Do you want to dance?

My titles are always song titles.

My brother is sitting at the airport, delayed and frustrated I am sure. There is nothing we can really do, we do not live close enough to come to his rescue for a few hours. I sincerely hate flight travel and anything government related, really.

Christmas eve and day are over, over, OVER! Thankfully I made it through without completely exploding, but there were a few close calls. I swear, swallowing my anger and defensive urges is hard because they eventually boil over and must erupt somewhere, on someone usually. It has been like this the past year or two, maybe three. It is really hard to say. My memory is \s h o t\. I can't recall the simplest things, I have dementia most likely, at an early age though? How could this be, unless I am the freak of nature that I suspect, therefore proving myself right, which is rare but worth it I suppose. To be right, ahh, what a feeling. I like to be right. And why not?

So uninspired. I need to change this blog around, like pick a theme and stick to it, or something more exciting/entertaining then my boring, absentminded, drug-fueled thoughts over and over. Maybe add some pictures or something. I shall figure that out later. I actually have free time right now, what I have been craving. However I do not know what to do with myself. So I guess I'll just be.

Fakin' it.

I think we all fake it sometimes. Fake happiness, fake sympathy, fake caring for someone, fake out our teachers.. the list goes on. Simon and Garfunkel's song "Fakin' it" is fucking siiick. This whole greatest hits CD is really awesome. This music is beyond groovy; it relaxes me. I can relate to a lot of their lyrics. Now I am not saying I am a big faker. But it is quite easy to be. Especially regarding school, haha, I make my teachers think I care soo much and do all the reading. The truth is I think I get a huge rush out of waiting to the last possible second before beginning my schoolwork. Then I fly through it, with all the pressure, and come up short. Of course I come up short. But for the most part it gets done. I guess I like to get away with doing the least possible amount of work, which is truly pathetic. I will not get very far doing that, I recognize.

My mind is seriously foggy and clogged. I have had writer's block for ages it feels like. Maybe that is an excuse, I don't know. But truthfully my passion for writing has gone out the window. I know that I suck at writing. I certainly never get any props for it. I can't write poetry, I can't write prose, I would never have the patience to complete a memoir. It gets me down. Like this blog for example. If you ask me it is chock full of complaints and immature self doubt. I think I crave reassurance. Well guess what girl that is no way to get by. I am ridiculous for thinking people would actually someday pay for my work. I actually considered being a "freelance" writer, as a way to earn money, so sad, but true. I will never be good enough. I have no career ambitions, no chance at success, no ideas, no brain power, no talent, no nothing. Nothing. This is pessimistic but I am realistic. I am nobody. I am in college, two semesters down now and I still have no clues. Did I actually think I would? Yes, I had hope.

I long to play "Operation". It sounds pretty fun right about now. Pulling shit out of a body with tweezers. Maybe I should be a surgeon... Heck no!!!!

There was the girl in my poetry class. She could sing and speak with inflection; she was a musical theatre major. I was studying her the other day at our poetry slam, and realized something. She is stuck up. I thought she was kind of cool, kind of ballsy (for singing opera in front of our class). My opinion has changed however. I like to study and watch people, especially when I am high. I feel like I can know them, at least briefly, for who they really are. I can tell when people are putting on a show, and I do not really understand it. I can relate to it though. Sometimes I have to literally act confident. I have to tell myself to be a certain way, or else I will sit there so quiet, so withdrawn, so invisible. It is not fair how some people have it all: talent, intelligence, comedic value, good looks, money, a car. There are seriously people that have all that. And what about me? I try to be grateful, for my health, my life. But what else? Is there anything else really? Or were all of those things I listed completely superficial. How sad. I want to know the difference. I want to be different. I want to be someone. No matter how I look at myself, when I look within I see significance. I have to, have to, HAVE TO remember this.

These waves of confidence and then insecurity, star power and then shyness. Never ends. N-E-V-E-R. Make it stop. PLease. STop. Be normal. Be free at last. Quit being a slave to your brain. It will not guide you. Follow your heart and God, Sarah. If not then I think you will always be screwed over, stepped on, stabbed in the back, lied to, talked about, mistreated. Yes I am talking to myself as if I am another person. At this sincere moment of crazyness, it is time to log off. Good night.

Yes yes yes!

Today's goal is to stay positive. Hence the title of this blog. I need to think positively, speak positive words, etc. I hate using etc. Oh crap. "Hate" is not a positive word. Ok. I prefer to describe things or thoughts rather than writing "etc"...but my mind is blank. This is more difficult than I assumed. Here is the list: I woke up alive. This is good, I did not die in my sleep (hey, it could happen). Next, I took a groggy shower. This was nice, I like hot water and smelling clean. I enjoyed a banana. Bananas are shaped like dicks. Haha. I smiled while typing that. Also, bananas are healthy. More positivity!!! I spoke to Ben. This is a good thing. I kept my tone light, and blabbed about myself. A nice morning telelphone call will start anyone's day a little better. Oh man. All these happy thoughts seem strained and forced, illegitamate and pointless. I digress. Sarah you are happy: ) You are positive! OK next, I went to class, one of my favorites: World Poetry. Class was interesting, as usual, and went by fast. However, I did show up late (whoops) and made a crazy comment. But on a positive note, I feel as though my teachers are getting used to my various eccentricities. It is part of my unique and exacting character.

