Hello. Welcome to August.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it to this month, but it seems as if Xanga has managed to raise the required funds to carry on. This is a great achievement and now I have no excuse to not write.
Big sigh. Sit down. Are you ready? Because here it goes. 

As of Monday, July 29, 2013, this girl is in a relationship.

I’ll just let that…fester.
Not that this is a terrible thing, but it is…not unexpected, but more ridiculous. How many times have I said that I am not looking for someone to commit to? Other than adorable boy, that is. And no, my boyfriend is not the adorable boy that I have been long pining for since before I recommitted to blogging here. I’m still trying to figure out my future and where I’m supposed to go and how I’m going to get there. What am I doing? What do I want? No one should be added to this already complex equation. I’m bad at math as it is without more variables getting in there and making it more confusing. 
However, I really like him. Like. A lot. And maybe I don’t want anyone else. 
I don’t know.

Well.
It’s going to be ninety some degrees here for the rest of the week and I am feeling the heat in more ways than one. Fall will be here sooner than I can contemplate my plans and I have to take the GRE before I start getting too old to remember anything. I need to find a new job because the list of problems I have with my current one just keeps getting longer and longer the more I sit here. Also, I’d really like to move out of my parents’ house before I get married and have children. I feel like time is running out and I’m having trouble falling asleep at night.
However, I have many distractions from these more serious troubles. I definitely have said before that I go through periods where no one is interested in me and then all of a sudden everyone and their dog wants to get into my pants. And seeing as I just went through a sort of “dry spell,” I’m pretty sure you can guess what is happening to me right now. Too. Many. Boys. It’s like I’m collecting them or something. It’s flattering and frustrating at the same time. Of course, I’ve met most of them through the gym and one of them through a mutual friend who sometimes joins me at the gym. I’m beginning to worry about what the gym has done to my life besides help me get fit. Because this is ridiculous.
Of course, adorable boy knows about these boys who like me, but he still has no inkling that he is the love of my life. The idiot who led me on at the end of May apparently is back and asked adorable boy if he knows how I feel about him. 
No, I am not interested. Thank you.
People can’t just pop in and out of my life. Especially after being so immature about it. I may not be a trophy, but I know I deserve better than someone who tells his brother that I just had too many problems to deal with. I’m tired of games. I forfeit. 
But, there’s a lifeguard at the gym that likes me. I just recently started talking to him. He’s not unattractive, but he’s not adorable boy of course. He’s good friends with a friend of mine, so I get to hear all about how awesome this guy is and how I should give him a chance. 
I don’t even know though. There’s another guy who I met at my friend’s party a few weeks back and we’ve been hanging out at parties since then. He’s nice and funny and smart and I know he also likes me. Of course, I have a few friends who are all for this match as well.
What is this? High school? Why does everyone suddenly have an opinion on my love life?
I think I do prefer blending. Just blend. Inconspicuous brunnette. The attention is definitely self-esteem boosting, but really? Why all at once? And why can’t adorable boy be one of them? It’s like everyone but the one I’m actually really interested in finds me attractive. I must be cursed. Perhaps I walked under one too many ladders or opened up an umbrella in doors. It’s bad luck. 
Maybe I shouldn’t be complaining. A lot of girls would love this kind of attention. I wish they could take it from me.
I can’t do this. I still need to find myself. I don’t need to a find another boy.

I just…don’t know.
When did I become one of those girls who goes through boys like tissues? I’m not supposed to be like this. I consider myself loyal. Even if it is just to a fantasy.
It’s this boy, then this one, then another one. I feel like I jump ship every other day and I don’t even know why. It’s very frustrating.
And I don’t think I want a relationship. Or even sex. I just like the chase. 
I’m thirteen years old apparently.
Maybe this is just a phase. Does everyone have a period in their twenties when they regress to middle school? No?
I just need to focus on something else besides boys.
So. I’ve started going to parties on the weekends. It’s…different. I’m not used to having somewhere to be besides work and the gym. It’s sort of like having a life without actually having one and it can get a little confusing. I am definitely not used to be being invited to various events and asked what I’m doing on the weekends. I’ve been meeting new people and hanging out for hours, drinking or playing various party games with strangers. And it can be fun.
I wonder what my high school and college life would have been like if I had looked the way I do now then. I bet it would have been vastly different. And that just demonstrates how vain our society is. Depressing.

It’s kind of sad that
America is “brave”,
But we’re so afraid.

