tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92102812632811272912024-03-13T04:03:26.979-04:00Midnight Mantra"Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars."Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.comBlogger450125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-22685278875466676042015-08-16T15:11:00.002-04:002015-08-16T15:11:49.575-04:00EpilogueOkay, I caved. I'm already doing an epilogue.<br />
<br />
Reading this again, I learned a lot. I saw how I've changed. That's why I keep my journals and shit, so I can learn from them. Compared to where I once was, the place I am now is darker. A lot. Things back then were so much lighter, and I had no idea how good they were. It's a lesson in appreciating things, I suppose. Or not letting the bad things get you down so much.<br />
<br />
I don't mean to say that you should appreciate the way things are now because in the future they are going to be so much worse. But in an open letter to my past self, this is what I am going to say.<br />
<br />
Dear Past Carolyn,<br />
There are two categories of things in your current life. A few things that will change and a few things that won't. And there's no way to tell which things fall in which category. It's all tits up.<br />
<br />
In a way that's also comforting. It's how life is. It's a big story with a lot of variables. You have to learn which things you can control and which things you can't, so you avoid either wasting time or becoming too fatalistic to function.<br />
<br />
You will learn the demons in your head and you will name them. One will be bipolar disorder. One will be rape. One will be self-harming. One will be delusions. One will be alcoholism. One will be daddy issues. There are a few demons you have now that will fade away. And there are more to come. You will learn how to fight them in time.<br />
<br />
You will fight your entire life. And you have to keep fighting.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry I couldn't resolve all the issues that you had, and I'm sorry that I was responsible for creating more. But the thing to know is this: in the past you were a fighter. You knew how to learn from the things that happened to you, and you knew the importance of keeping an open mind and trying to loosen up and let go.<br />
<br />
I read some of those older posts and I realize I still struggle with the same thing. But... things take time. Not every issue is fixed simply by getting older. Some things you have no control over, and mental illness really knows how to muck everything up for sure, but sometimes you have to realize... maybe you do have control over this.<br />
<br />
This is what I am learning. And I'm going to try my best to use everything that we both have learned.<br />
<br />
Mkay. That's it. Now it's the end.<br />
<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-32719251893869474182015-08-16T14:59:00.000-04:002015-08-16T14:59:04.979-04:00The end.Hey friends. I'm still here and I'm still alive, but I'm officially going to retire this blog. I still keep extensive journals and I, frankly, still obsessively write down every little thing that happens in my life. It's just not online anymore, because fuck that noise.<br />
<br />
I might try to get published on Thought Catalog and if I do, maybe I'll do an epilogue post directing anyone still lingering here around, but if not, I'll see you turnips later. It's crazy to know that this blog has been around for nearly 7 years. That's like... a third of my life, jesus.<br />
<br />
Anyway. Everything will be immortalized. Since I've lost most of my 2012 journals, this is pretty much the only record that I have left. The sidebar is pretty much stuck in 2013.<br />
<br />
I mean, I looked back at all this shit and... it was a super blast from the past, yo. A lot of it is entirely cringe-worthy. I feel ... completely different.<br />
<br />
Older.<br />
<br />
More than anything, I feel older. I just have a different perspective. All my bitching about James and Kaitlin and everything... it's way gone.<br />
<br />
The shit with Colin disappoints me the most. It still feels raw to me. I haven't found anyone else. I had a one night stand with some guy. Me and Colin had more sex after this. He's still dating Rebecca. I'm still viciously bitter about this. Somehow, we're still friends.<br />
<br />
But the dog is still dead and I'm the one that fucking kept it. I have a dead fucking dog rotting and decaying in my rib cage. that's what this still feels like, and honestly, it's disappointing that this situation is really not much better. So, to past me, I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
So that's an update. And that's where I'm leaving this blog. Until next time, if there is a next time, goodbye, friends. It's been ... enlightening.<br />
<br />
The end.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-15143455255167104222014-02-12T16:55:00.001-05:002014-02-12T16:55:18.264-05:00Hi.I'm still alive.<br />
<br />
Sucking at it.<br />
<br />
But alive.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-59525775482732826552013-08-01T13:55:00.003-04:002013-08-01T13:55:58.512-04:00bored.<span style="color: #e69138;">bored</span><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-size: x-large;"> bored</span> <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">bored</span> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">bored<span style="color: red;"> </span></span><span style="color: red;">b</span><span style="color: orange;">o</span><span style="color: yellow;">r</span><span style="color: lime;">e</span><span style="color: cyan;">d</span> <span style="color: blue;">b</span><span style="color: purple;">o</span><span style="color: magenta;">r</span><span style="color: purple;">e</span><span style="color: blue;">d</span> <span style="color: cyan;">b</span><span style="color: lime;">o</span><span style="color: yellow;">r</span><span style="color: orange;">e</span><span style="color: red;">d </span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">bored</span> <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">bored </span><span style="color: red;">bored</span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-small;"> bored </span><span style="color: red; font-size: xx-small;">bored</span><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;"> bored</span><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> bored </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">bored</span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;"> bored </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large; font-style: italic;">b</span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;">o</span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large; font-style: italic;">r</span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>e</i></span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: italic;">d </span><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">b</span><span style="font-size: large;">o</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">r</span>e<span style="font-size: xx-small;">d</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ugh I'm bored. Now that word just looks like a noise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, I have two jobs now. And they keep scheduling me for the same day because for whatever reason it's written in the stars that i will never get a normal, regular work schedule. ugh ugh ugh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I get to work at 5pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On an unrelated note, my sister is helping her boyfriend's family clean their garage, because he's leaving for college in like a week or two. She came home looking for a mop. We didn't have any mops, but we did have some dusters that looked like they hadn't been used in 20 years so we sacrificed them to the cause.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">ok our garage is so messy i'm terrified of my parents suddenly dying because that'd mean I'd have to clean it. Our garage is full of shit that probably hasn't been touched since the 80's no joke. So we came up with a plan- we'd clean most of the house and get the stuff we care about out, then we'll "accidentally" burn it down. I'm sure that the insurance companies would feel terrible for us. Just lost our parents and then in our time of grief lost our house too. I mean we'd have to pay for someone to clear up all the rubble... but at least we wouldn't get tetanus or other strange infections from the depths of the garage lol. </span>Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-70725310594744639512013-07-14T23:57:00.002-04:002013-07-14T23:57:58.137-04:0010 ways to get better.Okay, I haven't done a 10 on sunday in like 2308471 years. So here's 10 ways I'm getting better. Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, academically, the whole 9 (or a million) yards.<br />
<br />
1. I'm getting healthy. For real. No more bullshit. I'm exercising daily, like doing these girly-ass-yet-super-effective-and-actually-kinda-kickass Blogilates videos and running and going to the gym and stuff. also I'm food journaling, which means taking pictures of stuff before I eat it and writing everything down and totaling and calculating and stuff to keep myself healthy, and I'm just eating healthier in general. I've been doing this all summer but now I'm really kicking it up cause I wasn't getting any results.<br />
<br />
2. I'm gonna do more shit for myself. I am a grown ass lady now and I can do more stuff. I'm gonna take my own sorry skin to the doctor when I think I break my toe. I'm gonna buy my own medicine and order my pills for myself. I'm gonna buy my own stuff for my apartment next year and pay my own rent and my own bills and manage my own budget. Yes. I'm a big girl now. And I'm also gonna open letters like an adult and not like tyrannosaurus rex.<br />
<br />
3. I will try harder in my classes. Next year I'll be taking 19 hours as well as possibly balancing two jobs. My parents are also paying out of the ass for me to have a nice apartment and I should probably show my appreciation by number 2 and also getting good grades.<br />
<br />
4. I'm going to let things go more. I always linger on things that haunt me. I need to let go of all my little demons. They can't hurt me if they're not around.<br />
<br />
5. No more lying. I'm going to tell the truth more to people. I always have this web of lies around me because I feel like it makes me feel safe, but really, it just makes me feel more isolated and alone. I really hope I can stick with this.<br />
<br />
6. I'm going to go running more, because I feel like it's a healthier way to deal with pent up anger, or panic.<br />
<br />
7. I'm going to be nicer. I'll be more generous and a better listener and complimentary and I should probably curse less too lol<br />
<br />
8. I'm gonna recycle more and learn my shit. Environmental science is my major, after all.<br />
<br />
9. Somehow I need to figure out how to be sexier. Seriously though. I'm like the most awkward person alive, romantically speaking. I don't know how I'll accomplish this. Probably through further trial and error. sigh<br />
<br />
10. This is the most important one. I WILL NOT BE SELF DESTRUCTIVE. In my thoughts or in my actions. No more of that shit. I can't get better if I keep beating myself down.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-55544644242358233212013-06-20T19:04:00.002-04:002013-06-20T19:04:11.155-04:00A wild Cypress appears. Cypress uses BLOG REGULARLY.<div>
It's not very effective.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So here's an update of my life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-I don't feel like talking about most of it.</div>
<div>
-I'm mostly just tired.</div>
<div>
-I have a job that sucks at a pizza joint which I'm quitting within the next two weeks because it's full of shit and I might have a job at Chipotle lined up. I'm praying.</div>
<div>
-Literally nothing interesting in my life is going on aside from</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>most of my friends being more than 20 miles away, including several scattered across the state, and a few scattered across the world. </li>
<li>i'm taking a stats class which sucks.</li>
<li>most things suck and i actually really want to go back to school.</li>
</ul>
<div>
kbye. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-72819146400993048152013-05-14T14:38:00.003-04:002013-05-14T14:38:40.248-04:00hi.just letting you all know i'm still alive, and too lazy to post.<br />
nothing interesting has happened.<br />
later, assbutts.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-30274089688603928052013-03-10T17:57:00.002-04:002013-03-10T17:57:46.743-04:00I'm going to be better.<br />
I'm going to kick fucking ass.<br />
I can do this.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-70102928359659674802013-03-03T23:35:00.002-05:002013-03-03T23:35:36.887-05:0010 healthy things.So I'm back haha. And it's spring break. And it's Sunday.<br />
To keep up with this moving pictures trend I seem to be making, here.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Fp6WucBbYgW91w2u1taymOobKRDOlKyluHahKCllvLW92Z6-cTIzX5Feq07Pp-tc_on-2hsq5uCAjWhr9aGiJuo-eALTcygaDozrQBX-q0mYtMvj0JoZxMPxopgXXg_tVqeOPjc8fyc/s1600/week+sunday.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Fp6WucBbYgW91w2u1taymOobKRDOlKyluHahKCllvLW92Z6-cTIzX5Feq07Pp-tc_on-2hsq5uCAjWhr9aGiJuo-eALTcygaDozrQBX-q0mYtMvj0JoZxMPxopgXXg_tVqeOPjc8fyc/s320/week+sunday.gif" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm done. <strike>not really</strike><br />
<br />
All right, so here's 10 healthy things I do with myself because I'm sick of feeling unhappy with my body <strike>and fat</strike>.<br />
<br />
1. I'm a vegetarian. Which makes it very easy to not eat fast food. I don't eat fast food. Or sodas. :D<br />
2. I work out! (see this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyx6JDQCslE) Maybe next week I'll post the shit I do. It's not very regular. It's just if I feel like it. Which is... half the time, usually when I'm supposed to be studying or when I'm in class or right as I'm about to go to bed.<br />
3. I walk everywhere, like 3-4 miles a day. College, bro. And I don't take elevators except to like 9th floors and stuff.<br />
4. I don't wear a lot of makeup or use lots of products, which in my mind, is healthy for your skin because you're not putting crap all over it.<br />
5. I'm pretty OCD about brushing my teeth and flossing.<br />
6. I don't skip meals. I used to feel tempted to do that all the time. My stupid ED creeping back up on me. But nope, I beat that bitch, and I eat something anyway.<br />
7. I don't keep junk food in my dorm.<br />
8. Out of all my friends, I have the best hearing. Honestly I realize maybe my dad is right. I listen to headphones at low volume, like he always told me, and I don't have any hearing damage. *shrugs* huh. I'm also crazy about wearing earplugs at concerts haha and all my friends give me a hard time for it but hey, I'm not deaf, bitches.<br />
9. On the subject of mental health, I'm learning to just say "fuck it" to things that don't matter.<br />
10. And I think going outside and spending time in the woods is healthy, which I do, so there. bye.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-33874023197554970582013-02-22T00:18:00.001-05:002013-02-22T00:18:33.311-05:00spshhhh. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Just kidding, I can't let go. </div>
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<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-16079997194347389072013-02-20T19:00:00.002-05:002013-02-20T19:03:57.274-05:00what is love? (baby don't hurt me... don't hurt me... no more...) Today I was reading a paper about shale oil for my environmental science class, and the following thought randomly occurred to me.<br />
<br />
I don't think you ever really <i>stop</i> loving anybody. I don't think there's such thing as falling out of love. If you really love somebody... I don't think that will ever die.<br />
<br />
Maybe you can say you loved somebody in the past, but maybe you were just blinded by something else you mistook for love, like lust or infatuation.<br />
<br />
I mean... for a long time I was never sure what I thought love is... but now I think I have a better idea (why shale oil made me think about this, I have no clue). I mean, I still don't think I can define it, but I'll try. So here goes. (Nazi-note: using poor grammar- "their" replaces "him/her" because i'm too lazy to type that out lol ;D)<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>When you love someone, their happiness is your happiness. When they're happy, it makes you happy. You'll do everything you can, including sacrifice your own happiness, to make them happy.</li>
<li>You smile when you see them, like, really smile. </li>
<li>You get truly angry at them.</li>
<li>But you forgive them.</li>
<li>and you give them another clean slate.</li>
<li>You want to take care of them. I guess this connects to the happiness thing.</li>
<li>You don't really give a shit about what they look like. It's great when they look cute but if they wear sweatpants or have a bad hair day or a zit or something, who gives a shit? Not you. You don't care if they fart in your presence. Whatever. </li>
<li>You can tease each other and point out each other's problems. You genuinely care about helping the other person to be their best.</li>
<li>You've seen them at their best and worst and you stay with them anyway.</li>
<li>Like, even if they make stupid mistakes, act like fools, or have a particularly annoying habit, you still care about them. </li>
</ul>
<div>
I don't know. Now I'm out of ideas.</div>
<div>
I kept telling myself I shouldn't love Colin.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now I'm like... </div>
<div>
What the hell? Why <i>should </i>I stop loving him? Love is a good thing. You can still love someone without exclusively focusing all of your energy on them. I can go about my life. I can date other guys. And I can still love him. Maybe it's not giving up; it's not forcing myself to change the way I feel and to beating myself up when I can't. It's living with it, accepting it, embracing it, and keeping on just living life. Not tied down by how I should or shouldn't feel. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
People have big hearts. Maybe we're capable of spreading love around to more than one person. Maybe we won't have just one great love in our lives. I mean, how lonely would that be. Maybe there are more, and maybe love doesn't have to end when the "relationship" does. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe in time I'll "get over" him and realize that perhaps it wasn't love after all. Maybe I won't. But I'm not going to let "love" tie me down anymore. Word on the street is, love is supposed to be a liberating feeling. Feeling caged by love, that's not what love does. That's what fear does. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So now I'm letting go of my fear. I'm not going to be afraid to feel the way I feel for him. I'm not going to fear that that was it, that was the end for us, and he's gonna marry some other chick. Who cares? That's nothing I can control and it can't change how<i> I </i>feel for him. That doesn't mean some part of him doesn't still love me too. (Which deep down, I know there is <i>some</i> part. Somewhere! He told me that, cryptically, a week or so back.) But if you love something, you can let it go and not be afraid. Letting go doesn't mean you have to stop caring.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
here goes nothing. </div>
<div>
*lets go*</div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*but doesn't stop loving*</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
thoughts?</div>
Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-64210659962518248892013-02-19T11:21:00.000-05:002013-02-19T11:21:42.346-05:00tuesdays are the worst days of the week.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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^my life.<br />
<strike>I feel like my blog is kind of turning into tumblr maybe i've been spending too much time on there</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>oh and also i'm sorry for my ups and downs i've been having a wonky month and i'm taking it out on this blog! Woohoo.</strike><br />
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<strike>ever wonder if you're crazy?</strike>Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-90080232500528499272013-02-14T12:44:00.002-05:002013-02-14T12:45:13.269-05:00so today,I just realized that I've been taking my birth control pills backwards for a week so now my emotions and shit are all like<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jYQdN-sNfJR_dcuarn6ZT357KOCs1rkYk9o0IpBZ_06qFUCDjGl3RG0oLGoUVGKBE_-FmY7_CCLgu-8zEqGVPFEJqzTzmri1NdBHb_gaBjybGuzWbkYqf4XEWyOvJNVRVamsHTMZWkQ/s1600/hahahahaha+NO.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jYQdN-sNfJR_dcuarn6ZT357KOCs1rkYk9o0IpBZ_06qFUCDjGl3RG0oLGoUVGKBE_-FmY7_CCLgu-8zEqGVPFEJqzTzmri1NdBHb_gaBjybGuzWbkYqf4XEWyOvJNVRVamsHTMZWkQ/s1600/hahahahaha+NO.gif" /></a></div>
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And it happens to be Valentines day. Not that I care. Feeling left out on February 14 is really no different than feeling left out every day of the year.</div>
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gahhhhhh. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhLZET3eHpPp922FVNkvmBpBPsht4oaO6QESm9tT5ZlfnANPV5Bzhcj9aSeHLcPKdVRcCd65DJsosdN1mk8OEues-m8qYrHetnxH-XdWID-IswloDonanJi80mlmiG5CghnR3QNeRv5c/s1600/i+cant+feels.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhLZET3eHpPp922FVNkvmBpBPsht4oaO6QESm9tT5ZlfnANPV5Bzhcj9aSeHLcPKdVRcCd65DJsosdN1mk8OEues-m8qYrHetnxH-XdWID-IswloDonanJi80mlmiG5CghnR3QNeRv5c/s1600/i+cant+feels.gif" /></a></div>
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Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-64710124691824715282013-02-08T23:24:00.003-05:002013-02-08T23:24:59.090-05:00that's funny because i found this on tumblr but it's actually exactly how i feel.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA33Gpd7A2uDl1-ci78DLnSJ3rFApYp7j5uEQp5qN8bzOpzTFK7prI2VcY9DV5pmWd0zep3WIqnQzTFZtg9jGIicT-nDEAy5nt9XroMrEm4Kc8e0nrEmVMiPCCN1SyhiPJ0_H_eGoqH50/s1600/tumblr_mhw57zJcQ51qe52v7o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA33Gpd7A2uDl1-ci78DLnSJ3rFApYp7j5uEQp5qN8bzOpzTFK7prI2VcY9DV5pmWd0zep3WIqnQzTFZtg9jGIicT-nDEAy5nt9XroMrEm4Kc8e0nrEmVMiPCCN1SyhiPJ0_H_eGoqH50/s320/tumblr_mhw57zJcQ51qe52v7o1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-34623484569350024912013-02-03T15:33:00.000-05:002013-02-08T23:32:46.410-05:0010 (okay, 11) shits not given.So lately, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to convince myself to stop giving a shit. In fact, I even ordered this book off Amazon called Fuck It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way. The guy is basically saying that "fuck it" is the perfect Western way to describe the Eastern philosophies of letting go of attachment and desire to attain inner peace.<br />
<br />
Eh. Realistically speaking, I don't think I'll be able to exactly let go any time soon. But maybe I can cool the fuck off. Or just stop caring about other things to conserve my energy for other shit. Whatever.<br />
<br />
So here are things I currently do not give a shit about:<br />
<br />
1. Judgement about my diet. I'm a vegetarian. People judge me. I don't care. I don't have to explain myself. I do if they ask (it's primarily a personal choice- I just don't want to eat animals and if they press I'll explain every other reason). But I don't care if people think I'm a raving left-wing lunatic for it. Fuck em.<br />
<br />
2. Taste in music, books, etc. I used to think people would be weirded out by my music but whatever. I can like what I like without having to defend it. People call me a fangirl sometimes because I like nerdy shit like Star Wars and Doctor Who and Hitchhiker's and Supernatural and Harry Potter and all that. I also don't give a shit about anyone else's artistic or literary tastes. If you enjoy Twilight, that's cool. If all you read is Hemingway, also cool. If your iPod is primarily Nickelback and Justin Beiber, that's cool too. It really does not affect me what your tastes in art are.<br />
