And, I guess
26 January 2009, 11:13 pm
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wrongI suppose it was just a speculation of mine. You know, a thought. A random inconvenient fantastical idea, that floated in from nowhere. I wouldn’t sound so dramatic, but I’m practicing my writing for the stupid English Regents tomorrow.
But simply put, that means: I guess I just got my hopes up.
It wasn’t a big deal, realizing that, oh-hey, there goes a possibiolity of a fun time. Of course, nothing is really a big deal when it comes to me and guys. I don’t have big deals, or drama. I don’t get upset. It’s “whatever” and “it doesn’t matter” and “who will I take an interest in next?”
Right. Okay, so, who will it be.
I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t really want to dwell on my failure as a girl, my failure at attractiveness, at witty repartee. I don’t ever like to sit and nurse a wound that will heal easily and soon.
But I don’t want to fail to notice my own sad attempts at femininity. The long blonde hair really does nothing for me, nor do the blue eyes, obscenely long lashes, curvy frame or even smile. Maybe it’s the laugh that turns them off, maybe my cheerfulness is just too obnoxious to behold for any length of time. Maybe the flirting was just that.
Sure. I can deal with that. I won’t think any more on the fact that I’m completely undesirable, too outspoken for my own good, and when the time is right to comment, I refrain. I refuse to pause any longer over my inadequacies as a determined but unsuccessful interested party.
So what if my laugh is too loud, my comments too sharp? So what if I say the wrong thing once or twice, or I’m less appealing than she is?
If I’m too big, I’m too big.
If I’m too smart, I’m too smart.
If I’m only a focus of amusement and flirtation, then I’d do better to focus my own attentions elsewhere.
But this could have been my chance. I let myself believe that, hey, this could be the rebound I’ve been searching for. The connection that pulled me out of ex-infested waters and into a lifeboat built with lighthearted gaiety and a less depressing spirit.
But it’s no big deal. I’ll get over it.
If I’m too romantic and hopeful, I’ve just got to suck it up.
Satisfied
24 January 2009, 10:39 pm
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xylophoneToday was a success. Xylophone audition did not go as well as I wanted it to, but I got a 100 on my singing, and Heather and Mr. Fleischman were there, and it was nice seeing them.
Oh, uhg. Forget it, this is not what is honestly on my mind right now.
I want to know why I can’t be happy around a guy? I can spend time with him, and laugh, and that’s cheerful. But when it comes to doing something that’s not just talking, I get awkward, worried. I’m nervous. I’m not confident. I am scared.
And I think to myself, come on now, honestly. It’s not like you’ve never done anything before, and it’s not like you’re doing the dirty with him right now, you just chilled out with him for a while. No pressure.
But, take this as an example. Hypothetically, let’s pretend I go to sit on his lap. For lack of a chair, naturally. And let’s pretend that when I sat on his lap I worried about breaking his leg… is my butt too bony? Can he tell how much fat I have on my legs?
And then he (hypotheticall) remarks, “It seems like you’re uncomfortable, though…”
Get a grip, Kim. Or get a seat. A decent one.
I deserve a little happiness and carefree fun with a boy. I normally feel unusual admitting that I should get something, it is my right to have it.
But I do deserve to have a little fun. Without worrying about obligations or what he or anyone else thinks of me. I’ve had enough trouble in the guy department for too long to believe anything different. My only real relationship was spoiled and sullied. Any crushing I do is done in secret because I don’t want to ruin friendships or make conversation awkward.
But if I have a chance to make something of a friendship turned attraction, than shouldn’t I take it? I’m always ranting and raving about taking the initiative… where are my balls?
I don’t have any, but hypothetically let’s pretend I really should grow some and take that chance.
It might be completely worthless and I might be bullshitting myself into thinking that something could come of this. But free, unrestricted fun would be so welcome, so warranted. I’m busy and stressed and a strong and confident person. I’m not the sort most guys are attracted to. Come on, I might be blonde, but I’m not a stick and aside from being a good laugher, a good listener, and an okay joke-maker I have nothing appealing going for me. I have an ex-boyfriend that everyone knows about and disliked, and I made a fool (publicly) out of myself for him for the majority of last year. I’m not a slut but I can be kind of a smartass sometimes, which puts me at the bottom of any list of interesting prospects, naturally. I don’t do drugs or party (yet, I guess), so my reputation on that front is clean. To boys, I’d be boring. Maybe a little bit pretty, because my hair’s kind of cool, but generally uninteresting and unintriguing.
Therefore, if I have an opportunity to change that… shouldn’t I?
I don’t want him to take up a huge part of my life, because my life revolves around my family, friends, and school. And success. I’m ambitious. But I’m worried that if I take a step out onto this particular limb, I’ll fall straight off the tree, and fall hard. I don’t want to be falling for anyone. It’s a crush, an interest, and that’s all it is. Nothing serious, but it’s got possibility. What if I make it serious, though? It’s so habitual to just gravitate toward the intense, serious, straight-faced attitude.
Why? Have I been brainwashed into thinking that serious is good? I want a lighthearted relationship that feels nothing like a relationship! A friendship, with benefits.
But then again, do I really? Didn’t I like the bonding, the adoration?
