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[02 Dec 2009|04:55pm] |
Hhheeeeeeyyyy EllJay! It has been almost 3 months since I've written in here. I have written a lot this month but have neglected this particular blog/journal, and really it is about damn time. Did a little back-reading but it didn't do much good, all these entries are depressing as hell, and I am supremely happy right now. New boyfriend? Is that all it takes? I should stop acting surprised because, yeah, that is all it takes. GRIN SMILE TEEHEE.
Thinking I have figured out what I want as far as relationships go. Simple, odd I haven't really realized it before. All I want is long-term over and over. As much as I pretend I like random play, what I really want is real commitment and adoration, love. But I crave the newness of fresh relationships, I do so enjoy the chase and first kisses and learning about one another. I don't want to get married. I don't know that that will ever change- it would take a very, very special person for me to want to spend my life with them. I change my mind too much. A series of long-term romances, lasting 1 to 5 years, for the rest of my life. And sometimes I do desperately want children, but it would be unfair to any child I brought into this earth. Adoption, maybe. Will this change? It's possible, because I wanted to marry basically every boyfriend I've ever had. But I am only 22 and for now, what I have is so lovely.
I'm wild about the new boy.
My job consists of hanging out with my two best friends on earth, my boyfriend, and a few other good friends. And free soup. Mmmm. I love it. I really do.
Thrilled about this absurd show, this nativity light fest. Excited to be doing something like this again, though I've never done anything like this.
And subliiiiiime.
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[22 Sep 2009|07:07am] |
Seriously. Eyes wide trying to shake the thoughts from my head. It is not the nightmares of death, of monsters and demons that truly get to me. It's that realistic bullshit, that dream that even makes sense as a reality and it is painful enough to pull me from sleep. And I have this desire to call someone, anyone, some voice that could save me from my own poison thoughts. But that's bullshit. It's seven in the morning and I'd only be disappointed, not soothed but feeling guilty to hear that groggy voice. God, I'm so fucking sorry. Just sick to my fucking stomach.
So this dream, this nightmare, it hurts this much, forces me to write which at least helps a little, a little. And I'm truly responsible for creating a true nightmare, a living dream like this, I'm a fucking terrible person...Ben. I'm constantly thinking of Ben and I'm such a dick. Seriously. It's too early for this shit, and I am actually writing this. Why not write it somewhere less public? Less bloggy and all over the internet? Who the fuck knows. Talking to Zak as he fights insomnia, wondering if it'd be worth it to get out of this bed to buy cigarettes. Trying to figure out if these tears are just the yawning allergy early morning shit or if I really am that out of it.
It is supposed to be like this, I'm not supposed to be like this. Fuck. And it doesn't even matter, does it?
Trapped in my bed, trapped in my head until this phase passes.
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[20 Sep 2009|11:48am] |
I'm just so tired. It's a terrible time to write a blog because I'm in the middle of a nervous spaz, but maybe it will help? I'm going to be a wreck at work today. I'm such a worthless daughter. You wanna ask me to mow the lawn? Be prepared for me to scream and swear and cry cry cry. I don't know why my mom puts up with me living here again, I should seriously be out of here. 2 years on my own and of course I couldn't hack it and of course I'll always be unhappy because either the rent is cheap and there's someone nagging at you or I have glorious freedom but fuck up my life and turn my money into paper confetti. I work a lot but not really too much but it will never ever be anough money and all I want is for my cat to be healthy but fuck if it doesn't dissolve a month's pay just to get her up to date. A new 'maintenence required' light blinks on my car and I still need new tires and those chips in the window fixed and my alignment done again and I'm sure some other fucking shit but I don't know what I'm doing. And this isn't supposed to be that kind of journal, Katee, this is the kind of shit that I want to write but no one wants to read and it would have a better place in my myspace blog but every time I look at that shit I want to cry. Fucking terrible people.
God I'm so miserable and I have this shiny bouncy happy reason to be bright and smile and thank my lucky stars and I can barely enjoy it because I'm such a crazy fuck.
Why can't I just calm the fuck down?
Honestly and truly, I need some sedatives or antia-anxietals or at least some more weed. Fuck.
