A Journal

My tattoo artist is a really intelligent, insightful guy. He seems genuinely happy, which is hard to find. And funny as hell. He’s awesome to work with. 

I’m really fat. People have fat days, but my whole life has been a fat day lately. And Christmas makes me want to eat all the things. I’m disgusting.

My acne is being a bitch. I’m going to have scars. I feel like a diseased teenager.

Work called earlier today. They want me to drive 2 1/2 hours back down to Lexington to work three hours next Tuesday. Really? Fuck you.

Amazon let me order all of my textbooks, then emailed me the next day to inform me that one was out of stock. Why did you let me order it if it wasn’t there?

No one ever talks to me. I feel like a nuisance.

I feel like I’ve made it really obvious. Break up with your girlfriend, who you don’t really like anyway (or so you say), and do me. I’m finally ready and you won’t do anything about it. Asshole.

I can’t spell worth a shit. But I’m a grammar Nazi. Spelling and grammar aren’t the same thing and I’m not retarded if I can’t spell things.

Also, I’m not retarded for asking about absentee voting this early. Every time I’m in town, it’s either a weekend or a holiday and the courthouse is closed. I realize there isn’t an election until May. I just needed to know what the fuck to do when May gets here, bitch.

My mother never listens to me. I’ll tell her something and three minutes later she’ll repeat it, almost verbatim like it was her thought.

I haven’t been on Tumblr much over break because I don’t want Mom to know it exists.

My hands are really dry, even though all I do is put on lotion.

I sneeze too much because my house is dusty and Mom never cleans.

I fucking hate my job.

I miss my puppy. She always wore antlers for Christmas. She looked so pretty.

My printer doesn’t work because I caught it on fire a few years ago, but we still haven’t gotten rid of it.

I am so fucking fat in these pants.

There is so much to do before I go back to Lexington, but I can’t seem to get any of it done. The world doesn’t want me to do anything.

Why am I not legal to drink?

I’m the biggest idiot at Transy. At a study group for Arts of Hell, they were discussing ACT scores. One guy got over 30 in the seventh grade. Why am I so inadequate?

My nail polish looks bad.

I just want to be out of school, get an apartment and a puppy, and start my career.

It was weird, but good. Not having Mimi around sure was different, but it was okay. I miss that crazy old woman.

Mom and I are making our own Christmas dinner in a bit and Sarah is coming over for Wife Christmas tonight.

TrueBlood marathon with Christina Tuesday night and my second tattoo Wednesday.

All in all, a pretty good winter break.

I’m at my uncle’s house. My grandma’s funeral was this morning. I cried so hard. My head is throbbing.

Three loads of laundry= productivity

Searched for sources for a research paper= I’m cool

Date= not happening again

Arts of Hell study session= extremely helpful

Shower= I smell good

Finishing paper= go me

Sleep= death

I’m really crushing on someone, then I hate them, then I’m crushing, then I hate them.

But what I’ve realized is that the people who are actually right for me, I never hate. I adore every single thing they do. Nothing is ever weird or awkward.

I should take this as a warning sign. Tomorrow shouldn’t happen.