if you hadnt broken me, i wouldnt have this childlike desire

and since i left the last one unfinished...

we haven't met yet. but you'll like me. it wont be instant infatuation. but you'll think to yourself, "this girl is pretty cool." and then we'll become friends because we'll randomly run into each other around campus.

and we'll get to know each other. and you'll see that i dont get upset. or annoying. or emotional. very easily. and you'll like that. you'll see that i am independent. and you'll like the fact that i dont need you. and i wont feel awkward texting you to do things all the time. because i know you know that i am not obsessive. but merely like friends. and we'll have so much fun together that we'll spend all of our time together. and you'll crash on my floor. but it means nothing. except that we're comfortable.

and this random dude came and sat down next to me. (like for reals dog). and i and finding it to be very awkward that i am writing this. next to him. because if he read this. he'd think i was crazy. or maybe he already thinks i am crazy for blogging. which i tried to hide. i dont know why i dont like for people to see me when i am blogging. thats odd. i'm odd.

anyway. then i'll tell you. and once i tell you, there's no turning back. and you'll hold me as i cry. and it wont be the same anymore. and it is then that you'll tell me that you love me. and it will be perfect.

and now that i am thouroughly phsyco. i am going to end this.

.:nothing tastes as sweet as what i can't have:.

so i am only writing this for my bff who's dying.

death. (she's not really dying, i hope)

why is everyone scared of it? what is there in this world to be scared of? because if you think about it, you don't have time to be scared. once you die, there is no getting that time back. the way i see it, we're all going to die sometime.

you may think i am being morbid. but really i'm living it up. i'm living my life knowing that one day this will all be over. and every minute i have with my family. my best friends. my dog. my chocolate. and you. all of you. should be cherished. and it sounds cheesy. but why be sad. or angry. or scared. when you could be savoring those moments having fun. because none of it will matter in the end.

the only thing i am scared of is experiencing something awful and then having to live with it. for always. until death. and isnt death something peaceful? a rest from all of this? not to say i want to leave this. but i just dont think it is something to be scared of. when it comes it comes. there is no controlling it. why dread it? no one really knows what to expect.

and i think that is what gets me about religion. the claim to know what happens after death.

i just dont get fear of death. thats all.

and i met mr. perfect. he actually follows all of the guidelines amazingly. (i wasnt sure he actually existed). well, we havent exactly met. i saw him sing though. and now i'll proceed to thouroughly stalk. it a very attractive way of course. i mean come on: who would have thought i'd ever score a date with hot carl? (hope, him or one of his friends don't randomly read this, because that would be awkward. because carl isnt even on the list. he's nice. but i'm not wooing over him. or wanting to date him. he's not on the list.)

anyway, so there is this random chance that mp and i could become friends. and we all know (well at least i know) that relationships work out best if you are friends first. seriously. so i want to be friends with mp. and then best friends. and then he can fall in love with me. but i can't like him at first. because that's the only way i seem to get them. when i could care less about being attractive or flirty or care what i say next.

and i still cant get over that with one of the listers. because i think this lister reminds me of high school. and the boys i would awkwardly attempt to be a & f around. and so i repremand myself and try to get over it which i think makes me seem like an indifferent bitch.

and to my listers: so there is this thing where a guy you really care about comes up and hugs you from behind and wraps his arms around you. stopping you from feeling vulnerable. and you feel completely safe. and warm. dont forget warm (this is not a 90 degree weather maneuver. most effective when practiced in cold weather).

its exhilerating, isn't it? this annonymous act of complete vulnerability.

so i should be doing my homework.

but i am sitting here, listening to hanson. hanson christmas music. and writing. because it's what i do. and what i wish i could do for the rest of my like.

all i need: eat. sleep. breathe. shower. read. write. screw. music.

and YOU. i could use you. you might come in handy.

i really have nothing else to say.

except that i'm a pig. and i'm starting a diet. in a few minutes...when i finish my chocolate covered pretzels.

and isaac hanson had to have life saving surgery. i think i'll send flowers.

i think i am strong enough to break. i've thought about it. and i think i've tried to be hard for so long. that i've become what i have always pretended to be. and i've cried once since i've been here. once. and you're not allowed to know why. and i wouldnt have if they hadnt forced me to be weak.

