"You were so blue cool."
Another stupid entry. But this Sunday, I leave for about two weeks with Kara and go to other cities and states and events. I'm so fucking excited and maybe having something substantial to write about will resurrect my urge to actually write. Lately, so little has been happening outside of the realm of misfortune, that I practically dread coming to LiveJournal and posting. Even though it's been a rough month or so, I'm still 100% confident that this summer will be the best one ever.
Thursday morning, I got up and went down to Social Services to pick up a Food Stamps application, since I needed to re-apply. I waited in line for a half hour just to get one. Then I had to get dropped off at court, where I sat around for an hour before being called up. I was so annoyed by everything until a tiny Guyanese man with big glasses and a quiet voice was called up to face charges of revealing himself to someone. That was pretty hilarious. I got called up, was asked if I needed more time to finish my community service, I said yes, I was told to come back on May 27th. I was relieved I had that much more time to finish it, since I was going away on my trip with Kara no matter what and didn't want to be told I had to be home early in May. I sat on the ground at a corner and waited to get picked up, then got on my bike and rode to Schenectady High to meet Savahna, who had finally found time in her busy schedule to hang out with me. She was standing in an intimidating circle of people I didn't know. I'm always afraid of walking away from a group like that and creating a discussion about myself amongst them as I turn my back to leave. I like that Savahna isn't afraid of what people think about us being friends. It was really nice out, so the walk to her house was splendid. When we got there, we mostly just sat on her couch in the living room and talked and talked and talked, about a lot of things. Words come out of her mouth quickly and smoothly like she's been waiting for someone to give her a reason to say them. She has a beautiful cat with a stubby tail and pretty blue eyes that adores me. I couldn't keep my hands off of her. I had to be out of there by 5 because she's a little girl with a protective mommy and I'm a scary bearded man five years older than her. Before I left, she forced me into trying apple with peanut butter, a totally bizarre combination in my world. But it was actually fucking amazing somehow. She showed me the upstairs apartment that is vacant, gigantic, and unlocked, too. I wish a homeless person would move themselves in and squat it.
It was really nice out, so I didn't want to stop riding my bike. I rode slowly until I wound back up at my grandmother's. Luckily, Kara and them called and I met up with her and TJ at Muddy Cup. We walked to Tia's and intruded on her alone time, spending the latter half of the evening sitting on her porch as the sun set, talking about nothing while TJ found reasons to touch Kara and boast about his new prescriptions and newly diagnosed disorders that he denied the existence of but also couldn't stop bragging about. A group of weed smoking gangstas across the street had a pitbull puppy who ran over and touched noses with Tia's kitty (no bloodshed, thankfully) and a parrot that kept saying, "Hey, baby!" I forced Kara into leaving with me because I wanted us to be alone together. TJ got picked up by his parents and their giant truck was destroyed by several pounds of bird poop. It looked like a Jackson Pollock painting done with pigeon feces. Kara and I walked around the corner and quickly caved into our internal yearning for Chinese food. After three days of a PB&J-only diet, I was craving it hard. It's always such a good idea, too, until you're in the middle of it and you're already feeling sick. We sat and ate in as the rain started coming down. We were acting like a couple and it really messed with my head a little bit, as I'm sure it did her as well. After eating, we walked in the rain to my grandmother's and waited for her to get picked up. My boxspring had come in the mail. My grandmother insisted on having one, even though we don't have a mattress to put on it. She said we'd use her inflatable one.
The next day, there was an art exhibition at Proctors for Schenectady High students and both Bianca and Savahna had stuff being displayed in it. So we all met downtown for it and gathered with the rest of the crowd upstairs where everything was hung up. Both Bianca and Savahna had sculpted things. Bianca's thingy was really fucking cool. And she was dressed up really pretty, as always. Bianca's one of my prettiest friends, I think, and I had to let her know, shortly after stealing her plain pink hoodie that fit me so snuggly. We all walked around and browsed the artwork, which for an area where the only art are stickers that say EXIST in an ugly font on them over and over and over again, was exceptionally good, even for assignments. I liked so many things I saw there, but not as much as I liked some of the girls who showed up for it. There was one girl who was painfully attractive. In such situations, I try to convince myself that their personalities probably are ugly, but TJ insisted on creepily following her. As an innocent bystander, it looked creepier than I thought it could from afar. There was a table of yuppie snacks (various blocks of cheeses and crackers with bottled waters) and another table with a tumbler where people were inserting votes for their favorite piece. Of course, we all voted for Bianca, who could have won a $1,500 scholarship from SEFCU if chosen. I knew deep down no matter what, the money would probably go to a rich kid who could already afford college, because that's how these things always turn out, but I insisted on all of us putting several votes in each. Bianca pointed out an art teacher from Central Park, Mr. York, who actually was mine in the 6th grade. He was pretty cool. He's tall and skinny and has a monotone sarcasm in his voice and words. She asked him if he remembered me and he said, "Who could forget dave gunn?" After hearing my plot to rig the contest, he made sure to keep his eye on me for most of the time we were up there. I got at least six votes in behind his back, though, as did TJ. We saw Savahna, but I was afraid of her mother and avoided eye contact. The place was over-crowding pretty bad, so we all decided to evacuate and not even bother hearing who won the raffle.
