this has been the weirdest / unsettling start to the new year. will the shittiness that is 2014 last? lets hope not.
I am not interested in anyone. the people interested in me I cannot even fathom spending time with besides using them for free beer. and not that liking someone is critical to my happiness but I like the thrill of meeting new people and becoming excited to see someone, and I haven’t felt that way in months and it would be nice to get that pang in my stomach again
every other day I look up library job postings in dc, nyc, chicago, and la. every single time this happens I realize how utterly unqualified I am for any of these positions, and this feeling is reiterated every time I interact with my classmates. I feel like they are all on the same wave length and i’m just missing it and have no fucking idea how to get on it. My current saving grace is my weekly volunteering position so there’s that but it does nothing to soften the heightening anxiety for “you will never be a good librarian”
I was fired. for an absolutely ridiculous reason called “sticking up for yourself and calling the managers out on their hypocrisy.” and yeah, I don’t regret doing it but everyone applauding me for getting fired is kind of shitty. easy for you to say…. you still have a fucking job. and I sit here, rewriting cover letter after cover letter, trying to decide if I should stay in the service industry or give up library school and find some entry level sales or marketing position, and no one gives a shit. I assume that partially has to do with my fiscal relationship with my parents, which is fine but also vastly misunderstood by all of my peers. It is terrifying to go from making a lot of money every week, cash in your hand, to absolutely nothing with no idea when your next paycheck will arrive. nothing. Literally, what I currently have in my wallet is all I have. sure, everyone hates their job, but you clearly don’t hate it enough to quit because you obviously don’t want to be in my position. be grateful for your jobs people, because I wish I had one.
I make excuses. I’m impulsive - I got fired. I have wanderlust - do I really need a graduate degree. I’m depressed - stay in bed all day. Hey guess what Kendall, get the fuck over yourself because everyone else already has.
Mike is married. Whatever.
Actually am realizing all guys named Mike are douchelords.
the heat in my apartment doesn’t work. I don’t mean that dramatically. I mean that in a “my heat stays on for three minutes and shuts off for 20 and the whole process repeats itself again” sort of way which means my nipples are always hard but my diet coke is always cold. glass half full people.
I am failing at getting an ARC of we were liars. I need it so desperately I want to cry.
I’ve been watching the first seasons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians and they wear horrible outfits and exercise with their hair completely done and combine jeans and heels which is my biggest fashion pet peeve ever. However, coming from someone who has never watched this show and doesn’t really care about the kardashians because they’re not on my radar, I do really like Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe’s relationship. I think it’s sweet but I also think they are kind of psychotic but they are psychotic with each others best interests at heart and I think that’s pretty cool. But I hate giant hoop earrings. So there’s that.
So yesterday my psychologist referred to me as a functioning depressed person, which I assume is similar to a functioning alcoholic. Which is great, I don’t know. Usually schoolwork gets the biggest hit when I get depressed but I’ve been doing really well this semester. I’m proud of myself because I have been spacing out my work and doing it correctly and on time and not fucking shit up. I’d like to say it’s because I am in a better place than I was in the fall or over the past two years, but it’s not that at all. I don’t know. I was talking to Clare about hating not knowing if I am actually depressed or if this is bipolar induced depression which is even worse and Clare just said “depression is depression is depression, don’t think of it as less of an emotion because of how it is labeled.” And I really liked that.
Why did Rob Kardashian and Adrienne Bailon break up I love her??
last night I went over to the guy I have been hooking up with for the past six months’ apt, apparently he double-booked and I arrived as he was ushering another woman out the door of his apartment complex. I walked in, looked at the two of them and he just goes “oh god this is so awkward,” introduces me to his so-called wife, explains that he has a “country” house and a “city” house, and then she looks at me and goes “you’ve been upstairs?” err yes. she turns to him and goes “have you been texting her this entire night?” and he says no… with me standing right there… “uh yeah he has, I’m going to go now” his parting words: I’ll call you tomorrow!
fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
what’s even better is that those weren’t his parting words oh no then he texts me an hour later asking me to come over because he is “horny” and “I’m not actually married”
so you just made a joke of me in front of the other girl you’ve been hooking up with. okay. so much makes sense. thank you. love the clarification. I feel really great now.
