Retreating

I feel it's time to return to my journal. A place where my thoughts can be secret, and where my tears can hit the page to be kept forever (instead of making my computer sizzle.) For now my heart is to heavy to share with the world. And my words are to sharp to reason with friends. Back to the sloppy handwritten letters to a future self that may never come to be.
Back to the forgotten pages replaced by a screen. Because I'm tired of trying so instead I think I'll go back. Back

to being me.

Slowly, but Surely becoming a Cat Lady

Can you tell that I'm feeling quite

cynical,


pessimistic,


disenchanted,


jaundiced,


and


sardonic today?




Because if you can't i think you need some serious help.


Remember when the world was full of hopeless romantics? Remember the times when men were truly chivalrous and woman wore clothing that actually covered their body?

 Because i don't. What happened?  Was this generation truly raised in a sleazy, sordid, and immoral world?  (sometimes i feel redundancy is needed.)

I don't know if i can take love seriously anymore.

I'm not saying that's a bad thing, i guess.  It's just disappointing.

Most people don't take love seriously.. 

I just never thought i'd be like most people.....

Oh well.  I guess my broken family has corrupted my mind into thinking love doesn't exist.
Not that i blame them or anything....(: 




Who knows though? Maybe i'll find a handsome cat that's just as loving as a human husband... maybe even more loving(:

this is what the holidays have commenced.

i have seasonal depression,

and therefore;


I have writers block.  So instead of writing about things that are interesting and you actually want to read, i will write about my problems. (i apologize in advance, feel free to stop reading at any time, i tend to get carried away...)


I haven't talked to my mom in a total of 5 days.

I've never been in this big of a fight with her, and to be honest,

I don't want to apologize.


I mean it's not that i'm not sorry, i really am! It's just, I'm tired of being the first to express my regret.

I am beginning to loathe the taste of humble pie.




and to make it worse....


Our fight is sort of ruining Hanukah. . .  and Christmas too i guess.  So it makes it even more terrible that i chose not to put an end to my family's suffering.

I am a horrible person.




Needless to say, i've cried a lot... so i'm not entirely sure why i said it if it was needless....   


wow my writer's block must be worse than i thought.




But anyway....(not anyways, because that is improper.)


i'm not happy.

In fact. I'm never happy around christmas time (hence my seasonal depression, hence my writers block, hence my incessant complaining)

so maybe i should be complaining about the holidays instead of my ruinous humanity..... hmmm.....









apologies are difficult.

and sometimes i wish....

This is beautiful advise for any man who ends up reading my blog. It is written by Rosemarie Urquico. Try on my shoes, take a walk through these words in my mind, take a walk in these words, and see  what makes my heart swell.


here are my shoes and the words. Go forth.


"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.


Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.




She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality, but she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."

Today i thought my cat was famous.

I was looking on the internet for a scarf i liked when this picture came up of a girl using her cat as a scarf! and this cat looked just like spoctopuss (my little feline friend)




so i couldn't resist. i wanted to take a picture too.




Mine certainly isn't as beautiful because obviously i am nasty but i'm proud of my darling cat for looking like a model.




He is fluffy.




anyway... i just thought i would share that with you.




I promise i don't usually take obnoxious, dramatic, look into the distance type of pictures, but i couldn't stop myself... i really wanted to look as photogenic as my cat! Darn.. i guess i'll never be as graceful as spock.... what a man! ....cat man.... manlike cat? ahh i don't know.. i just like that frisky dude.




annnndd cut!

This my friends...

This is the epitome of me settling on something to wear....
........well in a perfect, fabulously gorgeous model form....
(i'm not exactly a what you say... "interesting to look at" kind of girl..... more of a  pass by, do a double take, and vomit in the nearest trash can type....)   (:  anyway back to the point.....

oh why?  Why on earth do i go through this every morning?

i could just wear sweats... but no! My silly Vogue-ified mind refuses to give into that comfy alternative.

CURSE YOU FASHION!

you have trapped me in your perfectly sewed web, and now i am sitting here waiting to be consumed by your spidery self!

....do you hear that?  I think it's the fashion spider coming to feast on and destroy my helplessly trapped sweat pant fetish.... Will I ever wear them again?

Tell my t-shirts i love them!

reality check...pshhh who cares!

Today i wished. Oh i wished so hard. i scrunched up my nose and squeezed my eyes closed so tightly i thought i might lose vision... don't worry i did not..... and i wished so hard my heart swelled and i felt young, oh yes as young as a budding flower just about to bloom,  and free... as free as a bird swooping throughout the skies. Oh it was magical!

then. i opened my eyes,

and reality struck.  hard.  i began to feel dismayed.  "oh what a silly wish" i thought to myself.  "you could have wished for this or that..."  The whole day i was so disappointed with my wish i found myself dwelling.

Alas, even so, i suddenly remembered how perfect my wish felt and how strongly i desired it. Furthermore a subtle, little smile twinkled across my mouth and i stopped my frets and got on with the rest of the day.

Now that i look back i so love my wish. I thank my lucky stars i aspired for such a thing at that precise moment.

oh i hope my wish comes true.
oh i hope the same for you
oh i hope our wishes sooth all aggression.
oh happy, happy 11,11,11