05 May 2004 @ 11:18 PM
Wanting:
read below
Wearing:
sky blue ON ringer, grey ON cargo pants, black flip-flops
As a most recent development, I've become very captivated of the now-fastly-becoming ancestral image of femininity. I spend a good amount of time looking at search engine pictures of the women's fashion from the Victorian period and of the then-revolutionary in femininity Gibson Girls. As I do, I love to imagine how much I would love to grace around in such strikingly beautiful outfits that once, the epitome of beauty and glamor are now most likely seen as confining and even misogynistic.
But I digress, it's just a fancy and as such, it probably will never see the light of day. While on the subject of looks of bygone times...
To stick with the outward expression of my given sex, I sadly lament that unless it comes back into the mainstream and not subjectable to age-ist criticism, I will never ever be a raver boy. The aloof, fun-loving, slightly androgynous, slim dancing child of the night whose time flashed out too quickly in the name of the ever-so-fastly changing world of mainstream culture. While it is true that there still do exist followers of the rave (in the same way that there still continue to be Hippies past the 1960's), I've already outgrown that stage of my life where it would've been more acceptable and now if I dare don a pair of excessively baggy/flared/zippered et al. jeans, I'll probably get an endless parade of odd stares.
So, what is this all about, if not a tribute to my increasingly odd mental workings? Probably an exposition of my sensibilities towards gender expression and/or a requiem to how much I wish that I had the physicality to carry out such flights of mental whimsy. Or just maybe a deep-seated wish to be able to have lived in those times and had the je ne sais quoi to realize it and the ability to carry out actions that would allow for enjoyment to the fullest extent.
3+
.
As I was doing my right leg, I was swiping away at my ankle with my right (read: non-dominant) hand and then the razor decided to snag on a small fold of skin, hacking off a good strip of it when I pulled. *Gets incredibly squeamish* It was horrid, there was an actual stream of blood coming down my ankle and onto the floor. It hurt like a motherf*cker! Showering afterward was the most painful experience I'd had since I almost died of the flu last summer, which was also in the shower, incidentally enough.
But I digress, this is probably the Good Lord's *snicker* way of telling me that I'm not meant to be a twink. Which is fine, I don't think I could live with being a slave to controlling my body hair. I'm only thankful that my chest and back aren't a problem. Though I do feel a little inferior to my �ber-str8 brother who seems to shave his lower parts (and I'm hoping it's just his legs) on a regular basis. I swear, that's boy's more of a woman that I am sometimes.
Well that's all for now. I think I've decided the fate of my blog. I'll only write when I have something interesting to say that hopefully will have minimal amounts of bitching in it.
3+
.
I'm seriously thinking about closing shop here. My penning has deteriorated to little more that bitching and as such, I think that I may very well have run my course. I don't know if this is going to be for certain, but since it seems like I do not have much else to talk about and since no one outside my circle of friends seems to care, I would assume that such would be the most wise course to take. Unfortunately, I just renewed my gold membership and to quit now would have thrown $30 down the drain for nothing. I'm unsure as of right now, hopefully I'll come around, if not, I'll be sure to post when I've come to a decision.
Until then...
3+ {You'll change your mind come Monday}
.
Anyway, I saw her and another quasi-friend from back in the day named Celina the other day as I was leaving the ILC (where else?). Anyway, I would've been content to just keep walking by because I didn't recognize her (I've never been the best at facial recognition), but she called my attention. Her voice was immediately familiar to me. So we chat, catch up on old times, she gestures to Celina, whom until then I hadn't recognized, and asks me if I remember her too. It took a moment, but I finally did; and I'll say that I remember her being so much taller than me back then.
So we get into talking about if I'm attending classes here (to which to make myself sound like less of a complete loser, I embroider the truth a bit and say yes). Then we get to talking about graduation and how Celina is going to this May and Alma next year. It was only then of course, that I felt so incredibly horrible inside. It's been nearly four years since I graduated high school and I've yet to even do something productive towards a better future for myself. My worst fears of being left behind and forgotten are all starting to realize themselves.
Though, I've rationalized that I never really gave a damn in high school and that I have about six years left until our ten year reunion to make something out of myself that'll be worth telling them. Still though, it's like missing the last bus, like being the last one on the team chosen, like finding out about a sale a day too late, and a bunch of other clich�s (you get the picture)...
I don't know... it's events like these that make me seriously step back and wonder just WHO, if anyone even myself, is controlling my life and WHY am I not happy or at least seeking it? I want to break all the chains that are tying me down and just get the fuck out of here. I want to live as though there was a timer above my head and nothing I desired would be denied. I want to live the quickly fleeting years of my youth with vigor, with passion and without restraint. How can I hope to be where I want to be when the ones I love won't let me go? How is it that things got so horribly fucked up that I find myself in this painful introspection? Why does it seem like happiness and a bright future is something of a luxury for others to afford and not I? Do they even realize how good they have it? The feeling of having the power of the world in their hands, the feeling of invincibility?
I want this! I want to be happy! I want to live I want to be there alongside the college-going peers of the Sunnyside High School class of 2000 that I outwardly-didn't-care-for-but-inwardly-screaming-to-be-a-part-of graduate! I am sick and tired of watching from the sidelines! I want more! I want what I deserve! I want nothing of what I'm living with now! I've paid my dues, I want this now!
NOW DAMMIT!!!
Fumbling his confidence-Switchfoot "Meant to Live"
And wond�ring why the world has passed him by
Hoping that he�s meant for more than arguments
And failed attempts to fly, flyWe were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live insideDreaming about Providence
And whether mice or men have second tries
Maybe we�ve been livin with our eyes half open
Maybe we�re bent and broken, brokenWe were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live insideWe want more than this world�s got to offer
We want more than this world�s got to offer
We want more than the wars of our fathers
And everything inside screams for second lifeWe were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?We were meant to live
We were meant to live
3+ {Somewhere I live inside}
.
In fact, it was that same anger and pain in my own appearence that drove me to join a gym. It's been about two weeks already, and I've been there for almost just as long. I've had many a false start when it's come to trying to better myself outwardly that I was a bit apprehensive about going about it anew, but this time I figure that I have extra incentive to keep at it. Not only are my pent-up frustrations at an all-time high, but lest I pay out the ass to break my year-long contract, I'll be sticking with it. And as an additional bonus at no extra charge, I get to see some hotties in the shower!
Another thing of beauty is that I finally got a chance to buy myself a decent pair of shoes. Two pairs, in fact; a pair of Steve Maddens, and a pair of dressy sandals (since work has banned flip-flops). I never fail to find comfort in material purchases, and those coupled with a trip to Old Navy during their recent 10-year anniversary sale did wonders to perk up my spirits.
There are problems that I've yet to deal with that will not be solved by trips to the gym and by buying myself bankrupt, but for now I'm happy and I feel so incredibly fortunate to be able to almost single-handedly bring myself out of this funk that I've been in.
3+ {To every broken heart in here}
.
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
The highlight of last night could've been:
Hanging out in Phoenix, scoping out the frat bois at ASU, eating and singing karaoke at the gay Hamburger Mary's, and generally having fun.
But instead it was:
Me at the laundromat drying my clothes. Trying to read an Animerica while avoiding the incoherent rants of a Spanish-speaking bum, crying a little at the tragedy of me leaving my FAVORITE blue-green colored pen (with black ink) in my shorts and have it explode all over my clothes. Said dirty bum acting up, me taking off.
I'm so emotionally distraught right now. I worked my ass off and pestered dear hotties Matt and Chris to get me coverage at work to get today off and then nothing comes of it. I have nothing to do and I feel like I wasted a perfectly good weekend doing absolutely nothing worthwhile. I'm NEVER going to go out of my way to get a free day off again, this always happens.
Fucking Easter.
3+
.
{fly me to the moon}
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