Memoirs of a Melodramatic

Hi, Earth. Today is July 26th and in two days I will be nineteen. I wish this wasn't such a horrifying thought and I really wish I didn't have this terrible hatred for the number nine. But I mean, eight is a really great number and eighteen kind of sucked a lot. So, you know. We'll see.

In a weird place, in a weird blog post. Bah. I'm getting really tan for no reason, it's kind of weird. I haven't listened to music in a really long time. All I want to do on my birthday is drink whiskey and smoke a cigar, even though I hate smoking, and maybe play some Mario Kart. Well. I actually want to play Street Fighter. And hang out with the five people in the world that I don't hate. And..have a cute dress to wear. Everything is really super weird right now and I want to ride the weirdness wave to the end so everything can be normal again. Well, "normal".

C'est fin, I guess.

Things that make no sense to me.

I always admire people who can retain a positive attitude about life regardless of what happens. It's really such a simple philosophy to just not worry so much, and not to take everything to heart. And I find myself thinking, "Hey, yeah! You're right random tumblr post/Facebook status! I'm just going to be happy!"

And then I get my third parking ticket in two months.

HOW IS ANYONE SUPPOSED TO KEEP UP THIS WHOLE POSITIVE ENERGY THING WHEN THINGS LIKE PARKING TICKETS EXIST? And the thing is, I know people who wouldn't let this piss them off. What in the FUCK is the secret to life? How am I supposed to lead a life where things don't irritate me and I'm not so obsessed with the way the universe is treating me? But you know, maybe all these happy people are just a facade of the person that is actually hiding underneath that vomit-inducing smile? Maybe everyone is just as negative and cynical, it's just that some of us are better actors.

Man, fuck this bullshit. I kind of just want to be happy for more than twenty seconds. Thanks, universe.

I'm running dry.

Yesterday, I came to terms with my Bellatrix Lestrange hair.
Amen.

Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left.

Words floating like the vitreous humor of my brain. I need a new journal.

What am I doing. I'm looking at pretty pictures, and I'm being a girl, and I'm drinking orange juice that I for some reason squeezed myself, and I'm waiting to be able to play Kingdom Hearts, and I'm thinking about how I need to renew my passport today, and I'm wondering how silly it is that things can change so completely in a matter of thoughts and seconds, and I'm contemplating the rest of my life in vocational terms, and I'm wishing I had a job and an income, and I'm wishing my hair was always this straight, and I'm writhing in jealousy and period pains, and I'm regretting the Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and I'm anticipating eating the rest of the Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and I want everyone lovely to text me, and I want to use the word comely in a sentence and not because I forced it but because that's how my life is working out, and I'm concerned about how many different things I'm feeling in this moment, and I'm annoyed that I just reread what I've written because now I feel like everything from this sentence forth will be forced and unnatural. I feel like that period was an executive decision that I wasn't ready to make. I wish insecurities were endearing and they didn't drive people away. I wish being a girl and over analyzing and being jealous and needing copious amounts of affection and needing to be ignored and needing security and mystery all at once was something, again, endearing, and not something that can easily be retorted with, "Oh, you're just a girl. This is what girls do."

I want to continue being weird and I want it to be normal.

Je m'en fous

All I want out of life is to be Brigitte Bardot. Is this really too much to ask for? I can't express the pure irritation I'm feeling through pixelized text but believe me, there is irritation to be felt.







Pardonnez-moi as I drown in a sea of pity. <3

Snake, snake. Face out an open window.

I hate that I'm so terrible at school, but not even for real reasons. I hate that I don't feel like a productive member of society because I don't have a job and because I'm not motivated to totally excel in my schooling. I just hate feeling like everything has to follow some kind of guideline. Maybe if I knew what it was I wanted to do I would feel extra motivated, but for now I'm just going through everything like a ghost. It all seems really pointless and really high school, and there was definitely a reason I hated high school.

This is probably the cheesiest thing I will ever say in my life, but I don't give a fuck. All I want out of life is to be a good person and to kind of enjoy my time here. And if I'm going to be forced to waste my life away somewhere in order to make money and live a somewhat decent lifestyle, I would really like to already figure out what it is that would be. I'd be nice to just know what I'm good at already. I just want to live in Paris/Tokyo and wear cute clothes and be around people I like and never willingly force myself to interact with people and situations that make me miserable.

Blah. I don't know what any of that means. It's so much fun being a disoriented teenager. Meanwhile, I'm watching Empire Records and feeling a heavy dosage of 90's. And supreme jealousy because I'm not Renee Zellweger. Or Liv Tyler. Or Robin Tunney. Why is this fair?

And this song is really really really good right now.

Proceed. Amuse me.

First: I HATE DREAMS. They have the ability to turn reality into complete shit. I had a dream last night that my mother and I were looking for houses to buy, but we were in some crazy neighborhood where there were giant apartment complexes but each unit was the size of house. Also, the entire neighborhood was located on really green hills, and you had to climb all these beautiful stairs to get to each different unit. AND THE BEST PART, was that the building were all so multicolored and perfect. Like, turquoise and yellow and green and red..I guess kind of like Buenos Aires, but more French-styled buildings. And then some lady was telling my mom that her mother had passed away and she was looking to sell her house immediately for an asking price of $500. So then we go inside, and there's some silly carpet and it's super messy..but obviously we were like, uh..totally fixable. Buy it now. So we did. And then I woke up and life was not fun anymore.

Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I have a new phase coming on as far as movie watching goes. Still the 60's, but instead of existential-Godard, I'm really digging all the Swinging London stuff. They all make the time period look so cool and awesome. Trailer as proof.



Well, it's totally silly but in an enjoyable way..right?

We watched a movie called Billy Liar in my film class which is where it all began. It was pretty hilarious, which freaks me out since old movies never have non-cheesy humor. But this one didn't really seem outdated.



It's about some [really attractive] dude who pretty much lives in his imagination because he's too afraid to actually live his life in the real world. Oh hey, dreams being more interesting than reality kind of ties this post together..right? Haha.

Et maintenant, I'm going to watch Darling because it's on Netflix instant and because..why not.



Hahaha, man. I don't know. I'm aware of how ridiculous this all is, but I think that's what I like about it. The music and the trendyness is just great.

Oh and hey, speaking of the 60's, I discovered that I own Mad Man so I've been pretty into watching that lately. And by lately I mean last night. Adieu.