TO SLEEP NOW!" Oh, body, how I wish I could.

Untitled.

I don't let people get too close.



That way, it doesn't hurt so much when they leave.

Harboring an Illegal*

(*I realize that "illegal" is not politically correct. Know that I would not use it if I were talking about an actual undocumented immigrant.)

So, this weekend I've been harboring an illegal kitten in my room. The friends of mine who she belongs to were both out of town for the weekend and asked me to watch her while I was gone. Not being one to pass up a weekend with a cuddly, furry animal, I jumped at the chance. (Might have literally jumped in my seat. I was a little drunk at the time of the offer.) It's been an interesting experience.

Firstly, this is really my first time taking care of an animal ALL BY MYSELF. I have a dog at home, but I'm not the only person who lives in that house, so there's always someone there to help out if I'm busy or something. While this is my first time taking care of an animal all by myself, this is actually not the first time I've helped harbor an illegal animal. About a year and a half ago or so, I helped my friend Casey take care of a dog for a friend in her apartment. Let me tell you, taking care of Tipsy the kitten has been A LOT easier. Tipsy doesn't get poop all over herself for one thing, and she's significantly quieter. Secondly, this is pretty much my first time really taking care of a cat. I've always been a dog person, (my dad hates cats,) and most cats I know seem to not be a big fan of me. We had a cat in my house for a month once while my cousin was in basic training, but I didn't do much on the taking care of part and she hated my dogs. (Omar loved her, however, regardless of how many times she swatted him with her claws.) I've never really been a cat person. Until now.

I love this kitty. She is the most adorable thing I've ever seen. If it weren't illegal to keep her here, I don't know if my friends would ever get their cat back. Right now she's on my bed, which she's pretty much claimed as her sleeping quarters, cuddling up next to my stuffed dog. She loves that thing. She actually tries to nurse from it. (I've read online that it's a sign she was taken from her mother too soon, which is sad, (I blame the people who were giving her away,) but it's so adorable.) Even the fact that she seems to rather want to use the corner of my carpet as a litter box than her actual litter box doesn't bother me enough. (She's getting better, though.) I feel we have a very Mufasa/Simba relationship, since she's learning to pounce and she decided it was a good idea to jump all over me at 7am this morning wanting to get up when I clearly wanted to sleep longer. (Here's hoping I don't get killed in a wildebeest stampede anytime soon.)

I've always wanted a dog of my own and still do, but I really want a little kitty now, too. :D

One Step Forward. Two Steps Back.

I can't even explain how I'm feeling right now. One minute I'm feeling great and the next I'm stressed or lonely or unsure. I'm so moody, lately, and I hate it. I don't even know why.

I think part of it has to do with this irrational fear of people not liking me for absolutely no reason. Or at least no reason I know or understand. I think I know why I have this fear, but we don't need to get into the psychology of it, since it doesn't seem to affect this irrational fear anyways. It's a fear that I can't seem to shake, no matter how silly I tell myself it is. I guess it's tied to that fear that I'll never find love. So, instead of trying my best to face my fear of people not liking me and going out and trying to find love, I shy away from strangers and new faces because I think it's easier to hide my heart and keep it safe than take the risk of getting it broken, whether in friendship or love.

I'm kind of a little fucked up, I guess.

Bigfoot vs. The Shoe Industry

I HATE shoe shopping.



That's not exactly true.

       Let me be more specific.  I don't actually hate looking at shoes.  I actually quite like it.  There are so many different kinds of shoes and they're all so cute!  (Mostly.  Those Ugg boots are ugly as fuck.  Hate them.)  What I hate about shoe shopping is this: They rarely ever have my size.  The only place I know of that consistently does is Payless, and, while their shoes are cute, they aren't particularly long lasting.  In any other store, if they have my size, it's never in the shoes I like.  I can't remember the last time I went to a nice department store and found a pair of 11s that weren't some hideous excuse for a pair of shoes.

