Malice

So it turns out that my initials (MM) not only stand for my name, they also stand for Malicious Manipulator. Or at least that's how I feel right now.

One thing I'm going to have to work on about myself, is not projecting my feelings onto other people (though it wasn't intentional at the time). I was probably pissed for whatever reason, so I just unwittingly passed those feelings on to someone else. Okay, let's be honest here, I was jealous. I WAS JEALOUS.

I didn't even think about it as it was happening but I still feel INCREDIBLY guilty, and I hope I haven't completely wrecked their relationship. On the other hand, (angry at him though I am) I still feel strangely proprietary, and I kind of hope I have.

I feel like if I have to go over there and look at him, I'm going to suffocate.

...

So I guess I'm opting out of this weekend.

....

I fucking miss Roger. And I want a fucking Oh Henry bar :(

Today's Lesson: Just because you like yourself, doesn't make you not an asshole.

Current Music: Viz by Le Tigre

Fuck My Life. Or Not. Whatever.

Sooo, telling that girl at work that I'm a virgin was obviously a HEINOUS mistake. Why am I so fucking stupid? And why is it such a big deal? And how [HOW???] does someone think they're doing an adequate of convincing you to have sex while telling you a) I'm pregnant and b) btw, this dude gave me chlamydia???

Maybe I'm a huge snob, but I've always believed that I was smarter than most of the people I met, whether that pertained to actual intelligence, or just being emotionally stable. But that whole conversation just reaffirmed it for me.

Yup. I'm a huge snob.

And I don't fucking care.

Today's Lesson: Just because you know you're not perfect, doesn't mean you can't love yourself.

Current Music: Bloody Sunday by U2

Nostalgia

I remember sleeping over at your house once. You were five and I was seven. I was wide awake and there you were next to me, peacefully sleeping with your thumb in your mouth. I remember sticking my thumb into my mouth, hoping it would help me fall asleep. It didn't, but it was salty and I guess that was nice.

It cracks me up when I think about the fact that you only stopped sucking your thumb a few years ago, and even more when I think about the fact that it was only a little before that that your mom threw your pacifier away.

I'll miss you, and I wish we were still friends like we used to be. I love you, and inspite of everything that's happened over the years, you were still my favorite person.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf...And Other Lies People Tell Themselves

Sometimes I think girls are like little lost puppies, wandering around, lonely and aimless, until some guy comes along, scoops us up and takes us home.

How depressing (and accurate) a thought is that?

Today's Lesson: Girls Suck, guys suck, life sucks.

Katharine Parr, The Smart One.

I love Katharine Parr, the sixth of Henry the VIII's wives. I consider her the most intelligent, logical and independent of the six. However, she could also be considered a prime example of how love turns people into idiots.

Enter Thomas Seymour. He was Jane Seymour (Henry's third wife)'s brother and after her death he stuck around and became one of the king's advisors.

Stupid thing One:
An inappropriate amount of time after Henry's death, Katharine married Thomas, and consequently lost her title as queen, which was (most likely) the foundation of his attraction to her.

Stupid Thing Two:
Almost immediately after their marriage, for the first time in her life, (rather astonishing if you think about the fact that she'd been married four times) she got pregnant. Around the same time she was carrying her daughter (future Mary Seymour), Thomas being the AMBITIOUS man that he was started making advances towards a fourteen year old Elizabeth (future Queen Elizabeth I), who'd been living with Katharine since after her father's death. To make a long story short, she eventually sent Elizabeth away, I suppose, not knowing what else to do.

Anyway, the point that I'm trying to make here is that number one, love turns people stark raving mad (which is why I'm not sure I want any part of it), and two, there are two types of women in the world: The Katharine Parrs and the Anne Boleyns. Logical and pragmatic, or impulsive and entirely controlled by their emotions (not that Anne wasn't intelligent) These tendencies will determine whether or not come you come out of life on your own terms (whatever those are), or you come out of life wherever your wayward emotions dumped you. Which would be, in Anne's case, in a hole with your head under your arm.

Since Masturbating All Day Is Not a Legitimate Form of Employment...

I got a job. I still have no idea how, since my resume sucks and all I remember of my interview is a rapid traumatic blur (in which I fidgeted and sweated profusely). So far, I love it!

I get along well with most of the girls... Well, all of them, but one in particular can be a mite moody, and must (like a volcano, or a cliff after a hurricane) be tiptoed around at all times. I love my customers, very cool for the most part, at worst some of them can be a little stand-offish. But it strikes me again and again how amazing most people are, and they don't even realize it.

On another note, I've suddenly noticed how vulnerable I am to subliminal peer pressure. For the past ten months my mother has been nagging me to get a job, and I have (albeit somewhat lazily) been searching for one. Then, fast forward to last month, my friends all have jobs, I feel left out, and BOOM, I've got one.

Example 2: A bunch of the girls at my work are going back to University soon, and I suddenly feel like a loser for not being in University. And now I want to be back in school, for something, for anything! Because working has plagued me with the sudden feeling that my life is going nowhere, and that needs to be remedied AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. 

I am WAAYY too smart and beautiful to end up a 30-year-old virgin, living with her mother. 

Current Music: Scenery by Blondie

Hair Envy v.2

I recently decided to stop bouncing around and take the Henna Plunge. For those of you that don't know, Henna is pretty much the equivalent of the Holy Grail of hair care for a black person. If you REALLY need more info, here's a link to CurlyNikki's website. She's pretty much the queen when it comes to natural hair, and I spend more time reading her blog than I do doing ANYTHING else (except maybe watching porn, but that's another issue for another day).

 

So here I am, on one of the hottest days recorded in Canadian history with (basically) hot, squishy, conditioning mud in my hair. Lovely. I've also been baby-ing my hair recently, because I've been noticing a lot more breakage than I usually get.

 

In other news, I'm tossing out the comb. My hair may be to delicate to handle it. I've been trolling MopTopMaven's blog for the longest time, and prior to washing her hair, she sprays a mix of conditioner and water on it, and starts combing it. I decided to try that. After seeing about two broken pieces of hair around the sink (for about half of my head, but whatevs, breakage is breakage) I panicked and decided to finger detangle. Can you say DREAM??

 

In the interest of baby-ing, I've worn my hair in twists all week (which I'm planning to do for awhile) only touching it to moisturize and seal. My hair despises twists! The ends tangle like crazy and the roots dread up(that's right people! DREADLOCKS) if I leave them alone for too long. But this time with just a little conditioner and my FINGERS my hair came apart like, like, like... I HAVE NO IDEA, BUT IT WAS BEAUTIFUL!

 

And to my wide-tooth comb (or all seven of them): Screw you, dude! I'm free! HA! FREE, I TELL YOU!

 

SEE YOUR ASS THE NEXT TIME I DECIDE TO ROLLER SET!!! WOOHOO!

 

Now. Me and my mud-packed hair are off to watch...tv.

 

*coughcoughporncoughcough* 

 

And a little Hair Porn for the masses: