I've got crap to do, but as usual during a time of high stress and anxiety, I focus my energy into other things. Like this.

I've got a few more weeks of school, but this unfortunately (or fortunately?) is not my last semester. I could graduate next semester, but with the shitty economy and really not wanting to enter the real world yet, I'm going to graduate in May 2010. Which is just fine by me. There's so much peer pressure to graduate early/on time, but what the hell is the rush? College has been great. It took me awhile, but I've come to realize that Chico is my second home and I love it. I have nestled myself in its protective womb while still being able to experience so much. Sure there's been shitty times, but it really is my second home and I will be really sad to leave it. With my major, the only two options in California are the bay area or LA (bleh). I always wanted to live in a big city, but now something about being stuck in a 4-door coffin while waiting for the thousandth car in front of you to realize that they are in front of a wheel and not a bed is pure torture.

San Francisco is where I'd feel most comfortable living, but I'd have to sell my soul monthly to pay the rent. Oh yeah, the potential mass earthquake (think circa 1906) does not sound fun either. maybe the first few seconds. weee?

But I've got a year to think about all of this crap! hell, maybe I'll just move to Oregon.

For now I'm worrying about internships. Like a dumbass, I waited till the last minute this semester to search for internships in the bay area, LA and Portland. so far, nadda. You'd think people would want as much free help as possible in this economy. I really hate resumes. I think convincing employers that you are of worth is the hardest thing to do. You have to really think about what you're good at or if you've done anything at all to show you're good at what you do. But this comes to be hard when you haven't done much in terms of work the past two years. This is also incredibly difficult when have low self-esteem or just have no fucking clue what you're good at, because no one ever tells you.
So I've become a professional bullshitter. I will bullshit that I am a talented person. Bush did it. Paris Hilton is doing it. (har har) I can sure as hell fool these assholes.
Right?

All I talk about on here is insecurities. I must look like a douche.

It's stupid to complain about weight, but here I go. It's not really that the weight bothers me. It's the fact that I even have this conversation with people. It's so ridiculous, but then there's so many forces emphasizing this ridiculous idea. Sort of like the swine flu.

It's the fact that you can't find clothes that meld perfectly to your body because they were sewn by third world natives that are half our size and get less than half our normal minimum wage paycheck.
I've been telling myself that talking about it only makes it worse and would be anti-feminist of me. But fuck, I can't help that it bothers me. No one tells you that your body randomly explodes one day and your pre-teen body that is so praised by the media goes straight out the window. I feel like it's my fault for becoming a woman. Why the fuck should I feel that way? Trying on clothes makes me feel ashamed, watching tv makes me feel ashamed, even my parents make me feel ashamed. They've never intentionally said anything bad, but just assuming that I'm as small as I used to be and buying me things that small bites. I exercise three times a week and I'm of a healthy weight.  Telling my weight to anyone would make people laugh at me, but I've actually gained at least 20 pounds over the last two years. But then I think, well maybe I'm supposed to be this way. deal with it. And then I say fuck it and go eat a burger.

I hate that I feel this way. It really isn't cool of me. And I'm sorry if I offend anyone that has much harder struggles with weight than I do. I guess I just wanted to write this because others should know that so many women go through this crap, and it's just flat out stupid.


In other news, I might get a position at our school newspaper. maybe.

And Wild Oak has it's last show this Saturday. Chico Music Fest! thank the lord. It was fun the first week, but god I hate our instructor with such a passion. Everyone else is cool though.

Thinking about getting people gifts makes me realize how much I don't know them.

Is Sarah Silverman racist or am I just dumb? She does her bits in such cute/funny ways with her tiny little voice. aww shucks.

Dear Bettie Page: you were gorgeous. I'm sorry you turned into a crazy Christian...and then just went crazy. You were still cool. Rest in peace.

What the hell am I good at? Someone tell me, because I really don't know if any of its applicable to the work world. I want to stay in college's safe crib until I grow up and be a big girl that can eat her veggies and learn to balance her check book.

Why do I watch Entertainment television? So Oprah gained weight. Oh like that was a big surprise. Everyone fucking gains weight. Stop making a goddamn big deal about it. It's not a news story. It's life. For God's sake, she has a thyroid problem. How about covering the attacks in Mumbai, you douche bags. You goddamn journalism rejects.

My instructor looks like Mr. Spacely.

I really want to see Milk.

I've run out of things to say.

Put the kettle on. Time to finish off my finals.

Rosco aka "Rossy Mossy"
1994?-2007

The best dog in the world. 
A dog that had so much heart and so much strength till the very end.
You would be 94 in dog years, but you still had the spirit of a puppy.
We miss you so much. 
Your "human" big brown eyes that held so much empathy.
Your endless pooping/peeing. How the hell did you manage to poop on every single lawn on the block?!
Your bravery. You've been through a lot of accidents and most recently a fight with a dog twice your size to protect the other two dogs. You got through it, but it did take a toll on your old bones.
The way you could perfectly catch the smallest bit of food in your mouth. You could still do it in your later years.
The way you'd head lock Lola with your leg when she got annoying. That was hilarious.
How excited you got about walks. 
How you turned into a wimp on car rides. The dreaded V-E-T!
How you barked at people you knew were trouble and didn't bark at those that weren't.
Your trust in us. How you would ask permission to come inside instead of rushing in uninvited.
How you looked so elegant when you sat on the couch and would clean yourself. You looked like a little deer.
How you'd fight us for space on the recliner. It was crowded, but great on winter nights.

And finally, just your presence. All I've known is coming home to see your face, since I was 4 or 5. How you followed us around like a shadow or a guardian angel. When I go home Friday, it won't be the same. But I'll always remember you and always love you.