wellownedbkup: (food)
on the plus side, at least having spent all my money today on gym clothes and pretty sweaters means that i won't have the cash to spend tomorrow on unhealthy breakfast options.

grr. i really want a hash brown now. mostly because the spinach dip and celery sticks i had for dinner?? weren't very filling. :( *sigh* to make hummus tomorrow. and then tuesday evening to go shopping for cheese (brie, anyone??), packable snackables, and maybe a thermos so i can have life sustaining tea or soup on the go. i already know how to be an unhealthy vegetarian.... now to try healthy options on the whole. may have to buy a big box o' peanuts to snack on, and string cheese. and fruits. (what're low sugar fruits again? cause i'm sure that mango and pineapple ain't, but they're my favorites.) back to what i was doing in may!! which was string cheese, yogurt, apples. i thought i had something bread/crunchy... like pretzels, but that's not it. maybe peanut butter crackers?? i thought i'd cut out bread-y foods at that point, but i don't remember now. all i know is that i spent money on pop every morning that whole month because Black Women in the Media was 3 hours long and snacks *had* to happen or i'd've been asleep.

i commend anyone that's making food changes. here i was thinking it'd be easy. then my dad throws a basketball viewing family only party with more food than i could shake a stick at, but none of it vegetarian. and i've gotten in trouble before about turning my nose up at the meal that was cooked and making my own something. so. yeah. also that day i had a really bad day and ate pizza?? what, friday?? oh. god. TERRIBLE IDEA. i mean, the pizza was good. but after one piece, i was sick. guess i'd been doing something right if the grease made my tummy go into revolt.
wellownedbkup: (existential)
it's funny, all the things you start remembering as you get older. stuff i know i didn't remember before. like how i used to wear cross colours and bonjour and chic jeans. or how i've always had a thing for blonds or black dudes that were friends with me.

there's things like how me and lenore were the bestest of best friends in elementary school and she was an idiot wearing a tank top on a field trip downtown in late fall, so i lent her my sweater and i was standing around in a silk shirt, but it was still awesome. or how the line between hero worship and love is really non-existent in my head, especially after that one student teacher.

there's how hallways stretched long and frightening without a book to read while walking against a crowd of people. or how my mom's current room was the scariest in my house because it was the only one without a light fixture in it. and how, when we shared the room, my brother always took the top bunk. there's how i've always been on the bottom bunk and how, when i was sick, my brother would turn on the tape player to our favorite tape, tuck me in and give me peace and quiet while everyone else ate dinner. how sometimes i think we were closer friends than me and my sister because at least he looked out for me when we were at brandeis together.

but i guess it's less of that and how just yesterday i realized that i've always skated that line. i wore buttondowns over t-shirts and a guy reached up between the two and was trying to feel me up and i didn't even realize it until he'd touched my boob. and it'd been weeks of him laying on me, doing that. he got to second base before ever touching first and i feel... somewhat jilted.

and there's other things too--how i kinda miss high school now like a tangible thing, where i would change what i did for what i know now. because, yes, i would've taken jones' molesting further and my girls would've had to put up with PDAs because i would've let him do almost anything. shameless, yes, but true. i still have a curiosity about a certain piercing. (it didn't even take me getting drunk to tell him that i wish we'd met in some other time, where i wasn't who i was. it took a long ride to cincinnati, i think, and my feet against the car window and nostalgia. and i told him "i wish we'd met in some other time. i think we would've been fantastic." and how he texted back that he was sorry. and how it was sad but made sense, how i still think it passes through us from time to time and how i want to heal that boy's wounds, but know i'm not for him. how he promised me that he'd leave me what he made when he went to the army, and the drunken phone call at 1 in the morning where he promised me he'd be back. and how i haven't seen him since black friday.) or maybe i would've stopped repressing so hard and maybe have told one or two girls that maybe i wasn't so loving of them platonically. (granted, i'm still working that out right now, trying to decide if this is me being lonely, impressionable, or if it really has been there all along. and then whether i should act on it at all, considering the objects of my affection are all straight.)

or i wish i could go back to middle school and actually understand what max was saying to me, instead of just hearing the words and being glad he was talking to me still. savoring sharing eighth grade graduation with the two boys i'd adored as opposed to the girls i called my friends. but, more importantly, going back and actually working out my life's course properly.

these memories are all the paths i've taken, the ones that lead me to today and make me who i am. they're all the paths i wish i could've changed, the ones i wish i'd stayed on longer. if i could turn time backwards, i would go back and fix it. maybe i would've never become solidly insane but loved without high school. smart and honest without the brilliant minds i met in middle school. blunt and careful without the stability of family and faith in elementary school.

i just wish that now didn't seem so pale and lackluster in comparison.
wellownedbkup: (Default)
swiped from angelchildr )
wellownedbkup: (Default)
i think now's as good a time as any to get my month in order (that is, the end of this month and all of september).

so. here's where i cut to a different scene. )
wellownedbkup: (wtf)
i'm beginning to think that, were i actually sane, this would be a good day.

but all i can think is how horrible yesterday was and how horrible tomorrow will be. is it possible to be one long low... with spiky high points that really only level as mediocre? is that depression or just life?

i keep telling myself that it'll pan out. really. all it takes is me moving out of the house after getting a job and thereby figuring out what the hell is wrong with me is my family. and they tell me that running away solves nothing but I BEG TO DIFFER. I WENT AWAY. I WAS SANE FOR ONCE AND I HAD ENERGY AND FRIENDS AND I DIDN'T HAVE TO BE STUCK IN MY HELLHOLE OF A LIFE FOR ALMOST THREE MONTHS AND I WAS HAPPY. but, here? now? all i want to do is sit at this computer clicking away for the rest of my life and i swear to god i hate that.

i wonder if my parents even realize that me helping is just a cover for me not having any motivation besides. i'm smiling in everyone's face and it's that final inch of me where one more bit of secrets and lies like my family is and has always been is enough to push me over the edge. i'm still trying to figure if suicide is really the worst option ahead of me. (i don't mean that. i contemplate but never follow through. consider me a failure even in that.)

i'm still trying to figure out what's normal. if there is a normal.

the girl i work with. she was so concerned when i told her my sugars were double the acceptable norm. and they were triple the day before. she flipped. absoltely freaked. i had to tell her i've been functioning on crappy so long that it's become my normal. i don't know down anymore cause i'm always down.

my mother wants to know why i don't want to do french anymore. maybe it's because i'm tired of being her vicarious living experience.

my grandmother wants to know why i don't lose weight. maybe it's because i can't be arsed to bother; i'm so low i don't wanna see the up anymore. maybe there is no up.

my father wants to know why i want to take off a while. maybe it's because i can't cope with stress anymore and it's all a vicious cycle that swallows itself over and over. maybe it's because, after this semester, UofL won't let me back for a year.

maybe my whole life is shit this go round. even positives like getting an interpreting job with a friend seem like loss to me.

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