Mixtape Love

Mixtape/mix cds/music playlists are an intensely personal thing for me because I'm such an audiophile. My music collection is widely varied because I enjoy having a soundtrack to my life. Just like in a movie or on a show, the right song at the right moment really captures the mood and defines the moment for me. The dick that I mentioned in my last blog happens to have a respectable music collection as well, but it isn't as impressive as mine. The only one-on-one conversation I ever had with him was about music, and during that conversation I vowed to change his mind about one band (he only had their first album, which was their worst album out of the three they put out). At the beginning of this week, I decided to make him listen to other songs that the band had recorded (I succeeded in changing his opinion of the band), and promised him that I'd let him copy that music from my computer. That was a promise that I almost revoked two days ago, but I figured that I'd be kind and still let him have the music. So, today I sat down and made a playlist of songs that he wants, songs that he'll probably want after hearing them, and songs that I'm thinking he'll want but I'm on the fence on. The total comes to 83 songs (a tiny portion of my overall collection, but it includes a lot of my current personal favorites), which made me realize how close our musical tastes are, something that has always made it easy to overlook personality flaws (my last ex was a complete jerk, but I fell in love with his music collection and he introduced me to one of my favorite bands, the Dresden Dolls). If he likes all of the music, then all i can say is thank God this clerkship is almost over, or I might have developed a crush on him. The timing is such that I can just give him the music and have him walk out of my life forever without falling for another asshole, something that I don't need to have happen to me.

What goes down must come up.

Picture this, if you will: I'm standing at the sink at twilight, staring down at the "In-Sink-Erator" and drinking cold coffee that I got at noon and doctored with creamer and 5 packets of sugar (it's a grande size...why the independent coffee place felt the need to change their size list to match Starbucks, I'll never know), all while listening to the instrumental version of "A Beautiful Mine."

In a morbid moment, I fancy that my life has essentially just been shoved down into the dark hole and the "In-Sink-Erator" has been turned on. Everything feels discarded, chopped up, and scattered in a terrible way. I can't seem to be able to grab all of the pieces and fit them back together, the way one would assemble a jigsaw puzzle or a piece of furniture from Ikea. This, of course, is driving me into a dismal, desperate variety of insanity to the point of where it seems like every gamble I take, I lose, and the stakes keep getting higher and higher. My luck has run out, and I can't find any borrowed time to live off of.

Now, I'm normally not the type of person to get jealous or to compare myself to others, but I absolutely detest having salt rubbed in my wounds when they are just beginning to heal. Naturally, salt was rubbed in my wounds today at an absolutely perfect time. My first reaction was to punch the dick who, in my mind, could have done without getting his good news because he needs to have a lesson in humility. The dick really is the physical manifestation of everything that I hate in people. Normally, people only have one or two flaws, but this guy has them all. I'd offer to castrate him so that he can't procreate and pass on his awful personality and character flaws to the next generation, but something tells me that he wouldn't take me up on the offer. Instead, all I could do was grab my wallet, flee the office, and go get a cup of coffee.

While drinking my coffee at the aforementioned independent coffee place, I put my feelings down onto paper, folded that piece of paper up, and put it in my wallet. Then, I did what I do best, which was come up with an alternate route to go from point A to point B in my professional life (seeing as how the dick and others like him robbed me of my original plan [it's always easier to blame someone else than admit that you are the reason why you failed]). However, doing so failed to reassure me. I honestly have never felt more insecure in my life (even when I went bra-less for the first time at the tender age of 17 for a vendor show put on for Macy's West Coast division [I was wearing a backless halter top with a neckline that plunged to my belly button, which I wore because I was the only person who could fit into the size 0 jeans that were paired with the top], I was more confident that I am now...and I was terrified then). I can't afford to continue to fail like this, or I swear that I'll give up on life because what is the point of living if there is absofuckinglutely nothing to live for?

Sympathique

It's been a while, but I've been busy.

The verdict did come in for Kandin, although I was unable to be present when it was announced. Kind of glad I wasn't there because seeing his father fall apart would've been too heart-wrenching to watch with a stone-cold face. So, in case you haven't guessed it yet, the verdict was guilty for everything except extreme indifference, which doesn't mean jack shit when it comes to the actual sentencing. Basically, Kandin's going to prison for life. Maybe he can teach his fellow inmates how to behave like civilized beings, give them lessons on manners and whatnot.

I started writing a fictional piece about it, and I hope that I am able to finish it before I graduate from law school.

