My Shit Show

It's not even 9 and I'm drunk as the dicens. nopt really wasted yet, but I'm fucken drunkkkkk. It's great. I love it. And now I'm gonna eat./

My Secrets

I guess I usually come off to people as pretty open as far as sharing goes. But truth be told, there are a lot of things that nobody but myself knows.

It just so happens that I got the "sit down, we need to talk" from yet another pair of concerned friends last night. It happens every year. I'm never really in the mood to be lectured (which explains why I never attend class) and this episode of suffocatingly overbearing mollycoddling, for one reason or another, irked me, and I let slip a piece of information, a secret, that I immediately regretted uttering. They can say that it doesn't change things as much as they like. But I know that it has, like it always does.

Even though I know they do it out of love and genuine concern, I can't help but think that I hire professionals to take care of that shit. I want my friends to be my friends, not my psychoanalysts. I just want to go about the rest of my life as normally as I can, but it seems like every time I try to start over clean, something has to happen that throws equilibrium to the shit hole

Girls can be so damn annoying sometimes. Diagnosing everyone they meet with whatever the last mental health problem featured in Cosmopolitan was. So you've taken a psych class. Good for you. Doesn't mean you know jack shit. Yea, I'm bitter and kind of pissed.

I've been in and out of the OR for ten years. I've been on and off meds for the same amount of time. In that time frame, there are ten times I should have died, but didn't. My question is, "What makes you think you can do so much better than the efforts hundreds of people over the course of a decade to fix this mess?"

My Independence

I'm beginning to think that I wasn't cut out for a conventional relationship. I tend not to be emotionally attached to people, and I'm not very much a fan of sentimental shit. I have to be alone for a good part of my days. It really bothers me when I don't have that luxury. And although I've never really had any problems with fidelity, the very premise of commitment scares the crap out of me. The "c" word just evokes images of iron maidens in my mind. Torturous entrapment.

I know I'm overthinking things, and I know that's all kinds of horrible. But on the other hand, I can't just let slide the fact that I'm terribly unsettled by my current predicament. I definitely need some more time to consider things. In the meantime, I have to officially officially turn down Vegas this coming weekend (sad, I know) to slow things down. We're having K-BBQ at his place the weekend after that, so that should give me plenty of time to clear my head and perhaps not be so freaked out.

On a side note, I found out today that my blog reads like the "Norah" chapters in the Infinite Playlist book that got made into a movie starring that dude in Juno.

My Emancipation

(Of Mimi) I really like that CD right now. I'm not too sure why. She sounds shouty... and a little bit like she's been smoking too much, but I still love Mariah.

I've learned from my previous experiences. Or at least I like to think that I have. Thing is, this thing I have with this new guy isn't going anywhere. I know it. We talked. He knows it. I hope. I've been perfectly straightforward. No excuses now.

So there we go. I'm very loosely attached. It's all good.

My Pleasant Surprise

I had a good weekend. Shakespeare's Pub was fun, and I had a great time getting drunk with my single friends. We watched a lot of Sealab 2021. I smoked a lot of cigarettes... with Mike. We also got around to doing other things, but that's another post for another day.

We went to dim sum this morning around 11. Then we hit up YoWo. Smoked some more. I don't really know what to say. I think I've just been unofficially boy-ed. Wow.

My Valentine

y'all should meet him. Him name's Sutter. And he's a bottle of wine. I'm meeting up with Captain Morgan later too. And probably Jose Cuervo as well. I refuse to believe that SAD is single's awareness day. It's SIT AND DRINK Day. That's that. I love it.

My friends and I might be hitting up karaoke later. And then I'm going to Shakespeare's pub tonight. With friends. To get piss drunk. And maybe sleep with "Ted Mosby" Mike. I'm horrible. (And then I committed sins of the flesh... several times in succession.)

I'm drunkish already. It's the middle of the day. But it's happy hour somewhere, which is some kind of consolation. F man.

Sutter misses me. I'm gonna go finish him off. Happy Vday, all. I'm really dirty, huh? I'm also kinda drunkish. Almost. Gettin' there.

My Weirdass Day

So weird.

So I got ridiculously drunk with my coworker and some of his friends. They are my pet dinosaurs. And I'm the token baby. It's weird how Porter's Pub doesn't card. I haven't really hung out with them since summer, and I guess it was really fun. Object of the night: get the student drunk. Student: me.

So I crashed last night and woke up in time to take two quizzes. After my calc quiz, I walk up to turn it in. (It's funny how AP calc is sailing me through sophomore year of college... I should write my old teacher a card.)

