The toxic nature of teenage relationships...

Last night, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor in my pajamas, listening to Man Ray by the Futureheads while I waited for the french-fries I'd just put into the oven to finish cooking, contemplating making a batch of chocolate frosting even though I didn't have the energy to make a cake to put it on, and wondering where the brownies I'd bought earlier that day had ran off to.


For some reason that put me in a poetic mood. 


When a friend posted on facebook about some relationship issues, mainly how everyone hurts him, this was what I had to say:


"People walk in and out of our lives every day. Some go through like wrecking balls, some go through like ghosts... and some never leave. Chuck Palahniuk said "your heart is my pinata" and maybe you just keep picking girls who could have that as tag lines. But not every girl is like that, I promise. We have to slog through the bad to get to the good. Even the blood and guts is worth it in the end."


This is a guy who I asked out via comic correspondence, where I'd draw a page of a comic and pass it to him and he'd add a page... and I got turned down, because he was trying to "work it out" with a previous incarnation of the heartache that plagued him. 


Over all, that makes me sad. I'd have been a good girlfriend if I was given the chance... but instead I got a "no" drawn into a set of six comic frames. That ended with "it's a long story". 


Apparently it's not. 


Teenage relationships are so... virulent. 


XO
Freak

"There's something wrong and you're not telling me..."

Sometimes I don't know when to keep my mouth shut. I have this horrible habit of saying to much when I'm upset because all of these things bubble up inside of me and if I don't say them then I'll implode. 


Sometimes I get upset over stupid things, like my boyfriend going to his best friends 21st birthday party. 


What's going to happen at the party? "I don't know." 


Who's going to be there? "I don't know." 


I don't want to tell him what's wrong. I don't want to say that I'm afraid he'll go to the party and get drunk and some stupid chick will be all over him because I'm not there. I don't want to say that I wish I could go, even though his friend gives off a major pedo vibe and his friends mother is a drug addicted bitch who I hate. I don't want to say that every time he's away from me, he has fun, and I feel like I'm missing out. I don't want to say that I hate that he's going to this party.


I can't say it because then I'll sound like a bitch, but now it's bubbling up inside of me and I feel like I'm going to implode. 


I can't ask him not to go, can't ask to go with him, and will end up spending tomorrow home alone doing laundry. Alternately, I will spend tomorrow home alone babysitting his friends exgirlfriend/friendswithbenefits who I've been friends with for four years because she's not supposed to know about the party.


Even though she does.


But I'm frustrated. So.Fucking.Frustrated.


Yes something's wrong. Something really fucking wrong but I can't say anything without being a shit girlfriend. 


I've been upset about this party since he told me about it last week, and it's not exactly getting any better. I'm just feeling more alienated, more alone, more abandoned over stupid shit. Over the gut instinct that something isn't right, over my jealousy, over... everything.


Now I feel like crying, but I can't because then he'll start to pry about what's wrong, and so I've resorted to my blog. 


My little safe haven. 


But now I'm upset and he's upset and he's not talking to me and I feel like crying and I don't want him to go and I hate that I can't say that and I hate that I don't like his friend because that means I'm not part of this and I hate that I gave up my plans tomorrow so that we could hang out only to have him find out that the party is tomorrow and I hate hate hate the fact that he doesn't get that I'm upset.


Fuck it. 


Just... fuck it.


I'm going to bed.


XO
FREAK

Tattoo crazy...

I, as a person, am VERY into tattoos. I have so many I want, and while I know I'll never have them all (not enough skin), I'm going to keep dreaming and collecting. 


Recently, I've decided on a few new one's (on top of my mothers name on my ankle, the word lovely on my wrist and a smiley face on my arm).


la nuit du chasseur <-- it means the night of the hunter, and while being  a beautiful example of the French language it is also (the English version, anyways) the title of by far my favorite song ever written by 30 Seconds to Mars. I'm not sure where I want it yet, though. 

This is a tattoo I designed myself, a celtic cross with Aequitas and Veritas (justice and truth) on it. It's partially a nod to the Boondock Saints (be still my heart) and partially a nod to my own interest in law and the legal system.

This is a picture of Kurt Cobain on stage. I'd like it in black and white on the back of my shoulder.

Anyways, I'll keep adding to the list. 

That's it for now. 

XO

Freak

College Survival is really a class?

I was not particularly thrilled when I walked into the community college for the basic orientation and was handed my potential course list. 


Art131 Intro to Drawing?


HD50 New Student Orientation?


Mth60 Fundamentals of Algebra?


RD115 Speedreading for College?


WR30 FUNDAMENTALS OF COMPOSITION?!


Come on!


I'm tutoring in a senior English class! I scored a 600 and 665 on my SATs in Writing and Reading! COME ON! I'm getting a transfer degree and three of those don't even TRANSFER! I'm going to be a creative writing major and you want me to take an Art class? 


UGH.


I was not a happy camper. 


Mainly about the WR30. 


