and maybe that's okay

i didn't go to class. i was so close. just a few steps away from the doors of reed hall and i turned around and walked to the library instead. i can't sit in a classroom for three hours. not with four hours of sleep. not with a heavy heart. not with an upset stomach. not with my head full of thoughts and yet, so empty of solutions.

i yelled at God last night on the way home from the park a bunch of friends were at to spend time with michael and denny before they leave the country. it was two in the morning. and i started yelling. well, first i sang at the top of my lungs. then i yelled. as tears rolled down my face, my glasses fogging from the hot salt water, i yelled. first in an angry, bitter kind of way. then in a confused way, in an i-want-to-believe-again kind of way. in a this-is-how-you-made-me-what-else-do-you-expect kind of way. in an i-deserve-nothing-and-want-more kind of way. in the park, my friends circled around michael and denny to pray for their summer mission trips. and as they bowed their heads, i wanted to step away. i didn't feel safe in this group of people who are supposedly my friends. i couldn't pray with them. i couldn't even bow my head because i didn't agree with what they were asking from God. of course, i want michael and denny kept safe. of course, i want them to learn and grow. but i couldn't even open my mouth when it was my turn in the circle to ask for that. because i wouldn't have been praying to God. i would have been praying to them--these people, these friends with bowed heads and closed eyes. and so, i just couldn't do it. there were hugs to follow the amens, and i played my part, stuck to my role. i couldn't leave fast enough.

fuck you. i don't need to be treated like crap. i do a fine enough job treating myself like crap. i don't need your help. but thanks anyway. this self deprecation. this self consciousness. this self loathing. oh, it's all me. i have mastered that game. twenty-two years and counting. so, who the hell are you? i want your attention, but i don't want it that bad. so, i guess i have grown up. i guess i do know when to walk away. i don't want to, but i now know when i should. you know, i'm a cool person. i'm a good person. i'm a loving person. i'm weird. and crazy. and loud. and sometimes i am sad and sometimes i am happy. i am passionate. and i am strong. and i love to laugh. and love to smile. and i am loved. but maybe you don't know that. maybe you don't. and maybe that's okay.

go fish and old maid

i have three chapters of world geography terms to look up, and i don't want to. i have another test on friday, and i don't want to take it. i am tired. i just want to play with friends. and talk to friends. because the second wave of them are leaving next week. and i may not see them ever again. and i still don't know how i feel about this. do you know how people use the expression "it just wasn't in the cards" or "maybe it's in your cards"? well, i want to take a peek at these cards. just a little peek. i want to see if i should calm down. get excited. be patient. start preparing. i just want to take a peek at these all-knowing cards. i asked God to show me. i think i actually heard a laugh. God laughed at me. "that's not how it works," God says. i say, "i know, but i thought i'd ask anyway." i try not be angry at God. i try not to be frustrated. i need to be patient. i know this. God knows this. and yet, again i whisper, "please, God. please. just one little peek. really, what could it hurt?"

ten hours with friends

i told carl that i loved the way hannah (my four year old cousin) looked at me. she looks at me like i am cool, amazing. her face falls when i have to leave or she has to go home. she wants my attention. she fights for my attention. she makes me feel special. carl said i was cool and he acted like a little kid for awhile--jumping around, talking in a high pitch voice, asking me what i wanted to play. it made me smile. and laugh.

i swore i wouldn't play magic again. but i did. and i beat michael and brett. but then i lost. i should learn to quit while i'm ahead. but it just doesn't seem right.

rachael, michael, carl, pratt, and i ate at this indian restaurant last night. we saw this guy wearing a shirt that read, "horn if you're honky." carl and i couldn't stop laughing. later, after many comments made by me--in my post-dinner high--about people losing limbs, rachael and i decided we should make a shirt that says, "i like limbs." it would be a cool t-shirt.

the question: would you rather never talk to me again or talk to me every day for the rest of your life? it will be forever unasked, unanswered.

sometimes the scariest things in life are when you realize that maybe you don't want something as much as you thought you did or when you realize you do want something more than you had originally thought.

