OWNER OF A LONELY HEART

MUCH BETTER THAN A
OWNER OF A BROKEN HEART

It's all out there and I want it back. Now that you know, the pain just digs so much deeper. Is it guilt? Self pity? WHAT?? I don't know what to do.

Come to think of it, I can't believe that song's lyrics have defied this page so long. Remember all those times shit like this has come up and I've said something to the effect of "I feel like I'm missing a really obvious joke"? Well, I think I know what that really obvious joke is now. Yes lyrics, of course.
And they are a joke (burn, Yes)

We're utterly stuck, unable to grant each others wishes. Both in pain, and helpless to change it. *sigh*... what are we going to do?...

Like dust in the wind, dude.
Deeeeeeep.

You're finally feeling what I've been feeling for a year now. I wish I could take away that hurt, because it's killing me to know that it's killing you. You love her... I know that. I have known that. However... "That doesn't mean I don't have feelings for you... but..." Wait... what??... Stop. You can't be serious... "I almost kissed you once you know." No... it's not true. It's not fucking true...

Shiiiiit. What are we talking about, again?

"I don't want to break her heart." he says, "Everyone gets their heart broken..." "But I don't want to be that guy..." You wanna know something?... You don't have to be dating someone to break their heart... you are that guy... whether you realize it or not.

Oh man it reads like the script to FFXIII suddenly.
I WILL PROTECT YOU, SERA
Jesus shit it's like 57 thousand hours in can we please move on?
"COME ON, THEN," says Australia (can't be bothered to remember names), "WE'RE ALL TOGETHER!" (cute laugh noise) OH MY GOOOOD THIS GAME, MAN. THIS FUCKING GAME.
I should have knooooown I was in for some shit when the theme song was sung by LEONA LEWIS. WHO IS THAT? I DON'T KNOW, BUT I DON'T LIKE THE CUT OF HER GIB.
Sorry she's bitching about something (boy trouble, presumably) and I had a meltdown about Final Fantasy.

College. Work. Love. Faith. Friends. It's all a jumbled piece of mixed up garbage that's currently going through the trash compactor of my soul, waiting to be spit out into a nice neat little cube of something managable that I can toss over a fucking cliff.

The world's most tortured metaphor, Jesus Christ.

Of course, I don't really have any enemies either, but you get the point. No one should have to suffer through my psychological nonsense. I mean look at this crap. What am I even saying?

I don't know, that's what I was asking you.
If you don't even know we're in some shit.

All the tiny pieces of her... one by one, they die. And like a hurricane of corpses, the whirlwind created by the lost souls finally settle at the bottom of her being.

Someone just finished reading Dante's Inferno.

There, they sit. They wait. She wonders if anyone will ever pick them up, if not out of pity, then perhaps curiosity, like a child who cradles something in their hand that they do not understand.

...
Sorry I started reading The Inferno.
Just came to my favorite part.
Well not my favorite part, but a good part:

and I began: 'Francesca, your torments
make me weep for grief and pity,
'but tell me, in that season of sweet sighs,
how and by what signs did Love
acquaint you with your hesitant desires?'
And she to me: 'There is no greater sorrow
than to recall our time of joy
in wretchedness --

I was going to quote the part where the people are trapped in the whirlwind but I decided that part was cooler.

Why is it that the only thing I ever get for Christmas is a fucking broken heart. The only fear in life that I have has been confirmed, and I'm utterly useless now... and right before finals. Great.

Ah, it's always the existential questions that undo us.
See I can write epic lines too.
I don't think that's the right meter, come to think of it. Oh well, poetry.

Now all I have to do is sit here and let my wounded heart fester in my stomach. Maybe if I throw up, I can just throw it away and be done with it... damn thing is useless when you're alone anyway...

I don't think your heart is in your stomach. It has admittedly been a while since I've studied anatomy, but I'm almost positive your heart resides somewhere in your chest.

The experience also made me reflect on my own childhood, and I remebered that I would never "play" if there was someone else in the room, unless I was playing with them. If someone entered the room, I immediately stopped what I was doing, sometimes even trying to hide my toys from their eyes. Why? What was I afraid of?

Here's another good part:

Cerberus, fierce and monstrous beast,
barks from three gullets like a dog
over the people underneath that muck.
His eyes are red, his beard a greasy black,
his belly swollen. With his taloned hands
he claws the spirits, flays and quarters them.

Oh yeah, this bullshit. Sorry.
Giant worm Cerberus is pretty cool, though.
Now I've read and copied about five lines, read them, reread them and realize I have absolutely nothing to say about it. I'm not sure what to say to you, Sarcasticmuse23 (oi).

I realized something today. I want someone who's dangerous. Not dangerous like, date a serial killer. Dangerous for me, for my well being.

Translation: I want a guy who treats me like shit.
Good work, though. Come to this conclusion all by yourself, did you?

Maybe... spiritually challenging, would be better terminology. Anyway, I mean, I knew that already, but I think I realized why.

Spiritually challenging? Like, what, someone who calls your beliefs stupid?
Because I'd be willing to do that, shit.

Because being with somebody dangerous means there's a chance I'll get hurt. A chance for pain. GOD, why am I so self destructive??

You know what this blog needs (besides to go away)? Some nice, sugary pop music. Some stupid nothing in the background to balance out the MELODRAMA.

What I want most is always something I'll never have. You stupid emotional masochist. Why is "happy" so revolting? Hope so inconceivable?

Hooooo me. Big yawn.
Uhhh--Oh, story time:

"She slumped further into herself, as the weight of her mood drug her down, deeper and deeper, until she was almost drowning in her own thick aura. The utter heaviness of her heart made breathing difficult, and unnecessary. Despair was not with her, but left her lonely in front of her keyboard, begging for words that would not come.

