Negative //

Talia's boyfriend is here right now because apparently they "can't be at his house," and I feel like I'm slowly being consumed by all-encompassing hatred and fury. Holy heck, I hate him so much. I literally have never hated anyone this much (whom I've personally known- of course I hate people like Columbus and Jefferson more). They say that to hate someone is to be a murderer, and very well, I guess I am one. I'm a sinner, and I'm rotten to my core for this, but I can't stop hating him, no matter how hard I try. Words can't adequately express my hatred and contempt for the miserable wretch that he is.

I want to punch him in the face. I want to break his toes. I want him to never have toilet paper in public bathrooms. I want him to spend hours and hours torrenting one of his shitty racist and sexist movies, and then find out that it's all in Swedish. I want him to always run out of deodorant right before a big event, and then not have time to buy any more, so he has to go out and sweat like the pig that he is and everyone sees and judges him extensively. I want him to go bald at 25.

I don't want him to die, or have to stop playing piano, or be lonely forever, or otherwise be ruined in life, because that's a little extreme, even for me. I don't think anyone deserves death, or if they do, it's not for me to judge. But golly gee, I sure would like to give him a big ole wallop in his fat ugly noggin!

Anyway. I have other things to be concerned about. (This may sound callous, but trust me, I'm perfectly capable of worrying about everything life gives me- and some things it doesn't.) 

For one, I'm supposed to go out with Andrea and Natalie this afternoon. Andrea texted me asking to go shopping, and I don't really feel like going out, but I haven't seen her forever, and I miss her, so I said okay. And then Natalie is the essential third part of our trio, so I asked her, and she said yes, but I didn't ask Andrea first, because I thought it would be okay (since we do this all the time). But I realized as soon as I did it that that was pretty rude. Why am I so socially inept? I hate this about myself. Anyway, I told Andrea, and she hasn't replied. She didn't read the message, so maybe she's busy, or maybe she's really pissed and doesn't even want to deal with me. I don't know. Why do I do these things? I guess I'll find out what the situation is later. Well, even if Andrea doesn't go, I can still go with Natalie, and we can create enough good energy that Andrea will be put back in a good mood (fingers crossed). 

(Ed: Andrea just texted back that this all sounds good, so everything worked out after all. Thank goodness, and bless the kindness and understanding of my lovely friends.)

Here's another example of how I fuck everything up: I made plans with my Sigma (my nickname for Potential Bae because I don't want my family to know her name or gender- although I guess they do now) to meet up over break. And I was really excited, okay, like heart flutters and everything. And I was pretty sure I could get a ride, because my mom is willing to drive me to meet other friends (eg Cesar), as long as there's something for her to do too, and of course I would make sure there was. It's not like we'd be doing anything inappropriate (although I wouldn't mind if we did) (no stop it Maria), so my mom could even stick around and chat with us. We're interesting, you know! So we decided we would meet this week, and it was all beautiful. But then I came out, and now my mom's mad at me, and she won't drive me anywhere, especially to meet my Sigma, because she doesn't want me to Get the Gay Goin'. Which. I sort of get it; it's a shock, and she has every right to be upset (now matter how strange it seems to me that this would be something unacceptable). People can't help how they were raised, and she has been doing a good job in overcoming her internal biases in many areas (I mean, I thought it would be okay to come out in the first place, and that's saying something). Also, I feel like if she'd been paying a little more attention to me, she would have seen the signs. But then again, maybe not. A lot of people think I'm straight. No matter what, though, it still makes things really inconvenient for me. I don't want to disappoint my Sigma! I don't like canceling plans if I can help it anyway, especially on such short notice, and it's doubly worse because this girl is so important to me, and I don't want to mess things up. I feel sort of like a knight with her lady, like I want to wear her favor and fight battles for her and do everything I can to make her happy and all that. Which is hilarious, really, because I'm always the princess in all my relationships. Everything's all flipped now. To quote the smash hit Broadway musical Hamilton, the world's turned upside down. (And it was changed in just one burst of light too)

(Wait, does that make me Marius? No way, I refuse. Also, everyone knows I'm Cosette anyway.)

What was I saying, though? Oh yeah. So I really don't see a way out of this. I'll just tell the truth and shame the devil (such a fun expression), because I don't lie and I don't know how to lie, and I would never lie to her anyway, and she'll hate me, and everything will be ruined. Which is, you know, not so great.

On the plus side, at least my mom won't have to see me get into a Gay Relationship.

Ugh. Why am I such a fuck-up? I'm awful. I think I've messed up everything good in my life. Maybe it's survival of the fittest? Like, because I can't stop being stupid, I deserve to be unhappy? But I can't accept that as a universal law. Stupid people deserve happiness too. So it must just be me, but I can't accept that either, because I refuse to go down the path of othering myself again. I won't be a hypocrite, not now that I've worked so hard to overcome it. So, I don't know. What can I say? Maybe there's no system of retribution at play at all; it's just chaos and fatalism and my ridiculous stupidity, all working together on the cosmic level to ensure that I make the worst decisions possible. Sounds about right, actually. Heaven have mercy on my poor stupid soul.

This is so bad

I feel like if my life were a tv show (which it might be; I'm not ruling out that possibility), I feel like I would be that character who's always looking at the camera, or rolling her eyes, or turning away going /yikes/ and I would be the least popular person ever. Well, okay that's not accurate, because there are many other tv tropes that I would fit much better, and that would be much more illustrative of my character, and none of them are the Straight Man because that just Isn't Me (also, nothing about me is straight). Believe me, I've thought about this extensively. But anyway, right now, I feel like I'm sort of doing that right now. My family brings it out of me, especially Xander. Here's an incomplete list of things he's done today:

•argued that racism isn't always bad

•said that race-mixing is a terrible phenomenon that has come from our neo-liberal society, and should be prevented at all costs

•argued for the merits of the Nostalgic Past

•tried to "advise" us not to talk about our mental (or physical) health problems

•told us that we shouldn't try to destigmatize our issues this way

•got extremely offended when we tried to explain our point of view and made dinner really uncomfortable

•continued to be offended and scream throughout the entire meal

•pulled the good old "why are you trying to fight with me I didn't do anything wrong you guys can't even handle some constructive criticism what's wrong with you" thing

•talked about himself for a solid hour and changed the subject back very angrily whenever it got off topic

•told my mom that he's very angry at her because of the abuse she's suffered, and he blames her for it

•said insulting things about the girl he's Talking To and said he's only talking to her because she's "below his level" and thus attainable.

•voiced his decision to leave said girl after stringing her along.

•currently, he's having a Deep Conversation with Mom, and I feel uncomfortable even out here in the other room.

So. Yikes.

This is only him, by the way. There's a whole other can of worms when it comes to everyone else, and that isn't much better. Fortunately, Dad is out in Pennsylvania, and things are much better with him gone, but things are still pretty bad now.

Talia is constantly angry and depressed, and she's in an abusive relationship, which is terrible, but we can't do anything, of course. Hell, we can barely even talk to her, because unless we're telling her exactly what she wants to hear, she gets mad and pouts and stomps and says nasty things to anyone and everyone. I love her dearly and I would do anything for her, but she often acts like a spoiled child, and I can't deny that. 

Anselm is cut off from the world. He's always working out or on the computer, and he doesn't talk at all. It's weird- I hardly know anything about him. Today, I asked him something, and he said point-blank that he has no opinions, and that's true. He doesn't care. But that doesn't mean he doesn't understand; he sees much more than he lets on, and I'm worried that he's bottling everything up. He's a little spoiled too, not like Talia, because he does understand that he has to do things he doesn't want to, and that other people don't have to like what he's doing, but in that he doesn't know how to fend for himself. He's fifteen years old, and he doesn't even know how to do laundry, for goodness' sakes.

(I admit, some of this stuff is my fault. I spoil the kids, I think, because I want them to be cared for, but I'm pretty sure I'm enabling them.)

Mom is the other child in the house right now. Not physically, no, just emotionally. It's not her fault, and I don't blame her, and of course I'm not going to stop being her emotional caretaker, but it's indisputable. It's been easier with Dad gone, but it's still a bit difficult at times. 

Especially now. I'm an idiot, and this is all my fault because I shouldn't have expected anything more, let's be clear about that first of all. But I'm still irrationally mad about it.

I decided that the time had come for me to come out, so I did. I tried to ease into it over a couple of days, and I was matter-of-fact and patient and everything, but Mom got mad at me and barely spoke to me the whole day (even though she didn't explode or anything, and was ostensibly nice about it). Then we talked about it later, and she was still mad at me, but she was okay with talking calmly. To outer appearances, she reacted well, but I could tell she was mad, and that makes me feel worse, because am I overreacting? Maybe I'm just being too greedy. But then again, why do I have to beg for scraps? I deserve unconditional acceptance, don't I? She discounted my experience with the whole "this is hard for me too, you know" thing, and she told me that me being bisexual is worse than her separation/divorce. And I don't know, that was painful. Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of it, but I wasn't happy about it. Then, of course, I had to go back to my Mom Mode, and be all reassuring and everything, and it's stupid and selfish, but I kind of want someone to reassure me? I'm always expected to be strong and resilient, and I guess I am, but it gets old sometimes. 

You know, after I told her, her first reaction was "but what will people think of us?" followed closely by "what if we lose all our violin students?" and then she told me not to get into a relationship, and that if I came out to other people, everyone would hate me and I would become something of a social pariah. And yes, I know this is all true (or possibly true), but I also am sort of skeptical, because my mom cares /way/ too much about what other people think. She's a chronic people-pleaser, to the detriment of other things, and it's not inconceivable that she's blowing this out of proportion. On the other hand, I'm fairly naive, and I might be thinking naively. And I freely admit this. But I don't know. I want to talk to someone about this, but I'm scared. It's not exactly a progressive place, my town, and I don't think I would get very good advice no matter where I went. And of course, I'm not out to most of my friends, so I wouldn't ask them. Besides, when do I ever bother people with my personal problems? I can't.

(I thought writing this out would help me make sense of things, but I don't think it did. It was worth a try, I suppose.)

I wish I weren't constantly Filled with Despair. I feel like I'm wasting my break this way. And of course, time keeps on passing and passing, and I'm wasting my life, and it's all going away. It's times like these that I think more about dying. I can't, I know this, but I want to, and it's difficult to motivate myself to do anything when nothing matters anyway, and it's not going to do any good. Everything's so painful under my skin, and when it's not painful, it's itchy, and I want to be gone. Out of this life, out of life in general, I don't know- I don't even know if it matters. I just want to get away. (But will anywhere be better than here?)