makes me

talking to two best friends on the telephone makes me feel a little more assured, a little more sane. i love sarah. i love abby.
buying pretty earrings from a random guy who likes good music too makes me smile. so now i am going to the "coolest place in fort worth" on tuesday.
watching the end of american iron chef with my aunt makes me laugh, makes me thankful. one guy made veal sorbet. that is so wrong in so many ways.
packing workout clothes to take with me for after class tomorrow makes me realize punishing myself benefits no one. they are in this little pink bag next to my backpack.
hearing my dad say he misses me makes me tear up and wish i was home celebrating his birthday, makes me remember how much i am loved. happy birthday, daddy.
studying for my second world geography test in less than a week makes me feel small and spoiled in this big world and rich country, makes me wonder if i'll know more places when watching alias. did you know that kazakhstan is a country? a pretty big one at that?
jamming to the new pornographers on the way to study and back makes me want to sing and dance along. so i do.

every night, every morning

every night as i wait to fall asleep, i am overwhelmed with a sense of hope. i make a list of all the goals i will accomplish the next day. i tell myself i will be a better person. a stronger person. i even talk to God. thank God. try to listen to what God has to say. i become giddy in this idea of a new beginning. of an entire night of rest preparing me for this new start.

every morning when my alarm wakes me up or when i naturally rise, i am overwhelmed with this sense of dread. i make a list of all the things i have to accomplish, when i just want to stay in bed. and hide. and dream. the reality sets in that i am not a better person and i don't have the strength to try. i curse the sun. i curse God. i'd rather close my eyes and dream my life away. at least in dreams i am happy. i am free. i am the person i want to be. i am not afraid. of an entire day of noise begging me not to press restart.

no more

no more boys.
no more magic. no more day dreams. no more waiting. no more kissing. no more hoping. no more instant messages. no more holding hands. no more phone calls. no more what ifs. no more mistakes. no more guessing. no more butterflies. no more frustrations. no more flirting. no more dark movie theaters. no more car rides home. no more smiles. no more hugs. no more talks. no more silence. no more broken hearts. no more pranks. no more feeling unworthy. no more.

no more girls.
no more drama. no more gossip. no more jealousy. no more phone calls. no more hidden messages. no more cattiness. no more passive aggressiveness. no more frustration. no more competition. no more comparisons. no more fights. no more hugs. no more clubs. no more gag reflex. no more fake perfection. no more feeling inferior. no more feeling ugly. no more.

stranger

have you ever walked passed a complete stranger and wondered what their story was? today i did. i walked passed this man on the way to my car after my summer school class (world geography--blah) and i wished i could ask him who he was. my cousin's daughter, hannah, said to me on sunday, "lindsay, my mommy told me your name, but i don't know you." i asked the four year old, "what do you want to know?" hannah replied, "i want to know you." and i wanted to tell this random man in the suit and tie that i wanted to know him. what does he do for fun? what is he afraid of? what was the name of his first pet? is he married? does he have children? what did he dream about last night? when was the last time he really laughed--the stomach-cramp-sore-cheeks kind of laugh? and what was so funny? if he could live anywhere, where would he live? has he ever done drugs? broken any bones? favorite sport? favorite color? favorite band? i wanted to ask him, do you believe in God? in love? in destiny? i wanted to know if he was happy.

God's plan

tonight at stephani's graduation party, her mom asked about my plans once i graduate in august. it is the most commonly asked question right now, so i have an almost robotic response--i give the highlights with a fake excitement to hide my terrified-i-don't-want-to-grow-up-don't-make-me state. then stephani's mom told me about what she ended up doing after college and how she met stephani's dad. she said the pieces just fell into place. everything fit together perfectly. and when she said that, i thought, i have no idea what that feels like. but i am not sure if that is really true. but in terms of being able to look back on your life and say, oh, that's what God had planned. or, oh, that makes perfect sense. i just haven't seen it. i know i am supposed to be this person right now. i get that. i get that i am supposed to meet people when i meet them, and say goodbye when it is time to say goodbye. but i don't get it. i don't see it. maybe i'm not supposed to. maybe i am supposed to have faith. but faith is hard right now. i have to trust. and i have trust issues.

and then i watch jaimie and josh. and i smile. maybe it's because i felt an overwhelming amount of gratitude for josh because he loves my sister, respects my sister, takes care of my sister. maybe it's because i had so much fun hanging out with them. but i smile. i really respect him. i respect him as a person. i respect him for the man he is and the man he wants to become. and i am really happy they are together--and probably will be for quite a long time.

unpacked and dreams

i wish i was a witch (instead of a bitch). if i was a witch my room would be packed. i would have all my items--some of which haven't been used in years--fly in my room in perfect order and fall neatly into their designated boxes. but i am not a witch. so my bedroom isn't packed. i haven't even started the kitchen. and my parents and brother should be here around six. and my mom will not be very happy. not happy, indeed.

