Permanently black and blue

Things I like, version 2:

• my chill playlist on iTunes
• talking to people as they walk through the door while I'm working at the front desk (it makes me feel popular)
• finding things that I lose
• jewelry
• the sun coming in through the window
• shiny things in general
• seeing my favorite boys wearing suits
• my favorite boys in general
• looking at stars
• great conversations with friends I've never really talked to before
• texts from friends that make me feel loved
• Better Than Ezra

Things I dislike:  mean people. Grrrrrr.

This is the story of a girl

I really don't like being around mean people. Honestly, I kind of can't stand it.

I always like people until they give me a reason not to. Sometimes, they give me a reason to dislike them right away, and then it's really hard for me to get back to a spot where I can be okay with them. But that's not the story I'm telling right now.

Mean people. Why? Why are you like that? I don't understand. What makes you feel so good about making other people feel so terrible? Sure, your comments might get some laughs. But what's the point?

The biggest problem I have with mean people is that they make me feel like crap. Since I try to always see the best in people, I turn most of my negative feelings on myself (as I'm sure you've noticed). So then when other people say negative things about me, it hurts even worse than it probably should. One person in particular does this to me. Usually I think he's pretty cool and I enjoy being around him. Often he has those moments where I think, "Wow, he's just really amazing." And then he has those moments where I think, "What the hell? Where is my friend and who's this asshole that replaced him?"

He can tear people down sooo easily, especially me. I constantly feel like I'm being judged when I'm around him, and that feeling has always been one of my biggest issues. There are times when I want to leave dinner just so I don't have to be around him. Some of my friends can get past this easily and see him as just a wonderful person, but I can't get to that point. I think he's great, but not all the time.

*rant over*

Shattered

I can't even glance up,
afraid to look you in the eye
silent sobs suppressed into shudders
hearing the words you say
and not buying a thing
I don't even try to hide the disbelief,
shaking my head
because it's all I can trust myself to do
please, repeat repeat
repeat
repeat
until I finally believe.

This week the trend

EDITEDDD.

I've added two pages to Tall, Red, and Freckled, just in case you haven't noticed. I spent most of the class I'm currently in doing this. It was just one page when I added it last night, but then I realized half the information was about me and half was about my blog. So I split it up and added a few things.

YAYAYAYAYAYAY

A kiss with a fist is better than none

Things I like:

•  purple, teal, grey spelled with an e, and black
•  chocolate hearts
• Tootsie Rolls
• Diet Mountain Dew
• Diet Dr. Pepper
• rum
• rum and Diet Dr. Pepper
• friends
• laughing
• dancing
• Florence + The Machine
• The Kollection
• jeans that fit a little bit loosely
• cute underwear
• the smell of men
• men's voices
• men's bodies
• laughing men
• men in general
• friends
• laughing
• men
• lame teen movies
• friends

Come on, show them what you're worth

I'm a firework.

The smallest things can set me off.
I explode in bright, burning
streaks of laughter
loud and unashamed
demanding your attention.
I burst in spirals, turning
around the dance floor
sure and liberated
feeling your eyes on me.
I'm like watching a show
on the fourth of July
drunk, amazed, awestruck
sensing beauty in the air
clouded by the smoke
that accompanies my fire,
feeling the crowd around me
intoxicated by the alcohol
and the emotion, blending
to make it the best night ever.

These are my confessions

It's time to admit some things about myself. I don't always feel like this, but I usually do. Fuck, I don't even know how to start this. There's just so much built up inside me right now.

I hate nearly everything about my body. (Yes, I'm a typical girl with typical body issues, plus some. So if you don't care or don't want to hear it, stop reading.) Why, you ask? Well.

