November 9th, 2018
|02:48 am - RAWR I AM A PANDA|
Yeah...this is sort of like the door you have to knock on before you enter.
Current Mood: peaceful
August 3rd, 2009
|03:27 pm - back log [how life's going]|
blanke blanke blanke something in me reached out and typed e after all the blankes, perhaps I was meant to write blanket? in that I need one. I haven't spoken to Ben since I went to the river with him and Austin and Kelsey. I followed them down to the river's edge and was met with old and young people lounging and drinking. They had started out in groups but the edges were bleeding into each other. The river was cool and stroked the rocks piercing through the water. ( EAR P( i called and waited and waited and called and left a message and waited and realized this would have to be done soon. kyle called up and said he could help me out. he came and picked me up and we went to the supply shop and picked up an eighteen gauge hollow tip needle. we lingered by austin's house because i thought maybe i could do it there and wait for kelsey to help me out but we moved on i got home and waited some more. i got together what i needed: cotton balls, 90% alcohol, needles, gloves, ice, 3 earrings, and my fear and courage. i had it all out and thought, why the hell not now. let's get it over with. i've opened myself up, i can stand a hole in my ear. i did not correct myself and say three. i sterilized everything and packed some cotton behind my right ear. the needle did not shake in my hand and my hand did not shake my ear. It did not hurt when I poked the skin, it hurt a second after. i just kept pushing and it went and i was off with my angle so I corrected it and it was through. i knew it was through because the cotton was caught by the end of the needle when i pulled it away. i stuck the earring into the hole at the business end of the needle and pulled it through. the feeling of the metal sliding through my skin fat was interesting and painful. I put the back on and rested. the next two went the same way except that when I was pulling the needle through it HURT like a flash that kept flashing, like the shine and i was not expecting that. i looked at myself once: my wide dark eyes, the lines underneath them, my sallow skin, the sweat rolling down my cheek and falling on the counter to join the spilled alcohol to make a bitter tongue, and my shirt sticking to my chest, my breasts heavy against my chest and i thought, i do not know you. )IERCING) As we walked past some, they greeted us hap(drunkenly)pily and Kelsey responded like she knew them and she did but I did not know that at the time. We trekked past some teenagers who Kelsey also knew //I guess she goes down here a lot.// and up a small hill. The ground was grassy and soft. We stood in the ice-cold water for 30 minutes or so, and Ben and Austin spoke idly of drugs and norcos. I asked Austin and he told me that he was on 2 or them, norcos that is, and some other drug and had drunk alcohol besides. I told him to be careful because that's all you can do. I hate feeling hopeless but who doesn't. I check my _____: 160. They gave me Don Juan's book to read. It's all about this guy being taught by Don Juan about peyote. I was engrossed but this was confused by my friends to mean that I was interested in peyote and I'm not. At least, I hope not. I reached out for Ben's back to pop something and he reacts violently, hitting me in the process. I was stunned. when I am hurt mentally or physically, I respond by ignoring the person and swallowing my hurt so it does not show. of course, to people who know me, they see me ignoring them and know that they did and then it doesn't work. I haven't spoken to him since, and I don't think I'm going to. He hasn't called. I am unhappy but know it's for the best. It's just a little funny to me that he's giving me up this easily after going on and on about how he wants to be my friend when I'm in college and he'll want my cell number and now it's all gone. i wouldn't talk to him anyway, unless he 1. apologized for being an asshole to nathanael, 2. apologized for being an asshole to me. and even then I probably wouldn't want to see him. i need to get out of here.
