Sorry I’ve been gone, lots of studying and wasting time, you know how it is.

WARNING: contains emotional complaining and reasoning like I used to do on my old livejournal blog. It will probably make no sense, it’s just how my head is working through how I’m feeling right now. Turn back now. You’ve been warned.

But I think I finally understand the term “hopeless romantic.” And it’s actually much more hopeless and slightly more morbidly romantic than I think most people use it for.

Originally I thought it just meant you can’t help but be in love, you just love to be in love. But really, that’s just a romantic.

I think a hopeless romantic is someone who would rather love and lose than ever love at all. Cliche as it is, it makes a lot of sense.

They would rather love someone so much and know they loved them back that much, and then lose them to say, death, than to live a life of a bunch of half-loves.

Moulin Rouge helped me to figure this one out.

And I’m pretty sure that’s my problem. I put everything into every relationship, I never just half-ass it. If I didn’t try as hard and didn’t expect as much back, would I be happier?

Not to say I’m not happy. I’m actually much much happier than I’ve ever been. I still have my insane moments where I just lose it and all my insecurities come flooding out in a rush of jibberish, but they happen a lot less often than they used to. I used to have them ever few days, back when I was dating douchebag (blake).

Now it’s every few weeks, and only when I’m away from John. He takes care of me a lot better, but I feel bad because I still require so much effort and attention.

That’s why I try so hard to be the best girlfriend ever. I feel like if there are enough good things about me to cancel out my flaws, the person I’m with will put up with me. Too bad I feel like it’s my flaws that stick out, not all the good things.

It could be months in between my little freak outs, but when the next one happens, it feels like the last one was only days earlier.

And I hate it when people think I don’t know that I’m being irrational. I know very well that I can’t explain how I’m feeling and that what I’m feeling makes no sense and that I have no idea what’s going on in my head. I KNOW THAT! Trust me, it drives me nuts too.

I know the problem is with me, I just need someone to help me deal with it, because if I didn’t, I’d lay in my room and sulk.

During my little freak outs, I don’t eat, I don’t move, I don’t talk to many people. I just lay in bed and think. I try to use music to pull me out of it, but then I just end up listening to sad music.

Oh my flaws are many. The ones I’m aware of?

- I’m overly competitive to the point that I can lose friends over it
- I tend to like to be the victim so people will pay attention to me
- I am WAY too emotional, I have cried during commercials
- I need things, but I don’t always know what I need, I just know I need something
- I hold grudges like WOAH
- I think I talk about myself too much, I’m really self-centered
- In relationships, I want some kind of commitment or plan to feel secure, and I want constant reassurance, which means lots of attention

I really really hope my good qualities outweigh my flaws.

Why is it that people spend so much time and focus so intently on and only notice flaws?

ack, sorry, what a waste of a post.

Why do ex boyfriends have to be so awkward?

I mean, you deal with the whole break up thing and you try and stay friends, but then it doesn’t work because you find someone you like much better and you just don’t want to deal with the drama. Yet the persist and IM me and text me and send me awkward bumper stickers on facebook that they know my new boyfriend will see. Honestly, I think they do it on purpose.

I mean really, who sends a bumper sticker that says “Don’t drink and text” with a little phone that says “your hot. lets sex.” Really, that’s not going to make people wonder? Especially after you haven’t spoken for a few months. And then out of no where they see a bumper sticker and think of you?

And then there is the one that IMs me and says “I miss how you used to talk.” Really, I was under the impression that once things ended, you don’t talk like that anymore. Especially when again, haven’t spoken since before graduating high school. The conversation went as follows:

him - “hey”

me - “uh hi”

him - “long time since we’ve talked”

me - “yeah”

him - “I miss how we used to talk”

me - “I didn’t realize we were still friends”

him - “I didn’t realize we weren’t”

Usually when you don’t talk for over 6 months, friendship becomes “oh yeah, I knew that kid once.” I thought that was given. Turns out he just wanted to tell me about his new girl friend. She’s a gymnast. I’m so…happy for him? Not sure why he felt compelled to share that with me.

But yeah, I just had to rant about that. And for the record, I love drinking and texting. I have some of the best conversations with my boyfriend that way. teehee

Two weeks till finals and this has been the easiest week ever. I’m sitting here eating lunch having just gotten out of class early because we couldn’t get sound for the movie we were going to watch. Tragic, yes? You’d think I’d be working hard, studying, having mountains of work to do before the end of the semester, but I’m actually finding that I’m bored. I don’t have any work to do other than finish a novel by Sunday. I suppose I should be using this time to do that, but uh…oh well.

Of the 10 classes I was supposed to have this week, I’m only going to have 6. It’s…just…so…wonderful….

Not being constantly stressed out makes college so much more fun and easier to deal with. Of course, it couldn’t be perfect.

I woke up this morning with this awful feeling that my relationship was falling apart. I know it’s not, we just haven’t spoken at lot in the past 4 days. I’ve probably only noticed it because I’ve had so much free time!

It may also be that I’m a bit jealous sometimes. How is it that I always find the guys who have all friends that are girls?

Yesterday he was reading the book I got him for fun for his birthday, I <3 Female Orgasm, but he wasn't reading it alone. He was reading it with his friend from downstairs, a girl. He would pop in every now and then via Instant Messenger to tell me how much they were enjoying the book.

Yeah, that sounds good. That’s exactly what I want to hear. hah.

Of course, I’m passive aggressive and while this irks me a little, I’m really not worried about it. It’s been a year, and he still hasn’t learned not to put his foot in his mouth. I used to be really good about just letting things like that go because I knew he just didn’t realize how I would take it, but I find now that each time he does that, it irks me just a little.

I trust him, but I can’t help but get irritated every now and then. Of course, I feel bad saying anything because it’s just bringing up conflict that I have created myself. And I’m too afraid to unsettle things so far apart, and so close to break.

I’m so needy it’s sad.

But, on the bright side, I’m kicking ass in my classes. Finals week is going to be a breeze! woohoo!

Right now I’m wondering about what I’m going to do this weekend. I’d love to go dancing, you don’t need to drink to do that…although, it helps. But I’m sure I can manage to dance like a hooooeeee (as Fergie would say) if I try real hard.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving to everyone!

I don’t really have an particularly fun stories from break. My cousin got engaged. I guess that’s cool. However, all Thanksgiving really did was cement my contempt for my extended family. One cousin, the one getting married, is a fat, lazy bastard. The next cousin is probably going to live at home for the rest of his life. And the third and youngest cousin, wants to go to college, but oh my god, she is the biggest little bitch I’ve ever met. My aunt and uncle are cool I guess, even though they called my education “a waste of money.”

But enough about my extended family that I don’t usually own up to…

I was pleased that I got to hang out with my favorite every day. He even surprised me the day I got home. He also made me hot chocolate and took care of me while I was feeling sick.

That was another thing, I got ridiculously sick for break. Ear infection and some crazy nasty cold. Feeling better now though.

I think I would normally be more lighthearted in my post, except that the break ended so badly. I went to my boss’s party, and got hammered. It was a poor choice, as is eating chipotle then binge drinking patron tequila shots. Needless to say, I ended up in the bathroom. Not only was it humiliating, it was painful. I wasn’t even lucky enough to black out.

luckily, and for this my boyfriend deserves a medal, He drove me home and took care of me. Not before I fell out of my car and crawled to the grass so I could throw up on my lawn. Ah memories…

Well I requested that he stay the night with me and take care of me. He was averse to it, and said he’d walk home. I was having none of that, so I made him stay. Another poor choice on my part.

It was great to have him close by if I needed anything, but the next morning when I drove him home, my parents saw us leaving. This resulted in them being furious with me. And I had to catch a flight in an hour.

Essentially, My parents called me cruel names which I don’t think I really deserved and told me to act my age. But, I thought that’s how people behaved when they are 18, young, and stupid?

But it really upset me, that and I was hungover and tired as fuck. So on my incredibly painful flight home, I decided I needed to make a few changes in my life.

1) Take a break from drinking. Yeah, college is pretty much known for that, but it might be the memories of spewing chipotle burrito into a toilet that are driving this decision. Plus, I’ll probably drop 5 pounds. Always a perk!

2) No more drinking at home.

3) Spend more time with my parents. Apparently, I don’t spend enough time with them, or have enough free time for them to decide for us to do something.

4) No more smexing up my boyfriend at my house while my parents are upstairs and awake.
5) Be less open with my parents about my habits. The less they know, probably the better.

