Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.
conflict vs. confliction
First of all, I should say that this might be more of a semantic question rather than a linguistic one. So I just got into a really long debate with a friend of mine over the use of the word "confliction" as a noun. Much of my argument centered around the fact that, while confliction is technically a word, it is obsolete, and unnecessary when the word "conflict" works perfectly well. His argument has, at this point, less to do with the grammatical sense of the word and more to do with its stylistic use or the "feel" of it. I'm pretty sure I'm right, but it's hard for me to articulate because I've mostly studied French grammar rather than English grammar and my understanding of the English language is more intuitive than anything. Does anyone have any thoughts on the matter?
what i'd do
give up all forms of intoxication
convert to catholicism
wrestle an angry drunk scotsman
take a vow of chastity
eat pig testicles
quit smoking everything
crawl through broken glass sprinkled with salt
shave my head and get a tattoo of elmer fudd on my scalp
drink out of tempe town lake
take a vow of silence
drop out of school
wear a burka to school every day
change my facebook status to "has syphilis. for real."
eat only garbanzo beans and bologna for a year
slam my hand in a car door
shoot up meth
jump off the swings from as high as i can go
move to the deep south
throw my computer off a cliff
donate all my money to the republican party
if only any of it made a difference
I keep having these nightmares. They are too too real for my liking. Also I keep having these lucid dreams where I can't move or run away or touch things or speak, and then I realize I'm asleep and still can't do anything.
Also I thought being home would be better but so far it sucks.
that is all.
how does one know it's over when there's not a fat lady hanging around to sing at the opportune moment? that's what I want to know.
where's my fat lady? when's it going to be over? in the even that one doesn't show up, do you just say fuck it and put on a CD of Puccini?
on the bright side, my anxiety has all but vanished in the last couple months. no idea why. can't decide if depression is better or worse. i think i mentioned this before - would you rather be terrified that the glass will be half empty, or calmly certain that it will be? i think i prefer the latter. reality is easier to forget about than possibility.
done with school. grades should be all right. not that it makes much difference.
See? this too is freeing. when the one big glass is half (or completely) empty, all the other glasses seem kind of tiny and insignificant in comparison. which makes it much easier to discard them if they're full of piss. I'm doing a terrible job with analogies etc., forgive me. it's 5am.
I keep hearing to give things time. But it keeps getting worse, not better. I'm running out of options.
I am twenty-one.
Things I remember from my birthday
- going to Rula Bula at midnight, where half of the people had just escaped from a wedding (including the bride and groom). Had a vodka tonic and a vodka cranberry.
- going to Big Bang to see dueling pianos play songs that everybody knows the words to. Had a long island and a tom collins, both were delicious. Kelly drew me pretty pictures on the napkins but then someone spilled my drink and they were casualties of the clean-up effort.
- getting serenaded whilst sitting atop one of the pianos (this was difficult in the dress I was wearing), followed by dancing onstage with other drunk girls to Shout. Nick has pictures.
- trying to get more maraschino cherries from the bar while they were trying to get everyone out. Nick claims it was at least a half hour after last call.
Things I don't remember from my birthday
- being driven home
- getting mexican food from Texano's, also having a heated argument about the pronunciation of the word.
- any other conversation that took place after 2am
- drinking water
- having a pale stomach contest with Kelly and Lauren. Actually, I don't even remember Lauren coming over.
So yeah. Woke up this morning at 9 (probably still drunk), and drank a shit ton of water, slept for 3 more hours and was almost entirely hangover-free. I didn't even feel sick, just kind of tired. The rest of the day was pretty non-eventful. But I had a wonderful time and am glad beyond glad that now I'm not forbidden from going places and buying things because of my age. It's a good feeling.
I was sort of feeling better.
And then Blake had to go and fuck it up. Unintentionally, but still. I just can't even hear the name anymore.
This summer is going to be a godsend.
My birthday's coming up.
It'll be nice to only worry about blowing a .08 instead of a .001.
And it'll be nice to get into bars and clubs and order drinks whenever.
But other than that, I'm not terribly excited.
I think that I shall smoke some more and watch adult swim until I pass out. Valley of the Dolls is entertaining, but even cheesy moralistic 70s movies full of musical numbers can be too real for me. Ironically, I have very little problem with reality shows.
twirl the wheel
animal collective + delicious tea + vapealiciousness chez C. = win. these things help.
as does vyvanse.
why is it that it takes the consumption of pharmaceutical meth and chemical-filled smoke to achieve the barest approximation of equilibrium? It's like I'm balancing on a beam over an abyss and different things are constantly making it smaller and wider. I've gotten it wide enough to relax at the moment, but I can't stretch out comfortably.
animal collective definitely helps.
