Charlotte

chazasaurus @ 2009-07-23T12:52:00

2009-07-23T16:53:23Z

Best friends means I can jokingly sing one line of "All My Life" by K Ci and JoJo and suddenly we erupt into a full chorus.

chazasaurus @ 2009-05-27T09:16:00

2009-05-27T13:17:46Z

Addressing High School
Some people would say these were the best years of their life, some would disagree. As for me, I'm trapped in the ebb and flow of memories, both good and bad. I am undetermined in how to justify what words qualify the conclusion of these four years. Which memories deserve a scribe?

So I dedicate this speech to the brawn of my metal capacity. For once, I am willing to write a composition in vain. I managed to survive four years in such a place.
Two hallways.
One stair case.
Two floors.
Two bathrooms.
One (working) water fountain.
It is beyond me who decided school should last seven hours a day. One would assume that upon their first thought of these seven hours, the initial impression would be impending boredom. To sit under mental strain, and fluorescent bars of light - the bars they impede any escape, like a jail - would irritate a person beyond any reach of sanity. Seven hours a day, five days in a row. Not to mention, one must go home and continue their learning in their hours off.
What reasonable human allowed this decision to pass through the system?
Education is important enough to follow the ways of torture, I guess.

I was once excited for high school. It was a new position, a new person I could be. All my friends I made were new. I remember how exciting it is to start new friendships. Everything is clean, with no past memories to mar the trust between the two people. I miss being giddy, testing the limits of the new building. It was even exciting to test my limits with upperclassmen.
Upperclassmen are as far as goes:
They do get mad when you are in the middle of the hallway.
They will always regard you as a part of a social level lower than pigs in shit.
I think this is all because they are bored of their own drama in junior and senior class. Humans crave chaos. Humans butchered Neanderthals like deer due to competition and brain capacity. The same structure goes with high school - except no hunting knives are allowed.

The International Baccalaureate. Similar to drowning. The teachers throw you in a fishbowl and load it up with assignments, also known as water. If you can manage your actions and swim, rid yourself of the procrastination security blanket, you can accomplish so much. There were so many times that I couldn't sleep at night because something was due the next day.
Did I actually do the assignment?
No.
Probably would have taken away my anxiety.
Instead, for that, I was dosed. In freshman year, I was a Prozac user. The doctor told me that it made the "downs" weaker. He neglected to tell me that the ups were similar. I felt no emotion, except for hate toward myself. I tried to hard to dress nicely, to impress, to stand out. None of it was effective. There would always be another step I had to take to fit into the ideal person that people wanted to see. Thus began the era where I, Charlotte Wright, despised every single thing about myself. Becoming an ultimate recluse, screaming and crying wherever the need was felt, they put me into a hospital. It comes as a surprise to most people now to know that I was once insane. It turned out that the newest addition of medicine added to my system, Wellbutrin, had actually caused my breakdown. My doctor had briefly mentioned that It truly works for some people - and for others, It drags them down further.

Released from the hospital, they put me on different meds. It was at this point that I lost faith in humanity. Only momentarily did I heed the warnings about stopping my medication. It is said that it could cause a severe relapse effect. Heeding became boring. I had no respect for the despicable individuals who had crushed my soul before hand, and thus decided to rebel.

My pills were thrown into my bottom drawer.
"Did you take your meds today?"
I lie for only you.

It was upon this next month or so of my life that I had a bright awakening. I could talk to people. There was suddenly no urge to go punch a wall, or someone's nose. I wanted to get out of bed and be social. I now felt that I surpassed everyone around me, breaking the control of their dictatorship. And I, letting my serotonin guide itself, no longer trusted anyone surrounding me.

I made a best friend. We were wild. We did things parents would ground you for. We put more effort into spending every waking (and sleeping) moment together than we gave to our homework. There was something so uplifting about having a friend who you felt unified with. She was the first person who understood me. Everything we said was hilarious due to our similar sense of humor. I'd explain something, and she'd justify my reasoning by saying something I was just about to. My mother questioned if I would get a boyfriend ever again.

This best friend and I became hippies. We listened to only vinyl, wore peace signs and hemp backpacks. In my free time I read about Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin. Outcasts to their own society, trying to accomplish the Yippie goals of free living. I wanted that. I wanted to revel in an easy going life. I established peaceful mantras as my way of living throughout most of my sophomore year. People called me "hippie" and told me to wash my hair. I loved it. I became this nice, peaceful little girl with long flowing hair.

Where's Charlotte?
Making daisy chains in the backyard.

I was living in the wrong time. Surrounded by the wrong people. My extensions of peaceful mannerisms became abused by people I thought were close to me. It was quite evident that people were, in fact, assholes. No one looked out for each other. No matter how nice of a person you are, you will still hear day-old gossip, cheapened and elaborated by hours of age. The sunshine bliss of flower power became bullshit. It was a hazy dream I had convinced myself of one night.