I wish I could make video blogs. Sometimes, I’d rather say things than write them down. But words are words and so I will continue to blog traditionally.
Nothing new is happening, but I thought I’d take the time to say that since I have the moment to do so. Am I the only one who stays awake at night, taking inventory of my life and realizing how small it is? I suppose a lot of other people lead small lives too, but I feel like the size of my life is considerably smaller than most.
I watched a video that talked about when “life starts” and what that means and when it happens. The narrator was saying how he feels like he’s perpetually waiting for his life to begin, but he’s not even sure what that would feel like. He thought that it would maybe start at a certain age by default or when he accomplished something great. He wishes he could say that his life has started, but he’s still waiting. He’s afraid that his life will begin shortly before it’s over and that he’ll always be waiting. 
I guess I feel like my life has started. I mean, my life isn’t exactly exciting and as I said before, it’s pretty small. However, I do know what it’s like to be waiting for something. I always feel like I’m waiting for something. The present is never satisfying enough and I’m constantly staring at the clock. People are more likely to wish for the future and the past instead of being content in the present. Maybe that’s the reason why a lot of us feel like our lives haven’t begun. We’re waiting to be happy instead of content or something like that. Maybe it isn’t about what we do or how we do it but how we feel about it that makes people feel like they’re living. Or at least worth the space they take up on this planet. 
We could all just be afraid of living because living means dying and if we put off living, we try to put off dying. I wish we knew how silly that is.

Petals and leaves fall
Across my path down the hill.
I step over them.

I am back from the beach. And I am tan. And I am proud.
Yesterday, I was sitting in with my friend on her training session and I was highly amused to catch glimpses of adorable boy’s personality that he usually keeps so carefully away under a strict mask of professionalism whenever he’s around me. I was surprised to see how goofy he is. 
He’s perfect. 
And my heart will always belong to him. 
The job search continues and I am getting more and more sure of my future in stripping. I can’t do another year of mulch and I certainly cannot be unemployed, so I will continue to get into shape and when I feel completely comfortable naked in front of strangers, I will move to the city. Seriously, I don’t think I’ll ever find a job in my field worth having. English Literature was not the route that I should have gone. However, I would have just graduated from college last month if I had stayed in education and I’d have had another entire year of tuition and various other school expenses to pay off. Opportunity cost.
Oh well. I shouldn’t dwell on the “what if” of life anymore than I should dwell on the “adorable boy.” But we all know how well that works for me.

Sprinkles of black sand,
Glued to the back of my shins.
I miss the ocean.

Still feeling nostalgic, I was going back through some entries from 2009 and I inadvertently came across an entry that held a bit of advice that I really needed to read:

“I believe that if something is supposed to be then it will and anything that you do or say does very little to push it one way or the other. If he’s not calling, texting, talking to you, then I say move on. Stop bothering him. He’s obviously not that into you. Or something is not allowing it to happen between you two. Give up. Get out. Wait it out.
I remember what it’s like to be in that strange place where you don’t know what to do with a boy that is driving you crazy. It’s limbo, between holding on and moving on. Part of you wants to forget and another wants to never let go. It’s a terrible place to be. And you feel like you’ll be there forever.
But eventually, you see a sign — someone else, a letter, a smile, a kiss — that let’s you know what you should do. And then, after some time, you’re back to normal. You’re not pining after some boy that’s not yours. And everything is better. You’re out of limbo.
You just have to be strong enough to see what you’re supposed to see.”

My nineteen year old self just helped my now twenty three year old self. I was a wise teenager.
Let me explain here.
That boy that I knew liked me asked me to hang out with him about a week and a half ago. I said yes. It was a nice night. We talked and stayed up all night and I started to really like him. 
He kissed me.
We would talk and see each other and I felt like I had known him for years. It was nice and it was lovely and I was forgetting adorable boy by the day. It seemed to be going quite smoothly.
That is until recently when what I knew would probably get in the way did. There’s a part of his life that I cannot share with him because my interests lie elsewhere. I should have listened to my instincts. But, I did not. Now, he barely talks to me. 
When I asked him about it, he said that he “has a plan” but he can’t tell me about it “because if it doesn’t work out, he doesn’t want to tell me.” I am confused and somewhat hurt and I don’t like people who cannot be straightforward.
I’m tired of playing games. I am twenty three and he is twenty five and if we can’t be honest about what we are and what this is about, then I’d rather take the high road and call it. 
But, yesterday, I was upset and I was wallowing and I couldn’t pick myself up. My appetite was gone and I was falling into that limbo hole that you make when you open yourself up to someone who doesn’t help fill up that hole.
I was in trouble.
I haven’t had very many relationships issues as of late and I am out of practice. I needed to hear from my nineteen year old self who was fresh out of that stage, with a clear perspective of what is good and what is not. She was wiser than I was yesterday and I am grateful that I happened to read what she had to say. 
I wish I could go back in time and thank her for that post. It really helped.
Also, I am back to adorable boy. He wished he a happy birthday approximately twelve times yesterday. We’re getting married.

I need a rain storm
To wash away everything
That gets in the way.