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[30 Aug 2009|11:03am] |
I haven't gotten out of bed today. My new room arrangement puts a desk close enough to my bed, and my laptop close enough to a window...it's lovely in fact. Free wireless, bedside. I can blog and fluff and stumble without ever having to face the world outside my room. It's amazing the kind of difference a slight change of scenery can make. Put the bed over here, throw this ugly thing away, turn this toybox into a table. And viola! It's like a whole new place. Something needed stirring up.
It's all different now. I'm a swirly little cyclone of self-disgust, regret, and nagging apathy. But not really altogether unhappy.
I wish, sometimes, I was better at being a private person. I can't keep secrets, it's a well-known fact, I can't keep my mouth shut even to save myself embarassment or judgment I don't want. Why does every person I work with need to know all about my relationship? Because I see them every day. Because I wore make-up to work, because my facebook status changed. Because they asked and God knows I can't lie. I can lie about self-injury and drug use, occasionally, but only because I've had years of practice. When it comes to things like this, I would really love for everyone to be in the dark, but I keep repeating the story. Avoiding conversations with some people because I know I'll tattle o myself, because I don't want to see the look in their eyes and really I don't want to hear about it. My brother and my mom, the two people I love and respect ad listen to most in my life, tell me the same thing. I should have kept my mouth shut, they said. But even when I want to keep a secret, those words press at the back of my teeth, they dance on my tongue and bite the inside of my cheeks until I allow them to spill out like blood from a split lip. It's not truly willingly, but it can't be helped.
Oh I struggle, struggle struggle. Am I a bad person? Worse than I was before the trip? Worse than the average American? I've often said I'm no worse, no more belligerant or snotty or nosy than most, I'm just more vocal about it. And knowing what my shortcoming are make it ok, too, right? I'm just honest. And a yingyang. We are all dark and light, there is good and bad inside each of us and I just have to embrace the good a little bit more. Go back to school, this winter. Maybe find a better job. Start the apartment search? Make some new friends? Not to ever discard the old ones, just to get a new perspective, you know. One is silver and the other gold.
I'm a jealous person and I have no reason to be. I'm a hungry person and they're cooking something downstairs.
I'm a drowsy person and I am still all cozy in bed.
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[25 Jul 2009|10:17am] |
Oooooh, LiveJournal. Watching Prison Break only draws me to you- giggling at LJ's 'distraught' face. Mmm. For hating tv, I will watch that show endlessly.
I haven't posted in some time...I haven't even posted in Myspace and that's where I write my mindless unimportant entries. I try to save the poignant stuff for this one, but it rarely seems to work out that way. I used to have an LJ- Katees_cute....which was nothing but pictures. Now facebook kind of makes that obsolete, or something.
Technology, always technology tearing us apart. Oh, the technology angle isn't right- but here's something interesting.
So I work tonight at the Southfield Zoup. Hopefully my old manager will be closing with me, but it's possible he won't, and I'll be with only strantgers. Black strangers, for that matter. Ok, so let's talk about why that bothers me. I try to stay away from the word racist, except semi-jokingly among friends, but I am...ok...a little prejudiced? I grew up in a town with one singluar black kid (adopted by a white, Northern family) and then the suburbs here, a town that is one of the whitest cities per area in the entire country- though miles away from one of the blackest cities, a city that doesn't exactly have a reputation for being friendly. So, that's what I like to blame it on, but there's obviously more to it. I've never been close to a black person. I've had a few friends, most of them with pretty 'white' tendancies, but have nevere truly gotten to know anyone who's a real urban african american. Black girls piss me off. At my self-segregated high school, they're just LOUD and kinda snooty or overly-defensive or something. And I swear, mulato gilrs are totally different. And the language differences...I don't understand, will never understand the complete disregard for grammar, even when we're getting the same education. This is not always the case. Always, I'm generalizing. Stereotyping, a little. But some black bitch robbed me when I was just trying to help her out! Ahhhhh fuck. Tonight will be a good lesson for me, and it'll have to be because I work that store 2 times next week, too. What happened to the Novi store? What happened to my extra hours there? I guess they don't need me, but I felt like I was guarenteed time out there. Whatever. Fuck work. This is why people got o college.