last night i had a string of extremely crazy dreams about my friends. the first one was with sarah. we were traveling around the country in a bus like paris hilton and nicole richie (yet another reason not to watch trashy television--but it is oh-so funny). and we would stop and do these crazy stunts and say silly things and giggle for no reason. and i said, sarah, this is ridiculous. and she said, no, it's hot. maybe we should buy a bus, sarah. it's the only part of my dream that we don't already have or do. the next dream was with brett. he decided he wanted to be a professional break dancer. and i said, brett, you can't. you just signed up for seven years of active duty with the army. and he said, i'm going to run away to canada. and i said, well, if that's what you really want to do; i guess you should go. and he told me he would write and i told him i'd see him later. the last one was with abby. she called and told me that i should move to new york with her. and i thought she was right. so i packed a bag and drove to the airport. but when i got to the airport, they wouldn't let me on the plane, because my hair was dyed. and i told them that it isn't permanent. i told them that it will wash out in thirty washes. but they still wouldn't let me go. they said it was against airport regulation. and i was so pissed. i started yelling and crying and then i started laughing at the most ridiculous rule i had ever heard. i decided to come back after thirty washes.

spasm

i just woke up from a short nap. but i had time to dream that i got drunk and told him everything.

i need to learn that ignoring or avoiding a situation or a person is not the best way to deal with things. but i am not sure when i will learn this.

my head is pounding.

i haven't studied for the rhetoric test i have at eleven thirty tomorrow morning. but i just don't care. it shouldn't be too hard anyways.

i keep reminding myself that in three weeks it will all be over. but i don't want it to be over.

i am a spas.

it's alright

death cab for cutie sings, "i need you so much closer."

this morning--well, afternoon--when i was getting out of the shower, i noticed my towel smelled differently. it didn't smell like me. it smelled like someone else. like someone else had used my towel. my pink towel smelled like someone else's shampoo and conditioner. like someone else's body wash and face soap. i breathed in my towel. and i wished i smelled like that. not me.

"can you tell me why you have been so sad?" they sing.

i should be a lot more tired than i am right now. i didn't go to bed until five this morning. and then i had trouble sleeping in. i just haven't wanted to sleep, which is really unlike me. i usually don't pass up an opportunity to sleep. maybe i just rather be hanging out with people. talking to people. because they are leaving. and then i'm leaving. and so sleep sounds ridiculous. and school work sounds like a missed opportunity.

it's okay that i am not nice. i'd rather be honest. i'd rather be interesting. i'd rather surprise you. it's okay that i am not good. i'd rather be me. i'd rather be entertaining. i'd rather surprise you.

i don't want to be alone for the rest of my life either. i just try not to admit it. to think about it.

fuck.

ted leo and the pharmacists sing "it's alright" for over two minutes straight. and i start to believe him.

today's highs and lows

slept until ten o'clock this morning.
drove over to school to drop off my last ever spanish assignment--it was my take home final exam.
yelled "adios" to my spanish professor and pretty much skipped out of reed hall.
came home and burnt ten cds for friends and family.
went and hung out with debbie and lucy.
received looks of disappointment. was called mean. was called pathetic.
met stephani at borders. bought this dan chaon book that i have wanted. it just came out in paperback.
decided to work on paper and eat an early dinner at panera.
unsuccessful. so we went to the library.
brett called.
went to boys' apartment to finish paper.
started and completed a ten page chaucer paper.
had fun talking to brett.
watched this crazy break dancer on brett's computer.
came home to find sarah was still awake. it was one thirty in the morning.
we went for a french fries run. she remembered that the last time i had eaten french fries was with stephani earlier this semester.
talked about our days.
now it's three forty-eight.
waiting for brett to email me his paper so that i can look over it. i don't think i'll be much help.
guys next door outside. i can hear them, but don't understand what they are saying. probably for the best.
tomorrow i am not doing any work. good feeling. hopefully people will want to play too. hopefully they will be able to.

one twenty-seven

it is after one in the morning. and i should go to bed. but i can't. there is something wrong. there is something wrong and i need to tell someone. i need to write it down. but i can't. i am supposed to be a writer. this is what i want to do. write. but i can't explain what is wrong. i can't use the small amount of words i have to explain. i can't string them together in perfect patterns to paint you a picture of my feelings. of the thoughts in my head.