Hold, I must recompose myself.
Wow, I seem to have forgotten how to read after that.

Anyway, basically, I feel like shit. Which is depressing, because I thought this would make me a lot happier. I don't even know who I am anymore.

I always love it when people say shit like that. I DON'T KNOW WHO I AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! My natural instinct when I hear that is to hit them on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. STOP THAT. BAD.
Well this entry has already dragged on far too long, but with a picture of Godzilla and lines from Dante's Inferno I feel it's sufficiently awesome now.

ಠ_ಠ

Well I solved the great mystery of "what the fuck happened to the sections on Livejournal?" If one registers (ugh), clicks on the "communities" section, then clicks on the teeny tiny "life" section barely visible above the search bar, one is then free to browse this high quality content after watching a brief (30 second) commercial.
Goooooooood.
But it was all worth it, because I found this fascinating romp into pretentiousness.
Today I'm going to have a little contest with myself. I'm not allowed to say "cool story, bro" and the second I want to default to that response the entry ends.

All of my favorite characters-- in literature, in history-- are hard-headed women who are completely unafraid to speak their mind, who are sure of themselves and are correct to be so confident. I call these women "badass" and their badassery intrigues me to no end.

Cool story br-- FUCK. One more time, okay. That was a practice run.
Uhhh--
Uhh--

-Scarlett O'Hara (Gone with the Wind, as always my first and foremost fictional fascination) (WIN for alliteration!) (WIN for rhyming!)
-Dominique Francon (The Fountainhead)
-Joan of Arc-Cleopatra
-Paulina (The Winter's Tale)
-Hermione (The Winter's Tale)-Melisande Shahrizai (Kushiel's Legacy series)
-Eva Peron

That's funny. All my favorite characters in literature never whine once.
I guess Joan of Arc didn't (except when she was getting burned to death, but I think she's within her rights at that point). Other than her, though, fuck this list.
Also I'm amazed you stayed awake through The Winter's Tale. Well, not entirely, since it's boring and you're a bore so you have a lot in common, but I know personally I entered a twilight coma to get through it.
Fuck pastorals.THAT'S ONE OF SHAKESPEARE'S PROBLEM PLAYS BECAUSE IT'S REALLY DRAMATIC--
Great, don't give a shit.

I admire their badassery and I aspire to it, to varying degrees depending on the character in question. For each of these women, I want to be them, at least a little bit. That is one of the reasons I will propose Winter's Tale, because it has a high concentration of the kind of badassery I so love.

Don't you have to do something to be badass? I always thought so, anyway. Like when Kenshiro punches people and their heads explode and he doesn't whine once during it. Sort of like that.
You know then a guy asks for mercy and he says something like "you gave none, so none shall you receive," and then the guy's already dead.
What'd Scarlet O'Hara do, exactly? I don't honestly know, having never read the book and I fell asleep during the movie (watched it in school, so I was killing like five birds with one stone by falling asleep).

I have been pondering something which is VERY exciting to me. So I am going to share my ponderings :)

Great.Can't wait!

Last semester I was pondering proposing a show. Pericles, Prince of Tyre, to be exact.

Sounds pretty-- Zzzzzzzz.

Winter's Tale lends itself VERY well to a fairy-tale motif, somewhat more so in the second part of the play, which takes place in mainly in Bohemia.

DE COLOHRLESS GRAY FOHG SWEPT EHCROSS BOLETARIA
No, wait, that's Demon's Souls.
Also good work, Demon's Souls. Wouldn't "gray fog" by definition be colorless?
Whatever.

I'm not sure yet precisely what I want to do with these elements, from a design perspective; but I love them so very, very, very much, and I've been thinking about it near-constantly for the past couple of days.

Wow you're really boring.

My antisocial-ness springs from laziness most of the time, or from feeling a lack of interestingness; and then because I am feeling this way, being antisocial perpetuates my feeling uninteresting, and creates in me a sense of being adrift.

Ooph, that was a lot of douchiness to take at once.
Hold on, feeling a little winded after that.
Okay, proceed.

So last night, Walter and Charlotte and I went to see the Vagina Monologues.

Oh? How much were they paying you?
Goddamn, leave it to these high-minded pretentious assholes to make vaginas boring.
I didn't think that was physically possible, but I guess true douchebaggery reigns.

I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak, on my study abroad application for quite some time now.

Oh where are you headed?I would bet it's either England or France.
Probably England.

I have been waiting to go to Argentina for literally my entire life.

Oh.Didn't see that one coming, anyway.

And this morning, during yoga, the idea hit me that I might not get approval...

During Yoga huh huh lllllllllllllllllllllll

Which isn't to say that I didn't fit into the homogeneity; after all, I am Jewish and I look it.

Ah that means your mom is Jewish.
Only goes matrilineally, don't you know.

This morning in Econ Stats, I experienced a thought of such profound geekitude that I just had to share it:

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen" is Antony's construction of a 99% confidence interval to test the null hypotheses that Caesar was ambitious, and that Brutus is an honorable man.

Hold on, hold on:

For those of you who don't speak statistics: the null hypothesis is a claim that you make about a given population, which you hope to reject after you construct a confidence interval.

Yes, surprisingly I, too, had to sit through elementary statistics as well.

a 99% confidence interval will be more accurate than a 95% interval.

Good, good, keep it coming. I have aaaaaaaaaaaaaaall day.

Today I was productive. It was like a great switch turned on in my brain (with particular respect to microeconomics) and I could figure out the problem set I've been puzzling over for days now.

Cool story br--Ah fuck, I guess that's it, then.
Oh well. I had a good run, one false start notwithstanding.
In fact, I'm going so far as to give myself the Chef Excellence stamp of approval: