A Rest

Its hard to write when there is always someone there that might look over my shoulder at the monitor. It's not even that I care if people read it. Well, maybe some people. but it's like doing homework with the very music you hate blaring in the background... it just isn't possible. It's distracting in the worst way.
What I wouldn't give for a laptop sometimes. Or, you know, a room to myself. Ah the life of a poor college student with a roomate with a boyfriend with several friends who like to party... in our room with beer. (Crazy country boys, gotta love 'em)
I'm just whining. I love it. Really I do. Sometimes you just need a rest.
A rest.
That's what this week has been about. Was supposed to be about. I suppose, though, that life has a way of changing your mind about what you think you need. Like how I stayed up until four in the morning with the boy. That's a different kind of rest altogether. Oh but, a hot tub and a foot massage. I mean, who can argue with that? That certainly is relaxing, even with the acrobatics that followed...
And now, I'm craving something entirely different...

Infallacies of Love

He asked me to marry him.

half drunk, on the dance floor;

he asked me to marry him,

He said this wasn't it. He was going to do it right.

He said he knew he was drunk but if he asked me tomorrow, what would my answer be?

I told him, "We'll see"

He never asked.

But today, I want to say "yes".

The Uglies

I just can't pull myself out of this slump. I feel awful and nothing is working to lift these frown lines that seem permanently etched onto my face.

I think I know what is the problem. I haven't had any time to myself for the last four days. There's always been someone in my room. I haven't been able to hide and bare the uglies. I have this block when someone else is in the room, I can't write, I can't think. I guess I'm just too much of a hostess. I let my guests run the show and I just accomadate them. I haven't had the time to release my emotions, and all this backed up baggage is really weighing me down.

And now that I have the time and space to let it loose, I can't. I have the sneaking fear that if I start unpacking that someone is going to walk in and I'll have to make a big rush to shove it all under the rug. And I might miss something, like a tear running down my cheek and then I'll never get rid of them.

*sigh*

I need a break from people. I need a three hour trail ride. I need some fresh air, wind blowing my hair. I need sunshine and a bubbling brook.

Most of all, I think I need to cry.

But then , why won't the tears some?

Winter Wonderland

I know, I know. I promised to write but suddenly our room has become the new cool place to party and I'm hardly finding enough time to sleep without interuption let alone write. But luckily class has been cancelled today and all our visitors are still asleep on the floor. At about 2 last night, after trying to fall asleep to the not-so-subtle background noise of screams of frustration, and cocky boasting, all brought on by mario kart which is situated within ten feet of where my head was snuggled on my bed, I finally complained and kicked them out of the room. Oh the joys of communal living.

Oh and then, I got a very cheery call from someone from Ambassadors at 8am this morning telling me that though classes had been cancelled and there was still ice everywhere I still had to give a tour of the campus and oh-by-the-way it been moved up four hours. Damn. I was not pleased. But I got up anyway and climbed over our guests to get to my closet for some clothes and went to breakfast.

I live a wonderful life.

Blissfully Boring

So no big revelations or heavy issues weighing down my heart this day. I've moved back to school and haven't looked back. I'm really comfortable here. There are things to keep me busy and breaks just long enough that I can actually relax and not feel like a total bum. Classes don't start until tomorrow but today was busy enough with the start of the Job Hunt; getting and filling out applications that I hate, then returning said applications to important people and flash an innocent smile that hopefully convinces them that I'm a good choice to hire.

I'm a hard worker. It doesn't even matter whether I like what I'm doing or not. I'm a work-a-holic so as long as I'm working, I'm in bliss. So hopefully someone will take pity on me and let me work myself to death.

I just want a job. I want a boss that I can respect. I want responsibilities. I want to be able to pay my bills with money I made. It's all part of that independance thing.

Roomate's Boy pestered me all night last night so I had to set him straight with a deck of cards. He's been pouting all day. Calling for a rematch that I'm going to win. Luck, my foot.

I'll be writing more over the next few months less class or natural disaster interfere...Or the campus network crashes for the umpteenth time (ah life of communal living!).
Nothing eloquent or special here today.
Just living and loving life.
My life.

Losing Control

I want him.

And I don't just want him sexually. Well there's definately that. But I just want him near me, holding my hand, stroking my shoulder/knee/arm, watching tv, reading, chatting to friends. There's a certain magnetic feeling between us. I desparately don't want to give him up even for a moment. I don't even know if I can put it into words anymore. It's all scrambled in my brain.

I try to maintain a certain decorum and be the queen of coolness. But when it comes to him, there is nothing cool about me. I want to be close to him but when I do get close, its like my body takes on a life of its own. It stops listening to what I try to say. Its a loss of control.

It's terrifying, frustrating, worrisome,

and completely and utterly addicting.

Fabulous

I bought this spectacular little black dress this morning. Spent money when I shouldn't have especially this close to Christmas. Waited in suspense all day long just to it home to prance around since the two minutes appraisal in the dressing room at Penneys.

I really can't afford this...

But it is fabulous.

I really can't be spending this money...

Its black, I would wear it more than once. Every girl should have a little black dress. It's a fashion thing.

It's a little snug...

It's sexy.

It shows my knees. I hate my knees...

Oh get off it, you love it. It is on sale...

...

This dress is so mine

I don't indulge in being female very often. I actually try to supress the impulse any time it tries to rear its ugly pink, fashion-consious head.

But this really is a fabulous dress. I'm so going to knock them dead.