there is a postcard that was sent to postsecret that reads, "i use sarcasm to hide how ridiculously vulnerable i am." it wasn't my postcard. but it was my secret.

every day i look at the map of london i have over my desk and wonder if i will actually be there to see the real thing. to walk the streets i am starting to become familiarized with. to visit the modern art museum that i now know how to get to.

he didn't call. but i don't think i wanted him to.

today my bracelet broke. and when it happened, i felt this overwhelming sense of sadness, of fear. i felt like something bad was going to happen.

when i drank last night, my thoughts stopped. or maybe they continued, but i just didn't care what they had to say.

the word "frush" means to want to get to know someone better as a friend. stephani argues that there is no such thing. that either frushes lead to crushes or started off as crushes when frush is used in regards to the opposite sex. maybe she is right. i hope not.

debbie didn't call to make sure i was okay. i know she was busy. but it still makes me want to cry.

if you promise i'll have sweet dreams, i'll believe you. but you can't promise something like that. you just can't.

weekend.

friday.
sarah, rachael, stephani, sarah, and i drove to austin to see rilo kiley. they were awesome in concert--as usual. but they are becoming so popular, so mainstream. so the crowd wasn't that cool. but there was a pair of lesbian hobbits. at least, that is what they looked like--they were extremely short and making out. on the drive to holly's house (steph's cousin), we continued the concert by playing the rilo kiley songs that we all love but they didn't play. we had the music turned up really loud and screaming the many words at the top of our lungs. it was awesome. then we found a papa john's for dinner, but found that the pickup lobby was closed at ten and it was midnight. so we scanned for the number on the building and the delivery cars--hoping they would deliver pizza to our car in the parking lot. but there was no number to be found. then we saw a delivery guy coming back, and we rolled down the windows to ask for the number, but none of us could. we couldn't stop laughing. finally sarah was able to scream, "what's your number? we want pizza. we don't want to date you." this pizza guy totally thought we were five drunk girls in a small car trying to order pizza. but seriously, we were as sober as ever. and that made us laugh even more. good news though, he let us order pizza.

saturday.
sometime friday we all came up with the plan to dye our hair. so on arrival back to fort worth, we collected the things needed for the evening--hair dye, margarita mix, beer, and stopped at the boys' apartment to collect brett's tequila. we came back to our house and started dying and drinking. so, turns out, after a few margaritas and a couple shots of tequila, i was feeling the effects of alcohol. i'll just say it: i was drunk. and we hadn't had dinner, which totally didn't help the situation. i felt like this awful cliche. this sad girl who gets drunk just because. well, just because she is sad. i was tired of thinking. and i didn't want the drunk feeling to go away. so after being a happy drunk. i shut myself in my room, turned off the light. and started to cry. letting myself cry. maybe i didn't have a choice in the matter. sarah came in--one of the best friends i have--and we just talked and cried together and laughed together and she said and did all the right things. a little later, stephani and sarah convinced me to go to the boys' apartment. we sat in the car for awhile before going in, which was good because i ended up throwing up outside. i felt quite a bit better--if you can imagine. we went upstairs. i got a glass of water. and i told sarah i was going to go back outside for awhile. i needed fresh air and not a room of sober people. it wasn't ten minutes later and i came back in. brett was nice enough to make me tea (it was his tequila--he was smart enough to figure it out). and then we ended up playing magic, which was actually really great of him. i really didn't want to sit in a circle of people and try to convince them i was sober, when i wasn't. i started to feel so much better (even beat brett again, before he killed me twice). i ended up staying at their apartment after everyone left--finishing our third game of magic and then making a competition out of whatever we could. for example--throwing the remote control that has velcro on the back at the sofa to try and get it to stick. we ended up throwing it all around their apartment. yes, ridiculous. and yes, i say "ridiculous" a lot. it was fun.

oh and my hair is now a dark auburn--so completely unnatural.

the rules i live by

one. always follow the syllabus.
two. never trust what i say.
three. sarcasm makes everything better.
four. mocking you makes me happy.
five. my favorite word is fuck.
six. if i am mean to you, it means i like you. so smile.
seven. i have to win. the word "truce" is not in my vocabulary.
eight. i will always beat brett at magic.
nine. the word "zee" is in my vocabulary.
ten. i dig kids who spend nights in jail. and ride bicycles to work.
eleven. tim kasher: any place, any time.
twelve. i am a liar. i hear liars go to hell. so, yeah.
thirteen. i am going to london, damn it. don't ask me when. don't ask me why.
fourteen. i hate pickled things.
fifteen. i love my sister, who helped me write this blog.

