To Zion

It's intriguing how time can so drastically affect perception. All other things being equal, an elapse in time has the power to alter personal emotions, and transform universal ideals. This fascinates me. It relieves me. Time may not heal all wounds, but it certainly can change how you view them.

(It upsets me that people, literate people, have yet to master the use of "but". On Facebook, someone's political views are listed as, "Very liberal....but, I'm voting for Obama." No no, no ma'am.)

I'm sleepy, but I feel bad about taking naps because my roommate never does, and I can just sense her judging me. (It's bad enough that I choose to eat cookies and chips at midnight, and frequently make early am runs to the vending machines for a lemonade or Sprite.) I went to sleep last night, or this morning rather, at about 5am, and woke up to start my day at 9am. My friend called me at 1:15am which sparked an argument because we agreed that we would talk at 1am. The argument lasted just short of two hours. We spent 1 hour and forty-five minutes arguing about the value and significance of fifteen minutes. Ah, irony. It was, however, the funniest and most insightful argument I've ever had.

But things, as they always do, took a turn for the worst and soon commenced the "let me get to know you" conversation. But we've been friends for over a year now, so it's not as if he doesn't know me, so it was more like "let me get to know you" conversation. And there's the problem. Multiple problems, actually.

Problem 1: I haven't been single long, and I don't believe in rebound guys. Especially not good guys. I've rebounded on some clowns, but who cares.

Problem 2: I wouldn't give him the time of day when we first met (though at that point in life, I wouldn't give Pharrell Williams the time of day if he tried), but I just have this guilty feeling that the only reason I'm giving him even 1 in the morning now is because.. ahem.. money. And I know that's not it! But it keeps coming into my head, and it's hard to ignore.

Problem 3 & 4: To be discussed later, if there later becomes a need for further discussion on this kid.

In other news, after much meditation and discussion with said friend, I've decided that it's not that God doesn't want to see me happy, rather he wants to see me happy for the right, and only the right reasons. He doesn't want me to find happiness in any place, because if happiness is found in the slums, there's no reason to ever leave. It makes sense. I feel you, God.

Foible

Anytime I am happy, something happens to bring me back to the sad individual I am obviously destined to be. This entire weekend is the proof. But more on that later.

I'm trying to stop thinking about Brandon. Thinking about him makes me.. sad, and upset. I'm happy he's having such a great time, but I also feel like shit because he's having such a great time without me. And it's like, even when I am having an ok time, I always think about how much more fun I'd be having if Brandon was there. And I don't think he does. I just feel dispensable.. I feel like he got over us in like two days. And I'm still having a helluva a time coping. Euh.

My mom is a fraud. Liar. Fake. Full of shit. Got my hopes of an actual relationship all up, just to shit on them for the millionth time. Should've saw this coming. Should've saved my tears for something worth crying over. Should stop being so forgiving, so vulnerable to being hurt. By everyone.. Why does everyone have the ability to hurt me? Why? Why does everyone who know I'm hurt, hurting so much... insist on hurting me still? Why?

If I died tomorrow, I'd be upset. I can't imagine dying without the chance to live..

I want to leave school and go pursue my secret dream. But it requires money, of which I have not a lot. But I'm considering selling my soul to unnamed person so that I can get started. Is it worth it?

I wish my roommate would leave so I can cry, and clear my mind. I can't finish this without doing so..

Viduus

I don't understand why God doesn't want to see me happy.

Barack Obama once had an 8 point lead for white women voters. After the pick of Palin, McCain now enjoys a 12 point lead with white women. God doesn't want to see me happy. He just doesn't, I am now thoroughly convinced.

A huge, and growing, part of me just wishes that I could marry rich, and then use that money to do the work I wish to do with the world. There's no college course that truly teaches humanity, fairness and balance. I know what I really want to do, I know how I need to go about doing it, and I think it's bullshit that I have to go through umpteenth years of schooling to help people the way that I know I can. I know I have the ability, and want, to change many lives. Just let me do it! I'm about go browse sugardaddies.com..

Being young is annoying. I hate having limited control of my life. I hate not knowing where I'll actually end up. I hate this constant feeling of pressure and impending failure and unhappiness. I want to fall asleep, and wake up ten years into my future (waking up once briefly to experience my wedding).

(Taking a brief break in thoughts to mention that I absolutely love Brandon Brown.)

I feel awful. My muscles, particularly my back muscles, have been aching and cramping since Sunday, I have a cold, and to top it all off, I started my period today, like a week early, and before I had a chance to go home and pick up my medication. Now I'm going to overdose on liquor store Motrins. See how God doesn't want to see me happy?

I think I am finally coming to grips with the fact that I have a fairly low level of self-esteem. It bothers me to actually type that, so I'm keeping myself from erasing it for the fourth time. And it's weird because it's not that I think I'm horribly ugly, or dumb, or fat or any of those things. I actually think I'm a pretty amazing girl, most of the time. But it's literally my self-esteem, my self-worth, my self-value. I constantly feel like I don't deserve anything, like I'm not worth much. For many reasons recently I feel dispensable. But, I'm on my period, so that could have a lot to do with it also. (So cut my wrists and black my eyes, so I can fall asleep tonight.)

I keep getting excited about coming home this weekend because I think I'll be able to see Brandon and Steve. ..Epic fail. But hopefully I'll be able to see some people, like Dino, who I surely do love.

