Is It Serious? I'm Afraid It Is

I realized how much I <3 Grease 2. And let's discuss how people think it's a horrible sequel. I beg to differ. I know that as a child I enjoyed it infinitely more than the original. Okay, for honesty's sake, in my tiny little heart I was in love with Maxwell Caulfield and thought he was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Prettier than Michelle Pfeiffer. And that's an accomplishment, cuz that bitch is hot. Still smokin. How old is she even? Too old to be that pretty. A little off-track here. So anyway, flash back to me as an itty bitty gay boy not realizing how much I wanted a C, O-O-L, R-I-D-E-R. I wanted to kick Stephanie Zinone off that motorcycle and straddle him myself! Okay, maybe my sexual imagination hadn't advanced that far yet. But in retrospect, if I had been more self-aware/mature/fucked-up, maybe those thoughts would have been running through my mind. And who could forget "I'll be your giiiirl for all seasons, all the year throuuugh" or "Re-pro-duction, Reproduuuuction" or "We're gonna rock, we're gonna roll, we're gonna bop, we're gonna bowl, we're gonna score score scooooore tonight!" CLASSIC.

Had this dream about Angelina and Brad last night. For some reason I was just a casual observer who happened to be hanging out in their house, which happened to be located on the street I grew up on as a child. Anyway, Angie was pissed off because someone who worked for her had betrayed her or something. She said she would kill them if they did it again. Brad said she wasn't serious. She assured him that she was. Meanwhile, I sat there in the Jolie-Pitt's kitchen watching all of this unfold. It was quite odd.


Also, this is not the first dream I've had about those two. Or being their friend. In another I just stopped by their townhouse in the city and watched TV with Angie while Brad hung out with the kids. I don't understand....do I have some deep-seeded desire to know extremely famous people? Do I subconsciously think that we would make great friends? Do I wish they were my parents? Someone tell me what this means!

You just don't love me
And I just don't care
Oh I never said
I would play fair

Something so perfect
And so rare
There's not a prayer
A prayer

So what can I do?

I am the only perfect choice
You've met your match
I've lost my voice

And when you're gone
It gets so cold
I swear I'm too young
To be this old
This old

So what do I do?

Oh I've been better
You want what's pure and you want what's right
But I'm forever
Just do the right thing for once
In your life
In your life

I've got a right to be this wrong
All of me aches and the best of me's gone
And all that I am is out
And laid bare
And laid bare

So what do I do?
So what do I do?

Oh I've been beggin
Oh you know what's pure and you know what's right
But I'm forever
Just do the right thing for once
In your life
In your life

So what do I do?

It's all I am
It's all I am
It's all I am
It's all I am

Oh I've been cheated
Covered in diamonds and covered in filth
But I'm still breathin
Oh please stick around
And I'll build you a world
I'll build you a world

Oh I've been strangled
Passed beyond sex
And cut down to size
My life just dangles
There's no context for once
In my life
In my life

So what do I do?
So what do I do?

I know that I'm just a lost girl
But please stick around
And I'll build you a world
I'll build you a world
I'll build you a world

[Witherspoon] told Elle magazine last month: “[My dad and uncle] taught me that in every relationship, the person least interested in maintaining it is going to dominate it, because they’ll never compromise.
“So you have to always maintain that position of least interest, and you’ll always control the relationship.”

....Which I feel oddly summarizes my approach to life. Unconsciously, of course.

For real, I need to be whipped into shape. It's getting ridiculous. No discipline. If I were straight (hahaha) I would totally enlist in the armed services. Well, maybe that's a little extreme. For real though, I'm basically scraping by doing as little as possible...I've done that for a while now. Well, let's not be too harsh, I've done really well in school. But I'm not exactly demanding a lot of myself. A great life is not just going to fall into my lap (although it's not like that never happens people!) but I shouldn't hold out on that one. Baby steps....I'll just focus on one thing at a time, can't let the weight of all things come crashing down on me.

Step #1: Get a job.

Oh Baby Jesus help me.

Addie: I need a second job.
Me: I need a first one.
Addie: Know of anyplace I could work?
Me: If I did, I wouldn't tell you. I need it more.

So I applied at American Eagle. God. Why is it that I think that's the only place in this town I can work? I realized when I turned in my application how just being in the shitty mall brightens my mood. It must be the smell of new things. Hopefully it works out. Shit, it's almost noon. wtf. I meant to crawl out of bed when I woke up at 9:30. But I fell back asleep. Now I have eye boogers. Gross. Bacon egg n cheese hot pocket, here I come.

PS - Never sign up for a tanning subscription if you don't have a steady income. Oh wait, that's common sense.

