|
| Rare as it may be, I do have urges to journal.
Unsaid things will find a way to survive. People cannot keep secrets locked in forever. As a general rule, secrets will surface. But sometimes the shame of a secret or the unavailability of a trustworthy soul, will keep a secret locked up for a very long time.
There are some things about my life I have no desire to tell anyone. There are others that I wish I could tell someone. In the end, I journal or create mysterious blogs alluding to my secrets :)
I am one of those people, that usually says too much. I like having my input. I find it difficult to find the balance between divulgence and restraint.
To me, to divulge equates to trust and friendship. If I tell someone a lot about myself it is because i am reaching out, opening up, and in some ways becoming vulnerable. I probably open up too much, because I have a ridiculously unnecessary need to be liked. I'd rather have loved and lost than never loved at all.
***SIDE NOTE**** in regards to throwing around the L word--I am all for it. I don't think people say it enough. Love is something to live by not to be afraid of. But I would caution people to know the difference between love and infatuation. Love is selfless, kind, forgiving, and sometimes exceptionally sexy. People should not have to earn your love; love does not require a certain amount of time to elapse before it can be said. If you treat love as an ideal, it will never be reached.
There I go, spouting off.
My stupid mouth.
| | |
| Just when I think I'm getting smarter, I look back at the xanga I've now had for 4 years--and I question if I had any smarts to begin with.
More than anything I hate reading old entries and seeing the blatant insecurities and youthful unabandonment that my writing suggests. I always found it agonizing not knowing what someone truly thought of me. If only I could crawl inside their heads; see what they're seeing; see what I should be seeing about myself.
The best way that I've dealt with my own insecurities is through scrutiny and negativity. And since I scrutinize my life and relationships I see more and more that everyone hates a negative person. Especially when that person is only negative about themselves. Who doesn't hate the kid who is negative about getting a B on a test or the kid who is perfectly attractive but is always complaining about their looks. I for one, hate those people. Doesn't it suck realizing you're the type of person you hate? And this is why opposites attract, my friends.
I recognize the importance of self realization. This is why I don't erase my old entries on xanga even though it's tempting to clean the slate. But the truth is that the slate is never clean and the past is still the same old past. There's no point regretting shit or getting pissed off at the shit all over your slate. I am who I am, I am who I've been, and I can be who I want to be.
I'm sick of being negative and denying that I don't care what other people think. I'm good at making pretend I am who I want to be. It's about time I own up to the person I want to be.
There's nothing tackier than a resolve woman.
I just happen to like tacky.
-Christina
| | |
| I'm turning over a new leaf all the time it seems.
Have a bad week, and I'll tell myself 'I'll just turn over a new leaf'
I want
I resolve
I leave
Leaf me alone,
Christina
| | |
|
See I've got my eyes on the skies
The heavenly bodies up high
And if you're in the mood to take a ride
Then strap on a suit and get inside
If you wanna fly, come and take a ride
Take a space ride with the cowboy, baby
If you wanna fly, come and take a ride
Take a space ride with the cowboy, baby
Why-yi-yi-yippie-yi-yay-yippie-yi-yo-yippie-yi-yay
Whi-yi-yi-yippie-yi-yay-yippie-yi-yo-yippie-yi-yo
| | |
| I am a strong believer in talking with my hands. I can blame it on my Italian heritage, but there's something about swinging your arms around wildly that gets your message across.
The worst of it happens when i'm driving. *you did not just cut me off hands* *you've got to kidding you're a failure of a driver hands* *could you possibly go any slower hands*
I am your average super commuter--2 hour roundtrip everyday. And with gas as outrageously high as it is, I find myself making *you can't be telling me gas is $4/gal hands*
I have a really bad habit of saluting cops whenever I pass by. I don't really think they appreciate the gesture. And speaking of coperoos, my mom and I got pulled over the other day: one of our breaklights was out. You know how you're not supposed to make any sudden movements--just keep your hands on the wheel and be polite. My mom obviously never learned cop etiquette, and I thought for sure the cop was going to ask to open the trunk because of my mom's suspicious behavior. When the cop drove away I told my mom that she was acting so paranoid that he must of thought there was a dead body in the trunk. She promptly reminded me that could soon be a reality. I love it when my mom threatens me :DDDD
Drive safely,
Christina
| | |
|
