early morning wandering

SO I can’t fall asleep till I write this. It’ll just nag me until it escapes into the world that is the internet.
Emotionally, anything that bothers me I’m never going to tell you when it actually bothers me. Last night I seriously just didn’t want to go home and be myself and cry myself to sleep again, because of some social disturbance that I couldn’t rectify by the sheer power that is Z. So I went to my friend’s house, but I couldn’t talk to him about it. Because 1) he’s not the problem, so he’s not the answer. 2) He probably won’t care enough to help me. So I just repressed it and tried to cheer myself up.
But I don’t tell people anything really. Does anyone? Why not? I’m sure almost all our problems could easily be resolved if we could just accept people and understand where they’re coming from. But no one tells anyone anything, it’s all guess work and life shouldn’t really be trial and error. It should be peaceful and full of self contentedness. It’s like we’re working against each other subconsciously.
Maybe I am just a whore and lack the emotional depth to form any intellectual relationship with people. I mean, that’s why the people I would like to be friends with won’t allow that to happen, because they can see through the pretentious mask that is Diva. But I’m beginning to doubt the mask concept that is the Diva. Maybe I am more like her than I’m willing to accept. My Halloween costume is a slutty school girl where midriff is bare and the skirt doesn’t even come down to mid thigh. Let’s not even get into how much of my bra we can see. But here’s the werid thing. I’m totally comfortable with it. I have a wonderful body and I feel totally comfortable being exposed in public. But it’s so frowned upon it scares me. I mean if you know me then you know that this is a wow thing, not like “Oh she is slut, so this is like her uniform when she’s working the room”. I doubt my attractiveness because I’m always by myself and have yet to be kidnapped. And it’s not like it would be hard. I weigh nothing. No muscle to speak of. And nobody is going to save me. Lol
Maybe that’s what bothers me the most, because no matter what I do no one gives a shit about me, but I find myself pleasing people and flattering their egos. All my relationships are like that, except for two. And that’s only because we’re so alike our problems don’t get in the way of our relationship. Probably because I didn’t bother tell people the truth anymore. Even more recently I don’t care who knows my secrets now. Being honest is relieving, yet discouraging. I’m setting up walls and keeping people at a sexual distance. It’s not even satisfying anymore. I haven’t been turned on since I left for Trinidad. No interest what so ever. Funny, all that the people that used to act like they wanted to get to know me, now don’t bother because there’s no sex there. But I’m not satisfied because I didn’t get to delve into their minds and their personal lives and live vicariously through them.
And there is one guy who could possibly get through to me and show me how none of this is true. I’ve got a wicked personality, an attitude to be reckoned with, and an exotic beauty that is unmatched. But there’s no conviction there sweeties. Not one iota.

Maybe I don't know who I am anymore, not because I'm confused or lost, but I simply don't care really. Interesting.

The Changelings

“It’s happening again.”
“Fuck.” Luci reached for the syringe to administer the glamour. The new girl was up to six shots a day, twice the normal amount.
“No I don’t want an injection!” Bianca cried out. “I can’t stand how it feels.”
Gabriel, Julian, and Marcus watched as Luci wrestled with the young girl. “We’re out of pills. Either you take this or you change. God damn it! Help you bastards.”
Gabriel laughed. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”
The sight was ridiculous. Lucinda barely weighed anything compared to the tall, muscular girl beneath her. She’d pinned her down onto the pavement behind the Razor Bubble dance club, but couldn’t release Bianca’s hands for fear she’d knock her over. And the boys did nothing but watch and laugh.
“Pig headed sons of bitches.” Growled Lucinda. “Stay still, damn it!”
“No! I’ll change then! Don’t stick me with that fucking needle!” With a buck of her hips she sent Lucinda flying backwards against the wall. She ducked behind a dumpster, howling as the change took her.
“Where…the fuck…did you find her?” Lucinda gasped. Blood slowly trickling down her neck into her jacket. She took her scarf to stop the bleeding. “She’s like a wild animal.”
“She’s no worse than you were you’re first change.” Marcus chuckled. “ Then again, you were a hell lot easier to restrain.”
“But restraining the beast,” She gestured to Bianca, “would just look straight up questionable, wouldn’t it?”
Marcus sighed with dismay. “You know how it would look, Luci.”
“Hmph.”
In the corner by the dumpster, Bianca was panting. Without the glamour to suppress the change, or the pills to numb it, it was spreading through her like a virus on crack. She’s seen the others change, looking like angels dipped in black, grey and gold paint with wings that stretched on for days, and the twins, Lucinda and Julian had tails. A tail! But Bianca had never changed. She didn’t know what to expect.
“I don’t hear any bones popping.” Julian noted. “Or anymore screams, either.”
“Come out Bianca.” Marcus called. She peeked around the corner, to see the boys had turned their backs and Lucinda stood waiting with a dress. That’s right, she thought, when they changed their clothes no longer fit.
“Do you think that if we changed too, it would make her more comfortable?” Asked Lucinda softly. Changing into their other form was one thing, changing back was hell on earth. But Marcus shook his head.
Bianca took a cautious step forward into the dim street lamp and waited for them to gasp in horror. Her eyes had been closed through the entire change, and when she heard nothing, no comment, no awe, no gasp, she looked down to see her leg was exactly the same.
“Marcus…?” Lucinda cocked her head to the side. “We have a problem with the beast.”

The Angel with an assault rifle

I think of my role models at times like this.
Lady Gaga (a questionable but still very relevant role model)
Poppy Z. Brite (because she's morbid as muffins)
Russel Brand (because he's weird as mutant muffins)

Why is it my role models are people I've never met? And more importantly people who either a) are going through a wonky phase and will normal out eventually or b) the biggest attention whores in the history of pop culture?

I don't know. At 1am my brain begins to wander. Grand Total of Friends for the summer? 0.
And I bitch and moan about this a lot. Probably more than I actually need to, but when I think about it, there's only three people I can actually enjoy the company of and I am down right terrified of having to lie to someone to get away from them.

The simple equation still stands to be proven wrong: my liking someone > someone liking me.
Perhaps it's the mirror I broke freshman year, or the dynamic change from drama tease to silent psycho. But don't let the internet be your guide here.

No. The tone you read this with will most likely come across as highly negative. It isn't. It's indifferent. You see, me and emotions don't really get along. Must be these soulless black eyes, mmm yummy. Why this topic for a post tonight?

Tonight on the news, there was a report about a study where women and stress are bad together. Oh yes. Very bad. Stress in itself is bad. But women have so much more to deal with besides the recession and children. It's hard carrying a uterus. TO solve stress, simply drink red wine (but not too much), exercise, and be social. People who are social live longer. Which makes sense, because generally things that bring pleasure into your life aren't causing stress, stress kills, therefore pleasure makes you live longer. I drink red wine. I exercise. But I'm not social. Not if you actually know me. I'm picky, and shallow, and a bitch. But if you're intelligent, good looking and tolerate my weirdness (and give me cookies) I take it upon myself to be your guardian angel.

Do I have an angel? No.
Do I want an angel? Maybe.
Do I need an angel? Yes. I'm simply a hazard to the world if left to my own devices.

Deep down in the place of my soul where wishes blossom, I hope that this De Anza thing will bring with it a new armada of interesting people worthy of calling friend. I'm incredibly happy all my classes are in the evening though. I work so much better at night.

Lashing out like a cat on fire

I don't like to talk to people about how and what i'm feeling. Usually I just lash out at anyone who comes close enough and fuck up that friendship, only to return ten minutes later to apologize. /sigh will I ever learn?

Haven't talked to anyone really since I got back. Except 4 people I consider essential to my existence. I could make more friends. That's not hard. But keeping them...I tend to lose interest within a few hours? Days? I'm running out of distractions to help time pass and I don't even know what I'm running from. My past maybe? But I don't even remember that. It seems like some far off dream, even though it was only a few months. Maybe I'm blinded by jealousy. That might be it. And I never really understood how it comes up and how to kill it. Is it fear? Or maybe, just maybe I'm actually normal and there's nothing wrong with me just that I want something to be.

Before the trip, I was in love with the thought of my death. Like it was constantly on my mind, thinking about open the car door and sliding out on to the pavement, going for a late night drive and slamming into a wall or off a hill side. And I'm small so pretty much anything will kill me. And the reason none of that came to be? Simply the fear of not having anyone come to my funeral. Because death by itself is pretty lonely, but if no one came in my last few minutes above ground? Well then I've been dead a very long time. And who would make sure the right people knew about my death? What about Prava and Jeremy, and maybe even Jacob? See most of friends don't even know who they are.

