I feel kind of insulted. Now I know when it comes to men I can have what some people call "low standards" because I don't find buff men attractive enough to date but when it comes to women I'm very picky. If I'm going to make out with a girl, she had better be something I'm attracted to. Because I'm already a female, so I've already got what another girl has to offer. So my female counterpart had better be bumpin'. I know I can bring the heat so I don't want to be left in the cold.
Taylors gf said she was considering me and would even leave him for me. Shaly said taylors got quite the mixed up taste in women (going from dating me to dating girls that look like guys). He tells me he loves me and is lonely and feels unloved. But then turns right around to say that she makes him happy and is helping him. Sure, he can downgrade all he wants, he'll still never have me. And she'll never be me. With the kind of mood he puts me in I feel fine saying he can kiss my ass but then he'll post it on facebook and blah blah blah. Same story different day. And it's all too bad.
I'm getting my tattoo this weekend. I'll post pics on facebook. Big deliberation on whether or not to tell my mom first. Shane said that if it's bothering me this much that I should just tell her. I'm an adult and will do what I want anyways. I just don't want her to feel like I went behind her back or that I have a ton of extra money to throw around (which I don't).
Speaking of which I found a website online where I can buy Thunderbird toys (Finally). All I had to do was join the website (and since its an official website club I had to pay...which I am NOT going to put on here how much I am willing to spend due to my love) and I get free stuff in the mail and then have the ability to buy the goods online and through catalog. My goal of finding sweet Tbrird goods is finally coming true! I found a Speed Racer tshirt in Salvation Army today and I can't wait to wear it to bed. (Just me and Speed Racer in bed). woot. ~~
John had called it out. When we were dating and arguing, he said Taylor would just do it again. (this is connected to my last post). He said he'd do something ridiculous and it'd come back to find me and he'd post it on Facebook again. God damn it Taylor. John was right. I hung my head as I texted John to say I was sorry for defending someone who, so clearly, doesn't defend me when I'm getting bashed. He apologized and said it doesn't make up for the shit he did to me. The fights and controlling. It was wrong. Yes, It was, but he was still right. I said sorry and after talking about it for a few minutes he said that we were cool again in his eyes and I could stop by whenever I wanted. I said thanks and that I appreciated it. It felt good. Not that I'm any more happier with him, but he was right and I have him props.
I wish he knew, actually knew, how much it hurts to even have memories of him. To know that at one point in time we were so lost in bliss that nothing could stop us and the world did stop at our backyards and we were okay with that. I loved him more than I've ever loved anyone and to know that that touch and feeling is gone forever hurts. The heart dies a slow death. Shedding each hope until there is nothing left. Just shadows.
I don't mean to hurt him, but Taylor is so far off on one mind set that I could say Hi and he'd find a reason to get mad. It doesn't help he's still doing immature things like talking about me on Facebook (but making sure to delete me first so that not even I could defend myself). I had to receive a call from my sister in order to know what was going on. His friends bashed me for a while saying it was "Her loss". Where the fuck were they when Taylor was having problems and being expelled from school? He was alone even when he was with me. I have a LIFE I can't be hovering over him when I have work and school and a need to be out with my other friends as well. Alex had completely stopped talking to him, and Anthony, who had a lot to say for someone who doesn't know me (like all his friends really) lives in another STATE. He's never there for Taylor when he needs him. So like they have a right to talk.
Lately, life has become mostly about getting out with friends all night and saving as much money as I can before fall semester starts (sooner than I thought next month). I'm having a slight issue keeping it above my budget line, and I doubt I'll make my budget goal for the summer. Shane's great about me though. We go out a lot and he's looking for a more fuel efficient, sportier car.
I wish I could say I was at peace though. I am happy. I eat more often and can write again. But there's still that need to punch someone. Still that pent up anger I want to get out. But I guess that's life and I'll just need to get over it. Got my hair cut.
In the tenth year of Yuan-ho I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Kiu-kiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Pen-pu and heard in the midnight from a neighboring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon Inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.
I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Hsun-yang River,
Where maple-leaves and full-grown rushes rustled in the autumn.
I, the host, had dismounted, my guest had boarded his boat,
And we raised our cups and wished to drunk - but alas, there was no music.
For all we had drunk we felt no joy and were parting from each other.
When the river widened mysteriously toward the full moon -
We had heard a sudden sound, a guitar across the water.
Host forgot to turn back home, and guest to go his way.
We followed where the melody led and asked the player’s name.
The sound broke off…then reluctantly she answered.
We moved our boat near hers, invited her to join us,
Summoned more wine and lanterns to recommence our banquet.