I'm 6'0 tall, which has always been awkward and not cool in my book.
I never use scales because they make me cry.
I realize that as a tall person, my ideal body weight is greater than people who are normal heights, but I can't help it.
Born to dance? Fuck that. If I were born to dance, I would be less than 5'6 and around 100 pounds.
Shopping is usually fun...when I'm looking at accessories. When it comes to trying on clothes, I almost always end up discouraged and angry because nothing ever fits me.
Jeans are nearly impossible for me to find; I have to get at least extra-longs in one of the largest sizes because my hips are so big, and I spend hours trying them on and find maybe two pairs.
I don't realize it UNTIL I try on jeans that my hips are huge.
(I actually really like having curvy hips...only thanks to Ryan.)
I was told once that my eyes have a unique shape, but that only makes me think they're weird.
I think I have a really big forehead.
I only like my hair when it's straight, but it takes so much time and effort that I hardly ever do it.
My feet (as I wrote about it my recent post) have calluses from dancing for 14 years, and I'm convinced they'll never be smooth.
My hands are too small for someone my size.
I have small shoulders, tiny ears, and an extremely short upper lip.

Last but not least, what I hate most about myself: my insulin spots.
There are hard deposits about a centimeter below my skin that came from doing too many injections there in the last twelve and a half years.
They're horrible. To me, they look like two little tumors on either side of me, in line with my belly button, just inside my hip bones. They have little bruises around them from other shots. I hate them with every fiber of my being and sometimes I just want to take a knife and cut them out.
They're the only things I really try to hide from everyone. Sometimes I wear leggings under my jeans and tell you it's just to be warmer...but I wouldn't tell you it's also because they can hold in my insulin spots. I wear a sweater or a jacket every day, just so I can cover them up.

A recent excerpt from my journal (I know, a journal with stuff that's not already on my blog? Crazy, right?):
"It's nights like these that make me want to run back to him. The one who would rub aloe as gently as he could on my severely burnt back, the one who once told me I was perfect, the one who would kiss the insulin deposits under my skin that I hate so much. He would hold me while I cried, my forehead on his shoulder and my face stuck frozen in a sob that felt like it would never end. 0.09% NaCl solution coursing down my cheeks, chest caving in like my heart was a black hole, not feeling the need to breathe."

Even when I've tightened my belt by a notch, when I know that my stomach's full of air because I ate wheat today and not with food because I ate too much, when I've felt so good about myself earlier in the week...I can't escape the tears that are so ready to spill.

My whole life has been "don't tell Ali"

That's why it kind of hurt to see that on your screen. But maybe I'm just over-analyzing (I tend to do that...). Everyone deserves privacy.

I'm just so dang curious! Especially when I'm on the wrong end of a secret.

Alive

calloused and bruised
my feet, my soles
my soul
perpetually searching for a beat
dancing eternally without rest
seeking perfection
unattainable and demanding
screaming out in pain
for days after rehearsal
the only time I feel alive
stinging and burning
throbbing and loving it
my feet, my soles
my soul

Babies make bad things better

Especially when they're adorably fat, happy, and lovable.



We went to the hospital again to see Uncle Mike. He had a rough day - his meds were giving him an erratic heartbeat (which is not favorable after a heart attack...), so he had a busy day trying to get that under control. The doctors switched his meds, but he's absolutely exhausted. He seemed like he was in a half-asleep state, and we weren't able to see him for a while. When we finally did get to see him, he was super nauseous. He looks just like my grandma did when she was in the hospital the last time I saw her...like I said, rough day.

BUT...I got to see Cale today. That made everything soooo much better.

I call him Bubba. He's such a chub, and it just fits him! I automatically call him that when I see him. My Aunt Susan (aka Bubba's grandma) heard me call him that, sooo long story short, Bubba is Cale's new nickname. :) Aunt Sue (NOT Aunt Susan, but my mom's sister Sue) said something about knowing a guy whose nickname was Bump because he was chubby - I don't really get that one. Aunt Susan was holding Cale, and she looked at him and said, "Cale, are you a Bubba or a Bump?" Cale immediately made this adorable little noise that sounded like he said Bubba! GAAAAHHHH CUTEST THING EVER. I love that little man so much.

So basically, rough day made better by a baby.

In addition, credit for making me feel better is also due to Steph. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I needed someone to just focus on me for a little bit, just to be there and to listen. Also, to provide hugs. LOVE YOU.

