It's been a while... i guess i've been busy lately. I applied and am in the process of being accepted to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh for the graphic design program. Ideally i'd be going to school in boston, but any school is better than no school i guess. Alot has happened since the last time i wrote. Some bad things.... my first big fight with richard. It wasnt even a fight, it was me crying and him crying, and us making up. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone deserves second chances. At least thats the way i operate. So.... a good friend from work asked me today for some good new bands to listen to... and i decided to list a few.....
Bloc Party... their new cd comes out tomorrow and it is AMAZING... you can listen to it on myspace today if you simply cant wait to download it until tomorrow. www.myspace.com/blocparty
Silversun Pickups
The Rapture
SEVEN DAY WEEKEND!!!!!!!!! www.myspace.com/sevendayweekend4u ...... They're amazing... if you want to purchase the CD it's 10 bucks and all you have to do is ask, i'm the merch-girl.
Under The Influence of Giants
Tilly and the Wall
The Fratellis
The Sounds
anything by Alkaline Trio
Ani DiFranco
Gomez
Sufjan Stevens
.....um... theres some awesome stuff for now. I'm currently at the Seven Day Weekend band practice.. Justin just got a new bass drum so it is incredibly loud and i cant particularly concentrate... I'll write again tomorrow... hopefully i'll have something interesting to write....
oh... and "Waiting For The 718" is probably my new favorite Bloc Party song along with "Sunday."
Monday, February 5, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces...
Well, it has been a tid-bit since i last posted. I've been working and sleeping mostly. This week has had its ups and downs though, and its only WEDNESDAY... imagine that, more drAAAAmmmmAAAA. Lets start off with monday. Oh, that was a forsaken day, let me tell you. Monday marked my annual gynecologist(sp? i DID graduate from Apollo-Ridge... we can't spell.) exam. This, of course, is no fun for any woman, but it is especially awful for me being that my doctor is a MAN.... AND he is the identical match of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. I was laying there trying to imagine i was ANYWHERE else and i half expected him to say, "Hi-didilly-ho neighbor..." Needless to say it was a very strange 15 minutes. He told me to meet him in his office after the exam. In the office i got the unfortunate news that my ovaries suck...(they have since i was 14) and my chances of having kids went from one in a million to one in infinity AKA no little angie's walking around anywhere. I went home and showered for the third time in 24 hours and went directly to bed...(after talking to richard of course.)
But then there was TUESDAY! Oh thank god for tuesday. I went over to Richard's house at about 6:30. We hung out with his family in the kitchen for a while. Laughing at his cat's Mr. Schfincter and Dixie. Mr. Schfincter is the most evil looking thing i've ever seen. It was sitting above me on the stairs and it was piercing the back of my neck with its beety little devil eyes. We all kept waiting for it to pounce. Then there is Dixie. This cat is my favorite animal ever. It's sleepy and yellow and it loves me. It will cuddle up real close to me where ever i am. (This coming from the girl who isnt a very big fan of cats.) Richard's mom went to a meeting and he and i went up to his room to watch some tv. I'll spare the details, but he made me feel incredibly lucky. This kid is so amazing i dont even know how i landed him. He would put his arms around me and tell me that i was beautiful. My whole life i grew up feeling like i was the ugly duckling... i never really heard that i was beautiful from anyone, so when people would tell me i usually shrugged it off. When he tells me it gives me goosebumps because i see in his eyes that he means it. He means it, and i'm in disbelief. I want to know what he sees in me... I used to wonder what took me so long to tell him that i had feelings. I wondered what i was waiting for. Now i realize that i dont want to know what would happen if i told him earlier or if i told him later. I dont want to know if it would have been better or worse if i told him at a different time. All i know now is that the exact moment that i did was the exact moment that made everything end up the way it is. Everything happens for a reason, and i wouldnt take anything back for a second. Everyone makes mistakes, but without my mistakes, i wouldn't have him now, and thats all that matters to me now. Ha ha, i'm such a love-sick dork....
But then there was TUESDAY! Oh thank god for tuesday. I went over to Richard's house at about 6:30. We hung out with his family in the kitchen for a while. Laughing at his cat's Mr. Schfincter and Dixie. Mr. Schfincter is the most evil looking thing i've ever seen. It was sitting above me on the stairs and it was piercing the back of my neck with its beety little devil eyes. We all kept waiting for it to pounce. Then there is Dixie. This cat is my favorite animal ever. It's sleepy and yellow and it loves me. It will cuddle up real close to me where ever i am. (This coming from the girl who isnt a very big fan of cats.) Richard's mom went to a meeting and he and i went up to his room to watch some tv. I'll spare the details, but he made me feel incredibly lucky. This kid is so amazing i dont even know how i landed him. He would put his arms around me and tell me that i was beautiful. My whole life i grew up feeling like i was the ugly duckling... i never really heard that i was beautiful from anyone, so when people would tell me i usually shrugged it off. When he tells me it gives me goosebumps because i see in his eyes that he means it. He means it, and i'm in disbelief. I want to know what he sees in me... I used to wonder what took me so long to tell him that i had feelings. I wondered what i was waiting for. Now i realize that i dont want to know what would happen if i told him earlier or if i told him later. I dont want to know if it would have been better or worse if i told him at a different time. All i know now is that the exact moment that i did was the exact moment that made everything end up the way it is. Everything happens for a reason, and i wouldnt take anything back for a second. Everyone makes mistakes, but without my mistakes, i wouldn't have him now, and thats all that matters to me now. Ha ha, i'm such a love-sick dork....
