1 November, 2007, 1208 pm
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, Music, My Experience with Existence

Okay, now that I’ve gotten over the initial excitement of having my beloved chat back at home with me, I’m going to chat about something else.


I am sick of people who befriend me out of pity. Because at heart, I’m a hippie and I want to grow my hair long(er). And my self esteem is FINE; I can pick out positive things about myself and MORE about other people. I pointed out all my flaws years and years ago and I’ve accepted and embraced or fixed them. I just don’t need anyone else to point them out as though I don’t notice them, because to me, they are most prominent. And I’m self-conscious about them. My only issue is that I’m shy and that makes me anxious in all social situations. There’s nothing to pity here. I’m independent and self-sufficient.

Thus, I don’t really give a shit if pink is not my colour; I wanted to be the pink Power Ranger because she’s the best one, no room for argument. I don’t care if my hair is frizzy and granola-like (which it is some/most days because I don’t like to fry it). And I also don’t care if I have “more potential than other girls.” You wanna know how many boys I’ve heard that one from? Two. You wanna know how many times I believed it? None. I’m not a project! I’m just growing up gradually. If you would like to change the way I look and then date me, whether or not I let you change my appearance, there’s no fucking way I’m going to date you after. Two reasons. One, you’re superficial and selfish, and I look for neither of those traits in a guy (in fact, I shun them–maybe my outward appearance is a test!). Two, you’re not taking my personality into account at ALL. Maybe I dress this way to express myself! Maybe this shirt is reminiscent of the Arcade Fire, or maybe I want my hair to look like Feist’s. And also, STOP LOOKING AT MY BOOBS. They are NOT that big. Stop telling me I have a nice chest and a nice ass, PLEASE. Be creative or else I don’t want to hear it! EVER. Tell me you like my eyebrows or my feet or the way my hands look, or my jawline, since those are the things I look for in guys, appearance-wise. I would probably fall in love with anyone who said any of that shit to me, though guys normally just give me a “WTF?!” look when I bring up any of that. I also thought it was cute when a close friend casually said he wanted to marry someone like me, but then that could be taken as an insult as in…I’m just the “marrying” type. Oh, and a surefire way to repel me: Tell me my legs are too skinny. FUCK TEENAGE BOYS. Seriously, I love them so much as friends but they haven’t got a clue sometimes regarding what lines not to cross. I’m very self-conscious about my legs.

In closing to that whole thing, if you offer to “help” me through this “tough time” of a “fashion crisis,” you should know that I’m difficult (really, really difficult) and sure of myself and there are no guarantees and it’s not fair to place expectations on me, and if I say I don’t want to date, then I don’t want to date! EVER! But if you’re patient and if you back off the flirting and try to be friends for a while, if you’re not desperate, then something may just happen. I am also not interested in hooking up. Ever.

I also believe I love someone, but then looking back and comparing it all to now, we’re still making the same mistakes we used to. Distance hasn’t changed anything. I should be sobbing my ass off, melting over the keyboard, but I’m just more emotionally cold, no big deal, and he seems fine. And when I do melt, I get no response or he just gives a tiny, overwhelmed response. And when I share something I’m passionate about, I kind of get a pause or agreement but no conversation. It’s kind of like we’re not at the same place at the same time. I’m where he was a month or two ago. He’s either where I was then, or he’s where I’ll be eventually. I deserve it, though, for being so insensitive.

I feel this intense tightness in my throat right now, but I don’t know exactly why. I think it’s a bunch of things. Frustration with pity pals, questioning my self image, frustration with boys who want things from me, questioning love. Hormones. Calculus.

Anyway, I’ve got a track er two fer yeh. The Andrew Bird one’s good for moodiness, and the Tilly and the Wall one is good for when you want to get over being moody.

Banking On A Myth | Andrew Bird [buy]
Sing Songs Along | Tilly and the Wall [buy]

They’re really a strange set of songs. Nothing alike. Their only similarity is that they’re AWESOME.


4 Comments so far
Leave a comment

BAHHHHH. i miss you. and i should listen to the stuff you put up here some day soon when i gots me some time. and that comic is hysterical. and i’m sorry stuff is weird with The Boy Back Home. and how long are you growing your hair out, that’s exciting!?!? i’m actually wavering in between chopping all mine off or not..

Comment by divya


Comment by wut?!

ohshit, the main reason I was commenting on this…

lol that’s the website I linked you to!

Comment by wut?!

YES! I’m addicted to it. The website, that is.

Comment by leindiemeister

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