History [aka the life of disasters.bitch] (written early 2010/late 2009)

This is my history, for any of you who are wondering. It might not get posted right away- hell, it might not get posted at all- but its something that's been sitting on my chest for awhile, and it will be good for me to write it all out, and I'm starting at the very beginning. No secrets. No lies. Okay?
I don't really remember anything from birth to about six years old. Yeah, I have random nonsensical snippets, like watching my father china paint or coloring in the church's basement, but nothing substantial happened then. At six, I started to go to camp. That first summer, I attended three weeks. Two were things I was actually eligible for, being six, and one was a puppeteering camp that my father was directing, and I came with him and slept at home, since we lived close. That's when I fell in love with theatre, at six years old. I loved watching the grown-up kids putting on their makeup, singing on the somewhat makeshift stage and dancing with each other. That was also the year that Dad directed some choir, and we travelled around watching them perform for couple weeks. I love choirs.
When I was eight, we moved for the third time in my life. I don't really remember any of the other moves- I wasn't ever upset that I remember, because, to my memory, I had very few friends as a child. When we moved from the third house, I remember being a little sad- I loved my house, and I had a small group of friends, who I realize now probably weren't the best ones- but kind of excited to make new friends and be popular. After all, everyone said that when you moved you got to reinvent yourself.
This might be the time to mention that I was a really, really dorky child. At JC Penneys, they used to sell these shirts in the kids section, and the girls plus section (which was basically womens clothing for large children like me) that were short sleeved, incredibly soft, and had little embroidered emblems in the center of the chest. Palm trees, butterflies, flowers, dragonflies, things like that. Over time, I collected an insane number of these shirts. Enough that I wore a different one every day. Obsessively. I wouldn't wear other shirts, until winter, when I wore sweaters. Hair was usually in a headband, long, honestly because I didn't know how to make a ponytail, and at the time, Mom was preoccupied with three little kids and I didn't want to bother her to learn. When it wasn't, it was french braided down my back, like it was on 9-11, when I found out about the World Trade Centers on our living room floor, and understood that it was bad because Mom pulled too hard and she almost never did.
But back to the move. I thought, being my eleven year old self, that this would be the year where everything changed for me. I'd get my period, lose what I thought was baby fat, and become stunningly popular and beautiful, and I'd finish all my work and start medical school next year. Needless to say, the exact opposite happened. I remember having very few friends the first year there. Mainly, it was one named Michelle, who, if lesbianism turns out to be conditioning rather than  genetics, was the one who "turned me into a lesbian". Got that, critics? It wasn't my mom. It was the bullying, obsessive, moody best friend I had when I was eleven, who threw fits when I didn't give her her way, and thought she would become famous singing off-key country music. I remember her talking about my body all the time- asking what diet I was on, how much I'd lost, and feeling my chest, because I, at eleven, had relatively large curves and she wanted to know what it felt like. I don't know if she really was a lesbian, but she talked more about bodies than anyone I knew.
The next year, I started public school. I was so excited. I thought it would be like the movies- all bright coloring and shiny soundtracks. I'd just finished watching Mean Girls, and I thought that all homeschooled kids really got accepted like that- liked immediately. The first month was a blur. The second month was a painful blur. Of the three months I was there, I came away with five things: I had been to my first dance. I couldn't dance, and I didn't know the music, but I'd been, and I knew what it was now. I had had my first boyfriend- though we'd both agreed that dating in middle school was stupid, and that we were just kind of... betrothed to date, in the future. He did, however, bring me flowers and candy on my last day at school, which was nice of him, and I went on my first date- We saw "A Series of Unfortunate Events" at the two-dollar theatre down by Kmart, and he laughed at all the right places with me. I met my friend Liz, who I doubt remembers me now, but we sat together in chorus and she threatened to tape me to my chair my last day. I met my friend Chris, who I later attended prom with (2009).

Monday Morning Exhaust

So I'm sitting here in class, and wondering if I'll ever really feel better again. I'm hearing people talk about things that they've learned this semester, and wondering what I've missed. I thought that these things were just common knowledge. I don't feel like I've learned anything the entire class.
I'm panicking a little, because I have about a million things to do, and I can't even imagine how to get it all done. I'm completely wiped out, and I haven't even done anything. I've wasted so much time in the past semester- I have like... fifteen papers to write, and I can't even fathom how to get it all done. Although, you know, I have time to blog... But I guess I'm justifying it as sanity-time, plus, you know, I'm in class. >.> Maybe there is no justification, outside of "I don't want to be dependent or attention seeking anymore." That's pretty much what the jump in blogging again has meant. I felt like I was wringing the life out of everyone around me, even though I wasn't. So, dear readers, if you're out there, if you care or notice that I'm writing again, that's why. Yes, I miss you, and yes, I want to keep writing, but the posts, for now, will be intense and lingering, thought based, feelings, stream-of-consciousness right now.