We went downstairs and sat around by the windows of Muddy Cup, trying to talk to each other over some loud jazz shredding happening on the small stage around the corner from us. I gave $15 to a homeless feeding program that offered food to you if you paid them, but I told them to keep the food, because the idea of donating to feed the homeless and being fed myself seemed kinda backwards. I went across the street to the convenience store that closes in the middle of the afternoon and bought some Snapple, then came back to sit some more. I was anxious to find out if Bianca won, but after several trips back and forth between upstairs and downstairs, we never found out and everyone disappeared. We all took the bus to my house and decided to turn the lights off, eat Chinese food, and watch a bloody horror film. TJ had to go home because of some kind of lapse of reason from his parents, but in a cosmic turn of events, Bianca was allowed to stay over until midnight. I moved the couch around and set everything up nicely and then we put the movie The Collector, an explicitly gory film about a human collecting serial killer who sets up elaborate booby traps, like a dining room filled with bear traps or a chandelier of knives, to catch his prey. It was pretty fucking awesome and so was sharing Chinese food. While eating some vegetable lo mein, Tia uncurled what was the longest noodle any of us had ever seen in any of our lives. Everyone slowly left. Tia was the last to go, after Bianca left to walk home in the rain. In exchange for stealing her pink hoodie, I let her borrow my straightedge-vegan one I made. While bidding her farewell, I asked my grandmother why she was still awake, since she's usually in bed by 11, and she told me, "I'm not going to sleep until your company leaves." I asked her why and she said, "That's just the way I am." So I let her know she was being pretty stupid and that I wasn't sure when Tia was leaving. But within seconds, her goal of making me feel bad for unintentionally 'keeping her awake' (since apparently me having company means she'll refuse to go to bed) was a success and I went down to yell about it some more. I asked her, "So what if I want someone to stay over night? Will you stay in that chair downstairs all night?!" and she said, "I don't know." It was the stupidest thing ever. I knew ahead of time living with an authority figure would not work out, but I had nowhere else to go. Tia eventually left, halfway through the movie Gentleman Broncos, which was too funny to watch without everyone else present, we decided.
Longest noodle EVER.
The next day, my grandmother and I set up my bedroom with a lame bedframe and the boxspring and moved the extra furniture into the other guest bedroom. it was exhausting and annoying, mostly because I've never understood the purpose of a bedframe. But since I live with an elderly woman with an unwritten code of arbitrary standards, I am 'supposed' to have my bed on a bedframe, covered with sheets. When I told her I wanted it against the corner of the wall, because that's where I wanted it, she mumbled, "I don't know where you get that idea," all appalled. When it was all done, we turned on the inflatable mattress and let it fill with air. It looked and felt pretty uncomfortable right away, but so is life. I was called by Tia, Kara, and TJ and ended up walking halfway to meet them and return to my house. When we got there, Bianca was sitting on the front stairs waiting for us. We all went up to my bedroom and tried to find places to sit, though there were few comfortable positions now that the couch was gone. The inflatable mattress kept deflating every couple of minutes without anyone noticing. You'd get up and you'd discover you were on a deflated bed the entire time. It sucked. At first, we just channel surfed the television, since I was trying to give Gemma time to meet up with us. But after over an hour went by and she still wasn't on a 55 to Schenectady, we started without her and put in Gentlemen Broncos a hilariously awkward movie by the guy who wrote Napoleon Dynamite. Unlike that film, this was actually ridiculously funny, mostly thanks to Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords. I love that man. By the end of the movie, Gemma was calling saying she was at the corner of my street. So we all walked to meet her and basically tell her we were all separating already and her trip was in vain. I wanted us all to keep hanging out, so I suggested we all go to Tia's for a sleepover, since we could watch movies there, it would make Gemma's two-bus trek worth something, and since my grandmother is a psychopath and told me she didn't want people there past 11. But I had already told Kara I'd stay overnight at her house and just the mention of changing those plans made her a teary mess who started yelling at me and crying for no reason. It was frighteningly insane. Girls scare the shit out of me when they do shit like that.
After twenty minutes at that corner, we all decided to go back to my place. Bianca walked home, TJ got picked up, and I talked Gemma into going back to Tia's with her and becoming acquainted. I still went to Kara's house for the night, even though the entire ride there was silent and uncomfortable, since I do not deal well with crying, particularly of the crazy and unprovoked kind. When we got to her house, we went to her bedroom and talked and everything was all better after we spent some time in the dark. My old cat Olive scratched at the door, obviously eager to see me, and was being all adorable near me. After a while of just laying in bed together and listening to music, we went downstairs and booked our hotel in New Jersey, then purchased our tickets to day two of Bamboozle, since the first day does not seem worth going to in the slightest. It's probably the weakest lineup I've ever seen. It should still be really fun, though. We also browsed the map of our itinerary for the first half of the trip and oozed over how much nature and city we'll spend time in. We're both so fucking pumped for this trip together. It's exactly what the both of us need in order to avoid nervous breakdowns. We sat on the computer together for a while, eating cold Chinese food, then went to sleep to Blink-182's "Take Off Your Pants and Jacket" album, while trading stories about where we were in life at the time of the album's release.
lolz.
