audrizzle

well now it's summer, and i'm pretty much not doing anything. this is a picture of me in my bathrobe lazing around my apartment. actually i was standing up for this picture, which is a rarity.
anyway, i have been knitting a LOT lately, and watching the Discovery channel and the History channel and LOST, i have been reading The Idiot, and i promise i will finish it this time! I already made it to part 3, which is a first for me. anyway. i want to figure out how to use flickr and blogger to post more than one photo on my blog, but i dont know how just yet. hopefully i can figure that out soon.
Also, i want to figure out how to present basic ideas of government through puppets for a school project.
And i want to figure out WHAT THE HELL i want to study :(
I think I want to take Russian this fall, but I don't know. Maybe French isn't as fun because D. is an ass and A. isn't a very good teacher; the two French people I know have kind of pissed me off lately. But oh well.
I should be a cop, huh? no, not at all, really.
Anyway, it's saturday night and it appears I won't be hanging out alone this evening! Wish me luck!

Hello to the damn "Untitled 6" in my text editor.
Presently, it is tuesday, May 2, 2006, at 5:01 am. I was supposed to go to sleep at midnight, and was almost falling asleep, but then i read and got online and now I think it's just too late to even try and sleep.
One of the things I looked at online was a thread on a forum, and one of the users had a website that had a lot of his writing on it. It really upset me, because there is this person who has written all these things and done this stuff and this person is younger than me. I always imagined that I would be a child genius, that I would have written a book by age 15 or something, but it just never happened. I just kept thinking, "well I'm still young, I can still do something and be considered advanced for my age," but it's getting to the point where I can't tell myself that and still believe it. I'm 20, in 10 days it'll be 20 and 6 months.
So, I'm writing because I'm depressed. Am I depressed because I'm old? 20 is so young, so so young, so early in life. But I think maybe the reality of my being, the theme of my life before now has been my youth. Let's analyze my life until this point:
Pre-elementary: I had a crush on a boy named Whitney when I was 4 years old. That was when I invented the fantasy of the male being "in the neighborhood" and coming to my window. I would let him in, we would talk, and then sleep, cramped in the my twin bed. That fantasy carried me through many guys. I never thought "boys" were "gross" the way other girls seemed to. At preschool I played with the "manipulatives," though I could never pronounce the word right. I guess that meant physical toys. I loved playing with the dinosaurs, and I loved drawing. We were asked to draw what we wanted to be when we grew up, and I must have done ten drawings. I know I drew a scuba diver (though that isn't a job), a doctor, a veterinarian, an artist, many other things. My favorite movie was "Ghostbusters," my best friend was Meg Terranova, and the two of us were known as "The Weird Sisters." I liked hot dogs sliced vertically and boiled in salt. I wasn't good socially; Meg was my only friend. People told me I was smart, smarter than people my age. I think that was the start of my problem.
Elementary school: Again, I didn't have many friends. Lindsay Behnke, who I was just friends with out of fear. She was bossy and extremely controlling. I was also friends with Tama Carouthers. We had the most fun together. We prank called, played video games, pretended to smoke incense in her backyard. Her parents were divorced, and her dad was a drunk. My mom wouldn't let me hang out with Tama when she was with him. I didn't get along with most of the kids at school, though, they were annoying or mean, and i thought this would get better when I got older. I felt like it was unfair to treat me like a child, because I was completely conscious of who I was and what I thought. I did act like a little bitch though, when I was around 8 was when I started misbehaving and having to be physically dragged places. That was the time I started seeing therapists and going to a special group at school. That group I never understood. I guess it was a counseling group? We played that "throw the pigs" game a lot and talked about feelings. I pined for Benj Wagman the entire time. I first started stalking, i walked the dog by Devin's house even though it was 40 minutes out of the way.
Middle school: Major age-issues here. I had a crush on Mr. Loiterstein. He was really cool, he liked Ben Folds Five, he was cute, he was only 23. Plus, all the boys my age were acting stupid. I tried to listen to jazz and read so as not to be a teenager. I couldn't wait until I was an adult.
High school: Pretty much the same. I always considered myself an adult then. This was when I first really got depressed, felt aimless. I felt that I had no identity for the first year, the second year I was very mean, the third year I sort of nice-ened up so I still talked to people, but they didn't hate me. The fourth year I was depressed again. Again, throughout this school time, i had crushes on many many many older men. Older as in 30, 50, 60...
I don't know. I guess being an adult is a real letdown. All the events at college are like, food and socializing. Sometimes people just come for the food then leave. There's no playing, there's no fun. I'm really glad I did volcano day.
--- I lost my train of thought, or really, my desire to write on one subject.
I painted one of the walls in my apartment purple. Yes, i know it's not allowed. I told dr. hines about it, the fact that i made the decision, went out and bought the paint, and then painted the first coat between 3 and 6 am. I also told her about how much I like taking my shirt off in public, as well as some other things I'd rather not divulge here. She bumped me up to type 1 bipolar. my mood swings are getting worse.
i like being manic. when i'm manic i'm happy, i'm not just happy, i'm insanely happy, i'm so happy i want to scream. i'm funny, i'm loud, kind of annoying at times, but overall i feel like people love that insanity in me. i don't want to get rid of the manic.
i was talking to H. today and she said that the only reason she was able to do everything she did in high school was because of her mania, she channeled that towards her work. Which makes sense. I wish I could do that.
mostly lately things have been down. Today I cried twice, in front of people, and I can't believe how pathetic I am. The second time i felt "Well, i've been holding this in all day, i really just am having some tough times and need to cry just this once." but then I realized i had already cried less than 12 hours earlier. quite pathetique.
tonight was weird. after class i just couldn't stop crying, and i was watching m. and it just made me so sad that he knew i was there and crying and didn't come talk to me. i guess i shouldn't wait for people to approach me, but i can't approach people when i'm crying, i can't. anyway, then i talked to h. on the phone then c. and over the course of those phone calls i went totally crazy. i got really mad at charles for no reason, which i felt bad about.
then i came back home and basically picked my scab for hours.i picked at it on my bed and collected the congealed blood on my leg, but there was too much plasma in it so it kept spilling over. I tried to eat some of it, and i did, but it was weird, because it was cold and that disgusting texture of stretchy pudding. not to mention that iron taste. but anyway, blood was spilling all over my legs and the bed so i decided to go and take a bath to clean up. i ended up bringing a ziplock bag and my swiss army knife. in the bath i just tore off the scar tissue on my arm bit by bit, making slices through and under the flesh, then removing the small rubbery chunks of skin surrounding them. Then i would just let it bleed, scrape the blood away so it could bleed more, and just collect all the blood i could in a ziplock bag. As i was finishing up, i realized the blood was congealing a little bit which I was worried about. The part of the bag that was in the bathwater however, appeared to be doing well. i sealed the bag and kept it in the sink with hot water for a while, but then decided that wouldn't work. I microwaved a coffee cup of water, then put the bag of blood in it. It must have been too hot because a minute later I removed it and though it was the same consistency, it was all BROWN, dark dark brown, whereas before only the clumps had been brown. I took it out of the hot water and massaged it through the bag, and it lost some of it's brown, though it is nowhere near as red as it was before i submerged it in the boiling water (which was only for a second!) I ddint really know what else to do, so I put the bag in cold water and put it in the fridge. I haven't checked on it since.
But yeah, this is the manic thing. I'm not depressed, I'm just really stressing out because i HAVE to do this and I CAN'T stop. last night i went to bed 2 hours later than i was supposed to because I could not stop knitting! Pathetic!
anyway, now i'm about to die of sleepiness. i don't know what to do, i should have gone to sleep sooner. i have a dr. hines appt at 10. class at 12, sga meeting at 3. i was thinking about giving one of those lovely dr's notes to trevor and saying that if i'm at a meeting if i don't annoy people by asking tons of "pointless" questions, then i will surely start crying or rocking or have to sit under the table, something like that. i want to show those bastards. not thinkig straight, too tired. here are some random thoughts i had earlier.
actually not done yet. watching thumbsucker with commentary, mike mills just said how vince vaughn is very much "in the moment." What does that even mean? I think i am "in the moment", but maybe i just choose not to take part. like being in a club but not showing up for meetings, being in class but not talking. but not literally, lord knows i talk in class. ok. here you go.

