Vodka makes me start trouble

Last night I went out for a friend of a friend's 21st birthday. That seems to be the only reason that I've been going out this year, but I'm fine with that. Before we went to the bar, we stopped at the liquor store to buy a couple pints of liquor so that we didn't have to spend our hard earned spending cash on a $4.75 Long Island Iced Tea. I bought a pint of Smirnoff and a pint of Bacardi at a shady little place on the south side of Chicago that doesn't accept anything but cash.

We get to the bar and it has a decent turn out, but I felt a little awkward since I only knew two people there, one was drunk already and the other was my designated driver. I filled a small cup with some vodka and downed it in three gulps, chased with Sierra Mist. It almost came up for about 20 seconds, but I fought it back down. I wanted to get drunk and I wanted to get drunk quickly. Within 15 minutes the pint of Smirnoff was gone. I didn't drink it all, my friend had a few shots of it as well, but I did consume most of it along with two Long Islands. Rocker was bartending at the restaurant where he moonlights and was periodically texting me. We had gotten in a fight earlier that day, which is a long story, but if I can't share it on an anonymous blog, where can I share it?

It started when he mentioned a few things about people on some guitar forum were talking about Kirk Hammet's latest guitar being unveiled. My cousin, who is also a big guitar enthusiast, was interested in looking at it, so I asked Rocker what the website address was and everything. He told me the address and I started browsing it too after I had directed my cousin to it. I wasn't happy with what I found. There was a "Metallica in Chicago" post so obviously I wanted to see what some other fans had thought about the show and such. I was scrolling down through the repetitive "They fucking rawked!" posts when I saw a post from someone that had the exact same screenname that Rocker uses on AIM. I kind of laughed because I thought it was funny that he would use the same name for multiple uses. When I read what he wrote, however, I was pissed. "I'll tell ya what dude, if my gf decides to throw a bitch fit about going, you can have her ticket." Gf? Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?

I immediately slapped myself in the fucking head for ever thinking that I could trust someone whom I've never even met. I texted him and told him that I found it and that I also found something else that was pretty interesting. I informed him of what I saw and he did the typical what are you talking about thing. He tried calling me from work, but I pressed the F U button and it went straight to voicemail. He texted me and asked me what my deal was and that the internet was not serious business (his exact words). He called again and left a voicemail when I rejected the call again, saying that he was single and that the internet was not serious business. Yeah, I had understood that you don't think the internet is serious business from your text, asshole.

I told him that I was going to start stupid bullshit over someone/something that I didn't know and that if he was dating someone, then it was cool, but to lose my number. He insisted he was single and asked me what my deal was again. Well, my deal is that I don't like being fucked with, even if I don't "know" you, have a little respect for my potential feelings and not be a complete dickbite. I told him that this whole thing was weird for me and that I had genuinely started to like him and that I didn't want to get fucked with. He told me that he liked me too and that he had thought he made that clear. I told him to just drop it and that if he says he's single then I'll believe it.

As I calmed down, I started to rationalize a few things. He calls me all the time and when he's not calling me, he's texting me. If he really had a girlfriend, I'm pretty sure she would have noticed something was up. Maybe he was trying to boost his ego or something on the guitar forum. Whatever, it didn't matter.

I told him to leave me alone for awhile and that I needed to take a nap to prepare myself for going out that night. Within five minutes he texted me saying that he missed me. I didn't respond back. I was still seething a little bit. Irish temper and all I suppose. When I get pissed off, I don't see anything clearly for a good hour.

Anyway, later that night, we exchanged some texts. I was trying to break him out of his shell a little bit but was not having any luck at all. He told me that he was going to bed because he had an early morning with Bromance (a guy who he's learning new guitar techniques from). I told him whatever, that I had planned on forcing phone sex on him, but that I suppose Bromance was more important. He replied that he was already in bed and to have a good night. Wow, what a fucking rejection. I was a little pissed by this, especially after he had fouled up earlier in the day, you think he would have appeased my horniness. Nope, didn't happen.

