someone call the monarchy, we have an imposter on our hands

alligator notes.

let me preface this by saying i just had a really bad day. yes, work is kind of insane. yes, i chose to slice off my hair without thinking (yet again) about blustery winds. but, i really am having a shit day. perhaps, it's just one of those days when everything going wrong converges on me. these days occur too often nowadays. i find myself wandering around my own memories of happier, less complicated times. i guess, sometimes you have to laugh at the universe's infinite joke. everything changes. blah blah blah.

i haven't been able to write in months. no meaningful posts. no additions to the novel. not even a paragraph on desire or devastation. i sit in front of my desk, waiting for words to spew out my fingers and instead, i get a bunch of crap on how i'm having a bad day and how i can't find the inspiration to form pretty sentences. a friend of mine asked me to write about my adventures in the romantic world, in which there is a vast amount of story telling to be had, but i think things are getting a little too real for me, and writing about the lack of mental connection and surplus of whatever remains is actually starting to get to me.

you're not good enough for me, snob!
a new friend of mine (i only say new because we've not hung out as often as most people i hang out with) sent me an email. he made a sideways comment about how i'm a little snobby, and i don't know why, but that has REALLY messed with my head. i've been hurtling staple removers across my desk since. i don't normally give a shit what most people think about me because i'm used to being the odd bug. but. i am really bothered by this. am i snobby? do i condescend to people without even knowing it? i have no idea. i called up some of my close friends and asked other folks whether or not they get that impression about me and the consensus is that i'm not a snob. (though, let the record show that valencia thinks i am a music snob and does not think that that is a bad thing.) so why the hell is this bothering me so much?

because a boy. made me laugh. and i made him laugh. and now we don't speak. now i'm getting phased out.

...


yeah, i know. i'm actually somewhat pissed that i'm even thinking about this and feel like i'm falling into that stupid trap of tradition. i've taken something that someone said, applied it to a sensitive situation and then used it to pretty much paralyze my brain for a day (yet, i'm sure i'll be thinking about this for awhile). a bit of me wants to know if he, the boy who made me laugh, also thought i was a condescending wench. if it was the lack of the click, then eeeeeeeeyyy...it happens, you know? but if it really was the way i come across, if i really come across as being a snobby know it all, then i am really saddened by that. and a completely panicked part of myself is wondering if i looked like complete and utter shit.

crap. what the hell did i wear anyways?

it seems like the older i've become, the more resistant i am to the idea settling down. but it doesn't mean i want to be some lonely mean lady on a porch with eight cats. that is a hard thing to balance and even a harder thing to explain. and it's definitely not something i would subject someone to...especially if they were a secret traditionalist who wanted a (itsanicedayfora) WHITE WEDDING.

i guess i'll see what happens.
[probably nothing. damn.]