"We were just having a normal time."
"The trick is living without an answer, I think."
- quotes from thumbsucker.

*everyone says college is great because it's not like high school. i wish it was like high school, i loved high school. i hate college.
*twice today teachers told me to stop raising my hand, because i had already spoken too much. the other teacher just ignored me.

http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=44371065&imageID=627716321&MyToken=3ca5d730-2f72-4a4d-9373-37d28db281b7
that is Brian's myspace picture. he's backflipping off a cliff at a quarry.
this is my sister's comment: oh my god you're going to hurt yourself!!!!! hahahaha jk

they declared brian dead at 2 in the afternoon, but left the plug in for a while just in case.
that same night jessie asked mom to drive her to the quarry. there were 18 kids there, and when mom saw that they were jumping off the cliff into the water, she wouldn't let jessie stay. jesus christ, risking your life like that ON THE DAY that your friend died of doing something retarded. come on!
his myspace is interesting: myspace.com/brianinkw
lots of interesting comments.
actually reading all this makes me really sad. i don't know if these people mean the things they say there, clearly some of them do but i think some of them write on there because it's a formality. but the point is, they care enough to want to show sympathy even if they don't feel it. i feel like if i died, no one would care that much. maybe a couple people would really be upset, but only a couple people, and i'm sure most people wouldn't care. wouldn't notice.
and i hate thinking about how bad it would be if i lost someone like that. it's terrible that i am depressed like this for no reason, but what would happen if things got really bad? what would happen if i had normal depression plus depression for a reason? i don't know.