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One Day Blog Silence

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Sweet cracker sandwich. Here I am in my living room, on the last day of classes. There are frat parties and…party parties going on everywhere. There’s even, in fact, a party in my pants – and everyone is coming. (Would you like to come to…the pants party?) I am silently watching Spongebob Squarepants, and trying to recover from the fact that I just drove to a town whose name is pronounced entirely incorrectly just so I could eat my weight in fried Tater Tots. And then I had ice cream. Oh yes I did.

There’s not a lot more than that to say. Finals are next week, so if you thought I was stressed before…I’ve also got a ton of stuff to get in to various committees and boards and organizations and individuals before they will give me my fellowship – and I have yet to hear back from anyone about summer school funding… I think classes start next week, so that shouldn’t be too stressful or anything. ;)

No, really, now I’m just looking around the room trying to find something to post about. I think I’m going to go have a life now. Or at least irritate my neighbors with my guitar.

I can’t begin to explain the way I’ve been feeling for the last few weeks. I don’t think there are words to explain it. I wrote the most incredibly personal final paper for my English 666 course and turned it in on Tuesday. There’s no doubt I’ll get a horrible grade on it, but it seemed like it marked a turning point in my writing. There was something more raw in it than there usually is in anything I say or do.

Maybe because I was actually telling the truth.

Things have been a roller coaster of insanity. I’m not sure whether I’m going up or down. Everything that should make me smile makes me cry, and everything that should make me cry makes me cry harder. I got to school early this morning and no one was in my Economics classroom, so instead of turning on the lights in this huge hall I just waited until my eyes adjusted and walked down to my usual seat. It’s completely dark except for the exit signs above the back doors, the light from the hallway way back behind the 50 odd rows of seats and this laptop monitor. I wish it would just stay this dark. I wish I could curl up in a ball on the floor, with all of the toe jam and old gum and empty water bottles of thousands of entitled Carolina students, and sleep for a million years. Sleep until it all made sense.

A question for those of you with sane and stable relationships: How does one go about being an emo and moody girl while dating a non-emo or moody boy? Especially when said emo girl doesn’t feel comfortable sharing her emo-ness because of said non-emo boy’s lack of it?

Through your house is not fun. Leaning into the bathroom wall while the water runs. Curling in a ball in the bathtub. Gripping the walls back into your bedroom. Falling against anything that will support your weight while you try to clear off your bed so that you can get into it.

And the pain. The constant pain and the spasms of sharper, deeper pain. Like hot, steel claws sliced through my kidneys and then liquefied and spread, attaching themselves to every cell inside of me and ripping it away from where it is supposed to be.

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

Dios le bendiga, César Chávez. Things were better when you were around… now they’re just falling apart.

They’re selling bath towels with your face on them. Sandals, too. No one showed up when they were stripping farmworker rights from the minimum wage bill.

Viva la huelga, César. Viva la causa.

Las cosas paracen malas ahora, yo sé…Pero yo prometo que vamos a hacerlas mejor. Prometo que vamos a fijarlo

The apartment hunting yesterday went… particularly well. Herein is a true account of all that happened.

Sparklepants and I drove down a few nice, tree-lined streets off of a main strip through our town. We said “oh. This is not bad. This is rather pretty.”

We turned into the parking lot. I blinked. David Gray was on the iPod singing “smile like you mean it.” So I tried to listen to him. I did not want Sparklepants to think I was rushing to any decisions. There were no trees. We parked the car and got out. We went to the apartment we were supposed to be seeing. We could hear other people in there, being shown the place. We knocked a few times, but there was no response. We stood on the front stoop.

We listened to them talk about how there’s no dishwasher, and yes, the kitchen is very small. The window units for air conditioning. Etc. We stood there and listened for twenty minutes while no one responded to our knock/s on the door. We stood there while the smell of cat pee permeated the air. We stood there another seven minutes. At which point it had been about half an hour since the realtor person had told us we needed to show up. I was very grumpy. I was very hungry. I did not want to be there. I hated the place. It smelled and the people were…wow, really rude and not on time.

I looked at Sparklepants and said “I’m making an executive decision” right as she said “let’s go.”

So we, feeling like we were the rude ones in leaving, snuck back to our car and tried to whisper/talk until we were “out of hearing range” of the woman who clearly couldn’t hear that she had prospective clients on the goddamn doorstep for a half an hour while they went back to look at this that and the other thing again.

We went to see Adam Brody in a movie, and he was Adamy and Brodyish.

Someone felt the need to clue me in on details of the life of an ex-boyfriend that I would really rather shoot in the head than hear about ever again. Then I tried really hard not to be very, very grumpy and it didn’t work. I got home to a letter that was so incredibly mean and condescending that it alternately made me want to cry and feel very bad about myself and drive very far to the place where the person who wrote it lived and shoot THEM in the head. Then I took a shower. Then I realized I had forgotten something very important and ran straight from the shower to the car, stopping only very quickly to clothe myself, and drove to campus to help out a friend whom I had FORGOTTEN NEEDED MY HELP. THEN I GOT LOST ON THE WAY BACK FROM CAMPUS! Then I got home and got in a fight with El Boyo via text message, which really, after the rest of the night I should have known better. The night proceeded downward from there.