i think i'm going to break. because i want to tell you so badly. and i dont know why its you i need to tell. because you're the biggest dick i know. and you'd probably think it was awkward. and feel nothing. but i missed out on that "cry to your girlfriends" gene. its not my thing. so i need you. and i need you to be quiet. and listen. and hug me. and let me cry. and look like an idiot trying to breath and talk and cry and make inhuman sounds. and cry because there are words i cant physically say. an i wont be able to look at you. i guarentee that.

and this conversation. confession. confrontation. may not happen for a long time. or maybe never. and i guess that would be okay. because some one would have to replace you. and then i would be fine. unless they couldnt hear it either.

and to the one i love the most:

i'm sorry that my mistakes became your problems. that was not the intention. and i miss you. and i know what i did was wrong. just know i love you more than anything. they were mistakes you could never recover from. and i knew full well when i made them. and i hope you're happy now, wherever you are.

and sometimes i wonder if you hate me.

the tales we tell ourselves about ourselves make us who we are.

its true. when we talk to ourselves we're as honest as it gets. well, i mean except if your dillusional. which could be your own fault.

if you think you'll marry every guy you meet: you're dillusional. if you think everyone has a huge raging crush on you: you're dillusional. if you think your going to marry a guy you've been dating for two weeks: you're dillusional.

sad fact is: i have several dillusional friends. if you're sitting there thinking, "gee, i have no idea who she's talking about right now," YOU'RE THAT FRIEND. ( i mean unless you go to cmu...in which case you should enlighten me on the fact that you're reading this)

so i found this great song: the general by dispatch. and it makes me think of how we should be.

"i have seen the others
and i have discovered,
that this fight is not worth fighting.
i have seen them others,
and i will no other
to follow me where i'm going."

i mean think about it. how many people would face something alone in order to save others? and how many people would face death when they have the chance to turn back?

"take your shower,
shine your shoes.
you've got no time to lose.
you are young men.
you must be living.
go now,
you are forgiven."

i don't know. maybe it makes me feel good. restoring faith in the existence of integrity. convincing me this world isnt just a big, superficial lie.

and i know its weird. but i have this strange obsession with ghandi. and benjamin franklin. and buddhism. it just seems logical. passive resistance. peace. rationality. realistic. good.

good is vague. i know. but it is how i feel. religiously. in life. it is my mantra. do good. be good. take bad and turn it into good. good.

and maybe i should be the one looking for a religion. but that goes against me. who i am. my independent thinking. i can't sit through a church service without questioning. no matter where i am. my church. your church. your temple.

and maybe i'm not looking because i cant stand all of this religious dogma. who is to say a person who doesnt follow the church and their ideals cant be good?

ANYWAY, so the point of this blog is to acknowledge the fact that i found my ideal man. yesterday. at the movie theater. which has subsequently caused me to ponder my mr. perfect:

he has long hair. not gross long. but light brown to blonde and flowy and silky. and not girly or greasy. but manly in a way that compliments his jaw structure. and not too long...but chin length. yes, i am a long hair girl.

and he will wear a blazer. yep, eternally dressed in a blazer. even to bed. and in the shower, there too will he be blazer laden. anyway, it will be tweed. and only a certain type of guy can pull off the tweed blazer. my kind of guy.

and he will of course have to play an instrument. acoustic guitar. none of this "I-try-to-be-badass" electric guitar kind of stuff. he doesnt need to flaunt it but he will have a good voice. not an "i love playing guitar but sing through my nose and sound horrible" kind of guy who you feel bad for and cringe listening to them. and just would rather them just stop all together. nope he isnt one of those. he is pretty dank.

and he can have an accent if he pleases. though it isnt required. i make no prejudices on country of origin...well maybe a few.

and there were other things.....oh yeah, he has to be athletic. which contradicts the last few requirements. well, maybe all of them. but has to be able to ball with me. and volleyball with me, and raquetball with me (my new obsession). and fend for his own when approached by other ballers. so that i dont have to cringe over our aquaintance.

