scorpioslut-blog1

[scorpioslut-blog1]

What else can I talk about before I lose my ability to communicate once again?

Communicate. write. speak. express. emote. i'm just babbling like a crazy person. i just want to get it out, but i dont even know whats left. i mean theres always stuff left. i wanna write a book. i want to write poems. well fuck I'll try a poem i guess.

i tried it then deleted it. it sucked. 

[scorpioslut-blog1]

I want to produce

I want to produce art and create and draw and paint and build. I want things to be meaningful and thoughtful. I want to write and consider and analyze and deconstruct and think. I’m a thinker. I’m learning to like thinking, enjoying it, especially on drugs. I used to be so afraid of thinking, afraid of what I would think about, afraid of my mind, myself. I’m still afraid, and I wonder about that fear, whether it’s always been there or if it’s come back, like now i’m less afraid of death, but still, yesterday or the day before or whenever I was afraid to go in the cave at Sutro Baths, even though I’ve been in there before, but I know I was sort of scared then. But I don’t know if it’s empowering to know you’re scared and not do things because of peer pressure, or when I should just stop being a little bitch and just do shit. like at flog gnaw i didnt wanna do the boat ride, even though i've done those a thousand times, but not in a while not since before i became an Adult. i thought maybe it was empowering for me to know what i want to do and when, or what i dont want to do... but i did the ride and it was pretty petrifying because i hate the feeling of my stomach sinking but it was also sort of fun and me and bree were just holding on to each other screaming, and while i scream because i felt like i was dying, it does in theory feel good to scream. or to feel petrified. i dont know. but i'm glad i did it, so it makes me think of all the times i did things i didnt want to do. a lot i regret, like sexual experiences for experience, but then things i was nervous about and really enjoyed, like when i did acid that one time or microdosed on shrooms. but even flog gnaw, i didnt wanna go and i went for frank ocean and he didnt come, and i had a great time but also the whole thing wasnt like amazing or anything, it was definitely an experience though. and the most big group socializing i've done in months, to be honest. since my birthday maybe? which was a little more lonely than usual, which isnt a bad thing. but i did ecstasy right before fr(drake)nk came out and i was sooo glad, mostly because i've been having bad rolls for a while now, since august at special dinner, which is about as long as i've been sad in this way i think. when i started hating my body and it really started failing me and my relationships went to shit and i started trying to work through shit. which is obviously painful. but i dont know. again, this self enforced punishment or growth or isolation or prison sentence (dramatic and not comparable), i'm trying to learn something from this, i know its cyclical, my life that is, but i just want to be better. i want to be normal. i want to belong to myself. i want to know what i need and what i want and how to do that, or i wish that the things i wanted were good for me, but none of it is. i want to party and have fun and do drugs and eat good food and have lots of sex and watch tv and movies. i want my life to be a movie, but i'm learning for the first time in my life, or what feels like my second or hundredth life, that life is not supposed to be a movie. i'm not special. i mean i am, but again, life is not a movie. life is normal and i should be able to bask in the normality of it all, cherish it, which makes me think i'm depressed or bipolar or adhd or ungrateful or lazy or selfish or spoiled or entitled. i want normal. i want stability and routine and to wake up before noon and eat breakfast and shower and do my makeup and pick an outfit to wear, maybe do my hair, i want to do these things without feeling rushed, i want to enjoy doing these things. i want to not need to rush, i dont want to be living in apocalypse mode all the time, or high gear, or live fast die young, or carpe diem. thats one thing i'm also working on. not synonymizing carpe deiming with being self destructive or irresponsible. knowing that to appreciate life you dont have to live every day like its your last. but then i think that that method of life has also served me well; life is fleeting as i know! but i dont know. i'm trying to not rush things. not rush growing up or rushing to that next hit of dopamine or excitement or even recklessness. i know i'm destructive. but i dont want to destruct myself like this, hurt myself, because thats how the cycle perpetuates, how it feeds on itself. i feed it, i dont plan for my future self, i dont even think about the future, i'm living day to day which in some ways is enough but i want to change. i want to have enough faith and contentment to be able to wait for tomorrow, or the next day. i want to appreciate every day for what it is, appreciate myself, being alone, making myself a meal, cleaning my room, sewing a button onto my pants, doing my laundry. i dont want to just go through the motions, i want to be proud of the motions. i think if i keep going through the motions eventually theyll come a little more naturally or maybe even start to feel good. it does feel good to put clothes away or come home to a clean room or wake up not feeling sick to my stomach. but then it feels so good to lie in my bed and watch desperate housewives all day long and ignore my problems or responsibilities and eat goldfish high even though i know itll make me feel like shit in the morning. and thats why night life has been so great, yet awful, why i love it, i love dancing and making friends and being drunk and having fun and being young and living every day/night to the fullest. i’m trying to be a homebody i guess, for the sake of my health amongst other things, but instead i'm in this weird limbo, at this impasse where i'm neither being a productive morning/day person who does all the things i need to do, nor being a fun party girl who is always thinking about the next function and drugs and partying and fucking and all these human connections that i enjoy so much. nowadays i feel like i rarely even have any connections. i go days without talking to anyone besides my room mate sometimes, which is okay. thats another thing i'm trying to do, be kind to myself, not see every day as a failure or a success or even an attempt. i guess the attempt days are good though, like today, a failure but an attempt and perhaps even a half success sometimes. i want to be successful, i want to be functional. i want to do more harm than good, i want to enrich and spread joy the way i used to, but i want to protect myself. i dont want to give all of myself away, but now i'm being selfish and keeping to myself but i dont even know if i like myself. moments like right now i like myself, but i miss having friends and communities i guess. i also dont appreciate not meaningful conversations or interactions, i dont like anyone, which is toxic i know. i know i shouldnt not like people but when i'm talking to someone and i dont want to be talking to someone it feels so forced and uncomfortable and i’d rather be at home by myself, which i cant tell is good or bad, although i shouldnt be labeling things as “good” or “bad”. after sutro baths we went to kahlils friends for a little, and being around those people was weird. weird being around guys. i dont like mikey, hes annoying and thirsty but it was nice just being around guys and watching stupid stuff and smoking spliffs. and tylers cool to be around, and this other dude who i sort of know but dont like, so basically i'm around all these dudes i dont really like, socializing and trying to be social and chill and fun, which is just uncomfortable and feels performative. it was nice just watching stupid tv with them though, but i dont know, being around people is so weird to me now. i went to hang at a frat the night before i left for thanksgiving break and it was fun, being around people, letting myself be entertained instead of being the entertainee, existing just to exist and not for others or feeling like i have to be in a social mood or up all the time. but also not feeling the compulsion to drink during social situations i'm not enjoying. i'm trying to enjoy social situations without alcohol. well, i dont really have a choice, considering my health. i just dont want to be around anyone anymore i feel like... i dont feel like i can talk to people the way i want to, about real shit, or all serious and shit. i also feel like people think i'm always fun and funny and goofy and happy all the time but now i'm just such a downer, or a performer, or distant or guarded or exhausted or different. i feel like i'm different when i'm around people, and i wish i werent, i wish i were how i used to be but i'm trying to be different or more honest or less performative? i want to do things because i want to and not do things when i dont want to.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Other shit