The negative attitude, the familiar apathy, became comforting to me again. I could not sympathize with one person. I felt too good to be anywhere, in a non-cocky, quiet sort of way. Curling up in bed with my thoughts felt too nice. Quit piano. Quit writing as a hobby. Quit my journals that I had been keeping since I started writing. This is one motion I regret the most. I managed to forget most of junior year because I stopped journaling.

I wish I could document junior year well. I know that on December 3rd I attained a boyfriend I never should have. We've all had those kinds of relationships before, right? He lived far away. He was my secret for a while. A license made it all too easy to drive that two-and-a-half hour distance into bliss. Once again, I felt a connection with a human being. Something so rare to me after being stuck in a numb world for so long. I do not doubt it was love. It was love that made my car's radiator blow up in Southborough at 8 o'clock at night. My secret was found out.

It is this year that I have become the most comfortable with myself. After living with said boyfriend for months, I realized a few things, and grew up quite a bit. I realized that I was, in fact, a queer. The kind of person my mother told me about, where she said if I became one, she'd love me less. It took months to really mentally evaluate whether I was bored or making a life decision. I broke up with the boyfriend. He became willingly vagrant, with rent money he owed my parents, and flew to San Francisco. I came out to my parents. They accepted me. My dad even told me that he had some sort of idea.

I always told myself that when I finally was comfortable with who I was (going through such depression all of my life, I never thought I could attain such comfort), I would get a tattoo to commemorate it. I was queer and out to everyone. I knew I wasn't fat. I was okay with shaving my head as a female. Didn't give a care about what anyone thought about me. What a freeing thought - to not be held down by anyone's opinions. Acceptance is beauty and freedom. I chose a bird cage for the tattoo. Just a simple, wiry black outline with an open door. It symbolizes all of my struggles ending with accomplishment.

And this is how I feel about high school. My graduation essay is not written about academic achievement or my favorite teachers. It is to mark the changes I have gone through as a human being. I've learned tolerance. I have an appreciation for natural things and logic. I feel fifty years wiser than those surrounding me, because when you sulk in the dark depths of sadness for years, you have nothing to do but think. I pity those who do not analyze the world around them, or question the true meaning of everything. It is only then that you open up to yourself, and know who you truly are, for self knowledge is the most important thing in life.

chazasaurus @ 2009-05-17T23:24:00

2009-05-18T03:28:04Z

My creativity is dwindling at the same rate as my bitterness grows.
everyone's better
having a better time
more capable
I feel as though I've slumped into nothing. An antisocial wreck.
I see myself in these situations, being completely normal, but feeling like I'm not there. I am not who I think I am. My mind convinces me that regardless of what happens, everything is always horrible.

When will I learn to absorb the good times and keep it in my memory, to bring back up when I feel so alone?

chazasaurus @ 2009-05-13T21:34:00

2009-05-14T01:34:17Z

chazasaurus @ 2009-05-13T08:27:00

2009-05-13T12:27:25Z

my car is totalled.

it wasn't my fault.

chazasaurus @ 2009-04-21T11:37:00

2009-04-21T15:37:39Z

Rob's waffles

2.5 cups flour
3/4 tsp salt
4 tsp baking powder (more makes it fluffy)
1.5 tbs sugar (brown sugar gives it better flavor)
2 eggs
2 1/4 cup milk
3/4 cup veggie oil
Tsp vanilla extract

chazasaurus @ 2009-04-08T16:29:00

2009-04-08T20:31:44Z

severe inability to communicate

sexual harassment

2009-04-04T23:06:23Z

One of our regulars, midly retarded 30 yr old man who likes to rap (literally retarded due to a drunk driving accident years ago)... comes in. He likes to talk to us for hours while we try to do work. We're nice. But seething on the inside.

He comes in.
"Idont haveny munny, cn yoo givme sum khaaffee?"
"Uh ok" says partner D. "Just a small one."

She gives him his free tall.
He asks for a piece of receipt roll and a pen and starts drawing at the registers.

"I lihke to drawww, it mahkez me hhappee."
":D"
*shows partner D the drawing*
"..that's.. Really offensive. I don't think you should show anyone that."
"Do yoo thingk I'm khrazy?"
"No, but that's sexual harassment..."

She later tells me that it was a drawing of a person with a hairy box, a penis for an arm, and a boob coming out of their head.

And thus began the end of free coffee for bhobbbeee.

chazasaurus @ 2009-03-02T22:17:00

2009-03-03T03:18:09Z

I got into Green Mountain College of Vermont!
My top choice.
And they're giving me a shitton of money.

chazasaurus @ 2009-01-19T21:20:00

2009-01-20T02:21:39Z

Insanity. He is insanity. He is short-tempered, violent, and very stupid. He only knows technological things, but common sense is foreign.

