Save Rock and Roll (Save Myself)

I’m bored with all of the books I’ve been trying to read and with all of the shows I want to watch so I decided it was about time to come on here and write again.  So…yeah..I’m ending my Fall-Out-Boy-esque-hiatus now.  My hiatus was not five years nor did I release an underrated, killer record before going on break and then proceed to get married, launch a solo career, or have children during my hiatus…but this has been the longest break I’ve taken from writing on here, and in general, since…my sophomore or junior year in high school.  It’s a little unfortunate I didn’t write because I like to document my life, thoughts, and feelings…but everything seemed so…heavy at the time and the idea of writing anything…I didn’t perceive it as therapeutic.

During the last month or so, however, I have been documenting random thoughts/feelings into a journal by hand to at least get them out there and then I would organize them into the different Bullet Journal prompts I had going.

Anyway!  I am going to resume writing again.  I’ve been having an urge to write creatively over the last week or so…hopefully I can do some of that because I miss that.  In the meantime, I’ll blog a bit about what’s going on and I’ll start with an update since a bunch has been going on!

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The Eve Before More Surgery

I’m having surgery again tomorrow, but unlike last time, I’m not afraid because I already know what to expect.  Nonetheless, I’m not particularly thrilled about it, although it will be better to go through the surgery than to avoid it.

The surgery I had before, and the one that I’m having again, isn’t super serious; it’s purely a dermal procedure to ensure that I don’t have skin cancer and that I don’t develop it from what’s been considered atypical.  Despite this, the fact that I have to get surgery “to be safe” and “to check” for these things has confronted me with mortality more than before. Then, a month after my first surgery, my cousin was killed, which was devastating in itself while also further contributing to these thoughts about mortality.

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Staying Gold

The last couple weeks of the semester has caused me to feel glum due to stress over my academics as well as my social life. To sum it up: I am in the middle. The in-between. The grey area.

Every aspect of my life seems to fit that description. My sexuality and race/ethnicity, as noted in this post, my affiliated religion (I don’t identify as anything, I just don’t think about it), my majors (WGS and Economics)..I can’t seem to ever fall into one, absolute category. Perhaps it’s because I’m going and I’m still discovering myself and the world or perhaps it’s a false pretense that people can ever fall into one category. Regardless, this thought also applies to my friends.

I don’t have a clique or group of friends. Every time I think I do, I get proven wrong. It’s exhausting, hurtful, and lonely. I was complaining to my good friend, Steph, about it and she told me it was okay to be an outsider in the sense I don’t belong anywhere, I just have random friends here and there. She said I have years to figure out the friends I want to be making and who stays in my life too. She’s right but..I think the nature of college is extremely lonely without a group. Without a group, you tend to get left out and excluded. At least that’s been my experience. If I commuted, for example, I probably wouldn’t care at all about lacking a social circle.

Anyway..I’m writing because despite how much I feel like an outsider, a misfit, a loner, or whatever it may be, I’ve done some pretty badass things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have done them if I didn’t feel so alone.

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Greyness

Of course, he had decided to take the highway.  There was no traffic on the highway, so there was no stopping.  He must’ve known that if there was an opportunity to jump out of the car, I would’ve taken it.

I slumped down further in the passenger seat, my arms crossed over my body protectively as his words sliced through my skin.  He said we were having this conversation because he loves me, but I wasn’t feeling loved at all.  It wasn’t even a conversation; it was a lecture.  A lecture about me.  About what’s wrong with me.

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Full Circle?

My best friend at college, Tatiana,* is amazing.  She understands that I don’t want to hang out with the guy I mentioned in my previous post. He usually texts me but he’s stopped because he’s fucking other women, which proves he was only talking to me because I was willing to hook up with him. We were never friends, and we’re not friends now.

Anywho, she understands how I feel about him, and she knows how I want to connect more with her boyfriend because he’s super cool, so she brought us all together to go out to eat dinner and then party.  I had so much fun, I got super drunk.  We all took our shirts off and we were dancing on each other and it was just a ton of fun.  I ended up going home with them because I was too drunk to navigate my way back home.  Tatiana passed out and her boyfriend and I talked about the guy that they’re both best friends with and that has only made me feel like garbage, because he wanted to know what was going on.  It was a great conversation, despite both of us being super drunk.  Having that conversation caused me to want to do some snooping on my ex.  My drunken logic was if she could treat me poorly and find love, then there is hope for me too, although it’s taking a hella long time for someone to come around.

The next day, Tatiana came home with me for spring break.  She only spent Friday night at my house before flying back home to California.  We went out to eat dinner because she’s vegetarian and I didn’t tell my mom, so my mom was ill prepared to feed her.  My old job has very good black bean burgers, so we went there.  I hadn’t been there in about eight months or so.  The last time I worked there, only two people from the “original squad” were still working there, so I didn’t think I would see anyone I knew.  Well, I was mistaken because the first person I saw when my friend and I strolled in was my ex. She was taking orders at the register.

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