urban dictionary

So, I read on MLIA today that someone put their name into Urban Dictionary. So I was like...hmmn. I should try that. And I got this, and laughed SO HARD - both for the accuracies, and the slight inaccuracies...but mostly the accuracies.


Danielle:

Intense, fiery female possessing the ability to affect person, place, and immediate surroundings. Frequently manifesting such conflicting extremes that the outcome is usually one of lucidity or confusion. .....Other characteristics of Danielle are : abundance of curly locks of hair, discernable voice capable of pitches that can crack ice, Buckcherry released a song about 'Danielle' entitle CRAZY BITCH, Danielle is always late. She can be your most fearless, strong and loyal friend, or your most feared, relentless mortal enemy.



Haha! Isn't that the greatest?

I looked up 'Della' too, just because most of my home-friends call me that..I only get called Danielle at my parent's house & Chad's house. I don't even think Cassie's parents know what my name is, which makes me happy in a weird sort of way.

Della was really conflicted, though. The first two were pretty :

A type of person who is always there when you need them, a shoulder to cry on;

The most beautiful girl in the world. She will make you enjoy yourself, no matter what!


I'd love to say that's who I am, but I'm just not that amazing. The rest were pretty awful - redneck whore, bitchy secretary, etcetera, etcetera. Glad to say that doesn't fit me, either. I get such a kick out of it - I always talk about how my name doesn't fit me, how names like steevo and della and dee feel more like me than danielle ever has - and yet, when you look at the Urban Dictionary definition, Danielle fits me best.

dinosaurs

Some days I will pretend I'm not upset at all, and some days I will tell you everything, every tiny thought that crosses my brain. Some days I'll be hard and cold, and some days the memeory of a stuffed dinosaur I lost when I was four will make me bawl my eyes out. And some nights, some nights are going to be the kind where I have to surround myself with blankets and pillows just to feel like no one's going to strangle me in my sleep....others will be the kind where I can't sleep, and want to go adventuring at two in the morning. There will be flashbacks and crying jags and entire days that I spend in sweatpants, just wanting it all to be over so I can wake up and try again. I need your hugs, I need you to not make me feel like a crazy person...because sometimes, I'm not so sure, myself.

chipmunk

Right now, I have chipmunk cheeks. I look more than a little ridiculous....but, I ate solid food - a tiny, tiny amount of pasta, and like 7 pizza rolls! I doubt I'll be able to do it tommorrow -eggs, soup and smoothies. The pizza rolls were nice, but it's so freaking hard to eat them, it's almost not worth it.

I look so manly..I kind of hate it. It's hard to feel good when you don't look good, you know? And poor lyssa just got dumped - I really, really want to go help her, but she won't let me do anything, which makes it so much more frustrating. Tell me your problems, sure - but let me help, too. Let me advise, let me comfort, let me be a part of the healing process.

Either way, this has been a good weekend. I got to talk to Lita for a while, which is almost as good as spending time with her, and tommorrow (hopefully) I'll get to chill with Cass. I might pop by Lyssa's, too, just to lend an ear/hug.

sweet, sweet relief.

So....I got an extension on the test , and I took it, and I got a 92, which is an LCCC 'A'. Not sure I'll do well in the whole class, but I feel a lot better.

I was really freaked out this morning. I got up 15 minutes early, so I could get my breakfast and stuff together....the second I woke up I was puking. I was so stressed, and my body shook all morning. I went to school and took my interviewing final, which was pretty easy, and then my mom called to tell me I got the extension. Good, right? Yeah, I thought so too. The rest of the morning went pretty well - got $202 back for my books, which isn't nearly what I spent on them, but it's something, and handed in my variance request. I took one of my quizzes today, so now I just have 4 left, and the final, which will altogether only take me a few hours....when I'm done with everything, I'm taking a nice, long hot bath.

I don't have my surgery tommorrow until 2 pm....I have to get up at 7:30 to eat, but I'm going back to bed. After that, it's like 2 or 3 days of no real food, just jello, pudding, and wanting to kill myself. Today was supposed to be my 'final supper' sort of deal, but my nerves are still shot. I could hardly choke down two eggrolls, and even then I didn't finish most of the second one. I hope I feel better after my econ final. Even if I do okay in this class....my stress level is so high, my back is in knots, and my stomach is this grumbly angry thing.

Soon, though. I'm going to work, then Econ, and then, at last, I'll be done with everything, and I can work on Carly's Christmas present, and get together my ideas for everyone else, and....

...and then I can have my face ripped open tommorrow, and be drugged out for a few days. My mom said I probably won't even remember the ride home....is it bad, that I'm kind of looking forward to that?

failure

I missed the final for my online test....and now i'm pretty sure I'm going to fail it.

It was totally my fault, I misread the date and that is TOTALLY my fault. I'm so ashamed...I'll probably have to take the course over, it's going to mess up my GPA. I'm embarassed, I'm frustrated, I keep face-palming and I want to cry so much.

I'm smart. It's one of my only redeeming qualities. I'm not particularly pleasant, I'm not pretty, I'm not charming....but I'm smart. I'm not even all that smart, to be honest...and I'm kind of lazy...but it's something, you know? Maybe it's my mother's rejection, maybe it's the fact that I'm adopted and something needs to make me worth keeping...I always feel like I have to prove to people that I deserve the space i'm taking up on the Earth, though, that I'm worth it. I don't feel so worth it right now - epic fail, to the nth degree. I wasn't supposed to do bad. I've been taking 18 credits every semester since my first semester, and I'm been fine. My counselor even gives me rave reviews. And I was brag worthy and I was doing good, and now I have fallen flat on my face and wasted my parents' money and wasted my time. I'm probably going to have to take this class over, I'm going to have a 3. God-knows-what.....I know it's not going to be a big deal in a little while, hopefully, but I still want to cry so much. It's like the ultimate sign of weakness....they stressed and they piled on the pressure and I didn't stay solid - I cracked.

pianissimo

Today, I was listening to Regina Spektor - I love The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, I do, but I needed something happier - and I was fantasizing. I'm silly...I like to think about performing, even though

a) I can't sing to save my life

and

b) I haven't played an instrument in YEARS

If I ever did perform, it would be a little thing, in a Barnes and Noble the way Aaron does. But, that'll never happen....

Anywho, I was listening, and singing along...and I just had thins longing to play again. I stopped playing guitar in 10th grade...I stopped piano in 8th. I haven't played the piano in like, six years...but there's one in my house, and it's not going anywhere, and I still have the books. Could I learn?

Do I have the time? I don't know. But I miss the feeling of the keys beneath my fingers, I miss the way my hands glided over them, and the feeling of my hand contorting, struggling so hard to span an octave, coerce a beautiful sound. I could hardly read music then, and I certainly can't now, but I still want to try. Writing is a wonderful outlet, but there are so many things words can't say. Music...music is more primal, something close to the heart. Words are lovely, but we as humans....we need to use our hands, too, to feel completely connected with our expressions, to create with our bodies, and not just our minds.

I sound silly, I know. The thought of pounding those keys though, of my body rocking back and forth again, of being completely lost in the sound....I look forward to that immensly.

Newsflash : I AM EVIL

Another conversation with my mom, about how I am the devil, and I don't want to change, and how I'm the kid that she completely screwed up on. And I can agree with her on some aspects - she let me get away with too much as a kid, for a long time I thought that I should get my way, all the time, and that what I wanted was the best idea. But I have changed since then, I have grown.

But if the growth isn't her way, then it's not really growth, now, is it? I read novels. I wrote a novel. And you know what? THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME A BAD PERSON. According to my mother, my brother, my father, though, it does. Why? Because they don't read! I love my religion, I really, truly do, aIn nd I love God, but I get so sick of the people who are supposed to represent him running around and pointing fingers, crying 'evil' at everything they don't understand. Why is a novel bad? I just don't get it. Jesus used FICTIONAL parables to demonstrate his point. JESUS used FICTION. I'm sorry, saying that 'if it didn't actually happen, then it's a lie and therefore a sin' is bullcrock. Fiction is a powerful tool that can be used to demonstrate a point, to say something that needs to be said, and, quite frankly it's one of the only mediums that I can understand. The argument here is so stupid - fiction is bad, even though Jesus used it, because novels are 'trash'. Okay, so what novels? Are we talking about 'Fountains of Desire' here? I can agree, that's trash. But Just Listen? Yes, that's terrible, putting rape into an empowering story based off of true-life experiences of girls that Sarah Dessen interviewed, how DARE you create a story that shows people how to overcome adversary! Or, how about In the Region of Ice, where Joyce Carol Oates demonstrates that Christianity without love and compassion is just this cold and ugly thing? Is that trash?

Maybe my brother's video games are trash. Or maybe Grey's Anatomy, which my mom watches nightly, is trash. Maybe the sports that my dad is addicted to are a steamy pile of horse defecation. Novels are like any other medium - some are good, some are bad. Some are so awful, they have no excuse to exist. The focus here is on the medium, not the message, and it infuriates me - isn't our ABC half-filled with novels? Historical novels, religious novels, but still NOVELS. Are we going to burn books because of a half-thought notion? I don't see the sense here, and it makes me so mad that because I disagree with something I don't even think my family members fully understand, I am unwilling to change, and therefore I am evil. I thought we had come so far, but the progress only shows when I'm sitting with my mouth sewn shut, agreeing with everything they say. I kept flashing back, today, to five years ago when I told my mother there was nothing wrong with Aerosmith, that it made me happy, and she told me that I was going to go to hell with my evil music. I keep thinking things have changed, but htey haven't - I'm still 15, barred and angry, and there's still no one listening.

i posted it last night on ap and practically died of shame.

I am the dirty house
where he almost
killed you. I am
the tears you cried

while they arrested him.

The stars were so bright
overhead
and I kept staring
like they could
beam me away,
but the stars didn't
rescue me
and my dreams didn't save me
like they do
in the movies.

I am the graveyard
solemn and still,
that watched our lives
play out with such
flippancy,
the arguments and
my night-time songs,
a child's light heart
darkened by your
mistakes.

Do you remember
the beer bottles on
the window sill?
The broken glass that
cut my feet, the nights he
locked me in
my room? Were you
looking away,
or did you just
not
care?

I am the radio
that played with such
eerie cheer
through the police sirens
and shouting matches,
through my own screams,
still playing those
happy songs
where only sobs belong.

On sunday, next sunday, school will be over and my family will be gone all day and I will be alone. I made a plan and told Cass about it - I am going to write everything down, start to finish. I am going to write about the house and gary and marilyn and all of it - every damned thing that happened to me, everything that's been bubbling up and killing me. I am going to write it out, as long as it takes, I am going to take it outside, into the firebarrel, and I am going to burn it all.

But now, I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't. There's a part of me that wants to show someone....to say 'here. this is what happened to me, all of it. this is the ugliness that's in me, this is what i wake up feeling every morning.' I want someone to know...I couldn't even tell you why. I feel like all my life I've been talking in circles, trying to get this out of me...but I never can. I can never say it all, can never squeeze the last of it out. I talk in circles and squares, I try so hard to say it, but it's like the words can't leave my lips. I am so afraid of what people will think...in a way, I want to hand the paper over, and watch myself change right before someone's eyes. I want someone to look inside me, really look, and see how dark and ugly my head is, all the things that just don't go away, the flashbacks and the memories, the little girl who is still curled up in the corner, waiting for her mother to say, finally, that she's worth trying for. I want so badly to be understood...but I don't think I will be, and so it's easier to just keep it all in my head, and not burden anyone with it. As much as I want to show someone, I know already that I'll wind up burning that paper - I'm already feeling super-rejected, putting myself up for disappointment is only going to make things worse.

worst thing

The worst thing about me isn't that I lie, exactly. It's that I hide things....I withold.

I don't think I always was this way...at least, I remember someone once saying that they loved me because I was blunt. Where did that bluntness go? I don't know. So much of me is pushed back, held in. I can't remember the last time I told someone what I thought, point blank. I give them what I think they can take.

Like my mom. I don't tell her half of what I do, or even the things she has a right to know. I clip things short and leave things out, I shorten, condense, I take out the things she can't handle, or the things I think she won't like. I censor myself so that I am what she needs me to be.

Or Lisa. I'm typically so careful with her, I only tell her what needs to be said, or I try to keep the conversation pleasant. I'm afraid that if I tell her what I really think of what she does, of her boyfriend and her lifestyle, I'll just push her away. I don't want to be seen as judgemental, you know? I don't agree with what she's doing, but I'm not sure what's my place anymore. I want us to be so much closer than we are, I don't know how to get there if I'm lying, but I don't think she'll want me if I tell her how I really feel.

I've begun to lie to other people, too. Sometimes I feel like all I do is lie, cut something out here or something else out there. And now I'm realizing that I've held all of my past in, setting out a piece or two here or there for someone to see, but keeping it all in, hiding it away. Because I don't know who I can tell who could take it, I don't know who would be hurt or upset...I don't want people to look at me like that, as something broken and ugly , I don't want to drop my burdens on their head. As a result, all of this is in me, and now it's all been brought to the surface and it won't stop coming, I can't make it go away.

All I can think about are the times I wanted to say something, but didn't. The times I wanted to tell you how I felt, but was afraid that it would push you away. I wonder if that's why we are the way we are, or if nothing could have fixed it. I wonder if all of this was coming either way, or if I could have done something.

I can't break your fall forever

Not What You Wanted - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club


You know you've got a lot to learn
You feel it but your heart won't burn
The fear is running every nerve
You're turning to the one's you've hurt
Nothing ever satisfies
You're screaming but your tongue's still tied
Starving but your love won't feed
Nothing ever sets you free

You know you've got a long way down
You'll feel it when you hit the ground

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters

Pinned inside the walls of sound
Reaching but your hands are bound
Crying but your love's so sweet
You're singing but your heart still weeps

And no one ever seems to care
feels like she walks on air

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters

I can't wait for time to save us
And I can't break your fall forever

'Cause you always take
You always take too much
You always take
You always take too much

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters.

bitter

I don't know how it happened ...or maybe I do. since this summer, I've become such a bitter person....bitter, and kind of angry, too.

