Ah, 2011... you're close to coming to an end. What... you have like... four more days or some shit to wreak as much fucking havoc as possible before 2012 knocks you off your podium?
It's bitter sweet... because I fucking hate you... so I'm sort of stoked to see you go... but then... that means it'll be 2012 and I turn a year older. Christ.
So here, as a nice goodbye, I'll list what I'll miss about 2011, and what I'll be more than happy to never encounter again.
The Good
I'm digging deep here... not much "good" can be taken out of this godforsaken year.
What most sticks out at me is the travel... the wonderful, remarkably fun travel.
For the first time in ten years, I did not step foot in Mexico, and I thought this was going to be shitastic.
But I was proven wrong (apparently the theme for this year-- proving me WRONG).
I dillydallied in the East Coast quite often, even hitting DC twice in three months.
There was also the dreamy New York trip. It feels so hazy in my memory... like it never really happened... because I had so much fun. It was one of the few times my heart "felt full."
There was Jersey... which, well, that too was interesting... even if I felt inadequate as FUCK the majority of the time (imagine that... feel inadequate in JERSEY).
There was Atlanta... even if that's considered the south... it touches the motherfucking Atlantic, so I'm calling it the EAST Coast. Anyway, it was a short trip, but it was some of the best hours of my fucking life.
Mmmmm... travel. You were good.
I'll also consider my... I really need to find a good phrase for this... one that won't make me feel stupid or corny or lame or trite... you get the idea. Let's just call it... oh god, I feel retarded... let's not give it a name. Let's just say "the obvious." The "Oh shit, AnoMALIE's smaller!" subject.
This one's "good" because, while it upset me to see people's treatment of me change, it made ME happy.
I now have a new life. Many consider it tasteless or bland... but I consider it healthy, fun, and exciting (yeah, exciting. Not only do I love the physical changes, but reading labels and noticing the shit people ingest kind of gives me a rush... it boggles my mind and trips me out. HOLY SHIT! 26 GRAMS OF SUGAR FOR ONE SERVING?! WHAT THE FUCK?!).
Dude! I also had a fucking job for the first time in my life! That was good... even if the end was... well... something...
The Bad
I'm a grouch.
It has gotten pretty bad. My fuse is nearly non-existent. My road rage... holy shit, my road rage is out of this world.
This new-found grouchiness (don't get me wrong, I've been moody my entire life, I have plenty of proof to back me up there) even turns me off, but it's SO fucking hard to chill out. I have no clue how I'll fix this... since my first thought--doing some yoga-- is a no go, because I'm too cynical for yoga. I laugh the entire time... laugh and scoff... which is so disrespectful to those who DO enjoy yoga... I'd rather not be anywhere near to make THEM feel bad (I'm a cunt, but I really do remain quite considerate of those around me. It's a strange, probably schizophrenic type deal).
ANYWAY, I'm fucking losing patience here, let's just get to:
The WTF IS THAT SHIT?!
(I swear, that was not intentional... it just happened that way... like my numerous accidental puns.
I'm just tired, and this post is taking forever to type... and my mind is wandering all over the fucking place. I just want to finish)
The obvious thing in this section is the rejection letter drama.
Obviously.
I seriously underestimated how long I'd be reeling from that shit.
It looks so easy to recover from that shit in the movies. The rejectee goes off on some soul-searching trip where he/she finds the love of his/her life, as well as a brand new passion for life... and BAM! end of your movie! WHY ISN'T IT WORKING OUT THAT WAY?! Oh yeah... because it's ME we're talking about. My shit has NEVER worked out. We all know that, let's not get delusional now.
I grieved that shit like the death of a close family member.
I'm still a little shaky about it. I still prefer not to talk about it. At all.
And so... it has clearly affected me this year. Absolutely. Completely.
It changed me mentally, emotionally (as in... my SOUL... as in... I NO LONGER HAVE A SOUL), physically... I'm just... a different human being.
Heavy shit.
Will I ever go back to being ME? I doubt it.
All I want to know is: Where the fuck am I going to go from here?
Je ne sais pas.
Sepa la puta bola.
I have no fucking clue.
I can say this, though:
2012... CHECK YO'SELF! None of this fucking "End of the World" type bullshit. NO. You fucking owe me. You can't go off and end without letting me know what THE FUCK "happiness" is. You just can't. Cause I swear... I will... fucking find a way to come back and... I WILL BE HAPPY, DAMN IT!