Enough of this.

No matter what I do, what I try, or think, or type: this is not me. I cannot be that fake. I can be grateful yes, but my writing comes out much more natural if I stay focused on not focusing so hard!

Time for dinner with a friend, and after that I simply must MUST MUST get cracking on my paper. Seriously. Now it is due tomorrow. Now maybe I can concentrate. Hey maybe if I get it done I can see him tonight. That would be relieving. I can't think so far ahead. I know me. I will be working until four in the morning. Sigh. Get a clue. Get a life. Get some ambition. Take pride in your work and enjoyment in philosophy. You know you feel cool mentioning that it is your minor. Well maybe not cool per se, but most definitely intelligent. This was my pep talk. Time to go, live, dream, and take action!

Summer I need you.

This blah day is dark, cold, rainy, and miserable. I have accomplished nothing. I am a lazy fat fuck. I have wasted 5 straight hours doing nothing but napping, which ended bad because of a horrific and vivid nightmare; surfing the internet for nothing in particular, and this includes face booking like crazy; and stuffing my face with disgusting, fattening, greasy, fried food: I had 4 mozzarella sticks dipped in marinara sauce and a large (unsalted) soft pretzel dipped in artificial orange cheese for dinner. What a waste of life and space and time. Ugh. I hate me. I wish, what? That I could go back in time to 5 pm when I got out of my last class? No, not really. Because it was already dark then. And I wanted to do nothing but go to sleep. I have been stressing hardcore about the three papers I have to write this week. I stress and stress and do nothing about it, just think and cause myself breakouts, anxiety, and misery. Not to mention the clear and obvious weight gain. Wow I feel so sick. SO sick. I wish I could just puke everything I ate today up. I wish I could move away to somewhere warm and tropical and without worry and snow. I wish I wish. I wish. I am tired but wired. I am sick and sad. I am bored and restless. Music is not helping. I need help.

Why world????

I do not know if making CNN.com my homepage was a good idea or not. Every single day there is a tragic, horrific headline. I am filled with disgust. I can not believe the people in this world. I am so sad. I am so angry. I hate the fact that there is so much hurt, suffering, pain, sorrow, fear. There are accidents that could have been prevented. There are wrongful deaths. There are shootings, stabbing, murderers, people being sentenced to death who in fact are innocent. There are school shootings, drownings, suicide, illegitimate practices; I could go on but I am in no mood to think.

I can't concentrate. My hands are shaking. The keys are being tapped so hard I keep making mistakes and going back with the back space and attempting to fix the word and my original thought gets fucked because my brain is in fight or flight mode and I cannot for the life of me remember what it is I wanted to say. I am so sad. I am so mad. Why. People are so ignorant are stupid and dumb and thoughtless and unintelligent and trivial and superficial and rich and poor and hurting and suffering silently. There is no out. No release. Nothing nothing nothing. I hate this planet sometimes. I hate myself too, for my many imperfections. I screw up like crazy. I make mistakes; I punish myself. I cry and ache and scream and yell and hurt others. I am good at ignoring or just plain forgetting about people. Because I do not always care. I never care. I rarely care. I choose when I care.

My hands are filled with ice and shooting pain, my fingers clenched as if I just braced my entire body for the jolt and breaking glass and screaming silence of a car wreck. My shoulders are tense, my heart is rapid, my breath is ragged. I am tired. I am wired. I have so much to do with no chance of getting it done adequately. This fear and knowledge of failure is propelling me to do what? Not thrive. That is for sure. I am procrastinating and skipping things and will certainly pay for my ridiculous behavior this semester. I do not know where the fuck my head is. I can't feel my heart. I take pride in nothing. Or something so damn simple and superficial it is not worth mentioning, but I will do it now, just to prove myself right. I take pride in getting a guy to notice me or talk to me or buy me a drink or bond with me over scraped knees. The meeting of the eyes, the Cheshire cat smile, the inviting gestures, the hair flip, booty jut, hair twirl, winking, blinking, snickering bitch that I am.

Fuck this.

My roommate is another one of those. ^^

She is seriously immature and I have two more weeks and all I am thinking about is suicide or killing her. God bless our souls. I am sorry for my evil thoughts but I am sick and tired and just ready to make moves. I just went to press "Publish Post". I stopped myself. I should not end this post here, that would be too dramatic and too like me. So my last comment tonight will be this. I just watched the film adaptation of "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham. It thoroughly depressed me. I am now sad. I am crying tears like raindrops that wash away this world's innocence and laughter and covers it instead with muddy acid rain. That did not even make sense.