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[06 May 2009|02:02pm] |
Ah, I have made it home safely! I spazzed pretty intensely over my fear of the 2 hour drive on *gasp* the freeway, but naturally I did just fine, though I have come to question why there are speed limits at all- someone will be riding my ass even if I am approaching 90mph. I like to drive the speed limit but I hate being near other vehicles. Yeah, driving. Fuck.
So much for taking a nap before work. I guess, though, some things are more refreshing than a little snooze could ever be.
I wish our world wasn't so dependent on technology. I mean, other than the fact that we're fucked when the big electrical board or whatever crashes...I'd rather talk to a person any day. Fuck these robots, fuck the phones and computers and machines that separate us. It is often convenient, but people rarely use these things for the right reasons. Maybe it just is easier to be free when you're not face to face. Maybe I'm thankful. Thankful and aware of the advantages, but bitter and lonely. That kinda sums it all up, right?
My weekend was pretty nice. I like Amanda and I LOVE Ben and
Corona, whooooeeee cinco de mayo! We can do it five times!
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[30 Apr 2009|11:31am] |
Blah I am feeling pretty weird. Buspar makes me really like...twitchy/dizzy/tingly for like an hour after I take it. It also kinda fucks with my stomach, but everything does, and I think I'm calmer. Maybe.
I wish I didn't constantly lose everything. Pretty much every non-digital photo I have ever taken...and totally missing. So much for scrap-booking today...and I don't quite feel beading so I see writing being a big one today. I'll find the pictures eventually, probably. In looking for them today I stumbled upon another old keepsake box with a ton of my childhood toys. A couple barbies, Polly Pockets, this and that blahblahblah.
Last night at like 2AM I ran around my house is circles trying to wrangle all the animals- Chuck, Nilla, and Clover were all giving themselves walks- this I what I get for letting the dogs out, trying to be helpful. It was pretty rediculous.
Oh, livejournal.
Fuck.
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[08 Apr 2009|08:58am] |
Again I am awake far too early, cold and unable to stay in bed. The sun is out but there is still white on the ground and that is just absurd.
Yesterday was such, such a shitty day. It started out quite shitty and if it weren't for Laura coming to act as a living breathing xanax, I'd've been forced to sedate myself... somehow. I am amazed I didn't break the fuck down at work. It was busier even than our lunch rush, with just 2 fucking people and I was not in the fucking mood for it. I have no idea how I managed. Seriously. Fuck.
I am so itchy today I am literally tearing my skin with all the scratching. Perhaps I have fleas/chiggers/a severe allergy/lice/black plague. I need to sleep in a small, sterile, pitch black box. And I need some kind of injectable that includes an anti-anxietal, anti-depressant, allergy medication, Prilosec, caffiene, and vitamins. This is a shot my box should be able to administer itself, acting as an alarm clock of sorts. Ah, and then my days would be lived out fun and fancy-free. What a fantasy.
Maybe I should just tear all my skin off and listen to some sad poppunk as I bleed to death. AHAHA I'm really not depressed. I'm frantic. Frenzied. Twitchy. The full moon is coming up... my anxiety has been far worse than any kind of sadness lately. Seriously, I'm just a spaz. Is there a medicine for that?
Brrrrrrrrrr. I wanna drriiiiink.
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[24 Mar 2009|11:16pm] |
I've been watching too much Lizzie McGuire, and I only own two disks of the show so this means I am watching segments, poorly copied ten minute clips of the amazing Disney series. She is a terrible fake crier, but her character is pretty damn lovable. She's all about honesty and that really works for me. There's a few episodes when she gets caught trying to be 'bad' because she is basically incapable of lying. I'd like to say I'm the same way, but I have told a convincing lie once or twice in my day. I don't like lying, I try to avoid it at all costs, unless it's something about CCC or self-injury. Those I'll lie about with little or no after-thought. Though recently I haven't needed to lie about either of those things because I haven't felt the need. Pretty cool.
But anyway, it drives me fucking bonkers to be accused of lying or of being a deceitful person. It even makes me nervous to be in situations when there's even a chance someone might think I'm lying or being dishonest- I get all twitchy and awkward when they talk about drawers being short at work even though I'm pretty fucking innocent. I'm content with stealing cookies and the occasional quarter from the tip/penny jar. Why the fuck would you think I'm a liar? I'm just not. I'm an honest person and very much myself, though sometimes I act more chipper than I feel. Fuck- I want people to see the real me, but it just isn't the same if I have to explain to them who the real me is.
