Author: Mitzi

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Feeling Not Good Enough?

I feel abandoned. Just because I’m not allowed to go do something I get left behind. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own fun but I hate being left out. I think it stems from my childhood.

I grew up in a city about 6 miles from my school and all of my friends. I never got to do that “hanging out at ____’s house and riding bikes and playing in the clubhouse after school” thing. I was always left out. I only go to hear stories of what happened when I went to school the next day. I never got to hang out with them on weekends because that was “family time” and besides the fact that I had Chinese school and art classes from 9 a.m. to 3  p.m. on Saturdays, so really Sundays were family days.

I wasn’t allowed to sleepover at anyone’s house…and I’m still not. So I was always left out of slumber parties, camping trips, or any overnight trips for that matter. My friends would get to hang out late at the Ice Chalet and go to city sponsored dances (which sounds really lame but when you’re in middle school it’s like the hot club everyone goes to). I could never go, I always had school the next day, or they were going to be out too late or what not.

Anyways, I was always left out of things and no matter how much my friends said they loved me and shit I never felt like I was part of their group. While they were out I would be at home watching TV, alone, in my room. I couldn’t call anybody because everyone was out (duh!) and nobody ever said “Oh I’ll come over and hang out with you” or “I’ll stay home and talk to you on the phone.”

So now when my close friends go out and I can’t come along (not just friends, but boyfriends too) I feel really abandoned and forgotten. I feel like if they really valued my friendship or if they really cared then they would want to hang out with me, even if it is just over the phone. So I get mad and I push them away… and end up alone anyway.

Excuse me, I have to go cry into my pillow now.

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Censored For Your Protection

It’s hard to separate internet life from real life when you introduce your friends to your internet life.

You can no longer write anything personal without having questions to answer in person…and you can no longer write about your real feelings without possibly hurting someone else’s.

I think my journal entries used to be a lot more interesting…for the first coupla weeks anyway. Then I had hell to pay for some stuff I had written so now I have to be careful and I hate it.

bullocks to this, man.

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The Birth of an Idea

On the way to Disneyland last night I looked out the window and saw one of the things I love most about LA. The freeways of Los Angeles and their overpasses, underpasses, highways, and byways (I have no clue what the fuck a byway is). There is a section of the 710 freeway that goes under several other connecting ramps like separate directions of the 105 and some others that I don’t know because I’ve never been on them.

I love the way the freeways are lit up at night when everything around is dark you can’t see the graffiti, the debris along the shoulder and in the landscaping, the broken windows of abandoned factories along the freeway. You only see the dance of the red and white lights and how they glide along in formation. It’s like a dance, a ballet, a circuit board alive with the sparks of a million connections per second. Like a group of wild mustangs galloping through the last unclaimed lands of the Midwest… altogether with speed and grace, one fluid movement.

The inventors of the automobile…
It must have been so exciting for them to be on the brink of inventing a machine that would change the face of transportation forever. How did it take for a car to be parked in the driveway of almost every house in America? And more in others to compensate for those without? What would they say if they would see what cars and exhaust have done to the environment? If they could see the list of names of people killed by drunk drivers? or even those killed in car accidents not related to alcohol? If they could see what happens to drunk college girls in the back of a van full of drunk college guys? If they could see the trash thrown out of car windows as they speed through cities on their way to work? The cigarette butts, the empty bottles and cans, the used napkins?

What would they say? Would they even care? These devices of modern society could not have been their intentions…and could not have been foreseen…but what would they have to say about it now, if they could see this?

Working at a car dealership I see people buy cars all the time. They walk out with smiles on their faces…well, if they got a good deal. Most of the patrons of this dealership are pretty well off, these are Mercedes-Benzes after all. Everyone always says “Congratulations on your new purchase”. They leave in their new cars and drive away. It seems so weird to me to congratulate someone on buying a car…nobody ever does it for buying clothes…or toilet paper.

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Waiting… Waiting

Had a test. Took it. Ate some chicken. Stomach hurts. Essay due. Tomorrow. Haven’t started. Low on cash. Spending too much.
Waiting for checks.
Waiting for November 8th.
Waiting for January.
Waiting for sleep.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

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Can I Get Off This Ride Now?

This is the time when I realize I should not have procrastinated again. This is when I think back on all I have done for the past three weeks and realize I have not done ANY work at all.

This is also the time when I must fill my days with reading, studying and writing. I must not have any fun for the next week to make up for all the bullshit that I have been up to in the past.

And what am I going to school for anyway? To get a fabulous degree that will help me get an O.K. job which I’ll most likely hate and will make me miserable and I’ll just wish I was in middle school again when life was easy and I didn’t have to worry about things like rent, taxes, deadlines, and relations. I’ll be working for the proverbial man and getting nothing out of it just so that I can continue life on this planet and die with nothing.

I could work hard but what would I be working for? what would be the trophy at the end of my obstacle course? a party? working hard for a month so that I can go to Disneyland? or some high priced restaurant? getting my hair done? is that all life is about? it’s crap!

please kill me now.