Sunday, I slept in with Kara until 3:30. It was so ridiculously comfortable being in a bed instead of on a tiny wooden couch and holding someone instead of a pillow. She's a great sleeping partner. It was the first time she'd actually slept in with me; she usually wakes up and sits around, staring at me or the darkness or something equally creepy. Just as we woke up, her father awkwardly opened the door and said, "Time to get up!" A little bit later, he gave me a ride home. A little after I got in, Gemma called me and said she was downtown and bored, so I rode my bike down there and met her. We walked from one corner to the next, dumbfounded by how empty and boring a city could be, then ended up sitting down at a corner and talking while smelly cars and loud motorcycles passed by us. I like that Gemma and I can talk for a really long time. Unfortunately, the fact of her age still somewhat freaks me out. Partly because she doesn't act anything like her age and partly because there's part of me still conditioned into believing there's something really odd about two people hanging out despite a nine-year age difference. I got some tofu covered in mild wing sauce from Bombers and it was surprisingly delicious, then walked to Muddy Cup to get some drinks. We had to walk by Laura Esmond, who I recognized immediately and thought to myself, "Oh, jeez." She was with two other girls I didn't recognize. They have taken out the other half of the coolers usually filled with drinks. The machines are only filled once a month or even less frequently in Schenectady's Muddy Cup. One time, they just sat there with less than fifteen beverages inside of them and the lights turned off. This day was no different, with only a couple Jones Sodas and Snapples. We opted for the Jones Soda and she got some Orange Cream flavor that almost made me vomit. It tasted exactly like this stomach medicine I was on for a while when I was younger.
Walking toward the exit doors, I said to Gemma, "Oh, man. Now these two girls I don't even know probably think something horrible about me because they're friends with Laura!" By the time I passed by them, I realized the one was Molly and the other was Tara. I had mistaken Tara's freckles for acne. I kept walking casually although it felt like I had swallowed my own jaw. The more footsteps I took, the stronger the panic attack I began to have. It was the first time I had seen her since September. Gemma tried to reason with me and remind me that everything I thought she was never was her, but I couldn't wade through the fog of good memories and amazing sex and happy times and only wound up depressed. I called Tia and woke her up to tell her we'd be stopping by. After a short discussion on how badly we wanted to break glass bottles sometimes, Gemma became proactive and chucked her Jones Soda bottle across a sidewalk, sending it bursting into pieces against the MVP building. It was awesome, but I couldn't bring myself to do the same. We walked up to Tia's house together and laid around there for a while on her bed while she sat on her computer. They had become acquainted the night before until 3AM and I'm glad they got along because I kinda knew they'd hit it off pretty well and I love when my friends are friends with my other friends. We eventually got out of there because I was feeling incredibly depressed and Gemma's mother was yelling at her via text; something only rich girls deal with, I suppose. We walked for several blocks before I dropped her off onto a bus and bid her farewell. I updated my journal to liberate my misery and it was eventually attacked by Tara, who couldn't for the life her ignore the fact that someone had an opinion of her. Her ignorant, immature, boring comments to me reminded me that the person I knew never existed and that I am by all means better off without her. I'm glad I posted it and glad she commented it, because it was the closure I needed. I'm not sure why I liked a spoiled rich girl who drank, smoked, shopped at American Apparel, and lied to me over and over again, anyway. I spent several hours on Tumblr like a loser. I think I've finally weeded out the decent Tumblrs from the lame ones.
Earlier that day, the Adirondacks Animal Rights group staged a protest against the animal testing that happens in Albany Med. Gemma had joined in, as did Sarah and Lin. I did not. Not only because I knew it would be a pathetic excuse for a protest (only ten people showed up for it), but because I personally don't believe protest works. I don't only think it is unsuccessful in changing anything, but I think it's unsuccessful in getting the word about something out, even. Ten people standing outside of a building on the side of the road with signs bearing the same slogans campaigning against something isn't going to really awaken anyone to any new thoughts as they zoom by in their car and flip you off or honk their horn at you. Fact of the matter is, the only way you're going to end things like animal testing in a hospital laboratory in your area is if you suck it up and firebomb the fucking place. Don't get me wrong, I am not willing to do such a thing, because I cherish my freedom. I also don't blame anyone else for not doing that. But the fact still remains that the only way you're going to get things done, or eradicate a branch of a problem you see in your world in this country, is through direct action. And the only way you're going to open people's minds up to new ideas is by actually talking to people. It got some minimal local news coverage, but aside from that, not even a dent was made and everyone went to eat free pizza and patted themselves on the back or whatever for a job well done. I'm glad people care, but there is no productivity in small-scale protesting. Watch this video on animal testing, if you get the chance:
I slept from 9:30 at night until 2:30 in the morning and then couldn't get back to sleep. I became engrossed in an episode of Forensic Files on TV, then went downstairs to use the computer and occupy myself until I knew my grandmother would be waking up. We went to Price Chopper early in the morning and she offered to buy me some food and make me pancakes. I got together everything I needed to re-apply for Food Stamps: the application, my grandmother's Social Security card, verification that I lived there from her, proof of address from a piece of mail, and a birth certificate. I needed one more piece of pointless information: a verification of benefits letter from Social Security. It was all so stupid, because all they need to do down at Social Services is type in my Social Security number and everything they'd ever need to know about me would be on file before their eyes. But you have to jump through their hoops, I guess. So at 9, we went down and sat for a half hour to get the verification letter, then went and waited for a half hour to drop everything off. When it was my turn in line, she told me she didn't need anything from me but the application. Figures. The lines at Social Services remind me just how diverse the poor community really is. I also called my ex-landlord again about my deposit. Once again it was a, "Oh-a, I get it to you-a tomorrow, definitely this time!" When I went home, I went back to sleep for a few hours, then went to the library to pick up some movies. Boy Meets World over and over again was beginning to lose its charm that particularly night and there was nothing on TV as usual, so I needed a movie or two to maintain sanity. I picked up the original Planet of the Apes to compensate for not being able to see it on the big screen the night before. I watched the movie Atonement and absolutely loved it, then spent most of the night on the computer, talking to my special someone on AIM.
