People

"its funny how the people who know us the least have the most to say."
this is in regards to me thinking about how [people] are always curious about my love life or ask or make comments are how I am with the women, or ask if I'm dating you.

It just got me thinking, they really don't know 2 shits about me, but often talk to each other about me. For example, [they] told [each other] I was now seeing someone, and [then] made a comment about it. so it's just like, ugh. im not that special, stop talking about me so much.

This was Edited to remove names ;3.

A good friend of mine sent me this message the other day. I think what really struck me is his quote "It's funny how the people who know us the least have the most to say." unfortunatly, this is so abnormally truthfull. That's the reason i agreed to write a blog about it.

The problem is this. If you know someone really well, normally you don't go around talking about them. Unless they're your signifigant other and you're fourteen and think "ohmigod somebody loves me" which isn't true, just get over it, you're fourteen. I don't go around blibber blabbing about Theodore all the time, sometimes, yeah. But that's just normal.

We seem to talk about people that we're jealous of. "Oh, i'm jealous he has a love life and i have no self confidence so i'm just going to pick on him about it." That's not fair either guys. Just because someone seems more better off than you, never means that they don't have their own problems.

For example, i have one friend on academic probation right now because he found alcohol in college. He told me the other day "You have a 4.0, you don't understand what it is to have a hard life." Excuse me. With everything happenning with my mother i don't believe that you know what my life is about, so shut the fuck up and grow a pair of balls to realize that drinking every night of the week doesn't make you a grown up. [i don't even know if he actually said that, i'm just kind of ranting]

Any who. As people, we need to learn to be the stronger person and look at someone else and say "Hey, they've got something good in their life, but i'm sure they've got flaws too." Everyone has flaws. Something mom doesn't quite understand right now. Everyone has permission to do something wrong. In fact, do it wrong! That's how we LEARN.

The people who know us however, sometimes don't even know us-- on the other hand. They think, oh well i know that person so well, i don't have to work on their friendship. WRONG. That's how we get left behind at college with no reinforcements and mental disorders. I don't even want to talk to half of my friends in college because i haven't even gotten a message that said "Hi, how are you?"

It's common courtosy to keep up with your friends ya know, and you're just a dick if you don't realize this. Friends are friends because we support each other. Just because you spread rumors and lies, does not make you a friend, and ignoring the person completely equally doesn't.

I feel like this blog entry was really crappy so i'm sorry...

The lasik consultation is tomarrow and i'm worried about everything from Manassass to Cuba. Teddy's laying here, looking extra cute, breathing deeply, and wrapped in my warm snuggly blanket, so i may force him to calm my nerves. What do you do when you're so nervous and anxious that you can't sleep at night?

Or is that just my mental disorders weighing in?

Also, what's your thought at seeing therapists, should you see them early? Later? Balloon up because of the crazy ass drugs they put you on?

Maybe i'll say something about that tomarrow.

Sleep

Here's the truth: I haven't been sleeping regularly since my sophomore year of highschool. But, I haven't really been sleeping at all since the begginning of college. I know the reason.

There's no schedule.

I stay awake for homework, and don't just skip class because I haven't done it. I also will wake up on time, almost every day. Last semester there were only two classes i slept through, and that was with insomnia. That's pretty good i think.

People blame it on my caffeine intake, which has nothing to do with it, because as those silly friends from highschool will contest-- my coke addiction started well before highschool. It's just school, and the stress from school keeping me awake. Even after i finish a six page paper, i sit in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about what i could do to make it better, and this is at 4am, for a 9:30am class.

I've gotten pretty good about not letting myself becoming effected by my sleeping schedule. I'm proud that i've only missed parts of two classes due to it. I really am, because anyone with the same sleeping problems as me wouldn't bother to wake up, especially if they had someone as evil as my french teacher staring them in the eyes.

The true question is, i don't know how to ask for sleeping pills. I have a physical thursday and i know they're going to ask that question, cause when you don't sleep your immune system goes down for the count, along with your sanity.

I feel like, they're going to look at my mothers records and pretty much tell me that they're not allowing it in my house because of her, plus the fact i'm probably effected by the same disorder as her, and giving a nineteen year old the ability to kill herself is usually not a good thing.

Truth be told, i don't want to kill myself. There are sometimes i wish that i could just lay down and sleep for days-- but that has to do with the lack of sanity involved.