I might go to bed soon, I'm not sure. I'm sort of sleepy, but more than that, I feel really twitchy, and like I can't stand anything, and if I can get to sleep, then at least I won't have to experience things. I've slept a lot today, but a little more can't hurt. We have an early morning tomorrow, too, since there's a special Christmas breakfast at the homeless shelter and we're going again. So I should rest up for that.

Romantic Fatigue

(that's a Frank Turner song)
ALL RIGHTY
WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY SOCIAL LIFE
YOU DO
Okay! So, as we all know, Ling 20 was pretty boring, but I did meet someone there, a lovely girl who was in my discussion, and we exchanged numbers on the last day of class, and we've been talking ever since. Now! The issue is that I don't know if we're talking as friends, or if we're Talking~ (you know). She's very nice, and we use many emojis, and I'm very flirtatious and she doesn't seem to mind, but then again, I'm sort of flirtatious with everyone? Maybe she thinks it's normal. I don't know! Anyway! We went out today, and I will tell you All About It.
I wanted to get pretty, so I changed about fifteen times, but then I was about five minutes late. And I don't think I apologized for it, because I was too blown away by how pretty she looked, and I was nervous, and ugh. So we greeted each other, and she was all nervous and blushy and it was cute. Then we went to a little Thai restaurant and got food! And it was a little awkward? I'm not sure if it was me, or what, because I really was nervous and stuff, Anyway, neither of us ate much. She paid though! Then we went to see the movie (which she also paid for), and it was So Good! It's called Carol, and it's based off a novel called The Price of Salt. It was SO amazing, and I was spellbound the entire time, so if she tried to hold my hand or anything, I wouldn't have known. So then we Uber-d back, and we were sort of quiet? I don't know if she was tired, or not having fun, or what. But then we got back and she asked if I had to go, and I have my big problem set to finish, so I did have to. And we said goodbye and all, but she didn't kiss me? Like, the entire time, I was willing her to, like sending out kiss me kiss me kiss me thought rays, but she didn't go for it, and I didn't go for it either, because I wasn't sure if she considered this to be a date or not, and since she didn't, maybe she doesn't? But she did hug me a couple times, and it was really nice, like she gives excellent hugs. Also, her hair smells really nice? Anyway! So she mumbled something, and I wasn't sure what she said, and I was nervous, so I just smiled and agreed, and maybe she asked if this was a date, because she seemed kind of nervous, but maybe she didn't, and I have no idea. Why didn't I just ask what she said? Why? Maria no :(
So, here's another thing! She got me a gift! And I love gifts, okay, I love them, but often people just kind of give me stuff, and it's not really what I would choose for myself. But this one was! She got me a Matisse coloring card set from the Hammer museum, and she put in a sweet letter, and in the letter, she put a postcard of Olympia, which as we all know, is my very favorite painting. And she did all this, just for me! I'm honestly so touched. No one except Natalie has ever given me such a thoughtful present, and Natalie is my best friend. Gosh, I think I fell in love a little bit right there. But this was at the beginning of our date/not date, and maybe afterwards she wished she hadn't? Because I'm pretty charming over text, but I think I'm kind of annoying in person, and she probably lost interest. I mean, okay. I kept twirling my hair and smiling and not knowing what to do with my hands (or body in general), and my voice is so squeaky, and I'm just such a Barbie doll, but not in a good way, and I kept agreeing with everything she said (I mean, what am I supposed to do, though? I did agree). She asked me about my favorite musicals (at which point I fell even more deeply into the Feelings), and I went on a huge rant about the symbolism in Les Mis and why Cosette represents light and hope, and how Enjolras and the others are so relevant to the struggles of today's society, and then I got embarrassed so I started talking about Hamilton, and then that turned into a long rant about social justice, and just UGH. Why am I like this? She listened the entire time, though, which I thought was terribly polite. She's so sweet, and so adorable and smart and pretty and wonderful, and I'm such a bagel, and I feel like I scared her off or weirded her out or something. I mean, I'm pretty, but that's basically all I have going for me, because I'm kind of an asshole, and I'm kind of annoying to be around, so unless she just wants me for my body, we're out of luck.
Anyway, so I texted her after I got back to my dorm, because that's my rule for the end of a date, like if someone takes me out, I text them afterwards, okay, I wasn't raised in a barn. But I wasn't sure how mushy I should be, so my text could be interpreted as Gal Pal. But she texted back, and it was nice, but also kind of Gal Pal. So we texted back and forth a little bit, but then I got a little sweet~ with my text thanking her for her gift (and OLYMPIA!), and she hasn't replied, and I feel like I scared her off. She probably had a terrible time, and I'm just being a Cishet Boy. Help :( You know, this just goes to show how terrible I am at relationships. If I don't really care about the outcome, I'm pretty smooth, but right now, I feel like a high school freshman all over again. Does she like me, or does she like like me? Maybe I should straight-up ask her if she considers this a date, because then we'll be clear. Oh gosh, I'm scared to do that, though! Because what if she doesn't? Oh no. See, this is the problem with living in such a hetero-patriarchal society. I don't know what to do with myself when I'm on equal ground. (which makes me problematic, yes, I know)
Okay, enough of this for now, though. I need to do my problem set. Goodnight!

Turkey!!

Today is Thanksgiving, and I really don't support this holiday at all, because it's nothing more than an American-centric ode to colonialism, and the celebration of the systematic oppression and genocide of an entire set of people. People like to sort of self-satisfiedly give thanks for the things that their privilege affords them, but they refuse to think about the deeply problematic implications of what they're celebrating, and just, all in all, it really gets me all steamed up. Also, we have to celebrate with a family dinner, and HOOO boy, that's A Thing all right. I always try not to get into arguments, but I really can't help it, because they say Such Things, and then I have to reply, and I let a lot of them go, okay, but it's hard to always be holding myself back. So we argue, and then I have to turn around and soothe the situation again, which I do, but MAN it's a pain.
(I'm really fun at parties, you guys)
Okay, so the other thing! This is literally a holiday based on eating. So you can see why it would be a problem for me. I'm doing better, but I hate eating with my family, and I'm not sure how I can possibly drink to get myself through it, because we'll be at my grandma's house, and I can't exactly go asking her where she keeps the alcohol, now, can I? Maybe I should bring a flask. That's a very postmodern anti-hero thing to do. I could also bring some cigarettes, and not smoke them because I don't want to contribute to anyone's poor health, and also I don't really support the tobacco industry as a whole and don't want to take part in any of their production, but I could just have them, and then act all tough and weather-beaten and stuff. It would be cool.
Dear me, I do dislike these dinners. They're always so terribly awkward. I just know Dad is going to make us go around the table and say what we're thankful for, which would be okay, only he's going to turn it into an excuse to give a sermon and make everyone really uncomfortable. I feel the icy chill of social isolation already (or is that just the lack of a heater in the house?). Well, at least we can all have each other's backs in this coming storm. Or not, I mean, that probably won't happen. But in theory.
The one thing that I am looking forward to is nice food. We're going to have all the traditional stuff, as well as less-traditional stuff, and it'll be delicious. But even so, there's a problem. We're making the potatoes, so I got to be in charge of how many we cooked, but then Mom said we couldn't cook that many, so we have only 14 now. That's less than two per person, and I really don't think that's enough. How are we supposed to have a nice Thanksgiving meal if we don't have enough potatoes? You don't understand; I'm legitimately concerned about this. I'm going to have to give up my potatoes so everyone else can have enough :( that's more of a sacrifice than anyone could be expected to make. (I'ma do it, but I ain't gone like it) Maybe there will be enough other stuff that people won't eat so many potatoes, and I can have some after all? No, that's too much to hope. Goodbye, potatoes, goodbye!
I really don't want to have Nice Pleasant conversation while we're there. You know, I'm just going to bring my schoolbag and study the whole time. I do have an exam on Tuesday, so I sort of have an excuse, and studying calms me down anyway, so maybe I won't fly off the handle and start panicking all over the place. This is what I will do, and no one can stop me. Thank you.
Actually, we're about to leave soon, so I should go. I don't want to make us late. All righty then, goodbye for now! And remember, don't celebrate American colonialism!

Ennui

I think I have a lot of ennui. (is that something that one possesses? Or is it stative?) I want to do something, but nothing is the right thing. What's more, though, I'm filled with a general sense of malaise and discontent- irritation, even- and even the tiniest things make me want to scream and tear my skin off (which is, you know, a totally normal reaction to feeling annoyed, right?). There's a lot that I want to accomplish, but I can't get anything done, either because I don't want to, or because I just can't (which aren't completely mutually exclusive, let's be clear about that), and that's frustrating, which makes me even less effective, and then the whole cycle continues. Very terrible. I wonder if everyone feels this? Maybe it's a seasonal thing. Well, that doesn't quite make sense, really, because it's very lovely outside, but I will go to any extremes to avoid admitting how Mentally Fragile I really am. 

(It is getting harder to avoid this, but dear me, denial is the spice of life, and I will keep on burying my head in the sand for as long as I can)

Now! You know what really irks me? Well, lots of things do, but at this moment (and every other moment), I am greatly incensed by the patriarchy. As I've just said, this is a general state of being for me, so let me be more specific. You see, I would dearly love to go party hard and drink my feelings away with cheap alcohol and bad music. I could make out with attractive people and they could appreciate how skinny I have gotten (seriously my body looks pretty good rn) and it would be medicinal. But I can't do this! Why? Because I'm a woman, a small, tiny, conventionally attractive woman, and in this society, to exist while being thus is to live a life of danger indeed. I can't go out by myself at night, not to the apartments, and certainly not to the frat houses. I can't go party by myself, and I can't hook up with strangers and expect everything to be okay. Now, I think, would be the time for me to quote that one journal entry of Sylvia Plath's where she talks about her anger at this fact of existence. I too, long to walk freely at night! Even if I did, and by some miracle did manage to make it out safely, I would be afforded nothing but scorn and derision for my activities, and would be labeled as a Nasty Hoe. Now, it's perfectly all right for me to call myself a hoe; I do it all the time. But for other people to decide that they should call me that, and terminate their relationships with me because of it- oh dear, no, that isn't quite as comfortable. But to be great is to be misunderstood, and the world will whip us with its displeasure, and so on, and I don't particularly mind the odd name-calling. It's been done before. But I don't quite fancy the other possibilities that could result from a hard-partying lifestyle, and sadly, I must abstain. If I had a Party Squad whom I could trust, it would be all well and good (sort of), but I don't, so I must stay away from The Drink. When I turn 21, you can bet I'm going to become an alcoholic. It's written in the stars (and in my genetic code), but for now, I must live my melancholy life sober.

