(no subject)
so i heard there was some drama lately, that i managed to successfully stay completely out of. score. it's weird, sometimes it feels like our group is so still you could only know it lives and breathes with a stethescope. othertimes, we're burning like fire on a windy day.
i've been feeling pretty asocial lately (i discovered today that apparently antisocial disorder implies that you're psychotic, which i also learned is a much worse word than neurotic). small groups, on my terms, or one on one are almost the only places you'll find me. and if i'm talking to someone and someone else walks up, i might have to leave.
so i'm going to mix things up. i think i'm going to go to the next huge party i'm invited to (i'm talking a house full of party, none of this apartment half full of beer pong) and stay the whole time. i used to be a lot more comfortable when i was drinking, but it's rare that i feel comfortable in this skin anymore. sometimes i have to remind myself that i have a mouth, and once in a while even worthy things to say.
so kevin stuff, it's definitely getting really hard again. i cried a little bit today while watching grey's anatomy, and i think i'm going to write something tonight. i reread the three page single spaced post i wrote about it nearly a week after it happened, and i'm suddenly remembering so many more things (both included in the post, as well as things i neglected to mention). and i've decided, this semester my chapbook (a collection of themed poems for my advanced poetry class) will be about that. there's so much to write about, and i'm finally ready to take another stab at writing about it, stain more pages with salty ink blotches. in the end, it doesn't even matter if anyone but me thinks they're good, and that's a relief. or it would be, if it weren't for my standards being so high when it comes to this single issue. but, why shouldn't they.
last week in class they picked apart my women's rights poem. a lot. said it seemed man-hating. i think i might just cut the whole thing in half. i'm sick of being misunderstood. all the time.
"Now accepting applications for the postition of procratinatee.
Apply in person: Student Apt. 39."
-that's my cue. i'll be writing a lot tonight. and maybe, i'll post it. that seems gutsy, so i probably won't. in fact i just won't. goodnight.
i've been feeling pretty asocial lately (i discovered today that apparently antisocial disorder implies that you're psychotic, which i also learned is a much worse word than neurotic). small groups, on my terms, or one on one are almost the only places you'll find me. and if i'm talking to someone and someone else walks up, i might have to leave.
so i'm going to mix things up. i think i'm going to go to the next huge party i'm invited to (i'm talking a house full of party, none of this apartment half full of beer pong) and stay the whole time. i used to be a lot more comfortable when i was drinking, but it's rare that i feel comfortable in this skin anymore. sometimes i have to remind myself that i have a mouth, and once in a while even worthy things to say.
so kevin stuff, it's definitely getting really hard again. i cried a little bit today while watching grey's anatomy, and i think i'm going to write something tonight. i reread the three page single spaced post i wrote about it nearly a week after it happened, and i'm suddenly remembering so many more things (both included in the post, as well as things i neglected to mention). and i've decided, this semester my chapbook (a collection of themed poems for my advanced poetry class) will be about that. there's so much to write about, and i'm finally ready to take another stab at writing about it, stain more pages with salty ink blotches. in the end, it doesn't even matter if anyone but me thinks they're good, and that's a relief. or it would be, if it weren't for my standards being so high when it comes to this single issue. but, why shouldn't they.
last week in class they picked apart my women's rights poem. a lot. said it seemed man-hating. i think i might just cut the whole thing in half. i'm sick of being misunderstood. all the time.
"Now accepting applications for the postition of procratinatee.
Apply in person: Student Apt. 39."
-that's my cue. i'll be writing a lot tonight. and maybe, i'll post it. that seems gutsy, so i probably won't. in fact i just won't. goodnight.