Real Chance of Love, Daisy of Love, Rock of Love, Whatever of Love are all stupid. I don't understand why I find myself on the couch, glued to VH1, watching all of this bullshit. Well, I admit, I watch Real Chance of Love because Risky is sexy as hell. I followed her into Charm School and watch her beautiful transformation, along with Bay Bay Bay's bigheaded ass. Everything else is bullshit. Bullshit that keeps my eyes glued and ready sit in the exact same spot, same time next week. What is it about bullshit fake drama that keeps people stuck? Sure there are people out there that refuse to watch bullshit TV and actually keep good on it. But what about the people like me, that resent the fact that this shit is on but still find ourselves watching it, sometimes even turning to the channel 5 mins early for the recap of last weeks even though we've seen last weeks? Actually, that's just sad. I only do that when I'm bored. (Or for the sake of my rep, NEVER. lol) I really wonder this shit.
Anyways, I didn't mean for this blog to ramble about bullshit television. I'm feeling some type of way about moving to Alabama. I hate relocating. I hate new shit. I hate change until it's already taken place and is no longer change- so I guess that just means I hate change. I don't like new situations. As a twenty-one year old, I know I'm too old for this shit, but I can't help it. I'm not excited to be away from my hometown, my homeSTATE, my best friends, my pseudofamily; I don't want to leave. I'm not excited to be in a new state in the South surrounded by people I don't know as well as people I'm not used to. The only thing I'm really excited about to be quite honest is the groupies and getting my education- also immature, but I mean, it's me, Spit. What do you expect?
I guess I could say I'm nervous and full of anxiety. What about my room? Do I have a ride from the airport? Are they going to do my financial aid right? etc, etc. I want to avoid drama as much as possible but I know it's going to follow me.. drama is there everywhere you go.
I'm distracted, I'll write more later.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
2.5
Okay, so is it bad that I have two in one day? Is it ursty? I don't know, I just... I really want to write a poem but I have the worst writer's block ever..
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
I'm anxious, I have the worst anxiety. It kills me sometimes. My mind is just running.. It's like a bad game of kickball. Just running and running and running and running. Like can someone catch an OUT!? Jesus!
I'm so frustrated. I'm trying not to think of her because she's doing a damn good job not thinking about me. I don't know, yo.
Time for Spitty to stop being a pussy.
The Second One
So, I'm slightly aggravated with life to begin with because I didn't get my tattoo today... but that's a minor reason for my aggravation.. Actually, to be honest, it's so minor a reason it's not worth mentioning. So scratch that.
Aggravation might as well be my mood for life. I live through aggravation, I act through it, I breathe through it. I'm happy rarely, and when I AM happy, I'm usually slightly aggravated simultaneously. Spitt needs a sanctuary. A corner where she can sit indian style and meditate.
Today I woke up at around 9AM. I didn't do this by choice. The voice that woke me up is a voice that has the power to pierce through sleep and make it impossible to fall back into sleep. It never fails to wake me up, although it does so accidentally.
And that's how my day started.
With 7 hours of sleep, I still possessed the ability to go about my day with livelihood-- sike. I sat on my ass on the couch and watched stupid movies until I got up to shower. I was amped as I stepped in singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'-- a state I have never visited by the way-- and scrubbed myself red clean. I was gonna finally get my third tattoo. And when I got out the shower I rushed into my room and threw on a beater and tight skinnies-- I was femmed out today, but I didn't give a FCK-- I was getting my GOTdamn tattoo.
When my homie and his friend came through, I was even more amped. I stared at the clock the whole time they played the Red Faction demo on PS3, and rushed the shit out of them as they made last minute bathroom runs. Then we were finally out the door. I whipped to the tat shop-- I was mad happy this dude let me push his Saturn-- and when I got there I was prepared to feel the therapy-- the needle tickling my arm over and over again.
Only to be shut down.
The tattoo guy was on vacation.
Like WHAT THE FCK!? I needed that therapy. I was fiending for it. It's exactly what I need to get my mind off the hoes--
yes, hoes--
that have been plaguing them recently. From her that calls herself after a doll, to her with problems with her ex, to her with a girlfriend, to her who is underage. Them. To the one that fronted like she was a homie, when she was really just an ursty homo. Shooting me in the back the chance she got because she thought I wanted her ex-girlfriend. Ace knows who I'm talking about... well, she knows the ex-girlfriend at least, we chilled with her for the minute that we walked about skyscrapers looking absolutely short and gay. I don't want homie's ex, I just think she's a cool person.. Sure I looked at her ass a couple times.. [about twice] but that doesn't mean I want you... I look at mad people's ass and then I regret it sometimes. Not saying I regret looking at hers... It just didn't mean anything. Simple. So she can get in her feelings and try to go after the ones I bagged and aspire to bag, like, it's whatever. I know what's real and homegirl is not. And that my friends, is a lesson learned.