Tuesday, I woke up around 2 on my deflated mattress when the wood of the boxspring was beginning to press into my ribs and hipbones. The last couple of days, I have been waking up feeling incredibly tired, like no amount of sleep seems to be enough; chronic fatigue syndrome or something. But I had shit to do again, so I forced myself awake. Apparently because of more dreams about being itchy, I woke up with a layer of skin missing from right where the front of my leg meets where my foot begins. A circle of raw skin covered in pus and stinging really bad as I pulled it from the blanket it was sticking to was accomplished in my sleep, from vigorously grinding the heal of my left foot with a sock on against it. I had to have been working on it in my sleep the entire night. It hurt so bad and I've noticed sleeping alone has been making me destroy myself unconsciously. Driving around with my grandmother, I offered her $10 for gas for driving me everywhere in her dying car, but she refused, so I opened up her pocketbook and stuffed it in there. I had to buy new headphones and then got on the 55 to Albany to finally get my deposit back. While sitting down next to a man who was wearing his baby on the front of his body, the thing started touching my arm and sleeve and I had to slowly lean far away. Babies really gross me the fuck out, especially their little hands and feet and saggy skin that's too big for their muscles and bones. When I got off, I saw my old roommate Adam coincidentally walking down the street toward me with groceries. I ignored him, because all I would have done is cause a scene.
And then I went into Sol's coffeeshop to retrieve my $300 from him. At first, he tried to tell me 'they' had told him I left behind damages to the walls; scrapes or something, 'from my bed'. I immediately told him I was the cleanest person in the apartment and that I didn't have a bed frame, so it was impossible for me to have caused scrapes on the wall. He kept shrugging like it didn't matter what I was saying and then laid out $240 in front of me. I looked at him and said, "I'd like my deposit back in full." He repeated that 'they' had told him I left behind damages and he had to pay $70 in repairs. I asked who 'they' were and he said the man who fixed it. I think he was lying to me. After some stern demanding of my full deposit, he walked to his register and gave me the other three $20 bills that were rightfully mine. I left him saying, "Thank you for being a good person," and walked back to get on the same bus I came in on. Somehow, it took two and a half hours just to go to Albany, get off, grab money, and get back on and into Schenectady.
I met Kara downtown and we walked together to one corner and back again with, as usual, no clue as to what to do with ourselves in Schenectady. I went to my bike, which was thankfully still locked up outside of Proctors where I left it, but someone (and it's pretty fair to assume it was Tara and/or Laura and/or Molly; whichever bitter rich girl who hates me) thought it'd be funny to take three different bike locks and lock my bike up with them so I couldn't get it back. But within minutes, I had a helpful janitor from Proctors handing me over bolt cutters so I could cut them and get my bike. Nice trick, but mostly just pathetic on their part. Tia met up with us and we walked in the nice weather back to my grandmother's house to sit around, talk about this and that, and watch The Sasquatch Gang, since I have to show everyone I know that movie and its wonderful and hilarious awkwardness. It became 9PM really quickly and we just watched some Boy Meets World until 10 when Tia left and a half hour later when Kara got picked up. Then I sat on Formspring and someone linked me to something Burgundy wrote about me in hers (apparently, her high-status college lifestyle still allows for online trends like that site, who knew?!). It didn't make me feel much of anything. I was mostly just shocked at how comfortable she has remained about being a horrible person...
Do you still have feelings for Davegunn? do you ever think of the good times the two of you shared and miss him?
I have sat back and tried to conjure up the emotions of love that I thought I had for davegunn. I can't find them anywhere within me. I can't remember what I loved or even liked about him. I can't even remember any 'good times' I had that were a result of him. We went to shows, which were fun, but they were fun because I was seeing a band I liked, not because dave was there. I honestly can't remember what it feels like to care about him at all, which is sort of sad, but that's just the truth. I can only think of how I pitied him so much and all I ever wanted was to fix this completely broken human being. I stopped wanting to fix him when I realized that he doesn't deserve to be fixed - he is just a downright cruel person and he lives a pitiful life because of his own conscious actions, so when I stopped feeling bad for him.. I stopped feeling anything at all for him.
It was another 4/20 and I'm sure plenty of potheads celebrated by... doing the same thing they do every day. Little do most of them know, it's also Hitler's birthday!