I can't deal.

chazasaurus @ 2008-08-06T22:54:00

2008-08-07T02:55:06Z

sheeeee's drunk again.

chazasaurus @ 2008-08-06T09:57:00

2008-08-06T14:04:07Z

"What're you doing home?"
"Well, Charlotte, just thought I'd stay home from work just so I could see you. I mean, you're so busy offcape that I'm thinking about checking your odometer every time you go out."
"What the hell?"

Ohhh, they're onto me.

chazasaurus @ 2008-08-04T22:19:00

2008-08-05T02:23:02Z

There's nothing more happy than the feeling I have right now. I'd like to say it's a mashup of many things - happiness, completion, connection. Rob is asleep, cuddled up to me. Never have I ever thought that I would like someone this much, or get this attached. I never knew what'd it be like to meet someone so important to me, and me be this important to them.

Except sometimes he rolls over, nudges me out of my position, and begins to snore. :( Like just now.

And earlier I woke him up just to hear him sleeptalking. Oops.

chazasaurus @ 2008-08-03T21:32:00

2008-08-04T01:42:48Z

I hate these days that are just mindfucks. The ones that throw you off course so badly that you can't function correctly. It's something about the lack of comfort in pattern failure. Everything changed. I went to bed later than recommended, only to have to wake up at 6:00 AM for work. Extremely tired, I got ready and left the house. On the way to work, I became (or realized I was) ill. The shift made me call all the other barista's numbers to see if they could come in earlier.. Finally I said "fuck it". I knew the store manager would feel bad for me because I've covered a few of his shifts. I called him, told him what was up, and left.

I ended up passing back out at home, only to wake up at 2 pm. This was definitely a key factor in the mind-bogglingness of my day. My natural circadian rhythm was off by 5 hours. I woke up and realized I hadn't talked to my boyfriend all day - which is incredibly strange. Especially since it's our 8 month anniversary. Hmm. I figure he's working, because he WAS on call. But this little shift out of normal habit helped to mess me up.

I spent the rest of my day being bored and feeling shitty. Probably not much more will happen.

chazasaurus @ 2008-08-01T00:45:00

2008-08-01T04:56:18Z

A lengthy intellectual conversation with a complete stranger today brought this rush of excitement to me. It was so fresh and invigorating. When you're talking with a stranger you can let out all your deepest darkest secrets - if they don't accept you, you can choose to never see their face ever again. This specific stranger was a 22 year old graduate from my number one college choice. Brains, money, good background. Incredibly ambitious. Everything I'm not, or what I don't have. I thought I was happy to have such a great discussion with someone but... he made me hate myself a little more. Increased my self-loathing and paranoia. Made me realize how far from wonderful I am. Where the fuck am I going?

We talked a lot about humanities, instincts, body language. He studied it for a bit. I displayed an interest in this dark, manipulative art, so he showed me some good books. 50 pages into it, I can tell you scary things about hands, their movements, what it means, and why it came about. Everything is linked to something natural or cultural, but all making sense. I say "dark art" because once you learn this - you tend to look for it. It's EVERYWHERE a person is, and words are only a part of what we mean. Words mean the least. Humans interpret first body language, tone, then words. Apparently women are naturally better at this because of maternal instinct. Our slimey womb-brats can't speak a word for years, so we've got to make due with it somehow.

I hate the inevitable countdown of the clock at night, tick, tick, tick. In less than 5 hours, it will be required that I wake up. My sole responsibility tomorrow is to assume the position of Barista, an early morning task known for successfully defueling America's rich pockets and refueling caffeine-hungry WASPs.

chazasaurus @ 2008-07-31T01:46:00

2008-07-31T05:56:54Z

There is a common fear of attachment that strikes every woman now and then. We love the one we're with, and that's why we don't want to love them. It's an evil mixture of paranoia and fear of emotional pain that keeps us from ever fully loving. In my experience, to give up and fully love has sent many into a downward spiral of deceit. No one wants to find out that the man they've been trusting for months or years has turned out to have a change of plans. The worst is when these plans are sprung upon you, and don't include you anywhere. I mean, I'm one for spontaneity, but save the agony for some stupid bitch. I love and love and love. Just about 8 months with Rob now and twice he has quickly shifted our course, set sail away from me. First, a month. He figured things out. Recently, a day. He really figured things out. I think by now he understands that:

1. He actually loves me.
2. I actually love him.
3. Apparently he can't live without me.

Which explains why a day after he breaks up with me, he'll spend hours talking to me... all night long. It's one thing to speak with an ex after a few months awkwardly to see how things are, but this was just so different.