But, we were talking about the tattoo.
I didn't get it. We ended up going to the Chinese spot next door where I didn't order anything and then to Target where I bought my homeboy lover a video game. You guessed, Red Faction. We've been playing the demo for the past month and a half.
His mom walks about like a sad zombie. I have no words. Well, Ace, you happy? I finally blogged again. I don't know if I feel better yet, but I hope this puts me on the path...
Then again, as a GAG, I'm the shit. Wanna know about GAG? You can't. I decided it's fine with two people. I love my fellow GAG, no homo. Or maybe there is some homo in there. *wink. Nah but, chick is the realest I've met so far. And I'm honored to be alongside her in this shindig we call Gamma Alpha Gamma.
I'm out until I get even more pissed off.
Or until I feel like talking about hoes again.
Which may be soon.
Remember?
Aggravated or slightly Aggravated.
Aggravation might as well be my mood for life. I live through aggravation, I act through it, I breathe through it. I'm happy rarely, and when I AM happy, I'm usually slightly aggravated simultaneously. Spitt needs a sanctuary. A corner where she can sit indian style and meditate.
Today I woke up at around 9AM. I didn't do this by choice. The voice that woke me up is a voice that has the power to pierce through sleep and make it impossible to fall back into sleep. It never fails to wake me up, although it does so accidentally.
And that's how my day started.
With 7 hours of sleep, I still possessed the ability to go about my day with livelihood-- sike. I sat on my ass on the couch and watched stupid movies until I got up to shower. I was amped as I stepped in singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'-- a state I have never visited by the way-- and scrubbed myself red clean. I was gonna finally get my third tattoo. And when I got out the shower I rushed into my room and threw on a beater and tight skinnies-- I was femmed out today, but I didn't give a FCK-- I was getting my GOTdamn tattoo.
When my homie and his friend came through, I was even more amped. I stared at the clock the whole time they played the Red Faction demo on PS3, and rushed the shit out of them as they made last minute bathroom runs. Then we were finally out the door. I whipped to the tat shop-- I was mad happy this dude let me push his Saturn-- and when I got there I was prepared to feel the therapy-- the needle tickling my arm over and over again.
Only to be shut down.
The tattoo guy was on vacation.
Like WHAT THE FCK!? I needed that therapy. I was fiending for it. It's exactly what I need to get my mind off the hoes--
yes, hoes--
that have been plaguing them recently. From her that calls herself after a doll, to her with problems with her ex, to her with a girlfriend, to her who is underage. Them. To the one that fronted like she was a homie, when she was really just an ursty homo. Shooting me in the back the chance she got because she thought I wanted her ex-girlfriend. Ace knows who I'm talking about... well, she knows the ex-girlfriend at least, we chilled with her for the minute that we walked about skyscrapers looking absolutely short and gay. I don't want homie's ex, I just think she's a cool person.. Sure I looked at her ass a couple times.. [about twice] but that doesn't mean I want you... I look at mad people's ass and then I regret it sometimes. Not saying I regret looking at hers... It just didn't mean anything. Simple. So she can get in her feelings and try to go after the ones I bagged and aspire to bag, like, it's whatever. I know what's real and homegirl is not. And that my friends, is a lesson learned.
But, we were talking about the tattoo.
I didn't get it. We ended up going to the Chinese spot next door where I didn't order anything and then to Target where I bought my homeboy lover a video game. You guessed, Red Faction. We've been playing the demo for the past month and a half.
His mom walks about like a sad zombie. I have no words. Well, Ace, you happy? I finally blogged again. I don't know if I feel better yet, but I hope this puts me on the path...
Then again, as a GAG, I'm the shit. Wanna know about GAG? You can't. I decided it's fine with two people. I love my fellow GAG, no homo. Or maybe there is some homo in there. *wink. Nah but, chick is the realest I've met so far. And I'm honored to be alongside her in this shindig we call Gamma Alpha Gamma.
I'm out until I get even more pissed off.
Or until I feel like talking about hoes again.
Which may be soon.
Remember?
Aggravated or slightly Aggravated.
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