I want to ruin him. I’m not sad, I’m lethally angry. I wish I could make him feel as stupid as I feel right now. I wish I could kill him with words but he’s too thickheaded that none of it would effect him at all. I want to yell at him or text him angry things but he’s such an asshole that it literally won’t do anything to him. he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care about me. he doesn’t care about being a good person. I fucking hate him and I hate him for making me feel so small.
boy #2 @ 9:30pm: “hey, haven’t talked to you in awhile. what have you been doing?”
boy #3 @ 10:45pm: “happy new year kg. what are you wearing?” (straight and to the point, I appreciate it)
so if someone could please explain why these dudes have been nonexistent for the past couple months and then, on the same day, all decide strike up a conversation that I have no desire to partake in?! sorry boys I’ve grown up and am not falling for your sales pitch expressions of love. I am over you over you OVER YOU BYE
(besides #3 because lets be honest, I’ve been in love with him last fall —- and a laugh that makes you want to be funny just so you can hear it again oh fuck.)
it is 7:12 am on wednesday morning. I have been up since yesterday. closed last night at work and got home around 2:30 am which is pretty nice and then clearly I decided to go through all of my syllabi and write all my assignments in my planner and then just curl up under my covers and not sleep. what the fuck is that about.
I miss Athens and OU so much. I look back on it and want to go back, and I worry that I will do that in a few years when I look back on Boston and that makes me so sad but I have no idea what to do differently so I can look back and feel fine. I think that when I move to Chicago it will be like that, similar to Athens, just because so many of my friends will be in one concentrated area and that makes me feel calm. It’s like, I look back on OU and think that I could have tried harder but then I think that is something that I only know because I’ve grown up - that I was good enough for OU, that I was smart enough, that now I have the confidence that I really really really needed while at school - and as for now, in Boston, I’m not sure there is anything else I can be doing, and maybe that’s more validated than me at OU.
I have to be at work at 10:45 and won’t be done until 5:45. so sleeping would be preferable. I am assuming it’s the lithium and strattera and wellbutrin keeping me up. cocktail wooh. I hate taking them - now I’ve started psyching myself up about swallowing pills which should really be the least of my worries - but I get so depressed when I am not on them. I mean dangerously depressed, dark and sad and gone from normality. so I have to take them. and then the moodiness - what part of that is from being bipolar and what is from diabetes? tell me please. a lot of people disappointed me this past weekend and I was pretty morose while at work and a few people asked me if I was okay and it made me feel nice, that people weren’t tossing my feelings aside as a “bipolar thing” as they are often wont to do at PC, unfortunately. but I guess it ends there because it wasn’t as if I was comfortable enough with anyone to explain why I was sad, all I could do was smile and say “yeah I’m fine.” which I am, I guess comparatively speaking to when I’m been reaaaal bad, but I’m not fine, I think.
currently reading through my old posts and laughing about dec 2012 me talking about how moody I am and what’s going on with that, and then a month later getting diagnosed with bipolar disorder. womp womp womp. hashtag take yo lithium girl.
sometimes I try to remember who I was before I felt I should change to appease the many people in Boston who think I should because I’m “different” and now I can’t remember who that person was. which I don’t think is a good thing. rather I think it’s kind of upsetting and I’m a bit disappointed in myself.
so one of my closest friends is really into skincare and hopes to eventually begin her own clean skincare company (cool!). as someone who is obsessed with skincare, haircare, makeup, basically anything that you can smear on your body, she and I are clearly BFF. becoming friends with dana meant that I have all this skincare knowledge at my fingertips, like for instance, I can ask circa 3 am should I buy bareminerals or benefit foundation? I just bought toner made out of lavender and rose waters, is dat cool? WHY IS MY FACE BLOTCHY?? and homegirl has the answers. and do you know what this means? for the first time in EVER my face is BEAUTIFUL and I am not wearing make up or using acne medication or throwing cleansers on my face made out of alcohol and ingredients I can’t pronounce. this is kind of cool! also it’s nice because its fucking 100 degrees in boston and I can sweat my brains out and not worry about makeup smearing because I am not wearing any. it’s quite liberating actually, to feel pretty without makeup. I mean I love makeup, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice being able to do regular things sans makeup and feel presentable. and then, like, idk go out at night and wear makeup and be like oh look my eyelashes are like woogly bears or whatever. I shall now go through my daily skin care regime so everyone can look like me.
