I got three new things today from this thrift store near my house, all really nice things, for $3. My college student budget can therefore be spent on booze instead. Woo-hoo!
I canceled a date with a boring-ish guy tonight to stay home and clean my room; my bod's been all achy the last few days, I think I slept awkwardly the other night. :/ But then this actually interesting guy texted to ask if I wanted to go see a symphony band with him tonight. Even though he is totally cute and I did definitely want to go [I've never seen a symphony band perform live before!] I felt like a jerk saying yes when I canceled with the other guy. So now I'm blogging on xanga like the true loser I am because now I'm not sure I feel like cleaning my room either. Go figure.
I hate having a fucking conscience. I could be sitting next to an attractive dude, listening to some chill tunes, and possibly macking it tonight. Like, not full out doing it.... but definitely kissing and some groping/heavy petting. Lol. Though where we would do that if my room wasn't clean [since he's a commuter] is a mystery. I guess a car would do, but there's nowhere secluded in this town... there's always college kids everywhere. Perhaps it is all for the best.
Incidentally, I haven't made out with a guy [just making out] who wasn't gay while I was sober in months. What a tragedy. Lol.
Yesterday was fantastic. I woke up around noon [it was great to sleep in], and almost immediately my roommate asked me if I would like to go get a massage with her. Of course I did! We went to this really sketchy but awesome massage parlor where the ladies get on the table and put their whole body into rubbing you. It was awesome and ridiculous at the same time. Then we went to goodwill, where we both acquired new shoes, which was equally awesome.
After that, it was time to go out on my real Valentine's Day date with my best friend. We went to eat at a Thai food restaurant [ohmygod soooo good], and then drove to Philly to see Ben Folds. We got there, immediately ran up the stairs to the bar section [The Electric Factory has a nifty 21+ only area] and we got a sick spot where we could see the entire stage. Ben played an amazing set, and an even better encore. *Swoon* I practically had an orgasm watching it. He was fantastic. And he stood while playing the piano, it was sweet. I want to have babies with Ben Folds. If he decided to leave his wife, I would so be all up on that. LOL.
Anyyyyway, so this awesome security dude, Joel, who was keeping the walkway unobstructed during the concert [and therefore keeping our view of the stage unobstructed as well], told us where we could go to meet the band. Ahh! We went there.
Ben took a picture with me [I totally hugged him; double swoon] and signed my ticket, "Ben ghetto ass PA" which rocked. He and my best friend also took a picture and he signed her ticket too. There weren't a lot of people waiting, maybe they were all taking their post-Ben Folds-high and getting some action. It was Valentine's Day, after all.
Then we headed home, but stopped at a diner to get some food [and so I could pee! I was freaking dying. Thank you, Yuengling] and we ran into a guy that I knew but I didn't recognize because he'd lost weight and shaved his beard. [Guys can look so dramatically different when they shave their facial hair]. Then I went home, watched some South Park, and passed out. All in all, it was a freaking fantastic day and I hope to do something even better next year.
The thing is, I legitimately don't think of Valentine's Day as a day to mourn, mope, or otherwise feel down. I had fun with my best friend, not because we're single [we are, but that's not the point] but because it was a good time and we got to do something awesome on a day that's meant to be shared with a loved one. I had the best Valentine's Day I've ever had... and I've had plenty of Valentine's Days where I wasn't single. I guess what I'm saying is, it's all about who you choose to spend your time with and how you look at the situation that makes any day [be it a holiday or just a random day] special.
It all started when I was a freshman in high school. It's been nine years since then, and still the memories are burned into my brain forever. I met him walking through the halls with my friend Lauren- his name was Ben. When I was fourteen, I dressed mainly in black and red- I was a total punk. I'm pretty sure the day I met Ben, I was wearing really big baggy pants and a NOFX t-shirt. Ben was talking to Lauren, and when he noticed me he said something complimentary about my shirt and introduced himself. Right away, I liked him.
He was cute- scruffy and skinny, with spiky hair, a ratty punk t-shirt, shorts, and shoes that were so beat up they had duct tape holding them together. He wasn't "hot" in the conventional sense of the word, but then again, I don't think I am either. He had big awkward teeth and I fell in love with his smile right away. We would pass each other in the hallway, but we never really got to know each other.
Fortunately for me, I was failing Honors Algebra II in the middle of the year. It was too late to switch me to regular Algebra II or any other math, so they put me back into Algebra I for a quick refresher and an easy A. Lo and behold, Ben was sitting in the back of math the day I walked in. We talked all the time since our seats were right next to each other, and we became instant friends. We liked the same music, were both extraordinarily critical of movies, and there was obviously some chemistry between us. By the end of the year, I considered him my best male friend.
Over the summer, we spent every day together. By this time, we were making out with each other too. I had some experience with guys [I kinda grew up fast, and my first boyfriend was two years older and sort of "taught" me a lot about sex-stuff], and he had no experience with girls. He'd never even french kissed a girl before. I thought, as his best friend, it would be okay to be a kind of tutor in that area for him. I guess I should mention that every day we hung out, he would ride his bike to my house. Both our parents worked and we lived on opposite sides of town- the bike ride easily took half an hour, and in the summer sun that was not an easy task [especially considering we wore so much black, haha]. When he arrived at my house, he was always soaked in sweat.