For so, so long, I refused to play the pity card. Refused, because really, it's not all that bad, right? Maybe my mom didn't want me - someone did. And maybe I had a rough past, terrible childhood memories ....all of that was behind me, right? Life could only get better, and to put all that away and have a positive attitude was the best thing to do.

Since my mom got sick, and she disappeared, though, I just haven't been able to do that. Most days, yeah, I'm fine. But lately, there's this bubbling inside of me, a feeling I can't even put words to...it makes me so sad, and so angry, and so pissed at every person who has two parents who love them. I know all the right answers - it shouldn't matter, because I have a family woh loves me, other people have it worse, things turned out okay, didn't they? Blah, blah, blah. That doesn't make it fair. How come everyone else gets a mother, and I get stuck with someone who couldn't even set her beer down long enough to hold me? I want a mother. I want someone who looks like me, someone who acts like me, I want to feel like I am a part of someone else. I want to be part of a family where I don't have to prove myself, where I don't have to hold up a legal document to show everyone that I belong to them.

Nobody looks like me, not even my mother. I am barely a part of my family - half of them don't even consider me family. I'm sick of having to be grateful for everything - don't I deserve to be loved, to have grown up in a family where people provided for me? I hate that I have to be thankful for the love, thankful for the acceptance. I hate that whenever I feel like this, whenever I wish my first family had worked out, I feel like a traitor, like I am backstabbing my family. I am frustrated, I am angry, I am bitter and sad and filled with this awful loneliness. I have never been a part of that bigger picture, a puzzle piece to make some sky, or grass. I don't even know what puzzle I go to.

tired

I'm done....I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. I feel like right now, I have nothing left of myself to give, like I'm empty, all hollow and echo-y inside. I slept for ten hours this morning, then took a two hour nap this afternoon...and I'm still tired. I spent all night writing a paper, I'll spend all tommorrow writing a paper...I really don't know when I'll next have time for me. Monday night I'm working on a project (which might wind up on youtube, go figure) and I won't be able to sleep well until we do the presentation on Wednesday, which is going to be so damn embarassing.

I'm sleepy. I just want to not, you know? I want school to be over...but it's not. Two more weeks, right? After tommorrow, all my major projects will be taken care of. After Wednesday, all I'll have to worry about is finals.

This is going to sound awful, but I'm going to say it anyway: I'm looking forward to having my wisdom teeth out. Weird, right? It's going to hurt, and I'm going to look awful and chipmunk-y, and only be able to eat soft liquid-y things, and I'll have gaping holes in my face. Then again, it's december 18th, right? A friday. I don't have school, I took off work...I'll get my teeth pulled out, get put on strong, STRONG drugs for a day or two, and have an excuse to just sort of veg out. No school, no work..nothing, just free time and sleep. So much sleep, so much writing..maybe even just video games, y'know? No one will expect me to do anything, though....I won't have anything that needs to be done, I can sleep all day without getting yelled at or feeling guilty, I'll be knocked out on painkillers for so much of it....I'm just looking forward to being allowed to feel like crap. I have this can-do attitude all the time, it's become something that people expect of me. I feel like I'm not allowed to be weak, not allowed to have those moments where I'm just pissed at the world, or annoyed, or angry. Everything is so quick with me, though - I'm mad, then I'm done. I don't understand why it's such a hard concept to grasp, why no one seems to understand, even now, that I won't stay angry, it's almost physically impossible for me...I just need to fume for a while, get it out of my system.

I should go to bed. I want to be up by 10 tommorrow, start my paper AT THE LATEST by noon. Paper and test....I'll be busy, tommorrow. It's okay, though, because I'll be free on the 18th...free, and probably high as a kite.

shaking

today sucked. It just....oh, it was awful. People still have the capability to make me feel inhuman, lower than anything that has ever existed...I am ugly because of my past, because I was abused, and I am even uglier for understanding my abuse, for not being appalled and disgusted by it. How long can you hold yourself away, and be disgusted by the things that are part of you, though? How long do I have to hate what made me who I am before I am allowed to accept it?

I am shaking and hurt and I keep having flashbacks, of being invisible, of being hurt, of being unwanted. I can't stop feeling so small and so ugly, sub-human..I used to feel this way all the time when I was little, and that just makes me feel uglier. They talked about abuse and neglect like a lifetime movie or the news, something foreign and outside of their understanding. It'd not outside of my understanding, it is my understanding...it's my life. I am that little girl in the lifetime movie, or on the news. It makes me feel slimey all over...it makes my skin itch.