67 days...

We're in the middle-double-digits now till we hopefully end the Republican tyranny. And I'm not convinced. Right now, I'm watching Barack's acceptance speech on CNN, drinking a really nice glass of Merlot and thinking how much this sucks. I'm out there every day, working to try to elect someone I'm not sure I believe in yet. 

I mean, I have nothing against the guy. He probably can do the job, and do it well. Or at least better than the Bush double the GOP in all their wise wisdom put up this time around. His wife is awesome, his kids are adorable, his VP choice in Biden was/is impeccable. He's progressive, pro-choice, pro-ending the Iraq debacle, has a pretty solid healthcare policy. But still... I am not convinced.

Oy vey.

Why can't I just get over it? 

s'il vous plaît ne pas me détester

Here's the deal:

I am a hooker. Prostitute. Hoe. Slut. Whore. Jezebel. Skank. Call girl. All of the aforementioned names and more. And that doesn't even begin to paint the picture of what really went on (and could theoretically still be happening).

A few short weeks ago, I checked my bank balance at the neighborhood branch in the hopes of having enough money to pay for groceries. Guess the Gods weren't aligning in my favor because my balance was $-331.47. Yes, you read that correctly. Negative three hundred thirty one dollars and forty-seven cents. And this was after I deposited my meager paycheck that can be seen as nothing more than a pittance for those crazy or dumb or idealistic (probably a solid combination of the three) to actually work for a campaign. 

What's a girl to do? I left the bank in a furious rage and went home to weigh my options. I knew I needed money, and fast (Ramen noodles and PB&J sandwiches can only last so long). Plus, as always, there is/was bills to pay. I had two options, viable ones-at least. One thing you have to realize about me (if you haven't already) is that I'm too proud for my own good. I could never ask for money from friends or family. It would be weak and I'm better than that. That gave me the choice of either leaving GCI which has become my new campaign family or obtain an additional source of income. So I started scanning Craigslist for odd jobs and noticed a couple enticing ads under the most sexually explicit of categories. Most were in search of a mere place for said male to stick his dick in, and...as grotesque as this is/was... I was/am interested. I know... I have no semblance of self-worth and don't regard sex as something special. For me, at this point, it's merely going through the motions towards an obvious end. 

And... fuck... I answered one. Only one. It was looking for a girl to pamper, if I recall correctly, and offered a substantial donation for services rendered. Just what I needed, right? Something I'm good at and an easy way to land some cold hard cash. So I exchanged emails at first with the guy (let's call him Patrick) and he seemed articulate and overall legit. After some desperate soul-searching, I decided I had no other choice but to see him, and off it went. 

After leaving the GCI office one day, I took a cab (how delightfully decedent of me!) to his office with one mission: do the dead and land some much-needed dough. But the second I saw Patrick, I kind of melted. He was hot. Not like Johnny Depp, wanna fuck your brains out in the middle of Times Square with my grandmother watching hot... but in a more complex way. He seemed almost desperate for me to just give him a blowjob. It was adorable, but pathetic. The quintessential dichotomy needed in my book to be able to manipulate someone. And manipulate away, I did. 

I feel like I should probably say that I didn't mind giving him head. In fact, it was the first time in a long time that I felt powerful. In control. Desired. And we all know what a glutton I am for that sort of attention (or any attention, nowdays).

So a few days later, I text him and offer up a more lucrative offer. He accepts. Same sort of situation, except this time Patrick took me out for drinks at a pretty swank bar. Nice of him. But... I guess that's when the trouble started. We started talking. Like really talking about our families and pasts. Things became real. He has a kid, a wife, a perfect upper-class life. And I don't. Nor is/was there a place for me in his, I guess.

Anyway, I got an email from him today that it's over. I guess that's ok. Except that in the email, he referred to me as damaged. I'm not. I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing to myself, literally selling myself. 

And while I'm a little peeved at Patrick for not having the balls to cut it off face to face so I could see the crinkle in his eyes as he smiles in the most genuine of ways, or at least via phone call so I could hear his bell-like voice... I'll be ok. 

I'm a tough kid.

PLUS...

The way I figure, there's not much left worth selling.

And, I know you're going to read this and freak out. How could I do this? How could I let this happen to me? In truth, I always knew it would someday. It's the ultimate FUCK YOU to my past life, the one I've been running from since birth. 

Don't judge. You know you're not that shocked. And if you were me, you'd be doing the same things.

staplegunned

I went down the shore yesterday with mi madre. Girl time, much needed. An escape from living with a boy who's recently contracted a bad case of the teenager (I hear it's going around nowdays). It was lovely. I could very easily be a beach bum. 

