Feeling Orange But Sometimes Blue

I know I’ve said this about 50 million times. The end of any semester is always the worst. It doesn’t change. People start to get on your nerves, you start craving home, the work piles up, the money runs low, the parties increase, the drinks are cheaper, and the stress is through the roof. Yeah, its always like that. At least for me.

After 3 years and 6 semesters you think I would be better prepared. I’m not. I’m orange and as much as I like to believe the opposite chaos makes me happy. I work better when things aren’t perfect.

OK anyway…I am exactly 3 papers, 1 news article, and 3 exams away from freedom, and when I get back to freedom..it will be time for me to get back on the job search…I’ve applied for a few…been rejected a few times…I’m still keeping my fingers crossed and what not…I won’t be unemployed all summer…I can’t be.. its impossible…I need the money…I really do…and I want a summer fling…not a fuck buddy…I mean I want to date…I just want to break up like Aug 1st…that was a joke…but def before September…Although I’m ready for summer I’m eagerr to get back to school so I can be involved and graduate and enter the real world…this year I’ll be fresh on the internship/scholarship scene and what not…So Hopefully next summer I’ll be in NYC doing all that good stuff…so yeah…the love life at school is over…People may seem perfect until they drink and I get slightly less excited when I see them…and I know my drunk self may not be the most pleasant, but I love it either way…yours not so much…u dirty fondler…and now I’m just rambling to avoid writing this stupid paper…I usually write about emotions and avoid specif situation…not any more..time to divulge the juicy details…or something like that…banana creme pie…lol…someone will get that joke…and they will be my love…until someone else gets one of my jokes I like this”…” i don’t know why. I think I have a complete sentence phobia when I blog…I just like to write…and I use now a lot…and I can’t use commas properly…and Im an English major…is that sad…whatever…I’m working on my craft…or something like that…does my blog title make sense?…I stole that quote from someone…and I like neo-soul but I rarely talk about music…I had a blog before this but I lost the password…it wasn’t as good as this one…just a bunch of my bad poetry…I’ve been getting better…I wonder how many people actually read this on a regular basis? Do people even like this shit?…I like it… I reread this shit and I think I’m fucking DOPE…Does anyone say Dope any more…I feel like I should wear cross colours and jeans with graffiti down the leg before I can say dope…the Great Debaters is a hot movie… I likes the clothes…that was a strange thing to say…John Mayer makes good music…I can study to this shit…and Paramore rocks to…I want more new music…any suggestions?…that will be the test to see if people really read. I want people to read this…I want to know that I’m not that weird and I’m not the only person that feels the way I do…I hope I’m not…but whatever…I wanna eat cook-out…that place is crack…but its open till 3…and its cheap…and they have the best ice…and good straws…i like chewing ice and straws…is that wrong…i wrote about that before…oh yeah and my good friends here are leaving…every time I met someone at school they leave me…why is that?…do I smell???….wheres prudence???…and how much do you have to drink before your a drunk???…and why don’t I have a car??…I wanna get into a fight…like murder someone…I wanna paint…I wanna go to a concert…and a poetry reading…and Australia…and Paris…and Atlantis…Does that exist??…and I don’t want to write this paper…My great uncle died Saturday…and I’m not sad…am I going to hell…I know I’m not but I feel like I should be a little bit sad…I’m not…I’m going to miss the funeral…I don’t like funerals anyway…people cry to much…and I like a good cry sometimes…but crying in front of people is something I just don’t do…all that sharing and caring is to much for me…I’m orange…and blue when I have to be…I had the pee dream last night…I woke up before I soaked my sheets…you know how in your dream u go to the bath room…yeah I was at the toilet and I was trying to wake myself up…and I ran in the nasty dorm bathroom barefooted…hope I didn’t catch anything…I want some Chinese food…and a sub…with oil and mayo and no tomatoes….yum yum..ok I’m done wasting time…if you read comment…if you don’t….well…I don’t know….



Working on my craft,



KD

Words of Wisdom for A. Spain and Friend….

CC: so you haven’t been horney for like 2 weeks?
CC: be honest
AA: o hell naw i been horney since i left u…im horney now
AA: i dance a lot to take my mind off things
CC: doesn’t that increase it
CC: guys rubbing their hard penis on your butt

Throw Me For A Loop

I’m skeptical about everything when it comes to relationships, I’m one of those people who likes to move fast but not to fast, and slow but not to slow. Plus, I hate for people to get all emotionally attached; that’s a huge turn off. I think that if you really missed or cared about me you wouldn’t have to say it constantly through txt messages, I would just know. Right? Notice that I didn’t say anything about LOVE! Any who…What do you do when you meet the person who does all these things right. They call at great times. Leave messages but not to many and avoid all those cliché miss you boo text messages that you hate. I mean its really right, but you still find it hard to trust them. Should I listen to my gut? (Don’t trust them its to perfect) or Am I thinking to much into it? Am I possibly screwing my self out of something I’ve waited for sooo long? What am I to do? If one of my friends were in my same situation I would probably advise them to trust their gut, but for this one I wouldn’t mind being sucker punched by this emotion just to see if this possibility is more than just the end of the semester gotta get some booty blues, and I really get some booty. I think it would be great! It would be great. It would relieve some of this extra stress.



Being myself,



KD

42 St. Happenstance

At first I thought I was crazy. Like I was seeing things that weren’t there…you know those invisible hints that people only ignore when they’re not happening to them…yeah I’m pretty sure that I’m not that crazy. This is happening. I swear it is or God is playing a really cruel and unfunny joke. I know I haven’t slept in like two days but still I am pretty aware. I know that the sun is shinning and I’m breathing. So, this is happening and I don’t even know how to act. Should I smile? Frown? Act indifferent? Can someone please interject and tell me how adults are supposed to act during this “courting process”. This is foreign to me, really foreign, Like I’m lost in Botswana or some other place where English is not the native tongue. Is there no song or story that I can use as a reference… Please someone help. I kind of don’t want to mess whatever this strange sort of there but not there flirting is. I know I will. It’s my curse.


And would it kill some to let me get laid…or at least a lay worth remembering… Please and Thank You…

I cant even explain,

Would-Be Killer

This is the wrong time of year for me to start being lazy. I don’t understand it! I want to go to class and succeed. I just can’t find the strength to get out of bed. I can’t tell you the last time I went to my 8 o’clock class or the one that follows. I really can’t tell you the last time I was there and cared about anything that was going on. Is that bad? I really want to go to class and be the greatness I believe myself to be, but I always leave empty. Like…What am I here for? …Why are the walls crumbling? …Why can I only on focus slightly obscure wall size map of the world? GARBAGE!

I’m hoping my professor doesn’t drop me from the classes. I’m doing well. I would be doing better if I went more often but such is life. I can’t help it if the classes don’t hold my attention. It’s not my fault and I try. I do all the work and still fell indifferent about everything that’s going on inside the classroom. I know it’s not me.

I won’t complain. I have a lot of work to do between now and the end of the semester. I always come out on top. The only question is how much sleep I will lose in the process. If I sleep at all next week it will be by the grace of God, because I know I have my work cut out for me.

Life on the other side of academics isn’t all that great either. The people around me just do the most. I don’t understand it. I can be the first person to admit that I don’t have all the answers. As much as I would like to believe that I do I. I don’t. I can’t force myself to realize other people’s rationale? I can only give you a few examples:

Example 1

If you cheat on your significant other with countless no name lames and then you break up, can you really be mad if they move on? Seriously?

Example 2

If you sleep with every person you meet and try to make them fall in love with you, can you really be mad if they treat you like the whore you portrayed yourself to be?