And what a life it is! My tiny roommates go out more than I do, and they're like 12. (I mean, they're 19, but same difference, right?) Yesterday, I spent a couple hours at someone's dorm doing homework, and that was one of the more exciting evenings I've had all week. Which, okay, is partially because I like doing homework, and any chance I get to talk about set theory is A+. But that's irrelevant. I mean, I'm in the prime of my youth here! I'm supposed to be frittering my time away on beer and skittles (or tequila and skittles, whichever floats your boat). I'm not supposed to be looking forward to doing problem sets! Well, okay I can do that too. But you get my point, right? I want to have fun! I want to go out and have a life and not be stuck here in the dorm listening to my freshmen suitemates talk about their SAT scores for the fifth consecutive day in a row! I feel like I never see anyone anymore. I'm bored and grumpy and anxious, holy hell  am I anxious. Everything sets me off. I feel like I'm constantly halfway to a panic attack, and it's always hard to Stop and Smell the Roses in that case, isn't it? And of course I'm always Deeply Unhappy as well, and who knows what all, and the cocktail of my emotions is constantly Despair Flavor. You see it, right? I can't get anything done, and that makes me not get anything done. It's all a cycle. And sure, I can blame some of it on my incredibly annoying suitemates, but the truth is that it's mostly me, fucking up day after day because of, well, anything goes at this point. Who knows? Not me! All I know is that I want to get drunk, and the patriarchy is standing in my way. 

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day, which means we don't have school, which in theory means I can catch up on my readings and study for all my classes, but in all probability will just end up with me sleeping all day. Ajay wanted to meet up to study, but he never texted me back after that, so boo to him, and Cesar wanted to go to a concert with me, but I kind of don't want to go because I am Filled With Anguish at all times, so it might just be netflix and chill with me and the screaming children who live with me. I don't know. What happens happens, you know? I'm too apathetic to be too worked up about all of this.

(I was going to write a paragraph or two about m love life just now, but there's a lot to write, and I really can't be chuffed to do it right now, so I'm going to leave it for next time and probably never get around to it. This is a perfect example of the kind of shit my mind pulls.)

Okay, I guess I'll go to sleep now. The Tiny Ones have also taken to their beds, so I won't feel like an old lady if I turn in. It's sad how elderly I am, though. Anyway, goodnight! I hope your rest is lovely and sweet and filled with dreams about beautiful things!

how many times do you wanna bet I used "creepy" in this post

I hate to say it, but I am one of the Creepy People of whom I am so afraid. (They do always say that you will become the thing you fear the most, don't you?) Why do I say this? Well. It's simple. You see, I had a Gay Dream about one of my suitemates, and now I have a sort-of-not-quite-almost-there crush on her. And the poor girl is just trying to go about her life, trying to live as I am, not even thinking that in her own home, there is a tiny gay admirer, admiring her gaily. Oh, what can I do? I try not to look at her, because I don't want to be creepy, or perpetrate whatever the girl version of the male gaze is (which, I don't think that really exists, but I'm still afraid of it, okay, I Am Still Afraid), but she's very pretty, and I am Very Sapphic. Also, she's so cute? Like, her personality is totally adorable. Oh no, stop it Maria. No being creepy now.
Like, okay, when I like a guy (I mean, it happens in theory okay), I don't really worry about if I'm objectifying him or not, because 1.) I know I'm not, and 2.) the idea of a Female Gaze isn't a cultural thing that we need to worry about in general (in some cases, of course, just not as a widespread phenomenon, I mean we're not laboring under the oppressive thumb of the Matriarchy here). So it's okay and stuff. And if I see a hot guy in public, I can freely be all "ooh heLLO there sunshine wanna GO" (and then not do anything about it, because that's so much trouble), but then if I see a hot girl, at first I'm like "oouuuhhhHHHH" but then I'm like "nooooOOO" because I don't want to contribute to the systematic oppression of women! Do you see my problem? Gosh, it's so difficult. I am creepy merely by existing, which puts me on the same level as GamerGate fans and Bronies and Donald Trump, and that's a level that I'd really rather not share, if I had my way.
Hmm, but then this brings up an interesting question. Do I think that other women-loving-women are creepy? I do not! I would never say that (unless they were actually being creepy), so does this mean that I am being hypocritical again? Probably. How bad. I must stop.

Speaking of romance, DD hasn't texted me since Thursday. Do you think he telepathically sensed my internal mockery of him and retreated in hurt silence? Or could he have found my personal tumblr, where I post not-internal mockery? Oh dear, oh dear. Whatever shall I do?
Nothing, that's what. This takes care of my problem quite nicely.
Oh! Okay, so in my Korean class, there's this guy who's really quite spry, and he invited me to study Korean with him today, but I was busy lying on the couch wallowing in existential dread and misery, so I didn't reply. But should I have? Granted, I don't really need to study Korean, especially with other people, but maybe it would have been a good thing to do. Oh dear me! Maybe I should reply tomorrow, be all "oops sorry I just got your text! haha let's have a study date soon ;) " or something. Wait no, but that's not really the outcome I want. HELP. Why am I so socially awkward? I really think I need to go to finishing school or something. (Tangentially: whenever I hear "finishing school" I picture a whole bunch of daintily dressed girls fighting people, and a head professor person going "FINISH HIM" and that just goes to show you the deep and uncultured recesses of my mind) But what was I saying? Ah, yes. What will I do? Will he grow to hate me? (Probably not tbh; I'll just wear a lot of makeup on Monday) Social interactions are always so difficult :( This is why I can never grow up to be a politician.

My back really hurts. This might be because I've been lounging on the couch all day, and it might not, but I do know that the only time I left the apartment today was to go get food with Shezereh. It was surprisingly chilly out there. Maybe fall is finally on its way.
PUNKIN SPICE Y'ALL
I think I'm going to go to Westwood tomorrow. I'll bring my laptop and my headphones and sit myself right down to have a grand old time studying. I'll finish up that syntax chapter that I needed to read, and do my problem set for Ling 20, and maybe I'll print out the IRS request form for NAMI and do that too, and it'll just be swell and dandy. I'm actually very excited about this. Maybe I can even go a whole day without being hit on! (LOL no that's not going to happen) In order to facilitate this, I think I'm going to get up semi-early. Like, 11. (It's not sad that I have to set my alarm for that, right?) Then I can go and get some coffee and finally not have a headache, and it'll be truly magnificent. Oh. Wait. I hope I have enough money to buy a coffee, actually. Last I checked, I only had about 3 dollars in my wallet. Hmm, I wonder if I can pay with change?
A cheer to the joys of college life!

Probably, I should get my happy little self off to bed. Sure, I slept a ton today, but a little more sleep never hurt anyone, right? And it's been proven that night sleep is much better than day sleep. Oh, but that only applies to night sleep before 2 (and especially before 12). So maybe this will be equivalent to day sleep after all. Hmm, actually that raises an interesting question. At what point does the sleep effectivity begin to decline? Is it steady? Gradual? Does it decrease exponentially each hour after 2AM? And is it steady up until then? These are answers I must seek!
Oh gosh. Will my suite mate think I was waiting up for her if I go to bed now? She just came back and went to bed, and if I go to bed now, maybe she'll think "oh there's that Maria again, being all creepy on my (extremely attractive) ass, better not ever interact with her ever again." Which is okay, of course, because she has her own agency and can freely interact with me however she wants. But I don't want to be creepy. You know, I'm pretty sure most people aren't as afraid as I am of coming off as creepy (what a complexly parsed sentence). Maybe that means that I truly am creepy, because we fear the thing that is most true. Wait. No. That can't be right. I don't think we fear the thing that's most true at all. For one, I fear a lot of things, and I have seen from empirical evidence that most of them are indeed not true. For another thing, isn't that kind of a victim-blaming mentality? I mean, I'm not a victim, but for other people, like what if a bipolar person was terrified of being manipulative and toxic? That wouldn't mean that they were, and to say that they were just because of their (possibly misplaced) fears would be truly wrong. So I think that's a terrible mindset.
I'm glad we've gotten that settled.
Okay, so I think I really will go to bed now. I'm a little sleepy (I think?) and if not, I can play Candy Crush or go on tumblr, or look at pictures of myself like the flagrant narcissist that I am until I get sleepy. It will be A-Okay. Goodnight, then!

Guess who did her problem set last night? It was me. I did my problem set last night. I'm such a good student. Now I have an hour before my class starts, and I can do whatever I want.

So.

Let me analyze the dynamics of my relationship with DD. 

Now, as we know, DD is 27 years old. I will be 21 in 3-ish months (which is a whole other freak-out for another time), but after that, he turns 28 on March 11 (see I know this, I'm so great) (3 and 11 are both prime numbers, see), so it doesn't make that much of a difference. So, as we can see, that's quite the age difference. By the time I was born, he was in the second-to-last of Piaget's stages! And the last stage isn't even universal! Far be it from me to subscribe to something so normative and limiting as the stage theory, but it does give you an idea of where we stand in relation to each other. If I were a younger woman, I would be quite concerned as to the propriety of this relationship, and in fact, I would discourage it with all that I had in me. However, I'm a consenting adult, and I can make my own semi-rational decisions, so the manipulative/toxic aspect shouldn't be a problem in my case. Right? Hmm. Now that's a question. Really, it does make me wonder. Should he be going after women his own age? He may be a pedophile. After all, I do look like I'm about twelve. And I seem very sweet and innocent and naive, so maybe he thinks he can manipulate me. That's part of my charm, I suppose, but it does leave me susceptible to creeps (why else would I get hit on every single time I wear my hair in pigtails?). So this all is fairly suspicious, don't you think?