Except **somehow** my tanning oil got swapped with baby oil. If this has ever happened to you, you know how much it sucks. Because instead of laying out for four hours and ending up a plesant shade of bronze, I look like a lobster. 

So not sexy.

still so glad

I'm back in the realm of completeness, while not quite sure what my next move is. But that's ok. It will all be ok, I'm sure. It always is. It has to be. How horrible would life be if we, as humanity, didn't at least have that little glimmer of hope of a better tomorrow to hold on to... regardless of how fleeting it may seem? There would be no reason not to stick a gun in your mouth and end it right now.

And, truth be told, suicide is not as sexy as it seems... regardless of how psuedo-Plath we all seem.

Speaking of the Goddess, Ana and Mia have made a triumphant return into my life. I love that I finally have that normalcy, the control I've been yearning for of seeing them every second of every hour of every day. 

I shan't fail them. I can't do that again. 

dashed to bits on the reef

I feel lost. I used to be addicted to the spiraling out of control that had become my life. I was 18 and invincible. Punch drunk on nothing more than teenage beauty and an unhealthy obsession with The Virgin Suicides. But now. Now, I feel as if the spiraling is no longer intoxicating. Or... maybe it still is. But it's a different intoxicating. If we're still working with the alcohol metaphor, I've moved beyond a few Long Islands to throwing back 40oz beers with no abandon and drinking cheap vodka from the bottle, only to have to ungracefully empty my stomach contents into the nearest bin. 

Or, if that doesn't work for you.. try this: I'm perpetually trapped in a game of Chutes and Ladders, except I'm just going down the chutes. Sliding down and down and down and when I feel like I can't get any lower, I roll the dice and hit another chute. No rewards this time, Hasbro, just consequences. 

I'm completely vacant. This isn't the first time I've been this way, though. Around the spring of my freshman year, I woke up one day and just wasn't. I was a shell, merely going through the motions and doing the mere minimum to get by. Now, that's basically where I am, except that the motions are much more violent. It's live hard, play harder to the ninth degree. I don't want to make it seem like I'm unhappy, because I'm tragically content with causing my eventual demise. But, I'm recognizing now that what I'm doing is not even close to what can be seen as acceptable behavior for an adult.

Maybe I just don't care. Or maybe I do, but I'm in too deep and can't even begin to climb out. But, I think the real question is... 

even if I could get out of this, would I?

Methinks not.

I enjoy being reckless. I relish in being able to make some not-so-wise decisions. Do I know what I'm doing is not exactly legit? Of course. Do I care, kind of. Am I going to change? No. I'm a complete creature of habit. I'm no longer 18 and invincible. I'm twenty-something and pretty damn shattered. 

Maybe it's time to sweep up the wreckage and begin fresh.

Or not.

I don't know.

Whatever. 

Fuck it all.

recapture

I can't sleep. I feel like I'm dying. I know I say this at an alarmingly frequent rate, but I'm unaware of an alternative way to verbalize how I feel. But, for the sake of clarity, I shall try. 

Head- hurts. Aches. I've taken enough Advil and Codine over the past 24 hours that I shouldn't be feeling anything, but I still do. 

And I'm stressed. Work is a bitch and I've decided the commute sucks so I have to find a place in the city. Preferably Manhattan but if I can't find anything reasonably nice, I'm going to look in Brooklyn. Truth be told, commuting from Brooklyn will be the same time-wise but so much less stressful. I just need to get the Hell out of my house. It's just really weird living at home. I'm not around enough to appreciate my family so it's creating a lot of unnessasary tension that I just don't feel like having to put up with. I mean, it's not like I'm avoiding them. I leave the house by 630am and I don't get home till usually around 9 or 10pm and by that point, all I want to do is have a shower and collapse into bed. 

Work isn't a big as a bitch as I make it seem though.  The people, for the most part are pretty rediculous. Just this one girl, A, I don't know about yet. I can't decide if she's just a snob to everyone or what. But it's ok, only disliking one person out of 60 or 70 isn't too bad, I don't think. As the cliche goes, we're one big happy family. One of the directors, L, is having a party at her apartment on Saturday night. I'm excited to hang out with everyone somewhere other than Ginger House. I mean, it's fun that we all go out after work but we really haven't been anywhere other than the office, the roof and Ginger. And  even then, the director's usually don't come out because they're still finishing up things for the nightcrawlers. So I guess it'll be fun to hang with them, because no one really knows them that well, especially since we have a bunch of new directors. 

