An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day.
I dressed as an Indian today, sort of. Feels good to feel festive. On to the point. Everyone seems so oblivious lately, just completely unaware of themselves and their surroundings. I've been making like a ton of inside jokes with myself. Real inside jokes. I try to share things with people but most people don't need to hear it from me. Someone recently told me that I don't get enough credit. I explained to him that I don't want this so-called credit, and how I don't really deserve it. I'm not so sure what people think of me anymore. I haven't really been going out of my way to be impressionable, I've just been trusting my instincts, letting my sweetest intentions take the wheel. Sure, my sweetest intentions sometimes fail to accelerate properly around the roundabout and that just might result in a flatty flat tire, but I'm very okay with that.
I woke up on monday morning and my body felt as if it had been turned inside out so that my insides were exposed to the cool air trapped inside my unheated house. My parents have this thing against going to sleep with a decent amount of heat flowing. For this reason, I wake up as a popsicle every morning. The fact that I wont turn the fan setting on my air conditioner off doesn't help, but I really need that. I'll try to fall asleep in the silence but my thoughts are so terribly noisy sometimes that I need the air flow lullaby to ease my mind and put me to rest. I'm okay with that, too.
But seriously, when I woke up with that chilling sensation, feeling cold and exposed, it wasn't so much a physical thing as it was psychological. I had to come down from the exciting weekend cloud, I suppose. My body uses strange coping mechanisms during even the slightest transitional periods. I go to sleep every night and define all of the events of my day. I define them, compare them, etc. Quite like how it's done in school. I want every day to count. I don't want my life to be a continuous string of weekends. My mom told me in 6th grade, after Justin Warren had died, something she'd learned from her experiences from dealing with breast cancer... how it's never worth it to her to sleep in past a 9 o'clock or so because she feels like she's wasting her life away, and she proceeded to tell me to "make every day count". I feel incredibly guilty if I sleep past 10 o'clock on a Saturday or Sunday, no matter how late I go to sleep the previous night. It's a great thing to do though, make every day count. It sounds pretty cliche, and I suppose it really is, but it's something that people tend not to take into consideration before they take their three hour naps or engage in other less-than-productive activities. And maybe there really is no such thing as wasted time, but there are a number of things that we do that we don't really account for. I often complain about not feeling fulfilled and I guess I'm to blame for that. I can't rely on other people to make me happy anymore. Everything is in my handz.
I feel so prepared for everything lately. Nothing seems outrageous to me anymore, nothing and nobody. It's the spontaneity factor in life that keeps me wanting more and more. When Sean and I were in the city, we were about to cross the street when we saw this very shady character wearing a long coat and some sort of a top hat, and he was dragging along a suitcase on wheels, and right as he began to cross the street he discarded the suitcase and it was left forlorn on the side walk, and then we heard some sort of a beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep. (Tick, tick, BOOM!) We both acknowledged the peculiarity of this and quickly headed in the opposite direction. I wonder what that was really all about. Maybe the beeping was in our heads. This kind of thing is what our parents tell us to look out for! Maybe it wasn't so spontaneous after all. Maybe.
My official NYS learners permit came in the mail on monday. I look like I'm in a lot of pain in my photo. I think I was at the time though. It'll be nice to show the webster hall bouncer just one card as opposed to messily rummaging through my bag to find all sorts printed identification. messy mess.
Speaking of mess
This picture is shitty and poorly illuminated, but look at the bonez. LOOK AT THE EXCEPTER RIB CAGE. Terrifying. Sean and I took a few extremely brief video clips. I should have gotten more.
I don't have much planned for this thanksgiving weekend. I suppose I'll go to see RENT at some point. I heard it wasn't too great, with the original cast being too old for their parts, and weak setting. A lot of the review's complaints seemed like they would be pretty valid, especially in saying that a movie that's trying to address issues such as losing ones dignity because of personal conflicts and disease, well, it's all sort of upstaged by everyones' concern with terrorism and natural disasters, and it's not half as inspirational as it is supposed to be. Wotever, I'll make my own evaluation soon enough.
