The polo match went really well today. I scored a few goals, and rode some horses that I’ve never been on before (and liked them!). No Tink, and no Paloma, but STILL so much fun, and I actually noticed how much I’ve improved.
Rode Tink yesterday. Decided something (sorry to be vague, but just know that it’s a good thing). And just watched my fAVorite King of the Hill episode (“that’s my purse!”).
All is right with the world.
Last weekend was great. The one that just ended was not. Which is weird, considering what events actually took place.
For example, last weekend comprised of: a party with very few people I knew one night, and staying in and watching movies (by myself) the next. This weekend included: a night of hanging out briefly with the roommate, then a casual meet-up with friends, then a dance party, and then a night of catchphrase and karaoke with friends and on to a frat party.
At face value, I would have, hands down, picked weekend #2. But I didn’t have fun this weekend. I got anxious and teary-eyed and too drunk. Last week I feigned confidence, and actually had a good time. I socialized with people who didn’t know my (lack of) romantic history and was dancing so much that I didn’t get the chance to try and drink away my feelings of awkwardness. This weekend, I wanted to have the same sort of good time, but with my actual friends. And I failed. Because I drank too much, evidently. And that’s the worst thing about it, really. Because I didn’t feel like I was that far-gone either night, but I heard the following mornings that I was. Because my perspective is apparently skewed. If my feeling-fine is actually sloppy-messed-up, then I think I need to take a bit of a break from the booze.
I’m obviously going to lay off the alcohol for a bit, but part of me also thinks that I should lay off my friends as well - that I should hang out with other people. Make new friends. Try to create relationships outside of my small social circle.
… I wish that I were a boy.
Because I love:
A friend called me beautiful and smart tonight (though, to be fair, she was pretty trashed). But why did that make me more sad then if she had called me ugly or stupid? Why do compliments make me want to cry? And fight?
Also: I will not blame the fact that he doesn’t like me on the (supposed) facts that I am:
- too fat
- not smart enough
- too acne-ridden
- too ordinary
- too amply-chested (more on this later).
But I will be strong when I see him this Sunday.
I will not:
- Be sad that he doesn’t like me (or act like I am, anyway).
- Let my feelings for him mess up our friendship.
- Be awkward.
On a completely unrelated note, my back/shoulders/neck are Killing Me. And I don’t know why. I’m not sure I should go to polo today (which is a silly thing to ask, really. It would probably be out of the question for any normal person who didn’t use polo as a cathartic experience. However,….)
That is all.
The classes I took today were Awesome:
- Italian 202 (different instructor this semester, and his is buffissimo! (really funny)).
- Black English (for realz - this is a linguistic class, and, so far, is entertaining AND fascinating)
- Ingres Seminar (magically, it turns out my interests in Ancient Greek art and Renaissance art are actually RELEVANT when it comes to studying this particular 19th c. French dude).
AND I got into the Advanced Fiction Writing Workshop!
AND I got to ride Tinkerbelle.
Best Day Ever.
I was just at the polo barn for four hours. I rode three horses (none my all-time faves, but great horses: Sarah (haha, yeah there’s a horse named Sarah, and yeah the coach had me ride her), Giatita, and Batman). I feel cleansed, and the good kind of sore.
I’m going to try going to the gym to do a little cardio tomorrow during the day, then polo starts up for realz for realz at 3.30. Hallelujah.
That’s it, really. Just needed to get that out there.
Status on New Year’s Res’s: so far… diary is being kept. No pictures.
Feeling like I look like a fourty-five year old, and freaking out about it. (You see… there was this waiter… and it’s a long story).
Can’t wait to go ride the ponies at the good ole’ polo barn, but not particularly looking forward to starting up classes/social interactions again.
Feeling very full (like my eyes are just going to burst… does anyone else ever have that feeling?) but I’ve got no space in this house to cry it out. I guess I know what I’ll be doing this car-ride back to school. At least I’m not giving anyone else a ride.
All the things I ran away from/ignored during the break have started to hit me again.
And I’m worried about my course-load next semester, for once.
And I’m breaking out like a fifteen-year-old-boy.
But I’m trying, trying to stay positive. To just think about Tinkerbell, Sparkle, Kamikaze, and Paloma. Trying to think about riding and losing this weight - both physical and emotional - I’ve seemed to gain these past few weeks. Trying to remember that I’ve felt good at school, felt pretty, and even felt loved. Trying to believe that I can feel that way again.
I feel so old, and so naive, all at the same time.
1. Stop leaving the party early. (Or, in other words, stick it out and sleep when you’re dead).
2. Eat slowly, and only until you’re full.
3. Say what you feel, or at least write it down.
4. Along those lines, keep a journal… maybe here? … and write in it every day, even in times of crisis.
5. When you drink, don’t cry.
6. Talk to friends more, even if it’s just to call and say hello. Especially friends who aren’t in a 5 mi. radius of you.
7. Freak out less about being alone. And stop blaming it on how you look.
8. TAKE MORE PICTURES. Put the camera back in your purse. It’s not that much heavier. wimp. (Also, try to carry your purse on your left shoulder some of the time. You’ll end up crooked).
Let’s see if I can keep these!