He's actually 121 now, but you get the point.
In other news, I lost five pounds.
More bullshit on my Tumblr; more insane/inane questions on my Formspring that you can add to!
Thursday morning, I got up and went down to Social Services to pick up a Food Stamps application, since I needed to re-apply. I waited in line for a half hour just to get one. Then I had to get dropped off at court, where I sat around for an hour before being called up. I was so annoyed by everything until a tiny Guyanese man with big glasses and a quiet voice was called up to face charges of revealing himself to someone. That was pretty hilarious. I got called up, was asked if I needed more time to finish my community service, I said yes, I was told to come back on May 27th. I was relieved I had that much more time to finish it, since I was going away on my trip with Kara no matter what and didn't want to be told I had to be home early in May. I sat on the ground at a corner and waited to get picked up, then got on my bike and rode to Schenectady High to meet Savahna, who had finally found time in her busy schedule to hang out with me. She was standing in an intimidating circle of people I didn't know. I'm always afraid of walking away from a group like that and creating a discussion about myself amongst them as I turn my back to leave. I like that Savahna isn't afraid of what people think about us being friends. It was really nice out, so the walk to her house was splendid. When we got there, we mostly just sat on her couch in the living room and talked and talked and talked, about a lot of things. Words come out of her mouth quickly and smoothly like she's been waiting for someone to give her a reason to say them. She has a beautiful cat with a stubby tail and pretty blue eyes that adores me. I couldn't keep my hands off of her. I had to be out of there by 5 because she's a little girl with a protective mommy and I'm a scary bearded man five years older than her. Before I left, she forced me into trying apple with peanut butter, a totally bizarre combination in my world. But it was actually fucking amazing somehow. She showed me the upstairs apartment that is vacant, gigantic, and unlocked, too. I wish a homeless person would move themselves in and squat it.
It was really nice out, so I didn't want to stop riding my bike. I rode slowly until I wound back up at my grandmother's. Luckily, Kara and them called and I met up with her and TJ at Muddy Cup. We walked to Tia's and intruded on her alone time, spending the latter half of the evening sitting on her porch as the sun set, talking about nothing while TJ found reasons to touch Kara and boast about his new prescriptions and newly diagnosed disorders that he denied the existence of but also couldn't stop bragging about. A group of weed smoking gangstas across the street had a pitbull puppy who ran over and touched noses with Tia's kitty (no bloodshed, thankfully) and a parrot that kept saying, "Hey, baby!" I forced Kara into leaving with me because I wanted us to be alone together. TJ got picked up by his parents and their giant truck was destroyed by several pounds of bird poop. It looked like a Jackson Pollock painting done with pigeon feces. Kara and I walked around the corner and quickly caved into our internal yearning for Chinese food. After three days of a PB&J-only diet, I was craving it hard. It's always such a good idea, too, until you're in the middle of it and you're already feeling sick. We sat and ate in as the rain started coming down. We were acting like a couple and it really messed with my head a little bit, as I'm sure it did her as well. After eating, we walked in the rain to my grandmother's and waited for her to get picked up. My boxspring had come in the mail. My grandmother insisted on having one, even though we don't have a mattress to put on it. She said we'd use her inflatable one.
The next day, there was an art exhibition at Proctors for Schenectady High students and both Bianca and Savahna had stuff being displayed in it. So we all met downtown for it and gathered with the rest of the crowd upstairs where everything was hung up. Both Bianca and Savahna had sculpted things. Bianca's thingy was really fucking cool. And she was dressed up really pretty, as always. Bianca's one of my prettiest friends, I think, and I had to let her know, shortly after stealing her plain pink hoodie that fit me so snuggly. We all walked around and browsed the artwork, which for an area where the only art are stickers that say EXIST in an ugly font on them over and over and over again, was exceptionally good, even for assignments. I liked so many things I saw there, but not as much as I liked some of the girls who showed up for it. There was one girl who was painfully attractive. In such situations, I try to convince myself that their personalities probably are ugly, but TJ insisted on creepily following her. As an innocent bystander, it looked creepier than I thought it could from afar. There was a table of yuppie snacks (various blocks of cheeses and crackers with bottled waters) and another table with a tumbler where people were inserting votes for their favorite piece. Of course, we all voted for Bianca, who could have won a $1,500 scholarship from SEFCU if chosen. I knew deep down no matter what, the money would probably go to a rich kid who could already afford college, because that's how these things always turn out, but I insisted on all of us putting several votes in each. Bianca pointed out an art teacher from Central Park, Mr. York, who actually was mine in the 6th grade. He was pretty cool. He's tall and skinny and has a monotone sarcasm in his voice and words. She asked him if he remembered me and he said, "Who could forget dave gunn?" After hearing my plot to rig the contest, he made sure to keep his eye on me for most of the time we were up there. I got at least six votes in behind his back, though, as did TJ. We saw Savahna, but I was afraid of her mother and avoided eye contact. The place was over-crowding pretty bad, so we all decided to evacuate and not even bother hearing who won the raffle.
