last train to wherever.

The few things t hat I actually need to express can't be blogged about.
Irregardless, it's bikini season and thusly ... time for super working out/dieting!
Philip and Victoria's photoshoot went fairly well. You can see a few of the photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/32222655@N04/
The rest are in the process of being edited, then shall be uploaded.
"10 Things I Like About You" shouldn't be a damn television series. It's a series based upon a movie that was based upon a piece of literature (Taming of the Shrew). Said piece of literature came to a comprehensive end and didn't aim to illustrate the 'wacky hijinks' between two rival siblings growing up. Whatever, though. ABC Family also produces 'Secret Life of the American Teenager', so there's less to expect from them.

keeping you alive.

Last night, Bianca held hosted her open house/graduation party. Regrettably, it wasn't as 'hype' and fun as her sweet sixteen had been (although that was 'hype' for reasons unbeknownst to the world). The 'usuals' showed up, with the usuals being those people who once represented members of the popular for being unpopular 'Fam'. Seeing them reminded me that at one point in time ... I called these people friends, family even. Yet now, it's nearly impossible not to laugh at how misguided and self-absorbed they are. Stepping back to see objectively, these people were never my friends. They were never the pillow to fall on when the rest of the world tried to break me. They were objects. Blow-up dolls and stuffed animals that stayed stagnant when solitude was hurtful. When the rest of the school seemed to hate me, those blow-ups and stuffed animals said 'But we love you!' It was similar to an elaborate scene from a disturbing rendition of Toy Story.

Seeing these people yesterday incited pity. These people don't have a grasp on reality and have grown so accustomed to a world where they are comforted at every turn, and always have friends to back them up. Their friends are leaving them soon, how will they fare?

girls, girls, girls.

There are some girls whose friend population consists of mostly female, there are those who have a mostly masculine population, and then there are those who hang with equal portions. Although I hang around girls frequently, guys are preferred. Why? Girls are fucking terrible. Being in a room full of women makes me uncomfortable, irritable, and insecure. Although it's a mixture of my personal 'issues' and the nature of women ... it's still bothersome. Admittedly, there are some girls who break the mold, but overall .... girls ain't shit.

Girls will smile in your face when they want to smack you.

I'm gonna go play the Sims 3 now.

genius of love.

If I were a tragic hero, my tragic flaw would be my anger. Every person in the world feels anger at least once in their life. But, for most of them, this anger subsides, they forget the incident, then move forward. Most people do not have repressed anger in their unconscious from kindergarten. Most people even have some control over their anger or their feelings in general. This is an area in which we differ greatly. My reactions are controlled, but my emotions run rampant. While I may 'act' surprised or happy when someone tells me good news ... I am forcing away tears or the desire to punch those tears away. Any repressed or hidden feeling gets locked in a box that is only opened when my anger takes control. This anger isn't just a flushed face and a brisk rush of embarrassment. My anger is equivalent to shaking hands, adrenaline pulsating, twitching, heartbeat in ears, eyes watering, and I can't tell the person in front of me apart from a stranger. Then comes the abnormal violence (throwing broken scissors at someone's head, stabbing someone in the neck).

It all makes no sense whatsoever. It's really strange. It'd be easy to blame this on a perma-period or early set menopause, but that's not it. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. This is where I'll stop typing so that the 'public' (people who read this blog) don't see the breakable part of me. There is a very fragile person inside who lashes out before being hit. R-i-i-i-i-i-de out.

Part of me has decided against 'beating that bitch' ass', while another part of me has already made plans to bash her skull into the fucking ground and to stop punching when she stops breathing. I do not know her. She doesn't deserve to get all of the anger that will pour onto her. I just need a release ... and as much of a bitch as she is ... she doesn't deserve to be it.

I'm shrinking away from the world and no one seems to notice. Some days, I think that I have a secondary personality who functions swimmingly while my unconscious has floated away.

Happy note: I'm going to look like a girl for prom! Last year, I didn't know where the gauge for caring was, and I had no idea what to do. Only my hair was done, ha. Then, I threw a little eyeliner on. This year ... I AM GOING ALLLLL OUT! My nails will be done (o lawd) and my hair shall be poodle-esque.