Procrastination

I loved it today when my English teacher said to everyone, “those who don’t procrastinate are in the minority.”

Isn’t it nice when people admit to not being perfect?  Maybe I can take a breath now.

I’ve been procrastinating for the last hour by being on this blog thing here.  But I feel justified because I had to think about my math midterm all day (we took it last period) and I am positive that I bombed it.  And yet, I came out feeling happy, because I had had a Eureka moment during the test about a porblem I was trying to figure out.

Next time we have a test I’m going to sit somewhere far away from her desk in the back.  I hate it when she sits on it and looks over us.  Makes me feel stupid for using up as much time as possible just in case, you know, I remember something.

I’m listening to John Mayer.  His early stuff was the best.  maybe because it was less rocky and he looked less like a drug dealer with all that hair.  Also, he has nice lips.  I’d kiss them.

This is what I’ve been feeling lately

Snow Patrol.  I’m not really sure what it is about this song.  It’s melancholic.  It’s sad, it’s sweet, it’s lovey.  It’s lulling.  I can’t really put my finger on why I love it so much right now.   Anyway, here’s some Snow Patrol goodness for ya.

And of course, a Five For Fighting classic.  A favorite.

And only because the lead singer is so damn sexy in this video.

I salvitate over John Mayer.  He’s sexy, his voice is sexy and also iconic.  I think this song is going to be iconic 50 years from now.  It came out at a really oppertune time.  Two years later, Obama was elected president.

And yet my all time favorite of John Mayer is this video.  He’s got the sexy/iconic voice, but it’s contained in a body of adorable awkwardness.  His hair is too short for him, and he’s got absolutely no rhythm.  Adorable.

School Today

I got a Valentine’s Day card from my advisor.  That was nice.  Usually they come with a rose, but since I wasn’t expecting one, I didn’t go look to see if I had one.  So I didn’t get my rose.  But still, a card is a card.

I felt pretty today.  That was nice.

I got many compliments on my hair today.  That was also nice.

Today Blake called me sexy again.  We were talking and then he was telling me how much hotter his girlfriend was than the girls in our school.  I can’t stand it when people say shit like that.  “All the girls in our school are ugly.  All the boys in our school are unattractive.”  It’s especially rude when you say it to one of the girls in your school.

He showed me a picture of his girlfriend.  She was cute but avereagy.  Not average in a bad way, but in a regular-ol-gal way.  I told him that.  He said I should at least give him credit for nailing someone hot.  I told him that I was a girl and that I did not think that way.  “Besides, doesn’t it matter more that you two like each other.  Looks arn’t that important.”  He grunted, a noise of disagreement.

I asked him who he thought was cute at our school.  He named three senior girls.  I was surprised that he didn’t name the quote-on-quote hottest girl in our school.  He said she was OK, but that he didn’t like how she… I asked him what he had said, but he just mumbled something more and didn’t say anything else.

I started naming girls.  How about her?  She’s OK.  And her?  Oh yeah, she’s hot.  I named girls who I considered the creme de la creme, the ones all the boys seem to go for.  I named girls who I thought were pretty, these were usually the ones he thought were nothing special.  And then I named girls who I’m always in competition with, basically the black girls.  Why is it important for me to feel that I am prettier than the black girls at my school?

Finally I named this one girl who I’ve been bonding with recently because of Starfish.  I have no problem saying that she’s a hottie and I believed that no boy would dissagree with that.  I never thought she was all that before, but that’s only because I didn’t really like her.  For me, beauty is slightly synonymous with character, with personality.  The more I get to know people, the more beautiful they seem to me.

His response to her was, “She’s a whore.  I’d let her suck my dick.”

I think it’s disturbing how obsessed I am with my outer appearence.  I think it’s disturbing how, whenever I see an article about someone who has suffered the loss of a limb, or some disfigurement, I tear the page out, just so I can remind myself not to be obsessed with my flaws.  Not to think it’s better to die than to be ugly.

What’s wrong with me that I can’t even say something to someone for making a blatantly sexist statement?  For calling a girl a whore when he doesn’t even know her, and even if he did that doesn’t justify anything.

I have to tell myself not to take things too seriously sometimes.  The other day this same guy asked me if I were sucking a teacher’s dick to have gotten such good grades.  I said nothing because I didn’t know how to respond to that.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Why it made me feel good when that guy turned to me and said, “But you’re sexy.  That’s the reason why I’m always hitting on you.”

Sexist. Sexist. Sexist and degrading.  Yet it made me happy, because I thought at least it’s not my looks.  At least it’s not my looks that makes someone not feel about me the same way I feel about them.

This falls into the lists catagory

I am making a list in order to keep track of all the men that I would do/marry/have their babies.

Jack Johnson, number one for having the most beautiful voice God ever created.

Lead guy singer from Extreme in More Than Words.  Guy with curly dark brown hair.  And yes, he looked a lot better in the video.  His hair was straight.

This man.  Whoever he is. He’s a Nigerian model and I forget where I got the picture, but he is pretty fucking fine.

Musiq Soulchild because I love his music.

Anthony Hamilton in the video I Can’t Go On

Bow Wow.  I usually go for classier people, but he just happens to be fine as hell.  Although, he’s the only one on this list I wouldn’t marry/have babies for.  Everything else is good though!

More to come!

LalalaLove

I’m secretly happy that my friend and her boyfriend broke up.  I know that’s bad, but I couldn’t help but smile a little. I promise to console her and be there for her and give her more encouraging words than she can handle.  There’s a German word for being happy when something bad happens to someone, but I can’t remember.

It’s just that I don’t like seeing other people happy unless I am.  That is so petty, so wrong, so juvenile.  Yeah, I know.  I don’t care.

My favorite are the highschool breakups.  Nothing’s better.  I can’t express to you how much I love it when people break up.  It’s refreshing to see, like drinking water.

I’m laughing in DELIGHT BECAUSE

Jessica Simpson got fat.  That’s what they call it in the tabbys, anyway.  It’s not really fat, it’s just she gained weight.  She is still pretty damn hot, hotter in my opinion because she’s embracing the girth.  Big girls are the shit.  And the only reason this post came up is because I’m listenting to her old songs.  “Boy, I think that I’m in love with you..” Oh yeah.  I used to take pride in not listening to old pop songs, but photo changed my mind, and well now, fuckit!

This is just for the hell of it

You know what makes me mad?  Those people who always need to be around their friends.  The ones who always have to travel with someone because they’re afriad of being on their own.  Those people who you talk to and it’s cool but God forbid you sit with them at lunchtime, or if you have, God forbid they sit with you because you’re not part of each other’s friend groups.  I say fuck friends groups.  And the only reason I’m saying fuck freind’s groups is because ever since I can remember my “friends group” have only been people I was with out of necissity.  It’s not that I didn’t like them.  It’s just that I get tired of them.  I always ended up being with the quiet people and God I am so much more than just quiet.

I don’t know what the hell I am.  At our meeting yesterday, when I all but said “fuck cliques, why do we always need to be part of a group?” Catalina said, “But you’re different Damali, you don’t think like everyone else.”  Which is just another way of saying that you’re weird. And really I don’t mind being called weird if it means I’m a free spirit and not afraid to be myself.

A lot of things are funny with me now.  Meaning in certain ways I’m a helluva lot more unself-conscious.

Yesterday my boobs were hanging out of my shirt.  There was a lot of cleavage.  And it’s not because I’m purposely trying to show off my breats, it’s more that I just didn’t care that they were out there.  My boobs are a pretty harmless part of my body, which is to say they are the only part of me that I would mind the least if someone managed to actually see them bare.

Well, Yesterday during club meeting they were hanging out, and I was thinking maybe I should try and pull my shirt up, just to give the appearence that I was trying to reign them in, but for some reason I didn’t.  Maybe I thought that would draw too much attention to them, but it’s probably more that I just didn’t care all that much.

When we walked out, Adriana turned around and said I looked cute.

“Wha???”

“You looked sexy with all that cleavage, I always show some, but you today was cute.”

And then Jayla said, “I know! I was wondering what was going on.”

And the whole thing was funny in that awkward little way, the way you’re aware that someone may be noticing what’s going on with you, but you’re not really thinking about it, and then that someone comes up and tells you that they noticed exactly what was going on with you.  But I like it when that happens because it makes me feel more real, like I’m actually sitting here or standing here. Concrete.

But I also like it because I like being sexy.  And it was much more than just having my boobs hal-out.  It was what I was wearing, it was what my hair looked like, it was what I was saying.  “Fuck the establishment.  I’m damn happy being myself.”  it was that freedom, it was that confidence.  It was that I know I’m cute and what are you going to do about that?  Even though I wasn’t even thinking about being cute yesterday, I was actually feeling a little awkward because I had my glasses in my hands, and having them always makes me feel awkward.  So maybe sexy is also unconscious.

Someone told me I was too self-promoting on this blog.  And I laughed.  There comes a certain point where you have to stop taking certain things to heart, where you have to stop being offended.  But I’m brave that way, because I’m not afriad to say what I gotta say, and it doesn’t matter if someone else thinks it’s weird or hwatever else.

Hey that’s kind of sexy too.

Well

I don’t know what to say except that I am unpredictable and that I did not intend to be hostile but that I felt a wave of unpentable anger for some odd reason and that was the only way I could express it as I did not have a punching bag.

Just..

For someone who doesn’t want us to be hostile anymore, you sure do call me a bitch a lot.

That’s the end of That

So I won’t speak about it anymore other than to say that I am a lot happier now. Load off my chest