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Seventy Times 7
I'm incredibly angst-filled today. I feel more like a teenager today than i ever have in my entire life. I just feel like nothing is going my way. The only thing i know i have for sure is the most amazing boyfriend in the entire world. I spent the night at his house last night... ( no frowning upon my lifestyle please... besides, he slept on the couch and i slept in his bed because hes a GENTLEMAN. ) He had hockey practice in the morning and he came home and woke me up with a kiss. I ate scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast with his family and then we went sledding at my house. I may be an "adult" but i will never stop loving flying down a hill at alarmingly fast speeds. (due to the WD-40 we spray on the sleds...) Any-who... back to the point. Richard is different than anyone i've ever known in my life, and that makes me feel like maybe being weird isnt so bad. He loves all of my imperfections. Today after the sledding adventure we went to Arby's and on the way i was talking about how i dont tell people alot of things about myself because i'm afraid that when people know certain secrets they won't like me anymore. I said that if i told him some things he would feel bad for me and i never wanted someone to be with me because they felt bad for me... i wanted someone to be with me because they loved me. There was a small silence and then he told me that he loved me and i didnt have to tell him my secrets if i didnt want to. He said that he would love me regardless of what they were. I've lived my life being a very closed-up person. As a child i was quiet and reserved. Sure i'd play with other kids and yell and cry and laugh, but alot of the time i would be quiet. I remember taking everything in. No matter where i was i felt a need to feel everything, i needed to explore as much as i could and find out as much as i could. I was a loner to the core, and that makes alot of people nervous. You know the typical high school loner, thats the kid who's gonna shoot up the school right? WRONG. Just because i dont like to talk to alot of people and i keep quiet does not mean that i am a ticking bomb, waiting to explode on everyone who called me fat or ugly. And believe me, there were alot of those people. I was the fat depressed girl. I was the ugly girl. I was the "GOTH GIRL." (Which pissed me off the most.. what the hell is so wrong with wearing black tshirts and jeans?!? I wasnt wearing BONDAGE PANTS or anything.) That was just the first three years of high school. My senior year i lost 60 pounds and started caring about the way i looked. Then i got, "She got a boob job." Or, "She's anorexic, she's bulimic." High school is so vicious. Those are supposed to be the best years of my life??? High school made me the way that i was. I wasnt a typical girl, i didnt like to gossip or start fights. Maybe if i would have been born at age 18 i wouldn't be such a closed-up person, but thats not the case. I never liked telling my secrets or letting people in. When my parents sold our house in September of my senior year and we became homeless because we didnt have anywhere to move, i only told a few people and everyone else was clueless. When my art teacher asked me why i didnt ask him for a letter of recommendation for art school i didnt tell him that it was because i was too busy fretting over whether or not i'd have a house to live in for christmas. I didnt tell him that I couldnt make a portfolio because i didnt have any of my art supplies. (they were in a box at my aunt's house, besides, i didnt have anywhere to make art anyways...) I told him i didnt feel like applying to school. When my grades slipped and i was crying all the time i didnt tell my teachers what was going on, i didnt tell them i was staying in another town with my step-grandmother and she was driving me to the bus stop every morning. I didnt tell anyone that sometimes i was so afraid that i'd get off the bus in the afternoon and no one would be there to pick me up. Where would i go? I couldn't go to my house because i didnt live there anymore. I would sleep half of the day away in school because i couldnt sleep in the strange beds i was in. I dont tell people anything... and having this amazing boyfriend scares me to death. I feel comfortable enough to tell him almost everything, and i'm vulnerable. For the first time in a LONG time i am vulnerable and i'm scared to death. I'm so scared that i've found this amazing thing and that after giving all of myself to someone i am going to lose it all. I'm terrified every day that this love is going to be taken away, and that is NOT fair. I want to feel this way for a long time. I know i shouldnt be living life in a constant state of paranoia, but its hard. I've become accustomed to being hurt, and to have someone treat me so good is a little strange. I've decided that i'm taking this chance. Forget worrying because its not worth it. I took a chance when i told him how i felt, and look how that turned out? We're together. I'm not going to worry about the ex-girlfriend because i'm the girlfriend, and he tells me i'm amazing. AMAZING. He see's me, and i love him. If nothing else, i know i'm sure about this, and that's honestly all i need...
sorry for the ranting....
sorry for the ranting....
