It's Happening Again

Where I get all antsy and crave change. (Hence the subtle changes even on this blog- the header and constant play with colors.) It happens every so often. I want to take a trip, go anywhere. I just want to be anywhere but here.

My birthday is coming up and I really don't have any idea what my plans will be. For the past two years I have hosted many an epic night. (Trust me, when I didn't know how the next year could top the previous, it did.) But this year I don't really feel like doing anything that includes lots of people. I don't know, I want to do something epic though. What I really want to do is take a trip to SF, SD, or Vegas. I just need to go somewhere. I feel like if I don't do something drastic soon, I'll scream. But I know I don't have the means to go anywhere big. Being broke sucks. Not haing a job sucks. Not wanting to ask my parents sucks. Knowing their company is almost bankrupt sucks. The fucking economy right now sucks.

At least I will be getting either 1 or 2 tattoos for my birthday. (I have been trying to save up. Not going out as much makes it so that I haven't been spending money.) That will be quite exhilarating for me, not to mention I love the pain. It's addiction and it hurts so good. (:

**Last night as I was reading Paint It Black, it is a terribly morbid book (the despairing ones are the best right?) but written so crassly, cleverly, and almost beautiful in a stinging bittersweet way. I thought about how a couple of days ago I was picking off the last yellow lemon off of the lemon tree in my backyard. It was quite unreachable but I busted the heavily pull on branch maneuver and of course got seriously scratched up in the process. I didn't mind, of course I didn't.

But I digress, as I was reading, I couldn't help but not be able to focus because my mind was inauspiciously on a tragic something else that constituted of a extreme suckage reaction from my body. So I started looking at my arms and my barely there scars, and suddenly I had a huge urge to feel the intense coldness of the sharp stainless steel medal dragged across my arm. I wanted it so bad. But I resisted. Goddamn. As I'm thinking about it right now, I want it still.

I don't know, I think I might relapse soon.. (I've already relapsed in the tobacco department and bought another pack of Marlboro's on the way home after tequila thursday, what can I say? I really wanted a cigarette and then some. Oh well, hah.) but if I did, I don't think it would matter or I would care for the matter.

Oh god, my mom just came in my room and warned in Chinese, (loosely translated of course) "You better not have become a recluse." (Meaning all the baggage that comes along with it, ie; depression and what not. Very recently she has started to ask me, almost everyday in fact, if I am okay or if anything is wrong. She has been noticing how I barely go out anymore. I stayed cooped up inside the house for several days at a time. You think she knows? Though I'm great at pretending like nothing's wrong in front of other people.

Meh.

I've noticed I have been trying to minimize my profanity use and have definitely been less lascivious in my speech as well as less narcissistic (I think it's because before my trials of inhabiting bright and shiny qualities I thought my older posts came off as too mean and rude) Well it's going to stop. I'm sick of limiting my free expression. I prefer to be a blunt. It's more fun. If you can't say what you really want to say here, where can you say it then? Cheers motherfuckers.