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yay_for_danielley
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Name: danielle Birthday: 12/20/1987 Gender: Female
Interests: Dir en grey, art, food, eating, sleeping, video games, my boyfriend, food, taking pictures of things, acting like a complete fool and enjoying every moment of it whilst others look on in terror. Expertise: Dir en grey, art, food, eating, sleeping, video games, painting with spray paint (legally, you wack person, gosh), food, taking weird photos of random things, acting like a fool for the sole perpose of disturbing others and making them feel uncannily awkward. Occupation: Artist Industry: Art
Message: message me
Member Since:
5/1/2005
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| i am an addict and i know no shame. it's ridiculous.
i always tell michael i want to be a strong woman who is not overly dependent on her boyfriend. in this, i have failed miserably.
i am needy and clingy and he is my enabler. i pine and i yearn and he caves and comes to rescue me from my evil rapunzel tower in la jolla.
it's really quite disgusting. i am the smoker who abhors their own habit, but can do nothing more than wallow in self-loathing whilst they light their cigarette. alas, cruel fate, it is true that i have sunk so low!
most of the time, mike cannot hang out with me because his parents want him to stay home. this is not a problem for people who don't live in evil rapunzel towers, who can drive to his house, no problemo. not so for danielle. danielle is stuck in her tower, in front of her tower (by which i mean computer. get it? because it's called a computer tower??). what i am trying to say is this: when mike is stuck at home, and ken and andrew go to hang out with him, i am consumed by jealousy. do not misunderstand. it is not the petty, i-can't-stand-that-my-boyfriend-has-a-social-life-and-his-every-waking-moment-doesn't-revolve-around-me-how-dare-he-have-friends jealousy. rather, it is the equally petty, infinitely more juvenile everyone-else-is-having-fun-it's-not-fair-why-can't-i-have-fun-too jealousy.
i don't care who is hanging out with who, or where they are hanging out. all i know is that somwhere my friends have congregated and are laughing and having fun, and i am stuck at home doing neither.
mike is the only one who gets to hear about these jealousies because he is the only one i call obsessively (see above section about inane addictions).
and oh, how the self-loathing pot thickens! i am now a comfortable sludge, stuck to the bottom of the pot.
i need a place where no one knows me. | | |
| it's that time of year again when danielle feels stuck.
i am having difficulty typing because i hurt my wrist and am wearing a brace so that my wrist won't bend. you never realize how much your wrist bends while you type until it can't bend.
i feel very frustrated with a number of situations that i am in. i would like to have both more and less of everything. (i had words, but they seem to have left.)
above all things, i absolutely cannot stand uncertainty and/or vagueness.
if my sister tries to hang out with me this summer, i will punch myself in the face. she really just doesn't get that i do not enjoy spending more than an hour per year in her company. i wish she did. how do you explain that to someone, especially to someone who is practically convinced that you are bff's for life?
my dad wants to buy me a car in Indiana and then, together with me, drive it to California. which would be okay, accept that he is insisting on doing it during my last week of summer.
i tried to tell him this wouldn't work because i have to move back into the dorms, and i cannot fly all of my things from San Diego to Indianapolis and then drive them to San Francisco. My mom and i have a system of moving me back in, and as my apartment this next year is unfurnished, it will involve numerous IKEA trips and interior decorating.
my dad responds: "i think you're making the situation far more complicated than it really needs to be." okay, dad.
he also would rather drive to San Francisco because his ailing mother and both of his sisters live there, and he only has so much vacation time each year, so why not kill two birds with one stone? question: how do you tell your father that his desire to visit your sickly grandmother just doesn't fit into your schedule? answer: you don't.
first it should be made very clear that she is not (to my knowledge) suffering from any physical ailment other than old age. when i say "sickly", i use the term to refer to her mental state of being. in otherwords, my grandmother is manic depressive and also suffers from a schizophrenic personality.
in any case, the fact of the matter is that his visit doesn't work with my schedule. i become very frantic when i do not have a week buffer period before the semester starts in which i can set my affairs in order. it is a very important buffer. do not upset the buffer. my mom and i have a system that has been in place for three years now. it is efficient and effective. why are you overthrowing the system?
the bottom line is this: i would prefer my dad just not by me a car and go visit my grandma. that is how much i value the buffer and respect the system.
unfortunately for me, my dad happens to be the world champion when it comes to laying on the guilt trip. why, god. why. | | |
| i don't know what his deal is. seriously.
today i changed my major to cell and molecular biology. it felt liberating.
i have these ideas in my head and i don't know where they come from. i think it is my brain projecting my own insecurities onto what i assume are other people's thoughts of me. wth.
i have always been lesser at everything. my sister was always more popular, more outgoing, more adventure-seeking, more courageous, more confident, better in school, etc, etc, etc. for once, i have stopped selling myself short.
