So, last night I was listening to My Sacrifice by Creed (don't judge me).

Me: Oh God! My world just crashed in around me!
Carlos: What? Why?
Me: This song!
Carlos: What about it?
Me: It's about JESUS.
Carlos: ... yes, yes it is Kendra...


...What you have to understand here is that I used to be a really big Creed fan, and to this day I still deny that they are the worst band of all time. But anyways, I read in an interview once that the band did not consider themselves to be a "religious" band and most of their songs were not, in fact, about Jesus. AND I BELIEVED THEM.

Also, just so long as I'm making fun of myself, every time I see Carlos' Mexican passport I immediately think "Wow! It's in English!". I don't know why the word "Mexico" looks like English to me, I guess I just expect a completely different alphabet? This was pretty hilarious the first time I thought this, but then it happened again. My brain sometimes, man.

...I don't even know. Apparently he was trying to hook a line to put an antenae in the tree?

I don't know. But I am incredibly freaked out right now and I don't know why. It's not even anxiousness, I'm afraid of something. Someone tell me a happy story of joy and bunnies please.

One our first purchases as a married couple and living together will be a ferret.

I want something fuzzy to love. I am so excited for the end of this semester. A ferret will be spectacular.

Thanks to my writing classes once again forcing me to write, I have new material. I have written 2 poems and started on a rather epic short story which I'm rather liking. It's about a girl who killed herself and is rudely awakened by the time of Revelation and Judgement. I'm rather liking it. You can tell, though, that I'm taking a class on the apocalypse in ancient writings though.


( But anyways, a poem. )

Oh and by the way, my hair is now red if you could not tell.

I have a question for you lot:

At what point does one refer to a member of the male sex a "man"? When is it no longer appropriate and it is, in fact, almost rude to refer to him as a "boy"? Is there a gray area when referring to him as a "man" is just clearly ridiculous and pretentious and much too soon?

I always get caught in this. Usually I use the generic term "guy," but I would like to be able to decisively call people around me by their proper... pronouns? Nouns? Something like that. And if I don't use "guy" I use "boy" so at least I'm not putting too much pressure on them to behave more maturely than they feel they ought.

I just want it to stop hurting and know how it's going to turn ou int the end.

So, on the weekends I'm not a waitress, I am a "busperson" so I don't get full tips. Unless the table really likes me. Like today.

My Manager (after I had been handed a $15 personal tip from a customer): Woah. Woah. Woah. What did you do to deserve that?
Me: Table dance?


But seriously though. My job is great and my manager kind of loves me a lot as the least incompetent bus person they have had basically... ever. He loves me so much that he's going to let me actually waitress during busy times! Which is good because there are people who have been working there for years who still aren't really allowed near the customers, and these people speak english.

So pretty much I got to California and have been working ever since. I showed up to a restaurant near my house in Moss Beach and was like "give me a job" and the manager was like "...k. Come back at 3" so I did and now I am a waitress making a ridiculous amount in tips and working long, tiring shifts and getting free food. It's a good gig. The people are laid-back and I deeply regret my atrocious Spanish because the kitchen is entirely populated by very nice Mexican men who don't speak English really. This actually sometimes works to my advantage as sometimes I get wonderful happy language-barrier accidents, like enormous chocolate milkshakes that I never asked for but am only too pleased to drink. This has happened twice--once I was trying to ask someone about milkshakes and I wound up with one, and then another time there was a woman who spoke less English than anyone else who just handed me a hot chocolate as an "I don't understand you and you don't understand me but let's be friends" sort of peace offering and that was very good too. Less than happily, however, I have discovered that Mexicans cannot pronounce my name for the life of them. It turns into this long, protracted sort of thing as they try to figure out my name and it sort of sounds like "Kkk...AH... N...D...R...A..." and they sort of spell it out. The closest they really get is "Cassandra" and one of them is attempting to sort of train me to the name "Cassandra" for all of their sakes, but really if they just asked "Can I call you Cassandra" it wouldn't matter to me. Basically the whole thing makes me think OH GOD WHY IS MY SPANISH SO BAD WHY DO I SPEAK FRENCH WHEN ALL I WANT IS SPANISH RIGHT NOW.

Ok now I am rambling. I just got my driver's permit and am waiting for my mother to stop playing World of Warcraft so I can go practise. (Yes. WoW. My mom is now addicted and when she first started playing she completely freaked out for about 20 minutes over killing a rabbit. I have a silly silly family).


So... yes. That is my life so far this summer.

Lauren and Ellen have decided that the perfect way to exit an awkward situation is to look at your phone (or pretend your spidey sense is tingling) and say "Ellen is pregnant. I have to go." and then HAUL ASS out of there.

