Friday, August 28, 2009

See this blog? It's mine.

I've got a handful of blogs I want to write, and they're going to be out of order. I originally wanted to blog about my few days I spent back at home, but I'm a tad livid right now and I have to vent first.

I received a text about 10 minutes ago. This is said text:

"I hate how you un-tag yourself from all the photos of us. It's like you don't want my picture anywhere on your page."

This person is referring to the fact that I untagged myself from a photo that they tagged me in. Yes, I know, I play Captain Obvious rather well.

This was my reply:

"It has nothing to do with you, retard. I hate how I look in most pictures lol."

I threw in the "retard" and "lol" to try and lighten the matter because I could tell that this person was going to take the matter in a direction that was absurd, ridiculous and totally out of context from what my original actions implied.

Their reply:

"In 99.9% of the pictures we take...thanks. I look like a fat cow but I still put it up."

My reply:

"I don't un-tag myself as a personal attack or anything of that nature."

This statement that I said is completely true! They seem to think that I un-tag the pictures so that it's not on my facebook page and therefore no one can see them because I'm apparently ashamed of them for some unapparent reason. That, my friends, is false. It's assumptions. I could write another entire blog on how much I hate assumptions and the ASSumErS behind them.

I un-tag pictures that I don't like of myself. I'm sorry... I believe I have that right. And no, I'm not really sorry. Am I too critical? Maybe. Do I place too much thought into what I look like, and in a negative light? Maybe. I'm glad that they're fine with posting the picture of us regardless of how they think we look. I'm glad that they aren't as critical of themselves as I am of myself. Trust me, I wish I wasn't.

My 'father' barked at me for years about how fat I was -- how horrible I looked. He constantly made me go on diets and he singled me out in the family as the fat one. I WAS A HEALTHY SIZE 6/8. I was in NO way fat, or even overweight! Looking back at photos, I was what I would consider "the perfect body." However, because of him, I thought I was a beached whale. I hated myself. I am bigger now -- about a size 12/14. I've slowly regained my personal confidence back and recovered and pampered the severely bruised mindset that he caused me to have. However, I DO have times where I severely dislike the way I look. And if I don't like how I look, I have the right to take it off a public website.

It really bothers me that they're taking it so personal. Yes -- I know -- I un-tagged it because of a personal reason, but it had nothing to do with them. They seem to think it did, though.

Their reply:

"Hmmmm k i just deleted the pic all together so its cool."

Well, I'm glad I saved it to my computer before they deleted it. I'm glad that I personally saved a picture that I loved because it was one of my best friends and I together. I'm still not sorry that I took it down off a public website because I'm still going through bouts of being ashamed of how I look.

And, yes, this entire matter is pretty much completely childish and immature -- on both parts. This venting I'm doing? I should probably stop and delete this blog already. But, you know, the great thing about the internet and about personal blogs... is I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DO WHAT I WANT WITH WHAT'S MINE.

--Miss Sarcastic.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Gone but not forgotten.

No, I haven't forgotten about you.

Yes, I've been busy.

Yes, I'll post about my last few days tomorrow, hopefully.

No, I will not hint about the eventful day I had.

Okay... well, maybe I lied. Here's some hints of the day:

  • 2-way arguments through rolled down windows between 2 cars on the highway.
  • pissing off a hitch-hiker
  • attempting to get a waiter fired
  • trying to purposely irritate an even more irritating foreign bridal consultant
  • breaking a wedding dress
It promises to be a long, amusing blog.


Until then, I'm going to sleep. My best friend's dad is having surgery on his leg tomorrow at noon to help with circulation with his heart. Serious stuff. :[ I'm going to sit at the hospital with her and her mom tomorrow.


-Miss Sarcastic

Friday, August 21, 2009

Don't pet me just yet!

Have you ever gone to bed feeling completely satisfied? Yeah, me neither.

Actually, today was a very good day. It started a bit rough, but I'm definitely not complaining now. I slept in until about 11am, potentially solved a serious situation by 1pm, goofed off at Wally-World with my amazing roommate, and ate chicken strips for dinner. Could it have gotten better after that?

Yes. Yes, it could.

I hung out with Kevin from 8pm-2am. He called me up and said he missed me and wanted to know if I could come over. I figured I would because as much as I hate to admit it sometimes with our dysfunctional relationship -- I missed him, too. I was originally leaving at 10:30 -- I was even in my car with the engine started. He had walked me out like he always does, and he was walking back up his sidewalk to the front door, then he just randomly took a 180 and came back to my car. I rolled down the window, and he asked if I could come back inside because he didn't want me to leave yet and was already missing me. I used to get sucked up into that rare, caring nature of his, but instead of getting all giddy, I just nonchalantly said, "Alright, it's better than going home and going to bed, I guess..." lol.