i promise i am not boy crazy. it's just that boys are driving me crazy.

the good life concert.
it ended up just being me and stephani that went, which i think turned out to be the best thing possible. it seems like forever since we were able to have a conversation. a real lindsay and stephani conversation. we got lost again on our way to the club in denton. it shouldn't be that hard to find a music venue. steph and i saw tim kasher as we were leaving the bathroom as he was walking into the men's room. so we waited near the restrooms for him to come out, naturally. but besides stalking this incredibly sexy man (okay, seriously. last night--holy crap was he ridiculously sexy), stephani and i continued to talk before the bands started playing. these girls behind me were also highly excited to see my tim. damn, competition. then i heard the guy in front of me say, "i would fuck tim kasher." damn, more competition. that's all i need. oh, and this drunk girl started playing with my hair. "you have beautiful hair, " she slurred. "thanks," i replied but scooted closer to steph.

library.
congratulate me. i am now a graduating member of the carl hates me club. carl and i are actually friends. i saw him in the computer lab today, and i was just going to say a quick "hi," but we ended up having a really good conversation. nothing deep. but enjoyable and easy. and it made me really happy. i am really glad we are friends. it took us nearly four years, but hell, at least it happened.

fiction class.
turned in my final portfolio this afternoon. then four people read some of their writing to the class. it is part of our grade. sean read today. and as he stood there in his dark purple hoodie and tight blue jeans with his hands shaking from the nervousness of reading in front of the class. i found him incredibly endearing. and when he yawned a couple times in the middle of reading his own stories, i laughed. the entire class laughed. but he kept on reading. i don't know why i find this person so fascinating. so endearing.

on my way to rhetoric class.
i have been running into daniel a lot. and for the first time in two years, after all the confusing/frustrating/weird crap that happened between us, it hasn't been awkward. it's actually been kind of nice. and then i worry, has it been nice because i have felt lonely lately. or has it just been nice. or is it even nice? maybe it has just been not weird. which is nice. okay, you get my present confusion. anyway, i run into him today and he says, "i keep seeing you everywhere. maybe we should hang out." and i say, "that's funny. i've been thinking the same thing." which is true, but i had actually come to the conclusion that we shouldn't. so he says, "okay, when do you want to hang out?" and i say, "i don't know. whenever." and he says, "what are you up to tomorrow?" "oh, nothing much. nothing in the evening," i reply. "you want to hang out then?" "sure," i say. and we exchange phone numbers. and as i walk away i think, "what the hell did i just do?" and then i can't tell sarah, because she'll laugh or slap sense into me. but maybe i need that. well, now you know, sarah. i feel like an idiot. but i kind of want to hang out with him. if nothing else, to get some closure and maybe a nice reminder of why it was weird to begin with. as if i need a reminder. i'll let you know how it goes.

tonight.
after one beginner's luck game of magic with brett and richard in which i beat them both. we are playing again tonight. no one will help me this time (okay, richard would probably help me), not that i really want help. and all my smack talk will be laid to rest, especially considering i don't think i remember how to play. as brett keeps reminding me, he's going to "mop the floor with me." whatever the hell that means.

withdraw

lying in bed, i considered how far i could get. i have my passport with me here at school. if i went ahead and printed out the papers i have written, i would only have incompletes in half my classes. i thought about what i would take with me: cds, the few books i have been waiting to read, my computer to write, maybe a picture or two (maybe not). i thought about what i would leave behind: my cell phone, friends, family, trash in my trash can, unfinished papers, untaken final exams, the to-do list next to my bed. and then i remembered it was sunday. the bank is closed on sunday. i wouldn't be able to withdraw my savings.

listening to my phone ring, i began to cry every time i cleared the call. not because someone was calling, but because i didn't have the strength to answer it. i didn't want to talk; i couldn't talk. and then i would cry more, terrified. terrified that i'm not okay. not as brave as people think i am. not as sane as i claim to be.

watching my motionless ceiling fan, i thought about taping a note to my door that would read, "i need to be alone right now. thanks." or maybe i wouldn't add the "thanks." but then i remembered that i am never alone even if i did add the sign. i can't be alone. i can hide all day in my room. i can hide all week in my room. but my brain keeps working. my thoughts twirl and tumble and lie. my thoughts demand attention, demand an audience. and so i listen. i trust them.

"it's okay. i'll be okay," i half-heartedly whisper.