Hell.

The last few days have been sent from the very depths of Hell itself.

First my computer crapped out. Then I had to drive to north Scottsdale in the pouring rain to go buy another one. Which I did, and I'm very happy with it, but it was just an expense I wasn't planning on. And now I've found out I have to spend like $300 on books + other assorted shit for my German class. And it's been pouring rain, which wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that ASU is now basically ONE BIG GIANT PUDDLE to slog through on your way to class. My jeans were literally wet up to my knees and my shoes and socks were soaked. Do you know how much it sucks to have to sit through class with your feet freezing and soaking wet because there's water sloshing around in your shoes? It sucks a lot, let me tell you. Oh, and then of course we have the DOUCHEBAG SPEEDER. The DOUCHEBAG SPEEDER is pretty much just like he sounds - he drives his car down Lemon Street (which is the street right in front of my dorm) and, since ASU is currently ONE BIG GIANT PUDDLE, he ploughs into the water going 40 miles an hour. The reason this guy is not just a speeder but also a douchebag lies in the fact that there are pedestrians (like myself) walking on the sidewalk who get doused Splash Mountain-style when he churns on by, warm and cozy in his car that's probably got butt warmers too. Fucker. I hate being a pessimest (no I don't, actually, but I feel obligated to say that since nobody likes a pessimest), but if God actually existed, I'd feel pretty confident in saying that he'd be laughing at me about now.

I'm gonna go put my socks in the microwave.

Wanna know why I love Byki?

...because I just learned 30 Scottish-Gaelic words. Booya! (No, that is not one of the words.) My non-existent Scottish ancestors would be proud.

I took a nap today.

and I had a dirty dream. It was pretty good too.

Man. I wish I could dream more often.

If I'm done being an asshole, why does it still hurt?

I don't fucking know. I feel like I'm asking how many stars are in the sky, or how many steps I've taken in my lifetime.

Eerily appropriate.

"Wounded" by Good Charlotte. I knew there was a reason I liked them.


Lost and broken
Hopeless and lonely
Smiling on the outside
I hurt beneath my skin

My eyes are fading
My soul is bleeding
I'll try to make it seem okay
But my faith is wearing thin

So help me heal these wounds
They've been open for way too long
Help me fill this soul
Even though this is not your fault
That I'm open
And I'm bleeding
All over your brand-new rug
And I need someone to help me sew them up

I only wanted a magazine
I only wanted a movie screen
I only wanted the life I had read about and dreamed

And now my mind is an open book
And now my heart is an open wound
And now my life is an open soul for all to see

But help me heal these wounds
They've been open for way too long
Help me fill this soul
Even though this is not your fault
That I'm open
And I'm bleeding
All over your brand-new rug
And I need someone to help me...

So you come along
I push you away
Then kick and scream for you to stay
'Cause I need someone to help me
Oh, I need someone to help me

To help me heal these wounds
They've been open for way too long
Help me fill this soul
Even though this is not your fault
That I'm open
And I'm bleeding
All over your brand-new rug
And I need someone to help me sew them
I need someone to help me fill them
I need someone to help me close them up.

I think I've found my purpose.

I think most people go their whole lives without knowing what purpose they have in the world, or they figure it out too late. I realized, at some point over the last couple of days, that I am here to help people.

I can't say exactly what it was that made me realize this. Just that I noticed I kept saying to myself over and over, "I am the poster child for 'give til it hurts.' " Maybe that's not such a bad thing?

I'm still trying to process the irony though. That it sounds like I'm more or less willing to become a martyr, "for the greater good," when a certain someone has kind of always felt that way, and I chastised him for it. I'm a douchebag. Although that doesn't make you any less of one, either.

So now I've been tossing around the idea of being a living organ donor, like donating a kidney or a liver or bone marrow. Then I remembered my dad, a former alcoholic with diabetes, and I think I should save a kidney and my liver for him because he seriously might need it someday. So I think, for now, I'll look into placing myself on the national marrow registry. I think somehow I've come to believe that you can't fully appreciate life until you give it to someone else...not to mention the karma.

I talked about this with my mother, and it makes her very uncomfortable. She said that donating your organs when you die is "a very noble thing to do" but considers living donation to be something different. My mother is very bizarre and I don't understand how she grew up to possess her way of thinking. I guess I just wish people could be more open. Just imagine how different the world would be if everyone considered someone other than their own person. Maybe we wouldn't be in such a societal quagmire.

Sigh...I digress.

The Mixed Tape

This is morning
It's when I spend the most time
Thinking 'bout what I've given up
This is a warning
When you start the day just to close the curtains, you're
Thinking 'bout what I've given up

Where are you now?
As I'm swimming through the stereo
I'm writing you a symphony of sound
Where are you now?
As I rearrange the songs again,
This mix could burn a hole in anyone
But it was you I was thinking of

It was you I was thinking of

I read your letter
The one you left when you broke into my house
Retracing every step you made
And you said you meant it
And there's a piece of me in every single
Second of every single day
But if it's true then tell me how it got this way

Where are you now?
As I'm swimming through the stereo
I'm writing you a symphony of sound
Where are you now?
As I rearrange the songs again
This mix could burn a hole in anyone
But it was you I was thinking of

It was you I was thinking of

And I can't get to you
I can't get to you
And I can't get to you, you, you

And where are you now?
As I'm swimming through the stereo
I conduct a symphony of sound
Where are you now?
As I'm cutting through you track by track
I swear to God this bitch could sink the sun
But it was you I was thinking of

It was you I was thinking of

And where are you now?
And where are you now?

This is my mix tape for her
It's like I wrote
Every note
With my own fingers