ImmanerdImmanerdImmanerdImmanerd.

I want a new blog. But idk if it should be on wordpress or blogspot.
immanerdimmanerdimmanerdimmmmmmmmmaaaaannnnerrrrddddd........

Out With the Old, In With the New.

I need some sort of change. So I'm finally giving in and getting myself a tumblr and/or wordpress. I previously believed it was unnecessary [it so totally was] but I'm tired of blogspot, so away I go. Not that anyone really gives a shit. :D

Not Sure What I'm Unsure About.

I feel what I can only describe as "off" lately. Or as Facebook would say "one of those moods where you dont know whats wrong".
And when you don't know what's wrong, you don't know how or where to begin to find a solution. It's a fucking stress within itself when you don't know why you're upset or why you're down, or why you're feeling down, angry, sad, or just plain...bad? So our minds are wired to deal with this stress in some way. Like, for example, I daydream.
It usually starts with me in a bookstore in New York drinking hot chocolate. I'm 'reading' a book, although...I'm not. Usually when I go to a bookstore, I'm lucky to find a book to really focus my attention on. If I do: I'm sitting down wherever I'm at and reading my ass off. If not: I grab a book, a chair and pretend to read. What I'm really doing is taking in the smell of coffee, the tranquil music and the overall appeal of the bookstore. It's mind easing for me; this is what I day dream about when my mind just seems blank.
Other times, when I don't feel like doing work or I don't understand some sort of math problem and my brain partially shuts down, I find myself somewhere in Europe. I'm looking at the buildings, the architecture, getting lost and trying to get directions from a person speaking a different language only to have them scam me out of tons of money [haha, it's funny---only not really].
Ah. Same old, same old. That or I day dream about having an awesome adventure worthy of becoming a movie...
Point is, I'm avoiding trying to figure out my problem. Not really putting much effort into it. I mean: I'm not upset...but I'm not happy either. I'm not necessarily in a rut...but not really living an exciting life. [Like. Ever. But that's beside the point.]
I'm more or less just "floatin' around in the air all accidental-like".
Oh, to float around all accidental-like. I love Forrest Gump.
And then I think about art school. I'm note sure how describe my feelings towards it except that I'm very anxious about it. I'm not entirely sure what to expect, nor who I will meet, nor if it will meet my expectations. Will it be just like high school? Will it be nicer? Will I finally be in my "element"?
"OMG ARE YOU READY? I'M TOTALLY READY. I CAN'T WAIT. AHHH. ARRTTTT SCHOOOLLLL." I say it, but I don't fully mean it.
Gosh. I'm pretty confused and my mind isn't functioning as clearly as I'd like it to.
I mean, I still haven't even figured out what the problem is. Wasn't this blog supposed to help me out with that????
Uh, yes. Yes it was.

Was I Anorexic?

I stared at my Pepsi bottle wondering why I wasn't drinking it. It was just sitting there beside me, losing it's fizzyness. I should probably drink it before it was lost, right? So I did. I drank it until the last drop. Thing is, it wasn't like I was thirsty. I just wanted the satisfaction of the cold, crisp feeling before it became warm and flat. And that was when I noticed that I'd never done this before. Drunk it at once, I mean.
Before, I always waited until I really craved to drink it. Like, I had to be really thirsty to take a swig.
Maybe this seems meaningless to you, but it is a discovery of great significance to me. You see, I now realize that I used to do this a lot with anything I ate or drank. It used to be that I would just tell myself that I didn't feel hungry...I thought I didn't. It wasn't until my stomach began making loud whiny noises that I bothered to get up from the couch in search of something to eat. That's the key word: Bothered.
Could I really have been anorexic without meaning to be?
I always told myself I wasn't. I always told myself that I couldn't be. Didn't Anorexic mean that a person didn't eat on purpose? That they had a disorder that had something to do with their esteem?
I looked it up on Dictionary.com. Anorexia and Anorexia Nervosa are actually two different things:
Anorexia is described as a loss of appetite.
Anorexia Nervosa is described as

an eating disorder primarily affecting adolescent girls and young women,
characterized by pathological fear of becoming fat, distorted body image,
excessive dieting, and emaciation.

I'm pretty damn sure that I didn't have a fear of becoming fat. I always considered myself under weight and too skinny for my own good. I was probably obsessed with trying to become thicker and fuller. I just didn't eat. I wasn't hungry. Or at least, I couldn't identify hunger until I thought I could feel my stomach begin to eat itself.
Perhaps it's a side effect of having grown up without meals. Without SET meals, I mean. I only ate breakfast every morning until the age or seven or eight. Then there just wasn't enough time from the moment I woke up, got dressed and ran out the door to catch the bus. AND THEN, I just got lazy. Lunch was the only thing I'd eat on the hour. Cause of school. After school I'd return home, Mom would be gone to work, Dad wouldn't come home till eight or nine and my sister and I were left to look for junk food and scraps in the pantry. It's just how it was.
This is probably why I can't eat meals. Probably why I'm the slowest eater when I go out to eat with friends. My stomach isn't used to sitting down and getting plate after plate stuffed down. It's used to periodically eating small portions EVERY HOUR or EVERY DAY [not counting sleep, of course]. Hence why people are under the impression that I eat a lot. Pffffft! I don't eat a lot. I just eat portions. They add up to meals by the end of the day. I hope...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Oh, dear.
Lot's of thinking and still no real answer. So....Was I or wasn't I?
An even scarier question: am I?
I hope not. I'm trying to eat more. I'm not trying to force myself to eat, because there are still plenty of times where I just don't. feel. hungry. But I'm taking baby steps. And I hope that works out well for me. I can't go on with a stomach unaccustomed to meals. That's just ridiculous.

