partythighs

im back in seattle- the only time i can update. no more computer in my new house. thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday. it was, i got nice new tattoos for myself. everything is good in portland, ive settled into a pretty okay routine, which i like. i feel like im always waiting for things to become a certain way and im almost there. next step is to go back to school. im looking to go spring quarter. its weird being back in seattle. old memories are just- i dunno. i get nostalgic very easily, and i really miss this old life but hate it at the same time. i cant belive things changed this much in under half a year. my life is completely different and im a completely different person. i miss teenage angst. if im not careful i'll wind up with another choppy chin length bob and too much lip gloss. its weird too because i have contact with none of the portlandese all week. i hope my cat is okay- if i had my way i would call daily to remind that she needs to be fed and watered and petted and given treats. im here working for my mom mostly, working to sort all the shit out of this house. its hard to restrain myself from grabbing shit to keep left and right. ive been given a boatload of dresses- mostly mesh slips- from the early 1900's. they are some of the most beautiful things ive ever seen. im exhausted. i have no humor to inject into this. i feel thouroughly, calmly, bewilderingly depressed. i dont ever want to leave here, but i want to be home. i want it all to merge. i want to live where soul meets body ( i touched chris walla's ass at a protest once). this feels so permanent and homely, and the rest of the time i am like an astronaut corded to a ship, floating in space. the funny thing is this house will be out of my hands in a month, and so much of what i know so well will be gone. ai. i hate my uncles so much for forcing my mother out of her house. i guess most people dont spend their entire childhoods in one house- i didnt either, but my grandma lived here when i didnt, so i was here a lot. and a boat doesnt really count as a different house entirely, i dont think. i dunno, journals can be horrible outlets for dramatic thoughts and feelings, and sharing that with everyone- what anyone who reads this would think of me. a regular zoe trope. im telling you, its the air in here- i feel 15 all over again. im waiting for a phone call and crying when it doesnt come. im fucking someone ten years my senior and totally blowing it and acting my age (hmm...how history repeats). doing art projects at 4 am. failing classes. cutting my hair into a bob at every corner. i thought i was so miserable. im not silly enough to be miserable over the same insignificant things anymore, is that maturity? when yr a teenager, you stop crying about scraped knees and missed saturday morning cartoons, so if now i dont cry over not being called back by a friend or my mom being so lame, am i an adult? when can i stop crying over bills? relationships? how proufoundly mundane. im off to go read and imagine myself to be a post- grad in new york doing something exciting all while wearing perfect makeup. thank god that isnt me and will be done in 400 pages.