We went downstairs and sat around by the windows of Muddy Cup, trying to talk to each other over some loud jazz shredding happening on the small stage around the corner from us. I gave $15 to a homeless feeding program that offered food to you if you paid them, but I told them to keep the food, because the idea of donating to feed the homeless and being fed myself seemed kinda backwards. I went across the street to the convenience store that closes in the middle of the afternoon and bought some Snapple, then came back to sit some more. I was anxious to find out if Bianca won, but after several trips back and forth between upstairs and downstairs, we never found out and everyone disappeared. We all took the bus to my house and decided to turn the lights off, eat Chinese food, and watch a bloody horror film. TJ had to go home because of some kind of lapse of reason from his parents, but in a cosmic turn of events, Bianca was allowed to stay over until midnight. I moved the couch around and set everything up nicely and then we put the movie The Collector, an explicitly gory film about a human collecting serial killer who sets up elaborate booby traps, like a dining room filled with bear traps or a chandelier of knives, to catch his prey. It was pretty fucking awesome and so was sharing Chinese food. While eating some vegetable lo mein, Tia uncurled what was the longest noodle any of us had ever seen in any of our lives. Everyone slowly left. Tia was the last to go, after Bianca left to walk home in the rain. In exchange for stealing her pink hoodie, I let her borrow my straightedge-vegan one I made. While bidding her farewell, I asked my grandmother why she was still awake, since she's usually in bed by 11, and she told me, "I'm not going to sleep until your company leaves." I asked her why and she said, "That's just the way I am." So I let her know she was being pretty stupid and that I wasn't sure when Tia was leaving. But within seconds, her goal of making me feel bad for unintentionally 'keeping her awake' (since apparently me having company means she'll refuse to go to bed) was a success and I went down to yell about it some more. I asked her, "So what if I want someone to stay over night? Will you stay in that chair downstairs all night?!" and she said, "I don't know." It was the stupidest thing ever. I knew ahead of time living with an authority figure would not work out, but I had nowhere else to go. Tia eventually left, halfway through the movie Gentleman Broncos, which was too funny to watch without everyone else present, we decided.
Longest noodle EVER.
The next day, my grandmother and I set up my bedroom with a lame bedframe and the boxspring and moved the extra furniture into the other guest bedroom. it was exhausting and annoying, mostly because I've never understood the purpose of a bedframe. But since I live with an elderly woman with an unwritten code of arbitrary standards, I am 'supposed' to have my bed on a bedframe, covered with sheets. When I told her I wanted it against the corner of the wall, because that's where I wanted it, she mumbled, "I don't know where you get that idea," all appalled. When it was all done, we turned on the inflatable mattress and let it fill with air. It looked and felt pretty uncomfortable right away, but so is life. I was called by Tia, Kara, and TJ and ended up walking halfway to meet them and return to my house. When we got there, Bianca was sitting on the front stairs waiting for us. We all went up to my bedroom and tried to find places to sit, though there were few comfortable positions now that the couch was gone. The inflatable mattress kept deflating every couple of minutes without anyone noticing. You'd get up and you'd discover you were on a deflated bed the entire time. It sucked. At first, we just channel surfed the television, since I was trying to give Gemma time to meet up with us. But after over an hour went by and she still wasn't on a 55 to Schenectady, we started without her and put in Gentlemen Broncos a hilariously awkward movie by the guy who wrote Napoleon Dynamite. Unlike that film, this was actually ridiculously funny, mostly thanks to Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords. I love that man. By the end of the movie, Gemma was calling saying she was at the corner of my street. So we all walked to meet her and basically tell her we were all separating already and her trip was in vain. I wanted us all to keep hanging out, so I suggested we all go to Tia's for a sleepover, since we could watch movies there, it would make Gemma's two-bus trek worth something, and since my grandmother is a psychopath and told me she didn't want people there past 11. But I had already told Kara I'd stay overnight at her house and just the mention of changing those plans made her a teary mess who started yelling at me and crying for no reason. It was frighteningly insane. Girls scare the shit out of me when they do shit like that.
After twenty minutes at that corner, we all decided to go back to my place. Bianca walked home, TJ got picked up, and I talked Gemma into going back to Tia's with her and becoming acquainted. I still went to Kara's house for the night, even though the entire ride there was silent and uncomfortable, since I do not deal well with crying, particularly of the crazy and unprovoked kind. When we got to her house, we went to her bedroom and talked and everything was all better after we spent some time in the dark. My old cat Olive scratched at the door, obviously eager to see me, and was being all adorable near me. After a while of just laying in bed together and listening to music, we went downstairs and booked our hotel in New Jersey, then purchased our tickets to day two of Bamboozle, since the first day does not seem worth going to in the slightest. It's probably the weakest lineup I've ever seen. It should still be really fun, though. We also browsed the map of our itinerary for the first half of the trip and oozed over how much nature and city we'll spend time in. We're both so fucking pumped for this trip together. It's exactly what the both of us need in order to avoid nervous breakdowns. We sat on the computer together for a while, eating cold Chinese food, then went to sleep to Blink-182's "Take Off Your Pants and Jacket" album, while trading stories about where we were in life at the time of the album's release.
lolz.