He's apparently taking me out to dinner tomorrow night. He wants to go to Olive Garden because he knows I love it. He doesn't like italian food... He literally probably won't eat if we go there, but he wants to take me there because I love the salad and he knows I rarely ever get to go. *tries not to get sucked up into the rare, caring nature* We'll probably end up going to Red Lobster, which is fine. I love Red Lobster, too. We always go there whenever we go out, though, because he loves their chicken strips and top-shelf margaritas. Ha.

I NEED TO SLEEP. It's 3am and I need to get up at 9. Actually, 6 hours of sleep is a good night for me. Why am I complaining? ^_-

So, I realized earlier today that I have a papercut-type cut on the inside of my left pointer finger. I think I cut it while cutting scrapie at work on Wednesday... to translate: I think I cut it with a razor blade while wearing gloves and cutting possibly infected sheep brains at work on Wednesday. For you to better grasp the importance of this... here is google's definition for "scrapie": a fatal disease of sheep characterized by chronic itching and loss of muscular control and progressive degeneration of the central nervous system. Think of it as the "mad cow disease" of sheep...

So, to recap: I might have cut myself while cutting possibly infected sheep brains. Super. I could have sheep rabies. There's never been a confirmed case of it transferring to a human... but I WOULD be that lucky first. >.> So, let's cross our cut fingers and hope for the best! In the words of my roommate: "So, if you start growling and foaming at the mouth, I shouldn't pet you?" Bahaha.

On that note... I'm going to attempt some sleep.

Buenos noches!

--Miss Sarcastic

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

This beautiful tragedy is crashing into me ♫

I hardly ever get headaches. We're talking like once a month, MAYBE. In saying that, I've pretty much had an ongoing one since last Wednesday. It lessens every now and then, but I usually end up going to bed with it. Tonight is no exception, and I would like for someone to please come over and smash my skull with a sledge hammer. I don't think it's too much to ask. Do you? I even slowly got into bed (moving makes it pound worse), shut my eyes and hoped I could slip out of consciousness for a little bit so as to relieve myself. Apparently THAT was too much to ask. I closed my eyes and started seeing brightly colored lines and weird designs, which made my headache worse. I wish medicine worked on me. I took 800mg of acetaminophen. I'll gladly take another 800mg and poison myself with ODing on it if I knew that it would cure my pain. Uhg.

I went to see my surgeon today for the first time in 2 months. My foot looks 100x better than it did the last time he saw it. I'm thinking that's because I've been going to physical therapy. They say that helps things, but, y'know, I could be wrong.

If you know me at all, you know how much I love and appreciate music. I listen to everything, and unlike most people that say "everything" but really only listen to the top popular 3-4 genres (top 40, rock, country, rap), I really do listen to everything. My old iPod (RIP) had over 12,000 songs and I lost track of how many genres. I had foreign songs (Spanish, French, Japanese, Italian), every genre of rock, oldies, jazz, instrumental, opera, techno, etc. I can find a handful of songs that are great in every genre. I don't think you truly love music if you only listen to one style of music. In saying that, however, I will always have a special love for anything rock... Ijust don't limit myself to only that.

Three of my favorite songs right now:
On a different subject, my tolerance and caring for a certain situation are growing thinner and thinner as each day passes with no change. I would say this saddens me, but like I've stated... I'm just becoming apathetic to it. It's a real shame, too.

Okay, I'm off to try and see if I can shut my eyes and attempt sleep without my headache stubbornly interfering. This white blog-post screen is not helping.

-Miss Sarcastic
P.S. ~ The damn street light is on outside my window again. *shakes fist*

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Let there be no light.

So, my roommate and I moved into this duplex at the end of July. The first night we slept here, I noticed that the street light outside our duplex conveniently lit up my bedroom in the middle of the night. It was like the apocalypse was starting. Jesus was returning (<--I wish). It was quite lovely, let me tell you. I'm also too cheap to buy curtains, drapes, or loads of aluminum foil. I complained about it quite a bit that next day and my mom came in to the living room that night (she helped me move in), and started laughing and said, "Did you throw a rock at that light outside?" which led me to have two thoughts: 1) Yes, my aim is phenomenal and I threw a rock with great precision at a 10inch bulb from 30ft below, and 2) THE LIGHT IS OUT!? Sure enough, the light was out. It was like God was having mercy on my already terrible sleeping habits. The light stayed out for a good 10 days. Life was grand.

