This is not an update.
Don't even consider this an entry.
Where should I begin? Well, there is no ending so there really isn't a beginning, either.
Nothing is happening, right now. And by that, I mean my life is standing water. Taint it with the botulism virus and watch everyone die.
The friend pool is stagnant.
I find an odd release in the phrase "Colette has gone insane." And while I think i'm completely sane and normal and all those other things it seems people deny me, the phrase plays like a drum beat, resonating through my blood so I don't have to think about anything.
People piss me off. This means they amuse me. I have "no sense of emotion." Ha, ha, ha. Just because you don't feel a certain way for someone, they automatically turn you into some inconceivable monster rising from the 9th circle.
I don't like looking nice, outside. I don't enjoy people catcalling, honking, etc, etc... Yeah, it sounds vain, and yeah, it's slightly flattering. But really, how many people fall prey to this? Probably anyone with a vagina. Does this make me special? No. Do you know how often you get called "bitch" by passing cars when you ignore them. Even when you give them acknowledgment and a discreet wave accompanied by an apologetic smile?
Look the other way. I guess I'm just not comfortable with myself, yet.
I meet new people almost daily. However, they are just a passing blur. A person you glance at when the train stops at your station and flies by after passengers step aboard. I'm watching these passing faces, growing weary, realizing that I'll never step aboard because none of these trains are mine and I am probably at the wrong station. I'm standing to catch the wind and never happen upon these human coincidences, again. It's a new state of breathing. I can't wait for each stop to carry everyone away again.
If it stalls too long, I might have to suffer the discomfort of having my gaze returned.
Spread out in the sunlight. Stop thinking. Colette is going insane.
Tiny defeats. I think people calling me weird is beginning to injure me. Okay, I am...I guess, not really my place to say. But when even a closer friend said something about it when I made a simple comment in reference to a bug, "It's weird." and they mistook me for calling them weird and shot it back at me: "I'm not weird, you're weird..." Insert my innocent blink. What? My faith is fractured. Surprised it existed?
Let's see if you're still reading.
I'm setting something in concrete. Are you ready?
What do you do when you don't know somebody well, only talked to them practically once in your life, but know them well enough to merit a "hi" on the street. Let's say this person is walking about 10 meters in front of you, talking to somebody else you don't know and you're both walking in the same direction.
Do you:
a.) Catch up to the person and say "hi"
b.) Keep your distance and ignore the sighting.
c.) Turn off the street even though your agenda was someplace on this street
Sounds simple, right? Naturally, I chose b. C sounds neurotic, but I didn't plan on seeing anyone familiar.
Now, let's switch it up, a bit. Okay, you're still walking behind them, hoping they'll turn or something, but instead, they stop in front of a Chinese restaurant which also happens to be right before your destination of the venue (you're checking out the time for today's show). You are forced to pass these two people.
Do you:
a.) Stop and say "hi"
b.) Keep walking, pretending you didn't notice, though you have to stop 10 feet after them
c.) Keep walking and forget your original agenda, you can check that out later.
Again, if I'm ever a teacher, tell your kids how they may ace my multiple choice tests. I chose b. I mean, why should I have to stop? I'm getting to my destination and doing exactly what I set out to do. Besides, with A, I was thinking neurotically about the awkwardness of the situation so I'd never pull off a casual "hi." I'm not that casual. Besides, I was experiencing Potential Stalker Guilt Syndrome.
Why? Because the situation of how I know this person is already awkward to begin with. Constant assaults to my character are also chipping away at my "boldness." (That I laugh and defer to as my madness) I'm feeling almost frail, to sound astoundingly moronic. And in response, I will not break, I'll only become caustic and bitter.
Look the other fucking way.
For the record, if you've made it this far, person I'm referring to--though you normally don't read long entries, I suppose I was the the possibly hispanic, possibly asian, possibly who-the-fuck-cares girl that stopped by Johnson.
I didn't want to admit it because I had a strong suspicion I wasn't the person you were hoping for. Call it more a feeling of failure. I felt utterly, completely retarded.
And I came because I was feeling odd that day and wanted to apologize for being such a dumbass and ask what you were doing later. I felt so ashamed of myself. I don't even remember the details, but I felt I came across as a really idiotic person. Which is probably in some ways the honest truth of me, but I'd like to think I'm incompetent in a different way. One (way) that goes up to Johnson Hall and disembowels all pretense. One that probably has serious issues in behaving in a normal manner. But I somehow manage. Like a rolling car wreck.
But you haven't made it this far so you'll never know, will you?
For inside-joke reference, watch Stalker Guilt Syndrome: http://www.atomfilms.com/af/content/atom_174
I'm okay, really. I'm so great. This is not your stop so keep moving, damnit. Keep going.
Maybe you won't notice my disfigurement. Maybe you won't realize that I'm as normal as you are. I have no excuses.
I'll tell my senses to wait till October. We have to get through a year so that maybe it will mean something, again.
Chances are, it won't. And it never will. Never has.
But it's okay, really.
Keep going.