Even if we assume that we're both of age to make our own decisions, there's another aspect to this whole age thing. You see, we aren't in the same stages of our lives. I'm still an immature and puerile undergraduate, dancing my way through life with frippery and flamboyance (and plenty of purple prose). He's a Serious and Stoic grad student, who is probably in a brooding Bukowski phase. I don't think he's read Camus, but if he did, I'm sure he would find a Deep Connection. I think he's past the Kerouac-fuck-all-I'm-a-Libertarian mindset, thank goodness, but there is more to come, and I'm not sure his ideas would gel with mine. Oh, but then again, I do probably think that I'm more mature than I am. I mean, here I am disparaging a point of view that is no doubt very valid. I mean, I went through the phase myself in my teenage years. And they do say that only fools think they're wise. Well, I don't think I'm wise, but that just goes to prove that I am indeed a fool, doesn't it? Because I'm probably subconsciously trying to prove that I'm not a fool by saying that I am a fool. Which, you know, is okay. I'm fine with admitting how much I have yet to go as long as I get to learn some of what life has to offer. 

Where was I?

Right. Okay, so you see, we are in different parts of our lives. He's getting ready to settle down and find a job and all that. I'm still worrying about running out of swipes on my meal plan. Honestly, it sounds like one of these fanfictions.

Love Burns Red and Black: When a bored sociologist meets an enchanting young university student, his life changes in just one burst of light. Now what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right. But will they find their happy ending, or will it just be one more castle on a cloud? (Archive warning: NSFW content)

Like. What are we supposed to do with this? What if he gets a job in Wisconsin and wants me to move there to be with him? I'm sorry, but your dick isn't that good! There's no way I'm changing my life's direction for something as insignificant as romance. (Not that it's completely set in stone, but circumstances are going to have to be a hell of a lot more dire than some dude who wants me to warm his bed while he goes to pursue his own dreams.) So there's that. And even if we did end up in the same place, what then? I still have to go to grad school, and get a job, and learn so much, and it's a bit early to tie myself down, isn't it? I know I'm not ready, not mature enough in any way to forge a very serious commitment at the moment. There's so much I need to do and learn and be before I can count myself as a Real Mature Adult member of society. So I need to figure that out, and I'm not sure a relationship like this would help me do that. But who knows?

Okay! So that's the age factor. Now let's deal with the more pressing problem: he doesn't seem to see me as his equal. 

Yes, yes, that's quite a strong statement, I know. But for cases like this, strong statements are where it's at. He seems to think that by virtue of age and experience, he's somehow the dominant member of the relationship, and can feel free to exercise his headship over little subordinate clause me. I guess some people are into that sort of dynamic (like in those fanfictions I had the misfortune of reading awhile back) (seriously I am going to be upset about this forever- my children Wouldn't Do That), but you know that I'm overly invested in equality, and I don't think I could accept a power imbalance of that sort. (Author's note: I almost wrote "inbalance" which is So Interesting, because it goes to show exactly how productive the in- prefix is, and how the /n/->[m] sound change is so integrally phonological and not morphological) Right. So, I don't think I could ever be a not-dominatrix (what even is that? A ~Dom?), and it would totally creep me out to try. Like, just because I like bottoming in bed doesn't mean I like being under your thumb in real life! For fuck's sake. The patriarchy really does need to go away already. But like, it seems like he wants to be The Man in the relationship, which is sexist garbage, and I'm so not down with that. I don't support traditional gender roles, you know! How could I, when I experience attraction to multiple genders myself? We have to be partners, or else we're nothing. And if he keeps this up, it really looks like we're going to be nothing.

As a sort of addendum to the previous point, I feel like he wants me to be his Pixie Dreamgirl. I understand that I may seem quirky and ditzy and dreamy and waifish and all that, but there's much more to me than just sunshine and daisies. I'm not going to Dance Into Your Life to Change It Forever or anything like that, and I'm definitely not going to die or get amnesia or undergo a terrible accident to fuel a tired and sexist plot point. I don't want to be one of these people who's like "oh I have so much depth You Don't Understand" because I'm not sure I do; in fact I think I might be pretty shallow. But I don't want to be reduced to a two-dimensional archetype either. And here's the thing. Even if I didn't mind this (for whatever reason), it wouldn't even work. I'm not always going to be happy, or witty, or fun to hang out with. Sometimes, I won't even be able to speak to you. Logistically speaking, I can't keep waltzing through a meadow of flowers with you forever, because that's not the type of person that I am. It's horribly reductionistic to pin that trope on anyone, and heaven knows I probably fit it better than most, but it just plain doesn't work, and to try and fit it on me anyway is just silly. 

On the other side of the coin (sort of), there's the fact that he's trying to get into my head with regard to my emotions now. Like, who even does that? Well, I guess they do in literature. And in theory, I like the idea. Just, you know, not as applied to me. I don't want to talk about my family, or my mental illness, or my eating disorder, or any of that stuff. Does it matter that I'm "slow to trust" or "timid" or anything like that? No! You're not my therapist, so stop trying to get jiggy with my headspace. If you wanna talk about your problems, I'm all ears, but for goodness' sakes, let's leave me out of it. 

Okay, I guess I should address this- I do know that for relationships, people should be emotionally available and open and trusting and all that stuff, and I advocate it, but I don't wanna do it. Which is part of the reason why I don't think I should be in a relationship yet. I'm emotionally immature, and I'm just going to end up hurting someone (maybe myself) if I go on like this. I need to fix myself before I can do anything serious. Oh. Right. So I'm the one who needs to fix me, not you. That's not your job. Love is nice (I guess), but it's not the panacea for all of life's ills that so many people seem to think it is. You be supportive while I work on myself. Yeah?

(Except that's all conjectural because I don't want anyone to be around while I work on myself) (but anyway)

I think he might accept this, though. Because I told him. But then again, who knows if it sank in or not? Maybe he was just agreeing with me. I guess the only way to know for sure would be to continue hanging out with him to see what he does (which sounds horribly clinical and not at all nice), and it seems that that's happening as we speak. So maybe I'll come to an answer sooner than I thought!

Overall, it's not a bad relationship. Heaven knows I've been in worse. The weird, gross parts of me like to be kissed and cuddled, and he's not a bad conversation partner when he's not being unbearably pompous (which, granted, is a lot of the time). I could definitely do worse. But could I do better? That's the question, and it's one that I can't answer yet. So I guess all that's left is to see which way the wind blows!

Happy October! 

I forgot to take my meds for one day (maybe two) and I'm all woozy and dizzy now and it sucks :( I'm just tryina live here, man.

I'm back at school now, and week 0 is officially done, so that's all fine and dandy, but I really have had quite a time here. On Sunday, I went out with Cruz and Eric. On Monday, I had a "date" with Andrew and practically stayed the night with him. On Tuesday, I went to the mall with Irene and Cruz and Eric (and got really sore because we walked like seven miles to get there). On Wednesday, Marissa and Irene and Cruz and Eric and I went to Santa Monica. Yesterday, which was the first day of class, I went to a party at Cruz's apartment. And today, Irene and Eric and I bounces all over campus gossiping and eating way too many sweets. And of course all along I was meeting people and hanging out with my new suitemates and stuff. So it was an amazing week, but it went by really quickly. 

I feel like my suitemates are scandalized by me, though? Like they all go to bed at 11 or 12, and that's before I come home, and when they do see me, I'm bruised and tousled from rigorous sex with an older man, or passed out drunk on the couch (or grumpy and hungover and late to class), or hanging out with groups of random boys, and like. What are these poor innocent children supposed to think?  I'm not the scarlet woman that they think I am, but I'm not exactly innocent either. So maybe what they're thinking is correct? Who knows. I'm pretty sure they all gossip about me, though, which is pretty funny, now that I think about it. At least they seem to like me well enough. They keep asking me for advice about everything. 

Fortunately, my classes are doing well. I'm really bored a lot of the time, but at the times that I'm not, it's all very interesting! And when everything speeds up in a couple weeks, it'll be super duper! I don't have a lot of homework yet, but maybe someday I will. Or not. Who knows! All I know is that I don't have any papers to write this quarter, and that is a tragedy. 

Today, I have callbacks for the acapella group I auditioned for. I'm excited, but also, I don't want to go. What if it's terrible? What if they kick me out on the spot? I dunno man. Who can tell what the day may bring. Also, it's 2 hours, and I'm already sleepy. I hope I can stay awake the whole time. Well, nothing ventures nothing gained! We'll see how it all goes. Right now, I think I will sleep for a few minutes. That's not bad, right? Nah. Okay, goodnight! 

It's almost October can you believe this

It rained today! Il y a pluie!! Gosh, it was absolutely gorgeous. I got up at about 9 (really I woke up at 8, but I didn't want to get out of bed, you know how it goes) and made some tea and listened to aesthetic music and watched it coming down. It was very peaceful and lovely, and I treasured the moment deeply. ❤️ (Do emojis show up? Probably not. What a pity!) The kids didn't go to school today, because of suspicion of criminal activity, so we all stayed in and did homework and baked and read A People's History of the United States (can you guess who did each activity?) and it was nice. Dad was here too, but he mainly slept all day. For future reference, I must record the outfit I was wearing, because it was totally cute. So, I had my shorts, and a black tank top, and then I put one of Xander's flannels on top and put a pair of his socks on to keep my little tootsies warm. Very aesthetic and oversized and absolutely excellent. It's too bad I didn't go out; I'm sure I would have charmed the multitudes. This all makes me so excited for fall! I can't wait to wear cardigans and knee socks and drink pumpkin spice lattes and put on dark lipstick and listen to the 1975 while walking around campus. It's going to be beautiful! Fall is my favorite.

Okay, so this might be a little NSFW, but it has happened, and I must share. So, I was happily going about my business, reading Les Misérables fan fiction and having myself a grand ol' time when I stumbled upon a promising-looking fic about Grantaire playing piano for Combeferre and Enjolras. And you know I'm always a sucker for that, so I opened it right on up, and then. Oh gosh. Oh no. It was so terribly strange. The things they did, I'm telling you, I was not prepared, and I don't think I could ever be. And I know I'm a fairly vanilla person, like I admit it freely, BUT that goes beyond the boundaries of common decency, wouldn't you say? Not to mention it's all completely out of character, I mean sweet dorky Ferre would never be all weird and domineering and stuff. Okay, so is it a thing that people call each other "sir" and "master" and stuff in bed? Like, not in a flirty kind of way like "I'm about to blow your mind, sir" but like "oh, master, can I *insert act here* please" because I Mean. I think if someone tried to pull that with me, I would just laugh. Well, either that or be Highly Disturbed. I'm a pretty passive person (I think the correct term is "sub"), but I ain't into that, no sirree bob. Oh my goodness okay also! Apparently some people have a praise kink? So if you tell them that they did good or something, they'll get off on it. And I literally don't understand how that works, because what if you're at work, and your boss is like "oh yes very good job with the annual management session you did excellently with that"? Do you just... I mean, there has to be a way to regulate it, right? Maybe it's contextually limited? Wow, so I don't know, but I truly cannot stop thinking about this. I don't know if I'm horrified or fascinated or both, but I don't think I will ever be the woman that I once was.

