I fell for crime.

I fell for beauty.

(no subject)
bitch, please.

(no subject)
It's funny to think how long ago 2006 was. I hardly remember it.

That's probably for the best.

(no subject)
Listening to "Countdown" by Beyonce. Mostly because I'm a big dork. ANYWAY.

John and I were talking this morning about November. As of November, we will find out if my job will be closing down and moving to Greensboro, North Carolina. We both have no interest in following them down there, so we are planning on possibly taking over our other idea. Starting a used bookstore here. A: I have more than 5 years experience with helping manage a store, B: there isn't one downtown anymore. No bookstores downtown at all, actually and we have friends that are on a nearby block with a great coffee shop/vintage store.

All we really have to do is start saving our money, I need to finish this whole learning how to drive thing, find the place and start buying/selling books on the internet to kind of help with costs. I'm excited. I would love to do this.

(no subject)
gettin' married, gettin' murdered.

Life's simplicities.
Nothing went as it was supposed to, today. Work was awful (New job: Okay. New coworkers: Semi-okay. Except for that jackass that said I was dumb as a bag of rocks.), spending time out with my mom was not so great (even though we saw a really great location for something that john and i are working on)-, and then my outing for tonight was cancelled. I came home a mess. I cried for a solid half hour to John about it. It was awful. Anyway, now I'm eating a pumpkin cupcake, watching Kubrick's "Lolita" and enjoying being in the same room with my favorite.

Sometimes, things work out.

(no subject)
....i'm baking. i don't want to clean up my mess. i want to take a nap.

I just realized something.
As of June this year, I've had this journal for ten years. TEN YEARS. That for me, is a big accomplishment. I don't have relationships that have lasted that long (close, but no cigar.), no cars, no beds, no clothes, no shoes. Not one damn thing. It is as old as a 4th grader.

Kiss my ass.

Anyway, those who have read off and on, and to those who care at all. Hi, thanks for making it sort of count.

Get rich quick scheme: Write a book about my problems? Or just try to sleep with Rick Ross and have a baby. I'll name it Lincoln. I promise.

Dear time off work,
You've been really god damn swell. Even with all the shit I had to do on Friday and Saturday. That wasn't really swell.
But Sunday and Monday? You are teaching me that I can either choose to be productive and busy OR take a much needed break and relax with my bfff, "The Maury Povich Show." That's what I did, today.

Yesterday, I made some big decisions for myself. I also played a drinking game of "How many times can words 'memory', 'courage', 'love', 'heroes', and '9-11' can occur." Suffice to say, I was WASTED. Scared the crap out of John thoroughly. Drunk Danielle is fun in doses. In larger doses, she may call your brother to tell him you're an asshole (this only happened once, i promise). Today, I tried to put together a bed frame that was too small for the mattress. Bye-bye $300. Fuck. But, I ate cereal, I drank coffee, I took a nap. I loved on the roommate for awhile (the one who lets me sleep in the same bed that is now lying on our floor) I'm bloated too. That's super cute. Attractive.

Oh, and I'm taking up running next week. Once I buy a decent pair of running shoes. I figure, I can walk 6 miles, I can probably run at least a mile. Right?

I'm just not big on my boobs moving. It upsets me.

I kind of like how I'm actually taking time to write here the last few days. It's interesting.

I wish that I knew how to flip the "off" button on the crazy sometimes, though. Because sometimes my brain just starts making noises and I can't seem to just push mute. Whatever. I'm going to go do some laundry, maybe not eat anything else that has salt in it (i craved it all yesterday and this weekend, and now, blam. Gross.) and maybe go wake up John by threatening I'm going to drink my weight in cheap vodka again.

sweet vanilla.
Vanilla cake is probably my favorite kind of cake. Especially when it's FULL of vanilla.

We have television again. Not just, a t.v. but, actual honest to god television. What do I think of this? Oh, it's awful. I hate it. Especially today of all days.

Other stuff: We got our new bedroom set from a friend. I'm not actually sure what I think of it anymore. It's a little to southern gothic for my tastes, and whatever, but at the same time, it has lots of compartments and shelving for clothes which is nice for the control freak in me.

John has been a godsend (I spelled this twice as dogsend. I like it better.) when it comes to getting this whole thing together. My anxiety and nervousness kicked in and in full force. One morning last week, I woke up sobbing my eyes out and the only thing he caught out of the conversation was "ROOM..DIRTY..HATE.. STUPID SHIT FUCK." Incoherence: My number one nature.

Things are .. really good these days. Even when the bad days come around, things are still pretty good. I've been feeling less twinges of whatever the fuck that was that was causing me to be wistful for so god damned long-- and as long as I don't think about it, or talk about it (at least with anyone but John-- he seems to be the only one in my present life who gets how hard it is sometimes NOT to miss someone)--I am perfectly okay. More than willing to let my mind be as happy as my heart can be.

I loved Olympia. I miss it quite a bit. But here is the thing, until all of this is over (for me. It's been over for everyone else in this game, for a very long time)-- until I can say that I'm not going to be that pathetic person who went running anytime "they" called, like a god damn dog, I can't go back there.

My heart got broken there. I tried so badly to destroy so much of myself there. I hated everything about myself in that city.

I want to see it with different eyes. Some day. Not today.

And yeah, don't get me wrong. This does not mean I don't love John. I do. Very much so. But my memories betray me sometimes. Just sometimes. And it has nothing to do with current situations. It just has to do with what HAD happened.


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