I woke up with a horrible sore throat and the desire to eat soft things. I then remembered that I had a meeting with Emily Potter and threw on a tank top and looked at the clock. It was 10.30, and so I searched for Dad until Vanessa told me he was getting doughnuts. I started walking towards my room when he burst through the door. He's coming back for me soon...I don't know how this is going to go down, but I'm sick and that will definitely have an effect on my conversation with her. I think I'll tell her that immediately so she doesn't worry about it. That's not the right word. I feel like POOOOP. I don't even know what to eat for breakfast. Should I? I'll just be eating again in an hour. I thought I finished the ribbing, but my sister was like, you need another inch Paige. So I'll keep working on it. I did a row of knit though, so I'll have to undo it. :(((( 4:33 the next day Yeah...I'm still awake. I tried falling asleep to Mallrats, but I kept waking up due to my sore throat. I then got up and watched Family Guy and then my sister walked in and was like, I can't breathe and it's freaking me out, so I let her in and watched some Waterworld and then left to go drink my tea. I found that it's easier to drink tea from the cup than the spoon. I think I'm going to ask Dad to buy me some anaesthetic spray tomorrow, because I need to eat and it's really easy to stop eating because it hurts but it really helps get over the illness, which is my main concern. I want to be well in time for college. I've been too sick to think about hurting myself or suicide. It just feels like overkill to me, mainly because I would feel like shit x 2. I am a sick beaver face. I am going to go work on my glove cuff. I do not know if I am going to sleep at all tonight. :( Then again, I bet my sore throat will be better in the daytime, so I'll probably have an easier time sleeping. I'm realizing that my self-injury through cutting and overdosing is attracting interest, sure, but not the good kind. I don't know if I knew this already, or if I thought about it and then dismissed the notion, because I've done this before; I've thought, okay, that was the last time, let's not go through that again. The last time I quit this was back in 2007, I think, or at the end of my psychiatrist visits. I had been talking and being awkward with the group. I had become casual about the visits, and I admit I probably thought of them as my friends. I hated talking about my issues because I felt like I had to blow up everything to 200% in order to sound credible. I felt like I didn't have enough reasons, and it's true, I didn't. My reasons were, in order of what was said most: my parents, the whole kate shebang, being dumped by my boyfriend. The truth is that I may have been influenced by those things to cut, but though those things got better, the self-injury did not. I cut so I wouldn't think about suicide. The more I cut, the worse it got. I usually stopped when it couldn't be closed up with a bandaid, and I had to resort to super glue to close it. I don't know if talking about it helps or doesn't help. The therapist told me that talking about it helps and then I can't bottle it up, but I always hold back shit from her and so I still am bottling it up. And then I think, why the fuck am I listening to her? I think I should save one hour of my day to write about my day so far, and I should talk about anything, stuff I like stuff I dislike my conversations whatever. It also depends on who I talk to and when. When I talked to Danny about it online, I listened and calmed down and went to sleep. When I talked to Danny in person, I freaked about and scared the shit out of him. I told him I was going to kill myself and that he should leave me alone and all this crap. I think I should just say it aloud, and that way I don't have to worry about who is listening or what they will think, because Nathanael could read this, sure, but he doesn't have to. I have a sore throat today, and I need to clean my room. I ate a lot of okra and a lot of blueberries. I think once my sore throat goes away I'm going to feel dandy. I should cook myself some eggs. Have I thought about self-injury today: No. I feel like I'm back in ______. I have to grow up in time for college. I know that this is a mental thing. That incident with Danny should be my overdose back in 2007; something that shakes me up enough to stop.
I am sitting at the tile counter, my knees scrunched up and directly underneath where a black widow used to live and where it died. My father and sister are watching the end of Superbad. Dicks fly across the screen; they are at the credits and there is snoring from him. My sister warns: “Yeah, this is the credits, it’s where all the penises he drew come back and there’s more of them…” He snaps back tiredly: “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” as he unsteadily lurches from his seat. He’s wearing black shorts and his orange shirt, which hangs unattractively in folds across his expansive stomach. The dining room is dully illuminated by an upside down mushroom lamp, and light lines can be seen in the glare; a dead spider exoskeleton dangles from its last string. It’s interesting how it’s stuck there by the string coming out of its ass, instead of the rope around my throat which I loop around the pole a few times to make sure it’s going to stay. I think momentarily of the song in which halfway through there are words yelled impotently, and underneath the words coming up to overtake them is an insane panting. There’s sweat in her hair, there’s wanting in her eyes, you can see and taste and feel this all clearly. I murmur the words along with him, but as the heavy breathing gets louder and louder, I am unsure what part to do, and often switch back and forth, the rational and the whore, and I pray to God my mother doesn’t walk in. Vibrato headache. I never learned to sing correctly; when I come to a long sustained note, the note comes out the head shakes the eyes raise up to the ceiling and go back down, there’s nothing interesting up there except grates and paint. A transportation puzzle sleeps quietly on the floor with its insides scattered around the house. Big pieces with big handles for small hands to fondle. It’s late. It’s late and I said I would call but my eyelids are damp and heavy and I like the smell of my fingers. Cat bends over low and eats the dry food, his head snapping back and forth with the force of his bites. His back, with his well defined haunches and lines leading through to outline his bones, resembles a prepped turkey. I touch my hands together for a moment, holding one in the other, feeling myself up. If I didn’t know any better I’d say my hands were tough leather, tough burlap feigning life. The grooves on my left hand sting when I squeeze them, the seams are unraveling. Who the hell stitched this up, anyway? I might as well be caressing Kate or my mother; I don’t make the connection between what I feel and what I see and it’s better that way. I had the opportunity and I almost blurted out, “You should watch me carefully, I do stupid things.” But I always leave me a mousehole, like the one they have in Los Angeles that the rats are supposed to hold parties in but don’t according to conservative freight workers who get up early and their kid wakes up and peeks around the corner and she sees Daddy tying up his laces and her hands are his hands which are numb and can’t get around the strings right and he sees her and says: “Go to bed.” And she does. At the work there’s powder and smoke, and Daddy’s flying, Daddy’s flying high tonight, today? The day always goes by strangely when you start at 4:00AM. I touch my feet and I can’t feel my fingers. I take my feet out from under my ass and shake them painfully in the air to get the blood flowing. When they swing down from the seat, there’s a tremor that passes through my legs because of the tingly pain sensation. I crack my fingers and the leather bends and creases and blood flows between the cracks and I’m back where I fucking started.
