Hey you guys! 93 people have visited my journal this month so far and this is only the third time I’ve written! Seriously, what keeps you guys comming back? I don’t get it.
So…yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot about life, lately. We’re reading Emily Dickenson poems in my American Literature class and the woman was seriously obsessed with death and the brevity of life. In half of her poems her view of death reads as something to be feared and the other half portrays it as a welcome reprieve to the human condition. I guess my largest concern is that there is nothing after death….that we just cease to exist….void. I think even hell would be better than that…..after all…pain can be a very sensuous thing. (Oh lord…that made me sound like such a sadist…I mean sensual as in dealing with the senses…not in the sexual sense…even though I suppose that could be fun too…) At any rate, I’m glad to be alive. I’m thrilled to know that every day I’m doing something, however insignificant to better myself. Even on my shittiest possible days I’m glad to be around.
I’m sorry…I’m really being weird right now. You know what I wish…I wish that people would used the term “weird” in the Victorian sense…meaning fantastic or supernatural instead of abnormal and excentric. That was my tangent for the evening… It’s my journal, ding-dang it! I’ll go off on a tangent if I darn well please!
So yes…where was I? Ah…I’ve been weird lately. Last Friday I was totally PMSing….I like to think that I don’t get PMS badly, but I guess last Friday morning kind of blew that idea away. Well, I was feeling stressed to begin with, then I was overcome with melancholy while reading Dickenson, and then we watched a SAD, sad movie in Spanish and that was it…I broke down bawling in Spanish. Now, I wasn’t all out sobbing, if that’s what you’re thinking…but I was certainly a little more than “misty.” Really, there’s nothing in the world that’s worse than crying in front of other people…for me, anyway. And I’m not a graceful or pretty cryer, by any means. You know how actresses always seem to weep so prettily in movies….makes me sick. I don’t think anyone cries that way….and if they do, they’re faking. I, for one, get all red and snotty and gross when I cry. I don’t think anyone should ever have to witness that. And the very worst thing for me when I’m trying not to cry in front of a person, is when they talk to me….or rather…expect me to answer them. Because I know that the instant I open my mouth to talk my speech will not be my usual calm and collected words, but instead a jumbled, incoherent conglomeration of sobs and sniffles. All of which could very easily have been avoided if that stupid-ass person could have just left me alone until my composure had sufficiently been restored. And I don’t cry for pretty reasons, either. I cry when I’m angry, frustrated, tired, and stressed…very rarely do my tears actually express sadness. I guess I just don’t deal very well with being anything but happy….that’s probably why I’m so happy-go-lucky by nature. Good thing too….because I certainly look like hell when I’m not. Which leads me to my next point, whoever said, “You know you’re beautiful when you’re angry,” was a fucking idiot. Nobody’s beautiful when their angery! Where do people come up with this shit? I know that if anyone ever told me that, I’d be even more furious. That’s like someone telling me that I’m “cranky.” Ohhhh….that’s the worst. Anyone who tells me that I’m “cranky,” weather I’m crabby or not, will rue the day. My fury will rain down upon them in firey brimstone! Either that or I’ll cry….and then they’ll have to see me…all ugly and snotty. Then they’ll regret it….that’s right.