Seriously, everyone?
Fuck you.

I'm tired of taking care of shit for you only to be disappointed by your actions later.
Just like I'm tired of the constant overload of guilt that you guys dump on to me.
I feel like my head is going to explode.

Also, I still can't read. Because I still haven't received my glasses.
The end.

As always, very good. It didn't last long enough, though.

So, I'm leaving for Louisiana, Sunday morning at 7:50.
It's exciting on so many levels.
One being that I've never actually been on a plane all by my lonesome.
Another being that I've never been to the deep south. I secretly hope that my sweet, Nebraska-Minnesota hybrid accent with charm all of those silly hillbillies into submission.
That was a joke.

But, seriously, I have a feeling that I'm not going to respond well to the heat and humidity. May in Nebraska freaked me out last summer--to the point where I thought that I was dying for a while there. Before you poke fun though, you have to realize that I am the most anemic little cupcake of a woman you will ever meet, and I've spent the past nine years living in a desert that wavers between face-chappingly dry, windy, miserable blizzard and brain-bakingly dry, windy, miserable sunshine on a day-to-day basis. Last week I was scraping a layer of ice off of my windshield, and today I had to hide in the shade with a bottle of ice water after I burned the fuck out of my neck and bare arms. Seriously.

Also, Swine Flu has been finally been confirmed in my state and there's a possible case right here in my county, in a town thirty minutes from where I live, which has gone unconfirmed, because, um, I guess, the test results haven't been returned or something.

So, let's hope that I'm not carrying the swine flu with me to Louisiana.

I decided to stay up late
Because I'm sick and I have a buttload of homework due tomorrow
And I may just skip work anyway
Instead of working on my homework, though
I went and looked for this song I heard on some television ad somewhere
Which I found about four hours after my search
Now I feel marginally better
The kind of better where I might be able to make it in to work if I really tried
But I've still got six pages worth of homework to do for class tomorrow

Ugh. I intentionally made that a crappy run-on sentence.

Thank you, Ryan, for fucking up some more of my plans.
You deserve a great, big round of applause for everything you've done over the past year and a half.
Thank you. Fucking thank you.

But, what I'd really like to thank you for is how Mr. Anderson sounded on the phone today.
When he thought Heather was coming (without you, which was a point he made several times) he sounded so worried and hopeful and exhausted that I just felt like dying when I heard that she wasn't going to be able to make it after all.
No, her parents wanted to see her a little too badly, didn't they? They're just trying to take her away from you, too.

Same with her little sisters, Kristi, Angie, Pip, Sam, me, and every other one of Heather's friends who love her and have not seen her in at least four months.
How dare they try to talk to her?
How dare they offer to take her out to coffee. How dare they suggest that she join them in a hot tub girls' night. How dare they invite her out shopping.

Fuck you. The only people who are more fed up with your stupid, immature, controlling bullshit than I am are Heather's family.

So, look at it this way; you aren't just hurting my bitchy, fun-hating ass, or Kristi's disgusting, homoerotic lack of moral fiber, you're hurting the people who made Heather as weird, funny, beautiful, and perceptive as she is today. You're hurting people that Heather loves, unconditionally--people who've loved Heather unconditionally from the instant that she was born.
People who have worried themselves sick over the position that you've thrown her into.

It makes me sick that you'll even speak to Heather's parents at all. In spite of the stupid bullshit you're putting their daughter through--stupid bullshit that they are completely aware of because you make no effort of hiding it--you've still got the nerve to speak to them and eat dinner at their house.
And, honestly, a man who is willing to demean, humiliate, belittle, and abuse a woman only to look her father straight in the eye later and say "I love her" is not a man at all.

Does anybody feel like killing someone kicking an ass for me?
There's sixty eight bucks, a carton of cigarettes, and my extensive zombie and Charlie Chaplin film collections in it for you.

I almost made this friends' only, but fuck it.