While I’m on this lil intellectual high of mine, i figured id let some more ponderings come to fruition. i guess i wanna talk about j*****, which i think about all the time. not all the time, just more, especially in relation to loneliness, sex, intimacy, romantic love, and this is making me too sad so maybe i should stop. i just dont want to talk to anyone right now. on adderall i'm perfectly fine being in my head, i like my head, i hate myself on everything else. i just wanna be alone forever and enjoy it, wallow in it. i guess i'm just not sure if i'm fighting my nature or if i can actually change for the better. i want to enjoy being in bed and watching tv and sleeping in instead of hating myself. i want to let go of these notions i have on what is good and normal and productive vs. what is bad and evil and toxic and self destructive and unproductive. but i still love basking in the bad stuff. am i evil? i think about that. i know my brother does. i think about being demonized, being toxic and destructive and hate and anger and self loathing and self hatred and self destructiveness and sadness. i give up on this. maybe I'll find something else to do instead of homework right now. i'm too sad. or i dont want to think about or be around other people

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Social media, vices, drugs, intentions..again

On adderall. My chosen drug of preference right now. it makes me think, it makes me feel, it makes me express... i havent done it in like a week tho, so i'm sorta cracking out... bothering mila... thinking about life. I also just am always thinking, thinking so hard and about so much that I don’t even know what to do... and adderall makes me productive. it makes me feel, makes me think, makes me walk briskly and crave cigarettes and black coffee. my brother thinks i’m undiagnosed bipolar 1 and adhd, so maybe adderall was fated to be one of my many, many vices. which reminds me... i deleted instagram AGAIN, or my main account, just sort of disgusted with the distraction of it all... how i’m roaming these pages, even as an outsider, an outcast, a loner, comparing myself to everyone, being influenced by them... i dont really care about any of them... i mean i see wonderful people and wonderful things but i feel so detached, so isolated from everything and everyone. and i know i'm doing it to myself, but i dont really know how going back on instagram was supposed to help. i did it when i was lonely, and was stuck on there for a few weeks before it let me delete again. but i dont know. i guess i'm trying to live in the moment, in the real world, without the needs to broadcast everything or prove to people that i’m doing things and have friends and i'm beautiful and cool and all these things i used to care about. i just dont care, or am trying not to care, about how people perceive me. i feel like i dont, compared at least to a lot of people, but still, its this all consuming thing that ties into a lot of my concerns regarding the power of perception. and i’m just so angry. sooo angry at everybody, so angry at myself, i hate myself, i hate my family, i hate everything, and it isn’t fun. i wallow sometimes, i enjoy cigarettes and the smiths and being angry at the world but i dont know. today i missed a really important doctors appointment that, unlike most, wouldve been probably really useful and productive and instead i showed up fifteen minutes late (which is standard and not even that late) and they said i should reschedule but instead i didnt. afterwards i wanted to throw my skateboard off the second floor but i didnt, then i thought about throwing it down the stairs but i didnt. then i went outside and considered smoking a cigarette but i didnt. i instead walked back up the stupid hill i skated down in the rain just to make this stupid appointment and did all the things i'm supposed to do (after taking adderall). i went to the student store and stole a hydroflask, which felt really good, especially since i lost my old water bottle and thus my body and skin has literally suffered. then i went to walgreens and stole some black hair dye, which will give me something to do tonight besides all the responsibilities i'm perpetually neglecting. then i got a black coffee from strada (not a latte, because apparently adding any milk negates all the good shit coffee does for ur body, according to a random white guy in a dashiki i bought chips for outside of trader joes the other week). then i came to kroeber with the hopes of working on this project i'm pathetically half assing for sculpture, ran into mila, and have made him be the brunt of my adderall induced psychosis (not psychosis; using this word lightly). 