So those are my 5 new rules to live buy. I just want my “good girl” image back. The only people that think I’m innocent anymore are my boyfriends parents, and I love the way they treat me because of it.  Hopefully I can stick to it. That is, until my boyfriend and I head up to Quebec where we will be sleeping in the same room, skiing/snowboarding daily, and the drinking age is 18.

And talk about irony, My boyfriend turns 21 and the next week I decide to stop drinking. Perfect timing.

So in every dorm there are RAs and usually their job is just to make sure no one dies or causes disruptions. Otherwise, they should stay in their rooms and be around for questions.

My RA is absolutely awesome. I eat dinner with her and we share drunk stories and gossip. She’s hella cool. But her staff is not quite as awesome as she is.

There is one RA in my Dorm that seems to think he is God’s gift to discipline, and that he must enforce as many rules as possible, but at the same time, he has absolutely no boundaries.

Now, I might be slightly bitter that he wrote up a friend of mine for drinking with absolutely no real evidence other than the fact that he “smelled” like beer. Suuure… But regardless, that’s not my major complaint about him.

For some reason, this RA, who we all call “Pony Tail” because he has long hair that he always pulls back in a tight, girly pony tail, seems to think he does not have any boundaries and because he is an RA, he can say whatever we wants to us.

The first time I felt he wasn’t sure where to draw the line was when I was watching tv with him and some other people and he starts telling us about his sexual exploits. He tells us that he’s all about pleasing the woman, and he doesn’t care if the woman reciprocates. Then he shares with us that he has done everything but vaginal sex, because he is just scared of babies.

I had a major WTF?! moment right then. Dude, you don’t share that with people. *shudder*

The second time I had a run in with Pony Tail was while I was sitting in my room with the door open, and I was texting my boyfriend when he walks in. I shut my phone since I don’t want him to read it, to which he goes “ohhh someone is having text sex!” he didn’t know I was texting my boyfriend. Then he turns to my roommate and goes “You’re roommate is a dirty whore!”

…..WTF DUDE. When is it EVER okay to call a girl a dirty whore? At that moment, I no longer respected him. He barges into my room, accuses me of sexual acts, and then with no basis calls me a dirty whore? SO NOT OKAY.

But that’s just my run ins with him. He has also talked to girls in my hall. One girl told us that he walks into her room, and has a twenty minute conversation with her about her period and birth control. Another girl reported him talking to her about sex. And for some reason he felt it was okay to call another girl “Porn Girl.”

Now, I know for a fact that it’s not okay for any guy to say these things. And he is an authority figure. No one respects him.

Talk about some serious sexual harassment.

We reported him to our RA, and he has been thus forth told to not go near our corridor. Hopefully the rest of the corridors will start reporting him too because I know there are more complaints.

So from about 5am - 8am I suffered multiple bad dreams, multiple awakenings by RM, and multiple bodily issues. Let me begin.

First off, I had a dream that I was at a party. Good beginning right? Parties are fun, meet new people and such. Well, I walk over to these two people exchanging numbers to chat. Turns out, the guy is giving the girl, who also happens to be the floor whore, my boyfriend’s number. I mention to the guy I know him and that I’m his girlfriend. He is excited, starts talking to me. Then drops the big “so I heard he was kissing [random girl’s name] again the other night.”

I was DEVASTATED. and what’s worse, is I woke up feeling the same way. I woke up wanting to cry. Dream cheating sucks man.

Then, after managing to fall back asleep, seeing as RM had woken me up with her obnoxiously loud alarm clock at about 6:50am, I started to dream about my neighborhood back home. Thing was, I was watching all these cops run around to try and stop some guys from blowing shit up. Now, sounds cool right? It was cool until it somehow became my dorm room, and these random loud cops kept running in and out of my room. (Once again awoken by RM, roughly 7:2am0) Then this one cop comes in with a large loud cleaner thing, and then starts going through my underwear drawer and folding everything. (Awoken by roommate, roughly 7:50am. She is finally leaving for class) Then, because I’m freaking out in my dream, I ask for an advil or something from the guy. He hands me a pill, I take it. Next thing I know, I’m freaking the fuck out in my dream, and rooms are combining, there are like 9 people in my room with about 6 beds and desks, and loud ass music, and I realize the cop totally slipped me some nasty shit.

