Welcome, me. Chapter, one.

Thanks to Eric for helping me navigate my way through blog-space, and so graciously posting my "first post!!!!!". Senior Frogs rules.

Why not? Why not make a "blog"? Will anyone read it? Probably not? And I'll probably write most of it when I'm drunk anyway, so it's all for the best. I had a live journal once. It's true. I think it still exists, and unfortunately I found it once, and rediscovered all of the sappy excited-by-the-moment things I had written when I was all fired up at five am. It's alot like revisiting the pictures from middle school when you wore hollogram daisy t-shirts, and glued rhinestones to your forehead. Or maybe that was just me. Oh the delicious dark ages.

I wrote to an old close friend about the past year or so of my life, and when she responded about her life, she told me that my life sounded like a rollercoaster, and that she was no longer on one. She and her wife had gotten married, and accquired a bunch of dogs, and had steady jobs, and smoked cigarettes, and missed their hometowns, and loved eachother, and were leaning how to settle into themselves. And I thought, how nice. And haven't I just settled into the scrappy friend role who writes to her big kid friends about her misadventures, and sometimes they take her in for dinner and let her cuddle their dogs? It's ok. I don't mind so far. And her life sounds beautiful. And I didn't think mine was a rollercoaster. Either way, that's what made me decide to start a blog.

I feel like part of really loving humans in life is also masking yourself so you don't hurt anyone or make any enemies. I really respect people who don't care. I am very good at camoflauging. Obviously bad at spelling it. But I was thinking. Around the time of my birthday I was thinking, and realized I had made the lamest New Years resolution ever (do more push ups. Yeah. That happened.), and that maybe, if I was going to turn 23 regardless of wanting to stay 22 (or 19), maybe I should make some "birhtday resloutions", about things that, you know, really mater. Couldn't do it. I sat down for a long time trying to think of things, little list things, and pretty much just came up with "be less affraid of things". Though realistically, many of the things I am affraid of are too rediculous to matter at all (killer whales, subways), and I could have found many more construcitve filters to process that idea through. but I didn't, and eventually I gave up. I was then thinking, the time will come, when I will know exactly how to talk about it, and whenever that happens I will make my resolutions, whatever they are, however insignifigant.

The motion of things has now forced me to to think about "It", it being things I want to change, or admit, or resolve to do, and so on.

With this level of seriousness I should just actually get a deviantart.com account and post pictures of weeping roses. Bear with me.

I love all people. Most people think it can't be true, that if they knew me they could harness the way I feel and whittle it down somehow, and maybe eventually someone could, but I just love humans. I was exactly that kid in elementary school who was really uncool, but was friends with everyone, because I liked people and I was nice. Pretty much, still that way. I just want to know people, and understand what they are about, and drink with them, and dance with them, and so on. Sometimes I feel guilty becasue I think that it must be wrong to want to know so many people, or talk with them, and that if I do that, I am spreading myself too thin, and denying the people I really care about the time and attention they deserve. Probably sometimes it's true, and probably sometimes it's not. Either way, I don't know. But I worry. My mom told me that when I was a baby I always stayed awake. My parents were the first ones in their group of friends to have a baby, so I went to all the parties with them. My mother tells me that when she tried to put me down to sleep at someone's party, I would crawl out of the bed, and sit in the living room on the floor, and that I would refuse to fall asleep until everyone else had left. Don't know how that was born in me, but it probably explains alot.

I found myself at Bennington in June, with a week left of school, and nowhere to go afterwards. I couldn't afford to go home, and many of my New York friends had things going on. I then found myself in Atlanta, for a month. Living in the good graces of Wythe's family, without anything to do. Let me tell you, Atlanta is not a great place to be if you have nothing to do. It doesn't matter now anyway. It will matter some months from now when I write a screenplay, but for now, all that matters is that I am finally in a place where I can do things. I can walk out of my door and see young people. I saw some little dudes with spike belts at the Williamsburg Italian-catholic carnival today, and I just wanted to hug them and take their picture, because they just seemed so pumped to be getting Zappies (or whatever they are called), and it made me so happy. Them, and the nuns eating sandwiches who smiled at me. Way to go for nuns. And way to go for little babies wearing bling. I saw alot of those.

Some things.
I drink alot. I love drinking alot. I hate waking up at four in the afternoon.
First impressions are good, but second impressions are better.
Sometimes you talk yourself into a hole, and you should have the foresight to just stay there. I usually don't.
Learning how to love someone you have to choose not to be with is hard. And making it harder is when that person doesn't understand that your distance is not a measurement of your dislike, but rather the opposite.
I am not good at being the person to end things. I try never to end things.
I hate conflict. Conflict, unless it is amicable arguement, makes me black out, and then I have no idea what has happened afterwards. Very unhelpful.
I like to dance. All the time. I feel very uncomfortable if everyone else is a really good dancer.
I don't know how to do the couple dance. I do the solo-running-man dance. Lest it be a slow dance, then, perhaps.
I am shitty on the phone. I aviod using it so I don't have to be shitty.
Pretty much every cartoon ever has made me cry. Dumb romantic commedies too, though, thankfully I can say I hate those.
I find that in times when I am trying to cover my ass I grossly try to overexplain myself, which helps nothing, and often makes them quite a lot worse.
I love smoking. I know I should soon quit smoking. I smoke much more when uncomfortable.
I don't have any hair. Despite the wrapping paper the present is not a lesbian, and let's all keep that in mind.
Pride is always the last thing to go.
Someday I will have a colony of dogs. And I will roll around with them.
One half of me is a 50 year old woman. And the other half is a 16 year old boy. Theay are at constant conflict with one another.

That's exactly it. Half 50 year old woman, half teenage boy. 100% 23 year old girl. Very confusing, these compositions.

I think it would be great to sleep on a roof top. I think it would be great to fall asleep at 12 and wake up at nine, like normal people, and I think it would be great to read a book, or 60, and I think I would like to learn how to read all over again because I don't know anymore, and I think I would like to call my father every week eventhough he raised me and he doesn't mind when I don't, I would like to go to the Statue of Liberty because she scares me from far away, I would like the bug bites on my legs to go away so I can look like a normal-less-itchy-human-being, I think I want to not feel like an asshole for a while and give myself the license to do it, I want to be a funny person with a pot belly and stop making jokes about it, I want to hug a nun and watch old italian men play music together, and I want to watch families of wives with mongramed necklaces and husbands with sleeveless t-shirts and babies with too many siblings who are all screaming try to have a good time together, and I want to eat tater tots, and I want to hug really great people like the ones I am seeing all the time, and I want to appologize when I should but not all the time like I do now, and I would really like to stop compromising so much or compromising so little and find the things to compromise about that really matter, and I think I would like to stop rambling and finally after all this time being alive learn how to be consisce, and I think it would be great to cry when I feel like it (aka All Dogs Go To Heaven) and hold it together when appropriate, and I want to wear a disco ball dress and bounce around like Huckleberry Finn, and I want to wake up and feel promise, and I want to give into the cheesieness, because I mean it all and I just am that way.
"Wake up and feel promise". What a chode-y idea. Doesn't mean it's not true.