|
oddlittlecookie
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Amanda
Country: United States
State: New York
Metro: New York City
Birthday: 10/17/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: I like to be a loser. But a good kind of loser; the loser with great friends. I love you Matt, Zack, Juice, Louie, Fummer, Mike, Paul, Joe, Jeff, Ronnie, Alyssa, Jamie, Henry, Evan, Adrienne, Lisa, Mallory, Rachel, and everyone else.
Expertise: I have no expertise. I suck.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  oddlittlecookie
AIM:  oddlittlecooki
MSN: oddlittlecookie@hotmail.com
Member Since:
5/27/2002
|
|
| Keeping it for now. Take that xanga.
| | |
| 1. I will respond with something random I like about you.
2. I will tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I will name something that we should do together.
4. I will say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I will tell you my BEST memory of you.
6. I will leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
7. I will ask you something that I need to know from you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.
Do it for me, and I'll do it for you.
| | |
| HFStival has about 10 or so of my favorite bands, spread over the two days, that I feel like I must see.
Even though they're hella expensive ($53 a DAY for the lawn, $73 a DAY
for the pavilion, $108 a DAY for the pit) and it's at Merriweather.
Anyone wanna go with me? Even just one of the days?
| | |
| One day, I'll be in New York and all of this will seem trivial and useless.
One day, a man will look at me for more than the fact that my ass is nice. (I know it's nice, I worked hard on it.)
One day, iTunes music store will have the one song I'm craving.
One day, I'll only live at one house, instead of prolonging the joint custody battle of my youth.
One day, I'll have a stylist who can make my hair so amazing looking I'll never need a blowdryer.
One day, I'll look back on my life and laugh because the good times will overshadow the bad.
| | |
| I'm never drinking again. Every time I get plastered, I do things
that make me lose respect for myself. Yet everytime I'm around
alcohol, I get plastered. It's not often. I'm no alcoholic
. . . but I could be, since almost everyone in my family is. I've
even grown to like the taste of beer. Well, not like, but
tolerate. Fuck. I'm turning into a drunk. A lush.
Guys who treat women like objects are assholes and it sucks that I
mistake liking my ass as liking me as a person. Because you can't
be my friend and treat me so poorly. And I'm fucking pissed that
I can be friends with a guy for months before anything remotely sexual
happens. We can hang out, talk about life, make each other laugh,
value each other's company. Or so I thought. And then BAM,
once something happens, I'm a whore not worth talking to. Like
I'm only as good as I am in bed. I'm so many other things, other
than attractive. I make people laugh, I'm intelligent, I have a
wide range of random music and movie and general trivia, I'm
"colorful", as Shane put it so kindly once. Yet none of that
matters. I need to find someone who thinks it matters.
As I told Paula the other day, I've had relationships without sex and
sex without relationships: relationships without sex were better.
Too bad I'm fuckin' needy. Too bad I enjoy sex. Too bad I
crave sex. But maybe it's not just the sex--it's definitely part
of it--but maybe it's also the connection. I need to give up sex,
I think. I need to wait for something that matters. Bad sex
is worse than no sex at all, right? I miss the other
things. The kissing. The conversation. The
comfort.
Fuck this shit. Everything I've been doing is bad for me. I
need to stop. Stop drinking. Stop smoking. Stop being
a slut. Stop being used.
I'm moving to New York in a year or so with Sharonda and Jason.
I'll transfer up there, to NYU or Hunter or something. Jason will
do his personal training and Sharonda will dance her heart out and I'll
write. I'll find inspiration. I'll be back in my city, back
where I need to be. Where I felt like I had a future worth
looking forward to. Because here, in Bowie fuckin Maryland, I'm
losing track. I've lost focus. I'm drifting, just happy to
get through the week unscathed. But I'm better. I deserve
to look forward to something. And just the prospect of moving
back to New York is something to look forward to. It's already
inspiring. I miss my city. I miss hope.
| | |
|
