10 Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't.

1. Peed my best friend's dad pants.

2. Recreated cHiPs in my neighborhood.

3. Got suspended from school for calling my Biology teacher "Amino Acid" (or, a mean old asshead.)

4. Watched every Ken Jennings episode of Jeopardy.

5. Tivo'd Ronald Reagan's funeral.

6. Watch repeats on CSPAN

7. Rolled with the Village People.

8. When I was 12, I went to Palm Springs with my parents and won $75 worth of Omaha Steaks gambling in an all-age casino.

9. Watched as a piece of birthday cake randomly caught on fire in the microwave.

10. Threw a pencil at a coworker and got fired.

This is Scary.

I can't find the words anywhere in me, despite my insatiable urge to write.

What more is there to say?

It's just the same shit over and over and over again. (That last OVER is imperative to getting my point across.) I hate no one more than myself. I'm sick of playing mind games with myself, making fake people love me with nothing more than twisted words that I genetically engineered.

Watchout. Marissa is waxing her usual toxic melodrama, laced with suicidal thoughts and bits of neuroses on top. MMM. Make that a double.

 

Spinning my wheels.

It's snowing here. I always find myself wondering how something so beautiful can be as equally dangerous.

I drove home tonight, the only car on the street, annoyed at radio personalities. I want music. Good music. I don't want Richard Marx. I don't care for Phil Collins. My heart doesn't skip a beat for anything Lionel Richie.

I ran into some old acquaintances from high school tonight. Went through the round of usual bullshit question, "What are you doing now?"

My answer? School and work. And I hate that. I'm so much more than that.

What are you doing now?

I'm sitting here, at Denny's, horribly unsuprised and not at all shocked at seeing people from my high school. I mean, why wouldn't they be there? Nobody is doing anything with their lives.

You know what I'm doing now? Really? You really want to know?

I'm into drugs. I'm trying to exercise a lack of discretion. I'm spinning my wheels. I sometimes dream about places that aren't here and often write suicide notes on paper napkins. I have a lack of pride and a serious inferiority complex. I am underappreciated, overlooked and obnoxious. I am detrimental to my own health. I can't back a car into a parking space. I am up for promotion at work. I bite my nails, still. I am learning to let go. I hide behind an air of confidence. Adding to my shoe collection. Watching books collect dust, that I've been meaning to read. I play the same songs over and over again. I'm a poet. I've been known to be a basketcase. The hot sauce on my eggs gave me gas. I tell bad jokes. I revel in hypocrisy. Stare at the ceiling. I've also been trying to get my spray-on gravy idea off the ground and onto potatoes everywhere. Hints of brilliance sometimes radiate off my shining personality. I cherish Forrest Gump moments. I crave to create.

And what have you been up to? I ask him, after ALL of those thoughts choo-choo through me.

He starts talking. I hear nothing.

I instead pull my usual flighty-Marissa attitude and take this opportunity to focus inward and reflect on everything I haven't accomplished, to the tune of bullshit spewing from the kid's mouth.

I've been having a very hard time pinpointing feelings and reestablishing them into words. I think I'd somehow feel more validated if I could.

What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive. I can't keep up and I can't back down. I've been losing so much time.

Quiz Whiz

 

 

Your Homicidal Rampage! by crash_and_burn Your name: Weapon of Choice: Katana Your Favorite Target: Women Your Kill Count: 1,514,922,482 Your Battle Cry: "Beans." Years You Spend in Jail: 12 How Much Money In Damages You Cause: $203,480,089,075,421 Your Homocidal Insanity Level:: 9%

Whats your homicidal insanity level?

What stupid celebrity are you destined to kill? by daydreamer8852 Name Birthdate You killed With a On June 23, 2014

Which stupid celebrity are you destined to kill?

The Scary Truth About Your Friends (eddie izzard style) by Mellifera username Wants a "cup of coffee" Hides their makeup in a tree Vegetarian painter Was on the moon with Steve Poked a badger with a spoon Puts babies on spikes Can run about in heels and not fall over Under house arrest Carries a brick in their handbag Never played Risk as a kid Ich bin ein Berlinner

 

Who are your friends?