I feel like I'm at least two years behind everyone else.
It's stupid, but it bothers me.
I pick up on memes years late. I didn't realize that Lolcats were actually a thing until last summer. The same week that I discovered their absurd hilarity, I realized that most of them actually aren't that funny because, as it turns out, most people who spend all day taking pictures of their cats just aren't that funny.
I recently got into the PostSecret thing only to realize, that, HEY, there's an LJ community full of that shit...
...Also, for some reason, because all of the secrets are posted, it's whiny and obnoxious, instead of sweet and funny and sad, because not everybody on LiveJournal has compelling or even relevant secrets.
But everyone on the internet has already realized this. Now Lolcats are just used to tell trolls to GTFO, just as the weepy, self-important "scene" (wtf is "scene", anyway, guys?) girls laden with faux eating disorders and iPhone envy who pour their shame into MS Paint are to be mocked maliciously.
Which is how it should be. Unfunny things can be funny in the context of telling a bitch that she's being a bitch and it's more interesting to talk shit about shallow people than coddle them.
Of course, when the next years-old meme catches my eye, chances are, I'll think it's great until SomethingAwful tells me that it's obnoxious.

I've come to realize that the internet and I are drifting apart.

When I was eleven the internet was my best friend. In fact, when I was eleven, the internet was my only friend.

Now the internet is like the buddy yI haven't seen in a while. The one that I try to show this AWESOME FUNNY SHIT to and when I realize they aren't laughing, they say "Oh, yeah. I haven't seen this in like three years. Yeah, I used to think it was funny, but I guess it just got old."

I still have three papers to write.
But I think I'll take an nap first.

I've been diligently applying different colleges in Colorado that offer journalism majors.
There are only about three that do.
Awesome.

I can't hear anything out of my right ear.

So,
I really should reply to the email my ex-landlord sent me.
But,
I might just give him Sam, Heather, and Pip's email addresses and have them deal with it.
There isn't any reason why Andy should pick on me.

I had a pretty decent day. I mean, it might not have sounded that way from the Friends' Only rant I unloaded earlier, but it was pretty good.

I'm not dreading work tomorrow as much as I usually do.
I've got a new Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me! podcast, after all--not to mention about 20 other news-based podcasts that I can waste mass amounts of time with.
I've become a little bit of a political junkie back in Buena Vista. Partially, because United States politics are horrifying and campy in their own special way (I'm all about horrifying and campy things), partially because I feel like I should at least know a little bit about that shit if I want to be a journalist, and partially because there's not a lot else to do. I mean, if I'm going to get super-absorbed in something, it might as well be politics--as opposed to hard drugs, Bible-chucking fundamentalism, Magic: The Gathering, or bestiality.

Oh! And on an unrelated note--
My cousin, Natalie, is finally getting her Master's Degree in Creative Writing with a minor in Publishing Arts from the University of Baltimore. We received her graduation invitation today. It looked so pretty and official.
I wish I could go.

I'm so so so proud of her.

And her hard work to get her college done has always been a great inspiration for me.
I know that sounds lame and cliche, but she's one of the most incredible people I've ever known.
And I suppose I've always felt a weird kinship toward her. I mean, aside from the fact that we're cousins and everything, I barely got to see her. But, like me, she's the middle daughter. It's almost eerie how much our sibling relationships line up--we're both parked between a boisterous, directionless, self-affirming older sister and a tormented genius/rebel-without-a-cause younger brother.
When I do get to see her, it's like we grew up living next door to each other. We laugh at the same jokes, raise our eyebrows at the same displays of stupidity, and exchange looks of quiet, jealous contempt when our Amazing Aunt Cindy (I'm not being sarcastic here--Cindy really is one of the most amazing, fascinating, and ridiculously intelligent women I've ever known. To be honest, though, it's kind of annoying) goes on about her exceedingly successful daughter's overseas escapades.
But, of course, Natalie is calmer, prettier, more intelligent, and much more driven than I am now. A narcissistic little part of me would like to think that she was as anxious and bitter as I am when she was nineteen.
But, to be honest, if I grew up to be half as cool as that girl, I'd be ecstatic.

So maybe I will get a Master's in Journalism, instead of a Bachelor's. Maybe I won't have to work for a crappy small-town paper or the failing Rocky Mountain Newsblog.
Maybe I'll write books. Natalie can give me a good word with her publisher.

New hair.
The creepiest short I've ever done!
Also, check out the shirt my mommy gave me. =)

Retard face! =D
( Oh...there's more? )

Now, if you'll excuse me, I only got about two and a half hours of sleep last night and it's left me feeling...nauseous. You know that special kind of nauseous that you only feel when you don't get much sleep and you try to compensate for that by drinking mass amounts of coffee?
Imma go lie down.

As it turns out, the CU Boulder application for transfer students is due on April 1st.
So, like, ugh.
That means no weekend for Emily!

So...I'm working back at the nursery.
Because, as many of you know, I've moved back.
And I need money.

