Saturday, February 21
You know, if they feel like it.
I’m trying to better understand the dynamics of my relationships. For instance, Adriana and I are both INFP’s, meaning we are completely identical in our thought processes. If however, we didn’t have similar interests, our relationship would fall apart. All I can say is: Thank God for pancakes.
(I’ve just had the ‘pancakes trump waffles’ argument with Vera. She is not amused by my insistence that they are round fluffy bites of heaven that can change your life, whereas waffles are merely a breakfast item. Okay, that’s a little on the ridiculous side, but whatever. You’ll still love me in the morning.)
I realize that all of my close friends are IN’s, but that’s not very surprising. Who likes extroverts anyway? ;)
My vacuum cleaner is a machine from hell. It doesn’t do anything. I lug the gigantic thing from room to room, hoping by some miracle it’ll work, but NO. It hates me. Well, I hate you too vacuum! You’re a super betch!
I’ve noticed that strange people are always coming up to me on campus. I wonder if I send out these signals or vibes that say, “Hey, come disturb my peace.”
Just yesterday, I was sitting by the reflection pond, singing to myself, when this complete stranger comes up to me asking me to describe how these photographs he had made me feel. We got into a very interesting conversation about life and meaning and happiness before I had to leave.
I don’t think I mind, actually. I like these chance encounters with people I’ll probably never see again. It keeps life interesting and reminds me that there are some really beautiful people floating around campus. Perhaps if I cared to, we would be friends some day.
I’m listening to Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night by the Fratellies. I love this song.
You could have been the best that I’ve seen
Under the red light but
Everybody knows you cried last night.
I’m pretty sure it’s about a stripper…but…you know, I still like it.
Well, I’ve got to get back to writing. I’m sort of being productive, though I’m not very inspired. I think it would be easier to write a book of poems. Of course, my poetry sucks worse than my prose.
Gah. There is no win here.
Monday, February 2
Billy Collins can undress Emily Dickinson as much as he wants---I just hope he realizes that someday a crazed fan girl is going to return the favor.
Hahaha. Just kidding. That would be really gross.
I should be reading Foucault. I should be wearing my hijab. I should be getting over him. I should be grown up.
But I'm not. I'm happily procrastinating, happily redefining myself, happily in the friend zone, happily a child.
Your negativity isn't going to get to me. I won't allow you to lord over me simply because you are miserable.
Take your bullshit to a Hufflepuff--- I know plenty of people who are more than willing to oblige. I'm just not one of them anymore.
"Stand up for yourself dammit! Know what you want and take it."
"I can't. I just…I can't."
"If you can't fight for it, you don't deserve it."
"I really don't."
"Fuck! You've been conditioned all your life to think you're worthless, but you're not! For once, just love yourself."
"Self-loathing builds strong walls."
"Then burn the walls to the ground. Love yourself more---more that your parents, more than the divine, more than your friends. You are worthy of love, especially your own."
"Am, I? It's hard to believe…"
"Yes. Yes, you are. Please believe me."
If anything, know that I'm here, in the same place, and am learning to love myself more----because it gets to a point where you just have to.
I am wonderful, lalalala
I am a demigoddess divine, lalalala
I am delusional and absurd, lalalala
I am a work in progress, lalalala