now i’m outside of kroeber because i wanted a cigarette, one of the few vices i’m not even attempting to mitigate at the moment. even though its not good for my skin and my stomach, two things i've been trying to really improve. the one thing i cant bring myself to do is get up and start my day and do all the motions of a regular person. i love sleep, and there’s nothing wrong with it, except i had been having a hard time going to bed at a decent hour for a while, so i got a dab pen which helps. all i've done the last week was sleep, though, and i'm enjoying it again. i can now go to bed early ish, if i try, which is good. i think i'm also getting better at thinking, which was the main reason, i believe, i was drinking. so i wasnt thinking so damn much. i've also tried not avoiding thinking of certain things, which i historically do, distracting myself with my social life and other people’s problems and my problems and boys i like and parties i’m going to. i dont worry too much about death anymore, which might be my greatest feat. i'm going through what i'm tell my friends is a quarter-life crisis, something they will understand when they turn 21. i think that’s a big part of it. i think a lot about where i am and what my twenties are supposed to mean, where i wanna be, the person i wanna be. i had a thought the other day that i had no sense of who i am. no sense of self or identity. especially after being consumed so heavily these past few years. i dont even remember the last year. i felt like i was floating through it. which i guess is the point of all my isolation and self punishment. i want to be present for my own fucking life. i think about the last year of my life and it just feels like i never digested it, realized my context in the world, outside of my house or my friends. which is the benefit of being alone. thinking, digesting, unpacking... but then i get so lonely and bored and unmotivated and then i just distract myself with television. which is so bad, but so good. i can think about these fake lives so much more, and not think about my life, or my lack of one. i dont want to feel bad for myself. but i guess i just want things that i'm not getting right now. i want friends i can laugh with and enjoy life with. i want things to look forward to, which come and go. i want love, i want someone to sleep with at night and cook with and watch tv with. i think a lot about the things that i've had, or when i had them. i had all these emotional, physical things with justin. and it’s been almost a year since i’ve had that. i had a sexual experience after thanksgiving, i went over to this guys house who is really nice and smart and a great but just terrible in bed. TERRIBLE. but he was a good cuddler, he’s really nice and respectful (i just dont want ANY sexual relations with him at all). i think i wanna be his friend. but it was really nice to have someone in bed with me. i think its also more hard when i see everyone around me in these beautiful relationships of all sorts, so happy and productive, even if everyones mentally i.ll too, they can sleep together and do things together... but i can do that too, by myself or with friends, which is what i'm trying to do. also not use other people as crutches, as reasons to get up or wake up early or eat food or have fun or socialize. after i get through this week or two of making up an entire semester’s worth of shit i didnt do, once i have free time which i simultaneously always yet never have, i want to love life by myself. i dont want to need adderall. but at this point i just wanna do anything that fixes things. i keep telling myself that if i just get through this and keep sticking to these changes I'll be happier. my new life will cost my old one. but then the pattern tells me that i need to stop hiding from who i'm meant to be. so i dont know what to do... i know i'm a social creature, i love people and connections, but i hate everyone, i'm sick of loving and giving, i'm trying to be intentional and waring and careful with my relationships but i'm just so lonely and bitter. i'm driving everyone away, killing the few relationships i do have, i hang with bree and like her a lot but like she pointed out, thats because we live together, not that i dont like her but i'm forced to socialize with her which is good but also i should want to socialize with other people. i think going home will be great for me. connect with people. i dont want to tell people how lonely i am but i am. and itl be really nice to spend time with the people who matter to me over there. about this whole not-present-in-my-own-life-for-a-year thing, i havent really been there on the east coast. like i want to be there. i was there for so long, and i thought this place would be my home, but now i'm wondering. i think also its realizing that its me, not where i am, so i need to fix me. and i'm trying to fix myself but also, at what point do i need help? how do i get that help? i know it sounds easy, my mother says so, i just call and make these appointments. but then its just so hard to do, hard to establish these schedules and hard to get there or even want to go, and money, so i dont know. i want to take a semester off but thats not gonna happen. i want to stay but i want to go. i want to get better, but i dont want to fall into the same patterns. i want to break the pattern. i want to stop floating through my own life. i want to be productive, successful, functioning, and I want to be that fun time, that fun funny beautiful person i know i am, but i dont want to be destructive or toxic to myself or others. i want to love myself, i want to be that person i used to be. i want to be as brave and confident and sexy and interesting and mysterious as people perceive me to be, but i feel like none of those things. i dont want to shower because i dont want to look down at my body. i want to get dressed and feel good about my appearance in the morning but i just always feel so ugly and insecure and uncomfortable, and i know i wasnt always like this, sometimes i am, but i wonder if i was just faking it, and i think in many ways i was. i know growth and self improvement is not linear and not always an upwards trajectory and i am trying, but it just almost feels like I'll never be that person again, and i want to. i want to go back in time. i want to always be doing things and having fun, but i know i cant. i know i cant because its not sustainable, its self destructive, its destructive to others, and that is how i became a commodity. i became something to consume and distract and give and create fun and introduce and party with and take pictures of and with. it makes me sick. it makes me sick how people want to be me or be with me or theorize on me and my personhood and think of the ways in which i serve them, how i'm always up and happy and fun and if i'm not then i did them wrong, or i'm wrong, or i'm mad, or i'm rude. i dont like how people want things from me, how i'm always performing, always pretending. i dont like how people dont want to understand how complex people are, but then again maybe its only in regard to me. then its my fault for creating this persona, feeding into it, allowing and encouraging them to take from me, its not that theyre taking but its that i'm giving, so i dont want to give anymore. i'm sick of giving and giving then being painted the devil. i dont like trying to be this or that or hoping for this or that. so i'm not giving anymore. which hurts me, i want to give, i want to love and create and bring together. but i think about how i surround myself with beautiful people and things, hoping that if i am surrounded in beauty that it will make me beautiful. i fetishize everything, everything fetishizes me. i like to be looked at but i hate when people look at me. i want everything to be about me, but i am nothing. this is not a movie, this is real life, people die, people take drugs, people hurt, we hurt each other, the world is unfair and fucked up and some peoples likes just arent supposed to be easy. i know i'm grateful, and i'm trying to be more grateful and appreciative and exist in this life. i am thankful for my parents, but i'm mad, and i cant even vocalize or express in the ways that i want to. i cant say anything real without crying. i'm not even particularly more sad than usual, i think i'm just depressed and lonely. which i've been many times before. anyway, i'm trying to take advantage of everything around me, like i'm supposed to. i want to go to dolores and bask in the sunlight, i want to enjoy being with people but not be the entertainer. i want things to feel natural and effortless but i want to be intentional so bad, i want to be thoughtful and intentional with words and actions and situations i put myself in. like when i hooked up with that boy, i didnt want to, i didnt know how to say i just didnt want to. when i actually am invited somewhere and i socialize i want to enjoy it without drinking or drugs but i cant. i had a nice day the other day, me and my room mate and her mans and her friend who’s my friend who i love dearly and is really awesome, we all went to sutro baths and had a grand old time, a great day, we went to an estate fair and a coffee shop and we went to sutro baths then got vietnamese food, it was lovely. i want more days like that. it felt nice to socialize, be with a group of friends, having fun, being young. i want that balance, i want to focus on my career and studies and interests, i even want more days like today. i failed miserably but i took adderall and did some things in between before it hit and now i'm writing my feelings, which feels absolutely amazing. i'm on my 4.5th cigarette today, but like i said, one allowed vice in the place of many. i want to do things, to be functional, to live in this moment with full presence and action.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Stupid social media

It’s probably been a year... two years... who knows? I’m still at college or whatever, oversharing with pseudo anonymity on tumblr, incapable of journaling like normal or dedicated depressed emo art hoes have been doing for centuries... 

Anyways, I guess I went off social media mostly for the first time in my life... temporarily deactivated twitter (until christmas) and instagram (until further notice), still have my finsta which i'm sworn off of, my spam ~aesthetic~ account which literally keeps me going, my art acct which is sort of stagnant as the moment as i dive into my new hobby/class mandated photography obsession, and my new food diary instagram which is pretty lame and literally just for me to reflect on eating habits. oh i'm on adderall right now. which i looove... it just feels good, ur mind feels good, u think hard but like i feel like i could write a novel, clean my room, text everyone i need to catch up with, or i dont know, write on tumblr like a teenager (i’m 21 fucking years old now). Anyway I’ve been thinking a lot recently about anger.... anger as a coping mechanism, justified anger, repressed anger, anger at yourself, hatred for yourself. anger that is productive and unproductive. at cal, anger at white people, at men, at the world, at people. i’m also thinking a lot about paul, the founder of the palestine decal that i’m taking. and how he spoke to our class on tuesday and explained how israelis, like 18 year olds in the IDF, are taught to hate, are conditioned to hate--not even hate--dehumanize. like how by the time an israeli teenager turns 18 they have already been trained for the military--not physically, but psychologically--to see palestinians as less than human. he frames settler colonialism and israeli occupation of palestine as not an ethnic conflict, not ideological, not religious, or cultural--but about LAND. israelis are murdering, dispelling, bombing, etc. palestinians for the cold, painfully simple reason that they are on land that israel wants. it is not because israelis hate palestinians. while that may be true for many individuals, in which israelis may be racist or islamophobic or for whatever reason hate palestinians or see them as less than, that thought process is a result of government conditioning and hegemony. while america is, in some ways, its own unique case study of cultural, religious, ethnic, social, economic “diversity”, paul also said that we’re all the same. in that, there is nothing unique about the palestine/israel instance compared to, say, the british in south africa. or in india. or australia. or the US in the americas or hawaii or the caribbean. there is nothing unique about palestine/israel, except that their colonization was put in a historical context so close to our current timeframe that we are forced to analyze it as if it were an anomaly. but that’s besides the point. anyway, anger. and hate. in america, it made me think a lot about two communities i was somewhat a part of, whether i felt like it or not---percussionville and berkeley. and how similar they are, and how different i feel in both. back home, i was so angry. i was soooo angry. angry at my parents for putting me there, angry at the people i went to school with, angry at admin, at my teachers, at my peers, at boys, at girls, at white people, at the government, just angry. and i stayed angry in college. i removed myself from that environment but still it haunted me. i never let go of that anger, it blinded me, i couldnt even allow myself to process those four years. and i was still so colonized and following a series of unfortunate events, or fate, or my own hypocrisy or internalized white supremacy, i was surrounded by all white friends, while still trying to understand my own relationship to whiteness, how i was similar to my white friends but also how they could never understand. so i was just blindly angry at white people--and after i stopped being friends with them, anger was almost how i coped. and the poc friends i found myself building relationships with shared this anger, encouraged it. they were angry too, for different reasons but also the same, in different contexts, different levels of anger, manifestations, outbursts, and copings. it was easy to hate these individual white people. before, it was easy for me to hate the idea of white people. in high school i hated white people, but i was always surrounded by them, friends with them because there were no other options really. i mean, i was literally living in it. people here don’t get that, i think, except other poc who really were that heavily immersed in that. like i didnt have a choice. isolation is hard. i spent a lot of high school alone, of course, but i'm a social creature no matter how hard i try and fight it. and this summer i think the idea of hating individual white people for the ways in which they wronged you was almost glorified. and i understand that people are angry. but our anger is all different. i can never even begin to understand the anger of a Black person, especially a Black woman, or a woman who has been sexualized constantly for her beauty, objectified and harassed her whole life, or someone who is currently decolonizing and realizing how much they had ignored or allowed their whole lives... these are just examples of people i think about when i try to think about others’ anger. but my anger is my own. i experience it in my own ways; i have been angry my whole life. i think i came out of the womb angry. i've always just been an angry person, and been suppressing it my whole life. that resulted in me mostly being angry at myself my whole life. and the world. i've had healthy anger, misplaced anger, toxic anger, unjustified anger, genetic anger. and i truly believe that healing is knowing how to cope with this lifelong anger, anguish, sadness. i was angry this summer. i was angry because it seemed like the only way to cope, to be angry at the people who i had failed to set boundaries with, people i had hurt, people who had hurt and confused me. angry at white people, men, starting drunken fights at parties, outside bars... 