 

It's a Friday night and this is what I'm doing. All of these lame yet entertaining quizzes I found at http://memegen.net/popularmeme.pl

I'd like to add that my celebrity parents are Angelina Jolie and Saddam Hussein.

Flyin' around in Egypt Land.

You Are... Carl!

The Aqua Teen Hunger Force's grumpy next door neighbor, you would be in a bad mood too if a giant milkshake stole the newspaper off your lawn every morning, or a big wad of smelly meat swam in your frickin' pool! It wouldn't be so bad, if your car wasn't always getting crushed or scratched with messages like "The Moon Rulez!" For some reason, you want candy and your hands are occasionally bigger than your body. Maybe it's time to move...

Which Aqua Teen character are you?

I thought I was worthless until I took this test.

You are worth more than money can buy. You are so amazing that you didn't even need to take this quiz. Why do you question yourself? I think you are a wonderful individual, you might be misunderstood at times, but you can do it. Believe in yourself!

What are you worth?

This is what I do late at night.

You Are a Lace Bra!

Dreamy, romantic, and ultra-feminine

You're a womanly woman who makes guys feel like men

Your perfect guy is strong, determined, and handsome

With a softer side that only you can draw out

 

What kind of bra are you?

Going through the motions.

I somehow managed to tune my schedule just so I find myself with an 8 hour day of school.

I also somehow managed to awake my formerly subdued thoughts of complete and utter despair and it is tragic, folks.

I started redoing my room over. This is my test. If I can deal with the change of something as small as my as my room, I am inevitably ready for whatever other changes are in store. I've been contemplating moving to London. So far it's been alright. I have cleaned everything out, save for my bed at this time, and begin peeling away the layers of my former self, so to speak. It's different. I am learning to let go. Changing colors may not sound like a big deal, but let me tell you, it is.

I asked Mario to come to London with me. Sure, it was impulsive and spontaneous, but hey, I want to give myself a world of opportunity. And he'd be my favorite person to share it with. I think. He balances me out a bit, I like that. I am fidgety and have a short attention span; he is laidback and adaptable. I am a black-belt pessimist, he's seemingly carefree. I remember being around him and liking who I was. Maybe that's why I'm so attatched to the memory of it. I wish he felt the same way.

London, you ask? Talk about left field. There is nothing ordinary about me. I shouldn't live an ordinary life. Come visit me in my vintage dress shop I'm opening. From inside there's a great view of flying pigs.

She's a real Gem...ini

There is a reason that cliche's are exactly that; a cliche'. It's a wildly popular trend or expression that overused and inevitably becomes overkill.

Consider yourself warned.

I'm a child, bordering on adulthood. Imagine a game of hopscotch written in chalk on the sidewalk. There are 19 little squares, each with their own number. I'm standing behind the crack of the sidewalk, stone in hand and I toss it. It lands on the 19. I hop, one leg, then two, to the end. And it's there I stand, on one leg, wondering where to go next. Ladies and Gentlemen, my crossroads.

I don't know which direction to take. Each holds different opportunites, good and bad. Unfortunately, the result of being born under a bad sign which renders me fickle, inconsistent and unable to finish what I've started, I fear I may be doomed. What I wouldn't give to be a Libra.

That being said, it is evident that there's a new awareness awoken within me that has forced me, on the arched back of fear, to look deep within myself and discover what my true feelings are on particular matters of priorities, dreams and ambition, which all of course, go hand in hand with a period of reflection. I find myself asking instead of my usual, "What is all of this for?" I substitued, "How far have I really come?" And, as always, afraid to admit defeat, I lie to myself.

But for all of you, and mostly me, I will come clean.

 

The Good:

 

Realizing a broken heart will not kill me.

Maintaining a GPA higher than 3.5

Getting, Keeping and Loving my job.

Knowing when it's time to stop.

Learning to relax.

Understanding that I have the ability to feel good.

Meeting new and wonderful people.

Letting go of the past.

Looking stunning in EVERYTHING I put on.

 

The Bad:

 

Being an emotional masochist.

Closing the door on the idea of LOVE.

Wanting to sleep my life away.

Having no pride.

