YMCWhat?

I signed up for a membership at the Y today. Walking through the building I was all, 'Yeah, this is gonna be awesome, let's do this!'. By the time I got home after work I was more like, 'Uunngh,......no.' I better find some motivation pronto, or that's $200 down the drain that I really should have used on something else >.<

Horoscope 5/8/12

I should really get this tattooed. On my forehead. It could act as a warning label for what you're about to get yourself into if you try to talk to me.

Horoscope 5/7/12

Ill with wanting...

All I want right now is a kiss. I remember exactly when my last kiss was and it wasn't a very happy moment. All I want, all I can think about, is finding someone that wants to kiss me so much they just do, and damn the consequences. All I want is to be wanted. :/

Awake...

Whoever you are, we better be having one hell of an adventure.

2 am

I need to remember this.

Found it :)

I want.

I want and I want and I want and I want and I want and I can't figure out exactly what it is I'm so desperately wanting.

The closest, I think, is someone. 

I want someone that makes me stop wanting. I

 want someone that makes me feel wanted. 

I want someone that desperately wants me as much as I want them.

For the first time

Today I wondered what it would be like to commit suicide. (Before you freak I didn't actually think about doing it, just what it would be like.) I was crawling around on the floor of the shed trying to find a bottle cap my grandfather had dropped, and I reached behind the shelves and almost cut myself on a huge, jagged piece of glass that had fallen behind it. There was one small moment where I paused and realized how easy it would be. I had the perfect excuse - how was I supposed to know a massive piece of glass was back there? All I'd need to do is shove my hand back there and my wrist would be sliced open like soft butter with a steak knife. Obviously the shock would hold me immobile for a few minutes, and knowing me I'd probably be morbidly fascinated by the blood rushing out, but eventually there would be pain and I'd stagger back into the kitchen (no one would hear me if I just cried out) and everyone would freak out and knowing my family they'd probably try to drive to the the ER themselves after saran-wrapping my arm up. Maybe I'd make it, maybe I'd have waited too long, doesn't matter. Either I died and didn't have to deal with all this anymore, or I live and they remember that they could loose me at any moment, maybe from an asthma attack, maybe just from doing my grandfather a favor.

I didn't, obviously. I carefully picked up the glass and put it in the bin, finished my search, and went back inside to listen to the grown-ups talk about how mom can't do anything with her life because I'm too dependent on her. I'm not worried that I had these thoughts. What worries me is, hours later, wishing I hadn't thrown the glass away, just in case.

Is it sad...

that I dream about that?

Yet another night

Sitting around like normal while my mind is screaming things like "NONONONONOICAN'TANYMORENOPLEASEGODNO" and trying not to let it show on my face. I thought the medicine was supposed to make me feel better, not give voice when I feel worse. :/

Have you ever...

...written something in your head, something beautiful and eloquent and perfectly worded, while you were driving or in the shower or at the park, and you think about it all the way home so that you won't forget it, and you're so excited about it and you're sure that it will be so amazing that some journalist is going to accidentally find it and think it's brilliant and want to publish it in a world-famous magazine and the entire planet will see how smart and funny and amazing you are, and when you get home you can't even remember what the subject was, much less the eloquent speech you were going to dazzle the world with?

Yeah. Just did that.

A different kind of death.

My creativity is currently stagnant. I don't like the feelings this causes, feeling like I'm stale pond water, begging for evaporation.

Food for thought:

I wonder if creating the universe was just God's way of saying "FIRST"...

#songoftheday

Hootie and the Blowfish - Time (lyrics)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Q5UEf8kHa8&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Work is busy, and then it's not.

Which seems like it'd be a good thing, but it's not. I prefer busy. Being not busy means I have time to think, and that sucks. I pretty much carry in all my craft supplies with me every day so I have something to help keep me busy, which makes me look a bit like a hobo with my misshapen backpack and Mickey tote full of sharpies and sketch paper. I even bought a coloring book. Everyone else has coloring pages their kids did, I have pages that I did. So mature. But it's better to be seen as childish than to be not busy. Slow phones allow for introspection, a dangerous pastime. It's bad enough discovering things about yourself when you want to, but stumbling upon a sharp truth in the middle of a daydream really kind of sucks. Even if it's just small realizations, discovering you're not who you thought you were is very unsettling. For example: I have come to the realization recently that red is not my favorite color. I know that seems completely inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but a person's favorite color says a lot about them, and my favorite color has been red since sometime in middle school. It's not that I don't like red, I do, just, if I had a choice of colors, I would no longer pick red. Have I changed? Or have I simply been deluding myself for years, surrounding myself with red in an effort to cling to the happy memories associated with being a Boggy camper in red unit? Whatever the reason, I'm different for this realization. Change is hard, but is it really that hard when you're not really changing? When you're just discovering a basic truth that you've kept hidden or ignored? I don't know. But my favorite color is not red. It's raspberry. A very specific shade of dark raspberry pink. It's so specific, in fact, that most things that label themselves 'raspberry' hold no appeal for me. I also like turquoise. Bright, turquoise. My first clue for that one should have been when I bought that purse. The most expensive accessory I'd ever purchased and I chose to get it in turquoise? Not exactly normal, that. But then, I've never really been exactly normal.

Note to self: