Same shit, different day.

BlahblahblahHEALTHblahblahblahGETOUTOFMYHEADSTEVEblahblahblahBADDREAMSblahblahblahOHLOOKMOREMEDICATIONblahblahblahSTILLTIREDALLTHETIME.
And that's about it.

Oh, except that THE OSCARS are tomorrow. It's the only award show I actually care about, and spend every Oscar Night camped out in front of the TV watching the ceremony in its entirety.

Also, I'm obsessed with Easy A. I finally saw it earlier this week, and have literally watched it every day since then. It's THAT glorious.

Writing in Motion

Just in case you missed the posted links on Facebook, I started another blog just for my dance writing. And to try out WordPress because their layout options are so pretty. Today's post was originally my midterm paper for one of my classes last spring, but it was due the week that I hit a wall and stopped going to class. So I never got to turn it in. It's a profile of Lady Gaga and discusses how I went from completely detesting her music, to becoming a reluctant fan, to becoming a genuine fan. AND this paper happens to be where the subtitle of this blog comes from. That's the one good thing about all-night paper-writing frenzies; sleep deprivation and slap happiness will occasionally lead to silly Roccoco, Fragonard and Fellini references.

Anyway. Check it out if you're interested; I probably won't post the dance pieces on this blog anymore (maybe just link to them), and instead stick to personal writing. All the cross-posting just hurts my brain.

Waves

I'm wondering which is worse--constant pain, or pain that comes in waves. Right now, I'm thinking it's the latter. If you're constantly in pain, you're almost able to reprogram your brain to get used to it and not to expect anything more. Whereas when pain comes in waves, you never know when it'll hit. It comes out of nowhere and blindsides you, paralyzing you for awhile. And when that happens on a day when you're actually feeling okay with things, it hurts SO MUCH MORE than when it's constant.

O, My Dearest Little Cabbage!

I think some of my favorite Valentine's Day memories were from my high school French class. Every year, our teacher put out a bunch of construction paper, scissors, markers, etc. and we spent class that day making homemade valentine cards using French terms of endearment. My favorite expression was and has always been chou, which means "cabbage." Apparently it's a term of endearment to call loved ones cabbage? Ohh, how I love idioms! Plus, the expressions associated with chou are just damn fun to say; Mon petit chou, or Chou-chou. So, Bonne Fête de Saint-Valentin, mes petits choux.

I just ate my weight in tasty Mexican takeout from Rosita's. The hostess who took my order was completely overworked and doing a million things at once, but still managed to be so sweet and poised. I think I tipped her like 30% for being such a badass. Now I intend on cozying up with Ragnar and West Wing DVDs before dozing off early. And will definitely not try to think of Valentine's memories that still hurt a little too much to think about because I'm a huge baby. Or maybe I'll just allow myself to hurt instead of trying to repress it...I haven't made up my mind yet. But I do know that I'll have nuzzles from Ragnar and tasty oratory from President Bartlet to anesthetize me a little. And that's a-okay with me.

Now because I not-so-secretly have a gleefully filthy mind and an obsession with vintage ads and propaganda, I leave you with these delightful morsels. :) XOXO.

Remember, you can't beat the Axis if you get VD.

Inspiration Boards: Pink Hair #1

I couldn't be happier that this stupid week is over. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to think about cheerier topics.

Like pink hair.

I am absolutely ob-SESSED with pink hair, and always have been. I have no idea what sparked this obsession, but I lovelovelove it. Putting a little magenta in my hair a few months ago made my heart go pitter-pat.

Now I'm dying (DYE-ing? Heh heh...) to go all-out for realsies this time, and bleach my hair so I can dye it bright pink (and maybe try other crazy colors like blue and purple, for shits and giggles). I've always wanted to try this, but haven't done so for a myriad of reasons. The main one being that I actually love my natural hair color and think it's a really pretty shade of brown; I'm worried that bleaching/dying it this much might mess up that pretty natural color forever even after the dye fades out. The other main reason is that I know how much work goes into maintaining the color. I think faded color looks so gross, and I'm not sure I have the energy to re-dye it every couple of weeks. So right now, I'm interested in maybe dying my whole head the same dark magenta color that I used to highlight it a few months ago. That way, I'll still have a head of pink hair without having to bleach first. Stepping stones, y'know.