Next stop: Not Here.
Where should I begin? Well, there is no ending so there really isn't a beginning, either.
Nothing is happening, right now. And by that, I mean my life is standing water. Taint it with the botulism virus and watch everyone die.
The friend pool is stagnant.
I find an odd release in the phrase "Colette has gone insane." And while I think i'm completely sane and normal and all those other things it seems people deny me, the phrase plays like a drum beat, resonating through my blood so I don't have to think about anything.
People piss me off. This means they amuse me. I have "no sense of emotion." Ha, ha, ha. Just because you don't feel a certain way for someone, they automatically turn you into some inconceivable monster rising from the 9th circle.
I don't like looking nice, outside. I don't enjoy people catcalling, honking, etc, etc... Yeah, it sounds vain, and yeah, it's slightly flattering. But really, how many people fall prey to this? Probably anyone with a vagina. Does this make me special? No. Do you know how often you get called "bitch" by passing cars when you ignore them. Even when you give them acknowledgment and a discreet wave accompanied by an apologetic smile?
Look the other way. I guess I'm just not comfortable with myself, yet.
I meet new people almost daily. However, they are just a passing blur. A person you glance at when the train stops at your station and flies by after passengers step aboard. I'm watching these passing faces, growing weary, realizing that I'll never step aboard because none of these trains are mine and I am probably at the wrong station. I'm standing to catch the wind and never happen upon these human coincidences, again. It's a new state of breathing. I can't wait for each stop to carry everyone away again.
If it stalls too long, I might have to suffer the discomfort of having my gaze returned.
Spread out in the sunlight. Stop thinking. Colette is going insane.
Tiny defeats. I think people calling me weird is beginning to injure me. Okay, I am...I guess, not really my place to say. But when even a closer friend said something about it when I made a simple comment in reference to a bug, "It's weird." and they mistook me for calling them weird and shot it back at me: "I'm not weird, you're weird..." Insert my innocent blink. What? My faith is fractured. Surprised it existed?
Let's see if you're still reading.
I'm setting something in concrete. Are you ready?
What do you do when you don't know somebody well, only talked to them practically once in your life, but know them well enough to merit a "hi" on the street. Let's say this person is walking about 10 meters in front of you, talking to somebody else you don't know and you're both walking in the same direction.
Do you:
a.) Catch up to the person and say "hi"
b.) Keep your distance and ignore the sighting.
c.) Turn off the street even though your agenda was someplace on this street
Sounds simple, right? Naturally, I chose b. C sounds neurotic, but I didn't plan on seeing anyone familiar.
Now, let's switch it up, a bit. Okay, you're still walking behind them, hoping they'll turn or something, but instead, they stop in front of a Chinese restaurant which also happens to be right before your destination of the venue (you're checking out the time for today's show). You are forced to pass these two people.
Do you:
a.) Stop and say "hi"
b.) Keep walking, pretending you didn't notice, though you have to stop 10 feet after them
c.) Keep walking and forget your original agenda, you can check that out later.
Again, if I'm ever a teacher, tell your kids how they may ace my multiple choice tests. I chose b. I mean, why should I have to stop? I'm getting to my destination and doing exactly what I set out to do. Besides, with A, I was thinking neurotically about the awkwardness of the situation so I'd never pull off a casual "hi." I'm not that casual. Besides, I was experiencing Potential Stalker Guilt Syndrome.
Why? Because the situation of how I know this person is already awkward to begin with. Constant assaults to my character are also chipping away at my "boldness." (That I laugh and defer to as my madness) I'm feeling almost frail, to sound astoundingly moronic. And in response, I will not break, I'll only become caustic and bitter.
Look the other fucking way.
For the record, if you've made it this far, person I'm referring to--though you normally don't read long entries, I suppose I was the the possibly hispanic, possibly asian, possibly who-the-fuck-cares girl that stopped by Johnson.
I didn't want to admit it because I had a strong suspicion I wasn't the person you were hoping for. Call it more a feeling of failure. I felt utterly, completely retarded.
And I came because I was feeling odd that day and wanted to apologize for being such a dumbass and ask what you were doing later. I felt so ashamed of myself. I don't even remember the details, but I felt I came across as a really idiotic person. Which is probably in some ways the honest truth of me, but I'd like to think I'm incompetent in a different way. One (way) that goes up to Johnson Hall and disembowels all pretense. One that probably has serious issues in behaving in a normal manner. But I somehow manage. Like a rolling car wreck.
But you haven't made it this far so you'll never know, will you?
For inside-joke reference, watch Stalker Guilt Syndrome: http://www.atomfilms.com/af/content/atom_174
I'm okay, really. I'm so great. This is not your stop so keep moving, damnit. Keep going.
Maybe you won't notice my disfigurement. Maybe you won't realize that I'm as normal as you are. I have no excuses.
I'll tell my senses to wait till October. We have to get through a year so that maybe it will mean something, again.
Chances are, it won't. And it never will. Never has.
But it's okay, really.
Keep going.
Next stop: Not Here.