But we never were, just those acquaintances whose lives coincide.  Fuck it, I don't need moody "friends."

when a descriptive metaphor of the friendship is "like navigating a minefield," it's time to let go.

I've been going through old journals and such in preparation for a GARAGE SALE on Friday. Apparently, I was a very strange and nerdy child. More so than I remembered... o.O

Also, a little bit disturbed.

So my best friend died today. Her name was Olympia, and she was a thirteen-year-old German Shepard. I had a big scare during midterms (about 5-6 weeks ago) but she pulled through then, and lasted long enough that I got to see her one last time during Spring Break. I think that she was waiting for me, because she died about two hours after I left to return to school. It feels a bit surreal to me still, and it won't really hit me that she's gone till I go home and she's not there to shed all over my dark clothing.

To give an idea of the impact this dog has had on my life:

She was the only one who was there for me during some of my darkest moments, and she'd listen to whatever I needed to say patiently. She'd always keep me company when I was feeling lonely, or sit quietly and let me hug her when I really needed to. She's also the reason I'm no longer Catholic: they don't believe pets have souls. I can actually remember the day when they mentioned that tidbit as a side note in CCD (a bible class kinda thing) and I just... stopped listening to everything that they said.

So goodbye to you, Olympia. Thanks for taking such good care of me.

Well, I've done it again. I've cut all my hair off, and the lady who did it gave me old lady hair. Not only does it look horrible, I hate it even more than I hated my hair before I cut it. That's why I'm writing this as a reminder to myself:

NEVER CUT HAIR SHORT AGAIN

I'm still trying to calm down after getting out of there. For the next few months, I suspect I will be wearing a goddamn hat and trying not to cry about the travesty that this woman made of my hair.

Other news: anyone know a good stylist?

Every quarter, I procrastinate until the last minute, fall way behind in all my classes, and then catch up at the very last possible moment. Does anyone else find this less than ideal? Right now I am going crazy from trying to read 200 pages of (dull) book while making a study guide for my art history class midterm tomorrow. My head hurts, and I just want to kill me of last month, because she put all this shit off until now instead of doing it when she had TIME. Bitch. She'll be the death of me, I swear. Anyhow, back to studies. I think I will skim one more article and then be DONE WITH IT and pray to god for a curve. Stupid art history... Just realized that I don't even NEED the class... Ah well, I don't want to drop it (even though I could), because then I'd only have 14 units, and I'm actually getting something out of it that isn't just misery... Blarg.

With the world as my witness, I vow to never, ever procrastinate on schoolwork again!


(...that might even last me till finals)

Even though I don't believe in fairy tales (Happily Ever After and Love at First Sight are the Big Two that spring to mind), I have been tagged A Romantic. I am not sure how this happened; after all, I tend to view the world with a cynicism that makes even the most stalwart optimists flinch at times. However, I refuse to enter a relationship with someone that I'm just... not attracted to, no matter how Perfect that someone is for me.

There are two Mr. Perfects in my life right now, and indeed, they are both Perfect. ( But wait! There's more! )

It's been raining ash since yesterday morning. It feels rather strange and surreal, as though I'm living through some kind of apocalypse like what I'd see in the movies, yet here I am, sitting in my room planning on what I absolutely must bring in case I find myself evacuated. ( But wait! There's more! )

My greatest fear is being ignored.

Or at least, that's what I would have said a few months ago, and in a sense it is true. I've since realized, though, that I'm driven by a completely different fear altogether, one fueled by low self-confidence. It's a fear of failure. I don't know if there are others with my problem, or how they deal with it, but I do know that failure is how I as a person can grow, so intentionally avoiding any situation that I couldn't handle is like Peter Pan proclaiming that he will never grow up. ( But wait! There's more! )

Everything changes. Thing is, the changes are gradual. You don't go to bed a little girl and wake up a woman. That would make life much too dull, and who wants to live a dull life? Give me adversity any day! Plus, think of all the fun you'd miss if you skipped out on those awkward transitional years known only as "The Teens." ( But wait! There's more! )

First impressions are everything. A good first impression is what tells me that so-and-so's newest catch is alll-right, what tells me that the creep-o standing over there is not. It is my first line of defense against the outside world, as is suggested by another cliched phrase: it's a jungle out there. Of course, there is always the odd case where I choose to ignore the natural warning signs for a more favorable second or third impression. These are the cases in which "shit" happens. ( But wait! There's more! )