damn it.

My best friend just "stood me up". It wasn't a date, or anything, but that's the only phrase I could think of in this situation.

Needless to say, I'm infuriated. I put aside a perfectly decent Friday afternoon to spend with her, and she just BLEW it off. You're probably wondering why I put that in all caps... Well, it's because I strongly suspect she is off covorting avec le boyfriend; hence the reference. Which is incredibly bitchy of me, but I couldn't care less right now. Okay, yeah I do care, but I figure that she'll never read this, so what she can't read can't harm her.

I really really hope she's in a coma or something, or has an equally legitimate excuse.

ridiculous things.

After watching about half of the second season of Project Runway, and watching my darling and dear love of my life, Daniel Vosovic, lose to Chloe Dao, I sat down and wrote a song. And was promptly ashamed to be wasting paper on fashion—because I can’t dress to save my life.

I have always been puzzled by my complete and utter fascination with fashion, partly because I dress like a drunken mixture of a ho-bag and a bag lady. I have never matched, and I’ve always been too poor to dress like I mean it. The extent of my fashionableness is Target. I own two pieces of clothing by “high fashion” designers: a pair of capri jeans by Michael Kors (which are the love of my life), and a green chain mail like shirt by BCBG Max Azria… which has a hole in the fucking sleeve.

Anyhow, I will admit that I try. I really do. But my parents can’t afford to dress me well all the time—so I have a handful of shirts and one pair of jeans that are nice, and I wear those as much as I can, and when they’re in the wash, I look like white trash. Which is fine, I’ve accepted that.

But it makes it that much harder to watch something like Project Runway, and think “what would I kill to get to design clothing, for a living?” And then I always start looking back into applying to places like Parsons, or FIDM, and I get so excited again. And then I look down and remember that there is no way I would ever fit in at a place like that. And I could never afford to go there. Which is even worse, because it means that that road is closed to me. That opportunity isn't even there, because I'd have to sell my soul to the devil in order to go to a private art school. And they say America is the "land of opportunity".

And I'm even one of the lucky ones. My parents can afford to send me to community college. And so many parents can't even afford to do that for their kids. Fucking land of opportunity, my ass.

And I have pride, which is the worst thing of all. How could I have pride when I have nothing? I don’t understand myself. But I have a hard time shopping in thrift stores. Although, I think I’m going to have to start doing it more often, if I ever want to dig myself out of my fashion rut.

And I wonder if I’m just being ridiculously shallow and horrible. Because there are children starving in Africa. And while I may not dress to impress, I eat every day. I have clothing on my back. I have running water and a television to remind me of what I don’t have. And I remember what I do have, and I’m grateful. And I wish to god that I didn’t live in a western country, where I have to look to find suffering. Hell would be nice compared to earth, I think.

Strange how watching a couple hours of television can bring me to tears and frustration at myself, and at the world.

I’m thinking too much.

hard to be heartbroken

I hate myself.

I saw him today, that boy. The beautiful one with the pale white eyelashes that make me melt into a puddle, the one who I've thought was beautiful since I first met him in eighth grade, the one who I hooked up with on Saturday--

did not even recognise me today when I saw him in the hall.

And I feel stupid for allowing myself to be touched (literally and metaphorically) by him. and I feel so stupid for letting his icy blue eyes get to my heart, so much so that I haven't thought of anything other than him for a while now.

which is so stupid. He's a year younger than me, is a pot head, and probably isn't a nice guy. not only that, but he's only interested in me when he's stoned, and when I'm likely to put out.

MEN!

no pants dance

So, I went to a No Pants Dance on Saturday night, and even though we didn't stay out all that late, it was awesome. It was in this guy in my art class's garage, and there were so many people there. He played mostly euro-trance and there was a strobe light going, which makes everyone look beautiful, and it was so trippy. It was so hot that the walls were sweating, and I soaked through my bra and underwear within five minutes. I danced with this one guy, and even made out with him for a second before realising that I knew him, and that he was my boss's half brother. Whoops.

Otherwise, good times... We plan on attending the next one. The only upsetting part was that the Obscure Object brought his girlfriend, who really wasn't all that cute, and he was showing her off like she was something to be envied. But I wouldn't tap that, personally. She was blonde and sort of stupid looking, and that's all I have to say on the matter.

I forgot to mention, I turned seventeen on Friday. Pretty exciting. I'm now able to go watch NC-17 movies and R rated films. That much closer to independence and age of consent.