Inferiority Complex.

Faithless.

Hiding behind a mask of fabulousness.

Hurting others.

Hurting myself.

Cutting ties.

 

The Ugly: (there's so much bad I needed two seperate lists)

 

Crawling back, crying hysterically and blotchy. Blotch looks good on no one.

Giving my teacher the finger.

Rolling with the Village People.

Fearing my dealer was gonna kill me.

Drinking too much and ending up in the bushes. Not alone.

Going too far.

Breaking the pact, and reaching for the knife.

Christmas Eve.

Letting myself down.

 

I'm looking through these lists and trying to find out where I stand. Alot has happened in the last two years. I said goodbye to relationships, and inevitably, the love that came with it. I feel accomplished. It's been a year and a half and I survived without depending on a force outside of myself, though not completely. I needed a little help getting back on my feet every now and them (or off of them, depending on how you look at it) and I have had a few crushes---er---crutches, as stepping stones.

Ha, looking back...

The boy I mooned over for 2 months in the cafeteria. I got up the nerve one day to go up to him and ask him out. Mind you, I have never once much as muttered one word to this boy. But I knew that if I never did, I'd never be able to move from the perfect little spot in the cafeteria where I could see him perfectly, playing cards with his friends. So I planned it out. I saw him getting fries. What goes better with fries than Marissa?----I mean, ketchup. So I plotted to need napkins while he was pumping his ketchup. My timing was impeccable. My choice of words? Not so much. I blurted out, "You are so cute."

He denied me.

I got back up and got back on m'horse. Who needs him anyway? It was my first big girl move.

And then came the drugs. Something I thought I'd never do. Well...I'm not gon' lie, I've always been the experimental type. All of my friends were always the "straight edge" bunch of people. My ex-boyfriends were always dead against it. That probably had something to do with my suddenly single---and piqued--- interest.

( I thought about deleting that, but decided against it. Be it as it may. )

- - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Then came the grown-up moments. Those many moments over the past few months that have shaken me to the very core with the harshness of truth. Where my very identity was rattled and hardened and I came undone. Dealing with loss. Feeling the power of family. Graduation. Walking away from love. Rediscovering my voice. Laughter. Running toward what I believe in. Escaping. Devotion and intimacy with someone unexpected. Trying to breathe my last breath. Never giving up. Coming down from my highs. Ultimate lows.

I don't know whats going to happen. But, to quote myself from earlier this week, "...the excitement is most of the fun. When that's gone, it's just mundane. And mundane isn't exciting. Enjoy it."

Here's to life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dying to be Beautiful.

Since I've been couch-ridden these past few days with the stomach flu, I've had nothing better to do than watch soap operas, syndicated TV (my favorite!) and talk shows. And what would vegging out in front of the TV all day be without talk show queen OPRAH?

Oprah and I have always been thisclose. I love her show. I subscribe to her magazine. There is a reason she's the richest woman in the world. And that reason is because she does the most in her unlimited power to make sure that we realize that we are the richest people in the world. Her "Live Your Best Life" segments are exactly that; words of wisdom from everyone around the world who are living their best life. And it teaches us how to do the same, in what is best for us.

Anyhow...

Today's show was about the new obsession and addiction, in some cases, with plastic surgery. A 28 year old woman who has had 26 plastic surgeries. A middle-aged woman dying for liposuction on her thighs and risking her husband and children leaving her if she does. I knew about this new epidemic. It's the bulimia of the new millenium. Eating disorders are suddenly downstaged, with all the light being shone on "Extreme Makeover" and "The Biggest Loser." What happened to looking and being healthy?

Oprah asked the question that was on my mind. (Doesn't she always?) She asked, "Why not just go to the gym?"

The middle aged woman answered "Because gym clothes are embarrassing."

Her husband deserves better than her. He sat there crying as she said he works 3 jobs to pay off all of her medical bills.

I can't help but think about all those starving people around the world. While we are all dying to be beautiful, they are dying to be fed. What's the matter with this picture?

And it's not just women. I caught the Jane Pauley show earlier and saw a bunch of teenage boys addicted to steroids. And where we might are think that they are doing it to enhance their athletic abilities, it's only half the story. Many of them do it to look more appealing to girls.

