Profile

Name: Mia
Age: 22
Nationality: Icelandic
Birthdate: September 19th, 1982
Occupation: Village idiot and aspiring rich widow
Favorite movies: American Beauty, The Notebook, Vanilla Sky, Lost in Translation, anything by Woody Allen, The Straight Story, In The Bedroom, Monster's Ball, The Bridges of Madison County, Carlito's Way, Dazed and Confused, The Burbs, The Breakfast Club, About Schmidt, Teen Witch (don't ask)

Favorite books: The Kitchen God's Wife, The Bonesetter's Daughter, The Joy Luck Club. The Hundred Secret Senses, The Lovely Bones, Fried Green Tomatos at The Whistle Stop Cafe, Daisy Fay and The Miracle Man, Where The Devil's Island Rises, Independant People

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What can I say? My milkshake is just that good.

Life's short and hard like a body building elf

Life is not a bitch, life is a beautiful woman. You're just mad coz she won't let you get that pussy.

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If you're weird enough, this is hysterical. *
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Everything from the hilarious to the disgusting (no, not my photo album) *
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October 25, 2004

Is it just me, or are people hauling ass down the aisle in record numbers at the moment? In the past two months or so, 4 people I know have gotten married. All these weddings are stirring up some old and rather unattractive feelings in me for some reason. Don't get me wrong, far be it from me to begrudge them their happiness. Not at all. I really am very happy for each and every one of them. But at the same time, it reminds me of how everything I wanted went to someone else. Thinking back in time, a lot of these people have had it kind of crappy in the past while I have had it pretty good. Do you ever wonder if we're all on some kind of cosmic cycle? While I'm up, they're down... and vice versa. If that's the case then isn't it kind of wrong of me to want things to get better for me? Isn't that almost the same as hoping things get worse for everyone else? I think I'm on an opposite end of the cycle from the rest of the world. I can't think of a single person I know that isn't having some kind of miraculous life event right about now and is deleriously happy... except for me. If I were a good and ethical person, shouldn't I be wishing that things remained in the status quo for the greater good, and stop worrying about my own damn temporal happiness? Is anyone really that gracious though, aren't we all just selfish pigs when it gets right down to it? I'll be the first to admit that I am. And while everyone around me stomps around in their wading pool of happiness, I'm reminded only of everything I don't have in my life and every part of me is screaming for me to have some kind of emotion about that. But honestly, I'm afraid to because I don't want to know what it'd be.

Having said all that though...

I never seem to give a single thought to all of the things that I DO have in my life. It's so sick that I only seem to bother placing a value on the things I covet whilst entirely overlooking what I already possess. I have a home, I have faith, I have a family, I have a second family, I have friends, I have suffered no major pitfalls or tragedies in my life, I have the chance to get an education (albeit wasted), I have minimal obligations and maximal room to screw up. One of these days, some of those things are going to be gone from me and I'll never realize until then how much they were actually worth. And I'll never realize how much I owe some people until I no longer have a chance to tell them they're appreciated.

I'm beginning to sound like a Hallmark card.

I hate how depressing winters are, it always feels like I've been poisoned. From September through April, I'm in a holding pattern. Just waiting for the sun to come out, the icky snow to get off the streets and the urge to scream to get out of my body. I don't care if the summer is just as crappy. It's summer and therefore by definition will never be as crappy as winter. Things just don't bother me as much. Well that's not true. They bother me, but I just have a hearty cry about it and keep on trucking. They don't engulf me like they do in the wintertime. So one is inclined to ask oneself, what in the Sam Hill am I doing living in the coldest, darkest, creppiest place on earth? I'm equally baffled, really.

Mia :: 3:22 AM

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October 10, 2004

The despair has reached a critical level, ladies and gentlemen. It has gotten so far that I am actually looking in the other direction and pretending not to notice that my friend is trying to find someone to set me up with. She's trying to get someone that she's seeing to find me a guy, and as far as I could tell out of the corner of my eye someone has been found. Now, I'm fairly positive this is some autistic individual with pyromania issues but like I said, despair has reached a critical level.

