Social Disappointment

Sometimes it's too hard figuring out what people want. It's such an elusive thing, tying that down and conquering it.
I want to believe that I don't care whether I matter to people, but that's a lie. It's true I don't care what they think...about my beliefs, actions, appearance, etc.
But that ultimate dismissal of me overall of my whole self, the blank empty look in the eye of disinterest and boredom; the hazed over mishandling I've recieved; the failure to connect...that I can't take.
Because I know I have a lot to offer. I like myself a lot. In a healthy way, I am in love with myself, but not in conceitedness or pride, just honest perception of who I really am. There's a peace in knowing yourself inside out and being wholly satisfied with it. I cant live without other people, but I really am my own best friend....best friend.

The trouble is wanting too much intimacy with people. Something in me demands absolute genuine and honest portrayal from others. I try looking into people but they often wont let me in. Maybe I only look too much and not say enough. People respond to talking much better, whne you put yourself out in the open first, verbally. Everyone has their own fancy as well. We all like particular things...
It's silly to like someone else just because you have the same hobbies, you work in the same place, you have the same shirt, or you both like the movie Twilight or Harry Potter.

I dislike trivial connections, and I always want to skip past it and get to the ultimately comfortable presence of being with someone, platonic. Most people just like to have those phases of disclosure. I have to stop assuming people like themselves as much as I like myself, that they are comfortable within. People have things to hide.

I want people to come into me, to see all of me. Im not shy. Im not ashamed of anything that I am. I am so outrageously honest. I have no sense of privacy. I have no modesty. Im not as meek as people think.
I project myself onto others, assume they're just as comfortable. Maybe their dismissal shouldn't be taken so personally.

Changed Plans

Dan and I were supposed to go up to the Amana colonies for this Labor Day weekend and then go camping afterwards near the Mississippi River.

But then he woke up this morning with an extreme sore throat, maybe strep. So instead I've been writing and am glad of it. I love spending languid days reading and writing, with unabounded freedom.

I still need to shower, though it's 3 in the afternoon.
I am unintentionally losing weight.
I feel better.

Sometimes I briefly like the way my hair looks when I first wake up, then I actually wake up and realize it's a sloppy fray and array of feather-like explosion.

Dan is mad at me because I told him I dont want to move to Illinois next year. He thinks we're going to break up over it. I think he's being extreme. I'm oddly not worried about it, now that I've made up my mind. But I dont like that he's fretting.

I'm still pretty much a huge baby.

I'm probably never going to grow up.

My cat was lying on my books this morning so I couldn't read them. I stared at his fur in the sun instead and tried seeing past the tiny slits of his eyes, but all that happened was that I was overcome with cute emotion.

FRI

DAY is today but I've never been one to get excited about the weekend. I try to see everyday as good and just as fun as the next or one before it. Wekks go by way too fast if we're always focusing on weekends and wanting them to get here faster. Weekends pass too fast as well because its all that desire to have time to yourself, time as freedom. But you've got to take your little bits of freedom here and there. Tuesday night can be as fun as Saturday...well, if you're not alcoholically inclined...which I am not. Maybe thats why people can only have fun on weekends...other people I mean. Because they have to have alcohol in order to have fun.
Oh geez! Now this blog goes no where. I was trying to make another beaten to death carpe diem point but i realized in the midst that its stupid anyway...that most kids my age dont have the kind of fun I do. Most kids are entertained by the monotonous and trivial...by feigned grasps at social acceptance, excitement by "love" and "friendship"

i really turned in another direction completely. im really not this pessimistic and negative....or cynical.
i dont like insincerity. i dont like anything that is not genuine. im too damn nice and honest to be happy with the human race...at least not 100%

maybe more like 87.39%

The First One

i'm mainly into nonfiction. i write a ton of it.
maybe too much, i could be just boring. but someone suggested i make a blog.
i've never had one before and i dont know how devoted i'll really be.

this is probably going to get pretty confessional. thats sort of my style. i'll put in bits from my journal occasionally...which is a massive thing.

i'll try to be entertaining but, frankly, i dont care whether you find it entertaining.

what's my purpose then? will this be a place of catharsis? will this be a place of ego boost? am i just wanting attention?

a purpose...
i like not having one. i like randomness in life. thats where real meaning lies. look for the obscurities, the things that dont make sense, the anomalies
you might get me then.