If you couldn't tell already from previous posts, I'm kind of a habitual tipsy texter/drunk dialer. I scrolled through my address book and landed on a guy friend that had been one of my best friends growing up. We had a falling out our freshman year of college when he came to visit me on my 19th birthday and ended up hooking up with one of my friends here after he told me he had to leave because he had work early in the morning. Enter Irish temper here again.

We hadn't talked in quite awhile, nothing more than happy birthdays, how's the family, mundane chit chat. I called him at like 2am and he surprisingly answered. We talked about random shit for awhile and I told him that I hooked up with Douchebag, a mutual friend. He laughed and I told him that he was highly disappointing. He told me that Douchebag's current girlfriend is the proud mother of two and is only 19. Ah, well if that doesn't make me as happy as a unicorn shitting a rainbow, I don't know what would. We talked some more and I hung up when I felt that I was getting a little too risque, I mean I did have two other people in the car listening in.

I texted him and told him he was lucky that I didn't try to seduce him into coming over and I got no response. Until this morning. "How were you going to seduce me?" Ah, fuck. Vodka got me into trouble.

I woke up with three text messages, two from Rocker, one from ex-BFF. Damnit, I hate when I'm double dipping like this. Ex-BFF and I exchanged about an hour and a half's worth of dirty texts and he asked me what I was doing tonight. Well...I have nothing planned, so we decided that he was coming over.

Shit. Didn't I just get pissed at Rocker for saying he had a girlfriend on an anonymous guitar forum and here I am planning on hooking up with a boy from my past? One with whom there's always been sexual tension. Fuckkkkk me, I know this probably isn't good.

I have logic for it, though. Rocker and I are not official. We haven't even talked about being official. Ex-BFF and I know there probably wouldn't be something there that we'd pursue and it would probably turn into a FWB situation at the very most. Is it wrong to hookup with someone who I've always had a little crush on when I like someone else, but we have never met?

I don't know. If Rocker asks me what I'm doing tonight, I'll tell him that I'm hanging out with an old guy friend probably. And now I just remembered that Rocker always calls me to say goodnight, every night without fail. Am I going to press the FU button again on him because I've got a mouthful of cock? Will I be the type of girl that holds my hand over Ex-BFF's mouth to make sure Rocker can't hear that another guy is in my bed?

I don't have any answers and I don't know how far I'll go with Ex-BFF. I guess all I have to say is stay tuned for more.

Nothing Else Matters

As my previous post said, I went to see Metallica on Monday night. I went with some of my guy friends because none of my girlfriends seem to like Metallica. We got stuck in traffic for an hour, so we missed the opening acts of The Sword and Machinehead, unfortunately. We got to our seats and I couldn't sit still. I looked around at the crowd and was glad to see that there was a relatively diverse audience. When one thinks of Metallica fans, I doubt they think diversity. Admittedly, my first thought is a Union worker in his early to late 30s that listens to them on the drive home from work in his truck to unwind.

As I looked around, there were some girls there, of all ages surprisingly. The oldest lady I saw there was probably around 60 years old and looked like she had a damn good time, too. There were mostly guys, some with long hair, some with strict buzz cuts who were wearing nice jeans and a pretty nice shirt and polished shoes. There were Mexicans, whites, and a few black people there. It was fun to look around during some songs and see different kinds of people pumping their fist in the air.

On to the music. I was blown away by Metallica's show. Maybe it was because it was my first time seeing them live, but I truly was entertained for almost 3 hours. I was sweating by the second song, feeling the heat from the pyrotechnics and constantly moving as they rocked out.

We had pretty good seats in the upper level, but it wasn't like we were that far away from the stage. The way the venue was set up was a pit level for people who bought floor seats, than a level that was away from the center of the arena (think hockey rink) and then the upper levels. We were in the first upper level, not the furthest level. As Metallica walked on stage in complete darkness with only a green laser light squiggling light onto the stage, I got goosebumps.