Raphaël

One of my favourite musicians, Raphaël, is coming to Los Angeles. And I can't go see him. Needless to say, I'm really really disappointed. But since I'm getting to see Snow Patrol later this summer, I really shouldn't complain copiously... But he is so amazing. And I really am disappointed about missing out on his concert...



But I got to see Mickey Avalon live last weekend, and I think Raphaël will live longer than Mickey, so I guess you have to pick and chose your battles. And Mickey was amazing... I almost died when I got to touch his arm.

In personal news, the Sex God fades in and out of my life with alarming speed. He was demanding the lyrics to my latest song last week, and completely forgot hours later. It was amusing. I think drugs were involved.

No need to worry

I don't have to worry about pardoning him for further crimes.

He has a girlfriend. And he was just asking me for advice on how to spend time with other girls, emphatically not me, without hurting her feelings.

You know what he said? You know what he said?

"You waited too long, now you'll have to find someone else."

To which I replied, "Awh, fuck you." And promptly signed out of AIM without the intention of ever emailing, speaking, or acknowledging his presence ever again.

Obscure Object: did i offend you?

Angy: I don't know if I should answer you. You'll just get offended right back.

Obscure Object: i wouldn't. or at least i wouldn't hold it against you. ps. i'm sorry if talking about all of this was inappropriate

Angy: No, it was completely appropriate. It's sort of been festering since November, hasn't it? I just wrote a long whole rant about how I don't understand you, and how liking you has been a waste of time, etc. etc. But I just deleted it. Because you don't need to know. I'm done divulging anything-- I've already divulged enough.

Besides, I don't think you care.

Obscure Object: I'm really sorry. i honestly don't know what i was thinking. but you're a friend. a good one at that. and i really hope that we can maintain a good friendship. you're someone who i can talk to. i look forward to these conversations.

Angy: I look forward to them too. But for different reasons. And that's why I think I need to spend some time away from you.

I'm not some stupid lovelorn girl who is going to pine after you because I've been rejected. After I have successfully mended my feelings, I'll get ahold of you.

(a few minutes later)

Angy: Fuck it. You make me laugh, and you're an interesting conversation holder. I really really like our conversations, and I'd rather be unhappy for two minutes, than miss talking to you in a week. Truce?

After which, I got back on AIM and we mended bridges.

In a way, this is a very good thing for me. I won't be living some little sob story now, I won't be mislead by his every smile in my direction.

I told him so much today. About me. Things that I haven't even told my best friends. And he accepted it. I'm sure it changed his perception of me, perhaps to the worse, but he listened. And that means more to me than any kisses, or any words of endearment.

Endings are sad, but necessary, I think. I'll never stop loving him, in my own way, but now I can stop wishing for something I should have known would never happen, not in my wildest dreams. And I can go back to liking mediocre boys with little talent or brains, and settle for less than ideal. Going back to the staid old men of my life shall be boring, but it was nice to have him as a dream for a while.

Regardless, we've forged something more than friendship. Not romantic, that has been stressed so far. But to know so much about each others feelings, and our respect for each other?

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Can't you see?

He said to me, "Can't you see?" when I asked him to read me something off the board. My eyesight is too poor to see that far, and I wanted to explain to him that I was practically blind... but suddenly it seemed like words were far too much to explain how I felt, what I wanted, and it was suddenly much more than a homework assignment on the whiteboard.

So, instead of giving him a coy, convoluted answer like I would any other day of the week, I just looked him in the eye and said "No."

And it was the truth; I can't see a lot of things. I can't see how madly obsessed I've been, how I've excused his behaviour.

This last weekend he did something again, something horrible. I can't even say it. Needless to say, he's broken my trust. It's not like I can even mention it to him now, because it's none of my business.

But in a way, it is my business. Only because I've defended him at every turn, and I can't any longer. I cannot stick up for him after this, not after this. And I wasn't directly involved, so I cannot approach him and tell him what he's done wrong. I want to send him an email saying "Look what you've done! Look!" and hope that he does. But I can't, and I won't.

Now, I am turning the phrase around.

"Can't you see me?"

I want to pose this question to him, pose this question to him. Can't you see me? I don't think he can. He says he respects me, and that he is flattered that I love him. But he cannot see me, no more than I can truly see beyond his beauty. I am blinded by my love for him, and I cannot see his true self.

And it is horrible to admit that I no longer trust him, respect him, or even wish to be his one and only, but I still love him more than any other person I have ever loved.

And I cannot go on much longer being willfully blind.