Payday tomorrow! Finally. I need to pay my credit card bill. They tend to appreciate that being paid off, no?

a list (also known as i don't care enough to actually write)

Need to Buy-

Tequila

Lime

Diet Coke

Oranges

Hummus (preferably red pepper or 40 spice)

Paper Towels

Laundry Soap

Cigarettes

Conditioner

Irritants-

Father (obsessing, refuses to accept my autonomy)

Grandmother (dying...again)

Contacts keep falling out

Brother being suspiciously nice

Hair not working (maybe haircut time?)

Losing power for six hours today 

Michael (not being here)

and then the collapse...

Today wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The actual job today was not so hot, but I saw my virtual twin again and we went out after work (as per what is slowly becoming the norm...). 

As for my youthful indescresions of evening's past, that's all they were. No need to dwell on what I did. And to be honest, I don't even care. I did what I wanted and I'm damn pleased with myself. So put that by your dick and suck it. As for two members of the scrappy group known as GCI NYC '08, one aparently quit midday today and the other is up to his usual antics. So I guess all is good.

I feel so creatively vapid right now. Seriously, I'm listening to Miley Cyrus right now and it sucks. ((Is it bad that I  ADORE her song "7 things"?)) But I'm too blah to change it. And I can't write. Or read, for that matter. 

I did however, start a piece the other day. I'm not sure where I'm heading with it just yet, but I think it has the potential to evolve into something of substance. But I'm not sure.

All I want to do is sleep.

such a whore...

I started a new job with the DNC in the city. I like it, I guess. The work is a bitch, as is all campaign work, but the people are amazing. So amazing that I did the Lilith thing and made out with two of them at a bar we go to after work then went back to a different guy's place (met him at the bar, don't work with him). Yup. Whoops.

The thing is... I don't think it matters. I had fun. And I'm allowed to be young and dumb and reckless and all of those things EVERYONE says I'm too mature to be at the fine old age of 20.

And it kind of sucks because Florida Michael and I are sort of back together. But I also like both of the coworkers I made out with. One of them, I think, was a drunk make out on his part because I saw him the next day and he didnt even awknoledge me. But I haven't seen the other yet. And I think both are working tomorrow. So I guess we'll see.

I'm not going back to Hood, I decided. I'm taking the semester off to apply to other schools. I'm probably going to end up at NYU or the New School or worst comes to worst Montclair State or Slutgers. I'm kind of over the Western Maryland thing...

i suck

I'm not doing ROTC. I haven't signed anything yet, so it's technically still legit if I back out now. 

Now for my rationale:
-I really enjoy exercising my right to free speech, in all forms. It wouldn't be right for me to wear a uniform and then go about bad-mouthing the President.
-I also really enjoy being girly, partying, smoking and pink glitter nailpolish. All of which, I believe the Army frowns upon. 
-I don't like to commit to things... I change my plans constantly. Always have. Right now, I want to do military intel... but who's to say six weeks from now (when it would be too late) that I'd still want to do intel. I can't commit to something so profound without being certain. And I'm not.

I think it really comes down to the fact that I don't feel right about doing ROTC when I'm ambilivent about it. I'd be taking the spot of someone who has wanted this their entire life, and right now.. that's not me.

So... yeah.

I also got a new tattoo... it looks gross now because it's peeling but when it stops, I'll put up pics. 

if i somehow get prevented from joining rotc...

my other options right now are:

-moving in with michael in daytona beach and eventually marrying him,

-move to be'er sheba in israel with omri and marry him,

-live in san francisco & paint/write/be high as a fucking kite,

-live in dc & paint/write/be high as a fucking kite,

none of which would be too horrible. i love michael. i love omri. i'd marry either in a heartbeat. i could very easily live in dc or sanfran and just do my thing. but i'm not really prepared to give up something i've wanted my entire life because two concieted fuckheads want me to subscribe to their plan instead of my own...

migranes suck

I'm pretty sure all the aggrivation my parents are giving me over doing ROTC is making me physically sick. I passed out running this morning and now I'm dizzy and migraney and cant keep anything down. It's just another way for them to try to sabotague me. Assholes. Whatever. They can't stop me from doing this. I've already told the cadre to disregard anything from either of them sent on my behalf. They have no legal power over me and I'm not going to let them fuck with my life anymore.

That being said, my dad is completly blowing this out of proportion. Father's Day is Sunday and he said straight up he doesn't want me there. I mean REALLY dude... that's just not cool. And I don't want to leave for LTC with him pissed at me, but if that's the case then so be it.

where i stand

One of my best friends, Christine, and I got an apartment off campus. Hood said I could still live on campus, but frankly, after all of this drama I'm kind of done with it. It'll be good for me to live off campus. And I'm still going to be around campus enough... I'm taking 18 credits, doing ROTC and working for Institutional Research, plus maybe getting a research position with a professor. So it's not like I won't be seeing my friends... because I clearly will. And the apartment is really cute, it has this amazing exposed brick in the master bedroom (my room!), all new stainless steel appliances and a gorgeous balcony where we can put flowers and such. Yay. 