But working at the nursery makes me feel like an old person.
And...I'm there all of the time.
It's a little depressing.
Otherwise, it's nice to be working again.

I'm going to go see Nine Inch Nails, Jane's Addiction, and Street Sweeper on May 26th!
When things feel too dismal here, I just think about that.
Sam and I even bought tickets for good seats (!that's right, actual seats!). That's right. No general admission bullshit for this show. If Trent Reznor croons about making sweet love to somebody in an animal-like manner, I want him to see the look on my face as I pee myself in joy, goddammit!

Otherwise, my life back in Buena Vista is just as dismal as it ever was. It's like it was back in high school only, instead of getting grounded for doing stupid shit, my parents just tell me how deeply disappointed in me they are (which feels a lot worse than any punishment they ever gave me), and instead of my brothers' friends and peers seeing me as the cool upperclassman girl with loads of equally cool friends, I'm the weird chick who moved back to Buena Vista and has no friends or hobbies or anything.
Yeah.
Sometimes I can't decide if I was happier tearing my hair out with stress there or sitting like a dormant failure-virus here.
I'd almost prefer to live on my own in complete financial ruin than have my parents talk to me like I'm mentally ill every day.
I say that mostly because my parents' attitude toward me --their daughter who isn't going to heaven-- only seems to get worse as time goes on here, because the fact that they talk to me like I'm the verge of a mental breakdown makes me nervous around them, so I begin to act nervous around them--and because I'm acting nervous around them, they begin to speak to me in even more delicate and simplified terms.
Or sometimes they talk to me like it makes them uncomfortable. But they need to at least pretend to listen to me in my incoherent ramblings so that at the end of the day they can tell themselves that they're good parents and decent human beings because, y'know, they did the best they could.

I just get the feeling that I'm a lunatic being humored in this house.
Maybe I'm just paranoid.

So...
Summing Up Some Things That Have Happened
- I went and saw Watchmen, and that was good. Monstrously good. So good that I had a horrible movie-hangover after I'd seen it. It was definitely overstimulating to my ferret-sized brain.
- I finally received my copy of A Clockwork Orange in the mail. Surprisingly enough, I've never read it before, and seeing how it was $4 on Amazon, I figured I might as well buy it and give it a shot.
- I saw Midnight Meat Train as well, which was *okay*, but watching it alone in my creepy-assed basement at two in the morning made it pretty creepy at the time.
- I've been writing and drawing a lot more lately. It helps me to forget about what a failure I am.
- I haaaate it here.

Not a lot else.
Yeah.

Another text post. There are a lot of things I want to talk about...but I feel crazy sick.
//emily

So I have no idea if this mobile posting thing will work at all. If it does, then my angst will be portable!
//emily

[Edit:] It worked! Though, I don't really see a point in texting blog messages. I mean, it makes sense for Twitter, but I can't send more than 143 characters at a time.
...So...yeah.

I don't know how I feel about applying for scholarships that I have no hope of receiving. But at least I'm trying.

And I managed to make my temporary room feel a little more...
Emilyish.
(Of course I had to throw in the word 'temporary' to make myself feel better about everything. Honestly, it's only hopefully temporary at this point.)

I haven't had a lot of long posts lately because honestly, there isn't a lot to my days here.
Yeah.

Here's hoping I'll be able to afford CU Boulder next fall, right?

Lookin' at CU Boulder scholarships.
Wanting to sleep, but feeling completely awake.
Yep.

I rarely post this kind of thing, but the other day while I was in the supermarket, looking for Bactine (Donny at the tattoo shop had suggested that I should use Bactine at the first signs of infection, and I figured that, at the very least it might kill some of the germs that could cause an infection), I kept thinking that it was such a sinister sounding name for a First Aid product, but I think that it might be one of the coolest names for anything ever. It's hard to explain. I just love saying Bactine out loud. Bactine. Yeah.
Then I realized that I probably thought these things because the first time I'd heard of Bactine was in a JTHM comic.
I like to read this comic out loud.

Anyway, Bactine is pretty bad ass. Last night I accidentally dribbled some into my eye, which was painful, but otherwise I've been very impressed with the results.
In less than 4 uses of it, the puffiness and irritation of my new piercing has gone down immensely and it's stopped weeping.

Which is neat. But I've still got the bruise. I have a feeling that it's on the very cusp of healing, but for now it looks really gnarly and purple. Blah.