This leads me to the present. It's been on the last 4 or so days. Last night I actually considered sharpening my softball skills and showing the light who's boss. However, God must have had some more mercy... or the street light is haunted, you know, whichever. The light is out tonight! I'm so excited to sleep, you have no idea.

I have to actually sleep some tonight because I have an appointment tomorrow at 11am with my surgeon. I had major reconstructive surgery back on my right foot at the end of February after a bad car wreck. I saw the surgeon pretty regularly, about every 2 weeks after my surgery. This time it's been 2 months. Since he last saw me, I went through 6 weeks of physical therapy and my foot looks SO much better (not swollen, finally). It's still hurts at least a few times a day, but I tend to just suck it up. Nothing could hurt as bad as it did the 2-3 days after my surgery. Anyway, I'm excited to see what he thinks about it. Plus, he's really hot... that's always a bonus.

That's it for now. I'll be back tomorrow.

Sweet dreams,
-Miss Sarcastic

Monday, August 17, 2009

Why couldn't it have been the sounds of silence?

I woke up this morning at 11am to the sound of dying. Okay, not really. That's what I thought was happening to me when I woke up to the sound of sorority girls chanting across the street. It was awful. Why did I move into this duplex? Oh, yes, because it's amazing and so is my roommate.

Something needs to change. Kevin went into hiding again yesterday. I haven't talked to him since Saturday night. I hate when he decides to be the insensitive asshole. It's so inconvenient.

On another note, I'm way too on edge right now. Everything is pissing me off lately -- mostly girls. Why do I have to be the girl that can't get along with other girls unless they're just like me in that they don't get along with other girls, so it works out great? Haha, yeah, that was just as confusing to type as it was to read, probably. In all seriousness, though, most girls are so obnoxious, annoying, and lacking in the brains department. Like, omg, I totally don't care that you got a mani and a pedi and found that super duper cute dress yesterday at the mall! Like, OMG! -_-

I want my mom to come up and bring my microwave. You never really realize how often you use a microwave until you don't have one for a few weeks. It's ridiculous. I make dinner and have no way to reheat the leftovers (I'm a college student -- nothing goes to waste!). I've tried using the stove to reheat... it, uh, just doesn't work very well.

Alright. I'm going to go take a shower.

--Miss Sarcastic

PS - What do you do when you want to forgive somebody for something they did, apologize to them for something you did, but kind of have no way to do so because you pressed charges against them in January?...

Scratch sarcasm -- it's an insomniac night.

This is my attempt at starting a blog. Okay, so maybe I've had two others that went beyond a few entries... but you haven't read those. Trust me. They shouldn't count.

It's currently 4:12am. Perhaps I should change the title to "Life By Way of an Insomniac."(<--I've already changed the title. Disregard that, ha). I could easily go to sleep if I went to bed, but I can't get the motivation to go to my room. Sad? Maybe. What is even more sad is that my time is being occupied by Degrassi. Stop rolling your eyes -- it's the only thing on TV right now that is not titled as "Paid Programming."

I've been feeling very poetic lately; probably the most I've felt in a long time. I haven't written much this year at all, which is surprising considering the roller-coaster year I've had with my accident and all of the detours that have come with it. I really wish inspiration would hit. I have so many feelings and emotions going on right now inside of me that I want to get out, but I can't. Writer's block is smothering me.

As cliche as this next statement is, what do you do when your brain says one thing and your heart says another? I used to believe that if two people loved each other, then everything would work out in the end. I say "used to," because I've been broken of that thought process. I loved and loved and loved, and cared and cared and cared... and what do I have to show for it? A "boyfriend" who can go days without talking to me. A week without seeing me and yet he lives 5 minutes away. A guy who tells me over and over that he loves me, and yet didn't put any thought into our 6 month anniversary on Friday. Hell, I had to practically beg him to let me come over so I could see him. When we're together, physically together, we're fine. It's perfect. It's when he locks himself up in that damned house and becomes practically a hermit that we start having issues. Is it so wrong of me to want to at least speak to the man I love once a day? I don't have to see him every day, hell, even every other day. Sadly, with how he's treated the relationship, I can go a week or two without seeing him and not hurt anymore. It used to hurt, but like I said, I've been broken of those thoughts and feelings. So, is it so bad that I want to at least get a "Hey, how are you?" from him once a day? Something to show that he cares and thought about me at least once that day? It really bothers me that he can go a few days without speaking to me like I don't even exist. I find it entirely selfish of him... which really isn't far from the truth. It doesn't even feel like we're together anymore. Part of me wishes we were still just best friends.

Okay, I'm obviously getting delirious and need some sleep. If you'd be so kind as to forget that last paragraph...

--Miss Sarcastic