I leave for Ft. Knox in 20 days. I'm nervous. I'm actually more nervous for my DoDMERB physical on Friday than LTC. I'm just really scared of doctors... I've never had good experiences with them and I work myself into a tiff before seeing them and it just makes the whole situation so much more stressful than it needs to be. I'm thinking of asking my Mom to come with me and hold my hand. I know... I'm freaking 20 and should be able to go to the doctor alone, but it's just one of those things I like to have someone there for. 

Speaking of doctors, that's where I was earlier. I woke up not being able to breathe. Major panic attack. The breathing thing is really good, you know? I think it was probably the change in weather (we've gone from 60 degrees to 94 degrees in two days...grr) that messed me up. So they drew some blood and determined that I'm just stressed. Which , truth in advertising, I am. But they also want me not to run or train or anything till Tuesday. Yeah, that's not going to happen. Running is the only thing that really de-stresses me. There's nothing like waking up before the sun and being the only one on the road. It's become so automatic for me, like brushing my teeth. I don't think about it in the morning, I just do it. There's no question about it in my mind.

Michael and I talked last night. I think he and I are gonna be ok. Right now, we're good as just friends. We're both ok with that, even though we're both still madly in love. He's not thrilled that I'm doing ROTC, only because he doesn't want me to see war. But I want to be there, and he respects that. I'm trying to go down to Florida when he's back on leave in August, I just need to find a job in Frederick first, off campus and reasonably close to the apartment. OMG YAY. I just realized that now I have the apartment, it's going to be so much easier to have him over when he's in DC. Yayyyy. I really care about him. Michael's my first real love and I don't think you ever get over that. I don't think you're supposed to, either. Nor do I want to. Last night, before we hung up, we were talking about the last time we spent the day together. It was so cliche, but it was amazing. We went to this little park about a mile from his house with a blanket and just lay out talking. It was so perfect. Anyway, last night Michael said that was the happiest he's ever been in his whole life. It's just those things that make me love him even more...

I still haven't gotten my tattoo. At this point, with only 20 days, I don't think it's smart to get, unless I go tomorrow or Monday after work because of the healing time. But I have the perfect dragonfly I want so we're all set. 

never give up EVER

Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.

-- Lance Armstrong 

it's starting to rain a little bit outside...

So I might be getting kicked out of Hood housing. I just got a letter in the mail saying basically how when they went in to clear out the room after I left, they found a lot of empty liquor bottles and some pot with papers. FUCK. Because of this, they have no choice but to report me to Campus Security and the Dean of Students and they're gonna decide if I can remain on campus. 

I'm really nervous. I know I messed up big. Last semester, or basically all of last year, I was in a really bad mental place. I was sleeping around, drinking every night and smoking pot every chance I could get. I was dating people I shouldn't have been and doing a lot of other really bad things. I think it says a lot that I am trying to change, and have made huge changes in the right direction by joining ROTC. While I'm in the program, I'm not going to be able to drink or use drugs for fear of expulsion. I've also made the decision to live, not on my own where I know I'd be tempted to keep doing exactly what I was doing, but with a girl who is very straight edge and doesn't allow me to do any sort of drug. I've also finally realized that I don't need to sleep around... I'm pretty enough to make people have to work for it. I'm worth so much more than what I'd been doing to myself...

I think... what I might just do... is call the Dean first thing Tuesday and explain myself. I will offer to be drug tested randomly for the entire year, at cost to myself, as well as speak with the counseler in the Wellness Center about my drug use and other issues and attend NA, AA meetings. I'll seriously do anything for them to allow me to live on campus next year. 

Not to imagine how freaked out my parents would be if they kicked me off campus. I'm pretty sure they'd kill me. They don't need me aggrivating them any further. They're already freaking out epicly over ROTC. Oh.. here's a fun fact: the night before my Bat Mitzvah in seventh grade, my father beat the shit out of my mom. Aparently, while I was at my final dress rehersal of my service, she didn't fall down the stairs, she fell into my father's fists. Twelve times. This lovely fact was just shared with me earlier... I really needed to know that. Thanks guys. So now not only do I have the guilt and embarasment of being physically and mentally abused by both parents for 18 years, I know that I share those feelings with my mother. 