In addition to daydreaming about dying my hair, I also ravenously collect pictures of awesome pink hair. (And other fabulous colors.) I have an entire file on my computer devoted to all the nifty photos I've found, and today I decided to pluck out a few and make a digital inspiration board. (The first of many boards to come, as this is like an eighth of my entire collection.) I'm kind of a dummy in that I don't keep track of each photo's source when I save it...but chances are, most of these came from Google searches, Fuck Yeah Pink or Sex Hair. No copyright infringement is intended. If anyone stumbles upon this post and sees a photo that belongs to you, LET ME KNOW and I will either remove your photo or credit you!

Alright, enough lollygagging. ONTO PRETTY PINK GOODNESS.

Wow.

Family.....I don't even know. My parents think they understand what's going on with me and how to deal with it, and they don't. Just the opposite, in fact. So I need to find the courage to break through my ridiculous shame complexes and ask others for help, like my siblings and close friends. I wish I could elaborate a little more on what has been going on this week, but it doesn't feel right. I think a movie night involving black label Johnnie Walker and/or cupcakes may be in order when I get back to Mesa. Or maybe Johnnie Walker cupcakes. Do they make those?

Luke: Didn't that Tolstoy guy say something about families?
Lorelai: Probably.
Luke: It was some famous thing he said, something like 'All families are unhappy,' or happy on the surface, or unhappy in the same way.
Lorelai: Sounds a little incomplete.
Luke: Well, maybe he couldn't finish the thought because he was too busy dealing with his stinking family!
Lorelai: Do the Hallmark people know about you? Because you're a natural.
--Gilmore Girls #4.12: "A Family Matter"

Stalemate

I am so damned exhausted right now, physically and mentally, that I can only give headlines about this ridiculous week:

• The sleep study was a disaster. Mostly because...I couldn't fucking sleep. And I'm pretty sure it was 99% my fault. The other 1% having to do with the five million wires stuck to my face, neck, chest, legs, and fingers. Basically, it was an epic FAIL. Waste of my time, the clinic's time, and my parents' money. It'll take a week or so to get the results, but I doubt they gleaned anything from my 30 minutes of being half-asleep and 5 1/2 hours of trying in vain to fall asleep for real. (And I also hate the word "glean." The fact that I willingly used it in a sentence should say something about how sour I feel about all this.)
• I thought that making and accepting the decision to be hospitalized was going to be the difficult part. It's not. It turns out that the process of trying to find the right facility and be admitted has been the most frustrating, exhausting, and ridiculously taxing experience of my life. Mostly because my parents and I can't get on the same page about anything. And stupid family problems that we've been dealing with for years have decided to rear their ugly heads at the WORST possible time. I wish I could get into the specifics, but it really wouldn't be appropriate to blog that openly about these family issues. Basically, I feel like we're at a stalemate. Nothing is getting done. And I'm so frustrated that I feel like tearing my hear out.
• I just want to sleep. All the time.
• The ONE positive thing about this week is that my hair has finally decided not to be greasy and disgusting anymore. At least for the time being. I don't know what the deal was, but I'm glad that I don't look like a ragamuffin anymore.

Ugh, never again.
(Except I probably will have to get another stupid sleep study done soon. Especially if they suspect narcolepsy.) (Echhhhdlskgjaglkjmads.)

Zzzzz....

I'm at the Valley Sleep Clinic waiting to get all wired up for my sleep study. I really, really, really hope they find SOMETHING. Because this is so damned frustrating. After awhile, getting so many inconclusive test results honestly makes me feel like this might all be in my head. I want whatever this is to GET OUT OF MY BODY OR KILL ME. I'm so exhausted.

Done (?)

I was just reading over some older LiveJournal entries from my first semester at the U of A. It made me realize just how much school and I aren't really working out. I think I need to be done with it for awhile, and do something else. Or just take more time off until I figure out an academic plan that I can realistically follow through with. But honestly, I think I need to give up on it for now. I adore my classmates so much, and wish I could finish this journey with them. But I can't. It's only making me miserable, and it's done nothing but make me miserable in the past. I think I'm done.

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."
--The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

But I still have to face the hours, don't I?

"I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself, 'So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more.' It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."
--The Hours