How messed up is all of this? It's so tainted in every which way. It's just so wrong.

I have insecurities just as much as the next girl. Sure I think I have chubby thighs, bad skin and the beginnings of a gut, but it doesn't paralyze my thinking so much that I don't see that I am beautiful. I'm happy with me, because it's me. I'm happy with the way I look because it is a reflection of my family and where we came from. If I wanted to change something bad enough, like my weight, I would change my eating habits, not shell out tons of money I don't have to get it sucked out, just so I can balloon up again and go under the knife again. Vicious cycle, people.

Break it. Love you.

Yo Mamma is the Lusitania.

I don't know how to start this thing. I don't know how it's going to end. It will probably give me some sort of temporary relief, though when I go back to reread it i will feel awful for typing such shit. Especially when I have a buttload of homework to do.

But that's one of the problems. School. Come on, Jennifer, I need some advisement here. Tell me there is a GOOD reason why I'm going to school. Tell me it means something. Tell me there is a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Tell me not to skip classes. And while you're at it, go ahead and tell me that I'm one of those students you hate.   :(      You know the type...hates morning classes...complains...   And for that, I'm really sorry. But forgive me, I'm a 19 year old. I am lost and in the waning phases of an identity crisis. How I hope I find myself soon. Anyone out there wanna help me look?

I know what makes me somewhat content and what doesn't. You'd think that I'd just fill up all those unpleasant times with something I enjoy doing right? Wrong. I am a masochist. It's easier that way. And I'm one who believes that there's nothing wrong about doing things the easy way. It's completely commendable. Would you really drive through rush hour traffic when you wouldn't have to? Didn't think so. And don't give me that "it will benefit you later..." crapola. I am the proud owner of an ID.

Cut the strings on the whole Mario thing again. It's just not worth it. He was just an idea I once had. A memory so infused with idealisms and romance-laced dreams that became nothing but more corrupt each time I spoke of him. I doubt he ever really came out and said he liked me, I just twisted his words in my head to make it sound that way. That's what I do. I only hear what I want to hear. But thinking back, I never heard Marissa from him. I hate that we spend our whole lives looking for love and when we find it, we have to spend our whole lives getting over it. It just doesn't seem okay to me. I'm going to walk away from that whole love thing. I'm headin' back to Bittertown USA, population me and Anthony. No wait, looks like it's just me.

Girlfriend's diet has been nothing short of raunchy lately. (For those of you who don't know I have an alter-ego, Girlfriend, and I talk about her in the 3rd person.) I found myself peeling the shell off of a lobster last night, circa 11:30 pm. Worshed it down with a lil' spaghetti, followed bya flood of cranberry juice. What's not to love? I'll tell you whats not to love. Girlfriend's got some Bittertown Handles. And if you all aren't clever enough to get that, allow me to reiterate. Love = Bittertown. Love Handles = Bittertown Handles.

Did I mention Italy trip is all set? They're shippin' me off 2 days after my birthday. For those of you who don't have it marked on your calendars, that would be May 31st, seeing as how my birthday is the 29th. So buon giorno, bitches. Actually, the first 4 days are in Switzerland and I really have no idea what language they speak there. The 5th day we make it up to Florence, where we're staying for the next week. This trip is also punctuated with a hint of Germany. Gon' get me some bratwurst, if you know what I'm sayin'. Did I mention where the layover is?

Anyone ever heard of Paris?

Mmm.

I'm thinking about wandering away from my group at the airport and just running away and becoming a mime. That way I can wear cute striped shirts, lots of makeup and not mess up ze French language without being criticized for it. However I'd be at greater risk for becoming a possible terrorist threat. After all, it's the quiet one's you've got to watch. (Seriously. Whoever heard of a mime hijacker? NO ONE! Because mime's don't talk! How could someone hear it?!) <---I am elite.

Sleep is the only thing on my mind. You know, aside from everything else on my mind. That being said, the above statement has nothing better to do than to make sense.

Help Wanted!

 

A man is driving happily along when he is pulled over by the police. The copper approaches him and politely asks, "Have you been drinking, sir?"
"Why?" snorts the man. "Is there a fat bird in my car?"

