No one's gonna take me aliiiiiiive...

Man, my hands keep shaking. It's really noticeable, too. It makes me think of Collette when we were in high school. I wonder if she still shakes, and either way I wonder why she did back then...

I thought it was because of lack of food, but I ate plenty yesterday and still shook like crazy. I mean, to the point that I had trouble opening poptarts and taking the cap off my pen.

San Francisco was awesome, but way, way too short. I love R so very very much. When I look him I swear my whole body lights up. My heart swells. He is my best friend, my comfort, my ally. He's the best thing to happen to me and I would do pretty much anything to keep him. So why am I so nervous that things won't pan out? He reassures me sometimes, but I feel like his snail pace in regards to our relationship means he doesn't want this -- doesn't want me. And that's a terrible feeling to have. I wish I could have more patience. I keep thinking that to take my mind off it, I need friends. I have no one to go to but him, and as much as I love him I don't want to be focused on him 24/7.

School started. It's gonna be a heavy semester. Hopefully I'll get through it, but right now I'm on edge. I haven't been able to afford the textbooks so have been flying blind all week. I should be able to get them tomorrow... if I don't, I might as well drop the classes.

Day 010

Well, here it is. I'm 25.

I leave for San Francisco in three and a half hours. It's going to be a whirlwind of awesome but as soon as it starts up, I'll have to come back here. Pathetic that it's already getting me a little down.

I took sleeping pills to make sure I got a good eight or nine hours so that I'd be full of energy for the day ahead. Airports and hotels and food and then a late night at the bar. Instead, I woke up two hours after I fell asleep and have been restless since. After I'm finished here I'll probably try to nap a bit before getting in the shower.

I finished reading the three Gallagher novels by Nora Roberts. I have to admit, despite my firm stance on "I can read whatever the hell I want no matter how silly because I have read more classics and weighty novels than you," I still feel a little guilty about saying I read these. I'm pretty sure my grandma reads these, and Nora Roberts is like the god of bored middle aged women. Still, I really liked them. It's too bad that there aren't any more about the characters...which is a problem I often have. I get attached to characters and then when the series is over, poof, they're gone. I'll never hear about them again, despite me feeling they're off living their lives somewhere. They made me smile, which is what I think made me like them so much. It's incredibly hard for me to do that these days, and I need to lighten the fuck up. I was swept away by the grand gestures of romance and the pouring out of love and affection. The sentiment, the family warmth, it was all lovely. It even had a magical element to it that definitely appealed to my literary tastes. Fairy tales and folklore will never get old.

I've been trying to find a few non-fiction books that I've been wanting for a long time, but to no real avail. Once I get back from my trip I'll have to check around at some of the secondhand stores around here (even though it's a fucking nightmare where organization is concerned).

Ok, nap time.

Shit, I'm 25.

Day 007

I started watching Huge because I was curious about how they'd portray all the fat kids. It's definitely a teenager-y show but I will more than likely watch it through the end. Surprisingly, it has accurately shown a lot of the lows of being overweight and how it hurts like a bitch. The makers of the show have really gotten into it; what it's like to try to fit in, what it feels like to be turned away when you don't. What it's like to be young and feel yourself unable and unworthy of trying to find someone that makes you happy, and being unable to believe you could make anyone happy. It also shows the highs -- how amazing you feel after you've lost a few pounds, and even though you know you have such a long way to go, you feel vastly different when you stand in front of that mirror. Way better than The Secret Life of an American Teenager.

I'm also a fan of True Blood (I watch a lot of tv and read a lot of comics). I can't say I've been terribly happy with the current season. The Sam subplot is kind of boring, and it irks me that his biological mother reminds me so much of my own, and not only in looks. I'm wholly uninterested in Bill and Sookie (so far the whole...beings of light thing is really dumb), and Jason is only vaguely funny. I do love Hoyt and Jessica, who has grown on me. When she first came around, I didn't like her at all. Tara is starting to bother me with her constant huge-eyes-quivering-like-crazy-lips face. Just chill the fuck out already. I'm glad that psycho Franklin is gone, though. And I love me some Lafayette. He has been a favorite character of mine since the beginning of the show. Truly, I want a Lafayette in my life. I hope he can fix things with Jesus. Arlene's thread is mildly irritating. She's always been weird to me...she seems a lot older than I think her character is supposed to be. I really like Terry and I kind of hate her for lying to him about the whole Rene thing. Who, by the way, is really fucking creepy in the most recent episode (which I haven't finished watching). I am hoping to see much more of the king of Mississippi, but not so much of his trashy werewolf guard dogs (and their bitches). I adooooooooore Talbot. Oh lord, Talbot. I want one of him, too. And Eric, as always.