I flash my student ID to a very familiar face. He says to me, "so I see you've recovered well, Jen." which I, in turn, think is a very odd thing for a professor to say. I quickly look up, and in the time that elapsed while dumb realization took over my face, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Of course I wouldn't have recognized him since I have only been to one calculus lecture this quarter. But surely enough, I had been piss drunk at the pub with my professor. My professor has seen me drunk out of my mind. My professor has seen me recite the ABCs backwards. My professor partook in the systematic inebriation of a student. My professor has bought me beer. (Little Devil, btw. Freaking good.) And what did I say? "Hi, Jared...Um. Professor...Jared." I never did get around to learning last names.

We had lunch and stuff afterwards. I think it's acceptable, considering we first met in a social context rather than an academic one. But it's strange, all the same, now knowing that he is actually a professor. MY professor, at that. We talked mostly of our mutual friends and such. He asked me what it was like working with Marcus. I asked him how they had met. Good stories. I had never envisioned myself as the kind to befriend a professor, but I guess I kind of have.

On second thought, however, I don't think I should go to Vegas with my dinosaurs next weekend... turns out Professor Jared is going, and I'd really rather not push my luck. Imagine if I had gone without knowing and things somehow got out of hand...

This is probably the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me. Ever.

M Y CRUNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I am so durhnkkkkk. It's great. I ahven't ben drunk for ages. And it's fuc kin ASEWDOMEEEEEWEEEEEEEEE.

Why am I blogggingg right now? I doan't know. IW'm just druhnk and being retaredc. Myh coworkers decvided that I neeeded to get drunk, so no I am. SO DRUHNK. And itg's not even 8. IU can't tyhpe properlyh. It suxcks. but whateverf.

I thinik i'm gonna die. Everyh single one of my cowoerkers bought me a beeeerrrrr. AN dnwo I'm asfdkjlaow3irefhwxz. FRIGGGBHEN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. I need to eat soemthign. tttoooooo cruhnkkkkk.

My Bitchy Sort Of Lunch Thing

I had to get lunch with this dude today. Same dude that I've been trying to avoid the attentions of for the past few weeks. Anyway.

I woke up and threw on running shorts, Ugg boots, and a basketball t-shirt. I made myself freaking as grody as UCSD-ly possible. I showed up at the Triton statue at 12 on the dot while smoking a cigarette. Keep in mind, this was all premeditated. We went inside and got food, and I tried to emanate friend vibes as much as possible. Then we settled at a table outside due to lack of seating. And then I asked if he would mind if I smoked while we were eating... and promptly lit up. Chain smoked like it was the end of the world. Let awkward silences drag on for as long as possible. Hopefully I came off as unattractive enough to quit pursuing. I really don't want to have to sit him down and tell him the plain and simple truth. This is me being a chicken.

But whatever works, right? I'm not much of a nice confrontational type. It used to be that I'd just laugh or glare if someone I wasn't interested in asked me out. But this guy's actually kind of nice, and I like to think that I've matured since high school. I really should get a hang of the gentle letdown approach, though. It'd make life easier. And that way I wouldn't have to act like a total Dbag either.

Why do I only attract guys I'm not interested in? Why am I always attracted to guys who aren't interested? I'm like... the queen of incompatibility. I swear... ever since I started college, life has been treating me as such. It's kind of annoying.

My Revelations In Full

Sometime about an hour ago, I decided that I should just get on with my life and lay my cards out on the table. This is the hand I've been dealt, and there's really no use in hanging onto them any longer. So that's what I did. I made a quick phone call and got it all over with. I didn't have any real expectations, which is all well and good because he told me exactly what I expected to hear: that he didn't really see me that way. And that's cool.

The more I think about it, the happier I am with how this whole shenanigan has culminated. My anxiety has quickly dissipated, and I get to be myself again around a totally cool guy with whom I am definitively "just friends." It's not so bad.

Now onto my previous revelation.

I think I've gotten the point across in this blog, as well as in my Xanga, that Tritones has been a touchy subject in my life. I don't know if I've ever been so hurt by anything in my entire life. It has cost me more tears than all of the other aspects of my existence put together. Yet the potential this group has lies dormant, just waiting to surface. I believe. No. I know that we could be the best. And I want to be the one to take us there. I know my capabilities, and I've made it my personal mission to take first at ICCA next year. For Rina. To flaunt it in the faces of everyone who didn't have faith in me.

