Haven't really had much to say lately, I guess. My mood has been considerately better lately, though that might have something to do with...
...nope. Still can't do it.
Another thing about blogs though is that posting one is like purging my brain, reaching in for all the black gooey nasty stuff and pulling it out through my finger tips. It's kind of a downer.
And yeah, there are a few things I don't really want to talk about, that would probably be better left un-noted, but at the same time, I'd probably feel much better if I did talk about them.
Meh. At least for now, I'm more than just content.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Fault
It's sort of dividing between people I don't know and people I wish I didn't know.
And I hate when people use threats, because a threat to me isn't motivation. It's a contest. If you threaten me with something, it's like a switch in my mind goes off and tells me to stand my ground just to see if they have the balls to go through with it.
I guess it's only with him, though, because in any other situation, I'm not a confrontational person. Fight or flight and all that; I've always been one to fly.
But that's probably because I know he's filled with shit and doesn't have the balls to do anything.
Maybe I should just hole myself up in my room and lock the door and never open it and then maybe he'll just leave me the fuck alone and stop yelling and maybe I won't have to have panic attacks because a man is yelling at me, and I'll stop being upset when I get left behind because maybe then I won't want to go in the first place.
I guess it's my fault for caring, you know.
And I hate when people use threats, because a threat to me isn't motivation. It's a contest. If you threaten me with something, it's like a switch in my mind goes off and tells me to stand my ground just to see if they have the balls to go through with it.
I guess it's only with him, though, because in any other situation, I'm not a confrontational person. Fight or flight and all that; I've always been one to fly.
But that's probably because I know he's filled with shit and doesn't have the balls to do anything.
Maybe I should just hole myself up in my room and lock the door and never open it and then maybe he'll just leave me the fuck alone and stop yelling and maybe I won't have to have panic attacks because a man is yelling at me, and I'll stop being upset when I get left behind because maybe then I won't want to go in the first place.
I guess it's my fault for caring, you know.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
...
I hate admitting it, but I'm scared. Some things have come to light, and...it just can't lead to anything good.
You ever get the feeling someone is watching you?
Heh. Us, too.
You ever get the feeling someone is watching you?
Heh. Us, too.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Maybe I'm just bitch today.
There are few times that I will ever rage at someone in real life unless it's at my mother's boyfriend.
For one, he still won't stop whistling to get her attention.
I still grate my teeth at that just thinking about it.
It sort of kills me, too.
It's sort of hard to eat dinner when you're caught between wanting to hurl a knife at the person sitting across from you (Which is why I'm not allowed to sit across from him anymore, particularly in public.) and wanting to just be a total snot when he says something stupid.
"I couldn't cook before I lived here,"
You still can't cook. You can mash the potatoes when we ask you. But you still ask my mother to make your Ramen every fucking time, because apparently she makes it better...?
"Now I can make a salad, and before I couldn't do that!"
This reaffirms the fact that you are retarded. A salad is something a six year old can make with her eyes closed. Or at least, I could. It's pretty brainless. Lettuce. Rip it up, throw it in a bowl, add tomatoes and other veggies, add dressing. mix. Serve. It's pretty hard to fuck up, unless you add too much dressing.
"I'm great on a grill."
Fucking bullshit. I'm better on a grill than you are, and I've only used a grill a few times. All of your steaks taste the same as any other piece of red meat, because you don't bother seasoning it. In the beginning, if we heard you were grilling, we sulked at the waste of meat and prepared ourselves to chew on something with the texture of a shoe sole.
Admittedly, you have gotten better, but the fact remains that either you do this to bug me, or you're fucking retarded. It doesn't take rocket science to make a rare steak. It's easier than well done. Just drop the steak on the grill. Three minutes. Flip. Three minutes. Serve.
Also, could you save my steak for fucking last instead of doing it first every time? I'm pretty certain you do this on purpose, because I've suggested it before. To most people it's common sense that the steak that takes the least amount of time to prepare is made last.
And every time my steak is fucking cold by the time dinner is served. And every time you make sure to tell me, "I cooked it rare this time!"
