Oh boy. I don't like journaling much anymore.

I haven't even started them yet.

100 for Francesca's workshop. I worked and got notes; too bad the ADD kicked in and I'm pretty sure she looked mad because I kept like...spacing when she gave me notes. I must've had the hugest douchey, lackadaisical face on me. Like, completely blank. Sucky deal, but whatevs. I had fun.

She makes me nervous and she has weird hair. I like Aladren's methods more.

SOC about pretentiousness and other things. Good read, I must say:

"I can feel myself becoming pretentious. I don't like where this is going; I honestly don't. I hope I can change, cause I was liking who I was becoming for a few minutes. It was nice. I think I'm surrounding myself with better people who I'm trying to be the real me around. I'm happy I'm finding my voice writing-wise, but you know what? I'd love for that to match the exterior.

I hope God is one sick fuck, or I won't be getting into heaven. For my sake.

Do I sound like Ari See? What a pathetic fuck. I'm just glad I didn't end up like that. God.

STOP COMPLAINING, YOU CUNT.

I want to start the mainstage. I remember freshman year, Ari used to write about 'what inspired her that day.' I mean, GOD. You can't be inspired every day, can you? Stimulation overload.

On Saturday, I went to help my Mema do crap cause she got out of the hospital. I found out that my rich, smart, liberal aunt and uncle would be there. It got me really nervous. They are articulate in conversations, and I want to throw words up when I'm around people like that. They were talking about the bajillion places they've traveled recently, and how my cousin is doing really well and traveling, and I freaked out. So I didn't say anything. Neither did my mother; I guess she realized her life fails as much as mine does compared to them right now.

When I did talk, I sounded like a fucking imbecile. And plus I didn't have any makeup, perfume, and didn't shower that day cause I thought I didn't have to impress anyone. God fucking damnit. I HATE THAT. I choke up for wanting to sound smarter but end up looking like more of an asshole in the end? What IS that? Jesus in heaven.

Speaking of him/her/it, I still need to formulate all of THOSE opinions. Like, you know ones that I've been previously pretty ambiv about. Like legit? What do you care about me caring about something? What's your problem? Go pray or not pray and enjoy your life, and go away. No of your business, douche.

Is it stupid that I feel stupid for believing in something? That I feel it's useless? That I'll be psychologically bullied into buying into my friends' beliefs or eventually find out that what I've invested good thinking time in is all a lie? That it's just residual catholic guilt I haven't shaken off yet?

And fucking all of these TRAGEDIES. God, really. I feel like helping people around me first before being a maverick and going on some power trip to save the world. Why would you do that? It's SO dumb.

I guess that's why we have art. It's therapeutic and cathartic and cleansing and I really like it a lot. If I could help one person, that would be great.

Then what will dramaturgy do to help people? How will massaging my ego through writing and expanding upon my opinions and knowledge help any person other than myself? I am REALLY fucking selfish. At least with artists, they're helping people with their brain farts or masterpieces. In some way. It's beautiful. I love art. It's fucking awesome.

I feel that if I ever wanted to go through my like...soul to find something to create, I feel it's cut off and that I hinder impulses. Because I know that the end result won't be good enough.

But what's good enough? I don't understand how it can just come out of you. How do you do that?

I feel TEARS welling up in my eyes. What the hell is this? Some chickflick bullshit?

I remember seeing Brian O'Mahoney's status once saying the lyrics from the dresden dolls song night reconnaissance. it was something like 'there's nothing more cruel than children who come from good homes.'

That pisses me off SO much. Amanda Palmer FAIL. One, you're like thirty, shut the fuck up. Two, YOU ARE SO PRETENTIOUS. What the eff is WRONG with you?

Why does pretentiousness bother me so much?

I love my friends. Most of them.

I want to keep writing. I don't know if I should.

I'll save it for later. I like these self-talks.

You're disgusting and no one and no one will ever love you.

I'm pretty sure that sentence ^^^ was the backstory of why I suck and why I say I suck. It happens.

Shit happens. Rhyme."

AND END SOC!