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Bitches ain't Shit...
oh man... i dont know what to do... number one's always freak me out. Its the OCD, i just know it... i just hate the ( 1 ) in everything. Not to mention that the number one has everything to do with the word first, which sucks as well. I never know what to do first. How do i start something? I get panic-y ( sp?) and my palms get clamy. Starting a blog is so hard unless a bunch of people that you've known your whole life are the ones who are reading it... How do you just pick up and start writing what is going on without giving a back story on your whole life? I cant just start off with everything that is going on right now because anyone who gives enough shit to read this will be thinking, "What the hell is this girl talking about?!?" And i care way to much about everyone else to just start into something. So what SHOULD i say? I will probably post many "blogs" asking that question. Where should i start off? I guess (against my better judgement).... now, and i'll tie up any lose ends as they come along.
I like to think of blogs as my own personal book. Aparently my dad ( who in his infinite drunken wisdom) knows that one day i will be a writer. (this also comimg from the man who thinks that i have a third generation heart...) Unfortunately, i dont agree with him at all because i think i just ramble on and on with writing... alot like the way i talk. I get frazzled <----( probably my favorite word for this week.....) I dont know what to say, and i just start going of on some random rant. I'll do that alot, but hey... it keeps things interesting....
Well... i'd go on and write more random things but i'm a little tired, so i'll end this (gulp) first blog with an little selection from a book i'm reading at the moment....
" Finally, I approach the bed, over at the part where his face rests and the springs and coils connect the mattress to the couch, and i take my little fingers and carefully peel his eye open as if I were a police officer examining a corpse at the scene of a crime. At first, I expose just the white, but eventually the iris and pupil roll into view, and I in turn roll into his view, and he looks a little stunned, like this is not quite what he expected, like who is this stranger standing over his face, or like maybe he's been driving for a long time and he somehow has picked up the wrong hitchhiker.
And i say, Daddy, its me.
My dad does his imitation of Donald Duck for me and the other kids, and then he is gone..."
Elizabeth Wurtzel - 'Prozac Nation'
That little segment is so eerily related to my life that it scares me. I started reading this book about Elizabeth Wurtzel's battle with depression just randomly, but it has so much in common with parts of my life. I remember being tiny and my dad sleeping on a fold out bed at my grandma's while he and my mom were on a trial separation. I remember doing anything and everything i could to wake him up in the morning from peeling his eyelids open to pulling on his arm hair (haha...). My dad too did a wonderful imitation ( or at least i thought it was wonderful when i was 4) of Donald Duck for me and whoever else happens to be in the room, and then he left. I dont remember the exact circumstances of it all but i remember him leaving and not coming back for a long time. I didnt find out the reason why he left until i was about 14, but that's a story for another day... (ohh... cliffhanger, how DARING of me, lmao. i'll write more tomorrow.)
Ah... i almost forgot. The title of my blog is a Ben Fold's cover. Richard (the amazing boyfriend) made a crazy hilarious mix cd for me and "bitches ain't shit" was on it.
I like to think of blogs as my own personal book. Aparently my dad ( who in his infinite drunken wisdom) knows that one day i will be a writer. (this also comimg from the man who thinks that i have a third generation heart...) Unfortunately, i dont agree with him at all because i think i just ramble on and on with writing... alot like the way i talk. I get frazzled <----( probably my favorite word for this week.....) I dont know what to say, and i just start going of on some random rant. I'll do that alot, but hey... it keeps things interesting....
Well... i'd go on and write more random things but i'm a little tired, so i'll end this (gulp) first blog with an little selection from a book i'm reading at the moment....
" Finally, I approach the bed, over at the part where his face rests and the springs and coils connect the mattress to the couch, and i take my little fingers and carefully peel his eye open as if I were a police officer examining a corpse at the scene of a crime. At first, I expose just the white, but eventually the iris and pupil roll into view, and I in turn roll into his view, and he looks a little stunned, like this is not quite what he expected, like who is this stranger standing over his face, or like maybe he's been driving for a long time and he somehow has picked up the wrong hitchhiker.
And i say, Daddy, its me.
My dad does his imitation of Donald Duck for me and the other kids, and then he is gone..."
Elizabeth Wurtzel - 'Prozac Nation'
That little segment is so eerily related to my life that it scares me. I started reading this book about Elizabeth Wurtzel's battle with depression just randomly, but it has so much in common with parts of my life. I remember being tiny and my dad sleeping on a fold out bed at my grandma's while he and my mom were on a trial separation. I remember doing anything and everything i could to wake him up in the morning from peeling his eyelids open to pulling on his arm hair (haha...). My dad too did a wonderful imitation ( or at least i thought it was wonderful when i was 4) of Donald Duck for me and whoever else happens to be in the room, and then he left. I dont remember the exact circumstances of it all but i remember him leaving and not coming back for a long time. I didnt find out the reason why he left until i was about 14, but that's a story for another day... (ohh... cliffhanger, how DARING of me, lmao. i'll write more tomorrow.)
Ah... i almost forgot. The title of my blog is a Ben Fold's cover. Richard (the amazing boyfriend) made a crazy hilarious mix cd for me and "bitches ain't shit" was on it.
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