Winter...

I should know who I am by now... I walk the record stand somehow... Thinkin' of winter... The name is the splinter inside me... While I wait... And I remember the sound of your November downtown... And I remember the truth... A warm December with you... But I don't have to make this mistake... And I don't have to stay this way... If only I would wake...

Alright already... enough with the melodramatic blogs. Ugh, I read them and think "do you have to write every bad thought?" I guess the answer is yes. Yes, I do have to write every bad thought because if I let them all sit inside my brain, it would explode. Does writing it out make me feel better? Yes and no. Yes, because obviously it gets the bad out... but no because when I reread them I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. So it's a little bit of a draw there...

I'm glad I write things out because on a day like today when I'm feeling ok I look back and try and improve on all the stuff that bothers me. I realize that I am a puzzle. But I'm not like one of those 6 piece 3 year old puzzles... I'm one of those 1,000 piece landscape puzzles. You know what I'm talking about. The ones where the majority of the 1,000 pieces are green and you're supposed to figure out how the fuck they fit together. Yup, that's me. I'm that puzzle. I'm ok with being that puzzle I guess. I don't ever want to be too easy to figure out. It would take away my mysterious edge... right.

See I'm a "dark and twisty" kind of girl. If you tell me to be somewhere on time, I can't do it. There's like a little switch in my head that's like "NOPE" whenever someone tells me something I have to do. It's like, just for spite, I can't do it. I feel like I'm in control if I do things the way I want to. I've found that being this rebellious little twit only pisses people off and I only end up having to defend myself. Which is totally stupid. Problem is, I can't fix that switch. It's a control thing.

I'm overly neurotic about the cleanliness of my house. Calling it a house is pretty funny. It's a studio apartment that is right on top of another studio apartment with a 400 pound beast living in it. Anyway, cleaning my house is one of the only things I have control over. So I clean all the time. I guess that's not really a bad thing. It's better than letting my stupid little house be covered in shit. I just cling to the things that I can control because there aren't many. I can't control a lot of things in my life. In fact, the majority of my life is controlled by others. I often conform to the dictation of others, even if it makes me wretch. It's that fear thing that I always talk about. I'm so afraid of not being accepted and so I do what people want me to do. Most of the time. I do, however, find a way to do whatever I'm being asked to do my way... again, whatever I can control, I try my hardest to do so.

Back to the puzzle of me... here's a good example of that little switch in my head in action. 2 weeks ago the 400 pound beast downstairs came up and rang my bell. That would make it the 5th time she's come up here to complain about something and I have lived here for a year and a half. Anyhoo... she comes up to tell me she hears a banging sound. I was laying on my bed watching TV before she rang so I know she's lying. She starts shooting the shit with me and asks me if I notice that my floor squeaks. I look at her like she is a fucking lunatic and I reply "this building is like 80 years old and a train passes behind it every half hour... I imagine it's pretty normal that the floors squeak." She then tells me she's having her ceiling fixed and she might tell them that my floor squeaks and might want to see if they can fix it. I whatever her. She then asks if I could just be more aware of the noises the floor makes when I get in bed because it seems to be that the most squeaking is around my bed. Aside from the fact that her saying that is totally fucking creepy... I say sure.

Now... here's the fun part. Remember that little switch? Here's what that little switch has done. Every night before I get in bed, subconsciously, I walk around my bed like 10 times. And it's not until I get into bed that I realize what just happened. I find myself walking into my apartment and finding all the squeakiest parts of my floor and walking back and forth on them. Can't you see that my halo is being held up with horns? I can't help it. It's a control thing.

I didn't say I was normal. In fact, I try to steer clear of normal. Normal sucks. I put on a normal front, but really I enjoy being abnormal. I enjoy having a little spice in me that makes me different from the rest of the chumps on wall street. I need to start enjoying my life more. I need to start realizing that although I feel like a moron the majority of the time... there are so many people who are so oblivious. And I'm glad I'm neurotic and weird because it makes me the little black sheep amongst all the boring white ones.

And so I'm not going to delete the last 2 posts because they will remind me to embrace who I am. Even when I'm at my worst. Sometimes it sucks being a victim, especially when you're the one victimizing yourself. But I'm not going to play into it anymore. Well, at least time going to try real hard not to let little things get to me. I'm going to continue to be me and be ok with it. I'm not as bad as I say I am. I'm still going to drift off to my dream world though. It makes me really happy.

Oh, and just for the record... Matthew Gray Gubler still rocks my socks. And the new black eye he's sporting makes him look even more delicious... rawr.

Have a lovely evening...

Thanks for reading...