He would walk into my perfectly air-conditioned house, not quite dripping but almost, and grab me and kiss me. My skin would be cool because of the sub-zero temperature my mom liked so much, and his would be warm as the sun. His sun skin against my own cool skin felt so good- his lips were like hugging, or hand holding. Comforting and warm. And the way he tasted was exquisite. His tongue was cooler than his skin, and his mouth always tasted mildly of toothpaste, whereas while we kissed I could taste the sweat on his lips... it was salty and sweet, and it tasted perfectly like him. It was warm. He smelled warm. He smelled like home.
I lost my virginity to him, and the smell of sweat was everywhere. He felt like it, tasted like it, smelled like it. It was perfect, and I can't imagine having a better first time experience. He was wonderful.
That boy ran away from home the summer before junior year and hasn't been heard from since; I still think about him all the time. I want to feel and taste him again.... Ben was a great person. Is a great person.
That's why I like sweat. Every time I smell or taste it, I'm reminded of my first love, and home, and perfect memories kissing in the rain where the taste of sweat mixed with the water to create an awesome blend of deliciousness. Sweat is sexy. Boys who smell like warm sweat are perfect.
My scariest nightmare was an extremely vivid one. It was a typical day spending time with my family - we were at my aunt's house barbecuing. All of a sudden, I got this terrible feeling of dread. I looked up into the sky, and to my horror, something was coming toward us at an alarmingly fast rate. I was too scared to move- the thing had me completely paralyzed with fear. As it came closer [which did not take long since it was going so fast], I realized that it was an airplane. My body unhooked itself from fear, and we all started running as fast as we could to stop from being hit by the gigantic plane coming straight for us. It hit the ground, and pieces of metal and burning rubbish were thrown everywhere. We managed to all survive the actual crash, but we were all hit by various forms of debris and were now a little worse for the wear. We heaved a great sigh of relief that the damage wasn't more severe, and we decided we were going to get the hell out of there and call someone. Just as we were leaving, another airplane started its terribly eerie descent toward us. We couldn't understand what was happening. We hightailed it out of there and headed for shelter.
For some reason [I say "for some reason" when clearly dreams have no understanding of logic], the closest form of shelter where other people were going to be was a museum. We went there. People were huddled inside, screaming and freaking out. I met up with a friend of mine, he told me that airplanes were falling out of the sky everywhere and that something truly terrible was happening. We decided that the only way we were going to survive was to just hit the road and see what happened. That's when I got separated from my family somehow and was all alone. Very quickly, things started happening. A huge, monsoon-like rainstorm began to hit. I stayed as close to other people as possible, searching desperately for my family- hoping beyond hope that I would spend the last few hours of the world with them, for at this point in my heart I knew that things were just going to get worse.
Lightning started to rain down, but not the way lightning usually happens. It was hitting everywhere. The clouds turned an eerie green and gray color, and began swirling in an unnatural way. Things started to catch on fire- everything was falling apart around me. The clouds then stopped swirling. I noticed, to my horror, that they had formed a giant eerie face, and that the face itself was now moving and starting to eat and swallow things. It was as if the world was caving in on itself, and there was nowhere to go. I knew we would all be drowned soon, because of the terrible rain. If the drowning didn't finish us off, being in a pool of water while lightning was striking everywhere was sure to do the job. I never found my family, and that's when I woke up.
I ended up writing a poem about this dream because it was so terribly vivid- I am including it in this entry. That was my scariest nightmare. Hopefully you enjoyed reading.
Apocalypse
The day the world ended, you held my hand.
Stared in awe at the way the sky
opened to reveal a glowing face,
come to swallow up all our sins,
to start it all anew.
Pitter patter of acid rain, my
breath caught in my chest as
I prayed for a less frightening end to it all.
No exploding stars or monster seas,
electrical storms and visions of God.
Carefully but quickly,
we rushed to someplace safe.
Eyes wet with tears,
I clung to your naked back
for the last time as our
bodies found their original sin, so innocent and pure.
Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,
I prayed.
Wishes washed away by wisdom,
and my soul died a little.
Black clouds overtook the smiling sun,
and you and I laughed
at the thought of impending doom.
I’m sorry, so sorry.
[too scared… scary… help]
The day the world ended, a nightmare?
Bad acid trip?
[Oh God, let this be a big joke;
a chemically-induced eight to ten hour joke]
The day the world ended, you held my hand.
Scary-storm-turned-apocalypse,
no way out of this one,
and
[though it may be a little perverse]
through our tears, we laughed.
I just blogged about my scariest nightmare to enter The Uninvited Scariest Nightmare Contest for 1,000 credits. You can earn free credits too! Brought to you by The Uninvited - In Theaters January 30th.
Like it or not, I think preachy Christians are the reason I have such a distaste for religion. I don't care if the Bible says I'm going to Hell; if you're not the one who's going to be "damned" why do you care? You think I'm ignorant, perhaps. You think maybe that you'll be able to save my soul by trying to push your religion on me and telling me how great and important it is to be like you. However, by pushing your ideals on me all you do is make me want to shy further away from religion than ever before. Don't be a moron. Live and let live. Aren't Christians supposed to be laid back, live-and-let-live, caring individuals? Fucking leave me alone. If I want to rot in Hell it's not your concern, and honestly you're just turning me off to Christianity in general when you act all high and mighty.
Fuck this Hell shit, man. I just live my life morally, remembering to always follow the Golden Rule. That's how my mother taught me, and that's what I'm concerned about. Maybe you need to re-examine your life choices. I don't know how happy God would be [if He/She is really as all knowing and caring as you claim] to find out that you were trying to force your religion on others. But hey, again, that's just me.
