and they put you in the ground.

So, the weekend's over. Right after that last post, I went to a party. While I was there, I got the best compliment I could have ever received, from a really awesome friend. "You genuinely like people and you care about them and you want to be connected to them."
It felt really good to hear that, because most of the time, i really think of myself as kind of a failed attempt at a person. I try to be friendly, and approachable, and supportive. I give compliments like candy and I spread love like an STD and it still gets me nowhere. Say be yourself and I'm there. I'm doing it, but it's still putting on a show. Always, always, always with a pose, and the same running inner monologue (Pleaselikeme.Pleaselikeme.Pleaselikeme,orIwillNEVERbegoodenough.) It sucks to realize that I still think like that. I honestly thought I was over it. It doesn't rule my life anymore, but there are times when it physically hurts to be in public.
Then again, I've realized something else. All of this actually has happened before. I'm just getting that feeling again, where it's time to run away and do something else. Except, I can't run. I swore I would settle down in Los Angeles, finally. Now that i was happy and doing what I needed to. I settled. I got a cat. I got an apartment. I made a few feeble attempts to get a boyfriend before I realized that most of the guys who would date me are kind of lame. I'm just not that kind of girl, I guess.
So, nowhere to run. I used to run away and hide in clothes racks or in the backyard when I was little. Sometimes I would even go down the street. Miracle I wasn't kidnapped, especially now that Nashville is in the top 15 most dangerous cities list. I'm lucky to be alive, I know that.
No more running. Let's just stick around and see where my feet end up while they're on the ground.

a little unbroken.

This is ridiculous. I do this every year.
In Spring, I have flashback to previous Springs, almost never to times when I was happy because there weren't many of those. This is the best year I've had in a long time, and all I can think about is the months I spent losing friends, hating myself, and being in love with people I shouldn't have been (high school was very dramatic, in it's own quiet way).
I have three body piercings, an agent, at least seven people I can call my good friends, at least two people I know are interested in me- even if I don't reciprocate it because I'm not a very available person, a draft of a script, a schedule for next year, and two parties this weekend.
It's amazing. I'm looking at these people who are beautiful, fun, smart, and very likable, and I'm realizing that they feel just as alone as I do. God, we suck, humanity.
I think I may just be in a funk this weekend. I haven't gotten much sleep.
It's not even the weekend. It's Thursday.

don't forget.

I was beginning to wonder if this year didn't count. It's been such an awkward, in-between stage in my life that I was really starting to wonder if I should just take the year off, like, of life. I've been thinking a lot.

So, I got chewed out by a teacher in front of my friends for making a bad personal and professional call. It didn't ruin my day. A year ago, it would have. I'd have walked around in a funk with nothing but that on my mind and it's what I would have remembered about my 19th birthday. Instead, I walked out with my head held high and a small smile and chalked it up to life in general. I'd admitted that I was wrong, stood by my decision, and gotten ripped a new one. Yay life experience.
Then, I began to wonder if I should feel bad about that- not feeling bad. I realized that, now that I'm not constantly worried about being judged and criticized by others, I'm not really sure what constitutes personal integrity, or where my priorities lie. It's shown this year. I've skipped classes, changed my major, dropped a course, and made some very interesting personal choices.

I couldn't be happier. I was better liked when I was depressed.
For the first time, my over-arching priority wasn't making good grades and making other people like me (or not-notice me). It was making myself into a stable, functional person, one that might live to 25.
That took some trial and error. Honestly, I never properly learned how to organize or prioritize very well. To-do lists and schedules were strongly recommended to me, but they only work if you stick to them. And the things you care about change really fast. I think we have an infinite capacity for love, like we have an infinite capacity for thought, but we don't really use it, and I'm learning how much energy it takes to care deeply about everything you become involved with. Eventually something's gotta give. That's life.

This year, that something isn't me. This year, I'm not the worlds most likable trainwreck. I'm not the mot successful jerk either, but I'm close. It's hard, knowing what you want and going after it when you're worried about everything that goes down in between. I'm learning, though, and that's good. I still care about people, places, things. I just care about myself too. Finding a balance is kind of scary, but I've never felt more centered. Maybe I can use that to help people? God knows I want to.