July 31st, 2009
|10:57 am - ...|
I went on here for fun and noticed Bridget still posted how her day's going. This made me feel weird, because I have another lj that I put whiny shit on but lately it's been less whiny, more descriptive. So I figured I might as well post.
I'm sick. My throat hurts and this means I don't eat as much as usual which is good good good but I don't feel well which sucks.
I'm getting ready for college; I'm supposed to go through my room and pick out stuff that's going with me because my sister is moving into my room and my stuff will go into hers. So I have to figure out what I will read at college and if I'll just go to the library a lot or what.
I met my roommate at Vallejo's downtown. She seems nice and boring and Presbyterian. I guess it's better than a psycho bitch, and who knows? Maybe she's secretly interesting.
I'm debating whether to bring some videocassettes, because I don't remember if the TVs had VCRs. I would not mind bring a VCR to college, because otherwise I'd only watch stuff as it comes on.
I wish Kate and Chard would stop being so spiny/poky.
I'm going rafting tomorrow. Should be fun. My little sister is so cute.
I have not slept in a day. Every time I fell asleep, I would swallow and wake myself up. :(
June 3rd, 2009
new ideas for tattoo:
lips speak louder somewhere nice
tonight i need the real thing somewhere nice
and yeah, I know what they're from.
March 9th, 2009
March 6th, 2009
|09:30 am - today|
I’m in the library during my open period. James Dodd just walked in with earphones inserted, and the librarian ineffectually said over and over: “Hey, hey, you, you can’t just, you can’t…” James couldn’t even hear her though, and he sat down and took out his earphones and continued talking to his friends. It was epic.
March 3rd, 2009
|11:27 am - my day up 'til now.|
what I've done today:
had a bowl of oatmeal, was so full that I didn't bring a squash for lunch as planned.
went to art; started making a screen print for knitting because I'm a geekafreak.
-tried to help Bridget with her screen printing shit but it wasn't working. Ms. Stiles immediately thought it was my fault, and of course all the retarded sophmores looked over at me so I made a face at them back. Dumbasses.
Went to open period library.
I looked up violin crap on the computer and found out where the notes should be, etcetera. I wonder why they don't have the notes articulated on the violin, like how the guitar has frets and the piano has minor keys to break up the major notes.
Afterwards, I chose to do my English homework instead of knit because then I can knit in English instead of do work. It's a good option.
Talked to Yulia and Soyeon. I used to hate Yulia because she's uptight and always working and hates abortions. but she's good for light hearted conversation and catching up in hw.
It was cold looking but gross outside, but after 2 seconds of this it started blowing like a fucking hurricane and the rain came down in sheets. Sacramento really puts a damp on your mood.
Walked outside with Gaby (who went in with Mister Kuzmich (he looks like Robin Hood) as a TA) and noticed that it was raining really hard, so we stayed indoors.
Met up with Chard, and then Kate.
Walked to French class. Met up with a friendly girl who told me the homework. Found out we had homework, but it's due tomorrow, so sweet.
We spent the entire time looking up our countries that we were assigned. (The project is planning out a trip there and not going over budget. In some cases the plane ride there is so exhorbitant that you have to live on the streets for the rest of the time. I got Geneva, which is better than Hanoi, which I got last year.) I went on Facebook, found out I might be able to fly down south on the 27th, looked for an imaginary flight to Geneva from here, found a suitable hotel, went on Facebook somemore. Negretot is pretty retarded when it comes to computers.
About the Southern California trip, I wish I wish I wish I could go. It's just too vague right now, I can't even mention it to my parents because they will immediately ask about details and I don't have them. I'm not sure that my parents would let me skip more than 2 days at school, not without some sort of written promise that I won't fail. That would be wonderful though, because I would see Nathanael sooner and actually get to live at his house for awhilez. I'll work on them.
It's weird; I think Mr. Negretot has some sort of issue with my knitting. Everytime I pull it out he gives me this glare and comes over to give me busy work. He even gets pissed when I knit and there's nothing going on! I can see the hostility if he's trying to teach the imperfect or conditionnel, but really? Are you really going to do this when we are waiting for John to finish his test because he wasn't here yesterday and has to take it right now so everyone's sitting quietly and reading and waiting? Really?