When they played their first song, I could have probably cried because it was so awesome already. The spotlight flashed to James, wearing a black t-shirt, tight jeans, and a faux-hawk, which was surprisingly super hot on him. I don't know if I've ever wanted to fuck a man more than in that moment when I saw James on stage. Wait, that's not true. I never wanted to fuck a man more than when James did his signature grunt in "Enter Sandman." I was getting wet over some guy singing on a stage. Weird? Perhaps. It happened nonetheless, and I had a great dream about fucking James the night after the show, so it worked out well for my fantasies.

I never sat down during the entire concert and part of me wished that I would have gotten floor seats so that I could be right by the stage, but I was afraid that I would get beat the fuck up in a mosh-pit, so I bought the real seat tickets. Next time, I'll buy floor seats for sure. Rocker, who also had tickets that night and the following night, was in the pit and I periodically scanned for him in a sea of anonymous faces to see if I could recognize him. Of course I didn't, it was probably statistically impossible for me to do so, but I just felt the need to do it.

When they played "Nothing Else Matters" I got a huge smile on my face and my cousin, who went with us, asked me if that was my favorite song or something. "No, it's not my favorite. The boy I'm talking to has played it for me on his guitar, so I guess I'm just thinking of him." I thought about Rocker during the entire song and was wondering if he was thinking of me, too. I wanted to be with him in that moment, to share it together and to know that it meant something for both of us.

Speaking of Rocker, we still haven't met. I'm getting sick of saying that, but whatever. It'll happen when it happens I suppose. Last Wednesday, I went out to a bar with a my friend and we met up with my cousin and some of his friends. Because I'm broke and so is the friend I went with, we shared a bottle of rum before we left to the bar, chugging as much as we could and chasing it with the can of Sierra Mist I had in my fridge. The bottle emptied and I saw my red reflection in the mirror, thanks to my Irish heritage, I get red in the face whenever I drink liquor quickly.

By the time we got dropped off by my friend's fiance, we were drunk. I was texting Rocker, nothing terrible or risque. He was bartending, so he couldn't talk much, but he sure responded more after I sent him a picture of my outfit. He clearly liked it, and I took the opportunity to flirt with him via texting when I was in between mingling. I told him that I wanted him and he told me that he felt the same, but that he doesn't take advantage of girls that are drunk. I can respect that and I really should stop texting when I'm drunk because it could be interpreted as being a tease. After having two long island iced teas, I was well on my way to being trashed. I was being suprisingly tame with Rocker, only hinting at how much I wanted him and not even saying anything truly dirty. I wondered if he was having dirty thoughts about me as he was working. I liked thinking of him thinking of me. When I got back to my room, he called me and told me goodnight and that he really liked me, but that was the end of it. No phone sex, no nothing. I didn't know if I was disappointed or not, but it is what it is.

Saturday I went to a ball-yes, a real ball all Cinderella-ish-at my school. It's an annual black tie fundraising event that many rich people in the county and surrounding areas attend to donate money to my lovely school. During the day, Rocker knew that I had to go get my hair and make-up down for the ball, so he texted me throughout the day. He was at his friend's house jamming and learning some of the new band's songs. I asked him if his friend was teaching him any new finger techniques and he replied, "Yeah. For you." Ahh, he got my little innuendo. I told him that I'll have to let his friend know how they worked out and if I approve. Rocker didn't take the bait really, he just told me that he liked me and that I was funny. Ugh. Yes, I'm funny. But, come on, talk dirty to me or something. Take the bait that I'm so easily laying out for you. I know you like me and you know I like you, so what the fuck is the problem here? Ask me out on a date, ask me if I want to go to one of your shows, ask me something that involves us meeting for Christ sake.

I really don't like being frustrated like this, but for now at least I can look forward to James Hetfield pounding me in my dreams.

Dry Throat

Just got back from the Metallica concert. Throat is sore as shit, feet hurt, ears ringing, panties wet, exhausted. Update later.