She has tried to set me up with someone twice before. The first time I actually went along with it and went on the date, and consider that date to this day to be the absolute worst date I have ever been on. The second time I entertained the idea so far as to see who they would come up with, and then I axed the plan there and it never went any further. I think the problem is that I am such an incomparably nice girl, that she is asking these boyfriends of hers to find me a "nice guy". And as we all know, if you ask a guy to find a "nice guy" they will come up with some hairbrain process of figuring out who is "nice". "Nice" to men means "has not been out boning (or trying to bone) everyone in town and shows little to no tendencies towards such behavior". Which is fair enough. Only they make no distinction between people's motivations and the reasons WHY they aren't going around trying to stick it in everything but an electrical socket. Only one reason is the "right" one, that is that the man is of too high a moral calibre to consider such actions and is actually a "nice guy". Various others exist however, such as autism, depression, closet homosexuality...etc. So, long story short, men will usually hear "nice guy" and come up with "Hmm. Eugene hasn't left his room in four months... I'll bet he's a nice guy". So I end up on a date with Eugene and his talking hand puppet.

The one blind date she set me up on that I did go on replays regularly in my nightmares. I won't go into the gruesome details too much, but lets just say the guy showed up in carrot pants, a leather bomber jacket and a ski mask, made random comments about my derriere, crooned love songs into my ear, wore huge black horn rimmed glasses during the movie and demanded to sit with his arm around me, forcing me to sit hunched over during all 3 hours of A Beautiful Mind. A movie whose main character my date seemed to have suspiciously much in common with. Enough said.

I ran into him in a nightclub some weeks later where he demonstrated how limber he was. Yes, I said limber. He was so limber that he was able to bend into a position which enabled him to perform oral sex on himself. And then he sang some more love songs.

So you can appreciate the incredible bravery I'm displaying by actually considering being set up on another blind date. But times are hard and as they say, any port in a storm.

I don't know though, sometimes I wonder what the point even is. Me and my friend through scientific methods determined that my ideal guy would have to have slicked back hair and a clearly defined six pack, but he would also have to be part Harry Potter. And if I may shamelessly add, it wouldn't hurt if he was a significant part Owen Wilson either. But having said that, I honestly can't even dream up the perfect billionaire movie star love God that I would choose over a certain individual. Even the dreary serial killer blind dates seem even drearier when you know who the person is who makes everything come together for you and look like fate, the person who embodies everything you could wish for in a friend, lover, husband and a companion, the person who is everything you could've dreamt up on your own and all the perfect other stuff you would never even have thought of. I don't know, it's always difficult to get excited about second best.

But oh well! You have to cowboy up and move on, leave it all behind you and put away your hopes that a U-Haul truck will run over his wife in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Although I was never even commited to that idea. I'm a christian. I don't wish for such ghastly things. I was far more attracted to the idea that three angels would appear to him and tell him all the little things about me that he missed, all the stuff he could've (and would've) loved if he'd paid me some more attention and he would realize that I was his one true love forever, Amen. I found that to be a much more viable option. Uhm, but anyway... I've gotten ahead of myself here.

Well. Anyway. Enough with this outrageous explosion of the overly sentimental.

In other news, I'm getting fatter again. Those who know me will know that I am normally a frighteningly skinny individual who regularly plays her ribs like the mandolin at gatherings, but alas, my trainspotter days have drawn to a close as I am beginning to far more resemble Dom DeLuise than Kate Moss. Although it has to be said, in all fairness, I never did resemble Kate Moss to begin with but I digress. I was going to go to the gym tonight, but I was stopped dead in my tracks on my way out the door when I took one look at my tennis shoes and realized they are nowhere near up to par. You can't take your first steps towards a new life in crappy shoes, obviously, so my gym trip was put on hold until further notice. I will have to go shopping here soon for new shoes while I can still get around normally and don't have to be lifted out through the roof by crane. Which means, it will have to be this week.


Mia :: 8:31 PM

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