AM: Lush Herbalism exfoliator
PM: Lush Aquamarina cleanser
Both: Lush Eau Roma water toner, FRESH Lotus Youth Preserve Face Cream
also, if you want really sexual lips, slather them with FRESH Sugar lip treatment and then basically everyone will want to kiss you. I should know, as the last guy I made out with basically wouldn’t get his lips off me. I mean, he was also “coked out of his mind” but I like to think it was my extremely kissable self that got him worked up in a state, and not the cocaine.
I am not a city person. I like cities and love cities but I need to settle down in a cabin up north. There is pressure in cities that I don’t yet know how to avoid and I feel drained, so very drained. I am going location shopping soon, need to get a plan together.
my mom asked me if I’ve been writing lately. she’s never really done this before. she keeps saying I should start formulating a plot outline or just write write write. but then Sonya told me the same thing earlier this week. and it’s like where do I even start? I’m setting myself up for failure.
However. My psych has been helping me recognize my “racing” thoughts which I never thought I had and now I’m like oh fuck that’s what that’s been this whole time?? I thought I was just acting out melodramas in my fucking head. Whenever I do have these racing periods, I always start to feel anxious. It’s why I first prescribed xanax in the first place all those years ago. On Monday I was too lazy to get my pills so I tried to write out what I was thinking instead. It wasn’t as clear as I wanted it to be and it wasn’t as lyrical, but it was there. And it did help, it calmed me down at least. I think it would be good to start doing that - writing down the racing thoughts and then going back and editing them later. Some patterns might come up.
I’ve been reading a lot. I suddenly have confidence to go to bars by myself. I gave up sex and candy bars for Lent. I need a girl best friend here like stat like fucking yesterday. I’ve started a sociological experiment called why don’t boys my age like me and why is it that only people over the age of 27 talk to me at bars and find me interesting while I feel like I’m on a different planet than everyone my age? I asked Jeff for some insight on this issue and he seriously says “it’s your emo bangs, they’re intimidating” and then he said “you cut people off to quickly” and I said well that’s because unlike you, I have standards and I’m not going to start genuinely liking someone just because they show some sort of interest. but maybe my standards are to high.
yesterday while watching the pats/ravens game an acquaintance asked me what the point of publishing realistic fiction for teens was. “why should teens be reading depressing books about sensitive topics, they should all be happy. teens don’t need to read that.”
WELL I’m happy that your childhood was so hunky-dory but that is definitely NOT THE CASE for every child in america you ignorant twat. what’s the point? what’s the point?!? are you fucking kidding me? life happens and life isn’t always a good time. bad things happen to good people, good people do bad things. teenagers should read books they can connect with, that depict everyday life - both the good and the bad. shielding teenagers from realistic fiction is both an insult to their intelligence and a way to negate the emotional response a novel can produce. I was so shocked she said that. It was so snotty. It made me thankful for the millionth time that I never divulged any of my bad life parts to her. It’s this quintessential Ivy League thing. Sheltered life, sheltered college experience that seems to be the only topic of conversation, job at a great company - but what are you passionate about? What are your interests?
She referred to us as free spirits. She is not a free spirit at all. Straight-backed to the bone. And me?? I am definitely not a free spirit. Are you serious?? I’m doped up on anxiety meds how the fuck am I a free spirit.
in which Kendall reads the description of a novel for class and panic ensues
my professor has recommended that I read through reviews of all the books we’re going to read and let her know if there are certain novels I’ll have too much trouble with so she can provide a different title. I have trouble reading such realistic depictions about rape but I’ve been able to power through or give myself more time than usual to get through it because I know it will be hard. So I wasn’t entirely sure that I would take her up on that option.
