usually crazy
My name is Danielle and I'm
an evolved jellyfish with
an exoskeleton and four eyes.
I often look like a mess
and I blog about it along the way.
Wanna know anything else?
Read my blog ya ninny.
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Photo reblogged from fyeahadventuretime
me this morning. An absent, hollow look and a small mug of whatever-the-hell to wake me up.
8-3 shifts, I have stared you in the face and you are my mortal enemy
(Source: ad0lf-hipst4r)
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Photo reblogged from
As a young seven year old with almost every video game for the SNES in a folder on my desktop — emulators were the start of an incredibly beautiful friendship — this video game was on the same tier as Super Mario Bros. 3. It was the one I would play any time, the one I figured out how to beat in a day, the one I made other people watch me play so they could compliment me and give me an ego boost. It hit me right in the “appeal to young girls by being as materialistic and fashion-oriented as possible, that’ll get them to keep coming back” and I feel like I should be ashamed to say it worked.
All it needed was Barbie’s name attached to it and a premise involving changing her clothes and accessories to make her as pretty as possible and I was ready to take on the world as a working woman.
You best believe I rode my pink convertible down the streets of Hollywood to get to my dance studio, all the while dong magazine cover shoots, and preparing for my fashion show.
Because I…am a super model. And the bills don’t pay themselves.
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rachesaunde replied to your post: Reasons I should look at my behavior and realize there’s something wrong and stop before it gets bad:wouldja like to hang out friday?
Yes I would like that very much. I get out of work at three, balls to the wall after that.
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- I’m holing myself up in my room again.
- I’m thinking myself into a coma over whether or not I should say something to my mom. I haven’t gotten any further than “It’s like you don’t care about yourself and I don’t want you to die this young.” I can already form her counter. Why does talking never amount to anything?
- Dwelling over old problems and thinking about things that shouldn’t give me guilt anymore but still do. I’m just tired of letting people blame me for their problems. Like, man the hell up and blame your own inadequacy and let your own damn problems keep you awake at night like all the other decent human beings. I have enough on my plate. Blah. Just blah.
- Playing The Sims is generally a good indicator that I’m sad. It’s something time consuming without any emotional investment, fooling me into thinking I’m accomplishing something when I’m really just living eight lives without getting up from your bed. There is almost a whole cat inside of my computer.
- I’m suspicious of any time my cat is nice to me and the other day when I came home from work, I didn’t much feel like going inside, so I sat on my porch. She came up to me and meowed at me, rubbing up against me and then tried to jump in my lap. It was like she finally got exorcised or something. Maybe she just thought I needed a friend. Or a bunch of hair all over my work uniform. Same thing.
- My mom stopped in a couple hours ago to give me candy. Which is what she always does when she thinks I’m sad. Food replaces most conversations. Rolos are alright. No emphysema is better.
- I keep looking at my old writing and wondering what went wrong. I’m not as clever as I used to be. And I don’t know if it’s because as I got older, I was just so…tired of writing about how I felt. Translating feelings to words is exhausting. It drains you. It makes you dwell. And, let’s be real, they’re the same problems I’ve been writing on this blog since I’ve gotten it. Nobody wants to see them. Everything I want to express has already been said before, and better. I sort of resolved to myself that I’m not that good at it. Which is okay, that might push me to improve. Or it might leave me in this hopeless rut. Sink or swim, right?
- I’m realizing that I let pop music serve as some kind of blockade for human emotion. Which is fine, like, One Direction has served as a really good plunger when the toilet gets too full, y’know? But there’s too much fan drama and it shouldn’t be upsetting me as much as it is, but like, that was supposed to be the place away from actual problems and now I’ve remembered that I hate everyone.
- Boss at work can tell I’m upset which, isn’t a big deal, but when he asks what’s wrong, I can’t really say anything. They all know my mom there and if I mention something about her smoking cigarettes to them, they’ll be all over her case too and that’s not anybody’s business. Is it even mine? Ugh, I don’t know anymore.