anyway, that was a huuuge tangent but my point is. in relation to the palestine decal guy, paul. he’s a few years older than us, and he was clearly still angry as well. angry at the university, for starters, angry at hypocrisy. but the surprising thing to me was that he did not seem angry at israelis. which is a good thing. and he has every right to be angry, to hate the 18 year old IDF soldier, despite the fact that this might be all they’ve ever known, despite the fact that hate is taught, despite the fact that there might not be anything to make that soldier change, or to change how they see paul. but he wasn’t angry. he didn’t blame individuals. he said this was structural, that zionism was not judaism, despite the constant conflation of the two, especially at cal, especially with people who sit in the same classrooms as us every day. it’s easy to be angry. i’ve been angry at so many people. and i have always accepted that i am flawed, i hurt others, people are angry at me. but i don’t know. i don’t know how it is productive for me to be angry. most recently i got angry at felix. and i definitely am still frustrated by him and don’t think it’s even worth talking about at the moment, or that i have the capacity, but i don’t want to be angry at him. i love him, miss him, wish him the best. just texted him that i miss him actually. anyway, on anger--i tried to make him hold my anger, and just sort of lashed out on him over text. which isnt really productive. at the time i was going through a lot with other people, and i think i was so frustrated with always being painted the bad guy that i wanted someone else to hold my anger. i have held others’ anger, and tried to understand it, so i guess i just wanted someone to do the same for me. it did feel good to yell at him honestly. but anyway. back to my point. 

i think about where i'm from, where i grew up, and i have to claim it. i’ve been so angry for the past two years, running away from that place and everything about it. coming to a place that seemed so drastically different at first, but eventually realizing that everywhere is, in many ways, the same. like paul said. i can’t be angry at felix, even if it’s warranted, even if my friends applaud me on the text i sent him. i mean i can. i can be angry at my old friends. but i dont know. i just am so so tired. i'm old. i'm 21. 

[scorpioslut-blog1]

I know I say this every time but...

BEST SEX OF MY LIFE!!! A lot has been missed but just gotta describe what went on before I forget it... Sunday night I go on a Tinder dick appointment not expecting anything spectacular, just chillin and smoking and probably fucking. Told my parents I was going to sleep at Sam’s, so I knew I was basically in this bitch for the whole night, but was just expecting to crash after getting dicked down. So I get there, homeboy lives in his friend’s basement, pays rent and everything bc I guess he really doesn’t fuck with his family (plus I’m 99% sure he’s a drug dealer). Him and his (really really hot) friend are in the garage smoking out of a bong which he immediately offers me and I humbly accept and hit (thank god I hit it well, my lungs are finally doing me justice). We go downstairs and he turns the lights off, puts on these cute lil party lights for ~ambience~, puts on music. Good make out music. First song was All The Time by Bahamas. There was some Black Keys, some Pink Floyd (nut), other good shit. He’s rolling this blunt, finishes, and he’s on this reclining chair I’m in the chair on the other side of this lil table. And then he tells me to come here. So I do. And I’m on top of him and we’re making out on this reclining chair, he’s sucking on my titty, it’s great, we fuck on the reclining chair for a while (uncomfortable, especially with me on top). But the making out is great, he has this cute lil stubble, biting and tugging and sucking on my lip, pulling my hair, etc. Good music playing in the background. We knock over the table. Etc. We go a few rounds, we’re smoking the blunt WHILE fucking, I hit it then blow the smoke in his mouth while we’re making out and he does the same back. Eventually we move to his bed and fuck there for a while, him on top, me on top, my legs on his shoulders, legs bent up, me riding, me ontop...etc. etc. It was honestly amazing. He did everything RIGHT. Was loving and sweet and passionate, but also freaky and hot. We were standing up making out (probably getting undressed) and he looks me in the eye and goes “you’re beautiful”. NUT. And the way he kissed me...he looked straight in my eyes and held my face in his hands and just kissed the fuck out of me... so hot. And he has that stubble so that shit was giving friction to my face like...DAMN. And we would be fucking and he would hold my hand and our fingers would be intertwining... and the one time he hit it from the back, he wanted to see my face and would hold my hand while doing it. It was totally hot and passionate and sexy but also like...intimate. Also I was pretty high. It literally felt like we were becoming one person. Like, intense. Insane. I came so many times, and I almost never do. We would come together. I came from getting eaten out, fingered, fucked, basically everything. He kept coming, I kept coming, we kept going... He would choke me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe but it was so hot, and he would grab my hair and pull my head back... ASJKDAKSD. Good shit was said too. He just said sexy things that were also cute right at the right time. Like, “I could fuck you forever”. That was just the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. He said I had the perfect ass, that I felt so good, etc. etc., and at one point while we were cuddling (AMAZING cuddler) he said something about how I have great boobs and how the nipple piercings looked really good on me or something and how it made him want to put the whole titty in his mouth and I started attacking his mouth right there. Also, while we were (amazingly) making out he would just start kissing all over my face. Just kisses everywhere. My cheek, my neck, my chest, my tits, my stomach, everywhere. Ugh. AMAZING. God. Best sex of my LIFE. He ate my pussy so good, I was so turned on, I kept coming and coming and so did he. Homeboy had STAMINA. God, he fucked me so good. And he was like probably 6′5′’ at least so not only was it hot because he was tall and had to lean down to kiss me, but his dick was HUGE. Anyway, eventually we go to bed and we’re hella cuddling (had been cuddling between fucking for short periods anyway) and he’s sooo good at it... doesn’t care if I’m on his arm, in fact, wrapped both his arms around me and just... ugh. I just wanted our bodies to melt into one. He would be caressing me, kissing my hair, head, shoulder, just being so affectionate and intimate. Arms all wrapping me up, me holding them closer. So we sleep for however long, probably HELLA late because I remember we went AT LEAST 5 times that night (lost count). We wake up eventually and just start going at it again. Amazing... Eventually I got pretty sore and he was soo considerate about it, asking if I was sore, if it hurt, if I was sure I wanted to keep going/if it hurt... A KING. But honestly I just wanted to keep going knowing damn well it was painful as hell... We went at least three or four or possibly more times just in the morning. I could’ve spent literally all day there. At one point I’m looking up at him, his long hair all around his face, and I said “you’re cute”. He smiles and goes, “yeah, I’d say you’re pretty fucking cute yourself.” We went slower the last two or three times because he knew I was sore and it was hurting, but still got dicked down. And at this point the louder I screamed the faster he came. We were still basically coming together. And eventually, it gets to around noon, I was supposed to have the car back at like 11:30 but I don’t care, we keep going and going and his friend eventually comes down to get him to go to get an oil change with him. We’re still in bed, and I’m looking at him all turned on and he goes “stop looking at me that way”. UGH!!! The effect I have. I am magic. I’m so powerful. Anyway, we go one more time after his friend leaves and cuddling and fucking and whatnot and while we’re just lying in bed he goes “you’re so lovable” referring to all the affection he was giving me... all the kisses and caresses and squeezes and arms and hands and...UGH!!! I’m gonna KILL MYSELF FOR HIM!!! Anyway we go one more time and eventually he drags me out of bed, we’re standing up and making out and I’m not letting him go easily and he goes “we get it, you’re great at kissing” hahahaa...I’m amazing. Anyway, he LITERALLY finds my clothes and DRESSES ME, starting with underwear then pants then eventually my shirt and he throws in some titty sucking... and eventually we make it upstairs. We made out some more before the stairs then he held my hand up the stairs and we get by his friend and the dog and we’re at the front door. He says I should get his number, so he puts it in and I save it. I ask if it’s for him or me, he said we’d probably both regret getting it. And we make out some more, and he says have a great day, I say you too, he says I already am. 

