I need to vent.

I'm having a bad day. Maybe I can chalk it up to PMS, in which case, it's a good thing, a normal thing, a healthy thing. It's not a Mer's freaking out thing, it's a natural thing. I hope it's PMS, because that means a) it'll pass, and b) nothing "unexpected" will be happening any time soon, if you catch my drift. Anyway, today has officially sucked. It's not even 10pm or anything, it's just 2:30pm, and I'm already saying today sucked, because it did, and nothing short of winning the lottery or gaining superpowers could possibly boost my morale now.

I don't know what possessed me to wear my cherry dress today, but I did-- and I even coordinated it with my denim purse and faux denim jacket, my black strappy heels, and a red hairclip. I thought I looked pretty cute, and so did at least two other females. But no males. Not even my so-called "boyfriend" (I'm contemplating alternative terms, since he doesn't seem to like that one. But maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead and not bother. Let's just call him by name) Scott. It's wrong to fish for compliments, I know, and maybe I jinxed myself when I told Mom when she called that I hoped Scott would think I was cute or something. But even a "why are you so dressed up?" would have sufficed. I don't know why.

But you know what? It's selfish and it's stupid for me to think that way. But again, this is my journal, my rant-zone, my vent. So I'm going to vent. Scott's going to try and move out of the place he's been sharing with the other guys in Hollywood soon, since he's pretty much just mooching off of them and it's not working out. It's not that the guys are bugged by him, but Scott's rather different from them, so he just needs to go off and do his own thing. He was going to try and find an apartment with this other guy, but it's not working. So... what? His mind is elsewhere, focused on finding a place to live. I don't blame him, I'd be pretty stressed and freaked out if I didn't have a roof over my head.

But then, Scott's idea of a comfortable home with the "necessary elements" is pretty different from my own. It's things like that, among others, that draw the stark line between us, that make the contrasts all the sharper. It's scary saying and thinking this, but he sort of reminds me of Lonnie in the respect that he wants to "learn" something from me, and that's why he thinks we've crossed paths, or why we've come into each other's lives. He could be completely bullshitting me, but I doubt it; honesty is my policy, and frankly, I would have been happy if he said "I just wanna get laid" and it was the truth. But he didn't say that, and it's not the truth (I hope), and I'm still a big ugly mess of confusing emotions and stuff.

He seems so... ethereal at times. So inhuman, so unlike everyone else I'm used to. It's both attractive and repulsive at the same time. I'm notorious for not knowing a good thing when it slaps me upside the head like a giant halibut, so I'm determined not to let my self-doubt and self-loathing get the better of me this time. It's funny, because what Scott's worried about is falling back into his old self, who didn't have any self-respect, and now, here I am, the one seriously lacking. Why does he want to spend his time with me? It's ridiculous questioning these sort of things, but right now, in this time and place, I can't help it.

I feel like lunch today with him was useless, and I walked away from it feeling miserable. Everything to him is impermanent. But on the flip side, "all life is sacred." I mentioned how in Journalism, this big ugly spider crawled across my desk. Ant, fine. Aphid, fine. But spider? Maybe I should be legally diagnosed with arachnophobia or something, but I freaked. Nervous reaction-- I crushed it. Scott's a Buddhist. All life is sacred. -_- I killed an innocent creature.

Look, I don't mean to crash on anyone's belief systems, but I don't think all life is sacred. Tell that to my face, when I've lost my friends to murder, my sister to a so-called accident, my aunts to disease, my grandfather and mother (maternal) to stroke and heart attack, and my uncles to drug overdose. Tell that to someone who knows death like their own friggin' twin, and then we can discuss! I don't think spiders and humans are equal. I don't feel remorse about killing one. I don't kill for glee or sport. I see a spider, I scream, I stomp. Spiders make up for my indiscretion by breeding in the millions. Life goes on. Spiders will be around long after the human race has died out, I have no doubt about that. But I just wanted to yell at Scott so badly then and there, that he didn't understand, couldn't understand, and I'm horribly jealous and angry at him. For no stinkin' reason.

I guess self-control is a good thing at times.

To top the cake, not only was I broke and unable to keep myself occupied and happy on campus, but as I walked home (lonesome and upset), the dog on the corner of Wilbur and Plummer that I've been SO good at avoiding lately suddenly sprung up on me as I was walking past that house with the weak chain-link fence. It wouldn't stop growling and barking at me, and it surprised me so badly the first time, I nearly fell off the sidewalk and into oncoming traffic. Part of me wished I had so I could have just gotten hit by a car and ended it.

-_- These are the kind of thoughts that are incredibly dangerous to me. It's almost October, which means a little over a month to go before my self-imposed countdown ends! I want to live to be 20, really, I do! But if I keep wishing horrible things would happen to me for attention's sake, what's the point? I'll somehow find a way to make it happen, even if it's subconsciously, and then what? I'll have fulfilled my own prophecy and missed out on so much.

I started crying as I walked through the cul de sac. Everything, just peachy.

There were good things about today. Renata, Michelle, Amy (I think that's her name), and I have all agreed to do Japan for our Group Speech project, which we should be starting later this week. Geography was a bit depressing, as we couldn't watch the Michael Jackson music video, so instead we watched the depressing "Children of Rio." Journalism was crazy, as usual-- between Ms. Henry and the spider, the class was "fun," to a degree. I got my Media Notebook Entry 2 draft back, so I have to make the revisions on that this week, as the final copy is due Oct. 6. And Baba's roast chicken sandwich tasted okay, as did my Granny Smith apple.

But I'm just so sapped of any energy or willpower, I don't even feel like playing FFX-2 over and over until I finally oversoul Chac and beat that motha. And I really want to, too. *sigh* I just... I feel "blah." This is one of those times when I can't decide what's more dangerous-- me alone, with all these thoughts, or me with others, possibly a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Half of me wants to lie in bed and just cry all day, while the other half wants to go out and do something spontaneous or weird just to do it, and be distracted.

I have homework I should be doing, but my eyes hurt so much right now... maybe I'll just curl up in the recliner and try to sleep or something. *sigh*