Goddammit

Are you really thinking of grad school again? Really? What are you running from, Emily? What makes you think things will be better if you go back to school? How will you afford it? How will you even get in?! Your old professor said they'd laugh at you and you're so afraid it's true, why would you ever try? Mom and Dad would think it's a joke and you're trying to convince everyone you're something you're not.


Just...just think it through. I know there's a manic streak running through your blood right now, but try to ride it out before you do anything drastic.

I miss using my Holga

I think it's time to go pick up some 120 film and head out into the unknown, or, as I like to call it, using my Holga.  I haven't used it successfully since October.

The only thing is, there is one place in Jacksonville that develops 120 film.  They're about 25 miles away and only open 9-5 Monday-Friday.  I work 8:30-5 Monday-Friday.  Balls.

I need to find somewhere online where I can send it until I move somewhere with an accommodating photo lab (such as the wonderful Bay Camera Co. on Habersham in Savannah--seriously the best camera people I've ever met).

So:

-film
-photo lab
-somewhere stimulating
-someone stimulating

I just don't get it

When I click "Next Blog," I always get Christians and mommies.  Does Blogger group this form of browsing by similar topics, or is it random?


Seriously, what the hell.

That picture has nothing to do with confusion, it's just what I feel like doing right now: falling asleep in my undies on my big bed.

[source]

I'm thinking at least a million by now

Waiting, waiting, waiting.  If I got paid by the hour to wait like I do to work, I'd be a millionaire by now.

My whole life I've waited for something better.  I never wanted to settle.  Wait for the better guy, the one you want.  Wait for that better job, you'll make more money.  Wait for the better computer, this one will be outdated in a month. Just wait.

This is all great in theory, but in practice I'm impulsive and physically cannot wait.  I dated guys who had no interest in anything but sex, and I'm hurt because I expected differently?  I took jobs as they came and had to leave the city I love because I no longer had money.  This computer was replaced with those shiny aluminum iMacs three weeks after I bought it.

And even now, I'm waiting.  I'm hoping for news on a job, and quietly socking away money and positivity until I hear.  I'm waiting on the boy every night--will he text me?  When will he have a weekend to get together?--and I go to bed sad and disappointed when he doesn't get in touch.  I wait for old friends to remember I exist, and new friends to discover me.

This is all very passive, and for someone who wants so much out of life, so much more than marriage and babies, it's a pretty shitty way of showing my strength.

Forgive yourself if you think you can...

...go to sleep, go to sleep a man

It's weird that things can change with one conversation.  That's all it takes sometimes.

I applied for about 4 more jobs tonight, all with seven locations within each job to take into consideration.  My name is out there, world.  Pick me, pick me!

I always wish someone would make me the subject of a painting like this

source

cut me some slack.

I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris.












It's been a rough day, so let me quote Sex and the City in peace and go to bed at 10:30.  Just let me.

...and just like that, it was over.

"Just so you know" and "by the way" are two of the harshest phrases in the English language.  They imply the conversee doesn't care enough to look at the details, he or she will overlook important events of the past, and that there is an overall lack of trust and honesty in the conversation/relationship.




This really sucks, and I don't know how else to describe it.  So there it is.

Off of More Adventurous

I've been listening to this song nonstop lately. Rilo Kiley becomes my favorite band this time of the year--The Execution of All Things is a fantastic album to listen to with the windows down, before the humidity seeps in--and I'm not sure if it's the lyrics or the violin that affects me more, but something sticks with me whenever I listen to it.


Unfortunately, YouTube doesn't have anything with the album version, just the live, so if you can hear the studio version I 
definitely recommend that.


Any ideas for a good road trip where I can take some pictures? I'm headed to Savannah in June and Tifton in a few weeks,
but I need some new material.

Oh and hey, while we're at it.

Remember when I used to write?  I do.  I haven't even opened my portfolio since July.  I wish I could still articulate thoughts and make valid points as I once could.  Hell, I wish I could even read my litmags without getting bored halfway through.  I still buy them, because I apparently love to spend money on shelf decorations, but I just admire the covers and never get around to reading and thinking.

I worked for four years--just as an undergrad, not counting all the high school prep work--to get a degree that would mean nothing to me.  If I could do it all over again I would.  In a heartbeat.  But I can't, can I?  It is gone forever, and I'm going to sit here and just accept it.  There's nothing left to do but move on.

I used to be attracted to intellectual men.  I still like the look: glasses, sweater with a button-up underneath, slim jeans or chinos, and a beard to top it off.  That look is everywhere today, luckily for me and my hormones.  But after dating some of these smarties, I've realized they're all kinda assholes.  Sure, they're great as friends.  I love to be an asshole around my English friends because we can all laugh it off.  But I'm not sleeping with them.  I don't have to listen to them wax poetic after they hit the pillow still in that orgasmic state and I'm not only unsatisfied but I'm growing more pissed off by the moment.  But I've dated a few dummies too, including one who had his own initial tattooed on his back (I'm guessing for identification purposes?).  The sad thing is, I've finally met a man who is smart without being condescending, wants me to be happy and fulfilled both with and without him, and who can hold his own in wit and charm, and yet, he's too far away and married to his job.  I stick with him because I'm afraid no one better will ever come along.  It's been almost six months and there's been nothing physical (no time) and we're limited to high-energy, high-libido conversations (why bother with anything else).  If I had met someone else who met both of these qualities in the past six months, I would have told him goodbye and moved on.

But I haven't.  And that's what bothers me.  I am twenty-two and completely incapable of meeting people.

Maybe this is the source of my English-related emptiness.  No one wants to hear about a sexually frustrated twentysomething who can't seem to get it together long enough for even a kiss and a grope.  Last year at this time there were more men and more emotions.  I can't fake that stuff, and I can't make up men to fill that void, as much as I would love to.  I ache for new scenery just to make new friends and have those possibilities open to me again.  For right now, I am stuck in this environmental purgatory, neither good nor bad, just white noise to my life until stimulation comes along.  I am so antsy and on edge because I don't like it.  I am far too manic for limbo, and my life refuses to move as fast as I desire.

Also, I go to bed early now because there's no reason to stay up.  That's the definition of adulthood.  When I was young, I would stay up until 4 talking to Andrew and think it was the most fun in the world.  The last time I saw 4 am was when I had a stomach virus last January.

Today's hope is for a new home.

where we are

i envy those
who live in two places:
new york, say, and london;
wales and spain;
l.a. and paris;
hawaii and switzerland.

there is always the anticipation
of the change, the chance that what is wrong
is the result of where you are. i have
always loved both the freshness of
arriving and the relief of leaving. with
two homes every move would be a homecoming.
i am not even considering the weather, hot
or cold, dry or wet: i am talking about hope.

all photos were taken by me over the last six years.

The Obligatory Hello.

Because I deleted my old Google account (because it had been hacked) (because I hadn't used it in six months), here I am.  A fresh blog, one that is unknown to many old followers whom I didn't want there anyway.

I think first entries are always odd, no matter the blog's intentions.  So I'm going to make this one short and sweet:

There will be more posts.  There will be less censorship.  It's titled "hope." because I am the worst title-er ever, despite holding an English degree, and because that word defines my life.  I am nothing if I am not hoping.  Whether or not those dreams and wishes and plans all come through is another story completely, but I am always wanting more.

Can we move on to the second post now?