Your mistakes are haunting me

I woke up around 7:45 this morning from a dream that left me sleep-crying, that awkward whimpering and tears that happen while you sleep and makes you feel like shit when you awaken from its stranglehold. I slid my phone open to check the time and tried to lay back down and think about my dreams. I remembered one and figured that it was the cause of the sleep-crying. It was a dream about my dad's affair. This isn't the first time that I've dreamed of my dad's affair and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. It was, however, the most disturbing of the dreams that have been related to his affair.

This first thing that I remember about this dream is sitting down in the front room (or parlor or fronch as we sometimes say in Chicago) and my dad was sitting at the kitchen table, which is only 10-15ft away from the chair I was sitting at, talking on the phone. After a few minutes of him talking on the phone, I got the impression that he was talking to the whore that he had an affair with. I walked over to him and demanded to see his phone, which he became protective off and tried to shut as I grabbed it out of his hands. When I got the phone, I heard her say my dad's name and asked if he was okay. I flipped my shit in the dream, as I'm sure I would have done if it had really happened. I hung the phone up and punched my dad in the face as he sat at our kitchen table. The punch wasn't as effective as I had probably hoped and he was still sitting upright in the dining chair, so I shoved him and got in his face and said, "How the fuck are you doing this AGAIN?" He just stared at me kind of blankly, this emotionally detached look that only further pissed me off. He looked like an innocent little kid that got caught sneaking into the kitchen to get a snack before dinner. I didn't understand how he was being so fucking complacent as hot tears were streaming down my face and dripping on his shirt as I hovered over him. I slapped him and told him to get the fuck out of the house. The dream gets a little foggy here and the next part that I remember is a little disjointed from this point. I was on the stairs coming down from my bedroom to the kitchen area when I picked up my dad's phone and talked to the whore that my dad slept with. Her slimy voice gave me the creeps as she said, "Hello, baby," assuming that it was my dad who would be answering the phone. I can't remember what I said to her, but I'm sure it was something filled with hate. The next part I remember is being on the computer on Facebook, looking at her Facebook page and finding comments that my dad made on her pictures. The odd thing is that I know what this woman looks like, but she didn't appear to be the same woman as the photos I was looking at, even though I knew it was her that was playing the role in my dream.

After the Facebook part, I awoke with fat tear drops waiting for gravity to make them slide down the sides of my face. I instantly tried to think about why I was having this dream again. I say again because I've had similar dreams that all have to do with my dad's affair, but nothing was as passionate as this dream was. The physical violence alone was different in this dream because it hadn't been present in the others. I'm sure there could be millions of reasons about why I was dreaming this. It could be that my mom's birthday was Thursday, it could be that I had talked to my dad that day, it could be related to Rocker, I'm not really sure.

To be perfectly honest, I'd have to say that it's my own insecurities that are coming to light through my dreams. I'm afraid that I'll get cheated on, I'm afraid that my dad will be unfaithful again, I'm afraid that I'll sabotage any future relationships because I've done it in the past. Usually when I sense that I'm getting attached or starting to genuinely like a person who expresses interest in me as well, I start making excuses about their flaws or what they may perceive my flaws to be. With Rocker, the obvious one is that we haven't met. It's easy to tell myself that he won't like me outside of my shining phone/online personality. It's easy to not let myself like him as much as he appears to like me because it's a self-preservation technique that I've developed somewhere along the lines of my adolescence.

He tells me he likes me all the time and I can only say that I like him while we're talking through texts. The other day he told me that he liked me on the phone and I froze up and finagled my way out of response by some sarcastic comment that could have multiple interpretations so that I don't have to explain myself. I feel weird being as cutesy as I want to be. I want to call him baby or sunshine or schmoopie pie, but I don't. I don't call him anything when we talk on the phone. I barely say his name, which might not seem like a big deal from an observer's point of view, but I know why I do it. It's to make it easier to split when I find a flaw in him or he finds one in me. It's to make it seem like it doesn't matter or that he doesn't matter, when he does.