As for UCSD, I've spent too much time here. Too much money. I've made far too many beloved friends. I can't leave. I can't bring myself to do it. With a new school comes new problems and new heartaches. At least here, I know what I am up against, and I have the most amazing and wonderful support group of incredible loved ones to help me through any and every which dilemma that presents itself. I love you guys more than silly blog entries can convey.

So that's that. I'm set on staying. Next year is going to be very different. All of you know that it isn't like me to settle. This shit is getting whipped into shape. It is my ultimate dream to make your hearts burst with pride.

My Revelation

I think I've had an epiphany. I won't explain it right now, but as much as it breaks my heart to turn away from the dream I've longed to escape to, I don't believe I will be leaving UCSD next year. Or the Tritones.

I'll explain sometime. I promise.

My Day Of

Yea... it's competition time. We leave in an hour. Right now, I'm deciding what to wear there. And I'm hoping it won't rain. I hope everything goes smoothly.

My Reluctant Competition Business

Tritones is deeply in the red right now. At least it is with me. I'm owed damn near 400 dollars in ICCA uniform money. Plus another hundo for dinner last weekend. And quite a bit more in odds and ends that I have yet to look up receipts for. I'm hardly one to be stingy, but five hundred dollars is a difficult sum to glance over, and reimbursement has yet to find its way back to me.

So this is what it's like to be a sugar mama. My absurdly extensive credit limit: just one more thing in a list of my available resources to exploit. I will be spending my Friday night polishing 7 pairs of shoes and lacquering a good 40-50 or so fingernails with French tips. Day of, I'll be ironing dress shirts and applying fake lashes. What can I say? I'd make an excellent butler if I weren't so adverse to being servile.

Thankfully, Chelsea and Shana will be caking show-choir-worthy makeup on the girls' faces. Rina's got the guys covered, as well as the girls' hair. And well... everyone else will just have to dress themselves and avoid excessive fidgeting.

ICCA is a tedious affair for the not-so-clueless.

At least I can look forward to seeing some of my favorite people in the audience. All I want is to make the people I love proud. If placement happens to come along with that, well then. Maybe all this mess will have been worth it.

For now, I'm still as tired as ever. Granted it is getting late.

My New Take

on love.

It's no news that I've recently started reading the Twilight saga. I'm not very much a fan of Meyer's writing, but I can't deny that it's an intriguing story she has woven together. As much as I hate to admit it, my views on love have slightly shifted.

It's one thing to be attracted to someone, strongly or otherwise. But being in love, to put it frankly, is not something I've personally experienced in any of my past relationships. It saddens me a little to think all my supposedly significant others have been no more than silly little trysts. As much as I despise romance in all of its sickeningly cliché grandeur, I find myself wishing someone would--no--could love me with every fiber of his being. More so, I wish I could succumb to romance in its basest sense.

Apart from that, I sorely long for an anchor. Life has merely a weak claim on me, and its grasp weakens with every passing hour. I lack purpose, and it's driving me insane to go about each day without a sense of direction. I don't even know where I'm really going with this entry.

Something is terribly out of balance with me as of late, and I've been pondering any and all of the possible solutions my ridiculously feeble, uncreative mind could come up with to tip myself back into equilibrium. I'm not making much progress. I don't know exactly how to put my predicament into words. It'd be easiest to say that I'm in a state of general disrepair. Nearly half a year has gone by sans tragedy, which I guess is a stroke of luck considering how prone those I hold dear tend to be to untimely death. Yet here I am, as numb as though another precious friend has testified to life's ephemeral nature.

My Run-In

LAAF was pretty bombdiggity. I got to meet and talk to a lot of a cappella VIPs. Including my personal almost-deity, Deke Sharon. I've been singing his arrangements for ages, and he's altogether amazing.

Bill Hare. Cool guy. I got to talk to him for a while too.

Enough about people way more important than I, though. I'm not sure what's up with me, but I haven't quite been myself for the past 2-3 days. It exhausted me to get out of bed and go about normally, so I simply didn't. I ran one errand in the morning, and didn't leave my room for the rest of the day. I didn't get bored, hungry, or even tired. I guess you could call it a form of meditation. Or maybe that's just my excuse for being inexcusably lazy. I don't know.

I did manage to drag myself to the shower this afternoon when I finally emerged from my cave. It's been more than a day. Now would probably be a good time for me to seek food. I'm still not hungry, but my brain is a little fuzzy.

I'm tired. I'm not really sure what of, but this whole façade of animation is really draining.