Beloved,

I know you're probably not even there, and you don't have to read this- I just need to get this out, and on some sort of paper, and journaling to myself has never worked for me, just like walking with no purpose. If there isn't an intent, if there isn't a subject, a person or a place, if there isn't something to direct towards, the effort is worthless, which ends in endlessness... God, those words sound empty, like something that an attention seeking novellist would write at the beginning of her memoirs. This isn't a memoir.
This is a story, a story about how I feel at these moments, not my last, mostly because I feel that would be melodramatic and none too tasteful, to die in April- too rainy for funerals. No, kill me in August, when the sun is still blazingly hot and difficult to deal with, when I'm exhausted from work and my family, when I've been away for far too long and can't even look to despise anymore, because I'm so disgustingly worn out. Yes, kill me in August.
Right now, I'm obsessed with you. That sick obsession that draws me in, wraps it's long, scarf-like hands around my throat and squeezes, until I can't write, can't breathe, can't even sleep without thinking of you. Only this time, it's different.
In times past, I messed around. I flirted with the internet countlessly and without shame. Now I feel the shame, dark, looming as I realize that I am ugly, I am worthless and I truly am a worm.
Only a worm could cheat so blatantly, could wrap it's slimy hands around you and then use them to type the disgusting words I have.
I want to be raped.
Isn't that sick? Isn't it especially sick after I have been?
You want to believe she's wrong- that I'm not ill, that I don't want attention. I do. I crave your attention. I want you to hold me and kiss me and be happy with me. But you're not. You're sad and stressed and busy- too busy for me right now. So I'll pack it all away, closet my pretenses and envelope myself into this sick mold I am becoming. I'll lock away my selfish desires, box it all, and start writing down my thoughts here- where nobody but the anonymous masses, those who breathe, and sleep, and eat the thoughts of others, those who cannot possibly dream any longer, and have thrust themselves at the mercy of strangers. People like me.
I shall not be the dastardly vilaine in your plot any longer.
Never doubt I love- even though it's early, even though you don't-
-Me

"The Cost Of Hiding" -Joy Miller

She's such a funny little thing
at least that's exactly what she wants you to believe
just like a bird, she's on the wing
she never stops, can't let no grass grow under
that's when she hurts the least
she ain't stood still a moment since the day she knows she died
now she's no longer she because she never even cried
for what she lost-
Guess that's the cost of hiding.

She wears such a lovely disguise
thinks she can hide behind her pretty painted smile
she'll never look you in the eyes
afraid that if she does you'll see right through her and undo her
and then you'll think she's weak
she ain't got close to no one since a time long out of mind
she'll open up to none because she's afraid of what they'll find
beneath the gloss
but that's the cost of hiding.

Why must we act like nothing's wrong when our spirits are in shreds?
And ignore the raging war in our hearts and in our heads?
We close our eyes.
and intellectualize.
We say forgive, forget, move on, 'cause that's what good people do.
Never mind that the wounds inside of you, will be infected soon.
That's just the cost of hiding.

She's such a mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty woman,
since she turned and stared her anger in the face
knocked it down and said enough.
I am through with playing tough.
I was just a little girl...
and it's not alright.
But my restoration's worth the fight.
I must bring this pain into the light...
There will be no more hiding.

Reviews...

Basically, these are some things I've discovered recently and ADORE. :)
Product 1: L'Oreal's HIP cream eyeliner. Amazing. I purchased it in Eggplant(960), and the color is smooth and even, it doesn't irritate my eyes, and it stays put wonderfully. Don't miss this product!!!
Product 2: LUSH Happy Hippie Shower Gel- I actually use this as a shampoo, and it gives me the most shiny, soft hair I've had in a long time... Plus, the smell is awesome- compare to the Each Peach massage bar or Sexy Peel soap. Mmmmmm.
Product 3: Covergirl & Olay Simply Ageless Foundation in Ivory(205). As I might have mentioned previously, I'm quite pale, and I have a rough time finding shades light enough for me that retain coverage. This one does! :) Smooth application, light finish, and I'm told it will reduce fine lines and wrinkles... >.> Okay, I don't need that, but the foundation is nice. :)
Product 4: MARK concealer brush... :) If it has a number, I don't know it. But it's perfect for tight, high pigment shadows.
Er... Okay, so that's actually it. Boring, you say?! Bah!
Til next time, lovelies....
~disasters.bitch~

Standardized Testing

If I ruled the world, there would be no "standardized testing". Actually, there would be no testing. Everything would be intrinsically motivated- learning because we're interested. No reward except that of knowing we did well. And grades would be based on the kindness and community spirit of individuals.
Alas, this is not the world. We are forced to study for finals, AP tests, IB(?) tests, SATs, ACTs, Accuplacers, Math Placement Exams, and that's only the US versions. Why do we as a country place so much value on scores? Credit scores, IQ scores, test scores, game scores- even the number of women we've taken to our beds (which for those of you still wondering, has only been one for me, and she had most of her clothes still on).
Well, I for one, quit. I am through basing my self worth on a bunch of meaningless numbers that have nothing to do with my true person at all. Join me?

Dear Lovelies-

I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been a bit stressed, and a bit out of sorts. I still am, but I'll put it aside long enough to give you all a nice update. As some of you know, AP tests are coming up, which means that Disasters.Bitch is turning blue from studying and whatnot. >.<
Let's see... Prom was last weekend. That was fun... not. I went with a boy, for my mom, and he was... nice, but really distant. I think he realized I wasn't interested.
Hmm. I got a full scholarship to my college, which I'm really excited about. I graduate pretty soon, and I can't wait to get out of this town, and start meeting people.
Love life- what love life? I haven't been seeing anyone, and I don't really have any prospects. Whatever. I'm still waiting on the love of my life. :)
Errrrm.... Tried out cream eyeliner today, which I'm really liking. The one I've got is... H.I.P. in eggplant, which applies really smoothly, and nice and smoky, just the way I like it.
I really don't have much else to say, BUT- if you have any suggestions, or questions or whatnot, let me know!
Love youuuu.
xxdisasters.bitch
PS- Dear Laura, I'd stopped posting because I thought nobody was listening. Thanks for your comment lovey.