I've been reading A People's History of the United States, and it's quite good for being Socialist propaganda. The history is all correct as far as I can tell, and it's easy to read. Well, okay, the prose itself is easy, but I've been really slow getting through it because all the injustices outlined therein make me so angry that I have to lay it aside for awhile. Or else I have to ponder deeply, because who doesn't love to think about history and its implications for today's society? I know I do! Wow, I really wanna start a revolution, though. If I had to strike, I'd like to think that I would do it. Rights for all! 

Did you know that William Jennings Bryan was Secretary of State under Wilson? Somehow that must have been lacking in my education, because I had no idea. It kind of sucks for him, because then he had to do the Scopes trial and die in disgrace, and wow, what a fall. But he did have a life to live, and I'm sure it was fascinating while it lasted. Also, I had no idea how active Emma Goldman continued to be well into the 20th century! She's so cool. I mean, I'm not an anarchist, but you gotta respect her conviction. E.L. Doctorow didn't do her justice.

Tomorrow, we have to go to CKC :( I've been dreading this ever since we got out the last time. What an infamous thing! Maybe nobody will go. Also, I have to call UCLA's psych department to see if I can get that class. How scary! I hope there are still spots. It's cognitive development, which is totally fascinating, and even if it didn't fit perfectly in my schedule and fulfill a requirement for my cogsci minor, I'd still want to take it. Fortunately, it's a lecture (like a big one), so hopefully they will be a little more flexible about letting me in. It's really very inconvenient; they don't let anyone but psych majors (and psych/ling majors) enroll in the upper div psych classes without a PTE number. So even though I'm a bona fide cogsci minor, I can't get in there. Such an elitist attitude! The linguistics department would never do that. 😒

(I'm sure they are all very lovely, and they have their bureaucratic reasons for being this way, I'm not hating) (not much, anyway). What else? Hmm, I should probably start packing to go back to school. Gotta get all that stuff, ya know. I wonder where my high liters are, now that I think of it. I haven't seen them since June. Well, now. It seems I'm going to have a lot to do. Isn't that exciting! Best get started soon so I don't start the year in deficit. This is definitely going to be one of the best years yet, I've decided! 

My nose is so itchy. What is this? Maybe it's a sign that someone is thinking of me. Is that it? Or is that when your ears are burning? I know that when you sneeze randomly, it means someone's talking about you. Let's just assume it's someone eulogizing my beauty and charm and leave it at that. 

I should probably go to sleep soon. Dad is going out tomorrow, and the kids are going back to school, so I have a chance to be productive and practice singing (for auditions next quarter) and all that. There's laundry to be done and a house to be straightened up, and I have a councilor to call! Maybe I can make an omelette or something too. Okay, I must go. Goodnight! 

Tfw everything's awful

I think I should mention for the records that "tfw" means "that feel when" and it's some sort of internet meme? I don't know. It's a tumblr thing, and when tumblr is concerned, there are no real answers (it's kind of like Dada). 

The only day worse than Saturday is Sunday, and that's tomorrow. What am I doing with my life? I hate the weekends, like I literally dread them all week. Who even does that? Me, that's who! Wow, I'm great.

See, on weekends, people are supposed to do fun things, go out, party, enjoy life, all that. But for me, the only drinking I do is alone, in my room, trying to drown my sorrows in crappy cheap liquor, and the only social interaction I get is when I have to talk to people at church (and my students, of course). I guess it's a social anxiety thing? I dunno. Like I don't wanna do anything, but then I feel horribly guilty about not doing anything, so I really can't win either way. Anyway, that's not the worst part. No, the worst part is having to deal with my family. On weekends, we're all home together, and it's hell and I hate it, and I want to die. Not that that's unusual, mind you, but it gets worse on weekends. And then on Sunday, we have to teach! I literally loathe it. Detest it. Objectively speaking, I suppose it's not that bad, but for some reason I really hate it, so I just go on hating it, and my wrath increases every day. Soon it will be uncontainable (that's a lie; I need to buy textbooks, so I must contain my fury long enough to get paid). Last night, I woke up a whole bunch of times because I was dreading the weekend so much, so I didn't get much rest, and I'm sure that didn't help anything? But then I slept a lot in the afternoon (not very restful or good sleep, mind you), so I'm not tired, but I'm still miserable, so maybe sleep doesn't have anything to do with it at all. Talia, on the other hand, got a full eight hours, and was wonderfully chipper. It made me happy to see her. 

Now I know full well how lucky I am to have a family, especially one with people who don't hit me or snoop through my personal things (usually), and I really have no right to complain, but I will anyway, because complaining is what I live for. So. It's always horribly hot in here because Dad only lets us use the air conditioner when he wants it (which is like never), and I'm sure that doesn't help anyone's mood, so everyone is constantly pissed off and/or sad. Me included, but I don't have the luxury of showing that, so let's discount me for a second. There are bugs everywhere, because people keep leaving the doors open (like, windows have SCREENS, they're meant to be used for cooling purposes, why can't you guys realize this), and I hate bugs :( Like, they're okay outside, but they're not meant to be in the house, and I'd rather keep away from them, you know? They probably thrive in here because it's so horribly dirty. Everyone is a slob except for me (and Xander, but he's not here), and we're all too depressed to clean up, so the house is a literal pigsty (literally- the guinea pigs' cage seems to spread out across the entire house somehow). It's almost to the point that I feel dirtier after taking a shower, because of how nasty the bathroom is. Oh yeah, showers. My family should start taking them. I think Talia and I are the only ones who wash every day, which is, ya know, kind of disgusting. I mentioned that I use a clean towel and washcloth and stuff every day, and it was like a frickin revolutionary statement, I mean everyone was so shocked and horrified, like "Maria that is WAstEfUL" like no, what's wasteful is you throwing away your health because you couldn't be assed to throw your linen in the laundry, this isn't 1736 damn it

UGH

Okay, so also! Dad is really weird, as you know, so he doesn't let us use normal laundry detergent (it was a struggle getting him to let us use laundry detergent At All, but that's neither here nor there), and all out clothes end up smelling like ass, and not even remotely clean. I guess some of us (read: everyone except me and Talia) don't care about the smell or the lingering stains or even the indignity of having to go over everything with a lint roller three times afterwards (which they don't do, by the way), but when I wash my laundry, I mean for it to be clean, you know? I didn't think this was such an unusual concept. Also, we don't have a dryer, so we have to hang out our stuff on the balcony like we're in the goshdarn tenements. Talk about airing out your dirty laundry in public- literally everyone in the neighborhood can see my barely-cleaned thongs flapping merrily in the breeze. When I'm at school, I bask in the glory of a lint filter and dryer sheets and actual detergent, and washing my sheets every week, and living like the terribly privileged one-percent asshole that I am. It's really something, I'll tell ya what. It's also something to be able to eat off dishes that are definitely clean (because of course we're not allowed to use real dish detergent or clean sponges either) (and our dishwasher has been broken for years). SPEAKING OF, I feel like most people don't eat the way we do, like we manage to be both healthy and unhealthy at the same time, and that's a feat right there. I try to cook good meals for the kids, so at least they get something, but the rest of us (me included) eat horribly, and it's bad. I mean, for me, a shitty diet is a given, but the rest of all y'all ain't got no excuse. What can you do? I suppose I should start cooking for everyone else too, but frankly, it's daunting. They're all so picky! I mean, come on guys. Beggars can't be choosers. 

Right, so that's the setting. Then we have to layer the Interpersonal Drama on top (which is like something out of a frickin Victor Hugo novel), and the daily minutiae of our daily lives, which is all horribly depressing by the way, and it's a recipe for the Bleak House of the postmodern age. Which is, you know, saying something. I think I would feel personally offended if we never provided the basis for a Gritty and Meaningful masterwork, showcasing the depths of the human condition and standing in as a symbol of the grimness of society. (Come on, isn't that everyone's goal?)

Thus, to put it in the words of one renowned 19th century scholar, "men, women, and children are living in Shit." Oh, this is life, I suppose, and I mustn't complain (outside of here, where I will indeed complain profusely), because I am more privileged than 99% of the world's population, and frankly, I really don't have the right. I expressed as much to my therapist, and she started going on about how the "poor starving children in Mexico" lead the "simple life" and how living hand-to-mouth is actually much easier than living in luxury because those poor people don't have to think about nuanced feelings like Sadness or Anxiety. This was all very problematic, and I had to argue with her for the rest of the session (which wasn't very productive), but sadly, it's all that one could expect. I mean, the woman is white.

What was I saying, though? Ah yes. So, it's very bad of me to complain, and believe me, the guilt is eating away at me as we speak. But that's okay! We all need to feel guilty about something! (That's so far from being true, ignore me) And I know that oppression and pain aren't competitive sports, and someone else's suffering doesn't negate mine, but it's hard to feel that my problems are legitimate when I have a roof over my head and enough food to eat (that I don't eat, but it's the thought that counts) and own an iPhone and go to one of the best universities in the country. There are people who would kill to be in my position, and I'm squandering it by wallowing in my own Feelings. That's another reason to hate me, and actually, now that I think of it, it's another reason that I could be a Brooding Postmodern Antihero. Oh gosh, I don't like where my future is going. Before I know it, I'm going to be living in sin in a dingy apartment in New York City, punching random people in the face, or maybe killing men on the beach and having to go to jail because I was wholly unrepentant about it. And I won't even have the male privilege to get away with it! Oh dear, oh dear. What a sad turn my life has taken. At least, I can win some aspiring novelist a Pulitzer when he decides to write about me. 