I'm Going To Be Bitchy For A Moment.

You: What sense is there in bringing that up? Is it just to argue with me?
Really? Because I didn't react the same way you did? Nice. You know what you
sound like in my head? Her. Yeah, her. The chick that
speaks as if she's always in need of confronting someone so she brings up petty
and ridiculous arguments.
You: Leave me alone. Please. I think you're a nice
person.
You: As are you. Just...let me breathe.
You: And you. Same thing
^^^.
You: I can't even be angry with you. I have no reason to be. It's
just bitterness I'm feeling, I guess.
You: Ugh. Shut up. When will you stop
talking? MUST you have every one's attention 24/7??? Pllllleasseeeeeeee take a
slight breather.
You: So, I know it's none of my business but: stoppit, you
dumb ass. You look so ridiculous doing that; I hope you know it. You're a
disgrace to our gender. "Man-up", will you?
And these are just random
thoughts surging through my mind:
-God, you're so annoying. I don't care, I
don't care, I don't care.
-Stop commenting on every single thing I say or
write. Please.
-WHEN will you grow up?
-You annoy me because I have the
feeling that you have just one implanted image of me. Like, I can totally see
it. Don't. Fucking. Label. Me. You're just dismissing me then. Fuck that.
-You will never understand. Try and try as I might. You will never
understand a god damn thing I will ever say.
-What the FUCK is wrong with my
phone????!?
- You're a mother fucking asshole.
- Haha, I
am going to hell? Really now? See you down there, buddy: See. You. There.
-
You're conceited. You're a prick. You're a dumb ass. 'Nuff said.
- And
you...where do you get off making people feel like shit? Is it fun? Is it
exciting? Does someone have unresolved issues to solve?? It's okay. Start drugs.
Enjoy yourself. Die.
-----------------No, totally kidding.
Don't die. I'd cry...but. Get hurt. Not too bad, but bad enough.
Yeah. I'm
evil. I'm bad ass.

.
.
.
.
.
I've never been an angry person. I don't really understand why I'm so angry right now. I have no reason to be...despite the whole normal feelings of being under appreciated, underestimated, unsatisfied, and stalked by UNwanted people. Many UNs.

Perhaps I am bitchy and stuck up. The whole
shy and awkwardness thing might just be an excuse.

But, I mean, is it?
Maybe I am bitchy and stuck up BECAUSE I tend to by a shy, dependent and passive person. Very introverted. Which is not a great mixture. And maybe people underestimate me because of this----no, not maybe. Definitely.
Well, I believe the truth lies within perception. The thing is, I often wonder whose. Mine? Pfft. My perception barely exists. It hangs on rusty, old, and small hinges because it couldn't take on the weight of the many things that the world throws at you to understand. It's just...how I perceive things cannot go without being greatly influenced...by everything. Therefore, instead of going into one straight direction, one straight decision, I stand in the middle of the street [metaphorically, of course]; cars beeping, people yelling swear words at me. And I'm just there. Dazed. Confused. Not really afraid. Just wary.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT?"
"GET OFF THE ROAD!"
And I pretty much stand there, like a deer in headlights.
This is what life is for me. I can't make the most simple decisions. I can't even focus on the problem at hand. My perception of things seems to be warped. How can I make simple decisions if I can't even apprehend what it is that I'm supposed to understand?
Meh. I think too much. That's the problem. I think too much about such abstract things that I often miss the most concrete. I look at the small puzzle pieces far too much to be able to see the big picture.
I shouldn't do such things.
Aren't I supposed to do things upon impulse at this age? Why must I always over think everything? Why?
Hence, my feeling unappreciated or underestimated. I think----I know I have much to offer to this vicious world of ours. I know because of the way I think, the way I talk, the way I act around certain people. I know I have some sort of understanding of my current life. I'm just not sure what to do with it.
.
.
.
And I'm over thinking things again. BLAHHH. Bottom line [and now seemingly RANDOM]:
I believe I will shoot myself in the head if my year ends and I feel under appreciated.

Shy and Awkward Because....?

I consider myself as already, really, naturally boring.

So, it doesn't help to feel as if I am reverting to my old ways. Which I am. And I don't want to do this...If I revert to how I used to be, I become the quiet or awkward kid in the back of class staring at everyone. Some will mistake me as mentally ill...or just stuck up. I can not tell you how much I've been taken as a stuck up bitch.
I feel the need to clarify:

I am an awkward, shy and terribly insecure kid. I'm sorry I don't know how to respond to you. That is why I don't. I rather not make a really stupid remark and have you laugh at me instead of with me, thanks.