Day 006

So, in an effort to make the most of my prison term, I've decided I'm going to try learning the tin whistle again. I get really frustrated when I can't do things automatically (I know, I'm an impatient child), so I've had these tin whistles for...years. Just sitting in my pen cup. I always wish I had more interesting skills, so why not try to learn? We'll see how long it lasts. If only I had that...what was the word? Oh yeah. Discipline. I'd say that I'd track my progress here but I don't really know how to quantify learning a musical instrument. I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb just fine. I can't read music, and honestly, I don't really care to. I wonder if it's direly required for the tin whistle.

I'm going to San Francisco this coming weekend for my birthday, which is on Friday. I am extremely excited because it's a weekend pardon from prison, and at the same time...anxious. I invited a few friends to a pub for Friday night, and the rest of the weekend me and R are going to be sinfully indulgent together. I'll try to take pictures. That's what makes blogs interesting, or so I hear.

Because I'm a psycho that likes to make lists (and then usually do nothing with them), I'm going to make one of the projects I'd like to at least truly begin or make progress in over the next year.

• Lose weight (honestly, does any female not have this on their to-do list? It's sick, in a way.)
• Exercise more, eat less. (What was that quote...eat food. mostly plants. not too much. Something like that.)
• Learn to play the tin whistle.
• Knit more, and learn to crochet (hey, I might go do that once I'm done with this post...)
• Really, really, really get the novel out of head and onto paper. Or a word document, as it were.
• Sketch your little heart out and stop sucking at drawing.
• Put together a sketchbook of the graphic novel. Write an outline for it.
• Keep going with origami projects. They really aren't that dumb.
• Get awesome grades in all classes. It's the best bet to get into any university. Don't listen to the douchebags that say what I do in community college doesn't matter.

I'm trying to think of things in the most positive light possible. At worst, I spend my year stuck here and get nothing accomplished and nothing happens and everything is the same as it always was. But at best, I could be in another country at a new university, or living in a beautiful apartment with my wonderful boyfriend. I could have a novel written and being shopped around. I could be selling art pieces. I could be making cute amigurumi toys and pretty scarves. I could be thinner.

So, all I gotta do is try, right? Right.

Day 005

It crosses my mind on a regular basis to run away. I know it's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but there it is. When people are feeling wistful, they say I have wanderlust. When people are upset with me, they say I'm running away. I often tell myself that if shit just fell apart (again), I'd drop everything, go somewhere completely new, and start over. Start myself over. One place I'd run away to would be some coastal village in Ireland. I could also go for a coastal village in Maine. Don't ask why, since I think overall I fare better in big cities, but the pull of coastal villages is strong in me. As long as they have internet, anyway. There is something incredibly romantic and soothing about living by the sea. I really like the ocean, but if I ever say that to anyone, they assume I like tropical beaches and suntans and palm trees and shit, which is not the case. "The sea" is so much more whimsical sounding, and fits what I like about it much better. I also want to live in a community where people actually know me, and come over to hang out, and have a communal place to meet up at. That can be had in cities, too, of course. Just without all the pressures of a city, I guess. And Ireland, with its intense greens and blacks, the devastatingly beautiful cliffs, the lilting accents and lovely folklore, who wouldn't want to live there? I've never been there, and don't really know anything about it. Maybe Ardmore, or Doolin. I'll have to look into it. Too bad Wikipedia doesn't tell me if there's decent internet in those places. I am made for living in jeans, tall boots, and thick sweaters. I am made for holding hot mugs with both hands and sitting by a fire. I am made for windswept hair and rosy cheeks, for parties that aren't of the frat variety. I am made for closeness and sentiment and love and fun. Bah! How did I ever get born in Southern California?