And THAT is the PERFECT SEXPERIENCE from START to FINISH. Respectful but hot sex, intimate and loving and personal and erotic and hot and freaky and intense and fucking all night long... that shit was making LOVE. He liked looking at my face, he liked that connection, wanted me to get off obviously... didn’t even try to get me to suck his dick ONCE. And for THAT, I am sucking the LIFE out of him next time I see him. Whole mans... Considerate, affectionate, worships and appreciates me and my body, didn’t like to hit it from the back that much (which, let’s be honest, can get dehumanizing when you do it too much), ate me the fuck out (even my ass but, I’ll admit it, it was good with him), loved cuddling, kissed my forehead, kissed me everywhere, but still slapped my ass, grabbed it, choked the life out of me, pulled my hair. UGH. I’m SO TURNED ON. AND he walked me out, we were even hugging for a while after making out just for the feeling of it. HE got my number and while we were fucking made some joke about us celebrating more holidays (because we had this joke about getting together in the name of Father’s Day/Flag Day). So far no red flags with our infrequent texting, he’s been sleeping/working, asks how my day is, etc. Not tryna cuff since I’m leaving anyway but THAT is the kinda dick that makes u wanna cuff. He really did the MOST. I wish I could do that forever. I really could. Smoke blunts and fuck and lie in bed with him all day, all night...

[scorpioslut-blog1]

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Well it’s 2 fucking am and I have a fucking final at 11:30 am and I haven’t done shit. But honestly, I don’t care. I should, but I don’t. And this is better than doing nothing. Things have been moving fast and I should really deal with at least some of it. So here’s something that people ~journal~ and ~write~ about to work through.

There’s this guy I’ve been fucking since like February every once in a while, he was my first post-Josh and simultaneously post-Chris experience, just some Tinder dude. Hot, long ass hair, looks like Jesus, eyebrow piercing, wears a grill, bright blue eyes, hella tats, HUGE dick. First time I did yay was the first time we fucked, so needless to say, amazing. I knew from the second time we fucked (which was incidentally after I had a three week almost-relationship with this white skater who eventually dumped me for unknown reasons) that it wasn’t there and was best left as a one time thing, but I kept fucking him because it was available and no-strings-attached dick, a huge dick, and I guess just boredom and insecurity. Whatever. I knew he didn’t respect me or care about me or think of me as more than a fuck or a hoe or a hole. But whatever. It was a late night booty call dick appointment kinda thing. This went on till a few weekends ago, when my mom was in town actually. Friday night we go to this party and get really fucked up, and I hit him up around 2 or 3 am like I often do after parties. He picked me up and even dropped two of my friends off on the way. We go back to his place like usual and start hooking up. Don’t remember details in all honesty. Then, he moves to my ass. He’d asked about anal before and I hadn’t said yes. He’d try to get me all sorts of things, but always respected when I said no, even after pressuring or whatever. But this time he didn’t. I honestly don’t know if I said no or not. I feel like I did. I definitely tried to fight it. But I was pretty fucked up. And he knew I didn’t want it. I remember it hurt a LOT and I was just trying to get through it and for it to be over. He came in my ass. I was just lying in his bed after, trying to recover, and he didn’t even let me crash. Said he had to take me home because he had to get up early the next day. He took me home, we made out a little in the car and I left. I don’t know. The next day I went to brunch with my mom and two friends. I told one of them and she gave me a pat on my thigh. I didn’t really THINK think about it until yesterday, when I was off the addy (which gets me hella introspective and in my feels and emotional). Like I had thought about it, but not really THOUGHt thought about it. Like I was still partying after, hanging with Tinder dudes, carrying on as usual. Honestly I still feel like I’m mostly fine. I posted about it on Finsta yesterday during addy span just to get it out there. I told Mich today and she flipped and got sorta mad. She wanted me to go to the cops, blah blah, asking me if I said no and that I should’ve pushed him off, write about it, all this shit. She was trying to help but she just made me feel like a shitty person for not reporting and like it was my fault. Which it sort of was. I definitely put myself in bad situations by letting guys that don’t treat me good or even respect me fuck me. I know I didn’t deserve getting raped or anything, but I don’t know. I’m not like traumatized or anything, but I guess that’s something that happened that I have to deal with or talk about or reflect on I guess. I guess I should like love myself more. And like only fuck dudes that actually respect me and see me as a human. Or take a break from men. Or stop trying to fill the void? Or stop trying to fuck like men do? Or delete Tinder? I don’t know. I think this is some sort of sign that I am extremely damaged and unhealthy and have severe issues but I don’t know what to do. Michelle sort of made me feel like shit. I hate everyone. Honestly, guys are better than girls in many ways. My friends literally make me feel like I’d be better off if I didn’t exist. They make me feel worthless and selfish and narcissistic and that I really shouldn’t exist. They make me feel toxic to everyone in my life, like I’m this big nuisance that kills everything I touch. Toxic, problematic, all bad with no good. Guys make me feel sometimes nothing, sometimes something, sometimes bad about myself. But you know, you expect that from them. Low expectations. And they’re so wrapped up in themselves and their egos and dicks that they don’t spend their time criticizing me. Also, friends always ALWAYS let me down. Well, so do guys, but with friends, you never expect them to bail on you or dump you or tell you you’re awful. Guys will just ghost you and never say why, but friends will like slander you and yell at you and make you wanna die. And you can just hang out with different guys and just have a new person to spend time with so you’re not alone. And friends are bitter and resentment builds up and want things from you and criticize you and think of their own best interests. So how am I supposed to trust friends on guys? This took a different turn than I thought. I’m just sick of all of this. My friends have honestly hurt me a lot more than guys have. In all honesty, it hurt more when Jose called me toxic and caring only about partying and boys or when Briana said that there’s a reason everyone keeps doing this to me or when Rocky literally just cut me off with absolutely no explanation or when Michelle ignored me for like a week because she was allegedly so busy with school. I really do wanna kill myself sometimes when my friends make me feel like they’re so much better without me. But obviously there’s parents, and my fear of death. They just make me feel like I’m nothing or worse than nothing. I think I take things people say deeper than actions sometimes. Which explains a lot about this whole lack of emotion or feeling on the Winslow thing. 

