boo boo bop.

What will he be responsible for this time? Hello my piano.

I thought I was doing something. Now I'm just knee deep in some things.


Lots of things that didn't make sense, do. Most things that did make sense, don't.


But, I do have a laser for my cat. And that makes everything a little better.


I aced an exam in a class I don't attend.


I have no idea what I want. Ever.

I feel like a hollowed old tree with ghosts sleeping inside.

I'M BACK.

I wrote and recorded a test song on Saturday. It's the first recording I've ever done solo, and I refuse to discount it based on the fact that I wrote and then recorded it with garage band in an hour. The piano sounds distant because I had to put my laptop across the room in order to mask the sound of my fingers tapping the plastic keys. The vocals are a bit flat in places, but all in all, I'm pretty happy with it. Once shown, two people ignored it, one gave positive feedback, and another may not have found it sitting in their inbox, waiting to be heard. So that's two bad responses (silence isn't encouraging), one very good, and one has yet to be determined. If it turns up roses, it'll be the metaphor of the century.


School is almost out for the semester. Five more weeks. It's sort of scary. Next semester I'm totally booked, but I'm so looking forward to summer that I don't care. I'm doing an internship and taking a Scriptwriting II Independent Study. By the end of the summer, I'll have written a full length film. 90-120 minutes. I've already started planning it, which is weird because I'm the most wonderful procrastinator. I'm doing it now in fact. I have a peer critique due at midnight and I'm not nearly finished. I'm actually putting it off because I can't find anything bad to say about two of my group members. We have to suggest improvements, but I honestly think that they did such a great job, I can't think of anything. It's not because they are my new awesome campus friends, but because they worked really hard. Anyway. I didn't put much stock in my Scriptwriting I course because I am an animation major. I was only taking this course because it was required. But things changed. My professor loves me and so does the class? Totally weird. Someone wants to make my short film that I'm not even finished writing. My professor was more than excited when I asked him to advise my independent study. I've always loved writing, but never found a medium that fit with me. Until now, I guess. This is the first thing that I've ever done in school that has received this kind of feedback. Two of my professors are really pushing me to apply for a writing and page internship at NBC.

This is the first time in my life that I'm doing things ALONE. I've always been afraid to show my independent work to anyone. Writings, unless connected to other people or chronicling a memory, were hidden from anyone with eyes. Songs, unless drunkenly brought to a group and changed, were played only to the cats.

I'm not trying to say, "Look at me, I'm amazing." I'm really asking, "When the fuck did I get so gutsy and why?" Just the thought of it is making me nervous.

Also, I'm moving! In August. For reals.

I'm writing an album.

I'm recording it this Christmas.



I've never done anything on my own like this before. I've written songs from start to finish, but they were brought to a group of people who would add and subtract the good and bad. I think I really need this. The idea of performing alone scares me to death. This also needs to be remedied. Not that I'd want to play shows or anything, but I can't even bring myself to play any of new songs for anyone. But I love recording, and I've recorded, played, performed, and written with Jef before.

I feel like I have too much going on inside my head and if I don't get it out somehow I will most certainly die. Or at least keep having random meltdowns. Or continue to stay awake at night writing lyrics to songs I haven't written, then promptly forget them when I wake up. There's no other option, write an album.

So far my songs are basically, somehow, MORE girly Son and Heir songs, but without smelly boys backing me up. I'm sure I'll find some smelly boys to help me round out the tracks, but I will have complete control. Which is something I've never had before. I've always been too scared to actually direct people around my song. They always direct me.

2010 will be a fresh start. Newly purged mental mess. New semester. New degree. New drinking abilities. And apparently, a new album.

It's official. My life MUST belong to someone else. I have this really great apartment. It's clean and cute and it feels like home. I have two cats running around that like to bite each other instead of me. I'm graduating in May. How did I stay on course long enough for that to happen? I'm in phase 3 of sobriety court. It's like I'm barely in the program at all. I have actual realistic plans to go to graduate school in Chicago. I might get out of this city after all. Also! I have somehow acquired the perfect boyfriend.

I know this is my life, but I just don't identify with it yet. Everything has changed. The only thing that has carried over from my previous existence is Fitz. And he's a cat. The change is all for the better, the best actually, but it doesn't feel like me yet. I don't see any of the people I used to know, and I don't know any of the people I'm seeing now. I'm the new girl in every situation. The very sober new girl. Maybe I'm just horrible at making friends. It's just weird to go from being around friends you've known for years and years and years to people you don't know. I just find that I'm very quiet a majority of the time. Quiet is not a word that generally describes me. In fact, loud and obnoxious was more up my alley. But now I have nothing to say.

I'd really hate to think that this is because I'm sober and other people are not.

I find myself missing things from then because they are familiar. Not because I actually miss them. I don't miss my apartment on Lake Drive because it was a great apartment. It was just MY apartment. I KNOW that place. It's not new and unfamiliar. It's old and gross and mine. I obviously miss Kelly, but when we talk on the phone the familiarity that comes with the conversation is insane. It's like someone's flipped a switch and my voice is back. I have a million things to say. I feel bad for her. She calls and it's Collin unleashed. Weeks of words come rushing out of me. She probably thinks I'm the worst listener ever.

It's pretty sad that happiness throws me into a funk.

I also have the worst viral respiratory infection monster cold ever. I've lovingly given it to Sean. This way he wants to stay on the couch with me in joint recovery. I've been out of school for over a week. If it weren't for Gilmore Girls and the cat party, I'd be more upset about this.

I'm pretty convinced that it's not my fault that you're a total asshole.

I used to think it was my fault. That I caused it. Turns out this is what is referred to as "manipulation". Huh.





GVSU fucked me this morning. I'm hearing things at 5 am that aren't true. My mother's driving (ha, get it?) my life. I have to go to the BOB and bar hop around Ionia tonight. I'm unemployed and BORED.

BUT. I get to go camping with Sean and his friends this weekend. The ol' PO gave the oh-kay yesterday. I just realized I need someone to watch my cat. Maybe he will miss me and in turn, be nicer to me? Anyway, I want to go swimming and read on the beach. Hopefully without burning myself so badly that I can't sleep. Or sit. Or move.

THEN! School starts on Monday. As of now, I don't know if I'll be continuing in the Animation program, but worst comes to worst, I'll just get a degree in Communication Studies and hate my life for two semesters. Either way, I'll be able to apply to the same Graduate program I'm looking at in APRIL. So. Whatever.

I'm pretty cynical today. But I'm still happy.

My apartment is amazing. Living alone is the greatest thing in the whole world. Plus, I get a cuddle buddy at night, so I'm not super alone all the time. I'm obviously not talking about Fitz because he would rather chew my face off.


I've been hearing a lot of complaining about "real friends" lately. As in "You're my real friend." Or "I THOUGHT you were my real friend." What the fuck does that even mean? Isn't that a lot like being a favorite friend? Or a nice friend? What the fuck is the difference? Is this an acquaintance vs. friend vs. best friend debate? All my "REAL" friends live across the country, or in other states, or other cities, or I'm a huge jerk and never call them. Does this make them my non-real friends? Because if that's the case then I have NO FRIENDS. WHAT IS A REAL FRIEND AND WHY DON'T I HAVE ONE?! Do I have to give them a bracelet? Or a jacket?

I bought Anna a birthday tiara, beads, bump its, and rum for her birthday. I am her real friend dammit.


I have a handful of friends that like me a bit, a boyfriend who is pretty great, and a cat that relies on me for LIFE. What's the problem?


THIS IS HOW MY BRAIN WORKS TODAY.

I think my piano is making me crazy.