<br />
3. How many parties my friends go to that I don't even get invited to. Whatever. Partying is honestly not my thing anyway and just cause they're going out and having fun doesn't mean I can't have my own fun night in.<br />
<br />
4. Politics. I don't give a fuck about politics and naming your beliefs. If you believe something, vote for it. That's how I feel about that.<br />
<br />
5. Religion. Don't care. I have my set of beliefs. You have yours. I respect yours, but I don't care if you respect mine. If you think I'm a heretic, okay. Doesn't change my mind. No fucks given.<br />
<br />
6. Race, diversity, and all that shit. I don't give a hoot if you're purple. We don't live in the fucking 1960's and I wish people would stop making such a bfd about race.<br />
<br />
7. Body functions. Okay, maybe this is a little weird, but I think humans are fascinating. we are all very, very strange animals. And I love sensory proof that we exist and our little bodies are truckin' away without giving a shit about what goes on in our small social lives. Every human functions the same way (well, almost). Every human breathes. Every human poops. I'm kind of a five year old; I think burping, farting, itching, pooping, sneezing, etc. is all hilarious. I feel like most people would raise their eyebrows at a silent-but-deadly one but I'll high-five you. You have a fascinating, working body, man.<br />
<br />
And here are things I am in process of not giving a shit about:<br />
<br />
8. Fashion. I used to feel threatened by girls who dressed up nice all the time because I'd always feel inferior. I'm learning to not give a shit about that. Your clothes may say things about your stylistic preferences but it really doesn't say a damn thing about you. I'm learning not to judge by outward appearances. I'm learning to not give a fuck about wearing sweatpants. Whatever. There's a time and place for every outfit and when it don't matta, it don't matta.<br />
<br />
9. Texting. Some people text quickly, some don't. Sometimes people are busy. If someone doesn't text back it doesn't always mean they hate me. I'm gonna calm the hell down about texting. If I really need to talk to somebody I can call them. Also, how much somebody likes me cannot be reflected by how often they text first.<br />
<br />
10. My weight. I used to be all obsessive about being skinny. Now I think I'm just going to take care of my health. I'm not going to torture myself over exercising. I'm going to exercise because I want to, not because I'm forcing myself to. Also, I read once in some Cosmopolitan article or something that you look 20% more attractive to other people than you do to yourself. So maybe it's possible that I'm being a little hard on myself.<br />
<br />
And now for a bonus shit i'm learning not to give.<br />
<br />
11.<br />
<br />
Well.<br />
I don't know.<br />
I'm going to reserve this spot for not giving a shit about Colin and what he does.<br />
He's my friend, too, though, so it's hard to find a balance.<br />
I'll let you know how this goes.<br />
<br />
Ciao!Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-14323878996797760672013-02-02T10:59:00.000-05:002013-02-02T10:59:48.552-05:00Spoons.So I just babysat for an old babysitter (weird, I know). She watched me when I was 3 and now I get to return the favor for her two-year-old kid, Everett. <strike>And I made 40 bucks which is hella sweet!!!</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
Anyway, I just wanted to point out how refreshing little kids are. Everett is just the CUTEST thing; he's a little blonde toddler with grey eyes and he's obsessed with trains and milk and toes and everything is so fascinating to him.<br />
<br />
and he doesn't get how to use spoons. <i>Spoons</i>. How fascinating is it to realize that you have to teach somebody to use a spoon. I don't know. It's incredible. Everybody starts from scratch. Humans are so incredible. We have <i>spoons. </i><br />
<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-6701778290695283972013-01-27T23:07:00.001-05:002013-01-27T23:07:34.950-05:00I think I'm gonna rethink my life. At the moment I'm going through an existential crisis.<br />
<br />
I need to rethink my life, my choices, what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it. I want to get my shit together. I'm tired of being battered around by everyone else's bullshit.<br />
<br />
What I really want to do is move. I have never been happier than being up in the sky or out on an open road. I love moving. I love seeing the world. I love just sitting in a cafe and watching the world pulse around me. Everywhere in the world is fascinating and just waiting patiently for the rest of the world to notice that. I love getting on a bus and seeing the strangers. It's incredible to me that everyone in the world is living out their own life stories and while they look like extras to my life, I just look like an insignificant extra to them. I walk for an hour into the city just for a scene change. I love tramping around in the woods and creeks and I'm so tired of bullshit and routines and obligations.<br />
<br />
My parents keep nagging me to get a job and do something with my life. I'm trying. I have a free spirit but I'm so trapped. I'm stuck. Everything holds me back. Me most of all. I'm the biggest thing separating me from the world. People have always told me I'm an introvert, but maybe that's not true. Nobody ever listens so I've got it in my head that nobody actually cares so I just shut the hell up and squish it down.<br />
<br />
Out in the big world, nobody does care. You can do whatever the hell you want and nobody's gonna give a shit.<br />
I don't want to start over because that's scary. I was supposed to get out of my stupid town where everyone shared chocolate milk in kindergarten together. I was going to go to a gigantic school of 35,000 people and make lots of new friends and be wildly popular and not give a shit and I was going to be free and nobody could tell me what to do and I wouldn't worry about anyone judging me and shit.<br />
<br />
