Sunday, January 23, 2011

Morose

My boyfriend and I got into a fight last night

Unlike most of our fights this one was held during the middle of a "punk show." He got pissy and said I hated society. The fact that we were standing amongst a crowd of nonconformists seemed a little too ironic. I don't HATE society. I just hate people.


It happened during a conversation about how I didn't want to be forced to pretend what other people cared about at my job/school. What their interests were. I didn't want to pretend (there's that word again) to be interested in someone's conversation/life. He gave me that 'all you do is complain' look and told me I was in "the wrong field, honey." Well fuck you very much and your snide attitude. Before letting me give him my look of annoyance, he spat "It's called a JOB!" REALLY? I'm supposed to endure hours upon hours of mental suffering and shut up and be happy about it because that's my job? Because that's life? I refuse to settle with that explanation.

And why can't I complain? Because it's annoying? Fuck you, fat people are annoying. Wanting something more, something better for yourself, for your life, it's an instinct. An instinct most people ignore or choose to forget about along this dull and dirty highway we call life.


XXX
Miranda

I don't feel like this one is finished.. But I'm sure I'll forget about it within the next couple of hours. So I've chosen to post it now.

The Chip on My Shoulder

Hello old friend

I've picked up a bad habit. I'll write a few paragraphs and fail to finish the whole post, much less publish the damn thing. So as to prove that I HAVE been writing (a little) I will publish them now. (Or copy and paste them.)

"I hope I start my period soon because I am in a BAD. MOOD.

I'm sitting here in a foul state of mind, watching one of the three Will Smith movies currently on the television, drinking a self poured margarita and the first thing I think of (besides how I wished my drink was one shot stronger) is: this is a perfect time to blog.

When your boyfriend is the happiest man you've ever encountered, so happy he has "Love Life" tattooed on his hands, you get to feeling rather guilty for always hating the world. Which in turn makes you feel like an even bigger pile of shit.

We've currently been dating almost two months and for a majority of the time I've been in an extremely good mood. But I am now starting to think that maybe MY good mood is HIS bad mood. It's starting to pose as an obstacle in our relationship. I'm beginning to feel like I'm just too negative a person. And I've always found my pessimism my strong suit. HENCE aformentioned post. Don't get me wrong, I love my man to pieces, I've never been more comfortable in a relationship (I fart infront of him for Christ's sake"


Now, with that one.. I believe I was starting to complain (weird) about the first time my boyfriend got upset at me. For being "POUTY" something he still hasn't gotten used to.

"I almost died. AGAIN

If anyone of you read my previous blog, (which I'm assuming you haven't, nobody did) you would know that this past summer I almost drowned on my first rafting trip. It was more of a.. 'floating down a calm river ON a raft' type of trip.. but that shit had some serious under current, so it's the same thing. Well this time, this time I got hit by a car. I GOT HIT BY A FUCKING CAR.

I had just gotten out of school, returned a RedBox movie (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World) at the grocery store then got on my bike, turned left out of the parking lot and started cruising down the hill. Some bitch at the bottom of the hill pulled a California Roll and.. we collided. The right side of my body and FACE slammed onto the windshield, I bounced off and hit the back of my head on the hood, then flew off the car and landed on the road. Nearly getting ran over by oncoming traffic.

The only thing I remember is thinking 'I hope my ipod is ok' and looking at the scattered pieces that once belonged to my phone and wondering how I was going to call my boyfriend to come pick me up. The woman who hit me came running over, along with a few other bystanders, and wouldn't let me get up or move my neck. My attempted murderer called my boyfriend for me while about 15 cops and firemen strapped me onto a big piece of plastic."

That one's obvious. I got hit by a car. Fine now. I could benefit from a prescription though.

XXX
Miranda