- I mean, I feel fine. I’m just…angry. Resentful. I can’t tell anyone how to live their life, least of all my own mother, but I don’t want her health to get worse. She’s been doing so well for the last nine months. Or she was. Who knows if she even quit? It’s possible she was smoking behind everybody’s back the whole time. I’m just tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired, the worn kind. Like an old Beanie Baby sitting on a shelf, watching all the other toys get played with. My tag keeps me perched up there and dust slowly settles all over me. Life’s going on without me and it will continue to the longer I stay in here. Who knows how long I stay there, thinking that time stops if I tell it to, time stops while I get the chance to figure out how to wrap my head around everything. Time marches on without me, regardless of how I feel, and then I’m even more overwhelmed because more was happening as I was trying to stop and evaluate.
These are the kinds of things that give me eye bags.
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I’m glad to see that watching The Weather Channel in The Sims is very similar to waiting for the weather segment in real life. When it finally comes, all you get is a stupid anecdote that is totally irrelevant to the atmospheric conditions.
At least, I hope it is.
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Quote reblogged from ~I am but a humble white girl~being your friend, I hope you find love and all that shit, but I also hope it’s with someone that tells you “you’re cute when you’re mad” because I can see you strangling him(OR HER. U KNOW I SUPPORT U) and when that happens, please vlog it, or at the very least live blog it.
~I am but a humble white girl~:
First, let me just say that it is extremely hilarious that I am quoting this and this comes from your blog name “I am but a humble white girl.” Really playin’ up that angel attitude, paired with the “I want to watch you kill your mate” confession. I love it.
Secondly, this is one of the nicest things ever said to me and I really hope that, when you find love and all that shit, it won’t have to be so hard and painful. ‘Cause you’ve had enough with that. You shouldn’t have to hurt so hard to be happy. And I hope he genuinely laughs at all of your jokes, even the ones you don’t have to think about, ‘cause your hilarious no matter what.
And that’s how we became the princes of a town called Bel-Air.
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Photo reblogged from Crimes Against Hugh's Manatees
The responsibility of being my friend also includes “objectively and non-judgmentally listens to whining.” Sorry ‘bout it.
(Source: crimesagainsthughsmanatees)
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Audio post reblogged from[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]This track has had 1,163 playsPotential Breakup Song by Aly and AJ
Never forgetAly & AJ | Potential Breakup Song
This hit me right in the Summer of 2007, Goddamn.
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reginamoran replied to your photo: This just needed to be on my blog and I refused to…wait is he the one that likes boys? I don’t know any of them except the Irish one (go figure)
OH GURL, don’t even get me started, don’t even — you got me started.
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- Me: I am lost. I am vain. I will never be the same without you. I miss you.
- Steph: Miss you mo, bitch. THREE MONTHS.
- Me: Awwww yeah. Fall semester 2k12, doin' it uppppp Old English style.
- Steph: Oh my God, forgot about that class. LULZ.
- Me: Yo, I'm probably gonna fail that class so hard, I don't even curr.
- Steph: We gonna rock it. I got an A in Modern Fiction and didn't read a full page of any of the novels we were assigned. I'M INVINCIBLE.
- Me: ...Yo, I got an A- and read everything except the second half of The Nature of Blood and the second half of White Teeth, fuck yo couch.
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This just needed to be on my blog and I refused to reblog it off the girl who had it. It’s fine, she probably didn’t make it and she’s also twelve. Which is not an exaggeration, it is a synonym for “I couldn’t stand her and she was immature and made me want to pluck every hair off my head and inner nose wow I hate going through that tag.” It’s like digging your arm into waist-deep mud and hoping to find the ring you lost.
I don’t know why we were swimming in waist-deep mud to begin with but it sounds like something that could happen.
But at least I came out with a diamond in the rough, is what I’m trying to say.
Or just a fruit holding fruit.
