181 days since my last non-nytimes photo spam entry. last time, my friend died. today is tuesday - no significance. Just like the fact that there has been no significant events recently that have happened to me, but I am, just the same, so worn down. So frustrated. For lack of a better phrase, and as much as I would like to avoid sounding cliche and teen angsty, I am over it.
I am tired of being sick. I am tired of pissing off/disgusting/annoying my coworkers with my coughs. I am tired of my own stupid, minor mistakes at work. I am tired of the overall atmosphere in my office - it seems so negative at times and is exhausting to work in.
I am tired of always using qualifiers in my statements.
I am frustrated with you. I am frustrated with him. I am frustrated with them. I am frustrated with his and their apparent inaction, although the two parties are unrelated. I am frustrated with my own inaction on dealing with how i feel.
I am frustrated with myself. I feel beaten down.
This song reminds of the gym. It reminds me of you. To me, this is our song, because as cute as beyonce was in the beginning, it is unacceptable to be a song. And lately, this song has been making me cry.
ANDERSON - sarah, for so long we’ve been disconnected.
i found out saturday. i self-medicated that night with half a bottle of bourbon and woke up the next morning with a hangover that proceeded to last the whole day and into the night. other methods of coping included staring blankly into space, eating menudo, trying to get lost in music.
i’m still not sure how i feel…
updating this is killing me. this bout of food poisoning means i can barely get through water and crackers and going through all that deliciousness without even the slightest chance of getting to taste is making me cry.
i was planning on eating spicy spicy szechuan food tomorrow too… but oily and spicy probably wouldn’t be the best idea for my current state.
recently, i have found myself becoming emotive and talkative late at night, moreso than usual. the two on the their own are fine, but when combined in increasing amounts, i feel they become a burden on anyone i may be talking to at that moment.
the only solution seems to be to go to sleep earlier, which is probably not a bad thing anyway.
my high school boyfriend, because we ended things amicably, remained my best friend afterwards but we have since drifted apart, which i guess is natural with time and high school friends. we see each other twice a year at the mini reunions he organizes for our group of friends. i think he feels that he’s outgrown his high school friends since he neglected to tell me and another really good high school friend of ours that he had proposed to his long term girlfriend.
i just found out that he has a facebook account, after years of adamantly saying he would never make one. what i find upsetting is not the fact that he didn’t tell us he made one but that he lied to us about not having one. however i guess i shouldn’t be surprised; i’m sure he’s lied to us about the little things before.
ugh fuck should not watch romcoms so soon after.
my mom thinks it’s because i am a good friend but a bad girlfriend. thanks mom.
i have a strong desire to call you and just talk about nothing, and everything. but if i called, i know i’d freeze up. nothing would come out except for the awkward “hey…” and “so…yea….”
and so i lie awake and wait, trying to think of an excuse to call.
miles davis - blue in green
in a sentimental mood.
joseph arthur - in the sun
its exactly three am. bf is on the phone sleeping and i am sitting in my bed typing on my tumblr. i really don’t know how exactly to express how i’m feeling.
i’d like to think that my mom’s lecture about the irresponsibility of my life so far either hit me because it was a cold dose of reality or anger at all the wrong presumptions. but probably, it was just a reminder of how spiritless and unsatisfactory my life has become post-grad. i’m living at home with no job and no future prospects. nor any semblance of an idea of what i want to do with my life. please let me wallow in self-absorbed pity.
its times like these when i wish i was artistic. i’d paint something dark and filled with turmoil, revealing the inner most depths of my pain hahahah. i wish i had people whom i could talk to, who would know when to suggest job-hunting or gre tips, and when to just talk about something meaningless because i’m so fucking sick and tired of answering the same questions about my failure with the same answers. but then again, that’s probably where the problem is. and lately i’ve been feeling like i’m drifting aimlessly more often than before. no sense of purpose, no passion.
i miss davis. or the mindset i had while i lived there. carefree existence for the most part. yes i had class, papers, and finals, but apart from that i didn’t have to worry about much. relaxing in my own space. visiting my favorite places on and off campus. a place where i could start over every quarter in new classes, and meet new people. there were always places i wanted to visit, concerts i wanted to see. coulda woulda shoulda.
if only i knew. if only i could get back those feelings that i miss so much.
the bravery - believe
i love coming home after a fun night out, not feeling like i wasted a night. i know that i’ve only been on a lucky streak lately. usually i don’t have two nights in a row like these past nights. i know i’m the person who is reluctant to go out and do something, and would rather just watch tv or play video games at home.
but at the same time, we’ve never been able to talk the way i’ve been talking these past few nights. we’ve never had conversations like these.
because it’s really just conversational fluff and emotional bullshit.
and i’ve missed having that connection and those conversations.
death cab for cutie - grapevine fires
i guess i shouldn’t be disappointed, nor should i be surprised. after all, he had dinner with his dad last night and his best friend (whom he rarely sees) is flying into town today. but when there’s a good chance we won’t see each other for more than a month (longest time apart); if he spent last night watching tv, and all day today watching old indiana jones movies and playing video games; and because of the past six weekends, i’ve driven down to see him five times, i feel dispirited, to say the least, that he didn’t come up to visit, even if it would have been for only twentyfour hours.
death cab for cutie - the ice is getting thinner
warm summer nights like these make me miss having a boyfriend close by. fuck long distance.