Man, ya know what I wish? I wish I weren't so damn ugly. Like, I'm pretty sure a lot of people wish that, and to be honest with you, I'm closer to Esmeralda than Quasimodo in the grand scheme of things, so my complaints might seem a little silly, but trust me, they are heartfelt. I'm never going to be thin enough (which, granted, might be an eating disorder thing, but STILL), and my smile is hideous, and my hair is thin, and I have horrible bags under my eyes that never go away, and my eyebrows are so THIN what the heckie, man how does that even happen? Also, I think my boobs are shrinking? Which is totally not fair, I mean they were two of the only things I had going for me. And yet, people won't stop hitting on me! So, looking at things objectively, it really seems that we've arrived at quite a Critical Situation, and I can see no way out but to join a nunnery, and that's something that I definitely don't want to do, because I've seen that opera about the Carmelite nuns and I know how it ends, okay, I Know How It Ends. All in all, I'm a little dissatisfied. What can you do, though? I have a body that works, and that's what's important.

I should go to sleep, but I don't want to, because once I do, it'll be Sunday, Bloody Sunday, and that's the worst bloody day of the week. If I were ever to find out that I was a princess and needed to go off to a small European principality ASAP to give a rousing speech about identity and multiculturalism, I think now would be a good time for it. Naturally, I wouldn't stay there, but the event would take long enough that I wouldn't have to teach. Oh yes, and they would pay me (or give me access to the royal treasury or something), so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about not working. Oh me, oh my, tomorrow's coming, and I will cry. Let's see if I can manage to get out of bed (if I do, that will be a victory). All right, time to go. Goodnight! 

September!

Happy September! Well, it's been September for a bit. But I can still wish that it's happy, can't I? Goodness knows we need some happiness up in here.

Dad has somehow gotten a teaching job at La Sierra, teaching remedial math. We all suspect that it's as a courtesy to Xander, and he will crash and burn, but of course we can't say that, and we are all very supportive. And it would be nice if he could earn some money. Mom is reneging on the promise of a legal separation with him, which is understandable because it's extremely expensive, and thanks to Xander, we have a lot of unneeded bills to pay (somehow he ended up having to pay rent in New York even though he's moved out AND in LA, which means that we have to cover it), so I don't blame her. But I do think that she was more than a little happy to take the easy way out here. No one is at all on the same page, which means that I'm on everyone's page (which is highly exhausting), and let me tell you, I've never seen such deluded individuals. We could provide fodder for the best of postmodern dramas. Actually, I do think a musical loosely based on our family is in order; something like Next to Normal, but without hot imaginary sons and with more puns? Kind of like Camus-meets-Victor-Hugo-meets-Jonathan-Larson, ya feel? Anyway. So our home life is a disaster. At any given moment of the day, someone is off wailing in a corner, and that someone can never be me, because I'm a Good Mom and I can't give in to petty things like emotion. Or anxiety. Or, ya know, anything. I am marmoreal! (That's a nice word, isn't it? Very picturesque) I gotta say, though, sometimes I just really wanna fight. Like, I really wanna beat the tar out of someone, just once. I think it would be very therapeutic (maybe not for them, though).

It's gotten very hot lately, and it's almost unbearable. Dad turns off the air conditioner when he doesn't need it or want it, completely heedless of everyone else and our protestations, and it's always a battle, trying to turn it on before he can turn it off again, and turning it on when he leaves the house so the air can get a little cooler to tide us over through the next hot spell. Then he gets mad, but it's worth it to have a little bit more comfort in this horrible humid heat. How did I live in Ohio for a year? I often wonder. It's so sticky and gross with the moisture in the air, and I really do feel like I'm suffocating. Yesterday, I tried to sleep downstairs, because upstairs was unendurable, and I woke up like five times because I was all sweaty (also because of nightmares, but that's really a given). I hate being sweaty! It's so nasty and disgusting. Like, okay, I could never live anywhere but California, right? But I'm expressly Not a heat person. Cold is good; I can deal with cold. But heat? No. Sometimes I wish I had elemental powers like Storm so that I could envelop myself in a little bubble of ambient air at all times and not have to deal with environment problems (when I'm not wishing for that, I'm wishing for Bobby Drake/Emma Frost ice powers). Oh yeah, how did Emma Frost come to get his powers anyway? And did she somehow get Paige Guthrie's diamond form too? Gosh, I'm so out of the loop. There's like a whole chunk of the universe that I'm totally missing. 

I wonder if I should try to sleep downstairs again today. It might be cooler. But then again, it might not. And the kids might want to sleep down here, so I would want to give them the couches, and I'm not really keen on sleeping on the floor, you know? It's too bad I'm running low on alcohol; I could dose myself up, and then I'd be able to fall asleep anywhere.

Right, so speaking of which! I'm really running low on my supplies, and it's terrible. Did I mention that some lowlife was filching my whiskey? It like to broke my heart! I mean, I'm not at all stingy- I'd be more than willing to share- but they took So Much, and really, it was my only recourse, so I was sad. I used the last of it on Labor Day for our family dinner, and it was barely one shot, so it didn't do jack (that was a pun, please appreciate*), so it was barely even worth saving. But then again, I feel like most of the beneficial effects of alcohol are psychological anyway, so maybe it actually was good. Who knows? All I can say is that I wish Xander would hurry up and visit so he can buy me some more, better, hard liquor. I'm terribly sick of our (disgusting) brandy. Really, I'm thinking these Romantic Parisiens must have had more money than they knew what to do with if they were able to consistently get drunk on brandy. Or maybe it was stronger back then? Or more cheaply produced? I'm sure people like Grantaire could knock back a bottle a day, easy, even so. Hmm. Is that why all these Impressionists were so obsessed with absinthe? 

As I said before, though, we're running low on our spirits. This is very worrying, because I literally can't eat dinner with my family unless I'm drinking, and once we run out, I have no idea what I'll do. Eating is hard enough for me anyway; I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I'll have to sip through a shot or two even just to eat on my own. Why do I gotta be this way, man? If only people never had to eat anything. I would be happy to spend my life drinking alcohol and never letting a bite of food pass my lips. Oh, dreams! 

Anselm has started asking me for help with his homework all the time. It's nice and all, but son I ain't tryna write your whole assignment for ya, kay? Kids these days. Was I that dependent on outside help when I was a freshman? (Well, in math, yeah) It really does make me feel like a real mom, though. There's nothing like it! I make the kids food, and dress them, and brush their hair, and help with homework, and nag them to clean up and stuff (really, it's Anselm more than Talia, but I get on her case too), and wow, man. I'm good at this. And also, it's NOT my calling. I will never have kids of my own. Of course, this makes me feel somewhat guilty, because I've been socialized all my life into thinking that I should be a Good Wife and Mother, but I'm sure one of my siblings will provide grand kids for Mom and pass on the family line and all that, so I don't have to take on that particular burden (although maybe I should?), and I shudder to think of what kind of anxiety-ridden messes my children would be if I had them, so it's probably good for the future generations if I stay single, if we really think about it. Besides, I'm terrified of giving birth. Like, babies squish your internal organs. I'm 100% not about that, man. Okay, but where was I? Oh yeah. So tomorrow is the open house at the high school, and Mom doesn't want to go with Dad (ofc), so she says I should go, but I'm not excited because I absolutely Know that her "conscience will get the best of her" and she'll tell Dad about it, but she won't want to go with him, so I'll have to go with him, and trail around with him for two hours. He'll tell me I'm a failure and crap at everything as be really embarrassing and offend everyone, and it will be a horrible experience. But Anselm needs someone in his corner, so of course I can't back out. But I do wish that Mom's conscience would fail her sometimes. 

I watched two episodes of Sense8 today. It's a good show! So aesthetically pleasing. There are some problematic elements, but overall, it's pretty well done. Of course I'm not even halfway through the season, so I don't know for sure, but I already hope they renew it for season 2. We could use more shows like that, and less like Sherlock or Supernatural. Gosh, I used to love Supernatural. But then it got so yucky, and now it's just kind of like that one weird friend that you try not to talk to because they always end up being really offensive and mortifying, but you always say hi when you see them because you shared a Past together. Such a let-down! It should have stopped at season 5, man, that's all I'm saying. 

Speaking of Netflix, I'm probably going to watch some now. I feel the X-Files calling to me. Or maybe I'll read Les Misérables fan fiction. I read a super cute one the other day, and I still think about it in spare moments. Maybe I should read it again. Anyway, that's all for now. I shall bid you a fond adieu, and a lovely bon soir as well! Au revoir! 

*because it's Jack Daniels. What a good pun 😎

I'm this close to finishing my chapter for the social behavioral book, and I'm Very Proud of myself. All I need to do is write a bit more about Behavioral Control and dig up a couple of case studies (which might not even be my job anyway) and cross-reference everything with the lecture notes, and put in the citations, and I will be Good to Go! Think of all the small little pharmacy students who will partake of my knowledge in the future. It warms the heart, almost. Now, of course I would never purposefully try to indoctrinate anyone, but it's very nice to be able to plant little nuggets in the text that advocate questioning the establishment and being a good person. Maybe for some of my examples, I can talk about the harmful patriarchal beauty standards that have become the Subjective Norms for many people and how it is the job of the healthcare professional to go against that. How excellent! We're going to raise a generation of socially conscious pharmacists, and that's how I can do my part (part of my part) to making a better world.
Whee!

Can I just say, my lipstick looks really good right now? I'm out in public, so of course I'm looking nice, but I took a lot of care with my lippy, and it looks absolutely lovely. Also, I'm wearing my new bra and it makes my boobs look So Good. If Bernini could see me, he would want to sculpt me immediately. And I would let him, of course. Because there's nothing like going down in history as a hot nude Last Duchess-style Olympia (what a terrible mix of allusions). You know, I've been thinking about this, actually. If some respectable artist-type person wanted me to model nude for them, I would probably do it? Like, I look pretty nice nude, if I do say so myself, and I'm not at all averse to more people appreciating my beauty. But like, it would have to be artistic and stuff, and not get spread all over the internet so people could call me bad names and send me death threats. I'm not at all into that, you know. Maybe like a postmodern think-piece on the need for liberation in an all-too restrictive society? Oh no, but you know I'm pretty white-passing, so that might be problematic. Unless they accentuated my Asian features, and then that's kind of like yellow-face, isn't it? So maybe not that. But something. Something cool and awesome and inspirational and not Banksy. Do you know, I had a boyfriend who adored Banksy, like he would never shut up about him. He thought the work was deep and meaningful. Also, he pronounced it "Bansky." Oh man, that's such a hilarious memory. Makes me laugh every time. I'm so glad this whole thing with Dismal Land is getting everyone's attention, because now more people can join me in making fun of the pretentious and classist white-boy debacle that is Banksy, and that's something that I've always wished could happen. Oh, and the idea that it's a good thing because it's exposing underrated artists is completely wrong; from what I've heard, he's just taking advantage of relatively-unknown artists, including young people and people of color, and that's just terrible, especially since he's marketing it as a good thing. Don't you think, sometimes, that the establishment is giving us bread and circuses to distract from the real problems (such as, say, Syria), and we're buying into it? I think so. I know I am. Really, it's quite worrisome to think of where the world is going, and how quickly it's going there. Something definitely needs to be done.

