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I rather like using my (admittedly) numerous journals to bitch about my life, if only to keep me from doing so in real life. I live a rather charmed life, but like all (or at least most) teenagers, my hormones and easily depressive mentality keep me from fully appreciating that fact. Again, even as I try to objectively pick myself apart.
It's a strange feeling, you know? Feeling something, then immediately stepping back and analyzing where it came from, why I'm feeling it, how to stop it; then to slip back into my feelings and ruin all the objectivity I had achieved. I'm not entirely sure I like to feeling of detached-ness it inspires within me, but I find myself disinclined to stop the behavior. Mostly because it would involve a lot of self-discipline that I find myself severely lacking. And, as I delve deeper into the complexities and inanities of my mind, I find my prose becomes much more flowery and eloquent. At least, compared to the usual dribble that spews from my mouth in the presence of others. My speech is always more... detailed and delicate sounding when it is just myself and/or my keyboard. Why this is, I truly have no idea. Maybe because I have no need to worry about whether or not others will understand the more complex words and wording I am wont to use. Perhaps its just because I have the intense need to prove to myself that I am more than the brash (and possibly crass) girl I seem to come across as to most people. Probably to assure myself that I'm not as stupid as make myself seem to fit in more with my peers.
And now I'm drifting off into things no one wants to here, so we'll (oh, the royal we) keep this journal to a minimum now. Although, I have already defeated that purpose, haven't I? No matter, I shall leave you, my likely invisible and nonexistent readers, to ponder and mock what I have laid out here. Au revoir.
It's a strange feeling, you know? Feeling something, then immediately stepping back and analyzing where it came from, why I'm feeling it, how to stop it; then to slip back into my feelings and ruin all the objectivity I had achieved. I'm not entirely sure I like to feeling of detached-ness it inspires within me, but I find myself disinclined to stop the behavior. Mostly because it would involve a lot of self-discipline that I find myself severely lacking. And, as I delve deeper into the complexities and inanities of my mind, I find my prose becomes much more flowery and eloquent. At least, compared to the usual dribble that spews from my mouth in the presence of others. My speech is always more... detailed and delicate sounding when it is just myself and/or my keyboard. Why this is, I truly have no idea. Maybe because I have no need to worry about whether or not others will understand the more complex words and wording I am wont to use. Perhaps its just because I have the intense need to prove to myself that I am more than the brash (and possibly crass) girl I seem to come across as to most people. Probably to assure myself that I'm not as stupid as make myself seem to fit in more with my peers.
And now I'm drifting off into things no one wants to here, so we'll (oh, the royal we) keep this journal to a minimum now. Although, I have already defeated that purpose, haven't I? No matter, I shall leave you, my likely invisible and nonexistent readers, to ponder and mock what I have laid out here. Au revoir.
Lady Gaga and what IT means...
Listening to the two Lady (coughMANcough) Gaga songs that I have, I've come to a conclusion as to why I like her lyrics. She is a crazy bitch and not afraid to show it. Blatantly sexual and whatnot, she's like the inner dominatrix that every woman wishes she could unleash. Frankly, I think it's simultaneously hilarious and excellent.
While this journal is in no way me showing support for her music, I AM enjoying myself over the lyrics that she comes up with. Bad Romance playing in the background, with Poker Face lyrics lilting somewhere in my mind, I'm not sure if she likes abusive relationships, or if she enjoys a bit (or a lot) of bondage.
Excuse me while I BITCH
I have already failed my new year's resolution. Did five minutes after the ball dropped, actually. I started biting my nails. It's been this way ever since I was seven. I'm almost sixteen now. This blows.
Moving on from depressing failure, the school term has started up after a week long delay. I am rather excited about this prospect, if only because most of the classes I have this semester I am going to thoroughly enjoy. AP Psych and Intermediate Drawing are drawing the most happiness, while French II and Chemistry I are drawing much disdain. French isn't the language I wanted to learn, so that is understandable. I also dislike chemistry be
Failure
Whelp, once again I have managed to out-do myself on the failure front during November. I'm getting a serious case of senioritis (ironic cuz I'm not a senior), I've gotten even fewer words Nano-wise than last year, and I'm tanking on gift ideas to knit for the family coming over. I have truly outdone myself. Brava, brava.
Anyhoo, like I said I'm running out of steam here. I'm not sure whether I'm just getting teenage listlessness or becoming depressed. Every since my coach ruined volleyball for me, I've been in this funk and I can't do anything. Write, draw, read, the works! All I can do is knit which, while productive and semi-comforting, d
Devious Journal Entry
I'm completely and totally ready to slap myself. Every year since my sixth grade year, I have gotten prepped and ready to some extent for Nanowrimo by September and early October. This year? Not so much. It just hit me YESTERDAY that Nanowrimo starts in a week and I HAVE NOTHING PREPARED. Now, I'm scrambling for an idea to write in time for the kick off.
Now I'm angry. Excuse me while I keep this short and continue idea storming. >:(
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