Does it make me crazy to want the pills, or does it just make me crazy to need the pills?

What is Fiction?

Fiction is that thing that authors make money with. It's also the thing that i happen to need the most practice with. I don't know if i could call myself an author, but i do know i have a lot of drive to be one.

Theodore likes this blog better, it's more real than fiction-- well duh-- fiction is-- fiction-- and it's nothing more than that or less than that. It's not real, it's not my thoughts as abrupt as they may be, it's getting into a character's shoes and then deciding on how to act as that character.

I guess i need to work on my characterization. I've started this new character, and her name is Maddie, and she doesn't care about her dad's death like she's supposed to. People think she's insensitive, and people think she's cold hearted, but really that's just who she is, and maybe people should start accepting her as she is.

Maybe people will. You see, these are the things that people just don't know.

I want to write something that will sell. I want to write something that will cause a person to want more, and to read through it in a day because they couldn't put it down. I want to write-- fiction!

But i don't think that you actually have to include the zombies, or weird bat creatures in your fiction to have a believable fictional character. I just have to work on recreating the real people, and the people who seem so realistic in my mind. I think i can do it through quirks.

My characters are too perfect, they need to be fucked up so that people maybe care about them. My characters need to be me, and they need to be rounded with family, and supervisors, and the friends who don't mean shit, and the friends who mean everything and somehow i've got to convey all of that without bluntly saying:

"This is that, that is this."

I'm not a Stephen King, but i'm also not a Josh, and i've got to find some middle ground. Somewhere may just happen to be in blogs for now, and later on maybe i'll progress to something more private.

I badly need positive feedback on anything, so if you're reading this, and if you care, and if you want me to find myself as a writer and be able to voice my oppinion clearly through characters and subcharacters and plot...

Speak up to me now.

Please i do need some hope. Someone to tell me that I can do it, in a less squealy voice then i'm used to hearing it, and without all of the conditions.

Glasses

I got new glasses today. To me they simbolize failure. Failure to spend my own money on them, and failure to not have enough to just get my eyes fixed in the first place. I've been saving up pretty much since i got my laptop (in the ninth grade). Five thousand dollars isn't just chump money.

When i got my job though, i began to save up more avidly. Mainly because all of a sudden, my dreams became reachable. Yet again i feel my family continue to tare me away from these dreams. I'm trying to get a second job now, so i can get more money, quickly before summer. Then i can try to get it done then (if i am a candidate). My sister's first remark is "why do you need another one?"

Because i'm getting five hours every other week and the company that i am working for is going out of buisness-- that's why.

I'm trying to apply to starbucks. Trying to figure out the Venti Soy Chai No Water, from the inside out.

They're cute glasses though. Kind of a goldie brown color, like the color of coffee, with little cut out flowers, slowly progressing in size up to the actual lense. Dad decided not to get a protection plan on them, which may bite him in the butt later. My glasses like to break, so i'll have to be extra carefull with them.

At least this year i won't be throwing wet flags at my face.

I need to get into serving, but i doubt my abilities. Remember that learned helplessness thing? How can i take care of people? I'm too clumbsy, i'm too stupid, and forgetfull. Fuck you. I can do anything. But maybe i'll start into serving small; starbucks, or just something that requires specialties more than just asking about borders rewards plus cards.

I rock at the plus cards, even as Borders is slowly meeting it's demise. It helps to believe in your product. It helps to believe in yourself.

Friendship

This random spur of thought was dawned after "The friends i've met this year have saved my life" which is completely true. They make me happy, but i do miss my friends from highschool a lot. They don't seem to want me to hang out with them. I keep asking. All i get are "maybes."

I should be content. I do have good friends now, friends who care, friends who listen. They're nice, they're sweet. I'd like to think that the friends that i had in highschool and me had a special bond though. I'd like to think that they had seen me through a lot, and they held me when i cried and they missed me when they moved.

I think i've come to the assumption that they didn't. I mean. Only one friend, do i specifically remember holding me when i cried, a lot of the others don't even know i have the capability to cry.

I don't keep my life from the friends i have now. Back before, i thought that if i told the highschool friends what was really going on, that they would run away from me. Then, now, it's like, it doesn't matter if these friends run because they're just temporary until my old friends come back.

I guess i better start treating them better, because my old friends don't seem like their coming back. With first kisses come avoidance of me, with first touches come silence to me, and all of a sudden it's like i haven't experienced any of those things at all. They talk to everyone but me. People further away then me.

