this year

has been really hard for me.

college is weird, and full of fascinating things like meal cards. I really don't know why I chose that example, my school doesn't use meal cards.

What I'm hear to talk about, though, is teen girl stuff, of which I know a lot about.

So far in college I haven't had any romantic/explicit encounters. Or any normal encounters, haha, I make it sound like its only one or the other. WOW IT IS TWO AM AND I REALLY DONT KNOW WHAT IM SAYING okay catie calm down, re think this and then type it out:

what I want to write about tonight is how love-dreaming and teen-fantasizing doesn't end in high school. it goes on and on and its really quite nice actually. I like living in my head and pretending things and dreaming about people I hardly know. which sounds creepy, and maybe it is, but I don't care. it makes for great art, and art is what I live for.

I've been listening to a lot of Mason Jennings and if you listen to Mason Jennings you know he's a very intense guy with a lot of feelings and a lot of things to say, but at the same time you know he's really chill and you could get along with him quite well but for some reason, although you've seen two of his small shows, you haven't met him

-exhale-

I haven't had any college hook-up encounters. None whatsoever, which is quite refreshing, but a little disenchanting as well. I was really hoping for an indie hipster to become my artistic soulmate.

I think it's truly amazing that I could be this great, far-off thing that I dream to be: an artist, a filmmaker, an actress, a writer, a musician, someone who puts together tight-ass outfits. Balls. I would be so happy if I could be successful in my pursuit of artist endeavors.

Thank you, Mason Jennings for the service you have provided me.

Suicide is a weird thing. When I tell people my dad died, I still feel like I haven't disclosed the full story. Like I'm hiding something. Something that cuts so deep that I can only speak it aloud at certain times, at certain moments given to me. I spend so much time thinking about death and life and love, and SUICIDE, that I have a hard time relating to other people I'm meeting right now. Or my friends, which is just ridiculously unfair. I went to a movie tonight: Bigger than Life by Nicholas Ray. It was incredible, ahead of its time, but the dad goes crazy and becomes convinced he has to kill his son and himself. By the time the lights came back up I was wiping tears from my eyes.

My roommate's gone for the weekend and it's so nice- just because I'll get the chance to cry without worrying about waking her up! Used Kleenex and more Mason Jennings await me. Maybe I'll even listen to new music. More than anything, what sounds the most appetizing is staying inside, drawing and writing all weekend. Fuck yeah.

Of course, I'll end up going out just to escape everything that's banging around in my brain.

Back to the idea that with my roommate gone, I can cry- that's the weird thing about college. If you have a bad day and need to bawl, there's a 99% chance that someone will witness it, and ask about it if they're a nice person. And when you're crying, you don't want to have to explain anything to anyone, you just want to get it all out. I guess I just need to find a place to cry, and a place to be myself.