I get less fearful every day, more comfortable. Of course, there's that nagging demon inside (albeit, a very reasonable one) that says "keep on your toes, dear." Be aware af your surroundings and keep up your defenses. Don't end up like nearly every time before. But I wish to enjoy his company and caresses fully - not anticipate their departure by biting my lip. I want to love and be loved fully, and enjoy the time that I do have 100%. Enjoy every day thoroughly.

He's afraid to talk about the future. I'm a dreamer. I've made dream lives with a few different people. I don't expect anything to be true in the end. It's just fun for the time being. Live one day at a time.

Love every single day.

chazasaurus @ 2008-07-24T21:04:00

2008-07-25T01:05:38Z

chazasaurus @ 2008-07-13T01:44:00

2008-07-13T05:45:53Z

In my past experiences, your boyfriend breaks up with you because he doesn't want to talk to you anymore.

Noo. Mine just wants to talk more. Begs to call me. Seems to need me more.

And it's not fair! He broke up with me, and I want to talk to him because I still love him. But a conversation with him feels restrained because I want to say "baby I love you" or something.

chazasaurus @ 2008-07-12T01:52:00

2008-07-12T05:53:22Z

ugh.
we're done.

chazasaurus @ 2008-07-10T00:27:00

2008-07-10T04:32:50Z

His feelings are genuine. Sure. I believe that, I know it.

But I need to remember that I am a fucking doormat. No matter what I do, I always end up giving too much of myself and regret it. Regret can't be too good.

I just feel like the amount of effort I put into things.. it's not being returned. I ask for the smallest, SIMPLEST favor.. and it's "noo I'm doing this [even though I know what you're asking will only take a minute]." I'm so fucking low maintenance and he can barely keep up with that.

Also, on another angry side note, my lactose intolerance seems to be getting stronger by the day. Been drinking milk almost every night of my life, up until a year ago. Now I can't handle the stuff.

chazasaurus @ 2008-05-29T17:51:00

2008-05-29T21:59:11Z

TO DO.

Ask Cliff about staying at his house after the Dave concert.

Do science lab, plan Murakami oral for next wednesday, work on school stuff.

PACKING LIST (for living out of a tent)

Clothes, which should be kept in lots of trash bags in the trunk of my car. Probably 10 shirts, a couple pairs of pants/shorts/skirts, lots of undies. Etc. Bathing suit. Socks. Couple pairs of shoes.

Toiletries.

All chargers/electronics

Flashlight, camping light, batteries for those.

Good blankets/ pillows for tents. Perhaps thick pad for "mattress".

Waterproof tarp, to be left in someone's house. Other rain gear.

SUNBLOCK.

Camera, journal, lots of pens. Document daily.

GOALS (for the camping experience)

Live off of the least amount of money as possible. I feel since I'm living in a tent, buying stupid things (which I always do) will seem unnecessary... seeing on how space will be so limited.

Eat better. Buy only whole food!

Be gracious to the people who let me camp in their backyards. Clean for them, do dishes, etc.

Exercise, exercise, exercise!!

Photograph and journal absolutely every day.

Sorry, this is of no interest to anyone.

chazasaurus @ 2007-10-18T11:10:00

2007-10-18T11:13:51Z

I've been ridiclously sick lately. Plus I'm so overworked - working every night almost till 9:30 isn't easy on a girl like me, especially when I go to school all day. Sometimes I think about leaving Sturgis and going to Falmouth, how nice would it be to take easy classes? Every class at Sturgis is college level, none of that college prep bullshit. If I went to Falmouth, I'd be getting A's.

I don't want to be sick anymore.

chazasaurus @ 2007-08-16T16:38:00

2007-08-16T20:42:08Z

I'm new to this community. :) I like spiders, but I can never get too close of them... I'm sadly afraid of them no matter how much I enjoy staring at them.

So I was in my friend's basement today and I found incredible spiders! Her basement is ancient (from the 1800's or earlier, I think) and no one ever goes down there. I saw three spiders right away, all sort of next to each other. From what I could tell, they were the size of a 50 cent piece with mainly white bodies and black markings all over. The legs were thin but not extremely long. I can't remember if they were furry or not, but I doubt it.

I saw another one crawling, it looked just like a brown recluse, but I'm not too sure. As soon as I caught sight of it though, I ran for my life. haha.

Well, does anyone know what kind of spider I could have seen?

Thank you!

chazasaurus @ 2007-02-15T17:28:00

2007-02-15T22:33:12Z

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'M GOING TO ITALY TOMORROW MORNING. Be back never! :)

chazasaurus @ 2006-07-16T17:54:00

2006-07-16T21:56:39Z

FRIENDS ONLY

Name:
Age:
How you know me: