name: amber
age: 22
location: new orleans
aim: sapgirly mail work
June 29, 2003
It's not even something you wish for. Not even something you hold inside you and hope with. When it all starts coming down, you don't want to be able to say "I told you so." The train wreck is coming. You can feel it. And you step right the fuck off the tracks. Even if you need a path to follow you step off the tracks because it's gonna hurt worse than the last time. You think everything's glued together just fine but if it breaks again you won't find the pieces and so you step off the tracks and you're not gonna get back on. You're not gonna risk it. You're not gonna ask for forgiveness this time. You're gonna get the hell out of the way. You're gonna walk on.
I decided not to go to North Carolina. Not that you knew I was thinking about going to North Carolina. But I've decided not to go based on the fact that Josh wouldn't be home for eight hours most of the days I was there. And it's 200 dollars.
And hey Keith. I totally told you not to read this and all but who knows, maybe you are. Where in the shit are you!? It's been like three weeks.
I feel so foolish. It's a tough call, you know -- risking people with whom I have emotional attachments seeing this thing and exposure. I have this linked from my tulane page. I have this linked from Bolt. I've never been worried about getting in trouble for this stupid blog but ... I could get in big trouble for it. Stuff that's a lot more embarassing than some stupid ex-boyfriend reading it. ::sigh:: I might hurt or hurt myself about people I have to see, like, on a regular basis (to use "like").
And goddamnit, I'm eloquent, am I not? And one must make sacrifices for art and this is kind of art. At least, I proof read and re-read and I'm proud of certain things. I mean, not this. Not this particular sentence or this particular post but there have been posts that I have thought were eloquent -- that were worth a bit of risk. Like my poetry, some of it, even though it's about really personal things, even though it's about people that potentially have access to and are reading this site -- it's worth it, because I like my work and I think it's good enough to be somewhere, not just locked up inside my head or my room or my personal computer. So maybe I should say "fuck this shit" and just not care what anyone thinks but then ... it'd really suck to be the author of my own demise. It doesn't really matter what happens between Joey and I because I don't have to deal with that, you know? All I have to do is not answer his email if he replies (and I really really don't want him to) and that's it -- he can be gone. But there's people here, in my building, or two minutes away from me, that could make a big difference.
In other news, I love being back here but for some reason I'm very lonely. There's very few people actually in my dorm, of course. My RA who was very nice to me when Joey and I broke up but hasn't really said much to me since, the PA or something whom I've never said more than "hi" to before today, Scott, who apparently doesn't like me very much or at the very best is indifferent, Carol, his pseudo-girlfriend, who I would have said was my friend a month ago but something happened, Mattie, who is very nice and I'm glad she's here, Graham, who I wouldn't necessarily consider my friend but sometimes says strange things to me like "I'm glad you're back" and, finally, Jared, who is a terrible flirt and it always makes me uncomfortable when guys flirt with me. This is how it always has been. Diana, Phil and I were having a conversation about those guys that stare at you from the road. Phil is flattered, Diana irritated and I don't even notice.
Dream I had last night:
I was homeless and kind of traveling with these two guys. We had to find a place to live and there was this big, empty house. So we thought -- perfect! There were three stories and we each were to have a story to sleep on. The house was totally weird -- there were small bottles of milk in strange blue containers all over the counters and tons in the fridge. The milk was still fresh.
So we were settling down to go to sleep the first night and I hear crying and then a dad reprimanding his child. Turns out they were ghosts. So I just yelled at the dad and told him I was going to kick his butt if he didn't lay off the kid. Blah blah dream stuff blah and then I ended up on the second story, talking to the child, and telling him to "go find God."
This dream wasn't exactly a nightmare because I wasn't really scared. I can't remember the last time I've had a nightmare. The religious implications are rather strange. But I'll overlook them because I watched "The Exorcist" yesterday.
I need to get out of here for a while. I want to take a trip. A road trip. I want to take it with Kelly. I want to get out of this dump for two or three days (because that's all I can spare from work) and drive and drive and drive and be someone completely different. Just blow this joint. Eat at greasy diners and sleep in crappy hotel rooms (or in the car). Stepfather gave me The Bad Girls Guide to the Open Road which was a big mistake because I get ideas from stuff like that. Always been my downfall -- too many ideas.
You all (and by all, I mean hahaha) would be jealous as hell of the jacket I picked up at the Salv Army today. Beautiful, gorgeous winter coat that will come in handy when the seasons change again. Seven dollars. I feel like Sofia Loren. And Love in the Time of Cholera for a dollar. I am queen.
Wow. Blogger is new. In any case, I just finished reading A Child Called "It" and it was really disturbing but it only took a couple of hours to read while I was waiting for MakeOutClub's threads to load. Why, oh why do I love this place called the internet so?
last cigarette: time before last that i got trashed in the dorm
last car ride: i drove today. last time somebody drove me was from the airport when i arrived here about three weeks ago
last kiss: last time i was in NO
last good cry: can't even remember. i'm sure it was about joey
last library book checked out: i currently have out Pigs in Heaven, She's Come Undone and Trainspottinga last movie seen: the matrix reloaded (big screen) father of the bride (1950 -- on television)
last book read: last one i finished was Pigs in Heaven but I'm currently on Trainspotting last cuss word uttered: had to have been fuck. or maybe it was shit
last liquid drank: good ol' water
last food consumed: a fried crab puff (ew, that sounds gross)
last crush: guy i'm kinda maybe somewhat with
last phone call: steph, state dog and "state cat"
last tv show watched: ... seinfeld. which i hate
last time showered: this afternoon
last shoes worn: beat up like nobody's business candy's flipflops
last cd played: better than ezra's deluxe
last item bought: with my own money? bed head shampoo and conditioner. mom took me shopping today. i got all kinds of good stuff
last downloaded: i was working on the john mayer album (shame shame, i know)
last annoyance: brother
last soda drank: diet coke
last thing written: rabbit rabbit (it's a new month)
last key used: )
last word spoken: yeah
last im: keith
last sexual fantasy: probably something really tame
last weird encounter: honestly, yes, it was
last ice cream eaten: how sad. cafeteria froyo
last time amused: on the phone with steph
last time wanting to die: first semester
last time in love: ... first semester ...
last time hugged: probably when i saw liezl for the first time after having been back
last time scolded: today, actually
last time resentful: i generally don't get resentful. i can't think of any time
last chair sat in: i'm in a swivelly office chair right now
last underwear worn: i've got on purple silky-type ones right now
last time dancing: i was dancing a bit earlier
last poster looked at: there's a lighthouse poster in here
last show attended: gah... this is embarrassing. gilman to see bands i can't even remember during christmas break. unless better than ezra and reel big fish playing my school's auditorium counts. i think it should.
last webpage visited: i've been on makeoutclub.com's boards all day
