Cynical Cindy

I have so much love that I want to share (affection for babies, for animals, for humanity). But too bad all of this vigor for life's simple joys is stifled under a thick, fossilized layer of distrust and frustration. It's such a shame, that even I, the maker of this conundrum, is left tsk-ing scornfully at my pitiable confusion. The same goes for interactions with the opposite sex. So much expectation and readiness. But too many reservations. I can only offer one explanation for this complicated misunderstanding, one of the literary gems of our time, I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell. It's from this masterpiece that I learned the EXTENT to which some men objectify women, thereby solidifying my belief that chivalry, along with decent monogamous men, is extinct. Maybe this Tucker Max guy is the exception. Though from my first hand account of fraternity boys, I highly doubt that. Maybe I ruined it for myself. The nights that seemed like "story of Britney Spears' life". The trying to be something I'm not hoping that one day the suit would finally fit. It finally makes sense. I've been looking in all the wrong places for happiness. And working out problems at home is probably the best and first step I'm taking to figure out a new direction.

So here I am. On spring break, faced with an insufferable task. Spending much needed time to reconnect with a mother who had disowned me. Trying desperately not to be disgusted by a father whose image is tainted by horrible childhood memories. And praying for my ailing grandparents. It pains me to think about them. I'm so afraid to call them while their in the hospital because I'm not ready to think about what might happen. But at the same time I'm compelled by this feeling that it might be too late when I eventually build up the nerve to.

I fear the worst. I expect the worst in everybody. I know this and I want so much to be like my dopey positive thinking father. And it baffles me that I'm getting so overwhelmed by such trivial little things such as calling my grandparents or calling back a missed call that I don't recognize. Or anything that would put me at risk. It's this uncertainty that I should be thriving off of, that had at one time been addicting to me. Now, it's different. I'm investing less in people and the consequences of a fearless me of 2 years ago come back to haunt me. Right now I'm just trying to make things okay. And tomorrow, the Magic Kingdom may just be the antidote.


You know how people read fmylife.com and start to feel better about themselves. Not even others' embarrassing stories crack a grin on my face anymore. MAY DAY MAY DAY.

What I'm feelin: Belief (live). Gavin Degraw. "tonight you arrested my mind when you came to my defense. With a knife in the shape of your mouth. In the form of your body. With the wrath of a God." that was all from memory. Yes I love Gavin Degraw almost as much as I love puppies.

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To my one devoted reader

Haha. Thanks for commenting on my last post whoever you are. Although this blog is mainly a very one-sided (not one-dimensional mind you) conversation with the the screen before me, I jump at the chance to interact with my viewer(s). It's nice to know I'm not just some temperamental primate, running a muck in its cage, garbling nonsense to unsuspecting passers-by. I, moonlighting as a poet, playwright, may be considered the laughing stock of buffoonery. Or maybe I come off as a boozer, confused and delirious. But whatever the case, I do it out of love for life's less glamorous occasions, the unsentimental empty moments that drag until the wee hours. And here, I get to expound all my wishes and wonders, and in return, I get this wonderful feeling like when you use that Mint Julep mask on your pores. It's refreshing, cleansing, happy-making, but I digress.

The reason for this post is not really of real moral value, so if you're looking for a jolt of philosophical wisdom, come tomorrow please. It's more a study break or rather study distraction kind of post, with no direction, conclusion of any kind. But here is my mind map of the moment if you'll have it:

EAP deadline February 12. If I want to go to England, I better get off my arse, and do the bloody thing.
That 99 cent store energy shot did nothing but make one eye stop drooping.
Globalization theories are unsatisfying. As abstract as a Newman painting, but with none of the aesthetic quality that makes me want to put it up on my bedroom wall and stare at it before I fall asleep
That empty piano bench that is one giant leap away. I gravitate towards it. But physically constricted, I sink right back into the gingham, amongst an agglomeration of scattered books, course readers, printed readings, and unnatural supplements that supposedly make you think you can finish them all in one sitting.
Public relations. It's my job. I must sell things, people, events, ideas. I have 10 tabs of public relations ideas. Care to join me in this madness???

And with such a labyrinth of joy and sweet surprises, it's a wonder why I seek refuge in the little orange B on my bookmarks toolbar. It's just one more tab. One more hour wasted..or rather redistributed for the purpose of making better latent judgments...or not. As my computer slowly emits it husky whir, and my palms start to feel like their molded into the scalding keyboard hand-rest, I begin to think, maybe I should stop typing and start studying, like sensible folk do.

So taking my own advice, I'm off to revel in midterm bliss. Haha. Aren't we all comedians?

By the way, for any poli-scientist out there...what is this Obama stimulus package going to do to us financially?! Seems kind of counter-productive if you ask me. Of course, I'm not the most viable candidate for political debate. CNN hasn't been my preferred choice of programming since the summer months, when I was a gym-crazed political juggernaut.

Explanation: Since Obama became our nation's number one go-to guy, I've relinquished my haughty criticism of the demoralized U.S. political system. I trust this man, almost as much as I trust that there is chicken in chicken nuggets (not according to Ken Robinson, but he's British, lol).

ad astra per alia porci..a la Steinbeck. I love Latin-isms, they add that Sriracha kick to any dull post such as this. :)

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Just be rude

Rock of Love is ridiculous and is the secret to maintaining a healthy ego..haha

But from the looks of that gem of a show, I'd rather be chased down by one of those drunken messes, than be insulted underhandedly by someone I'm close to.

Oftentimes, I'll wonder...is consideration for others so hard? Is it that hard to not talk about something the other person isn't involved or interested in hearing? I guess that is my downfall. I can't get over rude behavior. (For example: rubbing in someone's face that they are taken and I am not.) Frankly, I don't care if I am single or if I'm not, but when a good friend has no consideration to even word the obvious in an un-scathing way, I don't see the point in humoring said friend.

Friends should not compete. And that is that. Maybe in a game of pictionary, ten-fingers, and the like. But if you are downright hostile, mindgames included...you have got to go. Of course, this example is only hypothetical...ahem..

End of storytime.

I've just had a long day that will continue into the night as I watch a sneakpeek of "The Uninvited".

AND Good NEWS!! I've finally received my Salvador Dali 2009 Calendar and my textbook from Barnes & Noble after a week of sitting by my mailbox waiting for a sign (lol, not really).

MOOD (cuz we all like talking about our problems): slightly dizzy from lack of sleep, hungry, holding back rage, but hopeful for better things to come.

Signed,
"Praying for stupidity to offset the scariness of 'The Uninvited'"

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