Tomorrow, I have to go back to the courthouse to finish with jury selection, and I really don't want to. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure why, because it gets me out of the house, and allows me some time to sit in a cool air-conditioned building and read. But however you look at it, I've lost my enthusiasm for performing my civic duty! Which is really very worrisome. Have I become cold and jaded? Have I lost the fire and passion of youth? Where are the passions I essayed, where are the tears I made to flow? Oh no!
Really, though, I think it's more to do with the jury selection process than the actual civic-duty bit of it. Like, I would be interested to sit in a trial and aid democracy (and I would be more so if the trial weren't ALL OF 10-14 FRICKIN DAYS), but sitting motionless and listening to a racist old judge ramble on about his wife's tendonitis is really not so fun. I think anyone would be put off by that (except for the other old people, who are perfectly happy to join in the discussion). Not only is it boring, it's annoying! I totally get not being able to use phones in the courtroom, I mean that makes complete sense, and I'm not complaining. BUT it makes it hard to pay attention. I'm one of those people who has to be doing something, you know? In class, I can take notes, but here, there's nothing to take notes of (except for all the old peoples' medical issues, and I think I'd rather not remember those), so my mind just wanders. Well, that's okay, I guess. I always have fun thinking about linguistics and social issues and lambasting the patriarchy in my head. Sometimes I even write speeches for myself. It's a good time. The fact remains, though, I don't want to go to this thing! With luck, I can offend the old white men enough that they don't want to have me in their courtroom anymore. That's the hope.

So I've been sleeping a lot, but I probably should go to bed and sleep more now, since I have to Get Up For Democracy tomorrow, and I feel like it's going to be hard enough to stay awake in there anyway. Hopefully I'll get there early enough that I can get some coffee, otherwise it's going to be a time, I'll tell ya what. It's too bad we're not allowed to wear sunglasses inside, otherwise I could lower the shades and take a discreet little catnap. Okay, anyway, time for me to go sleep (ish)! Hopefully I won't have weird dreams! Goodnight!

I'm in the depths of Heat Hell

It's atrociously and disgustingly hot, so much so that it's a genuine outrage and a crime against nature. Every minute I spend outside is a minute off my life, but being inside doesn't help much either, because Dad won't let us use the air conditioner. He says it's "noisy." I don't understand how this is a problem, since he's hard of hearing and can barely follow our conversations (granted, that might also be because of his slow rate of understanding), but who can explain the complexities of man? Anyway, it's horribly hot, so I'm trying to sleep on the couch, but since Talia also needs to sleep downstairs, I have to take the one in the front room so she can have the nicer one, and it feels really exposed. I mean, anyone could walk in here at any time and see my snoring away with my hair all over the place and my boobs probably halfway out of my shirt. Puts a bit of a crimp in my style, wouldn't you say? Maybe I can claim it as performance art.

Aside from the heat, we also suffer greatly from the cruel impressment of time. You see, tomorrow is Sunday already, and on Sundays, we have to teach. I've been dreading it all week, but my dread only seemed to have made it come faster, and now the fateful day is upon us. Gosh I hate it so much! I know I'm making money and I'm so privileged and all- but it makes me want to die or fight or die fighting or something of that nature. What I need is to be abducted by aliens so I can gain some perspective. It's probably hard to worry about your day job when you're miles away in outer space. Failing that, I need to get a better job so I can stop coming home on weekends and teaching these little horrors. (Okay, that won't work, because I'll still have to come home, and I'll still have to teach. But at least then I won't feel guilty about hating it.) There's nothing to look forward to tomorrow either. Like, we teach, and when we're not teaching, we have to be home with the family, and I don't really know which one is worse. So I don't have a reason for getting up except that I have to because we need the room for the kids. If not for that (and the overwhelming heat), I would probably lie despondently on the couch all day and think gloomy thoughts. I'm just fun that way.

On Monday, I have to go back for more jury duty selection. The judge is the prototypical bureaucrat, and is so damn slow that we've barely even started eliminating people. It's such a pain. Like, I'm into jury duty- I've wanted to be selected since high school (at least)- but this isn't what I'm here for. Also, the judge is really racist, and he talks like he's from the south, which he probably is. It's such a pain! I don't want to be selected, actually, cause the trial is supposed to be 10-14 days, and with the Honorable Judge Timesap presiding, it's probably going to be double that. Of course, I can't get out of it by saying that I'm a student, because school hasn't started yet, so I'm pretty much stuck. What a nuisance! All I can do is hope that I manage to offend the attorneys so badly that they decide not to keep me. Maybe I should cosplay. 

I slept for like three or four hours today, so I'm not exactly tired, but I don't want to be awake. I also don't want to sleep, because then it'll be tomorrow, and the amount of strength that I'll need to get through that is more than I probably possess at the moment. But I think I'd rather be asleep than awake. Sleeping is always nice. Sometimes I have dreams about battles, or musicals, or if I'm lucky, linguistics. And no one can try to talk about feelings with me. Oh sleep it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole!

I just wish it weren't so damn hot. Maybe I should move to Seattle or something. Ew, but then I'd have to live in Seattle. Whatever can I do? @the government please fix the environment stat pls&thank

I guess I should try to sleep, though. It's healthy and stuff (I think). Goodnight! 

I like making dinner because I can make it however I want, and then it's easier for me to eat, and it's just good all around. And okay, I don't wanna sound egotistical or anything, but when I'm on point, I'm on point, ya feel? It's true, a lot of the time I burn things, or forget ingredients, or do other weird things, but when I don't do any of that, my culinary creations are true masterpieces. That was so today. I made a pasta primavera with coconut cream and ginger and lime, mixed with steamed mixed vegetables and served with roasted lemon-garlic chicken (it should have been lime to go with the pasta, but we didn't have enough limes), and it was really amazing. I marinated the chicken for a few hours before roasting it, so the flavor soaked in nicely, and I got that perfect al dente texture to my pasta. Really, I was very proud. And I feel like it's pretty healthy, because I didn't use a cream sauce or anything, and I put in a lot of vegetables (cooked nicely and without lots of oil), so I feel proud of that too! Now I just need to learn how to cook brown rice, and I'll be in the business.

Xander left for school today. It was sort of sad, because I like having him here, but I'm also happy for him. He's moving on to a new adventure now, and it's so exciting! (And he gets to leave this hellhole house, and that can't hurt) I'm just sad that I didn't get him to buy me any more alcohol before he left. My supply is running dangerously low. It's a little weird to have him going to USC and me going to UCLA, because we're supposed to be rivals and all that, but this way there will be alumni of both schools in our family, so it will help everyone with admissions no matter which route they take. (but UCLA is better though)

Today was Sunday, and I was really proud of myself because I did not spiral into a depressive episode and lie on the couch unable to move because of my abject misery. And I think that really shows some personal growth, don't you? I even taught some students, and I think I did a real swell job. A+ me, good going. After that, Mom and Anselm and I went shopping, and I got this darling little pink-and-white polka dotted throw, which really was something of a highlight of my day. That goes to show exactly how banal my life is, but at least I can take pleasure in the simple things. That ought to be worth something, right?

Okay, now I'm really mad because I read a stupid article on Tumblr about how racial stereotypes exist for a reason, and we shouldn't look too deeply into the criticism of popular media because it's Just How Things Are, and they're so wrong that I can't stand it. I hate how Asians are treated by the mass media, and I refuse to accept some ass-backward white person opinion about How Things Are because they don't know, and I'm not one for Complete Objective Truth, but I'm advocating it now, because the systematic oppression of an entire race of people, and the aiding and abetting of this travesty by the selfsame people who call themselves proponents of social justice is not a good thing and can never be a good thing no matter how prettily they may try to frame it. And I'm just a girl at a computer screen; what can I possibly do about any of it? They're going to continue on in their merry and casually racist ways, patting themselves on the back for Enjoying Diversity, and there's nothing I can do to stop them. I can feel it like a fire under my skin, all the things I want to do and want to accomplish, and times like these, it burns so hot it's almost unbearable. I can't do anything, and it's so frustrating, and I want to go out and lead rallies and build barricades and shout down authority, but all I can do is sit here and be enraged. If someone put a torch in my hand right now, I believe I would take to the streets this very minute, doing my own part to overthrow the establishment that has held us in its miserable and misbegotten sway for so long, and if someone came up to me and asked me to fly to Washington to lead a protest, I would ask to be front and center, directly in the first line of fire, ready to die in my passion for a world that doesn't care. But all I have is me, and I want to explode. As you can see, it doesn't take much for me to work myself up into a proper indignation. Isn't that silly? Oh, but it's not, it's not. The world needs to be changed, and I think I was born to do my part in helping it happen. But I can't, not right now, and that's more exasperating than I can say. What wouldn't I give for a voice to reach the people? All I want to do is fight.

Trash

I say that I'm trash a lot. It's mostly because I have too many feelings about fictional characters, or I laugh at shitty memes instead of actual humor. But when I say this now, know that it's true:

I. Am. Trash.

There are lots of things that go into making me the disgusting garbage person that I am. There's my infernal laziness, my annoying personality, my complete lack of intelligence (ish; I mean I'm sort of smart), even my slutty valley-girl dumb-blonde persona (and I quite realize that those terms are problematic. But if anyone is going to reclaim them, shouldn't it be me?). All in all, I belong, quite incontrovertibly, on the compost heap. 

This is a true fact, and is one that I think about every day, but at this particular moment, it came about because I had to go to church with my family this morning. Call me a heathen if you will, but church on Sabbath is one of the low points of my whole week. It's not that I dislike the services, oh no- I just find it difficult to spend time with my family in this capacity. Mom kicked-started things by telling me that I should get a job because my grandma thought I should, and that I compared badly to Seth because he's working and I'm not (I am, but I guess this doesn't concern her). And I know I should; I hate myself for it. Trust me. But I don't know, it kind of totally pissed me off, like does anyone really like to be told that? My mom basically worships my grandma, and is always rude and insufferable when the topic comes up because she wants to bend over backwards to serve her. Which I sort of respect, because she is old, and I also think that honoring one's parents is a good thing. But, that being said, it's annoying that she's doing this now, because this whole time she was saying that what I was doing was fine, and if I want to stay in LA to do research next summer, that's okay. And it's kind of a given that if I did that, I would be working too, because I have to support myself somehow, but I guess in her mind research and work are totally separate things? Well, what do I know, I'm just a useless lazy academic. Ugh, I disgust myself. I'm not good for anything; all I do is take up space. Even my grandma can see it, and she doesn't even live with us. Someone should murder me.