Please?
Pretty please?
It's bitter sweet... because I fucking hate you... so I'm sort of stoked to see you go... but then... that means it'll be 2012 and I turn a year older. Christ.
So here, as a nice goodbye, I'll list what I'll miss about 2011, and what I'll be more than happy to never encounter again.
The Good
I'm digging deep here... not much "good" can be taken out of this godforsaken year.
What most sticks out at me is the travel... the wonderful, remarkably fun travel.
For the first time in ten years, I did not step foot in Mexico, and I thought this was going to be shitastic.
But I was proven wrong (apparently the theme for this year-- proving me WRONG).
I dillydallied in the East Coast quite often, even hitting DC twice in three months.
There was also the dreamy New York trip. It feels so hazy in my memory... like it never really happened... because I had so much fun. It was one of the few times my heart "felt full."
There was Jersey... which, well, that too was interesting... even if I felt inadequate as FUCK the majority of the time (imagine that... feel inadequate in JERSEY).
There was Atlanta... even if that's considered the south... it touches the motherfucking Atlantic, so I'm calling it the EAST Coast. Anyway, it was a short trip, but it was some of the best hours of my fucking life.
Mmmmm... travel. You were good.
I'll also consider my... I really need to find a good phrase for this... one that won't make me feel stupid or corny or lame or trite... you get the idea. Let's just call it... oh god, I feel retarded... let's not give it a name. Let's just say "the obvious." The "Oh shit, AnoMALIE's smaller!" subject.
This one's "good" because, while it upset me to see people's treatment of me change, it made ME happy.
I now have a new life. Many consider it tasteless or bland... but I consider it healthy, fun, and exciting (yeah, exciting. Not only do I love the physical changes, but reading labels and noticing the shit people ingest kind of gives me a rush... it boggles my mind and trips me out. HOLY SHIT! 26 GRAMS OF SUGAR FOR ONE SERVING?! WHAT THE FUCK?!).
Dude! I also had a fucking job for the first time in my life! That was good... even if the end was... well... something...
The Bad
I'm a grouch.
It has gotten pretty bad. My fuse is nearly non-existent. My road rage... holy shit, my road rage is out of this world.
This new-found grouchiness (don't get me wrong, I've been moody my entire life, I have plenty of proof to back me up there) even turns me off, but it's SO fucking hard to chill out. I have no clue how I'll fix this... since my first thought--doing some yoga-- is a no go, because I'm too cynical for yoga. I laugh the entire time... laugh and scoff... which is so disrespectful to those who DO enjoy yoga... I'd rather not be anywhere near to make THEM feel bad (I'm a cunt, but I really do remain quite considerate of those around me. It's a strange, probably schizophrenic type deal).
ANYWAY, I'm fucking losing patience here, let's just get to:
The WTF IS THAT SHIT?!
(I swear, that was not intentional... it just happened that way... like my numerous accidental puns.
I'm just tired, and this post is taking forever to type... and my mind is wandering all over the fucking place. I just want to finish)
The obvious thing in this section is the rejection letter drama.
Obviously.
I seriously underestimated how long I'd be reeling from that shit.
It looks so easy to recover from that shit in the movies. The rejectee goes off on some soul-searching trip where he/she finds the love of his/her life, as well as a brand new passion for life... and BAM! end of your movie! WHY ISN'T IT WORKING OUT THAT WAY?! Oh yeah... because it's ME we're talking about. My shit has NEVER worked out. We all know that, let's not get delusional now.
I grieved that shit like the death of a close family member.
I'm still a little shaky about it. I still prefer not to talk about it. At all.
And so... it has clearly affected me this year. Absolutely. Completely.
It changed me mentally, emotionally (as in... my SOUL... as in... I NO LONGER HAVE A SOUL), physically... I'm just... a different human being.
Heavy shit.
Will I ever go back to being ME? I doubt it.
All I want to know is: Where the fuck am I going to go from here?
Je ne sais pas.
Sepa la puta bola.
I have no fucking clue.
I can say this, though:
2012... CHECK YO'SELF! None of this fucking "End of the World" type bullshit. NO. You fucking owe me. You can't go off and end without letting me know what THE FUCK "happiness" is. You just can't. Cause I swear... I will... fucking find a way to come back and... I WILL BE HAPPY, DAMN IT!
Please?
Pretty please?
No comments:
Post a Comment