Fuck Fathers.

I almost dropped out of high school so that I could waste my life raising your kids, because you are the idiot asshole that never went to college and got laid off for three months.

I had to beg, literally BEG, gas money from complete strangers multiple times because YOU are too irresponsible to keep your promises and obligations to your child at boarding school a thousand miles away.

I spent every major vacation, from spring break to Christmas to summer, cooking and cleaning and changing diapers for whatever new kid you'd just popped out.

I did not complain when you knocked up a 21 year old girl.

I did not complain that it was the same girl you broke up with just a few months prior because "she was just too much like my daughter."

I did not complain about how, yes, creepy that is.

I did not argue with you, ever, about anything.

I did not fight with you over your repeated blocking of my mother from my phone for weeks a time.

I did not become angry when you informed me that I would have to attend community college or take out a loan, because you didn't have money to contribute to my education.

I don't even know what else to type.

I am literally the angriest I have ever been.

Because, you know, it just sucks.

To have a dad that calls my best friend's mom to cry about how much he misses me and how he regrets destroying our relationship and so on and blahblahblah, but can't be bothered to tell me that he's going to be less than ten minutes away from me for an entire weekend.

What if I had been on Bourbon?

Would you even have acknowledged me?

Would you have greeted me, your drunken girlfriend hanging from on arm, her purse on your other?

Or would you have just kept walking?

You're the shittiest father I can imagine.

I don't want you in my life anymore.

Where My Mouth Is

I got a strong will, just weak hands

And I don't know what to do with either of them.

I'm getting my driver's license renewed this week.

It's been expired since July 27th.

I hope they don't make me re-take the driving portion or written exam.

I'm less happy today than I was yesterday.

Happy, still, but less so.

It's an odd sort of roller-coaster.

But I'm getting used to it.

And all I ever did was look up to you

And all I ever did was let you down.

I really like Taking Back Sunday.

I really want to learn to play guitar.

I'm putting it on my Christmas wish-list.

My mom bought my plane ticket home today.

I'm leaving on the 11th of December.

I'll be Alex-less for approximately 30 days.

Which I'm sort of okay with.

But mostly scared of.

I'll get to see my puppies, though, whom I miss the shit out of.

And my mom, who has a confirmed diagnosis of Alzheimer's.

Which is scary as shit.

And my step-dad, who is probably still an asshole.

Alex and I are spending part of Thanksgiving with my dad's family.

I'm a little nervous about it.

For his sake, not their's.

My grandmother's opinion is the only one that really counts, and I know she'll love him.

But I'm afraid of Alex and my father meeting.

Especially considering that I haven't even spoken to my dad since June 10th.

It's going to be extremely awkward, and I just hate to put Alex in uncomfortable situations like that.

Think of all the fun you've had

The finest line divides a night well spent from a waste of time

Think of all the days you've spent with just your T.V. set and I

I can barely smile.

Janey Dixey came to visit me last night.

We hung out in Alex's apartment, drank cheap vodka, and talked about our lives.

She is the most beautiful person, ever.

I put her in the same category as Ashlyn and Blair.

She's going to come and see me after Voodoo, too.

We're going to cuddle and meld into a single being.

Because that's what everyone's doing, these days.

'Cause I'm a wishful thinker with the worst intentions

This will the last time you get to drop my name.

Say Hi To Your Mom.

Just breathe and mouth "goodbye"

If you want, I'll give you eternal life

Well, not so much life,

But have you ever seen a good zombie movie?

Well, like that, but you'll be smarter

And you'll stay twenty-three.

And I am gonna drink your blood.

I'm in love with this song.

Today, I am cleaning.

Alex went to a gun and knife show earlier today, and I told him I'd be leaving for my dorm room soon afterwards.

Yeah. Didn't happen like that.

I got caught up with the internet, and then it started to rain, so I played Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker for a while, and then I started cleaning, and then I decided to play some music on his laptop, but now I'm just on the internet again.

But I'll be cleaning again, soon.

Maybe.

My life is going really smoothly, right now.

I'm starting to get ready for Christmas.

Alex's birthday in coming up.

Voodoo is this weekend.

Everything is falling into place.

I'm so happy, I could die.

Catgirl.

Alex and I sort of had a blow up a few days ago.
It hurt.
I did not like it.
So I moved out of his apartment.
I was really dragging my feet on it, but today my aunt visited, so I had to come over and clean a little and generally make it look like I live here. So all of my "required for daily life" stuff is over here now, and it's staying here.
I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I'm listening to a playlist I made last year.
Mmm, Archie Star.
"My life's a rainstorm of Iloveyou's,
I miss you standing in the puddles."

I still really want a tattoo.
Particularly, my Great Perhaps.
I'm changing the placement of it from my hip to my right wrist.
Because I like my hip, and I think it'd be awkward.
I'm also thinking of cutting my hair short, again.
I am definitely dying it red soon.

Alex is going to give me the Rosetta Stone programs Spanish and French.
I'm going to learn Spanish first, then start on French a few months later.
I'm hoping to make friends with a few international students and sort of use them to pratice on.
If I can learn at least one language, I can take its course and earn a few extra easy credits.
Plus, I'll need Spanish for when I open my coffee shop in Texas.
I've decided on a name: Roscoe's Place.
I'm going to get a rottweiler and name him Roscoe.
Cute, huh?
Hopefully, I'll be able to build the shop with a second story, which will be my house.

Then again, this is all several years into the future.

I'm staying hopefull.

Meowmeowmeow

Childishchildishchildish.

I just don't understand.

And I never will.

I just feel so stupid, and so much like a failure.

Everyone saw it coming but me.

This always happens.

Lately:

I guess you don't really need/ want an update on my life.

But I'm going to give you one.

I lost my virginity.

It's not recent, but I haven't really come out and said it yet. I'm kind of embarrassed. Talking about sex makes me feel trashy, and that's stupid: I'm in a committed relationship. It's not like I just gave it up to the first guy that walked into my life.

I don't know.

I started drinking, regularly and copiously.

I really like being drunk. And I don't understand "social" drinkers-- the people that drink one beer per hour for several hours. Mostly because I don't like beer. I prefer shots (but really, half a shot of everclear,) because it doesn't take much to get me where I want to be.

Less work, more pay-out just makes sense to me.

I guess I smoke.

Not really. I mean, I've so far had a grand total of seven cigarettes, ever. I'm not going to start buying my own packs, because that's expensive. But I do bum from my friends whenever they happen to be smoking.

I'm going to try to make it more of a hobby, and less of an addiction.

I'm starting to try lots of new things.

Alex keeps reiterating that this is college: it's the time to try various things out and see what works for you and what doesn't. It's time to kind of do the soul-searching, identity-finding thing.

And I'm still me. I thought that drinking and smoking and sex would change me, but it hasn't. I'm still loud, and I'm still obnoxious, and I still meow at everyone. I'm still Jordan.

I'm just drinking, smoking, sexing Jordan.

Today I Just Feel Like Writing

This is going to be really disjointed, and it may not make much sense. It's just a collection of things I've had on my mind, some more recently than others.

You never believe me when I call you cute. I guess it's okay, because I never believe you, either. It bothers me, though. And I guess it probably bothers you.

I don't know when, exactly, I got angry. It just reared up in me, swollen and red and isolated. I didn't want you near me. And it must have started at the beginning of the night, when I asked you not to get drunk and you did anyways. And maybe the stress of driving for the first time in New Orleans, without a valid license and with my best friend hanging out his car's window, drunker than I knew how to deal with, and you in the back seat, sobering but not quickly enough for my needs. I thought about us, and about me, and about you, and how we're so different. And I thought of my words to Michael: "He's not the affectionate type of guy that I'm used to. I gave up 'long-walks on the beach' and getting up at 5 o'clock to watch the sunrise when I met him. And I'm okay with that." Suddenly, I wasn't so okay with it. I was angry at you for not expressing your feelings for me better and more often, I was angry that you and I don't have the same ideals about romanticism, I was angry that it's common knowledge that when we separate, I'll be utterly destroyed while you have no problem moving on.