I miss him when we don't talk for a few hours, but I can't tell him that. I start to, but then I feel awkward and stop mid-sentence. I'm open with him in any other aspect of my life but I can't express my feelings. Am I really emotionally retarded? How did I get this way? There's theories that I could come up with that involve various incidents in my life that have made me guarded, but that shouldn't be an excuse and I don't want it to be an excuse. He's such a good guy and I feel like I'm not a good enough girl in any respect for him. I want him and I want him to want me, but I can't get over this fucking fear in my head that's been preventing me from making a connection with another person besides just something physical.


I don't know what to do and I'm feeling lost. I keep telling myself that in the long run everything will work out, but I really can't make those generic statements when I'm being my own worst enemy. I know love deserves to be treated well...but do I deserve to be loved?

But those were my best fuck me pumps!

As I was moving my belongings from my room at home to the foyer, I noticed the distinct smell of dog piss and searched for its origin. I found my very expensive, best pair of red suede fuck me pumps, soaked with dog piss and completely ruined. I knew immediately that it was my sister's cocker spaniel that did it because our German shepherd would have spewed a much larger radius of urine. I felt my blood pressure rise as I searched for the little fucker. I was going to wear those shoes on my date with Rocker and now they were fucking ruined. I found the little bastard lounging on the leather couch and like the completely logical person I am, I demanded that he tell me what he'd done to my shoes. He cowered away because he knew he did something wrong, then managed to make his way up the stairs to his bed, our designated "time-out" space for our dogs when they piss or shit around the house or do whatever bad things dogs can think up to do.

I texted my sister to tell her that I was going to put her dog up for sale and what he had done, but she had no sympathy. So, I texted someone that would.

"My sister's dog just ruined my red fmps!" I said in the angriest tone I could muster via text message to Rocker. I knew he'd be sad. I've come to learn that he has a thing for girls in heels (what guy doesn't?) and that I had been the first to introduce him to the lovely terminology of "fuck me pumps."

He called me from work and asked what happened and why they were ruined. I explained that dog piss is suede's kryptonite and that there would be no FMPs in my closet for awhile. Rocker seemed more pissed about it than I did. He told me that he was so pissed because now he wouldn't be able to see me in them, and that made me feel a little better. It's nice to know that Rocker's fantasizing about me in red FMPs.

The other day when Rocker and I were talking, he had to get back to work, so he cut the conversation short. I was joking around and told him that now I would be mad at him since I was having a stressful day and he wasn't listening to me. He texted me and asked, "What can I do? Buy you some new heels?"

I laughed at that. Of course he would say that. I told him that yeah, there were some great Christian Louboutin pumps that I fell in love with, so if he was feeling generous he could grab me a pair. When I told him that they were $800, he replied with, "Okay..how about some Jimmy Choo's as well?" I was slightly impressed with his shoe knowledge, but it also made me think that maybe he has quite a foot fetish...I'll push that to the back of my mind though because I'd rather not think of something like that.

I showed him a picture of the shoes I liked and he thought they were hot. The conversation dwindled on and I had pretty much forgotten about it until today when he brought it up while I was texting him in class.

"So, when do you want me to take you to go get those shoes?"

"Hm. Well when do you get your next paycheck, fancy pants?" I tend to call him fancy pants for several reasons, but I often have odd terms of endearments for those I'm interested in in general.

Before he could reply, I texted him and said that I was just joking and that I could never accept those from anyone because of how much they cost.

"Why? It's fine as long as you are wearing them for me," he said. Riiiiight. Read: I want to buy them for you so I can fuck you while you wear them. Usually, that's fine and dandy with me, but it would just be too much and it would be a thin line of being paid for sex.

After I turned him down again and explained why, he told me that I was awesome and that saying no to the shoes showed that I had good character. Hmm....I thought about that for a minute and then asked him if that was some kind of test to see if I'd be a money-grubbing whore or something. He said he didn't have tests for girls, but if he did, I've passed all of them so far.

Well, I suppose that's good news. Although I am still thinking about those fucking Christian Louboutins....they were so gorgeous. Ah, well. Maybe if we start dating, I'll feel less like a skank by accepting them. Time will tell.

that was good

I just had an amazing orgasm, my body is tingling still. I didn't expect to have that great of an orgasm just manually getting off, but with the help of some amazing porn, I did. What would little freaks like me do without the easy access to free porn? I mean, I could think of some great stuff, but it's so much better to be able to actually see people going at it. Sometimes, post-O, I think about what my sexuality would be like if I lived in a different time or place. It would be hindered of course, but I mean would I still think about fucking all the time, or would societal pressures permeate my brain so much so that it would wash away the inner freak? I've explored some general history in regards to the female sexuality through the years, but it's hard to determine whether the data out there is embellished or not, especially if it originated in places that had highly censored media, which were most places until recently.

I'm sure there were your few true nymphomaniacs out there who were insatiable, but did they explore their desires or did they try to get rid of them? Usually when I try to research such a question academically, I'm led to journals of kings' mistresses, which I don't particularly think can be believed because of many reasons. One of the reason that a king's mistress may bad source for true data is because of emotional biases. For instance, when one gains favor with a king, they usually are greatly excited, however, the excitement paves way to fear rather soon. Take the case of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII. No matter your opinions on Boleyn's motives, her favor with the king came quickly and went away just as abruptly. Of course, if Anne's journals (if she wrote any) were available would probably say that Henry was a great lover and such, but how did she truly feel? Was she ever satisfied? Did she ever have an orgasm? Things like this always run through my mind because people have been highly superstitious historically, and many superstitions came through in sex. If a woman came, she was possessed by the devil, if a man could not maintain an erection, the woman he was with was possessed, etc etc. Did these thoughts prevent women from exploring their sexuality?

This isn't even mentioning the religious influences over most people, that in itself could be a great topic for a dissertation, but again, the evidence is hard to come by (no pun intended). I mean, I've thought about the women in my family who are generations older than me and wonder if they ever really got off. Maybe it's a bit Freudian, but you can't help but wonder about the evolution of sex and sensuality. The exception in my family might have been my great-grandmother, the mother of my maternal grandfather. I don't know much about her, but what I do know is some crazy shit. She was adopted and probably a recent immigrant from Ireland judging by the few pictures I've seen, but I could be wrong. She was a heroin addict in the 1920s on and to support her habit, she stripped. I'm not familiar with the whole stripper scene circa 1920, but I imagine it was a bit like Victorian porn, not necessarily with a lot of nudity, but with a hell of a lot of suggestion, which can be even more provocative than just laying spread eagle on a stage. She passed my grandpa and his siblings onto her husband's parents and that's how my grandpa was raised. The only other story I now beyond this is that when someone told my mother that she looked just like her grandma, my grandpa got super pissed and said that she didn't look a thing like that slut and to never say anything about it ever again. I can only imagine the resentment that he must have felt on being pushed off onto his grandparents, who were the type of people that followed closely to their old world traditions and were strictly religious.

But, I wonder....did my great-grandma get off on being a stripper, or did she just do it soley to feed her habit? Maybe she was a stripper first, a bit of an exhibitionist, and got introduced to heroin that way. It's often made me think, are my sexual desires somewhat genetic? I mean, I know my mom is kind of a fiend because I've seen her toys accidentally and can literally hear my parents go at it sometimes (although my older sister, who lives directly below them, hears them a lot more than I do). Can sexual appetite be passed down? Something to ponder. Maybe someday someone will do a study on it, especially since our life expectancy is so great, but who knows?

The results would probably be skewed by most people who either don't want to talk about their sex lives or who fancy themselves a nympho. Either way, a person can easily lie about their sexual history, experiences, or appetite. It often makes me wonder if a lot of girls my age really are as promiscuous as they seem to be, or if they just want people to think that they are nymphos for the convoluted reputation that it entails?

Maybe someday I'll write a scholarly book about these issues, but for now, I am off to go ponder elsewhere.

