Sometimes

Sometimes I like to go to McDonald's all by myself at 3:30 in the morning.
Sometimes when I go to McDonald's by myself at 3:30 in the morning, I order a double quarter-pounder with cheese meal and a Dr. Pepper.
And when I order my double quarter-pounder with cheese meal and a Dr. Pepper at 3:30 in the morning at the McDonald's, the person talking to me through the little speaker box pauses for a moment and repeats my order back to me as if I'm an idiot or as if he is questioning the state of my health and/or sanity.
It is on occasions such as these that I wear my fake engagement ring so that if the graveyard-shift McDonald's employee tries to judge me or say anything to me about my order, I can easily blame the fact that I am buying an incredible amount of food on the entirely fictitious explanation that I am pregnant and am experiencing insomnia, mood swings and intense cravings.
They put onions on my double quarter-pounder with cheese.
I should have gone back and complained about the fact that the guy at the drive-thru window could not hear my thoughts in his headset, and he should have automatically known that onions make me sick.
I should have gone back and thrown up all over his recently mopped floor.
Which I could have also blamed on my fake marriage/pregnancy.
I believe that performance would have won me an Academy Award, and would have landed me any job I ever wanted in the Big Apple.
I would be the best actress, ever.

Sometimes I'm up til 3:30 in the morning because I'm out driving around, trying to clear my head.
Sometimes I'm out driving around at 3:30 in the morning, trying to clear my head because of a silly, sophomoric, dramatic fight that I might have unintentionally caused.
I'm not sure if I caused it or if I took a a small situation and accidentally made it into something huge.
It was thanks to my crazed emotions which were running high from PMS (also entirely blamable on my fake pregnancy). It was thanks to me reading into small details that might have actually meant nothing. My vulnerability after my last heartbreak and my jungle-like instincts to protect myself may have played a key role in the situation, and it may have also had something to do with a third-party's misinterpretation of words and actions. It could have been a lot of things.
I'm not sure if I will ever straighten this one out.
Sometimes stupid fights caused by miscommunications stem from social networking websites and the addictive qualities of text messaging.
Situations such as these open my eyes once in a blue moon and make me realize that social networking websites and text messaging have managed to replace good, old-fashioned communication.
Talking.
Who does that anymore?
I can say with a clear conscience that my communication with every boyfriend I have had since my junior year of high school has been made up of a huge amount of cyber-communication. My best guess is this: In all of my relationships, an average of 83% of communication was done via text messaging and 17% of all other communication consisted of phone calls and face-to-face interaction.
When stupid, unnecessary things such as fights and dramatic scenes arise, I find it essential to my mental health to remove the root of the problems.
Which is why I'm starting a new challenge for myself.
I'm going "unplugged."
No more Facebook.
No more text messaging.
I'm on an indefinite hiatus.
I've tried this before, but only half-heartedly and with no shining goal for me to set my sights on. In the past, I have failed. This time, I have good reason to do away with these inessential luxuries of the 21st Century.
I changed my homepage from Facebook to Google. I turned off my Facebook mobile alerts. I had a close friend of mine change my password. I programmed my cell phone to not make a sound and to not flash its little LED light at me when I receive a text message. I turned off my Twitter mobile updates. I blocked all SMS and MMS messages from reaching the two standard texting applications that came with my phone, and I deleted the application I was using to send and receive SMS text messages.
This is serious.

My list of approved entertainment and social media:

Books
Movies
Blogging
Tumblr
Twitter (but only the website)
Email
Telephone calls
Formspring

Otherwise, I'm cutting myself off.
I have a feeling this will be a very enlightening experience. All of the time I once wasted sitting on my butt, stalking people on Facebook will now be spent doing productive things such as:

Educating myself
- Religion
- Politics
- Imaginative novels
Cleaning
Working
Building real relationships
Becoming a cultured individual
Embracing my inner child
Enjoying nature
Studying people and how their minds work
Enjoying college
Learning the proper ways to care for myself
Learning to care about others more than I currently do
Figuring out who I am
Figuring out what exactly I want to make of myself

And all of these enlightening activities point to my one shining goal: to reach a sense of "oneness" with myself.

I understand that that is a goal that people work at constantly- for the span of their entire lives- trying to achieve. I just want to feel good. I want to feel like a real person, not like a social networking robot.

Sometimes I take blame for things that I'm not entirely sure I'm responsible for because I hate being faced with confrontation. I assume responsibility just so I can end pain and drama. I'm good at that; assuming responsibility and taking the blame.
All I want to do right now is sit down with the other two parties involved, and hear their sides as to what is going on. I want us to reach a common understanding- black and white, straightforward answers with no gray area in between them.

...Sometimes I want to quit dating entirely.
Sometimes I want to become a lesbian.
Sometimes I want to become a nun.
And other times I think I want to serve a mission.
Other times I think I want to serve a mission, that is, if my heathen past wouldn't render me unworthy in the eyes of God, my bishop and my stake president.

Oftentimes I imagine myself as a little cartoon girl, sitting in the middle of a dirt road with a thousand forks branching away in a million different directions from the spot in which she sits.
Here I sit, 5:00 in the morning, with a half-eaten double quarter-pounder with cheese and a half empty cup of watery Dr. Pepper.
Sometimes I buy a large amount of food, subconsciously thinking that by conquering the mountain of disgusting (and at the same time delicious) food before me and shoving it down my throat while I still have the metabolism to allow me to do so and not think twice about it, I can also conquer the mountain of chaos and problems that are staring me in the face.