I'm still fighting an eating disorder.
I'm still fighting heavy anxiety.
It's just- now, my life isn't about the fight.
It's about what I'm fighting for.

The end. Happy 20, me.

and there are storms we cannot weather.

I think it's the fatigue. I know I'm pretty happy, but I haven't slept in days. Actually, I started that sentence yesterday and forgot about it. I went to bed at 12:40 last night. I woke up at 6. Fucking insomnia. It hasn't been like this in years.

Then again, I'm usually doing something. Talking to people. Writing. Something. That's pretty okay with me.

Mary operates in kind of a general altruism. It serves her, and it doesn't. Mary refers to herself in the third person, and sometimes she keeps her thoughts to herself.

I'm always in the weirdest mood around my birthday. Thankfully, I've had two very specific things to keep my mind off of it, and a plethora of people. I forgot it was tomorrow. Oh god. I actually feel unwell about that prospect. That's okay, though. I'm not going to tell anybody.

Here's some backstory. I don't give backstory very often, because I don't think of it very often. In an ideal world (for my parents), I'd have been conceived on their wedding night, which means I would have been born in late September (or August, because I was premature). Of course, in that ideal world, I'd be turning 36 this year. I'd probably be married, a lawyer, and Catholic. I'd probably be boring. That or I'd be dead. These are some interesting thoughts. I'm glad I'm where I am now. I feel like I have a purpose. I feel like I have more than one. I feel like I'm around the people I need to be. I feel like I have people to love. (Love is the law, bitches.)

It's the first time in a long time that I'm not horribly depressed. I'm exhausted, and a tiny bit stressed, not to mention my body seems to hate me, but I'm still happy, smiling, and I want to live. I could attribute that to one of two people, or I could attribute it to me, I'm not arrogant. Thanks, guys.

my dear acquaintance, a happy new year.

There is such truth in music. It's the only thing you can't be unmoved by.
I'm glad I'm writing again.

I'm realizing that it's far more exhausting pretending that something isn't getting to you than it is actually having it get to you. I have a lot to do, and I'm realizing that I made a couple of very questionable choices. (More thoughts on my work blog soon http://mzenani.wordpress.com
Everything I do comes down to choices- I choose who I love. I choose my mentors. I choose my classes. I choose what I pay attention to.
The only thing I don't choose is the people I'm loyal to. The ones I'll do anything for. Those still surprise me. There is a list. You might be on it.

There's always a list.

I made a list recently of five reasons why I should have high self-esteem. Two of them are names. Three of them are stories. It's the stories that I'll tell.
Two complete strangers asked me for my number last week- one in the gym, and one at the Vitamin Shoppe. Just, out of the blue.
They both texted me. I never really got back to them.

Story #2. I was a little more dressed up than usual, a nice dress and heels (this was last Wednesday), and I was stressed and tired and on my way to a meeting in the evening. On my way over, an older woman leaned out of the passenger side of a very beat-up van and shouted to me, "Hold. Your. Head. Up. You're too pretty to be looking so sad." Instinctively, I looked up and straightened my shoulders, and she shouted, "There! Now you look hot!" I've never felt so bolstered and supported by the universe. It's been a hard one, and that story is keeping me smiling, for the most part.

Story #3: I was doing a photoshoot in a park in Angeleno Heights, and there was a large group of kids nearby. They copped an attitude and made a lot of comments, but this was my favorite conversation.
"Excuse me, ma'am, are you a model?"
"Yeah."
"What kind of model? Like magazines?"
"I bet it's porno. Is it porno?"
"No, I don't do porno."
"Can I have your autograph?"
"You got a pen and paper?"
"Aw, man! Well, can I have your number?'
"I thought you didn't have a pen?"
One of them followed us back to the car just to tell me he thought I was beautiful. Then he ran away. I'm so happy I live in Los Angeles.

My birthday is soon. I don't like my birthday. :(