Well, I’m twenty three today. I’m old.
Where to start…
I always end up writing with weeks in between. Looking back through my past entries, there was an entire year that I wrote every day. I don’t know how I managed that. Back then, I had even less time to blog than I do now and I still managed to write at least a few sentences a day, usually a paragraph. Perhaps I just don’t have the motivation to write like that anymore. Thinking about that sort of makes me depressed
Especially now with the announcement that Xanga may cease to exist next month. I’ve had this account since 2004. I was fourteen. It’s almost an entire decade. An entire decade of teen angst, college monotony, and crushes and loves that one day I’ll forget about. An entire decade of eyelash wishes, song quotes, and complaining. An entire decade of weather updates, homework procrastination, and wasting time. An entire decade of loss, gain, and regret. An entire decade of hope, change, and accomplishments. 
I was going through my old entries. I have definitely changed since I first started writing regularly. My thoughts are less disjointed and I feel like I’ve grown as a writer. I mean, I better have given all the papers that I’ve had to write over the years. All that practice had better count for something other than loss of sleep. I’ve been through a lot since high school and I like how my entries here reflect that. If Xanga does shut down, I’ll have to start blogging somewhere else. And, you know, I’d really rather not.
I have a history here. Granted, it’s not my entire history, but a lot of it is here. I came here when I needed a place to tell my story. And my story isn’t finished. I’ll probably donate what I can to keep my story here going. I need to.

It’s funny. People are more likely to blog about nothing than something, but the entries I’ve written mean more to me than anything I’ve written in a journal. So, thanks. Thanks, Xanga. Thanks for that.

Monthly update? 
It’s been almost a month.
Almost eighty degrees and it’s not even noon. Winter, right into summer. Always. No transition. 
This past Saturday, I was invited to a bonfire where adorable boy was. And while he was sitting next to me and talking to the other people around us, I realized I don’t know him at all. Well, sure. I know the professional trainer. who greets everyone everyday and smiles and doesn’t flirt with anyone. But, not this version. He was so awkward, with his sweatshirt and sweatpants and his hat turned around backwards. He was also shy and it took him awhile to start talking. 
But, he mostly just flirted with my really outgoing friend. Who, coincidentally, also has a boyfriend. Oh well.
He does remember things about me. And he did hug me goodbye. Which I am still obsessing over, along with his usual greeting of “Uh oh.”
Along with that, the brother of one of the trainers has taken to texting me. Oh boy. He’s cute and he looks like Harry Potter. But he’s into certain activities that I try to avoid. I’m smart enough to recognize a potential issue if I were to ever become involved romantically or otherwise with someone whose interests are different than mine. I may not be that old, but I’ve had enough experience with people to know what works and what does not. 
It could also be that I am still hopelessly crushing on adorable boy and until I can put that behind me, I shouldn’t try to pursue anyone else. 
It’s going to be a long summer. I can feel it.

There is a mailbox,
Sitting on the left street side.
Empty and waiting.

Blah.
I want it to be warm enough so that I can start living outside. Maybe I should move somewhere warmer. Like right on the Equator. That should make me happy.
I need to start running again. This week, I am going to run every day. I’m hoping that I can start running outside with someone. I want a running partner. Anyone.  Anywhere. At this point, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll run with anyone who wants to keep up.
This working six days a week thing can’t last much longer. I’ve got to ask for a day off or I think I might start screaming at people. Everyone who works out in the yard may work six to seven days a week, but sitting here in the office and answering the phone and talking to really unintelligent customers is not really ideal for someone who went to a four year college and runs seven miles a day. It makes me want to tear my hair out. On a good day. Bad days are a completely different story.
But, I noticed that I have ab definition. And muscles. Working out is definitely worth it. I want to be able to lift twenty five pounds without struggling like it was seven times my body weight. It’s sort of embarrassing that I can barely carry my laundry basket around my house when it’s full. More strength. More weights. More personal training sessions.
Speaking of personal training sessions, I have been invited to one with adorable boy by my friend who is already his client. I really can’t decide if I want to or not. Taking his class is already stressful enough with five other women, who take the attention off of me. I don’t want to imagine a two-on-one training session where I’ll get half of his attention. I like being mysterious. I don’t want him to get to know me. What if he won’t like me? What if he’ll find me annoying? What if he already finds me annoying? He’s so nice that I cannot figure out if I bother him or not. I mean, I barely talk to him but what if he thinks I’m just some silly twenty two year who isn’t worth a second thought? I really ruminate about this too much. 

The sun disguises,
The leftover winter wind
In warm, yellow rays.

Thursdays.
I hate Thursdays.
He’s really cute. Too cute.
“What, no book today?”
“Nope, I finished it.”
“That’s impressive. I even have trouble with Dr. Seuss books.”
Maybe I just want to be his friend. I can’t really figure it out and I’m not trying very hard. I spend a great deal of my time waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen on my own. I’m very indecisive. I hate that. But, I’ll probably never change.
Speaking of things that won’t ever change, my eating habits have since gotten weirder. If that’s possible. I’m binging and fasting. It’s hasn’t made a difference in my energy level as far as I can tell and I’m noticing that I have more muscle as of late. Perhaps on the days that I eat more, my body has the protein to make muscle. This is what I tell myself after I eat three pieces of pizza for dinner. But, as long as I’m not gaining a significant amount of weight, I think I’m all right. We’ll see.
Hey. At least this entire post is not dedicated to my stalking.

Drips of sweat falling
Onto the blue yoga mat.
It’s so disgusting.