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Bonjour, I'm Ann. I'm an 18-year-old who acts both 20 years too old and 10 years too young for my age, depending on the day. I currently live in the grand old state of Pennsylvania. Wow, right?! I'm personally not a huge fan; as soon as I graduate university, I'm headed West. I like to write, read, drink tea, and laugh. I love to be anywhere my friends are whether it's in the car going somewhere fantastic or sitting in class learning about Calculus. I myself am currently without a car, as my intelligence always seems to fail me upon stepping into the DMV; I blame the music they play. Speaking of intelligence, I've been told that I have quite a lot of it, although I am usually the one to undermine myself. Anyway, there's not much else to say that is all TOO important; just ask! <3
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petit_amour
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read my profile
sign my guestbook
Interests: Oh so much.
Expertise: Being vague and confusing, all while magically using a lot of words.
Occupation: Writer.
Industry: Art.
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/17/2006
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Oh yeah, and this is me. With a crepe. | | |
| I've learned one thing, and that's to quit worrying about stupid things. You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does... [TOM PETTY] | | |
| I'm updating right now to wrap this up. I haven't been on this blog in a long time, and who knows? - I might be back someday for good... but I didn't want to chance not coming back, leaving this all open-ended and lost and whatever.
I hope everyone and anyone reading this is doing well, dreaming and wishing and following your hearts. I hope that - if we were friends here - you might miss me a little bit when I'm away, but that you always think about me in a good light. I hope you are happy in life.
As for me? Ann... Hannah... that writer with issues? I'm okay.
Right now, as I type this, I'm just a little over half a semester into my sophomore year of university; I study English at a school just outside of Philadelphia. (We actually have an essay due tomorrow in one of my literature courses, so I'll try and be brief here.) It's going well, and although I still have NO idea what I want to do with my life, I'm working on it. Maybe, I think, maybe I'll be a writer. People seem to like when I write. I've got a good group of friends here, and an even better one back home. I'm homesick a lot this year, more depressed because I'm not living on campus... but I'm dealing with my life. I haven't ridden in over a year, and I miss it everyday. I miss this everyday.
Regardless of it all though, things have been worse in my life than they are now, and they're slowly getting better. I told one of my friends about everything recently, and have an appointment to meet with a counselor on my campus. Mom doesn't know everything yet; I don't know if she ever will.
Anyway, I don't really have much to write about, to tell you all about.
I just didn't want to leave and never come back and forget to tell you how I am.
If you - whoever you are, right now, reading this - wants to talk, I will always want to listen. You can find me on Facebook right here: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1478760244
Goodnight, and good luck. <3 | | |
| "An eating disorder is characterized by abnormal eating habits."
It's not always about starving yourself, or making yourself sick, or striving to be skinny, or habitually counting every single damned calorie then running them off, or anything you might expect it to be about. Sometimes - most times, I hear - it's about control.
This is how your life will happen.
You are born... abnormal, navy blue with the cord wrapped around your neck, fairly small though late, dead before you're even alive; but the doctor smacks you and you cry out.
You live your life as best you can. Dad and Mom fight, mostly because he gets drunk and smokes weed every day after work then comes home to abuse some more. They get divorced when you're in middle school. Mom is the best parent you could ask for, but you both know you'll probably be messed up forever.
You start eating strangely, and Mom grows concerned. In high school, they inadvertently proclaim your issues an eating disorder, and Mom always asks what you eat, tells the lunch lady to check up on you. You don't die. In fact, you seem to get better, to recover.
You - somehow - make it to graduation. (Your friends have helped a lot with all of that.) You are considerably healthier and "better." Your grandmother's alma mater has accepted you; you leave for university on a sticky-hot day in the late summer. You throw up for nerves that morning, but don't think about food while you do it.
You and your roommate live in quiet tolerance for each other, not best friends yet not enemies either. She obsesses over meal plans, but in a different way than you: she wants to eat, as much as she can, whenever she wants. One night she asks you about God; you explain how much you love Him and how you've always been a strong believer and how great everything is with Jesus in your life. Little do you know that you're telling her a lie, getting sick again without even realizing. She dates some kid who does heroin, and you turn 19 soon after they break-up. Adulthood is suddenly real; you want to run away.
Going home from school the first time is strange: you feel awkward and keep running into chairs you don't remember being around; Mom says you've lost a lot of weight; every time you eat the sick feeling occurs, which you explain to Mom, who decides if it keeps up you'll go to the doctor. Maybe Mom will wonder if you want to stay at university because she "expected you to be back home before a month." You don't want to leave: things at school are perfect.
Your "college friends are amazing people. You've truly found a great, honest, and loving support group; mostly girls from your hall, but some from class, as well. They all joke about you not eating, though you can feel the concern in their eyes and see their sideways glances.
You think you're okay because you eat the peanut M&Ms from the vending machine in the lounge. But you still separate them by colours, and can only give people the blue ones if they ask.
I don't want this anymore. It's been most of a year by now; I thought we were done with this.
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| After biting the bullet and delaying the finish of Three Cups Of Tea, which is terrific, to read Breaking Dawn, I'm tempted to jump out a window. Way to ruin everything that you built there, Meyer. I mean, I heard it was terrible, but... it's like, really terrible. Like, loose all my respect for what I saw (tried to see?) in her as a writer and want to return all the books and just reread all the books I love that I know won't fail me [Harry Potter (minus the epilogue which is an entirely different story), ftw!] and then jump out a window to hopefully not be made a part of some weird Mary Sue-toting vampire clan that is extremely fickle with their opinions of werewolves/shapeshifters/whatever. And I can honestly say I wish I wasn't as disappointed.
I already sort of hate myself for liking the first three (or, honestly, mostly the second one,) and my initial dystopia at liking them is proven to have a point. Ugh, someone open the window-frame now... A nice rant for you that was brought on by some insomnia-caused teen angst/mania; hope you were entertained or something, haa. <3 | | |
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