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Again, shouting into the void

Ugh, I hate maintaining relationships. So hard. What am I supposed to do, fucking kill myself? People always criticizing me and I try to work on these things and be a good friend to everyone in their own ways, but still, I always feel strung too thin. I don’t even know what to do, do I spent my life apologizing to all my friends for not being able to please everybody? Michelle is always bitching at me about this kind of thing even though I never give her shit about going off with a guy, I support her because I want her to get dick, or if she takes a night to hang with her sorority friends instead of go out with me. i don’t know why she gets mad at me if I do something without her? I mean, I was a bitch last night but I apologized and she didn’t like it.

Anyway, boys wise, I FINALLY had sex for the first time since K*le (my boyfriend who wasn’t my boyfriend but sort of was for three weeks until he dumped me out of the fucking blue around the beginning of March). I had a blacked but still decent one night stand with this senior I met at Chi Phi last Friday who was on the gymnastics team for three years at Cal, so had an amazing physique truly. He caught my eye earlier at the party because he had these sexy tattoos. So when we ended up on the roof of Chi Phi smoking cigarettes and his friends came to bum one and he joined our little smoker’s pit, I kept my eye weary but didn’t actively finesse until his two friends left (after all my friends) to go downstairs and it was just us two. I didn’t make major moves, but we just kept talking then went downstairs together and eventually I asked if he wanted to go back to his place. I never make it a mission to get dick actively and officially at parties, but honestly, it was time. I had gotten fingered ONCE at a strip club in Mexico, which left a bitch too horny with very little prospects (ESPECIALLY without a phone--can’t text any dick appointments or old hook ups, or I could via iMessage or Instagram DM or Twitter but at that point it’s just thirsty and desperate). Anyway, we smoked back at his place and fucked, but in all honesty, I remembered very little. But the next morning, I woke up to him cuddling me, which was nice, and he looked fine as fuck walking around in just a towel. A fine ass Armenian Man. Anyway we were gonna fuck again in the morning but he ended up getting a blowjob, lucky him. He dropped me off at CKC in his car which was nice, although honestly expected like you have a car but nice nonetheless, and I learned a long time ago to expect very little from party hook ups so made absolutely no attempt to get his info (plus he couldn’t even contact me if he tried, without a phone), which I’m now regretting. I ran into him twice on Thursday, once at Chipotle and again on Sproul--successfully and instinctively avoided him both times, but the second time, lurked after skrrrting because I sort of wanted to run into him. Oh well. If I see him I see him, if I don’t, I don’t. 

Next chapter. Monday night, I was bored as FUCK, so I decided to hit up the most recent nice and cool looking Tinder match to smoke. The weather was gorgeous, it was a warm night, I just wanted to smoke outside and enjoy some interesting company. Instead, I get dicked down in a car at Grizzly Peak and smoke a poorly rolled and lacking joint. That was honestly a pretty shitty experience. It’s because this fucker really made it clear he wanted to hook up, like in the messages, and honestly, I felt like I had no choice but to fuck him. Which sucks. Like I did it and he didn’t hold a gun to my head or anything, and I totally could’ve stopped it at any point, but I did what I unfortunately do best and just went with it, even though I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about it. And I felt pretty gross after. He was this loser who was a car dude (who all suck), was too aggressive, too much tongue, tried to RECORD me giving him head, and made me deep throat even after I said I wasn’t into it. AND he wasn’t as cute or well kept as his pics. Ugh. I hate men. All I wanted was some nice company and to get high. Like it wasn’t bad dick, but definitely wasn’t good. And he kept trying to insinuate he wanted to do it again which I was NOT about. I still let him make out with me when he dropped me off back home. Ugh. I need to unmatch with him. Last night I hit him up at like 3 am in a moment of horny desperation, mostly because my dorm was empty which is a rarity and feels like a waste without a man in there naked. Anyway, I’m gonna say it--overall, with contributing factors besides dick game, worst sexperience of my life. The Other Car Dude, Sergio, is definitely tied, but he was at least a nice guy who has tried to take me on dates for like the past three years. Yes, a pity fuck, and yes, worst sex of my life, but as a whole, I felt gross after it in a different way. After Car Dude The Second, I felt dirty and shitty in a very different sense. I felt bad about myself, almost. I don’t know. I almost wish it didn’t happen. The alternative would’ve been staying at home and watching Netflix, I guess, but still.

