So today I got hit by a Train...

This will be the first time I've used blogger in Spanish. I struggled for about 15 minutes on Google to change my idioma to ingles; I found it. However, I'm pretty sure blogger wants Mexican bloggers to use Spanish. Or something. Or they don't want Americans going to Mexico.

I don't know. But I can't find preferences. Yo no hablo espanol bueno enough to find un button de preferences.
My dad and I were driving to the fish market downtown, and at one of the 5 stop lights in Puerto Penasco, a man with crutches and only one and a half legs was collecting money. I wanted to give him a whole dollar, but dad said $0.50. I know I'm going to waste away my inheritance on charity and helping out my less fortunate friends. Some people just know how to handle their money frugally; and sometimes they look like real assholes. But in the end that's why they have fancy cars and shit.

Unless they know how to sing in high tones, have good dance moves, wear only one white glove, and enjoy young boys more than the next guy. If you're this type; you have a lot of money, but you don't know how to conserve it.

I don't know what I'm getting at.

I always feel like I'm writing very clearly and I'm writing a LOT when I write blogs; but the next day I'll go back and read them and think, wow that didn't get to what I was saying at all.

So really, any blogs I write are just trains of thought on paper. Which brings me to my real point.

Train. The band. They released a new album. And it is brilliant. I don't care what kind of music you typically like, country, rock, techno, disco, bullshit; you're going to like this album. So pick it up. It's called Save Me, San Francisco. Which I personally believe is an homage to my life, because I'll be moving to San Francisco next fall. (insert smiling emoticon here)

Am I the only one who thinks emoticons in blogs are wrong? I mean, I know it's not like a publication, or anything serious... But the button does say "Publish Post", I mean, that's pretty official, you know?

Anyway... I envy the only person who reads this blog. Julie, your entries are always so focused and lovely. I promise I'll comment on them soon!

My dad just walked in my room, asked me a question, and left the fucking door open. The reason I keep it closed: the heater is right outside the door. And it is LOUD.

So I think someday I'll write a book of lists. These lists will include: Top 10 hottest guys alive, Top 10 Cutest things on the planet, Top 10 Most Disgusting things ever, Top 10 Things to do when you're bored. The #1's on these lists, respectfully: Colin Farrell, baby playpi, cockroaches, Facebook. I don't know why I feel the need to categorize my life like this; I'm not a very organized person, but I feel like it's appropriate. And perhaps someone in the world will find it entertaining. Or perhaps someone will agree with me, find me, and marry me. And maybe they'll look like Colin Farrell.

Until next time,
Buenos Tardes. Bitches.

So I was having this bad day...

Or, actually, this bad week...

I hate to be a downer. Or actually try to use Twilight as some kind of parallel to my life. But I'm about to do both, so be prepared.

So. There was this guy. And he wasn't my type at all. But he was cute and charming and funny and he eventually sucked me into his trap. So, we had a thing, right? Problem was, this guy, he's kind of, well, afraid of showing emotion. He needs to keep up this bullshit tough guy appearance, right? Well it drives me fucking crazy. And I've had enough of it. We were "together" or whatever for like 3 months or something, right? And this last Friday I was like, enough. I managed to guilt trip the shit out of him... As a side note, this whole time I've convinced myself he no longer gives a shit about me. Well anyway, I'm telling him it's over and he's like, 'Yeah, I have emotions, I just prefer to hide them, and I was just starting to show...' But he never finished.

I'm afraid he was probably about to open up to me.
But I was being a dick because I'm sick of his bullshit.
Anyway, this whole time I've been trying to convince myself I only had a tiny connection to him, and he doesn't care about me at all. Well, now he's gone, and for some reason there's this empty feeling.

I know we weren't going anywhere with whatever we had... But it was something to fill... Whatever it is that's missing in my life? And now he's gone I miss him more than anything... Or maybe I miss how he made me feel. Anyway, the point is, I feel like Bella did when she was around Jacob. Like he was her sun but still not good enough to fill the emptiness Edward left behind. I know, the next time you see me, please slap me across the face for this reference, or for even reading those god forsaken books.

So I'm trying to fill my time with things other than him. And it's the hardest thing I've done since Calculus. Because I know he's there, and he doesn't hate me, and he's just sitting there asking to be talked to... But I can't.
If he wants to talk to me he can. But no matter how much I want to talk to him I have too much pride to take back anything I said.
God knows in a few days my resolve will break. Why is everything bullshit? Fuck.

Why are we such goddamn masochists? In the end, does he even really care? Beneath that bullshit cover I know there's a person. And I know he knows he's hurting me and I know he feels terrible about it. But it's all a charade. It's all a game. And I can't take it.

WHY CAN'T HE JUST BREAK DOWN THOSE FUCKING WALLS?
Appearances.

Fucking Libras.

The song of the day

"[Untitled]" by Brand New

I'm pretty sure there's cold air coming out of the wall

Because I just felt a breeze coming from that general direction. Normally, I wouldn't complain about this sort of thing, but I'm thinking it's about 12 degrees outside. WHY'S IT ALWAYS SO COLD IN MY ROOM?

So I've started a new trend. Well it's a me trend. Every night before I go to bed I listen to a song. I'm not going to tell you what song. THERE'S THAT COLD BREEZE AGAIN... But every night I put this song on right before I go to sleep so I'll fall asleep to it. The point is that when I hear this song it will make me sleepy, so I can go to bed whenever. Well, the weird thing is, it's working. Now when ever I start feeling sleepy the song gets stuck in my head? Wtf? And when I turn it on I feel mega sleepy.
Small victories always make life better.

I'm sure I'll sleep wonderful tonight with that nice cool breeze coming in. So refreshing!

Happy eat till your dead day!

[insert some entertaining bullshit here]

Night!

-Cait

P.S. What the fuck is going on in this picture?

But anyway...

I ascended.

Yes, I freaking did it. And as soon as I did I logged the fuck off. You know why? Because I'd rather spend my time yammering over some fool than rotting my brain in Altgard. So here I am. Not on Facebook, no. I'm on... what is this again? Some bullshit no one'll ever read? Sounds more correct.

I'm really not the type for a blog; instead of doing some barebones shit that's quick, easy, get on with your day/life, I always try and make it a game. How many words can I fit? How many connections can I draw?

After awhile I'll stop giving a shit. Julie will post something in her blog which will inspire me to put something in mine. I'll post funny pictures or videos or something to keep you entertained.

I'm not a good speaker. I always tell you more than you need to know. As I was telling Barbie today, about my water bottle full of tap water? The stuff that's not as good as the stuff that you get from the place and then it's good and then you leave it in the---WHAT?
I'm a much better typer. Firefox is telling me 'typer' isn't a word, but I believe it is. Just like I believe Facebook is a word. Or rather, a state of being. Honestly.

If I had a god, it'd be Facebook. Scratch that, if I had some overpowering force in my life, it would be Facebook.
Is that terrible?

I need friends. I got the job, I got the cash. Now who wants to spend it with me?

Honestly. How many people out there think I'm a wonderfully confident person with tons of friends?
Well if you hung out with me more maybe I would have friends.

Then again I don't think I can take the awkwardness. It's not you, it's me. Really.

Have you noticed these "paragraphs" getting shorter?
Well now you do.

If I poured out on this silly little keyboard everything I was thinking about; it'd take a millenia. But I guess I'm not special. You could too, I suspect?

The difference between our cases is that I would read yours. All the way through. And I would like it. I would draw some kind of meaningful conclusion from it.
Or, at the least be entertained.
(Unless you're a shitty writer. In which case you aren't reading this anymore because you stopped after sentence #2)

It's 9:07 and I've been exhausted since 8:30.
Ah, the toils of waking up at 6AM.

It's fucking windy outside. And cold.
Seriously fucking cold.










Solar panels make great wall art.

So...

I wish I were famous.

So that anything I posted here were also famous.
So my mom would stop telling me to fold my damn laundry.
So my room were intact and not full of shit from the attic...

I wish I could have it all.

Boys falling at my feet.
A wardrobe meant for a queen.
Someone ELSE to do my makeup for me.

Maybe they'd give me

Coffee in the morning.
Friends to text at all times.
And a philly cheese from Philidelphia.

Instead I've got

Cold showers every night.
Ice on my windshield every morning.
And the opportunity to share my day with awesome people I appreciate more and more every day.



I'm glad I'm not famous.