       I know what you're going to say next.  "What about shopping online?  Surely you can find something there in your size!"  Ignoring the fact that I would much rather try the shoe on in person to see if I like the way it fits and how it looks on my foot, I have tried this. Sometimes, it works.  A lot of the times, it doesn't.  Case in point: I have been looking for a decent pair of boots for over a year now.  I have yet to find a pair that I like that comes in my size.  And, even if I do find that, there's always the good chance that, when I get those boots in the mail, they still aren't going to fit because my calves are asshole mutants of nature and like to send out a big screw you to me whenever I try on boots.  The boot might fit my foot, but it doesn't always fit my jackass huge calf. 

       "Okay," you might say. "Why not try a different kind of boot?" Want to know what I'd say to you? "Fuck you." Yup. Fuck you, because it's my money and I know what kind of boots I want and I have a right as a greedy corporate American customer to get what I want. I'm not going to buy some other type of boot that I don't want because companies can't make a boot that fits me.  I'm tired of stores implying that I'm some sort of freak of nature because my shoe size is bigger than "average."  You know what?  My mom has the same size shoe as me.  My friend has a size bigger than me.  There are many "average" women out there who share my shoe size, and I find it's a disservice to us that stores and shoe companies can't supply our demands.  We have just as much of a right as the size 7 footed women out there to have cute shoes and boots, and I'm tired of being counted out because I'm too tall or too big.  Fuck you.

Average, Same-Old Life Moment

It's been awhile.

       This always happens, though.  I start some BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEE!!1! and I think, "Hey!  I'll blog about it so that everyone can experience all the awesomeness I will!"  A few months later, I realize my BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEE!!1! is nowhere near as exciting as the movies and TV make them out to be, so I get bored and stop blogging.  It's like finding out Santa isn't real.  (Sorry if I ruined it for anyone!)

       When you think Santa is real, Christmas is so exciting because, every year, some big jolly guy with a beard and a red suit manages to fly around the world with 8 reindeer to deliver everyone presents.  You don't know how he does it, and you don't know how he gets into your house if you don't have a chimney, but you could care less.  Santa is leaving you magical presents!  Then you get older, and you begin to see the holes, and you eventually figure out he's not real.  At first, you think, "That's okay! I still get presents!"  You still have lists of things you want for Christmas.  But, as the years go by, it just doesn't have the same magic, and when you're old enough to realize how much money your parent(s) spend getting you presents every year, there's hardly any magic left.  You only ask for one thing, or the proverbial "I don't know" pops up.

       It's the same with blogging, at least for me.  First, I'm so excited to blog about EVERY THING EVER that I talk about completely pointless shit based soley on the fact that it's BRAND NEW.  Then, I start to realize that the BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEE!!1! isn't as magical and fantastic as I thought it was going to be.  It's actually pretty normal.  I still blog, but the glamour of it has worn off.  Then, my posts get fewer and fewer.  Then, they stop.  I usually don't start up again until some other BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEEE!!1! starts, and it's the same old thing all over again.

       I've been blessed and cursed with the ability to be hopeful.  All humans have it, but I think it's extra strong in me.  I know this, and try to warn myself against it, but there's still that small part of me that can't help but hope and dream about the best possible outcome, even when I know it will never happen.  "He probably doesn't like me, but maybe he does!"  "You're going to school for a major that probably guarentees you will have no future job and be a  poor homeless bum.  But, maybe I'll become a famous singer and everyone will hear my songs and everything!"  I know which ones will end up happening, but I still hope and hope that maybe that unlikely thing will happen.

       This time is different, though.  There isn't some BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEE!!1! that has started me on this again.  I don't exactly know what did.  An inspiring friend.  A need to express myself.  A way to get my thoughts out of my head.  I don't know.  I don't even know what I'm doing with my life right now.  Maybe, here, I can kill two birds with one stone and figure out the answer to both those questions.

Or maybe I won't post on here again until some other BIG NEW LIFE EXPERIENCEEE!!1! happens.

Let's find out.

Soooo. It's been awhile...

[tunes]: none



So. It's been a long time. And a lot has happened in that time. Sorry I haven't been updating! Tonight is not going to be the update none of you have been waiting for, but I wanted to let you know I've noticed. I hope to finally get around to updating you on the last month sometime during my Thanksgiving Break.