*WARNING: The rest of this is a rambling monologue. If you don't want to take a peek into my mind, don't read it.*

Last night I was reminded why I have such high standards to the point where I find it almost impossible to date, and why it's so wonderful to stick to those standards, as opposed to when I failed to and ended up dating my three exs (horrid men that no woman should be forced to spend time with). I'd rather be an ice-cold bitch than jump into bed with anyone who will have me.

Not to say that I don't get lonely. I do. I'm human just like everyone else. However, I can tolerate the loneliness, unlike so many others. There's no point in being in a relationship just so that you have a warm body.

I honestly don't care that some people think that I can't afford to be picky at all. And, yes, I know that I'll probably end up alone in the end, a bitter little old lady with a yippy purse dog, resentful over the fact that I don't have kids and grandkids and a husband. That's a fate that I am resigned to.

God, to be 24 and resigned to that as being the absolute truth. I am pathetic. *insert wistful smirk here*

I just ignored two phone calls from two different people. My God, I must be popular. Just kidding about the popular comment. Lord knows I'm not.

Right now I honestly don't want to be around people, particularly the people I was drinking with last night. Not because they're awful people, but I still need to mentally process some stuff. I made sure one of them didn't die in the middle of the night (choking on his own vomit while he was passed out, etc.) and that was enough.

I get...weird...when I get really drunk. Most people lose their inhibitions and get more loose and crazy. I become more prim and proper; my manners really start to shine through. For example, last night as I was leaving the final bar for the night, I picked up all of the empty bottles and glasses around me, brought them to the bar and thanked the bartender profusely for the water that he gave me to give to the friend who I had to check on this morning, That was after I had gotten so drunk that I puked on myself a bit.

Thank God I'm not really hungover, just somewhat dehydrated. I never really get hungover or blackout. It's nice that I'm always able to remember the night before, so that I can make amends or mercilessly mock those who can't remember.

I think I'll spend the rest of the day just drinking coffee and water while listening to "Sympathique" by Pink Martini over and over again until I can't stand the song anymore.

Cheaters never prosper...

Dating your coworker is one of those things that you're never supposed to do. It's even stupider when that coworker has a significant other that (s)he is moving in with and who wants to marry him/her in the near future.

Yeah, it's just a stupid summer fling for the two people in my clerkship program that I know are involved with each other. However, the woman's boyfriend was here only 2 weeks ago. He moved all of her stuff into his apartment this week while she was out here galavanting about with her new flame. Being pretty only lets you get away with some stuff, not with murder. Looks like she's going to have to find a new place once she gets back to the East Coast, or her boyfriend's more desperate than he seems. I just hope for his sake that he doesn't get a nice collection of STDs as a constant reminder of his future ex-girlfriend.

Not like the woman is the only guilty party. If someone has a significant other, that person should automatically be off-limits. I don't care how on the rocks or how open that relationship is, people who are trying to get some on the side shouldn't be touched with a ten-foot pole. Not only are you guilty of harming an innocent person, but if the person you're messing around with is willing to hop into bed with you, who knows how many other people are hopping into bed with that person as well.

Cheating is a bad idea, especially with a coworker because there's no way something like that can remain a secret indefinitely when there are people watching your interactions with one another on a daily basis.

Broken-hearted

One of the problems with trials is that there's always people involved outside of the courtroom. The murder trial that I've been blogging about is no different. Today I spoke with the father of the defendant. Once I found out who the father was (he has been waiting outside the courtroom on a daily basis, but sat inside to hear the closing arguments today), I felt compelled to compliment him on his son's manners, as something like that comes directly from how someone is raised. The old man couldn't help but get choked up and kept saying how he tried to raise his son right. Made me almost cry because you could tell that it broke his heart to see his son getting mixed up with some unsavory characters and eventually end up charged with first-degree murder (which is essentially a planned murder done in cold blood, as opposed to the heat of the moment, which I find impossible given the circumstances). The jury will begin deliberations first thing Monday morning. Knowing what little I know about the case and the defendant, if he is convicted, I doubt the judge will put him on death row. I am of the opinion that some people should go on death row (serial killers, etc.) if only to keep them from spreading their ethos to other people in the prison system and continuing their cycle of harm.

Once the conviction comes in, I will likely expand upon Kyle's testimony because at that point there'll nothing worth protecting (either he will get convicted and it'll come out somehow aside from me, or he won't be in prison).