Okay, more than mainly. Being put in WR30 had me reconsidering my choice to go to community college.


Just...


No.


So I went and sat through orientation, then went and sat and waited to talk to an adviser, and when I sat down across from the man who was to help me, I set my SAT scores on the desk and said "can we talk about putting me in classes that won't bore me to death?"


Darren, the young adviser/my personal hero, more than complied. 


He asked what I was studying, and I said that I was going to go for a creative writing degree and he tossed out the following classes:


Mth60 (didn't go away, even my SAT scores kind of sucked at Math)


WR241 Imaginative Writing (HELL YES I got into a 200 level class on just my SAT scores!)


WR121 English Composition 1 (which I have to take because of the Wr241 class)


HD100 College Survival (oh yes, I'm in a free one credit transferable class about how to survive College.)


AND THEN...


AND THEN!


I got an email from the college that I'd been bumped up to Mth95 Intermediate Algebra because of my SAT scores!


AND THEN!


And then I got an email from Darren telling me which Mth95 has the shortest wait list (since I'm wait listed everywhere else, as are all of the brand new students).


I got badass classes and a badass advisor and am now a college student.


Hell. Yes.


Anyways, that's that. I'm going to watch Rachel Maddow and have dinner and go to bed early because I haven't been sleeping and am feeling kind of sick. 


XO


FREAK

What I learned at school today...

I graduated from high school at the end of last year. I walked with my class, wore the stupid white cap and gown all the girls had to wear even though it made us all look like the Michelin Man, got my diploma, was given a rose by the teachers, took photos with my family while still wearing that stupid cap and gown, and it was done. I was free of high school. There would be no more soggy fries for lunch, no more bitchy girls (and a few boys) making life a living hell, and there would be absolutely no need for me to step back on campus. 


Well, today I went back. 


I went back on an errand for my place of work, and for my mother, and I gave up my work lunch hour to do this. I was dropped off at the school, went in, got a visitors pass, talked to people while I waited for lunch to start, then talked to the two teachers I was there for. 


First was my former English teacher and by far one of the most influential people in my life. Because of her I realized that I wanted to tutor kids, and with her help I got a handful of terror stricken students through their senior projects. She told me today that there "wasn't a single kid [I] couldn't connect with" and it made me smile when she put down my email address and cellphone number as emergency contacts not only for her and her students but also for any substitutes that might be called in. I'll be able to tutor any of the panicked seniors through any of their English or Civics related woes and that makes me happy. 


After that, I went to see my former Dance/Drama teacher, who is also by far one of the most influential people in my life. Because of him, my fear of public speaking is an after thought and I've learned to revel in the spotlight. He's even helped combat my clumsiness. I picked up something from him, we talked, I gave him a cold remedy that has worked for me in the past (mango mint tea, lots of sleep and a TON of old movies) and we talked about Roller Derby and the fact that we both will likely go to the Derby match this weekend. Then we talked about Kurt Cobain, dressing in drag, and the fact that breakfast for lunch at 1pm on a Saturday is far better than brunch any day of the week. 


Then I ran into two of my favorite people on the planet, my Kitten and the fabulous miss Lettie, and we talked for a bit and made plans to hang out, party, and eventually go up to Washington for the Kurt Cobain memorial thing I mentioned on my bucket list, as well as planning to move to England because that's what we've always wanted to do. 


Finally, I turned in my visitors pass and left. 


Walking back to work from the high school, I ran into a jumbled group of snot nosed kids who thought they were the high court of the universe and one of them, a boy with a face and attitude that only a mother (at her most desperate) could love, decided to spout the statement "I hate pregnant teenagers that walk around like they're just all that" and then flip me off.


1) I am not pregnant. The simple fact is that unlike your friends, mister dickwad, my boobs are proportional to the rest of my squishiness. 


2) I hardly walk around like I'm "just all that", especially today since I was limping due to a messed up ankle and on the phone negotiating a doctors appointment. Yeah, I'm SOOOO "all that". 


3) Finally, you are an asshole, go die.


So beyond the fact that when you walk on tho the campus the first thing you inevitably notice is the smell of weed, and regardless of the fact that while I was there a kid who has a restraining order against him and as such isn't allowed on campus happened to wander through, and ignoring the fact that I walked past Lindsay, who I adore to death, and she didn't notice me...


Disregard the fact that the school is now on a 7 periods every day schedule and it's fucked up the only class that made me feel 100% safe and at home (Modern Movement)...


Forget about the simple reality that the student advisor is still a bitch and still hates me and tried to get me to leave campus...


Just... Ignore all of that. Ignore the good things and the bad things that happened ON campus.


It wasn't until I was in the process of walking to work afterwards that I realized why I have this inherent idea that all teenage boys are complete douchebags until proven innocent. 


Don't you just have to LOVE high school?


Ugh. 


I'm going to go back to adding things to my bucket list. I'll post 101 through 200 as soon as I get them sorted out. 


XO


FREAK