I see other people do that. Lots of my friends are going out and making more friends. Kaitlin has an entirely new group. i don't know why she even keeps me around, a lot. Even Colin can make new friends. Me, I'm the only one who hasn't moved on. I whine to myself that making friends is hard, and I'm shy and introverted and everyone always tells me I'm weird and awkward or whatever so I've got it in my head that I can't do it, I can't make new friends.<br />
<br />
I mean, who really give a shit. It's my turn to move the fuck on. I'm not in fucking high school anymore. I need to stop giving a damn what my parents think. I want to be young and live my life.<br />
<br />
I want to shed all my guilt and hurt and disappointment and insecurities and let the fuck go. Someday I'm going to learn that.<br />
<br />
What I really want to do is go on a huge road trip and see real America, like some fucking Jack Kerouac thing or fucking Charles Bukowski and just go all over the fucking place, drinking and fucking and camping and betting and writing. Being free. I want to ride with a biker gang because hell, biker gangs have probably got it right. The open road. that's what i want. i want to get the hell out of here. Everyone sucks.<br />
<br />
I want to hike up the Appalachian Trail. For real. All 2000 plus miles of it. It's a huge undertaking and I'll be tired as shit. Whatever. Get me the hell away from Facebook and fake bitches and texting.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'll be a flight attendant. Where you get paid to fly. I fucking love flying. I don't even care about dealing with all the high-maintenance public on airplanes and boring-ass safety briefings.<br />
<br />
I want to be really nice to strangers. I want to like, change someone's life. I want to chill with homeless people and take them to dinner and shit. the only problem would be what to do after, I mean, I don't want to just drop them off at their shopping cart or something. That'd be awkward. But really. I want to do nice things for people. I want to sell all my shit and help people.<br />
<br />
I want to stay in hostels and motels and drink stale coffee in local diners, and shower at truck stops and have picnics on the car hood on the side of the road, and i want to stargaze on blankets and laugh at tourists. I don't know. maybe I've been reading too many beatnik books but.<br />
<br />
Honestly this sounds stupid as shit but I'm giving a small fraction of a thought to becoming a whore. yeah tell me, oh honey, you don't want to do that, you'll fuck up your life and get an STD or whatever, and you're worth more than that. You know what? Don't judge people.<br />
<br />
And want to know a secret? Sex doesn't mean a thing to me anymore. I don't give a shit. The act of copulation is so stupid and simple it's ridiculous to me that people make such a big fucking deal about it. I just keep my mouth shut cause I don't want to offend anyone. I mean honestly the idea of porn and masturbation used to horrify and embarrass me, but now I don't really care. Everybody has their needs and everybody deals with them in different ways. Fucking deal with it.<br />
<br />
Maybe whores have got it right. Get paid to fuck and have some fun. Sell some love and make somebody else feel desirable for a night and walk away with 200 bucks. Be fleeting. Burn bright and then burn out. I mean, who wants to die old, wrinkled, and tired after life in a fucking cubicle anyway.<br />
<br />
Okay, maybe I don't really wholeheartedly mean all of this. I'm just having an existential crisis right now and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I can see myself spiraling into another hole again. I am so hanging the fuck onto that edge right now.<br />
<br />
Bye, friends!Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-81238203972528750592013-01-25T13:02:00.000-05:002013-01-25T13:02:12.551-05:00I was so close.When am I ever gonna learn to throw my hands in the air, fuck it, and walk away?<br />
<br />
God.Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-5216997041502284392013-01-24T23:34:00.001-05:002013-01-24T23:34:51.635-05:00Dorm Cooking (AKA, Get On My Level)This post is about my nonconventional cooking adventures involving a microwave, a hot water heater, and a poorly functioning refrigerator (as well as a completely broken pieceofshit blender). <div>
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RECIPE ONE: FAKE ICE CREAM (1) <i>which masquerades as being healthy</i></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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Greek yogurt</div>
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Frozen fruit</div>
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Sugar of any sort (read: out of packages stolen from coffee shops ok)</div>
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1. Microwave fruit to the point where biting a piece would not break your teeth. Should be slightly squishy to the touch, but not mushy.</div>
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2. Procure bowl. Add Greek yogurt and stir in sugar, any quantity you like. Add fruit and stir well.</div>
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3. Place bowl into freezer and wait. How long you wait depends on how well your freezer works. when it feels like ice cream, eat.</div>
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RECIPE TWO: FAKE ICE CREAM (2) <i>which doesn't even try to be healthy, really</i></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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Greek yogurt (or any yogurt, really, you don't have to be as big of a snob as me)</div>
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Chocolate syrup</div>
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Chocolate chips or whatever</div>
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Sugar if you want</div>
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1. Same thing as above. </div>
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RECIPE THREE: FAKE COOKIE DOUGH</div>
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Ingredients: </div>
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Flour</div>
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Peanut butter</div>
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Milk/Soymilk</div>
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Coffee creamer</div>
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Sugar</div>
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Chocolate chips</div>
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1. Just mix all the shit until it tastes remotely like cookie dough. this one's hard. </div>
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RECIPE FOUR: BREAKFAST TORTILLA</div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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Tortilla</div>
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Peanut butter</div>
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any fruit</div>
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1. Take tortilla and slather with peanut butter</div>
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2. Add fruit in a cute design or whatever</div>
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3. Roll it up and nom. </div>
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RECIPE FIVE: VEGGIE PASTA WITH CHEESE (kinda)</div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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Pasta</div>
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Water</div>
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Bag of mixed veggies</div>
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1. Boil water </div>
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2. Put veggies into a bowl with a little bit of water and microwave em</div>
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3. Put pasta into boiled water and put that in the microwave until noodles are softened</div>
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4. Combine your bowls</div>
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5. Strip up some string cheese and put it on top; hopefully it'll melt</div>
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RECIPE SIX: PEANUT BUTTER MOUSSE </div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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Greek yogurt</div>
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Peanut butter</div>
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Sugar</div>
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1. combine until satisfied</div>
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2. Freeze until satisfied</div>
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3. Eat that sucka</div>
Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-4220481855425139362013-01-20T10:31:00.000-05:002013-01-20T10:31:11.707-05:0010 things i do when i procrastinate.So here's something I haven't done in a long time. A Ten on Sunday. Here goes! What I do when I procrastinate:<br />
<br />
1. Check the following in the same order: phone, Facebook, email, blogger, tumblr, iwastesomuchtime, other email, then this fascinating site called allwomenstalk, fitocracy, calorie count.<br />
2. Eat. *sigh*<br />
3. Watch Supernatural. *sigh* I've convinced myself that once I finish it, I'll be able to return to normal life because I won't be consumed with the thought that <i>I Shouldn't Be Here I Must Watch Supernatural What Is This Bullshit, Peace</i><br />
4. Write in my journal.<br />
5. Make stupid videos where I talk to myself, usually because I'm bored and there's nobody to talk to. Embarrassing, but true.<br />
6. Make lists of all the things I'm gonna do but then don't.<br />
7. Complain about my hair. Actual restyling optional.<br />
8. Do ridiculous amounts of stretching.<br />
9. Clean like a severe OCD patient in a mental institution.<br />
10. Shave. I don't know what it is but there is an eerie correlation between the amount of unwanted hair on me and the amount of anti-productivity that occurs in any given day.<br />
<br />
And that's that.<br />
<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-72412747024839090632013-01-14T20:09:00.000-05:002013-01-14T20:09:20.323-05:00Revelation.I don't have time or energy for an artsy introduction or whatever to this<br />
so i'm just gonna say it.<br />
I think I'm my dad's favorite out of my two sisters. Let's be real. I'm a daddy's girl. He thinks I'm really smart and really funny and for whatever reason he's amazed by me and he can't stay mad at me and I've pretty much got him wrapped around my finger to get whatever I want. He thinks I understand him best and he and I like old stuff and the same music and the same movies and all that. He always puts me first.<br />
<br />
He's retired Navy. He loves kids. He's got a wicked temper. He likes manual-transmission cars. He likes classic rock. He has a strong sense of duty and responsibility. He can be awfully closed-minded and is a big-time creature of habit. He's stubborn. He can dish out jokes better than he can take them. He puts up this big tough-guy facade but really he's a big softie.<br />
<br />
Colin is the exact same way.<br />
I've known for a while that Colin and my dad are really, really similar.<br />
<br />
But I just now figured it out that maybe I'm clinging to Colin how I shouldn't be, like I'm expecting that because he's like my dad, he'll give me the same kind of love my dad gives me.<br />
<br />
Which is, I guess, a little fucked up, huh?Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-61396074826269181982013-01-08T12:38:00.001-05:002013-01-08T12:39:56.685-05:00so i'm at school again.Blah blah blah.<br />
I'm tired of being bored,<br />
<br />
So I guess it's time for me to make my own life interesting.<br />
<br />
I'm gonna get a new job.<br />
I'm gonna sign up for campus radio.<br />
I'm gonna start volunteering at the museum again.<br />
I'm gonna actually reach out and make some new friends this year.<br />
I'm not going to wear sweatpants every day and I will look like an approachable human being.<br />
I'm gonna actually kick some butt in my classes this year.<br />
And I'm gonna go running three days a week and quit feeling fat and fugly.<br />
<br />
Cool man!<br />
I feel like that was just sixty New Years Resolutions, but those are bullshit and i don't believe in them. Okay bye, friends!Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-47710564073029168602013-01-01T19:17:00.001-05:002013-01-21T09:53:00.811-05:00pause, more bitchery<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I
want everyone to shut the hell up and leave me alone. I hate when people ask me
questions. Everything I say gets used against me. I’m done with that. I’m done
opening up. I used to think communication was the best thing, but I feel like
my idea of good communication was me slashing myself open over and over and now
my insides are all over the place grossing everybody out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And
what’s weird is I’m dreading talking to my parents lately. It feels like all they ever
do is grill me with questions and tell me all the things I’m doing wrong in
life. So I just don’t want to talk to them. They ask me things about little
details in my day which gets totally annoying. I should be grateful that they’re
taking an interest in my life but little details leads to conversations and
somehow they always end up getting awkward. Somebody’s GOT to bring up the
topics of Colin or sex or both in the same sentence. I swear they know. I just
want to let it go. How can I let go of him if nobody else will let me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I just ate dinner with my family and case in point. Always we end up talking
about my apartment next year and the topic of Colin and me playing house or
whatever came up and I blushed and my mother and her fucking big mouth just HAD
to say “yeah, it was like kissing her cousin, she’s over that now.” Like my dad
must have already known because he didn’t even blink. She totally told him. I’m
gonna fucking kill her I swear to God. It’s like they’re all testing me to see
my reactions to jokes like this. Then mom started trying to tell this thing she
read about how you can tell how compatible you are with someone by your saliva
and then dad had to go and fucking comment that I was so red my BOOBS were
blushing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fuck that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm done with 2012 and I want it to stop following me around NOW.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy new year, bitches!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">:)</span></div>
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<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-20183264408281656302012-12-30T15:10:00.001-05:002013-01-08T12:43:30.028-05:00i really kinda whine a lot,haha sorry :/<br />
<br />Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9210281263281127291.post-90875139784641742812012-12-27T22:25:00.001-05:002012-12-27T22:25:43.732-05:00Here's something intriguing. I think I might have a suppressed memory.<br />
<br />
First of all, isn't that incredible?! The human mind is amazing, how you can block things from yourself. I thought that it's possible these sorts of things could be made up, but then I was like, whoa, when I looked at myself.<br />
<br />
So here's this. I have an abnormally good memory of my childhood. Probably the earliest thing I can remember is being two years old in an elevator at the hospital with my dad. I was wearing an "I'm a big sister now" t-shirt, and it was when my first sister was born in 1996. My first vivid memory was when I was three years old on a plane. I remember the fluffy clouds going by. I'd been sitting with my dad and my mom and baby sister were several rows behind us. He went back to check on them and I remember being terrified, but there was a nice man on the aisle seat who talked to me to cheer me up.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the memory in question is when my grandfather died in 2002. I was eight years old, in third grade. Most of 3rd grade I remember pretty clearly, except for a few months in the middle. that's where it gets fuzzy, which is weird since most of my elementary school memories are pretty clear.<br />
<br />
I remember when my mother was shouting, "goodbye daddy" to her hard-of-hearing father on the phone downstairs. I was standing in the upstairs hallway. I didn't understand what was happening. I remember when she sat down on my bed and told me he had died. I don't remember anything else. Apparently we drove to Florida to go to the funeral, which I don't remember. The only memory I have is a flash: a yellow couch with flowers on it.<br />
<br />
Apparently, when we got back home, I had a test that I had to take which would put me in the Academically Gifted (AG) program if I got a certain score. I didn't score very well on it. Both my sisters made it into AG, but I never did. The first "advanced" class I took was in high school.<br />
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I don't remember anything about the funeral or the test. My dad was talking to me about how my mother harbors some resentment towards him from that time and they still haven't cleared it up. He says I should clear things up with her because she doesn't get over things well. It's a long story what happened between them but he says it was about putting the kids first instead of her. He thinks that if I don't remember any of that mess, it might be because I repressed it. Now he's with mom thinking that I'm psychologically messed up- he thinks that I have pent up anger or something at not making the AG program and I always feel stupid and inadequate because of that test, or like I'm the source of people's problems from my parents fighting over me.<br />
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It's possible. I'd rather not blame my issues on some past thing I don't even remember that might not even be relevant to all this. I wonder if I really did repress that, though. Is that weird or what?Cypresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06745507383219024801noreply@blogger.com0