I'm sitting in Panera with Adecia. She's typing away on her paper like a good student. I'm staring out the window thinking of other nights like this (weather-wise). Wet and a bit chilly. Thinking of good memories. Living in Chicago with the electricity of something new floating through the air. The first times I visited Michael in the suburbs. It all seemed so perfect. Don't get me wrong, the present isn't a bad time either, but everything seems sweeter once it's over. There was an idealic quality to those times; I had finally met a guy who deemed me worthy of boyfriend status. (Not that the other ones had been good enough for me in the first place). I borrowed his Abercrombie-boy persona for a while. I was in a different place with a group of people that were entirely new to me. I was navigating the waters of being out of the closet...not that my mind often registered what that meant. I just do what I want to do, most of the time. Anyway, flash back to now. I feel like painting. I'll probably paint Hedwig, becuase I've wanted to for a while and maybe it will appease this fascination I have with drag queens. I don't want to be one. I just love them. I'm reading an amazing book, 'I Am Not Myself These Days' by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. It's a memoir of sorts about a particular time in the life of an alcoholic drag queen named Aquadisiac. Fabulous beyond words. And heart-warming and funny and sad to boot. Today I burst out laughing just as class was starting (I read this: "Two hours later I'm at approximately the level of drunk I was aiming for. Okay, so I may have gone a bit beyond. Okay, so I might have a slight problem standing. That's why God made walls.") and the room fell silent as everyone exchanged sideways glances, as if to say "who laughs out loud because of a book?" I do. And you will too because I know you'll run off and read it now if you haven't already. Well, I'm off. Time to hop on my vacuum and ride home.

And everything is fine, because even though I have a midterm I haven't studied for yet, I know I'll scrape by somehow and you never know when something good will happen. Hopefully that something good involves me getting paid....

I hate when Michael leaves me. We really are attached at the hip. Like sewn together. Like conjoined twins. And it feels like he gets ripped off of me when he goes. Sadness. That was so gross ew. Oh fooey.

Didn't mean to get so emo w/ these posts, damn.

I <3 the Fall. Except it's not here yet!!!! What the hell. It's October, hello God? Are you there, it's me, Margaret. Jesus H Christ on a popsicle stick! What kind of saying is that, anyway?

Of course. I want to be saved, as we all do. But is praying on the off-chance that God exists really praying? Probably not. If God exists, he knows what's in your heart. And he'd know that I was only praying at the last hour of my life in a feeble attempt to save myself, not really believing in his existence. So is my optimism, my blind faith that things will be okay, really any kind of belief in a higher power? No. They are not interchangable. And yet still I cannot bring myself to seek counsel with this higher power now; to pray. Why? Because I can't help but believe that prayer is simply wishful thinking addressed to a God we create in our minds or let others create for us. I guess I believe we do the best we can. Can we not do better than what we believe of ourselves? We can; but I think that means giving yourself over to something bigger. I just don't know what that is or how to do it.

Oh Courtney, I don't know how you clawed your way back from 2002 to 2007, but I'm glad you did! You look amazing.

Ew. Never ever. Gross.

Why in the hell do people wear socks with sandals? I mean, I've worn what might technically be called "bermudas" in the very recent past, so my glass house couldn't survive any thrown stones, but...they were cute. God, I hate the way people look in this town. Gotta get outta Dodge.



On a side note, I wish I could pause my school life, like I was freezing my account for a while so I can get back to it when it's more convenient (Although I wouldn't say it's inconvenient right now, just annoying).

I should probably address the fact that my titles never have anything to do with my posts, if you haven't noticed.

My Grandfather is visiting from California. He's a very conservative and formal old gentleman. In other words, I haven't got the slightest idea of what to say to the man. His plans for today included visiting a nearby army base to peruse the halls, see if it's changed, and maybe converse with the recently returned...brigade?...of soldiers from Iraq. He's very patriotic. So is my dad, actually. My Grandpa's basically exactly like my father, x10. They are the type of people who read the 9/11 commission report; who probably always vote Republican. There's nothing wrong with that, it just means that I have no kind of repertoire to strike up with my Grandpa.

My dad's easier to talk to. I just don't have serious conversations with him very often because I know he disapproves of my lifestyle. Not the gay; he's fine with the gay. Just that I stay up till all hours of the night and wake up late and have no job. Hell, I disapprove of my lifestyle. I just feel like I won't fit in at a lot of places I could maybe work. I need to feel comfortable...which probably means I'd have to work around mostly women; that's an issue right there. Well, that's not true. I've worked around men, done fairly manly things. Last summer I worked on my boyfriend Michael's parents' house and I loved it. It was fun. But I was already comfortable with his dad and everything. Okay, I'm making excuses. I could probably work wherever. But I know I couldn't do that and school and have a life.

I am a person who needs a ridiculous amount of downtime in addition to having an active social life (and by that I mean shooting the shit with my friends all the time, which is basically still downtime). But I really get creative and stimulated by the company of others; I feed off of their energy. Ew, I'm an emotional vampire. Also, I don't have very many original ideas, which makes me sad; everything is pulled from somewhere else. How post-modern of me. And I have trouble bringing myself to give my brain a workout. I can do mindless labor with pretty much no problem as long as there's mild stimulation. I guess I just operate on one level all the time. It's not very productive, I'll tell ya that. Maybe I just need more positive energy around me.

I like how this started out about my family and ended up being all about me.