christian monzon bio

The bad thing about going through an old journal is KNOWING whatapos;s going to happen in the future, and yet youapos;re powerless to stop it. I was flipping through old entries in an old LJ and I was reading through certain ones with a terrible knot in my stomach, just knowing that these big black...lulls were lurking around the corner. And I never told anyone about them, because itapos;s not something that I wanted to share. Itapos;s not as though I think my life is going to be fantastic from now on (because it wonapos;t be), but itapos;s just--Itapos;s not good. Iapos;ve been in a lousy mood all weekend, half on the verge or tears and half with a storm cloud over my head, because Iapos;ve been reliving the past and just putting myself in a terrible mindset. I need to stop doing this to myself.

I had to delete it because there were too many ghosts lurking in there.

On another note, some of you (those who know me from way, way, way back when) may remember I knew this creepy guy who refused to leave me alone. Guess what? HEapos;S BACK. Jesus H. Christ. Like, heapos;s emailed me the other day. In the past, heapos;s left LJ comments and sent numerous emails and I JUST IGNORED HIM because I previously told him, "I donapos;t want to be friends with you anymore Stop Leave me alone Youapos;re creepy" and he keeps going and going and going. If by chance he stumbles upon this: LEAVE ME ALONE. I donapos;t want to be friends with you anymore Stoooooop. If I want to be friends with you, Iapos;ll tell you. I probably wonapos;t friend you on LJ, because I have phobias about that (even if I know you), but Iapos;ll tell you if I want to be friends. I donapos;t want to be friends with him. I just want him out of my life for good. Is that too much to fucking ask?

Onto the lighter things. In searching my old entries, I learned that the first classic movie I wrote about was: Indiscreet (1958):

I watched "Indiscreet" (a movie from 1958 with Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant) tonight and I cried at the end. Itapos;s not a sad movie by any means, but the ending was just so sweet and before I knew it, the tears were welling up and I was honking like a maniac. Iapos;m such a sucker for "happy ending" movies like that. I might not seem the type, but I am. But shhhh, donapos;t tell anyone. It will ruin my reputation as a super cold bitch.

I still cry at the ending of sad movies. Limelight with Charlie Chaplin and Claire Bloom? Tears pouring down my face. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir? Floods of tears. Iapos;m such a girl. And I hate crying in front of others.

And lastly this completely puzzles me:

February 23, 2005: And over the weekend, I ordered myself a hot pink trenchcoat and some blouses from Old Navy.

I have no idea what hot pink trenchcoat Iapos;m talking about. I have no hot pink trenchcoat in my closet. I didnapos;t know you could even buy a hot pink trenchcoat I must have ordered it though, because it says so and now Iapos;m just confused, because I have no memory of ordering it or even seeing it on the website. Like, thatapos;s an article of clothing that you would remember, wouldnapos;t you?
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