Walked downstairs to AVID.
Passed by my old Freshman English teacher; I made a face at him and he made an ugly face at me too. I put my stuff down and continued out the door to TOK, the class a few doors down. I walked in and sat in what was Kate's seat before she switched to retard English and had to change her schedule around. I waited and said hi to Chris who tried to put a ketchup packet in my pocket so I threw it at him and ran away. I said hi to Ben Ross and Chardy and finally left after dicking around some more. Went into my lair. Was told humourously by Ms. Grueneberger that I was constantly late.
I'm supposed to give her my accepted letters so she can photocopy them and put them on her wall. But I keep forgetting. I'm going to do it today after school, and put them in my backpack so I don't forget.
I ate a bunch of Kyle's wheat thins. Guess this means I should eat a good dinner; I promised myself I would eat only three items today and I cheated so I have to keep at it.
Ms. Grueneberger asked, "What can I do for you? What can I do to help you, Paige? I'm here for you."
I said, "...I think I'm going to the library again."
Nowadays I just forge her signature for the pass. She looks it over and says, good imitation! you've been practicing?
In the library, I go on the computer and get on Facebook. No changes. Go on LJ. Nathanbutt still hasn't added me. Jerk. I start writing about my day. And here I am.
March 2nd, 2009
|06:11 pm - update|
A list of what I've been doing:
I got a new string and a bow for the violin. BOO FUCKING YA.
Daphne busted her lip.
I love Nathanael and have curbed my retarded bouts of self destruction due to his concern.
I've been exercising.
I finished a few scholarships today! FUCK YEAH.
I get to find out how much money I get from the gov tomorrow.
I get Nathanael up here in a month or so.
I cut my bangs. My rationale is that they looked silly with my glasses, so now that they are gone I can start over and look pleasantly cute and harmless. This is how I hook in men. Only later do they realize how fucked up I am. In a good way, of course.
I washed the cats.
I had a wonderful time at Bridget's a day ago. Sometimes I go over and it's awkward, or it's slow or whatever, but this time it was genuinely fun. Nostalgia is hilarious in retrospect.
Also: Senior Cyborgs? Hilarity.
There’s nothing quite like getting an unexpected smile. A smile transforms what was ordinary into beautiful, and like a flower receiving the sun, I can feel my body turning to reply. The smile settles into my skin warmly, like a down comforter, and keeps me cozy. In sophomore year, I took Algebra 1 for the second time. I had a few friends in the class, so I wasn’t afraid to make new ones. Boris, a very serious Russian boy three seats ahead and to the right, was a constant reader. When our class was given free time, he would always choose Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment over a card game. A few times, I would come up to him with a smile and ask how the book was going. I myself read profusely and thought I could relate with him. I must add that my methods of asking were eccentric and no doubt confusing to Boris. I would thump over on my knees to ask how his day was going, and by the end of the year, I had learned little to nothing about him, except that his days were good and he was an atheist. I then moved on to my new classes, and thought little of him, until I noticed him on my way to third period.
I coaxed him into sitting with my group during lunch, and learned that he had a twin brother at the same school, that he had few friends, and that he was lonely. I realized why he was so reserved and quiet: he was used to being harassed and made fun of, and at first assumed I was doing the same. I then witnessed him being bullied during lunchtime. My friends didn’t want to get involved, but I sat by him, chatting and distracting him from the jerks bothering him. I consider him a good friend, although I’m afraid he regards me as a love interest.
Smiling has given me cause to look forward to vacations for better reasons than sleep and doing homework. I went to the California College of the Arts last summer for a pre-college program, and was immediately stunned (and probably a little too excited) at the realization that no one knew who I was. I could be anyone here, and therefore could reinvent myself. I had made friends with my roommate, and suggested we walk to the grocery store nearby. On the way out, I passed the same gangly boy I had smiled at in the hallway. “Hi, my name’s Paige and she’s Allie. Come with us to Safeway!” He said alright, and I found out his name (Jeff) and where he had come from (Hemet). From there, I made friends with his roommate, his roommate’s friends and so on, until I was in a veritable gang. For a week during Christmas break, I flew a plane down to San Diego, where I stayed with these new friends I have made. During another of these visits, I realized that I loved Jeff's best friend, Nathanael. Making this emotional jump took several years of hesitation and uncomfortable relationships. Usually, I would assume that even if I did have a crush on someone, it was all mental. It wasn't, unbelievably. I used to be incredibly shy, preferring the scripted dialogues of books to the real-life anxieties of initiating a conversation. The cheering power of a smile brought me out from this gloomy retreat, and I am now able to make new friends of my own accord. I no longer have to cling, like a tiresome vine, to old friends out of desperation; I have the confidence to make new ones.