I HATE YOU.

50 years later, and not much has changed.

these few notes

I have this sneaking suspicion that Piccadilly's rocked last night.
I wasn't even remotely intoxicated, but I had a genuinely good time. (Good indicator.)
Seeing Pauly get into a giant circle and jump around with people he's met only once before put a smile on my face. Doing shots with 18-year-old Elias made me laugh. **ss getting accosted by several males throughout the night made me chuckle. Singing on the bus on the way home was like Frosh Week all over again - except we all had our voices this time. Our rendition of some Backstreet Boys song was particularly poignent. I think we repeated one verse close to 6 times... I feel sorry for the bus driver.
Nelly graduated last night. So proud. *single tear* Seeing people (mainly teachers) I used to see every day after two years was surreal. It was as if though nothing had changed - like I was back in high school, and yet so much was different. I felt smarter, somehow, standing there. More adult. More mature. Maybe I should lay off the crack...
Other things at ESA have changed too. For example, the Valedictorian speech sucked. (Mine was much better.) And they now actually recognize and celebrate the hard work and sleepless nights that go into putting together a yearbook. In my day... we had to walk uphill both ways... And we didn't get an award for it either...
And kids are ruder (word?) somehow. And more obnoxious.
But some things stayed the same.
The talent is still inspiring. The hard work is still apparent. The dedication still resonates. It was kinda cool to know that I used to be part of something like that, and for a minute even kind of go back to that. In my head at least.
I used to think I could do anything. I remembered that last night.

thank you

I'm going to lose this election. But it's okay because I won't be going away from this thing empty-handed. I've learned a few valuable lessons in the last week:
1) I have some amazing friends.
2) I need to learn to recognize the snake in the grass better.
3) Some people I deal with on a regular basis would sell their mother to the devil if it got them what they wanted.
4) Some people don't have brains.
5) You should never be quick to lend anyone your trust.
6) You should never lend anyone your reputation. It is the only thing you have in this world that others can mar and you cannot fix.
7) You should never be quick to judge anyone.

In regards to number one: Thank you. For your hard work, for your patience, for being human billboards, for lending me your time, and your shoulders to lean on. I can't express how overwhelming it is to realize that I have so much support in life. I can't begin to think why I deserve this. This election is nothing in comparison with what life can potentially hit you with, but you guys have all rallied and been there for me through every high and every low. If anything actually meriting support should ever happen, I know that even if you give me half of what you've given me during the past week, I'll make it through ok. I only hope I can be there as much for you if ever you should need me.

In regards to everything else: Pray you remain ignorant. The only way to learn these lessons is to get burned firsthand, and it is not a pleasant trip.

Happy Birthday D!

Man.
Being a politician is hard work.
Constantly having to be nice to people. Not being able to tell them to fuck off when you want to. Having to think ahead about everything... potential consequences, potential difficulties... potential photo opportunities... all whilst trying to maintain your integrity as an individual?
Not possible.
I've thought, one too many times this week: "Is it just me, or do you suck?" and haven't been able to vocalize it. (Not a natural reaction for me to stay quiet when someone provokes me.)
Also, the number of references concerning my boobs (which have been under strict and conscious cover all week) is getting overwhelming. (And annoying, and ridiculous, and insulting. I AM MORE THEN THE SUM OF MY BOOBS! I HAVE THOUGHTS! AND IDEAS! AND THEY'RE GOOD, GOD DAMNIT!)
And, it doesn't help that I'm the only female on a ticket. The boys I'm running with completely don't take me seriously. They think I'm their lackey and that I should do the photocopying while they take care of the "man stuff" and "real" campaigning. My ideas are all "bad" until a "man" vocalizes them and takes the credit. Can you say "Welcome to 2005, you pompous, chauvenist, crackers!"?
Because I can't.
Because that'll jeapordize my shot at victory.
I hate this.
It's not even about the job anymore. It's just about not losing to SAC.
FUCK SAC.
That is all.

Slota, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging

This is the party that brought me to such complete insanity that I thought it'd be a good idea to call anyone at 3 in the morning and thusly get a giant ball of CRAP rolling:


Slota gave us his blessings


We got tanked


Illicit activities ensued


Cont'd


When interviewed about it later, we remembered nothing


Except that I was, apparently, the only non-Asian at the party

And that **drew kept trying to push me into the bathroom with *lias and make us make out saying, "You're a nice girl, he's a nice guy - you should do it."
And that ***h was totally inebriated and couldn't move off of the couch.
And that some Frosh got dragged out of the party.

You could see how these events would lead me to make THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY MORTAL LIFE.
YOU SHOULD NEVER CALL ANYONE AT 3 IN THE MORNING, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, FOR ANY REASON because you'll regret it.
Trust me.
P.S. Also, don't listen to any advice Paul gives you when he's suffering from the Asian Curse.

Flavour of the Weak

The romantic escapades and trysts and forays into adventure that have managed to elude me for yet another weekend have left me more bitter and cynical then usual.
I actually banged a table today in the Meeting Place - like, with my hand. And referred to my ex as, "That bastard." In the company of three guys. THAT'S HOW BAD IT IS. And although I could go on about it for, like, a year, I've decided to channel my stress and anxiety and negative energy into something (much) more productive: A marketing campaign.
What am I marketing?
Only the most top-of-the-line-impossible-to-get product ever to hit store shelves: myself.

Apparently, it has come down to this: I'm running for Services Coordinator of ECSU, and it used to be because I thought I'd do a really good job (what with my extensive expertise in the field of... running things... and stuff...) and to spite some people, but now, after this weekend, it has just come down to being about me wanting to prove to myself, above all else, that I can do SOMETHING. Anything. At all. And if that means being a superficial polititian and, as a result, burning bridges I've worked hard to maintain with aquaintances for 2 long years because I happen to like these people, and not just so that they'll vote for me, then so be it.

This means it'll be really bad if I don't get the job. Because I'll lose at the one thing I was supposed to win at. To prove I could win. At something. Get it?
Because right now I feel generally useless in every other respect.

Forget the fact that I can't get anyone else to figure out what I want.
I don't know what I want.
I have NO CLUE what I want.
But it's not this - whatever 'this' is.

Somehow making that assertion brings me no nearer my goal - which is counter-intuitive.
You wouldn't think it'd be that hard.
Fact is: everything changes moment to moment.

Like, the moment I'm getting out of one bus knowing I'm going to wait for another has me wishing I had a car to drive to school. But the moment I'm walking by a gas-station and I notice the gas prices has me thankful I don't have to worry about a car.
Well, the moment some cute guy sits down and talks to me has me wishing he's not a complete retard so that I can develop a crush on him. And when he turns out to be totally cute and witty and charming and I can't think of anyone else, I'm wishing I didn't have a crush on him. And two seconds later, he says something, and I don't have a crush on him anymore, and I'm wishing I did, because it was so much fun. And then he looks at me, and I do, and I'm wishing he'd ask me out, but he does, and I'm so not feeling it anymore.

Am I insane?

If your answer still isn't "yes", how's this?
When ****n told me today that he wasn't aware I'd called him on Friday night/early Saturday morning (even though we talked for a full ten minutes at said time since he woke up and answered his phone - seemingly alert), I wanted to crawl under the tile floor and die.
Yeah.
THE TILE.
That's how bad I wanted to die. (And crawl... possibly.)
I'm thinking of painting my new room "Looney-Bin-White". Padding or no padding? Maybe it'd be better if I gave myself a concussion...