and he will care. but not judge. and he wont care about before. only he will, but only about the way it affects me. and he will respect it. and listen. and say all the right things. and we'll have deep intelectual conversations. about life. and religion. and the good of the world. and i'll learn from him. and be challenged by him.

basically he'll be my male amber.

and he'll understand my mistakes. which is actually number one. and he'll love me even when he doesnt like me. and we'll fight. we'll fight over stupid stuff like jelly. and we'll fight over big stuff. but only because we love so much it hurts.

and i know i sound emo. but maybe those emo kids know a thing or two about this kind of stuff. love and pain. well, maybe not.

anyway. this blog is glorious randomocity. boyeee.

my vagina monologue

i am not as strong as i seem.
i am merely weak but can't accept it.

and i know i am not as strong as some of you.

knowing what i know, i dont know how you laugh. and not just laugh. but roll on the floor laughing. more than the rest of us. and maybe its because laughing makes you feel better.

but it makes me feel better too.

and you amaze me. your confidence. your joy. your strength. you have no idea.

a week ago, you were just crazy. now you're more. though i cant spell it out for you. just realize how strong you really are.

and although you may feel weak. like i used to feel weak. you aren't.

you just have to understand that i love you. yes, i actually said it. and although other people treat you in horrible ways that contradict your entire view of human integrity and good.

and you have the compassion to feel bad. to understand. and that, i dont understand. and you care about how it would affect everyone else. and i go back to thinking your crazy right about now.

I am amazed that the strongest most joyful people i meet are those who have experienced the worst kind of pain. the worst kind of people. the worst kind of life.

and it makes me wonder where we went wrong. all of us. mankind. where did we go so wrong so that our most compassionate, most admirable people are those who have to experience some sort of trauma to get there.

Your (everyone else) problem isnt that bad. yes you, whoever is reading this.

go make someone's day. do something nice. be compassionate. laugh like you're about to lose your voice forever. and mostly, stick up for those who cant stick up for themselves. protect them. protect their innocence. the one that so many of us have lost.

and though our hearts are slightly used....

i lied when i said we needed to be friends. because we dont need. i want to be your friend. why? because we're not friends.

i try to be your friend. but i am tired of trying. why? because it makes me seem needy. i'm not needy. i dont need anyone.

Why do i try? thats a question i cant answer. because there is no logic behind it.

maybe i thought there was something. maybe you thought it too. but then the competition came along. the enemy is competitive. so am i. so competitive that i would rather quit than lose. so i quit. half of me gave up. but the second half stuck around to maintain the obligatory friend part that comes with not ending a non-relationshit that didnt exist.

but that parts ready to give up on you too.


and you (a different you, dont think i'd write this all about you). you cant be missing me. you arent allowed. and if you do. you arent allowed to say it. even if youre drunk.

why? because i cant handle you. if it took you thousands of miles to need me like i used to need you, then youre too late.

you're late because you couldnt stick it out. and she needs you now. and i wouldnt be human if i let another girl go through the process of needing someone who took their need out on another girl. or several.

and because she needs you, you cant tell me you love me. because i know thats next. and you think it. i know you too well. thats the downside of being in love and knowing someone better than they know themselves. because you havent changed much.

but me. i'm different. i went through all the same change you went through from 15 to 19. i was 15.

and i realize how lucky i am. to have fallen in love. but i deserve more. i respect myself too much to be shitted around with.

you cant tell me you miss me. not now.

and you: the best kind of you. a new you. i am so ready. ssssooooo ready. i've let my guard down. and i am waiting. to free fall with you. take the plunge. take the leap. and i'll skydive of you'll be my parachute.

i've been holding myself up for too long. and i'm tired. but i'll wait as long as it takes. until me knees crumble and i can no longer stand the pain.

so forgive me if i unload when you get here. because i've been holding a lot.

but please come quickly. because i am not sure how long i will last.