I went to the grocery store and picked out a bunch of things that remind me of home/my family. I might even call them later. It's good to have someone that I love and haven't hurt too badly.
New earrings. They're little plastic deer with strawberries on chains. handmade by this canadian chick at etsy.com - hotroddesigns. I loves them.
( Read more...Collapse )
there are good ways and bad ways to be calm.
+ got some handmade earrings I ordered today and they're supah cute.
+ also got the hemp rainbow sandals I ordered. comfy as shit.
+ my professor actually liked the last play I turned in.
- failing at life
- inescapable inertia
I read that cigarette smokers are actually less of a financial burden because of taxes and the fact that they die way sooner than nonsmokers. So really, it would be socially responsible of me to keep smoking. Yes?
"Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die."
I thought my anxiety about the future and its attending paralysis was caused by undue pessimism. It seems I was wrong. Lack of hope isn't the problem, hope itself is. In the face of an inescapably bleak outlook, there is a certain sort of numb acceptance.
There is despair as well, but despair has a certainty about it that hope and fear cannot provide. I am calm.
Or maybe it's not the uncertainty, but the feeling that it doesn't matter that much. I am acutely aware of the involuntary nature of my vital functions. Probably a good development from a darwinian perspective - I can't be bothered to think about whether my lungs are inflating or not, much less take an active role in the proceedings. Life apparently does go on, no matter how ambivalent you feel about it.
I feel good right now. like, really good. physically, mentally, . I'm all smiley and happy, and it's almost disorienting. I was uber-productive yesterday, maybe that has something to do with it? it's just weird, I'm not used to feeling this...happy. especially for no reason. it's just not normal. but i'm going to dig it for as long as it lasts.
Things change quickly.
And slowly as well.
I hope that whatever the speed, the changes are good.
Ah, sleep. sleepy sleep sleep.
Someday I will wake up and not be exhausted already.
Apparently I'm broken.
Nice thing to hear about yourself at a party. right? I don't know if I feel broken but the word resonates with me to a discomfiting extent. which begs the question of when I was not-broken.
hilarity: my name means "pure" in gaelic. just let the irony sink in for a moment. I'd forgotten about this until recently.
Nick acquired two small turtles this week. They're cute and have become vastly more entertaining since he added a quantity of small fish to the tank. If you've never seen a turtle catch a fish, I highly recommend it.
I know nothing. ugh. and I think I need to be by myself until I do know something. anything.
On the bright side, lately I've been sober more often than I've been fucked up, and somehow my homework's been getting done on time. And apparently Callahan read one of my essays in my sister's friend's class today, which makes me feel proud in some small way.
fuck this shit.
seriously, fuck it.
It's funny that I was mentioning my childhood desire to convert to catholicism this afternoon. It would serve a dual purpose - keeping me at a safe distance from the world, and allowing for new and exciting methods of penance. Lent is like a whole month of nothing else.
I don't understand how I can think I feel one way and then be told that my actions make it completely impossible to believe that that could be the case. am I just that good at lying to myself?
I am repeating to myself the mantra I tell so many other people.
Things will get better. eventually.
They really will.
Really, they'll get better.
Why can't I save my absences for days when I'm actually sick?
I had. a lovely. halloween.
+ party party party
+ Dwight and Jim were playing each other at beer pong
+ got hit on by a chef (and later met a girl who he'd said the exact same things to and laughed a
+ made plans to go shoe shopping with cookie monster
+ used my baguette to duel with a jedi
+ defended said baguette from a hungry rambo and many other people
+ danced with really old asian wizards (???)
+ ran into a pirate from my english class who was dating the party host (small small world)
+ smoked with mr. slave and a cowboy and an 80s giraffe...
+ managed not to lose anything except my cup (WINNA)
Now I get to clean the bathroom and do homework before the next party.
I don't know how I used to spend so much time on the computer doing mindless shit. boredom? but I haven't played a game of solitaire in weeks. I even tried when I was doing homework the other day. It feels like there's nothing to occupy me in all of cyberspace.
third week of school.
so much homework.
anxiety attacks galore.
I have a job.
I miss you and it hurts
fourth day of school.
and it's my fault but
i don't think i've ever been this desperately unhappy.
my about me for most of the school year.
According to Michael Kaminsky, his spirit animal is me. This pleases me greatly. Even if I think Alexander might be his real spirit animal.
Is suicide fair? To be more precise, does the suffering of one person outweigh the suffering of all the people who are affected by the suicide?