Anyway, the third chapter of this trilogy: Super Tall Dude. This 6′9′’ dude from Tinder has been talking about taking me out on a date and seemed like a really nice dude, so he came from SF to kick it Thursday night (valuable Funk Night/bar hopping day but whatever). I just wanted to watch Black Panther on someone else’s dime, but as per usual, men are a compromise. He asked if I’d rather see Black Panther or A Quiet Place, and instead of being assertive and getting what I deserve, I said both seemed cool and that he could pick. Which is true, but obviously I wanted to see the BP. AND A Quiet Place SUCKED. Whatever. We still watched a movie and he did the classic arm around me during the movie move, which I hadn’t experienced since the summer after 8th grade when I was caught up with Samuel Tenaglia. It was nice. We walked around after, which was a little weird, then we smoked up at--wait for it--Grizzly Peak (reconditioning the brain by associating a place, shirt, song, etc. with multiple men makes it less sentimental, at least in a heart break or bad experiences context). We actually had a great time, he’s funny and interesting and tells great stories--great person to smoke with, which is exactly what you need in a male companion: temporary, fleeting, or otherwise. I got pretty high, which was exactly what I wanted. Hadn’t done that in a while, probably since Mexico. Anyway, we drive back to good ol’ CKC, and talk a little more outside my building, and eventually, he makes the move. And damn, that boy can KISS. I don’t know if it was him or the weed or the fact that this was more romantic and date-y than my last TInder Encounter/Disaster, but it was a GOOD make out sesh. The kind where, yeah, obviously boys always want more, but it was just good as is. Like, really good making out. Slow, hot, not too much, not too aggressive, not too quick, and not making out with the intent of sticking it in me. But like, making out. It was really, really nice. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to hang out with him that often, or even again, but I did say I would hang with him tomorrow. Maybe I’ll reschedule. My life’s a disaster. And I think Michelle is done with my ass, which is understandable I guess. I don’t know. Things are good. Things are bad. Things are fine. I’m ungrateful. I’m selfish. I’m a real piece of shit. I’m trying. I’m not trying. I’m failing. I’m insecure. I’m wasting time. I’m waiting to die. I’m looking for something. I’m looking for nothing. I don’t fucking know. Either way, this whole writing thing has got to do more positive than negative.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Shouting into the void

That’s basically what I’m doing. Occasionally. Ok, more like sporadically. And briefly. With very little context or regard for any possible audiences. Anyway, I got my phone stolen in Mexico during spring break, which was a shitty karmic thing that happened because I’m insecure and self-serving and also didn’t tell my parents I was going to Mexico. It’s been over two weeks phoneless, and as time goes on, I continue to deteriorate. I try to be all positive and liberated, being phone-free, but honestly, it sucks and is a huge inconvenience. But I’m trying to live more in the moment and think of all the things I’m lucky to have. For real. Mexico, going to Berkeley, having all these great friends, a supportive and financially privileged family, I’m blessed (not that there’s a god). So I’m trying to be more grateful and positive, but not try to be all fake happy and positive because it’s honestly transparent and exhausting. Anyway, I’m not having a great day. But I’m gonna try to improve it. It’s basically over, but I’m gonna try to have a good night. Yesterday was pretty fun, me and Lauren applied for our apartment then we all sent it to Dolores pretty late (6:30 pm) and fucked around drinking Smirnoff and smoking a little weed and tobacco (separately). We were still drunk when we got back, and attempted and failed to have a good night--some wack ass move. Anyway, it was all a blur, and I said some rude drunk narcissistic shit to Michelle last night, and now she’s mad at me and I’m sick of rolling over and feeling like I’m the Worst Friend And Person In The World but she’s a very stubborn and self-assured person. Admittedly, in many ways, a better person than me overall, but I don’t know. You gotta balance apologizing and self reflecting and taking blame and like hating yourself more because your friends make you feel like you’re the worst out of everyone you know. It’s also pretty lonely without a phone, and I can’t really communicate with many people unless they actively want to. Or I do. So it’s been a little lonely. I’ve stayed pretty busy with all these things that I have to do and get ready for, so it’s honestly been pretty good since we got back from spring break, but today I just feel like shit and a bad friend and self obsessed and just down. And very, very lonely. Hopefully I can turn this day around. Briana’s a good friend, and hopefully we go out and have a good night. We only have so many of those left, since I’ll most definitely be back in Percussionville come May 15th. Lauren, probably my best friend at this point, will just fall off the already empty and thin grid of my life to spend copious and extended periods of time with her boyfriend who’s not her boyfriend, and Jose is in the Michelle Corner right now, so I don’t know. It’s good to be alone sometimes though. Did I watch too much Netflix today? Yes. Did I shower? No. Is yesterday pretty hazy? Yeah. But I’m trying to #thrive.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Thanksgiving and Australian Men

A lot has happened the past few weeks, so much I don’t even know if I can write it, but right now I’m so content and enjoying life that I just had to. I’m lying under a palm tree looking at the Golden Gate Bridge listening to a playlist with the same title as this post, wearing last night’s clothes, smoking a cigarette, in a beautiful park. Last night I fucked a gorgeous Australian and had my first successful Tinder experience, since everything before has been basically a failure, even the one time I used it for dick. Also, he’s like 22 or 23 or something, so he’s a whole ass man who got me breakfast and coffee in the morning after a morning fuck, and we had good ass conversation and even a good Tinder messages conversation. Let’s hope he doesn’t ruin it. It’s a cute lil Thanksgiving weekend fling. We might hang out tonight or something, we’ll see. I sorta like him, actually. Life is beautiful. Not often or perpetually, but right now in this moment, life is very, very beautiful.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

A week of bullshit

Damn, life really has been coming at me fast recently. This whole last week has been WILD. I’ve quite literally been drunk every night for a week. It all started a week ago, last Monday. Me and Briana were doing a normal, run of the mill, Croads sesh. I ran into Gina, Felix, and Jae (Gina’s room mate), and they invite me to sit with them, but homegirl’s busy with Briana so I hang for a second, mentioned to Gina how I stopped by her room the other day to say hi but she wasn’t there, and went back to hang with Briana. Then, as me and Bri are jammin to Mariah Carey by the dish racks, Gina, Felix, and company roll up to put their dishes away and join us temporarily in the jam. Then, Felix goes, “Why didn’t you stop by my room?”, referencing how I had tried to stop by Gina’s. He THEN proceeds to invite me to his room that night for a “party”. Of COURSE, me and Briana show up like an hour later to his room. It was Felix, his hot tall Connecticut friend named Will, Jae, and Gina, and we’re all just chilling to music. Felix was being a lil weird, him and his friend were sorta just in deep discussion together with no explanation, and they soon kicked us out, claiming we would link up again at 10:30 to drink Four Lokos. Apparently Four Loko Monday is a regular occurrence on floor 2. When he said “party” I didn’t LITERALLY know he meant PARTY. Anyways, we chill in Gina’s for a while, then he comes back with the Lokos, and we have a great time getting drunk in Gina’s room. Anders, this INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE Wasian on the lacrosse team that basically every girl in Unit 2 is obsessed with and whom everyone has basically just assumed at this point is completely unattainable, comes to join us cuz I guess him, Gina, and Anders are best friends or whatever. We follow each other on Instagram so I KNOW he recognized me, but this was our official formal introduction. He’s pretty shy and lowkey and introverted so whatever. I’ve seen him at a few rapey frat parties because, as afore mentioned, his friends are all fellow lax bros and lax bros are attracted to rapey/racist frat culture (Fiji, SAE, DKE, etc.). But that’s besides the point, for now. Anyway… my plan was just to Uber from Unit 2 at the end of the night cuz, at the time, a bitch could afford it. But Felix literally offered to walk me back at like 3 am so he just walked me back with his SKATEBOARD in hand. But that was whatever.