They don't visit when their home. They don't call. They don't ask me how life has been. They don't want to hear.

What do you do when the people you once stood up for... The people you once called "Gold," don't want to hear you anymore. They're not intrigued by your writing anymore. You are no one special.

I've had my bouts with anorexia, and most people don't know that. The feelings that came with it, are just emptiness. If your soul feels empty, then shouldn't your belly be so too? I can't do without food anymore. I promise. Food's too wonderfull.

Right now i'm craving french fries, and a sweet tea from McDonalds. My boyfriend would take me, if he didn't have school tomarrow. My friend would take me, if i just told him to. And i bet you i could text several others who would be at my beck and call because they've grown to care about me.

Maybe all those years in highschool didn't mean anything. I was just the person they came to so i wasn't alone. I was their conscience.

I just want all of them to know, that i tried my hardest to be the best friend that i possibly could be, and even though none of them wanted to talk to me outside of school, or hang out with me, or trust me... I tried my hardest to stand up for them, to love them, and i still do.

And i'd be willing to give my sparce time to hang out with them now.

Whatcha gonna do about it?

Names are funny things, I got this blog's name on accident (Well not the URL, that was just kind of-- hmm-- first word-- pinapple-- let me get hit by a train-- well that's positive). I was thinking "in over my head" and then i was like-- well-- that's already a songs name and pretty much copying so that's not fun.

Then, i was thinking, i'm consumed. Consumed in everything around me, and everything about life steadily spiraling downward. Consumed in grief, consumed in my lack of grief, and i looked up synonyms for the word consumed, and then i saw the link in a little tabbie thing and i thought "Hey, that sounds interesting." So. Blame it on dictionary.com.

I wish i could cook. That's something not a lot of people know about me. I love baking, i love making cookies, and cakes and brownies and if it wouldn't make my family think i was quite so insane i'd probably do it more.

I think too much about what my family says about me. In this outer seeing of my family i seem to feel like they think i'm still the 8 year old dressing up as pocahantus (i don't care about spelling so just fuck off if that's really how you feel). They treat me like that a lot.

It feels a lot like they don't want me to succeed. It seems like in their minds they think that i'm the eight year old, and i can't grow up because i'm the youngest, and if i'm old then that must make them really old.

But here's the thing. I'm lactose intolerant, and when i get sick, i get really sick. Tears stream out of my eyes, and my stomach feels like something ripping it apart from the inside. If you know what that kind of pain feels like, then you're not eight years old anymore.

I only say that cause i've ate two boxes of girl scout cookies today and they're all engrained with milk (oh the calories).

About the family though, even in some circumstances that you'd think they'd want from me-- they hold me back. Oh, don't do the laundry because you don't know how. But they've never taught me. How am i supposed to learn how to be an adult if they never taught me? I'm not eight years old anymore, and the knowledge just doesn't occur in a dream from Jesus.

I've developed a certain learned helplessness. I try and I try and I try to fight my way around it, but no matter what the same people are still holding me back. I won't even be in a relationship with people attempting to hold me back from anything, why would i ever want to be in a family like that?

Metaphorically, i'm a fragile bird, placed in a cage for way too long, and the second i try to succeed, something that could be good for me, my family get's too afraide and they chain me down again. They go crazy, literally, fighting to hold me down. That's not love. That's never been love.

Let me free.

I need it.

I've been told all my life that I can't write. How can i dream of being a writer if i can't spell? How can i dream of being a writer if my sentences are still awkward and bordering on fragments? My answer-- I need it. There's something about writing that just relieves me.

I could tell you about how my mom's gone crazy, or how my sister's cat is timidly parading across my feet, or about how I can't spell the word parading, but it doesn't really matter because most word processing programs have spell check involved in them.

I could tell a person all of these things. In the end though, it comes down to the fact that I really don't care what you think of me, but in my heart i will always be a writer.

I haven't felt like adding a pretty colored layout, or finalizing details, because right now, i need the ability to write, and you only get 160 characters on facebook. I've already well gone over that amount in this blog and it's been about five minutes. I'm sure my facebook friends will be happy that I'm going to try to stop updating my facebook status and just put it here.

Just complain here.

I'm sorry if it offends you, if I offend you, but honey it's called free speech and i'm for once not afraide to use it.