My report card was okay. Not bad at all. That is that. I just helped my mom with stuff. I'm pretty tired now, I need to clean up my room for tomorrow and then I want to read a whole lot. I don't think I like turkey. Fuck. Look at Indian Aubrey at lunch today. Look at her.
Have a good one.
I woke up on monday morning and my body felt as if it had been turned inside out so that my insides were exposed to the cool air trapped inside my unheated house. My parents have this thing against going to sleep with a decent amount of heat flowing. For this reason, I wake up as a popsicle every morning. The fact that I wont turn the fan setting on my air conditioner off doesn't help, but I really need that. I'll try to fall asleep in the silence but my thoughts are so terribly noisy sometimes that I need the air flow lullaby to ease my mind and put me to rest. I'm okay with that, too.
But seriously, when I woke up with that chilling sensation, feeling cold and exposed, it wasn't so much a physical thing as it was psychological. I had to come down from the exciting weekend cloud, I suppose. My body uses strange coping mechanisms during even the slightest transitional periods. I go to sleep every night and define all of the events of my day. I define them, compare them, etc. Quite like how it's done in school. I want every day to count. I don't want my life to be a continuous string of weekends. My mom told me in 6th grade, after Justin Warren had died, something she'd learned from her experiences from dealing with breast cancer... how it's never worth it to her to sleep in past a 9 o'clock or so because she feels like she's wasting her life away, and she proceeded to tell me to "make every day count". I feel incredibly guilty if I sleep past 10 o'clock on a Saturday or Sunday, no matter how late I go to sleep the previous night. It's a great thing to do though, make every day count. It sounds pretty cliche, and I suppose it really is, but it's something that people tend not to take into consideration before they take their three hour naps or engage in other less-than-productive activities. And maybe there really is no such thing as wasted time, but there are a number of things that we do that we don't really account for. I often complain about not feeling fulfilled and I guess I'm to blame for that. I can't rely on other people to make me happy anymore. Everything is in my handz.
I feel so prepared for everything lately. Nothing seems outrageous to me anymore, nothing and nobody. It's the spontaneity factor in life that keeps me wanting more and more. When Sean and I were in the city, we were about to cross the street when we saw this very shady character wearing a long coat and some sort of a top hat, and he was dragging along a suitcase on wheels, and right as he began to cross the street he discarded the suitcase and it was left forlorn on the side walk, and then we heard some sort of a beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep. (Tick, tick, BOOM!) We both acknowledged the peculiarity of this and quickly headed in the opposite direction. I wonder what that was really all about. Maybe the beeping was in our heads. This kind of thing is what our parents tell us to look out for! Maybe it wasn't so spontaneous after all. Maybe.
My official NYS learners permit came in the mail on monday. I look like I'm in a lot of pain in my photo. I think I was at the time though. It'll be nice to show the webster hall bouncer just one card as opposed to messily rummaging through my bag to find all sorts printed identification. messy mess.
Speaking of mess
This picture is shitty and poorly illuminated, but look at the bonez. LOOK AT THE EXCEPTER RIB CAGE. Terrifying. Sean and I took a few extremely brief video clips. I should have gotten more.
I don't have much planned for this thanksgiving weekend. I suppose I'll go to see RENT at some point. I heard it wasn't too great, with the original cast being too old for their parts, and weak setting. A lot of the review's complaints seemed like they would be pretty valid, especially in saying that a movie that's trying to address issues such as losing ones dignity because of personal conflicts and disease, well, it's all sort of upstaged by everyones' concern with terrorism and natural disasters, and it's not half as inspirational as it is supposed to be. Wotever, I'll make my own evaluation soon enough.
My report card was okay. Not bad at all. That is that. I just helped my mom with stuff. I'm pretty tired now, I need to clean up my room for tomorrow and then I want to read a whole lot. I don't think I like turkey. Fuck. Look at Indian Aubrey at lunch today. Look at her.
Have a good one.