I despise having liars in my close circle. I mean real liars; not fibbers or those who want to please with false flattery. Drug addicts seem to have a thing for lying, it's part of the affliction, I know, but it doesn't really make it ok. Even when people are lying to others and not to me, I get uncomfortable about it. I especially dislike when people lie to themselves. Because I know they know the truth in their heart of hearts, why are they avoiding it? It makes me fucking furious, honestly- dishonesty is fucking STUPID and you only end up hurting people.
So let's try to be down-to-earth, folks. Like one little lj entry would ever change anyone's behavior.
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[06 Mar 2009|12:54am] |
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It's just really fucked up. All I can keep thinking is, it's so fucked up. I've lost a few grandparents and an awesome uncle, but until today I never really knew what it was like to lose a peer. To suicide, no less. And I'm just kind of numb and I don't really know and my stomach really hurts. I guess this is what growing up is- friends get pregnant, friends get married, and friends die. Ah, and my memories of Derek are so silly- the party at his house when I vomitted everywhere and passed out in his bed, and of course the sledding trip, speeding down deadman's hill and taking out the light up skiier. Man, it's just really hard to believe and just makes my stomach hurt so bad. And I'm all alone, except for this cat, Ben is hours away and John tends to sleep at a reasonable hour. So it's been a very twisted week, the kinds of experiences I've never really had before, and I just don't know how to feel. Really, all I can focus on is my poor stomach, and what the fuck? It's so fucked up. He still has a facebook. WHAT THE FUCK. My stomach hurts.
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[24 Feb 2009|11:29am] |
Oh livejournal, my old friend. I've thought about you a lot these last few weeks, and still nothing. Here I've been preparing for my dear friend to get married and I haven't even written a goddamned LJ about it. Spending obscene amounts of money lately. And it's weird because I have the money, I have this job now too so it's even slightly renewable. Hundreds of dollars, though, just gone gone gone. But my dress- now that it finally fits I am less wary of it. I might even look good in it, shocking as that may seem. I could seriously scream I'm so excited to get my hair done. A real true salon job with real dye and a fancy cut and every thing. I may even get a mani/pedicure. Holy shit, formal events. And this little toast I'll be making is kind of wracking my nerves. I think I am an awesome public speak though, so we'll make it happen.
Laura is so pleasant and I am so pleased she's in town. And then coming home soon, and living with me in a lovely little house with Ben and all kinds of retro furniture and a terribly behaved little cat. We may not have fantasized about it quite enough this week, but it's going to be a reality in a few months. I just hope I can figure something out for work. To be transferred to the Grand Rapids ZOUP! would be ideal, but a real waitressing job would probably kick a lot of ass too. Anything to keep some bucks in my pocket, you know? Or maybe Laura and I will hit it big in some metro-detroit film. I have been missing acting a bit lately. I may not have the right face or voice for it...but fuck. I can always play character roles, mother fucker.
Last night Amanda and I were able to display our beer pong prowess...it breaks my heart whenever deuche bags win at things. But hey, runners up is nothing to shake a stick at. Or something. Fuck I love that goddamned bar- Livonia area kids- go party at PY Stix. It's not even a chain. Family owned. Fuck yeah. Blah. I'm kinda hung over. And they played MSI twice but Amanda and Laura still wouldn't make out with me. I wish the bachelorette party had gone over better once we got to PY. I don't know if it's a very good sign for the bride and groom to get into a fight at their bachelor(ette) parties. Er. I go back and forth on this issue a lot, and marriage is supposed to be forever but I dunno. That's a pretty long time. I guess I won't think about it, because they're getting married in 5 days. FUCK.
I have a country song stuck in my head. I sang the fuck outta that song last night. Goooddddddd.
Oh look, what a lovely little lj posting.
Love love love.
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[17 Nov 2008|11:03pm] |
It has been too long and I'm always writing in my myspace blog. This one is probably a better idea because fewer people read it and I tend to care about it a little more, I think. Try to make it a little less, um, stupid. That being said...
I like the rumbly purring sound happy cats make. Look at my userpic. I really like my cat. Err...
Elipses! I need to buy my ticket to LA like, last year. Procrastination. Fuck you.
