Things I Wish For When I'm Sad:

To be a better person

To be a better girlfriend

To be a better bestfriend

To be a better friend-friend

To be a better communicator.

To not be so afraid of conflict

To not be so afraid of the world

To not be so afraid of expressing my emotions

To not be so afraid of everything falling apart at any moment.

To have self-esteem

To have faith in my environment

To have a healthier body

To have a healthier lifestyle.

Catgirl feels like shit today.

She's really sad and angry and confused and upset.

And she doesn't want to talk about it.

She just wants to nap until sundown and then roam the campus, looking for other sadmadconfused Catgirls.

F O R E V E R

When I grow up, I want to be Ashlyn.

And John Green.

And a better person.

And a tiger, who gives hugs to old monks.

And happy.

And a poke'master.

And a survivor of the Zombie War.

But, mostly, Ashlyn.

Meowmeowmeow.

Alex's house, Alex's boxers, Alex's Wii.

Alex pretty much takes up my life.

Except for nights like last night when I run away and get in the car with strangers and hide downtown where He Can't Find Me.

Because, I need my personal adventures.

Alex IS an adventure, but I need more than one adventure at a time.

My personal essay for English Comp is going to be about religion. I feel really uneasy about it, because I hate talking about religion in any sort of tone, much less a personal one, but I also feel like writing about it will force me to make some key decisions.

"Your boyfriend is hardcore atheist, is that going to influence your religious inclinations?"

Absolutely not.

That would be stupid. I remember being that stupid when I was young and naive and in 9th grade. I'm bigger and better than such silliness now.

"What's your current view on God?"

I really don't have an answer. It's just so, so hard for me to discuss something that I view to be an immensely private subject. I really just do not feel that it's appropriate for casual conversation. But, because I leave myself so little time to think about the big picture, I forget that I'll eventually run out of details and have to confront my beliefs (or lack of, thereof.)

Right now, I can honestly say that I believe in God. I am not a Christian, because I just do not agree with too many of the conformities and stereotypes that come with that label. I'm not at all sure whether or not I believe in Heaven or Hell, although I'm thoroughly convinced that I am n fact going to Hell.

Sometimes, I cry thinking about it.

And I don't know why I'm telling you nine dedicated readers this.

I feel so emotionally attached to this blog, to these entries, and I guess that I just need for you to know me. Not Jordan the cute, small girl that's sort of quirky and eccentric. And not Jordan the sassy bitch that constantly looks like she just woke up. And not Jordan the loud, obnoxious, too-drunk drunk girl.

Jordan.

About Alex.

I will not take any criticism.
Let me make that perfectly, undeniably clear:
You Will Not Shit Talk My Boyfriend.

Besides the fact that you have never met Alex, and therefore have no basis for your dislike of him, your contempt stems from that fact that he's in a fraternity.
Grow up and go to college.
The Greek system is really fucked up. I've met several assholes from other fraternities, and don't even get me started on the sororities, but One does not mean All and just because they are perceived in a certain way doesn't mean that they are a certain way, and the thought that you would go around haphazardly labeling things like this has got me very upset.
Because Kappa Sig has thus far proved to be the exception, and not the rule. All the members I've met have been polite and have welcomed me as part of the group without question, based purely on the fact that I'm their new little sister. I'm investing a lot of time and emotion into becoming a part of the unit, and I've so far had a lot of success.
I really like them. They're really good guys.
None of them are the stereotypical, meathead, fratboy.

But, besides the fact that your nastiness is misplaced, why is my relationship any of your business?
I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not even your ex.
In fact, I have absolutely no place in your life.
We have never meant anything to one another, besides a sort of uneasy friendship.
Your newfound concern for my dating life is probably based on what you wanted and couldn't have (ie: unrequited feelings.)

And I get that. Really, I do.
However, that doesn't excuse your behavior.
My "douchey, alchy, jocky fratboy" is my boyfriend.
Whether or not he actually is a jock or a douchebag (I'm not even sure what "alchy" means,) is none of your business, nor is why/ how I came to be dating him.

Alex is super important to me.
He is, without a doubt, the best thing that could happen to me at this point in my life.
I don't know how to express that without sounding like a lovesick teenager, because that's exactly what I am and I am happily embracing it.
We will probably not be together forever. We probably won't be together for a very long time.
But, while we are dating, I expect you to respect our relationship.
And you should expect that I will defend it to the best of my ability, especially when the attack is invalidated.

tl;dr: Get your fucking nose out of my business, Taylor.

No lies.

I've never lied. I'm really drunk right now.

Kappa Sig definitely knows how to throw a party.

Meowmeowmeow

I'm trying so hard to be coherent.

Alex is my boyfriend.

Mmm.

See you in the morning.

Formspring

I've broken down.
I don't know how to make links.

formspring.me.teamjscaife

Cute, huh?
Ask me lots of questions. I'm interested to see what you're interested in.
I promise to answer every question as honestly as possible, even if it's to tell you to fuck off.

meowmeowmeowmeow

I Spent 30-Something Hours With a Boy

And that sounds ridiculous, but it wasn't.
I am thoroughly convinced that it's the best way to get to know someone.
You guys, I'm just so happy right now. I don't even have the words to explain (and I ALWAYS have words.) He makes me feel so special.
It's been so long since anyone made me feel special.
I really, really like this.

(Oh, and I got real shitty last night, for the first time.
We were right about the beer vs. liquor.)