Yet we called and urged a thousand more times before she started toward us.
Still hiding half her face from us behindher guitar.
…She turned the tuning-pegs and rested several strings;
We could feel what she was feeling, even before she played:
Each string a meditation, each note a deep thought,
As if she were telling us the ache of her whole life.
She knit her brows, flexed her fingers, then began her music,
Little by little letting her heart share everything with ours.
She brushed the strings, twisted them slow, swept them, plucked them -
First the air of The Rainbow Skirt, then The Six Little Ones.
The large strings hummed like rain,
The small strings whispered like a secret,
Hummed, whispered - and then were intermingled.
Like a pouring of large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
We heard an oriole, liquid, hidden among flowers.
We heard a brook bitterly sob along a bank of sand…
By the checking of its cold touch, the very string seemed broken
As though it could not pass; and the notes, dying away
Into a depth of sorrow and concealment of lament,
Told even more in silence than they had told in sound…
A silver vase abruptly broke with a gush of water,
And out leapt armored horses and weapons that clashed and smote -
And, before she laid her pick down, she ended with one stroke,
And all four strings made one sound, as of rending silk…
There was quiet in the east boat and quiet in the west,
And we saw the white autumnal moon enter the rivers heart.
…when she had slowly played the pick back among the strings,
She rose and smoothed her clothing and, formal, courteous,
Told us how she had spend her girlhood at the capital,
Living in her parents’ house under the Mount of Toads,
And she had mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen,
With her name recorded first in the class- roll of musicians,
Her art the admiration even of experts,
Her beauty the envy of all the leading dancers,
How noble youths of Wu-ling had lavishly competed
And numberless red scrolls of silk been given for one song,
And silver combs with shell inlay been snapped by her rhythms,
And shirts the color of blood been spoiled with stains of wine…
Season after season, joy and followed joy,
Autumn moons and spring winds had passed without her heeding,
Till first her brother left for the war, and then her aunt died.
And evenings went and evenings came, and her beauty faded -
With ever fewer chariots and horses at her door;
So that finally she gave herself as wife to a merchant
Who, prizing money first, careless how he left her,
Had gone, a month before, to Fou-liang to buy tea.
And she had been tending an empty boat at the river’s mouth.
No company but the bright moon and the cold water.
And sometimes in the deep of night she would dream of her triumphs.
And be wakened from her dreams by the scalding of her tears.
…Her very first guitar-note had me sighing;
Now, having heard her story, I was sadder still.
“We are both unhappy - to the sky’s end.
We meet. We understand. What does acquaintance matter?
I came, a year ago, away from the capital
And am now a sick exile here in Kiu-kiang -
And so remote as Kui-kiang that I have heard no music,
Neither string nor bamboo, for a whole year.
My quarters, near the River Town, are low and damp,
With bitter reeds and yelled rushes all about the house.
And what is to be heard here, morning and evening? -
The bleeding cry of cuckoos, the whimpering of apes
On flowery spring mornings and moonlit autumn nights
I have often taken wine up and drunk it all alone,
Of course there are the mountain songs and the village pipes,
But they are crude and strident, and grate on my ears.
And tonight, when I heard you playing your guitar,
I felt as if my hearing were bright with fairy music.
Do not leave us. Come, sit down. Play for us again.
And I will write you a ballad to the tune you have just sung.”
…Moved by what I said, she stood there for a moment,
Then sat again to her strings - and they sounded even sadder,
Although the tunes were different from those she had played before…
The feasters, all listening, covered their faces.
But who of them all was crying the most?
This Kiu-kiang official. My blue sleeve was wet.
Written by: Bo Juyi (772-846) considered one of China’s greatest poets.
I took my first pregnancy test today! Yep. And no, not what you think. Before Taylor gave up on me and started dating a girl who slits her wrists (cuz he can only date girls who have problems to make himself feel better about his) we had gotten intimate and guess what? I haven't had a period in over a month. Not to mention I'm having other symptoms to tag team the effect. Well I almost made myself sick with the thought of baring his child while I'm twitterpated with Shane. Everything is as it should be. When Taylor and I first broke up I was shaken because the perfect picture I had of Taylor was ruined. And I missed him. but now Shane has given me that new image and I'm happy again. I'm writing and EATING and designing clothes again (which btw I'll be posting those pics on facebook very soon).
ANYWAYS...so I took the test and saw the results. What would I do being pregnant with Taylors kid? Truth is, I wanted to know so early because I wanted to know if I could catch the abortion train or not. But I'M NOT PREGNANT! yay!! Later biznatches!
