Shock Humor

I read this and it immediately struck me as funny. Reading it again, I realized that it is actually very offensive.





Oh, well....

Knowing me by heart.

You know what I hate? I hate it when people write "Happy Bday" instead of Happy Birthday. I hate it even more when they SAY "Happy Bee Day". It's like... would it kill you to add four more letters, say one more little affectation. B Vs. Birth: Does it really make all the difference?

I'm only saying this because it is my sad, hopeless romantic dream to one day have someone who will remember that I mentioned that. Who will remember how years and years ago I said how I hated it when people said Happy "Bee Day" and since they have not said it, and exchange a knowing look of disapproval and annoyance when hearing someone say it. That would be wonderful. Having someone know you by heart so that even when you lied they would know the truth, a single look could tell them all they needed to know about how your day went, and a breath of air over the telephone would expose everything.

I think I'm lovesick. But it's not for the right guy. I'm in love with Steve. But I'm head over heels for the wrong, wrong, guy.




Classic.

Back to School

Well, after a week of parties, movies, and lounging about, it's time to go back to school!

I'm still going to be schlepping back to Stalag 14 to work with my Teacher's Assistant class. They have their final this Thursday and it is my civic duty to help prepare them for the vocab part of it. I don't mind at all, actually. Call me crazy, but I love those little freshmen. I am constantly making jokes about it. I say, "Be careful or I'll send my army of freshmen to annihilate you." I then lovingly add: "If everyone had a freshman friend, the world would be a better place."

And it's true; this year's freshmen are completely rad. They are also chill, and H-I-larious. Seriously, they're the best!



On a slightly darker note, I've been waiting to burst into tears all week. I've been waiting for the release that comes from working and working and working to get to a point that seemed to be perpetually far away, and getting there and not realizing it quite yet. Maybe it will dawn on me when I get to school tomorrow (technically today, I guess). It's just... I've never felt like a part of my grade. I've always felt like the odd one out, the third wheel of the whole grade. Everyone else seems to have found their place but me. I had a place in my old grade, a place I liked, and notch that I fit into perfectly. Snug next to the friends I made in middle school, I thought nothing could hurt me. And I was right. Because trust me, the next closest thing to the Spanish Inquisition in the lack of expectation dept. is a tiny little spirochete. I didn't know what hit me.

I really should try to stop dwelling on what's happened. It should be easy now that I'm finally out of school and so close to college, but I'm just wondering when the release is going to happen. Thinking about it makes me sad, and not just sad, but perplexed. It's like I've finally realized what hell it has been. It's like when your drowning in the ocean, you don't stop to think, "Holy shit, I'm drowning", you swimswimswimswimswim until finally you drag yourself on shore, cough the last bit of water out of your lungs and then it hits you: "Holy shit. I almost drowned." And that's what it's like for me right now. I really am having trouble fathoming (pun) what I've been through. Ask Mr. Hill: I've been writing about it for years, trying to puzzle it all out, but to no avail. And now that I've made it, pulled myself up on the metaphorical dock/shore, I'm waiting for the realization to hit me:

Holy shit. I just survived the fight of my life.

Cryptic

"Thank you for being my student."

That's what he said to me.

"You're welcome," I say,

But the first thing that came into my head when he said it was

"I was never really given a choice."


And I'm glad I wasn't.

If I had one wish

I would give my boyfriend back his old life.


He had a rough night tonight, and I swear, he deserves better. He deserves everything and anything he wants from this world, because it has treated him like shit for the past two years.

Sometimes I wonder if God is there. Cause if he is, he has a pretty sick sense of humor, and a morbid way of making people stronger.

Disengaged

from the world. That's how I felt yesterday. The last day of school, you're supposed to be overjoyed. Free at last, right? Not me. It never really sunk in. Walking around, waiting for that rush of euphoria. I'm still waiting.

I find that whenever I'm feeling detached and unemotional, I like to write poetry, and that poetry is better. You'd think it'd be the other way around, that when I'm present and in the moment, I'd write beautiful poetry, but it's not true. You see, it's only when you step back from the world that you can write about it accurately, you can look into the sun and not be blinded, to be very poetic. And speaking of being poetic, here is a poem I wrote yesterday. Cliché? A little. But it's happy, which is not like me, but nice, right?

Poetry Is Meant to be Written

Poetry is meant to be written.
Not typed, but written,
with a smooth fountain pen,
like the one my favorite teacher uses.

Poetry is meant to be remembered
from a time when you were so
Happy
you wondered if it were all a
Dream,
or the time when you were so
Sad
because it was.

Poetry is meant to be imagined
On a picturesque day
When you're lying stomach down
on the warm front porch,
cheek on the rough wood worn smooth by
bare feet,
or,
When you're lying face up
in a field of tall grass and
you feel
perfectly invisible
to the world,
and the clouds won't tell your secret.

Poetry is meant to be Dreamed,
and Wished,
and Concocted,
and Sang,
and Given as a gift
from someone who
Inspires you to write poetry
Every Day.