Meowmeowmeow, time for breakfast.
Time to load Say Hi To Your Mom onto my iPod.
Time to do homework.

(College is really getting in the way of my college life.)

I'm Not Correcting The Last Post's Grammar.

I wrote it on my cellphone at 2 am in my bed, continuously fighting back droopy eyes and yawns. I wanted to write it with all of my thoughts still swirling around, because that's when I feel the most honest.
To clarify: "Jordan" is Jordan "Silverfox" McClum. She used to have blonde hair, but she uses old lady shampoo to turn it silver. It looks surprisingly natural.
She's a really nice girl and an overall inspirational person. She makes me feel really good about myself. I'm hesitant to call her a friend, though, because I'm terrified that as I warm up to her, she'll somehow disappear out of my life.
It's weird to think about Jordan and her silver hair and her anti-shaving, because it makes me look at myself in those aspects with those traits. And though I will probably never dye my hair silver, I might stop shaving. And I might stop caring about the role society wants me to fill. And I might spend less time being socially conscious and more time fulfilling my wants and needs.

My first step into that is a boy. I'm not naming names, because I'm silly and believe in jinxs. But, wow. What a connection. What an interesting person. What a- well, I could go on for a long time. I'm remaining cautiously hopefull.
I have no idea what I'm doing tonight.
Last night, I went to Decadence and to a gay bar and some old man told me that I have nice titties (which, of course, I already knew,) and the gay boy I was with told me that I have the hair, the face, and the boobs to get whoever and whatever I want in life.
I'm not sure if that was a compliment or a warning.
Then I went to a Frat party and everyone told Mears, Danny, Parker, and I that we didn't have to join a fraternity or sorority in order to go to all of their parties.
So, I guess I'm not joining one. (That is partially a joke.)

I'm making friends here, slowly but surely.
Danny and Mears are inseperable, and I'm okay with that.
We took a nap together yesterday. All sprawled ontop of one another like one big happy family. And that's what we are: happy. I'm okay with college.
I'm confident that I'm going to be able to work through whatever problems may come up.
And if I don't meet the boy of my dreams, I Will Survive, because I's an independant womanz.

Most Of This Is True

I hate introduction paragraphs. Let's skip ahead:

I'm walking Jordan to Milneburg, which I haven't been in since beforethe occupation, and she's telling me about her life.
Like Mear's friends so months ago, Jordan is not even two sentences in when I realize that is so far out of my league, it's unfair to mention. She is the strong, confidant woman I want to be. She's 17, but she looks 19 and she acts as though she's 24, and I love it.
I'm sort of addicted to Mother Figures, if you hadn't noticed. I love the idea of someone always watching out for me. It makes me feel less responsible for my actions, so that I can hold onto the scraps of childhood for just a little bit longer.

Flash forward and I am writing on mom's buttcheek a short note that basically represents my acceptance of Danny into our pseudo-family. I'm not sure he'll see it, but it was an emotionally gratifying experience for me.

Flash forward:
I'm watching these kids drink cheap wine and try to make a gravity bong (which I cannot define or describe, because I have no idea what it is,) but they can't because people keep walking by, so they eventually rolled a blunt and just chilled.
We took lots of pictures. I feel self-conscious, especially in front of Kyle. Idunno why, he just seems to be on a level higher than me. It makes me uncomfortable and makes me want to be his best friend.
Keifer is really into his "big brother" roll. I appreciate him so much.
Jordan tells me that I'm a cute girl, I've got alot going for me, and that I'm going to be happy here.

Flash forward:
I've always looked twice at marshall, and not in a bad way. Now I feel tongue-tied as he forces me to scootch over and share chairs with him, casually draping an arm around my shoulders and polietly flirting.

Flash forward:
Danny insist that I spend time with he and mears. He has not read the notes. I feel hopefuly for our future, and for my college experience.
I'm sitting on this beach, watching these guys drink

We Should Not Be Okay.

What bullshit.
Nothing is safe. Nothing is sacred.
Nothing is off-limits or taboo.

Humanity makes my heart ache.
If I could do it all over again, I would have been born a rock.

A Song About the Ocean

You are my forever boy
Sunken into ocean nights
Ten-thousand Iloveyou's under the sea
Where jellyfish are jealous of our sky-filled eyes.
Take me on an exodus:
Would-be, could-be
Should have been a gutterpunk:
I was born to roam with room to spare
I've become the lion, but I'm still afraid of bears
(Lions and tigers
And lions and bears.)
Humidity sticks your handprints
To the the backs of my eyes and my brain
I'm your Barefoot Contessa
Leaving no marks in the sand.
Footprints: lighter than wishes and snowflake kisses
Each grain crying out,
"I miss you, I miss you,"
Patiently waiting as I never could
"I miss you, I miss you,"
And someday you'll see it'll always be true.
Where has all the time gone?
Yesterday's lovers meet today's aquaintences
And no one ever likes what they're forced to see
They're safe and sound, underground
Blue submarine boys and yellow-shoed girls
All the same, all unique
All-knowing, snarky, teenaged-fashion
My soul is too old
And your heart is forever young
Meet in-in-in the middle
Because I'm terrible with beginnings
And you hate loose ends
(I hope I've made you smile)
Before casting off into the waves, forever
And it's true. Someday you'll see it'll always be true--
"I miss you, I miss you,"
And someday you'll see it'll always be true.


I wish I were actually good at writing.
I wish I could play guitar.
You have no idea how much time I'd devote to this sort of thing.