I love my job and I love my friends but the spinning of the earth makes me super crazy.
Still wearing a smiley-faced VIP bracelet from some bar. It was kind of an amazing time. I was all anxious and frantic when I first got there because I just had Melissa to follow around, but I chilled with Kari's brother just a little bit and once I got a few beers in me I felt less socially terrified and awkward and just danced. I fucking love Melissa and I wish I hung out with her more and wasn't such an asshole. I also love Cyril and I also love Mackenzie, so there really is no excuse here. I'm sorry and I love you.
Oh, and I danced with some random guy! This may seem like a small thing to most girls my age, but it's not really my scene. All night I was thinking to myself, "you should just go dance against some guy. Or ask that guy or that guy if he's here with someone or wants to dance." And then like 15 minutes before last call, some random dude gestured to me so I left Mel's side and spun and weaved with some guy. His name is Doug but it doesn't matter. It wasn't like that. I hope I never talk to him again (though we did exchange numbers). It was just a drunken thing that I think people do all the time and it was pretty sweet. Fuck. I can't remember if he was cute. But whatever. I know I looked good that night and oh, I had fun. Humm.
It's getting quite cold and there's a lovely smell in the air.
Oh, thing are gonna be alright.
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[04 Nov 2008|10:57pm] |
I haven't looked at LJ in long enough that every entry on my friend's page was one I hadn't read.
So my heart and my stomach are in constant pain. As Gabe seems to think, broken hearts end up in your stomach, so maybe it all makes sense. Maybe anxiety will make my guts hurt for the rest of my life. And how long will that be, exactly? I thought harder about killing myself today than I have in a very long time. A bottle of vodka fell out of the freezer at my feet, and there are so many pills of so many varieties in this house. It's stupid though. I probably would've just ended up puking a lot anyway. Instead of cutting my hand off or making a poison smoothie, I watched Prison Break and slept for five hours, after getting up to go and vote. Yippee, by the way. Medicinal Marijuana and a fucking Democrat for once. Hmm.
It's really over, now. Maybe it has been for a long time, but now it's finalized. Cut, seal, print. Fuck. To think that now it's really REALLY over, no more Baby B, no more forever. Maybe it really is time to get that tattoo changed, because it'll never mean the same thing ever again. Maybe it's time to delete all those pictures and maybe it's time to...move the fuck on. I wasn't ready but, well. It's my own damn fault. I should have fucking called him. It's my own damn fault and I didn't deserve to be treated that well anyway. It's my own damn fucking fault. Part of Borderline Personality disorder is sabatoging your own relationships. Setting yourself up for heartbreak. So. As I said. It's my own damn fault.
Forget me. It's that simple.
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[25 Oct 2008|07:34pm] |
I'm tired and sad.
Ben is coming to save me from myself soon. For now, John is making me not so alone. I wish I had Jill. Maybe I will.
I make bad decisions sometimes. It feels so good in the moment, but now I'm all depressed and should probably keep a sticker on my hand at all times. It was fun but...I have problems. We all have problems.
Will you still be my friend?
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[18 Oct 2008|12:39am] |
I have a fucking headache.
Vanilla Wafer is quite interested in the fishtank, and I think it makes sense because she's a cat. I like when I take benedryl because I means I can pet her all I want without fear of my eyes exploding.
Kalamazoo tomorrow! I haven't quite exactly figured out transportation but I haven't been back to my college town since moving "home". I think I'll do that thing I do where I 'forget' to bring my phone charger and then have no communication while I'm out of town. A little mini escape-type deal. It's been a while since I've pulled that one, and I kind of like it.
There's all these pictures up on facebook of the FLLC staff and it breaks my heart into tiny pieces, because I miss it. People keep trying to talk to me about Jesus, and then I've got this deep sorrow over being away from Fortune Lake, and maybe something somewhere is trying to tell me something somewhat? There is nothing like the feeling FLLC gives me. That place...is...so...amazing. I wish I could go back to being a camper, a kid. Or redo my summer as a staffer and not be so crazy or something. I really really really miss it. It hurts like a break up, honestly. I don't get it.
I'm communicating with this person soley over the internet, and it's kind of weird but I like it...hm. That is literally all I will ever say about that. Huh.