It hurt.

And when I hurt, I lash out.

So I lashed out. I told you to get away from me, and I hid my face from you and ignored your "please talk to me"s until Michael came back and you shut up because neither of us wanted to involve him in our drama.

And eventually I picked up your cigarettes and went outside to smoke, because I could, and because I hoped you would take the hint and not follow me. You did, anyways. So there was me, sitting on the stairs and ignoring you, and you and your quiet: "You won't even look at me." And me, ever proving you wrong, taking a drag and turning to stare you in the face. Then turning again and exhaling. Then getting up and leaving and going to bed, alone.

And you, an hour later, crawling into bed and curling into me, me instinctively wrapping myself around you. "I'm supposed to be your confidant. Confide in me."

So I kissed you. Not right then, but later, after the whispers and the almost-tears and the confessions. We could have just gone to sleep, but I kissed you instead. Because I'm better with my lips than with my words, and I'm not sure you'd ever understand, anyways.

I'm so fragile. Emotionally, you have me in the palm of your hand, and every squeeze goes straight to my heart.

And I'm not going to spend forever with you. We're smarter than that. But I live in dread of all of the "tomorrow"s I'll someday have to spend without you.

I Can Has A Home?

I may be a college-dropout soon.

See, I'm at UNO because I received two scholarships:

Jackson OS, which paid $2000 a semester, and was used for tuition, and

Privateer Merit, which paid $2000 a semester, and was used for housing.

Overnight, Jackson OS doesn't exist, and PM has been cut in half.

I had to pay $1500 out of pocket to be here-- which isn't that bad. However, I still had t scramble to find the money. My parents have really bad credit, and so couldn't cosign a student loan for me, effectively negating that as an option. And my federal aid never happened-- it was dependent on my dad and his side of the family sending in some documents, and I'm not sure they ever did.

So money is scarce.

Because of these cuts, I magically owe the university almost $4000.

In text: four thousand dollars.

I could barely get my hands on one thousand.

And the worst part is that no one ever told me.

In order to move in, I had to have a zero balance. So I know that as of August 19th, my scholarships were intact. But after that, anything is possible. I don't know how long I've owed all this money. No one ever emailed me or sent me a letter or dropped by my dorm or anything. There was no warning or notification.

And I can't pull that much money out of my ass at the drop of a hat.

And I'm scared to go down to the Bursar's office and confront them, because they have the right to kick me out on the spot if I can't supply the funds. And I'm scared of letting that four thousand just sit in my webstar account and fester, because they'll bill me at the end of the semester and I still won't have that much money. And I'm scared, overall, of having to pack up and go back home to Texas.

I don't want to leave Grace. If I have to live so far away from her again, I'll spend all of my days just vomiting acid on everyone.

I don't want to be so far from Michael ever again, either.

And I don't want to leave Danny. Or Kiefer, or Hattie, or David, or Dylan, or Travis, or Addy, or all three of the Alexs, but especially the important one.

And I just don't know what to do.

I don't think I'm cut out to be an adult.

I'm just afraid of the world and all the bad things in it, and I'm just so appalled, constantly by the way some people treat others. It baffles me, absolutely baffles me, how stupid some of my classmates are. I know it's mean to say, but it's true.

And I just find it incredibly unfair that the girl that compared Johnny Depp's sweat-beads and blue aliens to, uhh, a backmassage can afford college and I can't.

Because I feel like I'm pretty bright.

I'm not that great of a person, and I have no redeeming qualities, but I'm sufficiently intelligent. I can survive in the world.

But I can't survive in the workplace without a college degree, and I can't get a college degree without money, and I can't get money, period.

And I just need someone to tell me what to do.