Then I read the review of one of the novels we’re reading for next class. It’s about a rape that happens in Athens. It’s incestual, which has no relation to me, but rape nonetheless. THIS is hard - street names, geographical landmarks, local tidbits, only found in Athens. Lack of police help, only found in Athens. No one listening to you, only found in Athens. And then found in this book, that cuts too close, correlates too much, to the me that can only be found in Athens.
The heaviness before a panic attack is resonating through my body. My heart hurts. I want to get the panic attack over with but it’s dull, I know it’s not going to go away. I can’t talk about this relationship without crying. It’s easier to tell someone and then suddenly if I say I can’t read this book because of the setting, I’m choking out the word Athens.
I’ve been trying to work on my anticipatory anxiety but have no idea how I am going to get over this. I think I will try and set up a counseling session before class. Keep working on my breathing or whatever.
it’s morning #4 of a mood stabilizer induced sleep and I feel great. I’ve been sleeping on a normal schedule and I feel eerily calm. But not like other drug induced calms where you become really sleepy, just more slow I guess. I can focus much better. For the first time in months I was able to read a book straight through and retain the information; it was such a wonderful feeling. Drinking on it makes my heart pound and I had a triple espresso Thursday night & was entirely too over stimulated. I was so jittery. I start therapy in a week and a half which is good because feb 9 is coming and I don’t really know what is going to happen.
I went on a date with this guy on Thursday. We went to an improv show and then grabbed a couple drinks. He’s really nice, funny, into a lot of the same pop culture isms that I am. He’s a producer for a television show in the area and it’s really cool hearing about his job. He texted me all day yesterday and it made me go sour. I can’t do the whole texting convo through the whole day unless its like my bffs because otherwise I feel like people think that compensates for legitimate conversation, and it doesn’t. I would prefer if someone were to text me funny anecdotes or just to say hi, and then really talk when I’m with them.
Naturally I was recapping the whole thing with Elliot yesterday. I’m not a hugger (to which Elliot howled and said I know) but for going on casual dates, I kind of wish I was. Because I’m definitely not going to kiss the person (ooh am I having a change of heart) and the next thing would be hugging but that’s too close for me. I don’t like being touched by people. So the texting thing bothered me but then I could tell that he liked me and I don’t know why but that just makes me not want to pursue anything with them. I feel like I attract these adoring boys who put me on this pedestal and find me incredibly endearing but I am not the sort of person who should be revered. Like, at all. I take advantage of it as well and I’ve always been so used to getting my way and what I want that it’s actually fucking me over out here in the real world. This doesn’t make sense. It made sense when I was explaining it to Elliot. It’s just, I get away with everything - I’m always getting away with everything - and I guess I want to meet someone who will finally call me out on my shit and sit me down and say “stop pouting” “the world doesn’t revolve around you” “get over yourself” but then also have the emotional capacity to be sensitive when I’m in my deep deep depression. I feel some people try to do that with me - call me out on my shit - but when I go to them for support, it’s blown off or deemed not important enough or “minuscule” compared to what I do have, and it’s like, why? Why do people do that? The other day I texted Elliot being like oh beteedubs my doc thinks I’m bipolar and I’ve been out on mood stabilizers lololol and right away he called.
Mack was really good at that. Despite his faults he was really good, and probably the best, at dealing with me when I would call him crying or spend hours by myself in my room. I miss that sometimes and whenever I can feel my chest start clenching even harder than usual, I want to call him but I can’t.
The end of our conversation basically resulted in Elliot telling me that people don’t understand me because “passionate about literature and cuteness don’t often go hand in hand” and “when you meet people they meet the peppy Kendall, but you’re not always the peppy Kendall so you need to find someone who can deal with that” and finally “we have really good chemistry so we need to find a boy and girl best friend pair that also has really good chemistry and then date each other and hang out all the time.” Which is like the best idea ever. I’m all for Elliot trying to meet girls and everything but if they take away from my Elliot time I will become very jealous and conniving and evil.
