Lost causes, advice and some wisdom.

I'll fight to the death to save a lost cause.

Of this, I'm quite sure.

It's a ridiculously bad flaw, and one that I'm fully aware of.

Yet, if push came to shove, I'd still do it.

Because I'm obviously broken and/or mentally deficient in other ways. Either way, I'm working on my very own lost cause at the moment. One that is sure to induce lots of metaphorical blood, maybe a little sweat and most assuredly tears of the very real variety.

My advice: never become involved with someone who is still in love with someone else.

It never ends well, and it would appear that it's rather an obvious situation. However, easy smiles and soft eyes can do a lot to dissuade even the strongest individual of the obvious.

And here's my follow up advice: never remain involved in that person's life, while continually fanning the flames of your own desires.

That always backfires. You will betray your own feelings, and most likely that person will pity you rather than sweep you off your feet.

It will be humiliating. There are no other terms for it. Trust my own judgement. Of course, if you continue to foster your own feelings - eternally waiting around for some sort of justification - then fine. Your willing (almost too willing) interest in their lives and wellbeing will most likely be interpreted as the dedication of a great friend.

Which is exactly what you wanted, right? No? Then at least you've not lost someone who obviously meant something to you in the first place.

That can be counted as a "win" in the eternal struggle between winning and losing.

So, at length - don't let your heart lead your head, but don't cut yourself off from the situation either. Just use a little caution and reason before you open yourself up to that certain-someone.

Learn from me. I'm a fountain of painfully-begotten knowledge.

(reposted on my livejournal as well)

Worship, harbouring enemies and nocturnal-people.

Worship me, people-who-waste-time-sleeping.

Damn right I'm talking to you. I didn't sleep a wink last night and I have gotten more done before 8 this morning than I have the rest of the week combined.

I got an entire paper out of the way for next week, I got four boxes and two crates packed, I showered and I shaved everything this morning. Not only did I get those menial tasks done, but I also found out I have an amazing ability to style myself when I've gotten no sleep. No joke. I look adorable today. And I was showered and dressed by 5.30 a.m., time-wasters.

I am practically above and beyond human.

I'm pretty much inhuman.

I'm like a Vampire, y'all.

Except, I get super queasy around blood, so keep that shit away from me. For real.

I've only had one more giant spider incident, and one pathetic little beetle (who was nothing after those other beasts).

I think I might be getting past the whole situation entirely. Except I'm still carrying around my Home Defender spray like a life vest, and my flashlight is permanently stashed my pocket at all times - you never know when a dark shadowy area might be harbouring the enemy. Oh, and the whole not-sleeping-thing of course. That's probably not going to work forever, but I'm totally going home tomorrow. It's just when I come back to finish out the semester that I have a problem. Seriously, I'm going to have to forcibly throw myself into attempting sleep. What a waste of time.

I've obviously learned that I'm nocturnal, or else I would not have gotten all this crap done. For real, people, society needs to make the world a little more nocturnal-people-friendly.

That way I can actually get shit done.

Parents, homesickness and suffocating love.

Home sweet home.

Right.

Well, I've made it home for the big superficially 'religious' Easter celebrations (i.e. a four day weekend woo!). I thought it'd at least take years, if ever, to get over the homesickness when I'm away. But you know what? I now feel claustrophobic at home. I know they don't mean to suffocate me, but parents are just always there when you're home.

They're like that piece of furniture that you're almost certain you had put outside to be picked up by the garbage man (even if they keep telling you the city doesn't take old furniture). Somehow, it's crept back into your living room with all the audacity of a tacky orange ottoman.

Not that you hate that ottoman. In fact, that particular ottoman reminds you of all your good childhood moments, and makes you feel safe and protected. But it really doesn't match anything you own anymore, and it can be such an eyesore - the way it looks in the big picture just doesn't suit your everyday needs anymore.

But maybe you could keep it around; revamp it with a new fabric - help it try to fit in, even if the style is so out of date that it's practically obsolete.

Yeah, it's sort of nice to have it around - I mean, it keeps you grounded. And that's a feeling that can be easily lost in a world where you're just another fresh (haggard) faced student in a sea of forty other similar faces. Sometimes you just need that old ottoman to remind you of your roots - and to remind you of just how far you've really come.

Suffocation doesn't sound so bad, not when you know it's suffocation by love.

Growing up, growing apart, and one best friend.

So this is going to be a sappy / depressing / disparaging post - and yes I know, it's terribly uncool - but I've never really been that concerned about it, so deal with it.