Lost, fading to grey

My uncle Mike had a heart attack on Monday. Apparently it was a pretty bad one, because he's getting a quadruple bypass right now. Mom told me today, which is Wednesday (why do I always find these things out way after the fact?). I guess maybe she didn't want to stress me out too much, because I started classes on Monday. It's understandable, because I'm pretty stressed out now. I was supposed to call Diana, the PA from Dr. McCashland's place, to get more information about my biopsy, but I couldn't handle that. I'll call her when I get out of class and explain the situation. Heck, maybe I can just stop up there tomorrow and talk to her in person.

I don't have classes tomorrow, so I'm going to UNMC to visit Uncle Mike with Mom and Aunt Sue (who's currently on her way here). Until then, I'll do these things:

• straighten my hair finally
• go to dinner
• go to the basketball game
• have fun
• dance
• laugh
• come back and go to bed
• pray, pray, pray

Much thanks to Bill, Chris, and especially Patrick, who were so comforting this afternoon.

Your whole life waiting on a ring to prove you're not alone

I'm failing at this whole positive outlook thing I've been trying to do lately. It's been a rough week, but l know it will get better.

How do I know that, you ask?

Well, I didn't cry last night, although I could have. I have 3 and a half hours for a lunch break today, so I can take a decent nap. That could be part of the problem - going from adequate sleep to not nearly enough of it. But like Patrick said, everyone's finally home! We're having a floor meeting tomorrow night and it will be wonderful.

Plus, I'm going to the basketball game tonight with Steph, and my 4-day weekend starts tomorrow!

Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?

Well, fuck.

I know. I'm a shitty friend.

I constantly feel like I need to apologize, even when you tell me that I have nothing to apologize for. That's a boldfaced lie, right there.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for pushing too hard, for caring too much, for overstepping your limits. But it's only because I love you.

No, not that way.

I love having you in my life. I love that I felt happy just listening to you that night over dinner that neither of us really cared for. I love that I feel comfortable around you, no matter how awkward the silence is. I love how you are so real when you let go and dance. I love that we're both attention-whores. I love how I know I can trust you.

You know some things about me, even some that most people don't see. I think you think you know me. But have you ever really asked?








No one has.

Where do I go from here?

Sometimes I just feel lost.

Like everyone around me knows exactly what's going on, exactly what they want.

This is why I hate going with the flow and being flexible. When I follow the rules and keep on the straight and narrow, I know what I want and where I'm going.

But then people have to complicate things. People who know what I don't know, people who are even worse at figuring out who they are than I am.

It's that second set that messes me up. I'm naturally drawn to people who need saving. I want to be a safety net, to be the one that someone credits for rescuing him (or her, of course).

But then...when will it be my turn to be saved?

Family pictures

Some ADORABLE pictures of baby Cale, my parents, and me :)

Wow, I look so much like my mom.
Babies. I want to hold them.



He kept attacking my face!

HOW CUTE IS THAT?

I like to dance

I asked him questions
craving words, history, secrets, wishes.

For once he gave in
and let me listen
to the poetry of life
flowing easily from his wide mouth
that pulls into the sweetest of smiles.

Requiring nothing but a listener,
he spoke.
Life, friends, relatives, self
weaving together
forming a man
in progress.

Sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away

In three days it will be a year
since I walked out of your house
with no intent to return
rivers from my eyes
as your face crumpled in pain

But now I can't get you
out of my thoughts
and I need to bring you up
in conversations with people
who either hate you already
or never knew you at all

Tell me this:
why the fuck do I still care?
What's the point
in thinking of you anymore?
I give up.
Finally, I'm done dealing
with the memories I left with.

A Year of Change

That's what it says on the front of the newspaper sitting in front of me. Howwww truuuue.

This year will be full of:
- friends that I love with all my heart
- being a good student
- exercise
- writing
- self-discovery
- love
- fun
- respect for myself
- respect for others

This year will be free of:
- gluten (yayyyy confirmation of celiac sprue)
- self-loathing
- contact with people who don't deserve it (I think we all know who that means)
- feelings of hatred
- chasing after guys

There we go. A year of change, 2011.