Ehh. I could live without it right now. It’s too reminiscient of last year’s catastrophes. A carefree series of rendezvous would be just fine with me.
The end.
Broken
19 January 2009, 9:44 pm
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writing flu I am. Broken, that is. Or, I think my writing mechanism might be. Andd also my motivation button. And perhaps my focus lever, too. I can’t seem to get anything done. I’m a little distractable, and I find myself daydreaming. But when I try to make the daydreams into stories (and hoo boy, would they make some good ones), the words won’t come. It’s very unpleasant. I feel dirty, or slimy; a little tainted, like I have some kind of anti-word bug I can’t get rid of. You know the feeling when you have the flu, and you’ve been puking all day and your stomach believes it should still be puking? But you can’t vomit, so you’re dry-heaving and it’s completely uncomfortable and painful, yet utterly unproductive?
That’s how I feel. I have the writing flu. It sucks, man.
And plus I have a stomach ache, too… I hope to God I’m not getting the real flu, too.
Kick Drum Heart 
Filed under: My Day, Ranting | Tags: after, amuse, amused, amusement, any, anymore, appeal, appealing, as, attempt, attempting, attempts, attention, attentions, attract, attractive, attractiveness, be, been, behold, believe, believed, big, big deal, blond, blonde, blue, blue eyes, boat, build, building, built, but, can, cheer, cheerful, cheerfulness, cheery, comment, comments, complete, completely, connect, connection, convenient, could, could have, curvaceous, curvacious, curve, curves, curvy, deal, depress, depressed, depressing, determine, determined, do not, don't, drama, dramatic, dwell, easily, easy, else, elsewhere, english, English Regents, even, ever, ex, ex-boyfriend, eyelash, eyelashes, eyes, fact, fail, failure, fantastical, fantasy, feminine, femininity, fiery, flirtation, flirting, float, floated, floating, focus, focused, focusing, frame, fun, gaiety, girl, goes, going, gone, good, guy, guys, h2o, hair, have, heal, healed, healing, heart, hey, hope, hopeful, i, i am, i have, i'm, i've, idea, ideas, imagination, imagine, imagined, inadequacies, inadequacy, inadequate, inconvenient, infested, interest, interested, it, it doesn't matter, just, just that, know, lashes, laugh, length, less, let, life, lifeboat, light, light-hearted, lighthearted, like, long, longer, matter, maybe, mine, my, my own, myself, next, nor, not, nothing, notice, nowhere, noxious, nurse, obnoxious, obscene, obscenely, off, oh, oh-hey, okay, once, out, outspoken, own, party, pause, practice, practicing, pull, pulled, random, really, rebound, refrain, refrained, refuse, regent, regents, repartee, right, romantic, row, row row row your boat, sad, said, say, saying, search, searching, sharp, she, sit, smart, smile, so what?, so what?! loud, soon, sought, sought after, sound, speak, speaker, speaking, speculate, speculation, spirit, spirited, spoken, stupid, suck, sucks, suppose, sure, that, thing, think, thinking, this, thought, thoughts, thrice, time, tomorrow, too, tuesday, turn, turn-off, turns, twice, undesirable, unsuccessful, upset, was, was not, wasn't, water, waters, when, where, white, who, will, will not, with, witty, won't, word, words, would, would not, wouldn’t, wound, write, Writing, written, wrong
I suppose it was just a speculation of mine. You know, a thought. A random inconvenient fantastical idea, that floated in from nowhere. I wouldn’t sound so dramatic, but I’m practicing my writing for the stupid English Regents tomorrow.
But simply put, that means: I guess I just got my hopes up.
It wasn’t a big deal, realizing that, oh-hey, there goes a possibiolity of a fun time. Of course, nothing is really a big deal when it comes to me and guys. I don’t have big deals, or drama. I don’t get upset. It’s “whatever” and “it doesn’t matter” and “who will I take an interest in next?”
Right. Okay, so, who will it be.
I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t really want to dwell on my failure as a girl, my failure at attractiveness, at witty repartee. I don’t ever like to sit and nurse a wound that will heal easily and soon.
But I don’t want to fail to notice my own sad attempts at femininity. The long blonde hair really does nothing for me, nor do the blue eyes, obscenely long lashes, curvy frame or even smile. Maybe it’s the laugh that turns them off, maybe my cheerfulness is just too obnoxious to behold for any length of time. Maybe the flirting was just that.
Sure. I can deal with that. I won’t think any more on the fact that I’m completely undesirable, too outspoken for my own good, and when the time is right to comment, I refrain. I refuse to pause any longer over my inadequacies as a determined but unsuccessful interested party.
So what if my laugh is too loud, my comments too sharp? So what if I say the wrong thing once or twice, or I’m less appealing than she is?
If I’m too big, I’m too big.
If I’m too smart, I’m too smart.
If I’m only a focus of amusement and flirtation, then I’d do better to focus my own attentions elsewhere.
But this could have been my chance. I let myself believe that, hey, this could be the rebound I’ve been searching for. The connection that pulled me out of ex-infested waters and into a lifeboat built with lighthearted gaiety and a less depressing spirit.
But it’s no big deal. I’ll get over it.
If I’m too romantic and hopeful, I’ve just got to suck it up.