Since the global economy is in the shitter, I would need to be able to support myself somehow without actually relying on the local businesses. Writing is the first thing that comes to mind, but then that opens a whole new can of worms that has caused me to lose sleep hundreds of nights. Writing to support myself means having enough discipline to write, write some more, then polish, then polish some more, then keep writing. I like doing it but I have no schedule and never have. When I force myself to, nothing comes out. I get anxious over it all the time.

I wanted to start a "run away" fund for myself but I don't know how any future potential offspring may feel about that if they ever found out about it. I mean, if I had kids my ideas about running away would change. If I included them, I think their dad would yell "kidnapping." If I didn't include them, which I could never do but for the sake of discussion, that'd be abandonment. I think maybe this is one of the big problems I still have to overcome before I have children. I want to travel so much...

Day 003

I took the final for my math class last night. I think I did moderately well, but I hope I did well enough to garner a B in the class overall. I don't know what hallucinogenic substance I was on, thinking I would get all As always. I suppose it's from the lifelong expectation for me to excel in academics from my family. I've trampled all over my pretty grades for at least a decade now, though, and they still expect a gleaming 4.0. Ah, well. It's biting me in the ass now that I want to go to a real university. The only school I've even considered applying to is UC Berkeley. I don't want to be in shithole Southern California, and none of the other UCs up north are appealing. R has been bugging me to widen my options and consider other schools, particularly some in the north east. A perfect example of the bewildering expectations everyone has of me. I am of average intelligence, I think, and with the sullied state of aforementioned grades, my chances of getting into an Ivy League institution are basically nil. I try to explain to R and others that this confidence in me is grossly misplaced, but they all just shrug me off. Anyway, I decided I'd apply to Trinity College of Dublin (yes in Ireland, someone asked me earlier which Dublin I meant, for christ's sake) and Lund University in Sweden. I doubt I'll get into either of those schools, either, but I figure I might as well try to keep the masses off my back. I sent some emails earlier and I think the time for applications starts about a month or so from now. I have no idea how to apply to a school, so we'll see how that goes.

I started reading a Nora Roberts novel this evening. I wanted to read fluff that made me giddy and at first picked a fantasy novel written for teen girls, but it turns out it was in Spanish. My Spanish reading comprehension is unfortunately not up to snuff for that, so I had to find something else. Romantic Irish fantasy it was. Surprisingly, I'm enjoying it. I picture Matthew Goode in Leap Year as the male lead, and that's certainly fine with me. Smokin' hot, I tell you. And yes, I like Leap Year. Mostly because of Matthew Goode, though, and a few of the really beautiful landscape shots. Anyway, it bothered me that I was unable to read a light novel aimed at teenagers in Spanish, so I found the Harry Potter books in Spanish and have them all prepped for me after I finish Jewels of the Sun. I've already read them in English and the comprehension level progresses with each book, so I think they'll be decent choices in an attempt to get my reading abilities up to scratch. What use am I only being able to read one language?

Day 001

I should start by saying that I'm not actually in a prison. For reasons that will be explained in excruciating, redundant detail over the course of this blog, I am stuck in a very small town away from nearly everything I love, want, and admire. The quickest I can get out of here is a year from now. I am counting down the days until August 4th, 2011. I've already been here about two months and since then my demeanor has drastically changed for the worse. I am constantly in a state of restlessness, anger, sadness, irritation, or a combination thereof. It's a pretty shitty way to be all the time, and that's why I've started this blog. Hopefully, getting some of it out will alleviate the pressure of not having the life I want. Be prepared for whining, about this topic and others. Expect indignation, soap box and all. The complaints will be endless, the hope will be nearly unidentifiable.

I am nine days away from turning 25. Thus far, I haven't accomplished anything in life. I'll try my best to change that in the next 25 years. I am neurotic and ridden with anxiety. I have 99 problems, and while a bitch ain't one, there are still those 99 problems. With any luck, I will pare the list down a bit during the next year. I have a significant other, but he lives far away with his productive life. I have a family, but the members geographically close to me are absolute nutters, and the members farthest away are the ones I wish on a daily basis were living with me. I live with my dad, whom I love dearly, and is my only solace here in prison.

I attend a community college, and will be fearfully applying to a university sometime in the next couple months for the autumn of 2011. My expectations are very low.