Sunday, I slept in with Kara until 3:30. It was so ridiculously comfortable being in a bed instead of on a tiny wooden couch and holding someone instead of a pillow. She's a great sleeping partner. It was the first time she'd actually slept in with me; she usually wakes up and sits around, staring at me or the darkness or something equally creepy. Just as we woke up, her father awkwardly opened the door and said, "Time to get up!" A little bit later, he gave me a ride home. A little after I got in, Gemma called me and said she was downtown and bored, so I rode my bike down there and met her. We walked from one corner to the next, dumbfounded by how empty and boring a city could be, then ended up sitting down at a corner and talking while smelly cars and loud motorcycles passed by us. I like that Gemma and I can talk for a really long time. Unfortunately, the fact of her age still somewhat freaks me out. Partly because she doesn't act anything like her age and partly because there's part of me still conditioned into believing there's something really odd about two people hanging out despite a nine-year age difference. I got some tofu covered in mild wing sauce from Bombers and it was surprisingly delicious, then walked to Muddy Cup to get some drinks. We had to walk by Laura Esmond, who I recognized immediately and thought to myself, "Oh, jeez." She was with two other girls I didn't recognize. They have taken out the other half of the coolers usually filled with drinks. The machines are only filled once a month or even less frequently in Schenectady's Muddy Cup. One time, they just sat there with less than fifteen beverages inside of them and the lights turned off. This day was no different, with only a couple Jones Sodas and Snapples. We opted for the Jones Soda and she got some Orange Cream flavor that almost made me vomit. It tasted exactly like this stomach medicine I was on for a while when I was younger.
Walking toward the exit doors, I said to Gemma, "Oh, man. Now these two girls I don't even know probably think something horrible about me because they're friends with Laura!" By the time I passed by them, I realized the one was Molly and the other was Tara. I had mistaken Tara's freckles for acne. I kept walking casually although it felt like I had swallowed my own jaw. The more footsteps I took, the stronger the panic attack I began to have. It was the first time I had seen her since September. Gemma tried to reason with me and remind me that everything I thought she was never was her, but I couldn't wade through the fog of good memories and amazing sex and happy times and only wound up depressed. I called Tia and woke her up to tell her we'd be stopping by. After a short discussion on how badly we wanted to break glass bottles sometimes, Gemma became proactive and chucked her Jones Soda bottle across a sidewalk, sending it bursting into pieces against the MVP building. It was awesome, but I couldn't bring myself to do the same. We walked up to Tia's house together and laid around there for a while on her bed while she sat on her computer. They had become acquainted the night before until 3AM and I'm glad they got along because I kinda knew they'd hit it off pretty well and I love when my friends are friends with my other friends. We eventually got out of there because I was feeling incredibly depressed and Gemma's mother was yelling at her via text; something only rich girls deal with, I suppose. We walked for several blocks before I dropped her off onto a bus and bid her farewell. I updated my journal to liberate my misery and it was eventually attacked by Tara, who couldn't for the life her ignore the fact that someone had an opinion of her. Her ignorant, immature, boring comments to me reminded me that the person I knew never existed and that I am by all means better off without her. I'm glad I posted it and glad she commented it, because it was the closure I needed. I'm not sure why I liked a spoiled rich girl who drank, smoked, shopped at American Apparel, and lied to me over and over again, anyway. I spent several hours on Tumblr like a loser. I think I've finally weeded out the decent Tumblrs from the lame ones.
Earlier that day, the Adirondacks Animal Rights group staged a protest against the animal testing that happens in Albany Med. Gemma had joined in, as did Sarah and Lin. I did not. Not only because I knew it would be a pathetic excuse for a protest (only ten people showed up for it), but because I personally don't believe protest works. I don't only think it is unsuccessful in changing anything, but I think it's unsuccessful in getting the word about something out, even. Ten people standing outside of a building on the side of the road with signs bearing the same slogans campaigning against something isn't going to really awaken anyone to any new thoughts as they zoom by in their car and flip you off or honk their horn at you. Fact of the matter is, the only way you're going to end things like animal testing in a hospital laboratory in your area is if you suck it up and firebomb the fucking place. Don't get me wrong, I am not willing to do such a thing, because I cherish my freedom. I also don't blame anyone else for not doing that. But the fact still remains that the only way you're going to get things done, or eradicate a branch of a problem you see in your world in this country, is through direct action. And the only way you're going to open people's minds up to new ideas is by actually talking to people. It got some minimal local news coverage, but aside from that, not even a dent was made and everyone went to eat free pizza and patted themselves on the back or whatever for a job well done. I'm glad people care, but there is no productivity in small-scale protesting. Watch this video on animal testing, if you get the chance:
Click to viewI slept from 9:30 at night until 2:30 in the morning and then couldn't get back to sleep. I became engrossed in an episode of Forensic Files on TV, then went downstairs to use the computer and occupy myself until I knew my grandmother would be waking up. We went to Price Chopper early in the morning and she offered to buy me some food and make me pancakes. I got together everything I needed to re-apply for Food Stamps: the application, my grandmother's Social Security card, verification that I lived there from her, proof of address from a piece of mail, and a birth certificate. I needed one more piece of pointless information: a verification of benefits letter from Social Security. It was all so stupid, because all they need to do down at Social Services is type in my Social Security number and everything they'd ever need to know about me would be on file before their eyes. But you have to jump through their hoops, I guess. So at 9, we went down and sat for a half hour to get the verification letter, then went and waited for a half hour to drop everything off. When it was my turn in line, she told me she didn't need anything from me but the application. Figures. The lines at Social Services remind me just how diverse the poor community really is. I also called my ex-landlord again about my deposit. Once again it was a, "Oh-a, I get it to you-a tomorrow, definitely this time!" When I went home, I went back to sleep for a few hours, then went to the library to pick up some movies. Boy Meets World over and over again was beginning to lose its charm that particularly night and there was nothing on TV as usual, so I needed a movie or two to maintain sanity. I picked up the original Planet of the Apes to compensate for not being able to see it on the big screen the night before. I watched the movie Atonement and absolutely loved it, then spent most of the night on the computer, talking to my special someone on AIM.