Oh and then the bipolar thing. Yeah I don’t know what to think of that. On one side it’s like enough already! Then on the other, it would explain A LOT. Also, my mother’s assumption would be correct. I guess as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized how much of an affect my drastically changing moods have on my relationship with my family. They are always getting mad because they don’t know how I’m going to react and I will be so irrationally angry. It would be nice if this explained it - actually it would explain a lot of faults that I have with myself and am unsure how to change. I think, too, we can cross of chronic depression and panic disorder. So then it’s bipolar and anxiety, which is better than all 4.
news update: am unable to fully commit to my boycott of john green because the fault in our stars is on my contemporary realistic fiction list. we have been told to get over ourselves and leave our feelings at the door, which is kind of unfortunate because I was interested to see if anyone else in the class has heard about his casual racist remark and how they feel about it.
news update 2: I will go back to fully committing when the semester is over. So the last week in April ya’ll.
news update 3: I follow a lot of book blogs and ya know what I hate? When people quote lines from books they haven’t read. How can you understand the importance of a quote if you have no context in which to place it? You just like the pretty words, not the meaning. And you’re advertising to people that you have read the book which is lying which is not cool. Especially if your blog is strictly about books though maybe I’ll get crazy and have this apply to everyone and their mother.
where do men (boys?) get off thinking they can just hit on you whenever they want at any time of the day. I’ve spent years perfecting my saucy simmering anger and my glare and my “you’re incompetent grow a fucking brain” look and yet they are NOT deterred! just because I’m sitting over here air guitaring to smoke on the water, munching on my five guys burger and creeperily looking at the amazing 100+ option coke machine to figure out how to steal it DOES NOT MEAN I want to be hit on. More importantly, I’m obviously busy as fuck being weird as fuck, what in gods name do you want with me.
I would much prefer if I were reading a novel on the T or at a coffeeshop and a guy came up to me and was like hey I love that book wanna chat. Or like if I was blasting my current playlist of choice and a guy was like hey I love that cover of heart of glass, a bluegrass band is playing at a bar in Cambridge wanna go? BUT NO. THOSE MEN (BOYS?!?) DON’T EXIST EVIDENTLY.
and this has been a rant by Kendall as she eats her way through her anger at five guys, clearly negating her clean eating and guaranteeing an hour long run. GLUTEUS MAXIMUS.
today I slept and when I woke up I decided to go on a run. I can’t decide if I want to start training again, I probably will. Running the Athens half was really fun. I need new music to run too & I kept stopping to adjust my shorts or my headphones or to change the song and then I finally settled into the groove and ran ran ran for 45 minutes. I felt like I was back where I was in April, when I could run 7 minute miles easy peasy and spent my Sundays running loops around the Athens hills, doing laundry every couple days because I ran through sport bras too quickly and how pumped I was when I visited Leanne in Blacksburg and there was a sale on VT norts. And I fell back into thinking during the run, but not the bad thinking that started to permeate my thoughts in the spring of nightmares and unspoken words I would test out when I jogged - practicing how to say rape to the beat of the song of my feet of my fingers curled into themselves because it was always so cold. Coming home and jumping in the shower and I realize I miss that a bit, it was a really really shitty couple months but I had a lot of fun with nat and Kenz and Sonya and heids. and I guess today when I was absently thinking like I used too I realized that I can have those moments again and I will this spring. I liked being a runner, like that that was an adjective used to describe myself by other people. And I want to become a runner again, if only to clear my head and also get back to being tiny and looking hawt in Nike pro combat shorts ay papi.
in other news I just popped a xanax and am waiting to fall asleep by biting at my lips, which is a nervous habit of mine that I have never been able to break despite my penchant for purchasing ridiculously overpriced lip balms and goops and such
So, why are the funniest people the most depressed?
“Humor is a common defense mechanism. Some funny people like to make themselves and others laugh because it keeps them from crying. It distracts people from the real issues and pokes fun at things to minimize the impact. Albeit temporarily.”
I listen to the coleco remix of Florence and the machines cover of take care multiple times a day and now I’m back to where I was last year when I wanted someone to hurt me and then someone else to fall in love with me so this song would be relevant to my life which is a little fucked up. It always makes me laugh though because nat and I would play this all the time and one time when we were getting ready to go out she comes into my room and is all “do I look too ‘big girls all get a little taste’?” and I thought that was hilarious. Still do apparently. Also I like the “we’ll change the pace and just go slow” except instead of thinking sexual thoughts I imagine how this would look in text and it always appears like this: we’ll change the pace and just go sloOoOoOoOw. Also whenever I get really fucked up and super crazy I listen to this song because its like drake is whispering in my ear “we all have our nights though so don’t be so ashamed. I’ve had mine and you’ve had yours” and I’m like “yeah drake you’re totes right, I’m golden.”
