Self Potrait

the random musings of shawntae at 3am during a thunderstorm

if i thought the corsica would make it, i would probably have packed up and moved somewhere else by now. that's my excuse for still being here. it's easy to blame the corsica. i like to write but rarely do anymore because i can never think of where to start. i usually just start in the middle and work my way out from there. sometimes i think adhd is something made up by doctors and whatever pharmaceutical company makes adderall, then i spend an hour in meijer trying to buy lotion and i think there might be some truth to it after all. i'm fairly positive i'll never fall in love because i don't think any man will ever catch me and i don't think i will end up wanting a man that will let me catch him. i have friends i consider close that i realize i've never spoken a whole sentence to about anything meaningful in my life. if you think you know me, you probably don't. if you do know me, you probably aren't reading this. i'm mostly crazy and i'm convinced that most people are mostly crazy. makes me wanna be a psychiatrist. what's worst than the blind leading the blind? the crazy leading the crazier. food for thought. i am the least attractive i have been in at least 15 years and i'm more confident now that ever. figure that one out. if i ever decided to give a shit and and get skinny and hot again, i'm afraid of the results. i don't remember my life 5 years ago. if it weren't for picutres and old myspace blogs i don't know if i'd remember it at all. the faintest of memories from a life that feels like it was someone else's. i think when i'm done writing this i'll type it up and make it into a blog [check] if i can decipher through my bad handwriting, jumbled thoughts and the sleep deprived slight craziness. craziness and jumbled thoughts i should be able to handle. the handwriting will undoubtedly be an issue. i can't forget my life two years ago and i wish i could...when i type this part, i will leave most of it out. and all that will survive to the blog version of this is what i already wrote. i remember my life two years ago too well. i do very little of what i set out to do in a day. if i finally make it to the library to return a overdue book i will consider the day a success and will spend the next day doing mostly nothing to recover. despite that statement, i am not that lazy. i find it hard to indulge in mundane boring tedius tasks that adult life unfortunately consists of. i'd rather spend the day in the park playing with crayola color bubbles than balancing my checkbook. i own crayola color bubbles. they are orange. it's the happiest color. i do not own a checkbook. scratch that. i do. it's still in the envelope from the bank from when i opened my new checking account. i never opened the new checks. i wonder what they look like. i'm sure they're boring. i opened the crayola bubbles right away. this is possibly the worst think i have ever written. i used to keep a book of poetry when i was young. then again two years ago. i threw that one away. sometimes i get exhausted of being bubbly and perky and happy. gotta give the people what they want. i am good at nothing. i say that sometimes to be funny but there's a lot of truth to it. maybe i'm good at being funny. i don't think so. i'll reread this when i'm done and see if it's funny [it's not] and if it isn't i stick with my original statement. i have no place that feels like home now. i don't even unpack when i move anymore. my views on sexuality, sex, relationships, etc has completely changed in the past year. up until a year ago anxiety ruled my life and made me mostly crazy. now i'm practically anxiety free but it's unnerving because what the hell is behind my mostly craziness now? i am slowly coming back to life. i have an obsessive personality. i wish i could get addicted to something that is good for me. my vices are so very enticing. i hate the way that last sentence sounds with it's awkward almost alliteration. and that one for the same reason. but i don't think i'll change it. i've been writing for 20 minutes and haven't really said anything. people think i'm cool. i beg to differ. it's a quite well placed facade. also, people tend to fall just a little bit in love with me at some point. i don't know why. not all the way in love. it's the facade. it traps them and before they know it they're tricked into thinking i'm cool and falling just a little bit in love with me for awhile. i fall asleep watching country music videos every night and the song "she won't be lonely long" never fails to reach into my dreams and wake me out of a dead sleep. then i wake up and i'm alone. hardly seems fair.i don't think that i actually know anything about the things i think i know about.i read the graphic novel the watchmen and out of all the characters, fell a little in love with dr. manhattan...hello lifetime of failed relationships and therapy. i spend so much time thinking about what i should be doing that i don't have time to do much of anything at all. i want a cute guy with a guitar to write a song about me. and i want it to be like meet virginia or 3am or she's got a way. my whole life has been a big case of seasonal affective disorder. i'm only productive for about half the year. i think i've been doing it all wrong my whole life. i should go to school in the summer and take the winter off. or move to florida. oh wait. i can't move to florida yet. corsica won't make it.