After Sabbath school (which was okay because I was still buzzed from my Liquid Breakfast), we had to go to church. We met our friends, which is cool, but I totally didn't want to talk to anyone, so I had to be all perky and normal when I really just wanted to die. Which is, you know, not great. So then Mom made me sit on the open end of the pew so that if Dad came along he could sit next to me and not her, and this wouldn't be bad because I would have offered anyway, but she was just so authoritarian about it, and it rubbed me the wrong way. She knows I hate sitting on the open end because it makes me anxious, but I don't think she cares, so she didn't acknowledge it or anything, which I'm not asking for, but it just goes to show the dynamic. Then she sent me chasing all over church for a bulletin, and didn't even say thank you or anything. But this whole time, I'm meant to be cheerful and supportive and act like a good mom to her, which I can do because I AM a good mom, but it made me all grumpy. Like, okay, I know my mom takes me for granted. She ignores literally everything I say unless it's related to her, and she only asks about my life when she can get a funny story out of it or make fun of me to my grandma. She uses me as a personal therapist and takes it as her due, and I don't know if she even likes me (she's my mom, so she loves me, but that's different). And I know all this, and I accept it. But it's times like these when it pisses me off the most. 

I would never complain about this to anyone. I feel extremely guilty even writing this here. I know very well that I'm a terribly person, and I don't deserve the roof over my head or anything like that. Let's just be clear about this. It's not like I would ever show this in any way or anything, so don't worry about me acting badly, even though the badness is well and truly inside me.

Anyway, so we had to wait forever after church because our family is nothing if not inefficient, and our friends were very nice and waited with us (as did Talia's gross boyfriend), which was perfectly delightful, or at least would be if I had been in a better mood. But I wasn't, so it wasn't delightful at all. 

After church, we came back, and Mom and Dad were very cheerful. Mom was normal, but Dad was manic, and it was a completely uncomfortable hour before he finally left for the church seminar. I don't know how he can't see that the bipolar diagnosis fits him like a glove. (Oh wait, yes I do- he's completely blind to anything he doesn't like. Denialism at its finest, y'all) Fortunately, he did go to the church seminar, and he wen out the door just now. Gosh, it's so hard to deal with him! Of course, it's my job to do it, so I feel bad for being cranky (which, objectively speaking, I'm not- cranky for me is barely anything), but it's really really hard to be patient. Wow, I'm telling you, there's not enough alcohol in the entire city for all of this (we live in Blue Zone Loma Linda, so this isn't an exaggeration). I usually end up sitting there scratching the skin off my wrist and thinking "I want to die, I want to die" over and over while everyone else goes on their merry way. What can I say? It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it. 

I'm much better at dealing with my siblings, although I'm also convinced that they hate me. Xander's always filled with rage, which is scary, and it's hard to tell what Anselm is thinking, and Talia is so sad, but at least they don't completely disregard my personhood. Don't get me wrong, I love each and every member of my family, it's just hard to take care of them all sometimes, and I get frustrated. But as I'm going through hell, I should keep going. It'll all make me a stronger person one day.

So I went to bed all excited and happy last night because I thought I would get to be home alone for a bit today. But then I remembered this morning that today is Dad's day off from the program, so he's here, and since Xander is at USC and the kids are at school and Mom is at work, there's no one else but me and the Father of Sighs in the house. Which shouldn't be a bad thing, but I fear for my very mental wellbeing here. He's going to come have a Heart-to-Heart conversation with me, I just know it, and it will be deeply uncomfortable. I think I will mix up my vodka-cranberry today. I've been saving it precisely for a moment like this.
Dad just came in and asked me if I wanted to hang up laundry, and I really don't, so I said no, but then he asked if I wouldn't do it even if it was with him, and I was like no??? I just said I didn't want to?? ugh. Now he's going to be all mad at me. But honestly, I think that's better than having to go hang up laundry with him and have him talk to me all serious-like. I'm such a bad person! It's my job to take care of my family, and I'm not doing it! It's hard, though. Like, it's so hard to even make myself get up in the morning, especially knowing what's coming, and then when it does happen, it's so hard to get through. Unless I'm drinking. But even then, it doesn't help as much as it should.

Yesterday we had to go to CKC, which was awful, but now it's over for another week, and we won't have to go back until the next time. I had to teach all these little kids, and they were nice enough, but they all are working on different things, and have different skill levels, so not even the time-honored trick of making them play chamber music together would work. I sure did try though, yes I did! And they all got their lessons, even though some of them were a bit rushed and there was a bit of waiting around involved for some of them. But then one of them went off to throw up in the bathroom and came back, possibly without washing her hands, and now I'm afraid I'm going to catch Child Flu and have to be hospitalized and quite possibly receive expensive and inconvenient surgery to remove my stomach or something. Woe is me! Why must these families be so dedicated to coming every week? Maybe I should invest in a biohazard suit or something. Then that girl's little sister asked me why I had a pseudo-lisp (except she didn't say that, since she's like eight), and I wasn't sure what to say. I mean, it's because my tongue position on the alveolar ridge is lower than average on my sibilant fricatives, but you can't exactly tell that to a third-grader, now can you? She didn't mean any harm by it, and I'm perfectly fine with my speech patterns because I'm a linguist, not a prescriptivist, But I felt self-conscious all the same, and spent the rest of the day trying to avoid making any [s] sounds. Such are the trials we face.
After CKC, we headed home so we could drop off Anselm and freshen up (and I could change into heels and put on lipstick), and then we went off to meet Xander's friend Michael (whose church we played at recently). We're all geeks, so we wanted to go see Ultron and then dissect it afterwards, and everyone was pretty excited about this. It was so worth it! We all hated the unnecessary romantic subplot between Natasha and Bruce (like what the hell, guys, that's so wrong) and were suitably indignant about the treatment of the Maximoff twins. We also had quite a nice discussion about the properties of vibranium, and it was just a really lovely time overall. There weren't that many places open at that time of night, so we went to BJs, and I was okay with this, because I got to eat some egg rolls and a beignet and an obscene amount of ice cream, and I was even lavish enough to order a strawberry lemonade instead of a water (it's not extravagance– it's sophistication). Michael managed to guess my MBTI type immediately, which was very impressive, and I guessed his without any problem, which was probably less impressive because he's an engineer, and therefore more than likely to be an INTJ. I'm still not sure he knows my name, but at least we can talk to each other now. We had a nice discussion about how badly The Imitation Game treated Alan Turing, and how terribly offensive that was to our sensibilities (okay, mostly my sensibilities. But still). He's really such a nice boy. I would like for him to marry Talia.

Okay, I'm back! I was out with Natalie just now. We went to the College Night™ at the local bowling alley, and it was super fun! The last time I was there, I was on a truly horrible date, so this time was much better, and managed to purge the place of all its bad memories. I got three strikes! Which you'd think would be bad, but a strike is really a good thing, and means you knocked all the pins down, and then you get a lot of points! So I got a lot of points, and I was suitably proud of myself. Also, the word "strike" makes me think of labor and revolution and cool stuff, so that was a nice little added bonus. Bowling balls are so heavy, though. I developed a technique based on the one from Parks and Rec, and it worked decently, but not as well as the professional-looking people around us. But who cares? We had a lovely time, and that's all that matters. There were some pretty cute guys there, and they all seemed to be very friendly, especially since we were looking super hot, and that always adds a nice little touch, you know?
Afterwards, we didn't want to go home yet, so we went to the 24-hour donut shop in my town for a little pick-me-up. We got sweets and shared a Thai iced tea, and it was unhealthy and wonderful. We stayed there for maybe an hour, just chatting about random things, and it was so nice that I barely even thought of death or anything. Is this what living in the moment is all about?

Oh yeah, so I got my new bras finally, and they're super cute. I got this silky hot pink push-up one, and then this mink padded one with lace trim, and they both make my boobs look awesome (well, more awesome). Ordering online is where it's at, guys. I don't support Victoria's Secret because they have problematic business practices and disseminate bad information and promote unhealthy body images (and they're hella expensive besides), but it's sometimes hard to find a substitute, you know? Fortunately, I found a cheap online retailer based in the UK, and they have good sizes and decent shipping, so I can get stuff from there. Why do I love shopping so much? Maybe it's been engrained into me because of the materialistic society I live in. Maybe it's an internalized gender stereotype. Who knows? But it's one of the simple pleasures of this life.
Actually, I was hoping to do one last big summer blowout before the kids started school, but that didn't happen. I wanted to go to LA or at least to Irvine and get some good deals on shoes and dresses and such (maybe I could finally even buy the big floppy summer hat that I've been dreaming of for years), but no one wanted to go with me, and I didn't want to go by myself, so sadly that dream never came to be. But let's look at it this way– at least I saved a lot of money.

I should probably go to bed soon, because my habit of staying up until all hours is definitely not a good one. But (in the words of Skye Whatsit from Guys and Dolls) this is my time of day, and there's not a single doll that I'd like to share it with. What can I say? I've never been in love before.
(That was a lie for the sake of allusion. I'm sorry.)
It's really too bad that time passes so fast when I'm not doing something distasteful. If I'm even sort of content, on it goes, into oblivion! And I'm left wondering what on earth happened, and how I got to be so old. (It's only about four months until I'm 21. Can you believe that?) But then during the day, everything goes by really slowly, so I can't win. Tomorrow, we have to perform with CKC, but that's in the evening. But still, it'll be hanging over my head all day. Hmm. Maybe I should do my nails. I'm in desperate need of a manicure. And while I'm doing that, I could try that avocado face mask I read about yesterday, and possibly a hair mask too because my hair is seriously dead (literally and figuratively), and really thin and fragile. (Oh no, my hair is just like me.) Let's have a spa day, guys! I'm totally going to put tea bags all over my face. I'm pumped. Let's do this!
All righty, time for me to go. I will return (probably). Goodnight!