35 days till I leave for Ft. Knox... that's the only thought keeping me going right now. Otherwise, I think I'd be in a much worse place. And that's pretty hard to imagine.

what needs to happen in the next 40 days...

I leave for LTC at Ft.Knox exactly 40 days from now... I'm scared shitless. Not of the whole joining the army thing, but of the being ready thing. I'm scared I can't cut it. I'm in the best shape of my life, but I know it's not enough to set myself apart from the crowd. And that sucks. I just am going to have to kick my ass till I leave.

I also need to get my other tattoo before I leave. Preferably over the next few days... I want it to be at least on the way to being healed when I get down there. And I'm not sure how long I'm going to need to sit for it so the sooner I get it done, the better. I'm getting the dragonfly with QMNMD as the body and the recovery symbol in the wings with greyscale flames around the symbol. I'm stoked. I'm thinking its going to go between my sholderblades so it will only be visable when I want it to be. But it means a lot to me so I'm ok with it showing.

My grades from this semester weren't too hot. Actually, they sucked. I pulled a C in American Novel. I mean, that's to be expected. I didn't put in any work in the course, except for what I absolutely had to and I hardly went. Bio was a D+ which is the highest I think I've ever gotten in a lab science. Pathetic, no? I guess it just reaffirms that science isn't my thing. I managed to pull As in Polisci Methods and 9/11 Politics. That's to be expected though, methodology makes sense to me and so does terrorism/militaristic studies. Foreign Policy ended up to be a B-, which isn't horrible but still is nowhere near where I should be in a class like that. Oh well. Everyone messes up once and a while. I just have to make sure to keep academics as my first priority next semester. 

The parents are still not on board with ROTC. Mom is less opposed, I think. I told her I'm not making my decision with the contract till a few weeks after LTC. I know she's scared but still. My dad is absolutely freaked out. Oh well. I never asked for their support... 

non- photo blue

Here's the deal-

*I joined Army ROTC. Yup, chica's gone hooah. I'm not doing it to spite anyone and I realize the commitment. I realize that I could be sent to fight in Iraq (a conflict I don't really agree with at all) and that not going, if ordered, is NOT on option. I realize it's going to be the hardest thing I have yet to go through. But, despite all of that, I still am doing it. It's a great opportunity for me, not only to have to rest of college paid for, but to learn leadership skills that will carry me through life. But more importantly, it's a chance for me to be part of something so much bigger than myself. It's cool if you don't agree with me doing this, I never asked you to support me. Just realize, this is the first decision in a really long time that I'm really proud of.

*I learned a lot about myself this semester. I'm not perfect. I'm not as tough as I'd like to be... but I'm also not as broken as everyone thinks I am. And I'm going to be ok, I swear.

*You asked me a while back if I believed in happiness and I told you no. I lied. I really do believe in happiness, just not one found through external means. I'm gonna be happy one day, but I'm going to be happy on my own terms. You're welcome to join me... but it's ok if you don't. I'm still never going to forget you.

Sooo... that's the deal. I leave for Leader's Training Camp (basically ROTC basic training) on 30 June and I'm there till 27 July. Find me before or after... or I'll just see you kiddies in August

fucking finals week

i haven't slept more than 20 minutes total since monday afternoon. it is now friday morning and i am finishing my last paper of the semester. hopefully it will be done by 4am so i can go to my room and pack because i'm leaving here at 830am for nj. thank god my friend is driving so i can pass out the whole fucking way back.

i'm so fucking exhausted, it actually hurts.

freefallin'

Je ne peux pas respirer. Je pense que je peut mourir en fait ce soir. Vous m'avez fait cette façon et pourtant vous refusez même de reconnaître que vous avez fait. Vous baiser. Je ne vous veux pas ici.

Et quand je meurs, vous ce sera avec le sang sur vos mains cette fois environ.

catastrophe waitress

My friend thought this might be a good exercise... since I'm working on the whole figuring myself out thing. Anyway, allez.

((what I can say with some confidence I am))
female
20
a perpetual student
somewhat literate
liberal
searching
intense
fairly extroverted
viciously jealous
cynical as all bloody hell
hopelessly romantic
vain
a holder of grudges
loud
bad at all things relating to science and math
fluent in French, Hebrew and Russian
a decent writer
extremely afraid of being alone
petty
questioning everything that I once saw as the absolute truth
not in control but not out of control
tragically commonplace

((what I can say with some confidence that I am not))
in love with you
in love at all
forgetful
late
pregnant
selfless
immature
complacent with things as they are
a victim
going to back down
closed-minded
dwelling on your mistake
confident about anything, academia-related or otherwise
as messed up as I'd like to think I am
wasting time worrying about you

Yup. I think that's it.