i will tell you a secret: i have wanted to study biology since junior year of high school. when i first started applying to colleges, i typed "immunology" for intended major. mostly as a joke. i think the main reason i didn't make this change sooner is because i was focused on my ideas of what other people thought of me. in high school, i felt like most people viewed me as funny, loud, artsy, japan-obsessed, and laid-back to the point of never taking things too seriously. these were true to a point. i was am good at art, and at the time i was really in to anime and jrock, and of course i am the most hilarious person i know. as far as being loud, i definitely can't deny that i was. but this was more of a cover up. i'm a really shy person and i am terrified of people not liking me so i sort of overcompensate by being loud and cracking jokes at every opportunity. this i think contributed to the image of not taking things seriously, and other people, therefore, not taking me seriously.
i feel like i have never been taken seriously. honestly i try a lot to not be serious because i am naturally and overly-anxious person. i worry so much about things i make myself physically ill. obviously, then, i feel the need to combat this by taking the piss out of everything.
so now, 4-ish years later, i am being serious about my goals and what i want for myself and for my future, and i am terrified. everytime someone is suprised at my change of major, i am convinced they are secretly thinking i am not smart enough. everytime someone asks me why i decided to change majors, i feel like they are accusing me off making a bad choice, and i feel the need to justify my actions and defend myself and my past academic performance.
that, of course, is the biggest issue. i wish i could burn my transcript. i am ashamed everytime an advisor or a professor asks to see it. i am mortified that shitty grades represent my intelligence level.
it all goes back to that whole issue i had while i was on academic probation: advisors and professors and program heads and department chairs all look at your shitty grades and sneer. they tell you what you can and can't do like they fucking know you. they tell you what is or isn't too much for you to handle.
actually, i work better under pressure, thanks. no, i'm not stupid. no, i'm not lazy. no, i don't spend all my time partying. yes, i am aware that this is one of the hardest majors this school offers. funny thing, actually; i know myself as a student. i know myself as a person. i know that i can (though it sounds cheesey) do anything i put my mind to, and i have put my mind to doing this.
the thing about hearing 'no' is that the more you hear it, the more you want to prove that person wrong. and whether or not the things people think of me are all in my head, it's damn good fodder for lighting my competitive nature ablaze.
not to mention i enjoy the looks of suprise on peoples' faces when i do whatever it is they thought i couldn't. | | |
| my sister took me to the movies tonight.
it ended in complete disaster, of course.
for the record, i am not a saint. (i know we've been over this.)
i am expected to hold it together. i am expected to just let it go. i called my mom to tell her my sister wouldn't be spending the night because i told her to shut up. i couldn't help it. i really just couldn't handle one more second of her telling me what to do and how angry she is at me for running across the street and scaring her half to death.
everything i do, every action is "bitchy"/"condescending"/"rude"/"pick a negative adjective and place it here".
and of course, my sister storms off, shouting back at me: "i can't even go home because my boyfriend is sleeping in the apartment tonight!"
fuck.
i follow her and try to tell her to just come back upstairs and sleep on the couch, i won't even come in to the front room, i promise.
of course she won't have any of it. i am a terrible human being.
i stand on the street corner thinking "dear god: what do you want from me? i try everything, and still she is crazy. any kind of sign at this moment would be much appreciated."
my sister gets in to her car. i know her. she has to have the last word. always. she won't drive off, she'll make a u-turn and come back to talk to me. 3 2 1
she makes a u-turn at least god likes to show me i'm right. or that she's incredibly predictable.
i am told that my standing on the street corner is condescending. how dare i stand there. what more do i want from her, i already ruined the evening. i try to tell her i was honestly just standing. she doesn't hear me. i am exhausted. i tell her: "fine, go home. i tried to talk some sense in to you. just go home."
i am still not allowed to stand on the street corner. she won't go home until i go back inside. i stare at her, bewildered; i am at a loss for words. she demands to know what my facial expression means.
it meant nothing.
she demands to know why i'm standing there. "i'm honestly just standing," i say.
she finally drives away.
fuck. | | |
| in my family, i have been assigned the role of "saint"
i don't want it
i apologize in advance if this seems particularly dark and unpleasant i am only being honest with myself at least
i am at a loss as far as knowing how to stay one step ahead of you your words mirror everything your face my thoughts our behaviors
my fingers are bleeding and i am left on the corner it always ends in me staring after twenty one years i just can’t
as for my efforts i only ever wanted someone to acknowledge them but you only shake your head in shame and i wonder if this much was ever expected of you
i am prone to vices and i feel like my words can’t ever justify this and your face is sinking even as i write this and i can only think of so many excuses and
surely it is not only me who feels it is unjust to place such a burden on any one individual
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