Tuesday, I woke up around 2 on my deflated mattress when the wood of the boxspring was beginning to press into my ribs and hipbones. The last couple of days, I have been waking up feeling incredibly tired, like no amount of sleep seems to be enough; chronic fatigue syndrome or something. But I had shit to do again, so I forced myself awake. Apparently because of more dreams about being itchy, I woke up with a layer of skin missing from right where the front of my leg meets where my foot begins. A circle of raw skin covered in pus and stinging really bad as I pulled it from the blanket it was sticking to was accomplished in my sleep, from vigorously grinding the heal of my left foot with a sock on against it. I had to have been working on it in my sleep the entire night. It hurt so bad and I've noticed sleeping alone has been making me destroy myself unconsciously. Driving around with my grandmother, I offered her $10 for gas for driving me everywhere in her dying car, but she refused, so I opened up her pocketbook and stuffed it in there. I had to buy new headphones and then got on the 55 to Albany to finally get my deposit back. While sitting down next to a man who was wearing his baby on the front of his body, the thing started touching my arm and sleeve and I had to slowly lean far away. Babies really gross me the fuck out, especially their little hands and feet and saggy skin that's too big for their muscles and bones. When I got off, I saw my old roommate Adam coincidentally walking down the street toward me with groceries. I ignored him, because all I would have done is cause a scene.
And then I went into Sol's coffeeshop to retrieve my $300 from him. At first, he tried to tell me 'they' had told him I left behind damages to the walls; scrapes or something, 'from my bed'. I immediately told him I was the cleanest person in the apartment and that I didn't have a bed frame, so it was impossible for me to have caused scrapes on the wall. He kept shrugging like it didn't matter what I was saying and then laid out $240 in front of me. I looked at him and said, "I'd like my deposit back in full." He repeated that 'they' had told him I left behind damages and he had to pay $70 in repairs. I asked who 'they' were and he said the man who fixed it. I think he was lying to me. After some stern demanding of my full deposit, he walked to his register and gave me the other three $20 bills that were rightfully mine. I left him saying, "Thank you for being a good person," and walked back to get on the same bus I came in on. Somehow, it took two and a half hours just to go to Albany, get off, grab money, and get back on and into Schenectady.
I met Kara downtown and we walked together to one corner and back again with, as usual, no clue as to what to do with ourselves in Schenectady. I went to my bike, which was thankfully still locked up outside of Proctors where I left it, but someone (and it's pretty fair to assume it was Tara and/or Laura and/or Molly; whichever bitter rich girl who hates me) thought it'd be funny to take three different bike locks and lock my bike up with them so I couldn't get it back. But within minutes, I had a helpful janitor from Proctors handing me over bolt cutters so I could cut them and get my bike. Nice trick, but mostly just pathetic on their part. Tia met up with us and we walked in the nice weather back to my grandmother's house to sit around, talk about this and that, and watch The Sasquatch Gang, since I have to show everyone I know that movie and its wonderful and hilarious awkwardness. It became 9PM really quickly and we just watched some Boy Meets World until 10 when Tia left and a half hour later when Kara got picked up. Then I sat on Formspring and someone linked me to something Burgundy wrote about me in hers (apparently, her high-status college lifestyle still allows for online trends like that site, who knew?!). It didn't make me feel much of anything. I was mostly just shocked at how comfortable she has remained about being a horrible person...
Do you still have feelings for Davegunn? do you ever think of the good times the two of you shared and miss him?
I have sat back and tried to conjure up the emotions of love that I thought I had for davegunn. I can't find them anywhere within me. I can't remember what I loved or even liked about him. I can't even remember any 'good times' I had that were a result of him. We went to shows, which were fun, but they were fun because I was seeing a band I liked, not because dave was there. I honestly can't remember what it feels like to care about him at all, which is sort of sad, but that's just the truth. I can only think of how I pitied him so much and all I ever wanted was to fix this completely broken human being. I stopped wanting to fix him when I realized that he doesn't deserve to be fixed - he is just a downright cruel person and he lives a pitiful life because of his own conscious actions, so when I stopped feeling bad for him.. I stopped feeling anything at all for him.
It was another 4/20 and I'm sure plenty of potheads celebrated by... doing the same thing they do every day. Little do most of them know, it's also Hitler's birthday!
He's actually 121 now, but you get the point.
In other news, I lost five pounds.
More bullshit on my Tumblr; more insane/inane questions on my Formspring that you can add to!