Well, I've come to realize that my (previous? ex? once?) best friend has sort of given up on me, or on us. Years of mocking other people, taking masses of ridiculously staged photographs and eating tons of junk food just couldn't save us from growing up and growing apart it seems. It's been this way for several months when I come to think of it, but at least several months ago we were still talking. Honestly, it's pretty ill-timed, since college is supposed to be the most awesome time of your life - or not, whatever.

Heck, I love my college - and I love what I'm going here for - but what good is all that when my once-upon-a-time best friend wants nothing to really do with me? Sure sure, I could just go and pick out a new one - maybe a slightly flashier one, with less mileage and a wicked wardrobe to borrow from. That'd be the easy way out of this situation. However, it's come to my attention that I'm not the easiest person to get along with. And she sort of accepted all the dramatic flaws and insensible opinions with little, if any, complaint. That's pretty hard to come by, I'd say.

I had tried to persuade her to leave our small-town-roots for awhile, to come see what the slightly-less-small-town life was like. To no avail, of course. She couldn't possibly leave her boyfriend or family (despite how infrequently they see each other, due to schedule conflicts) to move in with me and enjoy our last years of young-adulthood before we have to become real grown-ups. Of course not. How selfish I was, to think of pulling her away from a monotonous job (that she's never cared for) and a mainly-weekend schedule of seeing her boyfriend (even though they live together).

It was complete madness on my part. I see that now. Because, honestly, after expressing my explicit desire of having her here - things fell apart.

Blame me or expunge me, I'm still minus one dearly sarcastic best friend.

Lucky escapes, therapeutic-creeping and fat-free basking.

Holy crap. I just realized how glad I am that all those could-have-been relationship possibilities did not work out.

Seriously, I don't think I've ever realized how lucky I am that those did not work out. I came to this glorious realization while perusing those specifically-left-unnamed-persons' Facebook pages. And wow. They're complete morons. I really think I might have some mismanaged poor-taste-in-potential-choices issues. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. It appears I wasn't. Thank the gods that those potentialities either fizzled or migrated away. Because I'd be screwed in an uncomfortable way if they'd actually taken root, and had ended up fostering grossly ignorant illegitimate stupid infant attachment seedlings.

Even thinking of it makes me shudder. I was like this close (on several occasions) to being one half of an ugly (hairy, cancerous, 3-dimensional) mole on the face of global coupledom. For real, people.

I don't think I've ever realized just how reprehensible most of the guys my age are. I mean, honestly, what the hell guys? And wow, I really really don't know how to pick them. Or I do. If by "pick them" I refer to choosing the most dishonest, slovenly, two-faced future-alcoholics known to humankind. If I mean that, then damn, I'm good. Be jealous, y'all.

I think I cherish my singlehood much more now. And I think everyone should put aside their actual responsibilities for an hour once in awhile, and engage in a session of therapeutic-creeping. It is most definitely worth it.

Seriously, just look up those snotty bitches you hated in school/at work/etc, or those losers who dumped you - and just bask in how absolutely moronic they are. It will lift your spirits like no better-than-sex-cake ever has. And this way you won't gain an ounce.

You're welcome.

Relationships are really just ridiculous if you think about it. I mean, we all spend the first what - two months? - trying to be exactly what that special-somebody is looking for. Then we get comfortable and just give up trying at all. Awesome. What guy doesn't love his now hairy-legged girlfriend who no longer feels compelled to dress to impress? Or what girl doesn't want to be with her now paunch-stomached boyfriend who no long feels inhibited to hide his bodily functions in front of her?

Fairytale romance, y'all.

Mini-meltdowns, judgements and lessons learned

So I'm having a mini-meltdown - the first one in several weeks, which is probably a huge step forward for me - but man, can a few words really bring a girl down.

And this really teaches one about talking to their loved ones, for sure.

You know, I wasn't the most morally obligated teenager - so what? Who doesn't have regrets from that time in their lives? I have plenty. Plenty. And yes, I dressed a little risqué. My tops were low, and I was proud to show off what I had - who doesn't do that in high school? But you know what? I grew up. Ta-da. It happens, and for once I wish that I got some credit for doing so. I'm not running around practically falling out of my tops anymore, nor am I so desperate for attention - I'm just trying to live a life, my life. And for gods sake, I wish that my family would just get on board and stop bringing up the past. I am not that girl anymore, I'm not even a shadow of that girl.

I'm growing, I'm evolving - just like everyone else. So why is it that they can acknowledge everyone else's changes, but mine?

I know that this was kind of a ranting/pathetic/ridiculous post, but so be it. I'm a little emotionally unstable right now, thanks mom.

Lesson: Nobody should have the right to judge you based on the person you were years ago, the person you no longer resemble inside (and to some extent, outside).

And when they do - cry, get pissed and angry-blog. It's actually pretty relieving.