I am a very moody person. Moodiness is not an attractive quality. I try not to be moody but sometimes I just sink into dark deep vats of anger and its so easy to hang out there and never leave. My exasperated face is wonderful, my pissed off face is absolutely frightening. So many faces, I’m not sure which one is my favorite. I’m snuggled in bed with my poncho breathing in Burberry perfume and gud body lotion, chilly, with nausea, and I’m afraid to fall asleep. I messed around with my lantus today and don’t know what’s going to happen. My mom is leaving for Detroit. I want to go. I just feel so disjointed. I guess this was a nice xany induced rambling. I dunno.
yesterday my mom handed me a hemp hoodlamb poncho and a nixon watch and I have been snuggled in my poncho all day while looking at said watch and pretending to be cool. my window is partially open and my room is perfectly freezing. there is a boy’s (men’s?) black sweater vest on my desk and I am not entirely sure who it belongs too and I don’t know if it’s bad that I find this to be a funny and a nice surprise as I have been on the hunt for a mens black sweater vest and now I have one for free. I’m reading Jacob Have I Loved and I am depressed and wish I was back on the water, either in Michigan or Boston. I watched Ted yesterday and miss Boston more than ever. Can’t believe I decided to stay in fuckstown virginia for so long. I really fucking love this poncho. it has a secret stash pocket that is so secret my mom and I can’t even find the damn thing. we’ve checked multiple times. I am not drinking alcohol anymore, at least not until my 19th diabetes day. I fucked up bad last night. frightening. I’m 22 years old and wake up to find my mom sleeping next to me “how else was I supposed to hear you if you started dying?” 22 years old and what? potentially wheeled into the ER “yes I’ve been drinking for 6 years, exercising for 10, managing my diabetes for 13, and I still didn’t take anything into consideration, and this is why I am here.” It’s like so this time last year I started hating myself for being diabetic, which scared me because previously I’d always just shrugged it off - what’s the point in hating it, nothings going to change. but its a year later, I’m going fucking blind, I rip out my transmitters when I am drunk, and whimper to stupid blog boy idiots about being a robot, and I still hate myself for being diabetic. it’s so annoying. I wish I had diabetic friends who understood why drinking and exercising and blood testing and insulin and drs visits suck, who understands the complexity of the disease and how it wears you down. that would be nice, I think.
"you’re pretty. like wicked pretty. and I really want to see you again. I think we could be good together. I can take care of you so you won’t have to worry about anything again. You can quit school if you want and do something you really care about. I’ll bring you with me on my international work trips. I just think you’re really pretty. Lets grab a beer"
WHAT. HOW ABOUT NO FOR X AMOUNT OF REASONS:
I don’t want to be taken care of you fuck. Have you never heard the song “Independent” by Webbie featuring Lil Boosie and Lil Phat? My face is practically the highlight of that music video
SCHOOL IS SOMETHING I REALLY CARE ABOUT. I LOVE TO READ.
the international work trips offer is cool…. really cool.. BUT I WONT GIVE IN
PRETTY? thats all you think? if you think I’m that superficial we got problems boo thang
beer? I cant drink beer. OBVIOUSLY you weren’t paying good enough attention to my drink choices at zee bar
“… and suddenly I got shivers down my spine thinking about how many different people one and the same person can be. Strong and feeble. Noble and mean. Brave and cowardly. There was no fathoming it.”—Agnes, “Nothing” by Janne Teller
R: I forgot what you look like. Send me a picture K: well, look. I have a computer chip sensor thing in my tummy now so photos are a thing of the past anyway as I am now a robot. you got me on my last weekend as a free woman R: what does that mean? K: I have a sensor in my tummy that tracks my blood sugar now. I’m like a modern day robot. And I’m not entirely sure how well robots work with flash photography R: technology is so crazy. R: and I am sure you will make the prettiest robot.