Ok, next night: me, Briana, Leah, Ariel, and Luna decide to get drunk on Leah’s balcony on floor 1, and low and behold, Felix lives DIRECTLY above her. So he hears us and peeps his head in, Anders in present company, and he fucking SPIDERMANS down from the god damn WINDOW onto the balcony. I deadass thought he would die. Then Gina came down to hang and drink with us, and Felix and Anders skateboarded away to smoke in the parking garage. I can’t really tell you much else about that experience except for that it was indeed an experience. I actually don’t know how I got home that night, now that I think about it.

Anyway, next up… Wine Wednesday. Boy was it a rough one. It’s Wine Wednesday today, incidentally, so I can’t really remember much from last week. I know we went to DKE, the one where I hooked up with a Trump supporter and also the one where Mohammed, the love of Leah’s life, is pledging. One time we went there and literally witnessed some minor hazing and forced binge drinking. Saw a poor fucker completely blacked and passed the fuck out being dragged up the stairs by like four guys in a conjuncted effort, one of them being Mohammed. Anyway, I know we started at DKE… went to Sig Chi… came back to DKE… lost Ariel and Luna at some point, and ended up with this girl I know who loves Sig Nu a little too much. So the two of us went to Delta Chi, got her scratch patched up by the brothers there (lmao), checked out a very empty Sig Nu, then ended up back at DKE…. Long night. Definitely blacked. And I basically just woke up in Avery’s bed in Rocky’s room with very little context. Then me and Julia, both having woken up still drunk in Phi Psi mens’ beds, with very different contexts at that point, decided to get breakfast and coffee in a late birthday celebration before my work shift. And that was actually a really good Potle sesh for me. Flirted with hella guys, got flirted with, finessed… good shit. There’s some longer record of the whole incident somewhere in my screenshots. But anyway, decent day. I guess at this point we’re at Thursday, so…

Thursday. Briana’s AXO date party night, where srats hold parties at various clubs in SF, bus us there in nice ass party buses, and I pay absolutely nothing to participate in them. I love being a GDI (god damn independent). It started out pretty stressful, since Briana gets a little crazy with being on time, staying on schedule, sticking to the plan, etc. This was a fun, somewhat eventful night, and I’ve made good progress on the whole week’s shenanigans, but alas, I have to go right now to get Potle while Leah’s working (a bitch tried it for the first time yesterday and the chicken is too god damn good), then get ready for a Chi Phi philo event that our friend Rory invited us to at Croads today, in which we watch pledges and brothers auction themselves off to us women atop a stripper pole as we lightly objectify them and pay for their company. Good shit. Anyway, that’s tonight’s shenanigans. Still gotta finish Thursday’s date party and aftermath, all of Friday (Whomsty and Whomstders), Saturday (Sig Nu disasters), Sunday (hall association), Monday (dick), and yesterday (a combination of Unit 2 shenanigans and hall association dick). So that’s my next big thing. Oh, and Briana’s birthday is on Friday so a bitch has to make her some art.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Don’t forget to drink water, get sunlight, and that we are basically a house plant with complicated feelings.

[scorpioslut-blog1]

[scorpioslut-blog1]

[scorpioslut-blog1]

A sticker found on the way to the Ljubljana train station

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Nineteen

Not to be morbit but I’m nineteen, in college, separated from my family and culture, and sorta sad boiz. I had a GWS midterm due at midnight, and of course I got caught the fuck up in Mongolian music videos and thinking about how I’m progressively losing my culture, how there’s no family or community to keep that part of my identity alive, and how I’m American trash. Oh, and my birthday was two days ago. It was okay I guess. And I went to LA last weekend and that was also okay. Basically, everything sucks. Oh, and I work at Chipotle which I literally dread so hard so that’ll either get easier or I’ll fucking quit. The good news is that I now have birthday money, and I haven’t been to Crossroads in years. But honestly, after a shitty weekend in L.A. with people that aren’t my best friends and staying at UCLA with also people that aren’t my best friends, I was just comforted by all the familiarity offered by being back in Berkeley. My floormates, random people I know, obviously all my best friends, passing Crossroads, walking to class, Greek Row, I missed it all. And I spent my whole birthday in San Francisco, with Leah and my dad and Eve and Michelle, so it didn’t feel fully home or birthday or anything. It was sort of weird. This sort of in-between from college life and friends and home life and family. I don’t fucking know. I guess it was a good birthday. Comforting, I guess? My little brother made this incredible 30-minute film of all these old tapes of me being born and the first five years of my life. It was actually fucking adorable and I cried so hard. Shit made me miss my family so much. So since my birthday I’ve just been hella missing my family, after a weekend of missing Berkeley and my best friends, and today, I went to Tugi’s Mongolian Cuisine and got all in my feels watching those good old Kiwi music videos and eating khuushuur. So now I’m just thinking about all this loss and separation. Also, this Saturday is CKC, and it’s my first time missing it literally ever in my eighteen years of life (nineteen I guess), and it’s got me fucked up. Like back home, I had these Mongolian community events, parties, shit I went to that none of the other teenagers did ‘cause they had better stuff to do or just stayed home. But I really appreciated that shit. It kept me connected to the community, the culture, the people, and now I’m literally assimilated American trash. I don’t even fucking listen to Mongolian music. No family, don’t eat Mongolian food, no Mongolian people around me, just a fucking tattoo and the occasional Oakland Mongolian cuisine. Where the fuck are the Mongolians at?!? I’m in the Bay, supposed to be filled with hella Mongolians, and I’m out here going to frat parties with caucasians. Not that those two things are directly tied as two relating problems, but I’ve just been fucked up by everything. And I don’t do art anymore. Granted, I don’t have time, and I’m always doing stuff or partying or studying or sleeping, but I really feel like so much of me is dying. There’s so much nostalgia. I guess it’s ‘cause it’s my last teenage year, and I’m so much of an adult, but I was literally just a full ass kid three months ago. I just really miss home. I know I’ll be there in like a month and a half, and I love Berkeley,  but I really just miss my mom and my brothers and feeling Mongolian and a part of something. Maybe I’m just lost in this huge ass university where everything’s so unpersonal and you can occasionally feel alone despite the fact that you are literally always surrounded by people. I guess I’m lonely and depressed as usual, I don’t know. I just want like a Mongolian husband and maybe babies or I want to be home being a child, maybe I’m sick of this in-between shit where you do all this adult shit and drink and fuck and smoke all the damn time but have no comforts of family or childhood or security and we’re all just children doing adult things. Mainly, it just hit how much I’ve lost since I got here and how much my life has changed. Even hanging out with my dad is so different. It’s so temporary, and it just feels so strange. It’s weird being in a car with him driving through Berkeley and seeing all these young people and students out and about outside while I’m with my literal family member, it feels like they belong to two very separate and isolated worlds. Whole shit’s got me fucked up. I really want to just watch these Mongolian music videos and make some art, I don’t fucking know man. Or watch some Stranger Things. I’m literally never alone but I’m constantly alone. I don’t know. I’m gonna go back to my room and do something. Then go to work tomorrow or whatever.