Then, I am rescued by RM from my dream (hah) when she calls me at about 8:16am to let her into the dorm because she is standing outside and totally forgot her ID card that she needs to (1) get into chem, (2) get into the dorm, (3) get food. Good work sweetheart. So I had to go downstairs after just waking up to let her in. I must have been a sight.

My alarm was set for 8:30, since my class started at 9:30. I didn’t bother to go back to sleep.

So I head to the bathroom to do my morning crap. Two shitty things occur.

(1) I realized I have started my period. GAH. As good as this is for knowing I wont be having babies, still sucks for the fact that I have to deal with it for the next few days.

(2) My navel piercing hurts like a MOFO. I was laying in bed and it throbbed. I stand up and it throbbed. I tried to wash it out and I almost cried it hurt so bad.

and now I’m pretty sure it’s raining outside, which mean I have to walk across campus to my stupid lecture class that I don’t actually have to show up in except to turn shit in, and I’m gonna get soaked, cold, and probably catch a fatal illness.

Today is going to suck royally.

I feel like I should be at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

“My name’s Liah, and I’ve been sober a week now.”

There is something so wrong about that, seeing as I’m a college student at a respectable university. Sure, there are always slow weekends, but seriously, two weekends in a row?
Sobriety makes you bitter.

I got all dressed up, and did my makeup. And I can’t lie, I looked damn hot. To prove it, while we were walking around, a guy walked by, looked right at me and said “You’re hot.” So, I feel like I was actually looking good tonight. Granted, his forwardness suggest he’d had a few, for which I was also very jealous. But I’ll take what I can get.
Unfortunately, it’s also about 45 degrees out. Why I picked Ohio for school, I’ll never figure out.

So we head out at 10pm. I didn’t think that’s too early! Turns out, the party we were headed to…wasn’t till tomorrow. And it was a sketchy frat anyway. So we call everyone we know, and no one is doing anything. Apparently because it’s homecoming weekend, people suddenly get boring and don’t throw parties.

We walked around for an hour and a half, awkwardly stood in front of three houses, then just decided to go home. I was back in my room BEFORE midnight.
At least I got ice cream.

But yeah, I’m getting a little frustrated. When you can’t have fun on the weekends, when you have nothing to look forward to, it makes the weeks so much longer and so much harder.

Plus, it just makes me want to try drugs, because that you can do in comfort and warmth of your own home….or dorm room.

It should always be know that it is a bad idea, if you are a man, to talk about your sexual exploits. For one thing, it’s not very classy. And two, no girl appreciates the funny looks.

Now, to be honest, it never really bothered me until a few weekends ago, when my boyfriend decided that a few people needed to know about one of our more adventurous escapades.

We made some crazy monkey love in our work place. Well, his former work place, and my current one. Now, I don’t mind if certain people know. For one thing, my boss knows, and a few of my coworkers know. But it’s okay, because my boss totally owned up to having done it too. I’m pretty sure that’s why he took my key though.
Well, my boyfriend, a few weeks ago, went a mutual friend’s going away party. I was captive in this small, desolate, no mall, ohio town so I could not grace them with my presence.
He got drunk. Big surprise there. Love him, but a loose lipped drunk.
And well, turns out he told two of his old friends from work, people I had never met before, what he and I had done.

Now, this wouldn’t bother me, except that those two people have come back. Not to work, but to take classes. (I work in a Taekowndo school.) Well, when I get home, I’m going to have to meet these people.
What will be their first impression of me? No, not another bad ass black belt  that trained at the same school as them. Nooo.
I’m going to be the girl their little buddy fucked on the mats. can’t you just taste the bitterness?
Now I’m a little reluctant to go home.

Is it okay that he did that? Should I be as bothered as I am?

I guess I feel like it’s weird that all these people know about me, before even meeting me, is my sex life.

This morning, I awoke to the sounds of an alarm clock. Rhythmic. Over. And Over. It kept beeping. Yet, it was not my alarm. It was not my roommate’s alarm.

No.

It was the alarm in the room right next to me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I honestly thought I was going to go mad.

I went out into the hall, was looking for it. I had to turn on the tv just to drown out the sound. But I could still hear it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I. Hate. Alarm. Clocks.

Disclaimer: Sorry if I am at all repetitive of my earlier post, I didn’t take the time to reread it before writing this one.

First off, I was amused to see that I actually got comments on this post that weren’t essentially telling me I’m going to hell. If anyone who read it and wanted to comment that, but felt to Christian, please, don’t hold back. I’m really just a comment whore.

But moving to the actual topic of such post.

First thing, I was asked to explain miracles. Well, it was a miracle that I was born and that I was born without complications, but if anyone has ever examined the process of “building” a baby, one would realize that it’s probably the biggest miracle of all that more babies aren’t born with complications. The amount of things that could go wrong are enormous. It seems just as likely that we would be born completely deformed and messed up as not. If anyone wants to argue with me the presence of a God, you just have to bring the view how many babies every year are born perfectly healthy. Unfortunately, it’s not these babies that people rave are miracles. It’s the babies that are born with problems, that just fell into the pool of children where something just went wrong, that when they survive and make it to adulthood, that people consider a “miracle.” I would have to say that this particular miracle is arguable by the fact that it is just as likely that something goes wrong, as that it doesn’t. We only recognize it as a miracle because we put more emphasis on one or the other.

Thus, my issue with miracles. Is it a miracle that someone regains sight? Well, what are the chances that they did vs. that they didn’t. If they hadn’t regained sight, would we have considered that a miracle? In any case, it was just the other possibility and for all we know, just as likely. Doctors can give you all the statistics they want. We consider surviving cancer a miracle because its a really good thing, but it’s just as likely that you die from it. No one considers that a miracle, but it’s just as likely.

In any case, it’s like flipping a coin. You can get either heads or tails. If you get heads, is that a miracle? Or getting tails is a miracle? No, it’s just something that happens. Things happen in life, they are just as likely as the event that they don’t happen. Miracles are just fabricated from our point of view.

Now, that’s my argument, solely for the sake of argument.

People like my mother give religion as a pillow, a comfort. She once shared with me that she would have a big problem believing that this is it, so that’s why she believe in God. Because she just can’t keep seeing all the horrible things in the world thinking that this is all there is.

Now, it’s for people like that, that I think religion is perfect for. It’s for those you want something good to believe in, to keep them sane, and safe in their heads, despite if it’s real or not. To me, that’s true faith.

But people will criticize saying that believing in something solely because you don’t want to believe in the alternative isn’t true faith. Well, what makes your faith better? Believing it because you are told to?

A chosen faith is better than a forced faith.

I on the other hand am perfectly alright with the notion that this is it. While this may depress some people, it just makes me want to live life to the absolute fullest. Never miss an adventure or an opportunity, because it just as likely that the world ends that day, that it doesn’t.

It does or it doesn’t. It’s all 50/50 to me.

To me, Religion should be nothing more than a comfort to keep you feeling better, while giving you very basic moral to live by. The 10 commandments? Scratch off the one about believing in other Gods and keeping the Sabbath, and you have a perfect base set of guidelines for life that really aren’t going to change with the ages. 8 solid commandants.

The Commandants about driving are a bunch of bullshit. The Catholic church just got hella bored and scribbled some shit down. I really don’t like the Catholic church. Nothing against catholics, just the church.

But what irks me most is when people take religion to such extremes that they let it play such a large role in other parts of their life. My cousin was with this girl for years, they are still really close, but because she is Mormon, he refuses to marry her. He doesn’t want to convert.

Bull fucking shit. What the hell does religion matter if you love the person. The Mormons have crazy rules (and beliefs) but you know what, that should not be a reason not to marry her. Do her feet smell? Does she hit you? Does she scream in her sleep? Those are better reason to me than “She’s Mormon.”

My dad told me that religion should never get in the way of who I want to be with. This is the same man that demands I marry a white man, but then again, I blame that on his work office. He’s been there waaaay too long.

But to sum it up, once again, Religion is something that should guide your life and help you to be a better person. I don’t care if it’s true or not, that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care who is right, and who is wrong. If people can be good people, but not let religion decide who the like and don’t like, then they can have their miracles. If people could stop waging war based on the fact that they are right and everyone else is wrong, then I think religion itself could play an even bigger role in the world.

Besides, there are only two sure things in life. Death, and math.