Bright side: Maybe I’ll get my emo closet after all.
Not-bright side: I’m probably really going to need it.

So we spent the night watching El Boyo jazz hands his way through being a member of Hitler’s army, oh, and also reacting emphatically to what people around him were saying. If there were an Oscar (oh, I’m sorry a TONY) for emphatic facial reactions, I would definitely say he won it.

I am still trying to figure out exactly how… okay it is for me discuss El Boyo on this blog. So bear with me while the dust settles and I drill this hole right into solid plaster and try to hang a 59 pound painting from it. When things crash down, ignore the screaming – it’s probably just a broken toe or something.

Then we had entirely too many French Fries, and I ate them ALL. And then they got cold, and I lost interest in food, and then I lost interest in everything and was grumpy for awhile, and then I watched King of the Hill and was EMPHATICALLY grumpy. With facial expressions! And I think *I* could have won some sort of award for my emphatic grumpiness, the aftereffects I’m still sort of trying to puzzle through this morning.

I feel like I’m back in ‘Nam. With the land mines and the fox holes and the what not.

Today we go to look at another townhouse. I have my heart set on one we’ve already seen, but this is cheaper and closer to town, and I know we have to comparison shop…but…FOREST! Forest that smells like the Sierra Nevada! Forest that reminds me of home and summers on the American River! A Deck! A closet into which I can fit both a chair AND my guitar and be very emo for HOURS if I choose to. And write songs! That are emphatic! And grumpy! And reactionary! A closet in which I can fling myself about and get streaks of mascara on the walls and bemoan the emo sadness of my life and be completely non-conformist – just like every other highschool student who listens to The Cure. I can eat chocolate in my closet!

But I must not get too attached to my closet. I must hold myself back. And I must go watch an Adam Brody movie instead of writing a 22 page paper which is due Tuesday – the paper, not the Adam Brody movie. And I will see it DESPITE the horrible reviews it is getting, because it is Adam Brody! And he is very ADAMY in his BRODYISHNESS. And then I will ogle rugs and lamps at Urban Outfitters which I cannot afford! And maybe even get more paint samples! But there will be no cleaning of my room today! Why? BECAUSE I AM GRUMPY! AND REACTIONARY! AND DISINTEGRATION WAS THE BEST ALBUM EVER!!

As a decoration in my new bedroom.

No, I will not get it (I mean who could afford that much for a lamp anyway), but I will sigh over it a lot, instead of studying elasticity and preparing for my Economics study session.

On Monday a panel of people gets to decide whether or not I get to go to this school anymore. I am oddly noncommittal about it. Mostly, I think, because if I sit down and realize what is happening, I will die.

There is a crazy guy threatening to make Virginia Tech look like a day at the park near my hometown. How sick do you have to be to threaten something like that after what’s happened? How sick do you have to be to copycat such a disgusting and horrible crime?

No matter what I do, every day it seems like there’s something new throwing itself at my head. And not missing. I pay my bills on time, and I pay over what I owe and I still end up with overage charges for things I didn’t even do… I get a 100+ dollar phone bill two days after I get a phone to replace the one that died two months before my upgrade was allowed…the phone I put on the credit card that I made sure had enough money on it just to find out that they processed my phone charge immediately and have yet to post the payment that was made before it to ensure there was enough there to cover it.

My dad was helping me with medication and insurance, so I went to the doctor…I got my medication, I had my budget perfectly worked out, and then I… suddenly the money I was counting on wasn’t there and when they go to charge my account for my health insurance the money won’t be there. It won’t be there for my cell phone bill either. And it won’t be there for the overage charge on a credit card I had enough money on to pay for exactly what I paid for.

Every day new bills come in from the hospital. Every day I can’t afford to replace the food in the refrigerator. Every day I look at my dirty clothes and know I can’t afford to do my laundry, and every day I sit down and try to figure this all out, and try to keep an even head, and try to be responsible, and budget and make damned sure I have enough to cover my expenses, or cancel whatever it is I can’t pay for, and still somehow I end up drowning.

And the funny thing about it is…now, if I get sick, I know I can’t afford to go to the doctor, regardless of the fact that I have insurance. So I know I won’t. Now I know I can’t afford to go to the psychiatrist, or the psychologist, so I have to cancel my appointments. Now I know I can’t afford my medication, so I’ll go without it and end up curled in a ball in the closet, slamming my head into a wall hoping the bad things will go away. But they never do, the old bad things, the new bad things…they’re always right there around the corner. And suddenly I have no skin.

There’s a bit of a survey under the “Things You Didn’t Want to Know” page. Just some more getting-to-know-me stuff. :)

ETA: If you have a blog, a livejournal or even a Flickr account that you’d like me to link to from here, just because you love me and you’re my friend, please drop the URL in the comments and I’ll get on it. [Maybe I’ll even make a new page for links since it’s so ridiculously easy when you don’t have to do anything but type and WordPress.com input areas don’t even seem to RECOGNIZE iso-latin characters or HTML entities]