I don't know how

I'm finding it difficult to verbalize what I'm feeling to Rocker about our whole situation. We still haven't met and we've been talking for almost a month, and I'm fine with that, but I'm starting to care about him and I don't know how to take that or how to tell him. When I went out for my friend's 21st birthday last weekend, he asked me if I was driving and when I told him that I wasn't and asked why he had asked me that, he replied that he just wanted to make sure I was safe. That's when I realized that I had started developing genuine feelings for him. I wonder how his day is going, if he's stressed out at work, how he's liking the new band he is in, etc, etc. I don't know if he's feeling the same way or not, or if I even expect him to or want him to.

I get the feeling that he's anxious to meet me because anytime we talk about it, he says that we better make it sooner than later and that he knows we'll get along great. I'm glad that he's enthusiastic, but at the same time, I don't want him to put these expectations on our first meeting because if it doesn't go well, then I'm not going to waste my time, or his time for that matter.

I don't know what my problem is. I feel like something is different about him, but maybe it's because we haven't met yet, so I feel like I can't really be the "real" me yet, if that's understandable. I don't know how to be my silly self on the phone when we talk or anything and I don't know how to tell him that I like him and feel that we have a pretty good connection. I get somewhat uncomfortable when I say something off the wall because he doesn't reply like what I'm used to. With Douchebag, I felt completely comfortably telling him anything sexual, but maybe that's because all we had was something physical. Is it different because I want Rocker to like me as just a girl and not as someone to hook up with? I'm not sure...I'm not very sure about anything right now and I feel like the longer we wait to meet, the more weird I'm going to get about this. I can't really help it though. I just wish Rocker was a little more outgoing and flirtatious because it would take a lot of the pressure off of me to try and keep up the witty banter when we're on the phone.

Well, I go back to school Thursday...real fun stuff. Oh, and my car broke down in other good news.

Ah.

Case of the blahs

I hate January. I hate February, March, and April for that matter, too. Nothing about these months appeal to me in the slightest bit. Now that we've entered January, I'm feeling depressed. I don't think it's Seasonal Affective Disorder or anything, just a general feeling of fuckkkkkkk let's fast forward to something better. I mean, what good things have actually happened in these months, ever? I urge you to make me a list if you are so inclined. Today I did nothing. I woke up, ate, took my medicines, played a video game, watched some football (yay for the Vikes being out) and then had dinner and fucked around for about four more hours until I came up to my room to download some music, illegally of course. As I selected the "recently added" song menu on my iTunes, I noticed that most of the songs I just downloaded were sappy and some downright pessimistic.

First came The Darkness' "Love is Only a Feeling," a song who's lyrics can say it all- "Love is only a feeling/drifting away/When I'm in your arms, I start believing it's here to stay/But love is only a feeling/anyway, anyway"

Next is Debussy's "Clair de Lune" one of my classical favorites next to Pachebel's Canon and Ave Maria. Something about the song is sad, almost weepy perhaps. I had it on my computer when I first got my computer set up before Freshman year of college, but somehow I deleted it.

Then came "Sea of Love" by Phil Phillips, not necessarily a sad song, but whenever I hear it, I always think about the movie "Frequency" with Dennis Quaid and Jim Caviezel. In the movie, there is a scene where the song is repeated on a record player and Dennis Quaid's character finds a woman dead, he was minutes too late to save her. If that's not sad, I don't know what is.

There's more, but lists bore me after I start them. Hello, ADD. Last night I went to see the Transiberian Orchestra and they basically blew my mind. Amazing music, amazing light show, amazing pyrotechnics, amazing energy. I couldn't believe that they had done a show at 3pm before the 8pm show that I attended because they were all so energetic and enthusiastic. Great time and I highly recommend them, not that they would need my recommendation.

Thursday is my sister's 11th birthday and also the day that I have to go back to campus for Spring RA training. Blah. I'll be glad to go back because I'm tired of the monotony of home, but I will then enter another period of repetition. I know, I know, life is a series of cycles and I should be used to it by now, but can you blame me for seeking more? Everyone wants to break the mold, go against the grain, or whatever cheesy, if relative, metaphor you would like to insert here.

What I should really do is hit the gym so that I can get some endorphins pumping through me, but that seems like it would take soooo much effort. Okay, 20 minutes of yoga at home will have to do.

Until next time..