I just don't want to end my year this way, though. And it seems to be heading that way.
I don't know why. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I was doing fine. I was happy, I was content, I was [still am] ready for college and just gliding through the school year...
What happened? Why, all of a sudden, have I digressed? [So to speak.]
I think it might have something to do with the image that I imagine people see of me. I can't deny that it's been bothering me lately. Like, I know that it's mostly in my head....but then again, I know that it's not.
It's not because it's something I've struggled with all my life:
People taking me seriously.
It's true, I'm usually never serious. And I mean ever. But I do believe that I am never serious due to the lack of being taken serious my whole life. It really messes up your self esteem growing up....ESPECIALLY when you have a mother like mine: A cute, short, Asian-looking mother who laughs at everything.
No, she never laughed with me growing up. She always just laughed AT me. A trait that annoys me till no end with her-----yes, she still does this.
A kid can't grow up healthy when a parent, instead of laughing encouragingly, laughs to ridicule the kid. Maybe the parent doesn't mean to do this, but trust me when I say that little kid's don't like to be seen as stupid as much as older people.
How can they be expected to have confidence in themselves, otherwise?

And the Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree...

I have, what you'd call, "A Cute Mom." Just by her way of speaking butchered English with sheer dedication to do so, I can understand why she'd be considered as one. She's shorter than me and definitely more humble, she has the ability to be very prompt and anal [definition: precise, ready, organized etc.] and doesn't really back down from a challenge...
But she's still nuts.
Cuckoo.
Crazy.
One screw loose in the head.
I love her, I really do. I love her life story, I love her dedication to get things done and her sweet and sometimes VERY annoying tendency to want to tell me everything about herself.
But I can't help but notice that my mom is a little...strange.
I blame it on her lack of childhood.
She had none.
At eight she started working in a chocolate factory, mixing the ingredients, helping her mother by selling flowers in the stands at the market, and selling plants and herbs shouting out things like "You want love? You want magic? You want a quick cure for ugly? Get this plant! It will help you with all you desire! Only fifty cents!"
Haha, I always laugh when she tells me how she would make up complete bullshit to try and sell simple weeds...and it also makes me sad. I picture my mother in her childhood: small, very young looking [at least younger than her actual age], dark, skinny, always trying to earn a living even though she was just a kid.
Let me help you out with the picture of how my mom grew up: you know those commercials where a spokesperson walks with a child in hand, the setting behind them being a neighborhood made out of dirt? You know the one. Where the spokesperson tells you about how hard the child has to work and what the living conditions are, how they will take anything they can get and how we should please, please, please call and donate at least a dollar which will help feed a family of four? Yeah, picture that as my mom's whole life. Only, instead of just one sibling, my mother grew up with seven.
I think she has a reason to be a little nuts.
She has tendencies to act like a child sometimes, especially when she's happy. I'll be sitting in the living room and she comes out skipping merrily like a little girl.
"Mom?" I will ask, a little confused but not at all surprised. "What are you doing?"
"Skipping," she will answer, flatly.
"Oh." And I return my attention back to what I am doing.
Other times, the house will be quiet, and I mean completely quiet, and the only sounds are coming from the fan over the stove as she cooks when suddenly my mom starts singing a song. It's terribly out of tune and at the top of her lungs, but I know she does this on purpose. She laughs at my near heart attack and continues to sing. Yes, she truly has her moments.
I'm pretty sure that's where I get my random burst of craziness. I'm sure that's why I'm a little insane as well. I'm sure that's why I love being how I am and why I love my mother so much.
The apple really doesn't fall too far from the tree.
Yup.
Anyway. Twas just a thought.

I'm A Senior?

"Can you believe we're seniors?" Uh. No. I can't, to be absolutely honest. I can't get past the idea that I'm about to leave a routine that has been instilled in me since age four or five. It's all too strange to think that I'll be going to 'college' soon and that the big 1-8 isn't too far away. I mean, I'll be fucking legal!
"Man, I can't wait to get out of school."
"I know, right?" I say, like I'm totally agreeing with that. Truth is, I kind of am, but kind of not. I don't really know if I want to leave school. Or at least the security of it.
Once we graduate, it's all up to us. And our parents. I'll soon have to get a job---I've never had one before, I'm ashamed to admit--- and I'll have to pay taxes and recieve bills and have to deal with all this number business. Just thinking about the numbers scares me. The complexity, or perhaps the meaning of numbers totally freak me out. The meaning being that everything should add up right. Numbers, are numbers, a square is a box with all even sides...they all add up correctly.
But for me, things never turn out as they should. I always mess up, I always get confused and so I'm left in the dust. My numbers never add up as they should.
]But, ahh, that's just how it's been for me. Confusing sums that don't make sense. Confusing conclusions about life that seem completely irrelevent to what the problem was at hand. I guess I'll take things in stride. And get used to that.
Wait.
What am I talking about? I take everything in stride.
Always.
Sigh.
The curse of a procrastinator, it seems.