 

I don't get it! Help!

When the lights are turned down low...

It struck me with its desperation. It awakened all I've tried to kill, even if only for tonight.

 

I can't imagine all the people that you know
and the places that you go
when the lights are turned down low
and I don't understand all the things you've seen
but i'm slipping in between
you and your big dreams
it's always you
in my big dreams

and you tell me that it's over
wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers
and your restless, and i'm naked
you've gotta get out
you can't stand to see me shaking
no
could you let me go?
I didn't think so

and you don't wanna be here in the future
so you say the present's just a pleasent interruption to the
past
and you don't wanna look much closer
cuz your afraid to find out all this hope
you had sent into the sky by now had crashed
and it did
because of me

and then you bring me home
afraid to find out that you're alone
and i'm sleeping in your living room
but we don't have much room to live

I had these dreams that i learned to play guitar
maybe cross the country
become a rock star
and there was hope in me that i could take you there
but dammit you're so young
well i don't think i care
and if i hurt you
then i'm sorry
please don't think that this was easy

then you bring me home
cuz we both know what it's like to be alone
and i'm dreaming in your living room
but we don't have much room to live

and konstantine is walking down the stairs
doesn't she look good
standing in her underwear
and i was thinking
what i was thinking
we've been drinking and it doesn't get me anywhere

my Konstantine came walking down the stairs
and all that i could do is touch her long blonde hair
and i've been thinking
it hurts me thinking that these nights
when we were drinking no they never got us anywhere
no

this is because i can spell konfusion with a k
and i like it
it's to dying in another's arms and why I had to try it
it's to jimmy eat world and those nights in my car
when the first star you see may not be a star
I'm not your star
isn't that what you said
what you thought this song meant

and if this is what it takes
just to lie in my mistakes
and live with what i did to you
and all the hell I put you through
I always catch the clock
it's 11:11
and now you want to talk
it's not hard to dream
you'll always be my konstantine

konstantine, they'll never hurt you like i do
no they'll never hurt you like i do
no, no, no no no no no no

this is to a girl who got into my head
with all the pretty things she did
hey
you know
you keep me up in bed
this is to a girl who got into my head
with all the f**ked up things i did
hey
maybe
baby
you could keep me up in bed
my Konstantine
spin around me like a dream we played out on this movie screen
and i said
did you know i missed you? [x7]
oh god i miss you

and then you bring me home
and we'll go to sleep, but this time, not alone, no no
and you'll kiss me in your living room
i know
you'll miss me in your living room
cuz these nights i think maybe that i'll miss you in my living
room
we don't have much room
i said does anybody need that room?
because we all need a little more room
to live

my Konstantine

 

"Konstantine" by Something Corporate

defeated.

I can't help but feel there is nothing here for me anymore.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm sure this wasn't it.

gravedigger.

I've come to the conclusion that my "depression" can be chalked up to laziness. After reading comment after comment on my last entry, it felt both equally inspiring as well as redundant, with the common thread of relatability. I'm beginning to see my theories on depression more clearly now; that we all have some degree of "mental illness," some more than others, in the sense of how we deal with it.

I've done the therapy thing, even in combo with different medicines. I've done the white padded walls of a psych ward. I've tried ending it all. I've done the cutting. But all to no avail. And sometimes I think there's a reason for that.

The reason is that I stand behind my own black pit of despair, shovel in hand, dirt underneath my fingertips.

All the advice I have ever recieved has been good. The personal stories beautiful. They're like that proverbial ray of sunshine through the storm. It's nice to know I'm not alone. (And I'm beginning to think those who do not go through this are the ones who are alone.) But I'm understanding now that no amount of advice can help me, until I put down that shovel. And let's face it, I've gotten pretty comfortable with it.

It's hard for me to see myself any other way. I've grown so accustomed in my cynical skins that it may be hard to give them up on the account of health. And what if I can't shed them? Will there always be a ghost to haunt me?

To all of you who commented, thank you. For once I didn't feel so unnoticed and insignificant.

And it's also good to know that there are good feelings out there too. And good people.