Indecision

I don't like to answer the question of how I am doing. Such a simple question. But its like a crossroads answer. If you tell them "yes, Im good" then the other person will think you are good and will leave you be. Whereas on the other hand, if you tell them the truth, "No I am not okay, I am far from okay." They will respond with concern and bother you and ask what is wrong when all I want to do is curl up in a ball a disappear and not be bombarded with these stupid questions that wont help me at all. I should just lie and avoid everything. But it just takes so much effort to keep being fake happy. Dammit.

Let’s stop saying we’re fine

We all want to know, how it ends.

Oh, happily ever after, wouldn't you know, wouldn't you know.
Oh, skip to the ending, who'd like to know, I'd like to know.
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?

"You know that feeling, when you can actually feel your heart breaking. Like the only solid thing inside you that is keeping you sane, is slowly tearing apart? And when you know your going to cry, and your cheeks start to feel hot, and you start to shake and then the tears come, and they dont stop. And its almost like your body has lost control and you just cant feel anything anymore. Your numb. And empty. And cold. And you cant fix it, the truth is, no one can. And now your stuck, feeling like a mess and wanting to just die right there and then, but no one knows this and no one cares, because your alone. And you always will be."

Curse weekday holidays

Can I just skip school on this Halloween so I can spend all day adventuring for 90% off sales and then spend the rest of the day getting free candy in my cool beans Nutella costume?

I lie. Lie Lie Lie lalala Lie.

The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than the living size then they’re brought out.
— Stephen King

I need people to just be mind readers so I don't have to explain my way out of things. I have a horrible way of explaining my way out of things because I recently realized I have this hideous habit of lying. And its not just small little white lies I pop out on a casual day to day basis; it includes big lies, stretched lies, believable lies where even I forget they're lies in the first place. And sometimes, they're not even the most important things either. But they become lies that grow bigger and bigger until I get caught up in them and then someone gets hurt or my mind goes crazy and I confess anyways, and someone still gets hurt. Why do I do this? I really have no idea. I try my best to be as honest and keep things running smooth, but something always slithers out and I end up saying the wrong thing. I need to stop. Not because I think its some great sin or because it's wrong, but because of how much I've realized it ends up hurting people, maybe even myself (and how I do very much care about not hurting other people). I don't really catch myself in the act. And I dont really feel it affect me until the act is done and its too late, my heart beats fast and then my conscience gets all over my business again pointing fingers, shouting "YOU LIED YOU LIED YOU DID IT AGAIN YOU HORRIBLE SOUL YOU." I just watch myself do it. Spectators view.

So in order to repent from my dirty dirty habit, I have decided to keep a Lie Journal. It's quite brilliant actually. Next time I notice myself lying, I will write it down, the exact lie, context, day & time it took place. At least Im trying. Maybe then I'll notice how much I lie and it'll help my word vomit stop from coming out before I can stop myself. Some things just don't need to be said.

There needs to be a facebook thing for Dads who dont keep in touch with their children, so that when its their birthday, the children dont have to make an awkward phone call to say Happy Birthday, but rather just type the same thing on facebook and get it over with. Awkwardness aside.

My cream puffs deflated.

If doing the right thing is so great, then why do I feel so horrible? I hate doing the right thing. It bothers me so much. People ask for too much. I wish the right thing didnt always get in the way of what I actually want. I wish I can just do whatever I please without anyone else questioning my motives. I wish this situation wasn't so difficult. I wish I could miss you. But I cant. And I know wishing is a waste of time. Its unproductive. I hate it. I hate it. Staying home alone all day isnt helping either. More Okkervil River to calm my needs.

I want someone to cheer me up. In a way where I dont have to talk about my problems, because 1) I cant talk about my problems 2) talking about them does jack. I want to just be insanely difficult to this person. Be extremely stubborn and selfish and bring them down with me so they can feel the pain Im feeling. And deep down I will know that none of this attempt to cheer me up will even work. Because I know no one can cheer me up. Not even myself.

At times, I can relate to every single novel or play we read in class.

"At times, Edna is optimistic about her future and places her trust in the promise of youth. On other days, she stays indoors and broods, feeling that life is passing her by."