After the trip, I stopped caring about my death, and the lack of actual friends I had and Kayleena and Lawrence helped with that I guess. But Kay's gone, Lawrence is leaving, and now my father is leaving for Trinidad soon. I don't remember exactly what I was trying achieve here. By one, coming back to California in the first place, and two being Zakkarrii. But I don't think I'm that person anymore. The drama queen, attention whore, bad Lady Gaga remake. Nope. Don't see any traces of that.

Maybe my biggest fear is slipping back into that person. It feels like standing in the dark, with a door to the past just ajar and tempting. I could go back to what I know. Or I could keep going further into the dark and finding out the presently unknown.

Or I could sit and smoke and waste more time than ever. Lol. Decisions, decisions.

Learning the trade.

SO I didn't go the fashion show. I was yelled at on first day in Trinidad, because people didn't collaborate together to make something work. But it's okay. I'm going to look up pictures and see that it's not as big as John Galliano's shows and feel better. Ash will have a good time. I probably won't see her for while I'm here. I probably won't see Ravi again, but that's how it's supposed to be. I'm too young for him and he's got a life. I just want to go out and party and drink till I can't stand up straight. LIke i did last summer....I just want to sleep. July 17th won't come soon enough. Like everything that's supposed to be good in my life, it's just a disappointment. I wish I brought my medication so I wouldn't have to feel anything.

Or better yet. That I had just waited to come down with my mom. Shame though, he was incredibly lovely to be around.


Jesse's just leading me on with coming here. So why am I so disappointed? MAybe this is what I get for not going to SFSU, for being the best that I could be. Day one of a fucked up month and a half complete.

Did I mention that I can't smoke because all the doors are locked with one pound heavy weights? Fun. My mood regulators are out.

Departure Part 1 (San Jose to LAX)

Sitting at the terminal an hour prior to boarding, I've begun to wonder. What made facebook popular? There's hardly a thing about it that would cause the entire population of computer consumers to freak out if it crashed, disappeared, died. It doesn't even allow for personality to shine through. It's a one size fits all type of of gig, and you know what's curious? If people actually stopped to think about it, they would see that they are exercising their herd mentality.

And who am I to sit on your fragile little dreams of individuality? Why, I'm the person who joins these social networking sites at a year before you even know it exists. Maybe that's why I have such a negative perspective. The second it becomes of remote interest to the general public I want out. It loses the value that made me fall in love with it in the first place.

I need a smoke before they send me up to the air. Ick. Designated smoking area? Airports are not smoker friendly.

The End of an Era

You know, this graduating business seems like tricky business. All the emotions tied to it, you'd think that I would feel something. But I don't. I've come to terms with my good byes, my disappointments, my brilliance radiating on the blessed few. It's over, let's move on. I'm finished.

But the thing that bothers me most of all, is that my entire high school career has gone full circle. Freshman year, I was in English class with three girls singing Yellow Submarine. Senior year, I was with those same girls singing Chasing Pavements. The boys who I fell for are almost a perfect mirror image of each other. The confidence, the way it shone, the way it died and the way it grew again, not to what it once, but better...it's all just astounding. And yet while that may seem trival to some of you, my looking too deep into things, it fits perfectly, because through it all, I did whatever it is that I wanted to do and the era of our youngin' days ending, just shows how much I need to cling to that.

Lovely. Now on to this traveling business.

I'm terrified. I've never traveled alone before and it's not like going you know, Florida or something. It's a different flippsy country. "Flippsy" here having the meaning of an explicative not an insult to the country and its cultural values. Trinidadians are entirely different from the people I know. How do I know this? Simple, the way my cousin behaved when she was here. Stranger comes up and chats you up, polite, open, warming. Our take on the same situation, is grab your purse, defend yourself verbally, and have 911 on speed dial. And why is that? I don't know. Seems silly now that I think about it. I'm also afraid that I won't be able to keep myself amused long enough before I start to yearn for human entertainment, like you know communication. And worsty of all! I'm getting sickish. My tummy has been upset all day and I can barely talk. *pouts*

I know right? Poor me.

Off to the librachie to get my read on. Au revior pets.