Then we began talking about Under Pressure and how one of Ellen's friends lost his virginity to the song (which, by the way, Lauren and I have decided must be a terrible song to lose your cherry to if you are male because let's face it. You're just reminding your girlfriend that you are neither as sexy or talented or amazing as Freddy Mercury and David Bowie.) and how you would invariably begin fucking to the beat. (dun-dun-dun duhduhduh-dun).

OK so how these two stories are related. Basically now I have an incredible urge to fuck to Under Pressure (making sure to keep the beat), then, suddenly, my spidey sense will tingle and I will say "Ellen is pregnant. I have to go" and run away to Lauren's room (naked of course).


I think Jesse would absolutely kill me. Or never have sex with me again EVER.

I still can't believe he did it.

Neil Gaiman was in Powells buying books with his daughter. Neil Gaiman is in Portland... right now. And I was in Portland just the other day. WHY GOD WHY did I not STALK HIM?

Mommy, I'm going to therapy. It's something I've needed for a long time, and I just don't know how to cope anymore. They've pretty much already diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder, and I'm not disagreeing. It's nobody's fault and it has nothing to do with my situation in life and it's not something I can just suck it up and deal with anymore. I'm so sad, mommy, and I've been so sad for so many years. I should have done something a long time ago and just talked about it. I would have had a better time in high school and I would have done my homework. I'm not trying to make excuses for my life or the way I've dealt with school or anything else. I should have gotten help before and that was no one's fault but my own. The truth is I've been dealing with life all the wrong way. I've just wanted out or escape or something and I just didn't want to deal with anything because the truth is dealing just makes it so much worse and the last few years I haven't been handling things like an adult because I've been focusing too much on trying not to be so fucking sad. I went to college for all the wrong reasons--I wanted to run away because I thought that would make things better, and I wanted to go to school with one of the only people that truly makes me happy. It hasn't. I'm still sad. But now that I'm here, even though it hasn't solved the problems I ran away for, I'm doing well here. Not as well as I could be doing, you and dad are both right about that. But it's not a waste of money, and I'm trying to get the help I need so that I can be both happy and make the most of my college experience. Next week I have an appointment on Thursday for final medical evaluation so they can assess what kind of medications I should be on, namely, which antidepressant. I'm not just going to take the pills and hope I get better though. I know people that do that/have done it and it's not the right way to get better. Pills just help you get to an emotionally neutral level so you can cope with life better and, with therapy, learn to bring yourself up, and that's what I'm hoping to do. The therapy is free here, and the therapist I've seen seems like a good person. I'm going to need help with the medications though. I need to check to make sure antidepressants are covered by insurance. I'm pretty sure most are--it's usually therapy that isn't covered by insurance, but since that's free we don't have to worry.

I love you,
Kendra

I'm going to therapy.

They told me I had Major Depressive Disorder and I'm getting meds next week and I have another appointment next week for more therapy.

I am going to get better. I will.

This summer, though... I need to get out. Maybe not the whole summer. I just need to live somewhere else for a while. Maybe a week or two. Maybe with Carlos. Maybe with Colleen. I just need to get away, and I don't have the funds to just move out somewhere new for the summer.

I'm not going to be getting any sleep tonight. I'm going to e-mail my parents and tell them.

yes or no?

I am officially off of birth control and I feel so much better. I feel more like myself the last few days than I have in a long time. My dreams have been amazing and like whole stories and books.

Watching doctor shows is scaring the shit out of me. Especially given the last woman on House died of a bleeding ulcer and on Scrubs everyone died from organ transplants.

I am feeling very sick right now.

I might have an ulcer. And if it's not an ulcer I don't know what the fuck it is so I'm actually kind of hoping for that.

I am feeling sick constantly, and I might have a urinary tract infection. Also, lately I've had an uncontrollable urge I haven't had in years to suck in when I sit down and it just makes me SICKER.

Also I have decided to finally go to the school therapist. Which is kind of 4 years overdue.

I don't really know what else to say. It's been a while since I updated and I still don't know what to talk about.

Tonight was the BIG midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Which meant that there was a costume contest.


Which I was in.

Which I got second place in, with a lingerie top, small black boyshorts, a garter belt and some tights.


I SHOULD have gotten first, as the ENTIRE back half of the theatre was cheering for me, and the front was cheering for her, so I blame it on accoustics.

Still, second place out of somewhere between 20-30 girls is fucking BALLER and I win at life.

But it still irks me that the first place prize was $100 worth of pizza (in a gift certificate, not all at once) and the second place was... a CD. Seems like a steep curve there.