Citizens! I am at a predicament! October is here and every single meaningless conversation that goes on in this disgusting city seems to revolve around one thing only: college. I look around and people are already getting student resumes filled out, teacher recommendation letters requested and a list of 4+ colleges they plan to attend. I am taking apart of none of this. Am I missing out? Is this lack of college app stress going to be a problem? Unlike most people, I know exactly what college is destined for me. But for some reason, this brooding black cloud of apprehensive indecision hovers relentlessly in the back of my mind, telling me that my choice is going to be the biggest mistake of my life (dramatic, I know). These are the reasons:

-My set school is going to be at Cal Poly Pomona. And that's it. No other options or backups. And why not, right? Its the 2nd in the nation for my major, 5 min away thus no need to dorm, affordable, 99% guaranteed acceptance, and overall... not a bad school. But it depresses me to no end, knowing that if I choose cal poly, I will be subjecting myself to another 4 years of living in this uneventful town I hate so very very much. I want to see new faces. For several years I have been venting, pleading, dreaming about moving away from the faces I have grown so numb and accustomed to. But if I go to cal poly, what then?
-I look at my sister and I realize, Im turning into her. Unconsciously of course. But the things that are going on in my life are a lot like the events she went through, just in different context. And now Im going to be applying to the same school she will be at. This thought repulses me to no end. I used to think, I will never be like her. Im going to move out and live in some place with nice weather and not be ruled by parents like a powerless teenager. But here I am, going to be stuck at home, just like her. Oh god.
-People can easily destroy my pride and it is usually the small things that destroy it the most. The other day, I was running a Silva errand with my TA buddy. We went up to our old feminist english teacher to turn in the paper and in the meantime, thought "why not?" and asked "Can you write us a teacher recommendation?" Sure no problem (smile) She says. "What schools are you applying to?" Answer: Boston University. Reply: Oh really? Wow thats great! And you? Answer: Cal Poly Pomona. Reply: (silence with a disapproving face) Why? You can do so much better than that! END I dont know whether to be offended or complimented. That's the relationship I have with her. I never know whether to be offended or complimented. I have the grades and creativity to pursue "higher" schools, she says. But somehow, cal poly seems to stick. But one quote that will always stick: "You know Kyra, there's the naturally smart kids, and then there's the creative ones. I think youre the creative one." You decide. Complimented or offended? I know I shouldn't be so bothered by this one gesture, this one moment of disapproving silence, but I am. I must stop getting so discouraged so easily. It's the same with my parents. They support me in whatever decision I make, thankfully, but I can tell behind their assurance that they don't want my stakes set only for the "easy route". Like it's not good enough pride to talk about in their conversations with other adults.
-And lastly, Im still not fully certain about my major. All these college app mentors and glcs tell us that we shouldn't apply to a college for a specific major simply because we are only so young, and we don't know what we want in life yet. At this moment, I am at least more than 80% sure restaurant managing is the major I was meant the have. And simply because I get inspired easily. I just sat in a restaurant one day, and just ... was at peace. I wanted to spread this feeling for everyone by owning a restaurant of my own. I felt I could contribute to other people’s happiness if I could just provide good food and atmosphere. Is that idea so hard to believe? The simplicity of it all, the easy route; people don't understand for some reason. Especially feminist english teachers.
-Even with all these inspired passions, I still can't help but wonder, what the hell am I going to do with my life? (Sorry there's really no other word to explain it)

Well that's enough rhetorical thoughts for one night. Until next time.

We have a new permanent guest living in our house at the moment. Her name is Sin. She's from New York and Chicago, has short choppy hair, thick framed glasses and wears long pants overalls. She makes great fajitas. She likes to make documentary films and writes screenplays. We talk about movies, road trips and thrift shopping. She is quiet an interesting character. Im glad she isn't one of those untrustworthy strangers that steal our mail and eat our cereal in the middle of the night. The only problem is the ever growing progression to the disgustingness of our downstairs guest bathroom. No matter! She's like the sister I should have had. And the best part of it is, she loves guacamole.
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There are two types of sadness (well at least for me). The mind stalking sadness, and the random sadness. If I had to choose, I would rather have the random sadness. Because then I'd know that whatever it is that's making me feel this way is just an illusion and that Im just worrying my mind till it wants to do something stupid.

"It takes 500 pounds too crush the human skull, but the human emotion is a much more delicate thing."