.waiting for blood to flow to my fingers.

things are what you make them. it is a simple as that. mind over body. if i could believe only one thing. it would be that we can control everything with our minds. everything. we control our happiness. depression. excitement. enjoyment. empowerment.

sure, there are flaws in this theory. i'm not quite sure we can levitate things with our mind. and we sure as hell cant control other... which is sad and unfortunant. we cant control what happens to us. but we have control over what we make of it.

i'm kinda weirded out by people who want to transfer already. like they think the whole process of unparalleled change will be any different somewhere else. i mean sure you can go back to the local college where all of your friends go....but then is it even really change?

dont you think that, at some point, college will become comfortable just like high school was? and was there really never a point in high school where you didnt want to be there either? its all about perspective. maybe your preconceived notions about college were too high...or maybe just different. you expected to come to college and meet some amazing girl or guy (or in between) and you would fall madly in love with each other. right? high school was for messing around...college for settling down. okay maybe not for some guys. and maybe not for me.

but you havent found that person two months into college and all hope is lost. and you dont have that great group of friends yet. and there for never will. or classes suck. but dont classes suck everywhere? i mean unless you're in art school, classes just suck ass.

so why can't you stick it out? so you hate it? join something. put yourself out there. go out and do something.

except come into my room. do not come and sit your ass down in my room. unless i've invited you. because i am sick and tired of people thinking i have all the time in the world to pay attention to them. or all the concentration in the world to ignore them and their loud noises. because i dont. so please dont sit on my stuff or eat my food or use my shit.

i think there's a chance of the possibility that i may be broken.

so people cry.

i used to say only weak people cried. which was why i wouldnt.

but there were those times when you'd start crying for no apparent reason. or something completely ridiculous. or at the drop of a hat. or before someone can finish "what's wrong?" and that used to happen to me. i didnt get it. i didnt like it.

and then there was that thing. and that time when i cried my share of tears for the rest of my existence. because it was then that i was weak. and i didnt want anyone to see it. i couldnt be weak.

so i faked it. and got good at it. too good.

and now i am starting to think my tearducts may be broken. whether i drained them of all of their tears or they've been so long out of use. i dont know. but they dont work anymore.

and i try. and sometimes i feel like crying might help the situation. or just be an emotional heimlick for the crap thats choking me up. but it wont work. and i'll think about bad things. and the accumulation of suckiness.

but i cant feel sorry for myself. maybe its because i've gained perspective. and maybe that's why i cant feel bad for you. or your situation.

it must be in the water.....

for the life of me, i cannot remember, what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise.

i make no promises. this blog wont be as good as the last one. i'm not as bitter (i mean don't get me wrong, i'm still generally hatish). but i'm not as funny. i've kind of lost it since i came here. because my humor offends people. and thats not a great way to make friends.

so i sit here, listening to my man, johnny, and try to think. i try to be deep. but we all know thats not my thing. i try generate that blunt humor that used to come out of my mouth before i could realize what i was saying. but its hiding somewhere. or i left it at home. and i am definitely not as green. not horny. nope, don't want in your pants (that is a very unwhitney statement right thurr). i must have left that in oregon too. (though i hate to think i reserved it for
the boys there.)

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!?

home. i catch myself saying i am going home and its weird. this isnt home. this cave under my bed=not home.

now that i think about it. i have stories. i just can't post them on the internet. because they're politically incorrect (i dont get that term; i get socially unaccepted but not incorrect).

we're all looking for that something.

that specific something. we know exaclty what it is. but we're not sure what we deserve.

and then we find ourselves settling. for something less. maybe because we feel obligated. or maybe we dont think we'll ever find better. and we lower our standards.

don't settle. don't give up.

and then you find yourself 80, unhappy, and alone. are you unhappy because you're 80? or because your alone? because the world provides no justice, right? aren't you supposed to be eternally happy after you start your career? get married? turn 30? don't we do all of this bullshit to be happy? isn't that why i let physics rape me every night?

or does happiness even exist? now, bitter whitney would tell you no. but positive, upbeat whitney (she exists?) says yes. happiness is a state of mind. i'd develop on the idea...but then i'd feel like i was writing an essay. or worse, lecturing you.

i can't give you advice. or tell you what to do. it's against my nature. who am i to tell you how to do things? i dont think i'm better than you. i'm not even better/more important/more worthy than shit (the person).

so unless i ask you for advice: don't give it.

this is going no where. i hate it. i hate this blog.