I want to go to sleep. Love ya, lj.
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[27 Sep 2008|01:27pm] |
It's my 21st birthday tomorrow. And my twenty-first birthday PARTY tonight. I always have mixed feelings on birthdays and parties but I am not anxious and crazy, I am fucking excited as FUCK. Seriously, I know Jill and Melissa and Gator have pulled together something amazing, I was freaking out for a little while because it seems none of my friends can be jolly good friends with all of my other friends at any given time. I suppose that's true for everybody, though. But there's going to be a good group. I wish Laura could be here, I would kill to see Laura, literally kill someone if it could bring her here. And Kari is going to her stupid roommate's stupid party, but fuck her, I guess. Her loss. But for the most part everyone I need will be there to celebrate with me, Chelsea and Casey will do the bar scene on Sunday so I get to see all of em, yipppppeeeee!!! And there will be streamers and fog and alcohol of course, and halloweenishness and I'm so fucking...pumped. I'm sitting here writing in LJ, listening to Bright Eyes and I'm just happy as a clam. Huh.
yippeeyipeeeeeyippepee.
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[14 Sep 2008|07:29pm] |
I've been working on this metaphor. It's a puzzle thing, the puzzle piece metaphor. It's pretty obvious, but as a metaphor...I don't know. Maybe it's already been done. Something about how easily the two pieces slip together when they're built to fit. Something about how you can't force them to fit, and if you do just shove the little pieces together, it fucks up the entire picture, makes it impossible to finish the puzzle itself, makes fitting all the other pieces into it very confusing and frustrating. Ok, now apply it to real life. To love, to work, to school, to everything. Whatever. Doing a puzzle shouldn't be this hard.
The smallest little things can set me off. Even said with a giggle, some words that are so not meant to be harsh just cut me to the bone. Small simple perfectly natural words, and I'm faking smiles the rest of the evening. Maybe it stems from being honest, which is good, but I have a hard time pretending to be a mood that I am not, which is often bad. Because the things that make me depressed really probably shouldn't make me feel so...so.
This is just the same old cycle, the same old thing and I've been through it dozens of times and I would be lying if I said this feels different. Don't be so stupid Katee, and stop hurting other people just because you can't make up your fucking mind.
Oh, LJ. Thanks for listening.
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[02 Sep 2008|02:41pm] |
Mmm, the last day of summer (for most.) Since I'm not going to school until next semester, I still have a few months of freedom. Ish.
It is fucking hot as hell outside. I can't even handle it. How I love air conditioning.
I turn twenty one like really soon. Not sure yet what the festivities will be, maybe a little shindig at Gators if he can remove the grandparents. Maybe a bar or two? Chillin' at Chasey's getting politely wasted? We shall see, friends, we shall see.
Oh, I have a date this week- I totally forgot about it. Kinda awkward cuz I'm not even remotly attracted to the guy, but he's taking me to the Ann ArborChildren's Museum, and I just cannot pass up hands-on fun. First date since parting ways with my darling Ben, and I know it cannot possibly match up to the first date Ben and I had...teehee. But I'll probably have a little bit of fun.
I'm allergic to my kitten and it's quite distressing to wake up sneezing and suffocating on mucous every night. Oh, Benedryl. My one savior.
Ok, time to read my friend's page and find out what's up with all of YOU.
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[28 Aug 2008|03:14pm] |
Regression is a bitch
but please
please
don't make me grow up...
I cannot handle the real world.
Here comes Autumn, here comes crushing, debilitating depression.
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[24 Aug 2008|01:57am] |
I'm stupid drunk. Not like so so drunk, but stupid. Fucking stupid. And I had a very pleasant evening, by most standards, but it's one of those nights where I cringe every time I look in a mirror and want to hide my face under blankets and slice myself violently. Maybe just because I'm drunk. Maybe because I took Prozac for a few days and then stopped. But thank goodness Vanilla Wafer is here because this house is empty except for she and I and there are razors abound. Stop being so fucking depressed, you asshole. As if that might help. I' m writing surprisingly well for the amount I've had to drink, which isn't a lot by most standards but I am indeed drunk and an asshole. Yes, all my dear friends will comment and say what an asshole I am not, but it does not change the face I see in the mirror.
Just try it. Disabled, motherfuckers.
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