I'm looking for room swapping options. I can't deal with this too much longer. I've counted ten, TEN times today I've seen my roommate and she hasn't said a word to me. Twice in the streets. [Warning: Random hood moment following.] This bitch got me fucked up.

I want pizza from the liquor store (it's truly delicious!) but I cannot get up and walk. God does not want to see me happy.

Breviate

It has been a little while since I've blogged, so I'm going to do a lot of summarizing, so be forgiving if this is not as eloquent as wanted.

College, or University as it is known to our English counterparts, is.. well, interesting. Though I admittedly lacked enthusiasm about going, I still feel as though my expectations have yet to be met. Perhaps it is because I never really set any, so instead of being wow-ed with surprises, I've been disappointed with the reality of it all. But I've been here short of two weeks, and I know that things will change. I'll get used to sharing quarters with someone I don't feel very comfortable with. I'll get used to not seeing familiar faces in my classrooms. And I'll get used to my daddy not coming in my room multiple times a night to open my heating vents. I'll adjust. It'll be fine.

In other news, Sarah Palin. If one ever needed proof that John McCain was a typical politician with less than typical political foresight, there's Sarah Palin. I don't, rather I cannot go into how at this moment, for fear of getting insanely irate and popping a blood vessel, but it's coming. But allow me to briefly say that two years of executive experience as a governor of an all but nonpopulated state does not make you more experienced or capable than Barack Obama, nor does it make you even a half equal pick to match the pick of Joe Biden, an international affairs wizard, Sarah Palin. Frankly, you fail. Miserably.

I got to spend nearly this entire weekend with Taqee. We had a nice time almost the entire time, until this afternoon, when things took a drastic, unexpected and quite ridiculous turn. Giving no details, he was wrong, I was wrong. And it took us upwards of four hours to finally never admit that, and move on. We're, as he would put it, nutty. But I love being with him, so even when he upsets me and I want to "blow his shit in", I really just want to play with his hair, too. This is so homosexual, God.

Soon to follow this will be a long excessive blog about my fears and insecurities, because as of right now, I have enough to share.

Wawa Aba

All summer I've dreaded the arrival of the past few days, and the next few to come. I wondered for hours on end how I'd say goodbye to the other half of my life who has always been by side, literally, for the past four years. I wondered if I would cry as I hugged my love and joy for the last time in what could be weeks. I wondered what my days would be like, without them.

And though I did have to say goodbye to my best friend, and I will have to give a final hug to my boyfriend, I won't have to know what my days would be like without them. I am finally beginning to realize that the bond I share with these two guys cannot be broken by distance, nor time. For no good relationship is ever always stagnant, as with changes come character and strength. And the separation or loneliness I may sometimes feel is nothing that a phone call, Greyhound bus ride, or occasional flight cannot remedy.

It doesn't matter if we're 40 minutes or several hundred miles away, or if I see you in December, or in a few weeks, I know that in some capacity, you guys will always be in my life, and I'm ashamed that I ever doubted the power of the love I feel for you, and the love you feel for me.

Retrocede

A year ago I wouldn't have ever imagined we'd be here today. I knew you only as the weird, skinny kid, who used to sing Mary Jane to me, but would change the words to Marie James. Though it was funny, I found it to be incredibly creepy.

I remember the day of homecoming you called me a bunch of times to see if I was still coming. I was in the car with Kalisha and Brandon, and I told them, "I wish he would stop calling me!" And when I got there, you was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, flowers in hand. I felt weird because I barely knew you, and didn't like you, and I didn't want you to waste anymore money or time on me. But I thought it was incredibly sweet that you did that.

Or the time you showed up at two in the morning to see me off to Philadelphia because we wouldn't see each other for two weeks. You brought me Sour Patch Kids and cranberry juice because those are my favorite. To this day that's the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, but I remember telling Brandon as we pulled off that I thought maybe you were far too into me, and I not that far into you.

Now sometimes I wish I could hear you singing that song, or walk down a few stairs just to find you waiting there for me, or get a random surprise visit.

I guess I didn't appreciate it much then, and I suppose I'm paying for it now.

Primrose Path

I was listening to Anywhere by 112, and thus inspired.

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Never has my flesh been inspected so thoroughly. My maculate ebony skin becomes beauteous at the pressure of his perfecting fingertips. Eager sweat gathers in the small of my back as dew begins to settle upon my lips. A closed smile lingers there, begging to be parted by your touch. Cleverly you tantalize me, your wandering fingers carefully avoiding my unwavering breasts, your saccharine lips only gently grazing against mine. Submitting to my hushed pleas, you turn my body into your clay, gracefully sculpting me against you. Your shoulder fits perfectly in the crook of the back of my knee, my left leg wraps tightly around your core. Frozen, for only a moment, we appear to be a bronze statue, glistening in the light of the distant stars. And then you enter me. Slowly. Cautiously. I sense the passion in your loins as your excursion of me quickens. My soft flesh buckles beneath your strength. Calamity grows deep in my lust. Rough trembles begin at my thighs and travels in quakes over my body as I explode. My fingernails dip deep into the earth beneath me. My walls collapse making it impossible for you to escape. Every trace of my pain is waved away as your delectation pours into me.

Your body comes down upon me heavily, flattening my breasts. Slumber captures us, and it isn't until the sun rays shine upon us that you retreat from me.