Again, this is in no way saying that I am perfect when it comes to matters of the heart. I am a self-proclaimed emotional cripple. I can’t sympathize with these people because I would never put myself in situations like this, but can you really expect me to understand where you’re coming from; because if I did understand I don’t think I’m the type of person you should be seeking advice from. But such is life. We live and learn; at least that’s what everyone keeps telling me…



Mr. Responsible,



KD

Death to Mrs. Piggy

This woman. This woman. This woman. She bothers me. I swear she does. The sound of her voice does something disturbing to my soul. Its the kind of voice that makes you want to listen to angry rock music. The kind of music that’s blamed for school shootings. Its the kind of music I hear when ever I hear her, just trench coats and machine guns. I can’t stand it.
I think she likes to pick at me. she knows how much I need this job right now. As horrible as the pay is its my only option for the next two weeks. I swear. I want to curse and scream at the top of my lungs, but I promised myself I would work on not exploding the way I normally do. No big cursing fits. I will be more graceful with my anger. Even though being graceful means being quiet. I wish I could pay someone to punch her in her fat pig face. That requires money that I don’t have. I really want to fight her son. They share the same pig face. That would make me feel better. I know he can’t beat me. All this anger I have built up inside. fighting would be a healthy release. He might put up a good fight. I will still win. I’m going for the kill. Fight Club style. Yeah. I just wish she would go away and do something anything besides get on my fucking nerves. FUCKING PIG FACE LADY MAKING MY LIFE A LIVING HELL.


2 Weeks until my sanity,



KD

An eye for an eye or the reason I cry at the end of the Lion King

I’ll admit that my feelings are way more fragile than they should be for a man my age. Im only 22, still at times I can be way to sensitive. With that being said I work hard to protect my feelings without having much concern for other peoples. I mean I care about other peoples feelings. Im not as cold as I believe myself to be, but in that same breath when my feelings are violated, all bets are off. Its sad I know. I should have better control of myself when Im mad, but I don’t get mad that often. When I get pushed to that point I like to go for the gold. I’ve been known to say and do things that are down right deplorable. Take for instance the events of today.



I start my new job next Friday and I don’t have a car. I live in FUCKING Delaware where public transportation is limited and for me to get to this job that is at most 30 min away, I would have to take a 2 hour bus ride each way. I have a family member that lives in the city, way closer to my new job than I do. To any sane person it would make perfect sense that I stay with them during the week. Not only to make my commute easier but to save money on transportation. I mean I am a struggling college students. I asked this family member if I could stay with them during the week. Of course I didn’t expect to stay for free and compensation would be necessary. I was greeted unpleasantly with a NO. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why this person who I share a deep history of favors with told me no. Especially when in my life I’ve only asked for one favor, and you tell me no. Then the reason I was told no was because their estranged lover was staying with them to help with bills. Then my question became if you need help with bills and Im offering to pay you, then what is the real problem? The house they occupy has substantial room to house all of us peacefully, and I would be gone on the weekend. Long story short I was pissed. I felt all my favors were unappreciated. Im not one to keep track of favors done. If I do someone a favor its because I wanted to, and I did some shit for this person. Im talking writing bad checks, watching their children while they went to get abortions, and let them fuck up my already less than perfect credit score. You tell me No, when all I asked for was a lousy fucking room, when on more than one occasion you have laid your head at my current place of residence. Some people forget where they come from . I was pissed and my feelings were hurt. All that was replied was, “plenty of people from my job commute every day, its only two buses you’ll be alright.” I felt as if they were trying to shit on me! I’m not going for that. Pressed to vent my anger I edited my Facebook status to say something like “Fuck family, your dead to me” which is kind of harsh, but like I said before don’t hurt my feelings. Don’t try and shit on me. Harsh, it was but, feel my pain and get over it.

That then became the catalyst a huge argument (I won. That doesn’t matter, but I did) that was pointless and bitchass because it was done through text message, which is not my style, but is one commonly used by this former relative and said relatives sibling. Whatever. I was then told that me and my mother were talking about them like a dog and I should be sensitive to other peoples living conditions while their working on their relationship. BULLSHIT. Your reason was this worthless ex-convict of a nigga is staying with you for money. Someone sounds like a whore! And maybe the definition of a prostitute has changed over the years but, that’s what you sound like to me . You let this nigga (please excuse my use of the n-word), stay in your house and sleep in your bed so you can get your bills paid. YOU SOUND LIKE A FUCKING HOOKER, WHORE, SLUT, TRAMP, HO ASS BITCH (yes, that was harsh but my feelings are hurt, deal with it). But that’s not even the sad part. You are responsible for two small black boys and what are you really showing them by letting this ho ass ex-convict ass nigga throw you a few dollars and live with you is that its ok to shit on women as long as you have money. Your showing them that its ok to be a grown ass loser and have a girlfriend as long as you throw that bitch a few dollars to keep the lights on. REALLY, and you don’t want you kids a round me. Im not the perfect example of what a black man is or should be but, I am a much better alterative than this loser nigga that you fuck you for groceries. I pray that they look at you and feel sorry for you like I do right now. YOU’RE A HO! And your whoring your self. POINT. BLANK. PERIOD. And you being mad at me because I said your dead to me. Be mad that your whored yourself for some nigga that has no reason to remain faithful to you. This dead beat dad ass nigga. If he doesn’t take care of his own spawns of satin, what makes you think you at the top of the list, believe me when I say pussy in not priceless. So in my eyes you are dead and I don’t mean that in the sense that I hope you die, but I rather not think of you anymore, you are as remembered as dead people and that’s only on their birthday’s and major holidays. I’ll be sure to put a flag on the imaginary grave I have dug for you deep in my subconscious. HAPPY 4th of JULY.



Just a note. I am not always like this. I know I said that like 5 or 6 times. I’m just not one to fuck with, and not only with the words but if need be I’ll clock a bitch or a nigga.



And another thing, the fact that you saw my status without having a Facebook proves that you and your siblings are bitches and haters. I beg you to prove me other wise, because I am posting this with the hopes that you read it and are deeply offended. So offended that, you find the balls to come step to me. I DARE YOU!





Please comment



Am I petty?

Did I go to far?

Should I go farther? (Because I can)

Because sometimes you just gotta act like a nigga,





KD

The Real on Keeping It Real

Its almost 2 o’clock on Sunday morning and Im wondering where my week went, where my sanity went. I talked to a counselor on Wednesday. She asked to many questions. She wanted to peel away my layers. She wanted me to talk. I tried to explain to her that I don’t know how to talk. Im much better at writing and listening. She didn’t care. She saw through my shit. That didn’t stop me from hiding. Im good at hiding. Im not so good at talking. I spent so much of my life not talking. Its hard to learn it now and Im stubborn, you can blame my parents for that. Not talking is my defense mechanism. Its my way of making sure that things always appear to be ok, even when there not. Its only a problem when the stress stacks it self up to the ceiling and the only way out seems to be through a window. I can blame it on the zyrtec. The blue feeling that made my fingers ache but I really need to blame it on me. I need to blame it on my not trusting, and my fear of what’s going to happen next and my fear of hurt feelings and shattered egos. I wish I was a mute. I wish I wasn’t so proud. Then not talking wouldn’t be my tragic flaw. It would only be a disability and my pride would vanish in to the background because I would have to ask for help. I’m very proud, very stuck-up in a lot of ways. These are things about myself that I don’t like to admit. I would also never admit that as comfortable as I am with alone I don’t want to be. Alone would suit me so much better if it were an option but to not be alone is to let people in, to acknowledge that for once I don’t have all the answers, and to be ok with that. I think I need to see the counselor again. I don’t want to. I wish she would just read this and know how I’m feeling. Here is where I leave all my truth. This is me. 2 parts of my soul. 1 part of my life.
Learning to let go,

KD