Rare is RED. Not barely pink. To you, Mr. "I piss myself if my steak has any blood in it", I'm sure that might be rare, but to me rare means it's RED.
And honestly, I wish I could just stop bitching and cook it myself, but every time I cook you seem to take it as a sign of me undermining your authority, or trying to suck up to my mother.
I like to cook, fuckface.
I don't need to suck up to my mother. She's already my friend. You, on the other hand, seem to constantly need to prove that you aren't as useless as you turn out to be. In contrast to how you appear, I was shocked to find how little amount of time it took for you to become like any other useless slob.
For one, he still won't stop whistling to get her attention.
I still grate my teeth at that just thinking about it.
It sort of kills me, too.
It's sort of hard to eat dinner when you're caught between wanting to hurl a knife at the person sitting across from you (Which is why I'm not allowed to sit across from him anymore, particularly in public.) and wanting to just be a total snot when he says something stupid.
"I couldn't cook before I lived here,"
You still can't cook. You can mash the potatoes when we ask you. But you still ask my mother to make your Ramen every fucking time, because apparently she makes it better...?
"Now I can make a salad, and before I couldn't do that!"
This reaffirms the fact that you are retarded. A salad is something a six year old can make with her eyes closed. Or at least, I could. It's pretty brainless. Lettuce. Rip it up, throw it in a bowl, add tomatoes and other veggies, add dressing. mix. Serve. It's pretty hard to fuck up, unless you add too much dressing.
"I'm great on a grill."
Fucking bullshit. I'm better on a grill than you are, and I've only used a grill a few times. All of your steaks taste the same as any other piece of red meat, because you don't bother seasoning it. In the beginning, if we heard you were grilling, we sulked at the waste of meat and prepared ourselves to chew on something with the texture of a shoe sole.
Admittedly, you have gotten better, but the fact remains that either you do this to bug me, or you're fucking retarded. It doesn't take rocket science to make a rare steak. It's easier than well done. Just drop the steak on the grill. Three minutes. Flip. Three minutes. Serve.
Also, could you save my steak for fucking last instead of doing it first every time? I'm pretty certain you do this on purpose, because I've suggested it before. To most people it's common sense that the steak that takes the least amount of time to prepare is made last.
And every time my steak is fucking cold by the time dinner is served. And every time you make sure to tell me, "I cooked it rare this time!"
Rare is RED. Not barely pink. To you, Mr. "I piss myself if my steak has any blood in it", I'm sure that might be rare, but to me rare means it's RED.
And honestly, I wish I could just stop bitching and cook it myself, but every time I cook you seem to take it as a sign of me undermining your authority, or trying to suck up to my mother.
I like to cook, fuckface.
I don't need to suck up to my mother. She's already my friend. You, on the other hand, seem to constantly need to prove that you aren't as useless as you turn out to be. In contrast to how you appear, I was shocked to find how little amount of time it took for you to become like any other useless slob.
The things nightmares are made of.
My little brother is visiting. He's not a little terror like he was before, but right now, there are few things more horrifying than sharing a bathroom with him.
I don't give a fuck if you leave the seat up. That's fine. Really. I can handle that.
BUT PLEASE MAKE THE EFFORT TO LIFT THE SEAT IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE.
The seat being up is not half as bad as the seat being down, covered in piss. Do not enter my house, piss all over the toilet seat, and then leave it like that.
HOW HARD IS IT TO FLUSH THE FUCKING TOILET?
Just reach, and pull. And in the same motion, would it kill you to pull the lid down? Just a suggestion.
PLEASE STOP PISSING IN MY SHOWER.
.....just....don't. Please. Why is there a yellow tinge on the bottom of my bath tub?
WHAT IS THAT BROWN STUFF ON THE FLOOR?!
...
WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!?!
I am this close to just locking the bathroom door and telling you to just use the one downstairs. I am not your fucking maid. You are a guest in my house, and you are using my bathroom. While I might not be the cleanest of people, you are a fucking slob.
I'm not asking you to clean the bathroom, I'm just asking you to not make it worse. If you could just be like everyone else and lift the toilet seat, put it back down and flush, maybe then we could be proud of you enough to take you out in public.
I don't care if you don't have enough self-respect to at least keep your area clean, but it's not just about you. IT'S MY FUCKING BATHROOM.
I reserve the right to kick you out.
Not that that'll stop you. I know you aren't an idiot and you can pick a house lock like any other fucktard.
STILL.
SELF-RESPECT. GET SOME.
I don't give a fuck if you leave the seat up. That's fine. Really. I can handle that.
BUT PLEASE MAKE THE EFFORT TO LIFT THE SEAT IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE.
The seat being up is not half as bad as the seat being down, covered in piss. Do not enter my house, piss all over the toilet seat, and then leave it like that.
HOW HARD IS IT TO FLUSH THE FUCKING TOILET?
Just reach, and pull. And in the same motion, would it kill you to pull the lid down? Just a suggestion.
PLEASE STOP PISSING IN MY SHOWER.
.....just....don't. Please. Why is there a yellow tinge on the bottom of my bath tub?
WHAT IS THAT BROWN STUFF ON THE FLOOR?!
...
WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!?!
I am this close to just locking the bathroom door and telling you to just use the one downstairs. I am not your fucking maid. You are a guest in my house, and you are using my bathroom. While I might not be the cleanest of people, you are a fucking slob.
I'm not asking you to clean the bathroom, I'm just asking you to not make it worse. If you could just be like everyone else and lift the toilet seat, put it back down and flush, maybe then we could be proud of you enough to take you out in public.
I don't care if you don't have enough self-respect to at least keep your area clean, but it's not just about you. IT'S MY FUCKING BATHROOM.
I reserve the right to kick you out.
Not that that'll stop you. I know you aren't an idiot and you can pick a house lock like any other fucktard.
STILL.
SELF-RESPECT. GET SOME.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Shoes.
I've never really understood the draw of shoes to most girls, really. Because I sort of hate shoes.
Well, not all shoes. Shoe shopping is a pain, though. I like the kinky shit so for me the problem is that the only shoes that catch my eye look something like you'd find on a domme holding a whip (:3) but those also look very uncomfortable and not at all my sort of thing, so I tend to pass on those.
And the problem for me is that I'm generally chronically coordinationally challenged and become dizzy periodically throughout the day and it becomes a bigger problem when the sensitivity in my feet are eliminated. So I buy a pair of shoes, wear them for a year until the soles are worn down enough that you can bend them in half, and then keep wearing them until they fall apart on my feet.
Although, it wouldn't be a problem if I had these shoes.
They're basically designed to emulate barefoot walking, but with more protection from heat and cold (Walk in snow!). You can feel everything underfoot, and it's great for your posture and your back, if yours is fucked up like mine.
They also look like the dopest shit on both sides of the Mississippi, in my humble opinion. ^_^
And they're more specifically designed for sports and trekking, although you can use it for regular travel, too. Seriously, though. Aren't they awesome?
And if I want a pair for Christmas, I should start saving now because money is tight these days and I don't happen to have $80 just laying around. :(
Well, not all shoes. Shoe shopping is a pain, though. I like the kinky shit so for me the problem is that the only shoes that catch my eye look something like you'd find on a domme holding a whip (:3) but those also look very uncomfortable and not at all my sort of thing, so I tend to pass on those.
And the problem for me is that I'm generally chronically coordinationally challenged and become dizzy periodically throughout the day and it becomes a bigger problem when the sensitivity in my feet are eliminated. So I buy a pair of shoes, wear them for a year until the soles are worn down enough that you can bend them in half, and then keep wearing them until they fall apart on my feet.
Although, it wouldn't be a problem if I had these shoes.
They're basically designed to emulate barefoot walking, but with more protection from heat and cold (Walk in snow!). You can feel everything underfoot, and it's great for your posture and your back, if yours is fucked up like mine.
They also look like the dopest shit on both sides of the Mississippi, in my humble opinion. ^_^
And they're more specifically designed for sports and trekking, although you can use it for regular travel, too. Seriously, though. Aren't they awesome?
And if I want a pair for Christmas, I should start saving now because money is tight these days and I don't happen to have $80 just laying around. :(
Friday, May 29, 2009
Am I dying?
So I took a nap, and when I woke up, I just kind of sat there, wondering what that strange noise was, before I realized I could feel it coming from my chest. Just from breathing.
Loud and clear, coming from my chest....kind of felt like when you blow bubbles with ketchup until it's like like foam soap. Sounded like...Pop Rocks on your tongue. Only it's coming from your lungs. And it's really fucking scary.
I kind of freaked out. I knew the doc said I was really sick, but fuck. It sounds like my left lung is totally filled with crap. Maybe I should have asked to see the X-ray?
Now when I cough hard, I can hear stuff moving, after I finish coughing. Kind of feels like your stomach is growling, too, only it's not in your stomach, it's in your lungs. And lasts for a half-second.
Oh, and I got food poisoning last night. I thought I was going to pass out, I was in so much pain and I felt so weak. D:
I'm so sick of being sick. :(
Loud and clear, coming from my chest....kind of felt like when you blow bubbles with ketchup until it's like like foam soap. Sounded like...Pop Rocks on your tongue. Only it's coming from your lungs. And it's really fucking scary.
I kind of freaked out. I knew the doc said I was really sick, but fuck. It sounds like my left lung is totally filled with crap. Maybe I should have asked to see the X-ray?
Now when I cough hard, I can hear stuff moving, after I finish coughing. Kind of feels like your stomach is growling, too, only it's not in your stomach, it's in your lungs. And lasts for a half-second.
Oh, and I got food poisoning last night. I thought I was going to pass out, I was in so much pain and I felt so weak. D:
I'm so sick of being sick. :(
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Fantastic.
Here's an added little goody. I started coughing and I could feel something in my left lung, so I went to the doctor suspecting pneumonia. And I was right. Pneumonia. And apparently I'm really sick.
Which is fucking retarded because I'm going to fail this one class if I can't take the fucking final, but my doctor said that I'm straight up not allowed to go in until I'm better. I could blow off my programming final because I don't have any of the files I need, or the compiler I need, and I'd still pass even without the final.
But not the other final.
Which is fucking retarded because I'm going to fail this one class if I can't take the fucking final, but my doctor said that I'm straight up not allowed to go in until I'm better. I could blow off my programming final because I don't have any of the files I need, or the compiler I need, and I'd still pass even without the final.
But not the other final.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Eh.
I feel like crap. And I'm frustrated because my days haven't exactly been horrible or anything, so I don't really know why I'm so depressed right now.
And I know my mother and my sister both think its about my relationship sort of ending without either of us having said anything about it. I just sort of assume it's over, now. And I feel like shit because I should be bummed about it, but I'm not. I feel like a bitch.
But I still feel like crap, though. I guess I'm like a child in this sense that I'm always in a state of wanting, and when I finish wanting something I want something more, maybe?
I feel terrible, regardless. And mildly confused.
And I've been crying a lot lately. I never used to cry, and I feel stupid for crying now, but...just....fuck. Everything is going down the tubes, and I don't even know what to do any more. It's like the life I've finally gotten used to is collapsing around me like a house of cards and I'm helpless to stop it because I don't have the power to do fucking anything! It's
I
ARGH!
And I know my mother and my sister both think its about my relationship sort of ending without either of us having said anything about it. I just sort of assume it's over, now. And I feel like shit because I should be bummed about it, but I'm not. I feel like a bitch.
But I still feel like crap, though. I guess I'm like a child in this sense that I'm always in a state of wanting, and when I finish wanting something I want something more, maybe?
I feel terrible, regardless. And mildly confused.
And I've been crying a lot lately. I never used to cry, and I feel stupid for crying now, but...just....fuck. Everything is going down the tubes, and I don't even know what to do any more. It's like the life I've finally gotten used to is collapsing around me like a house of cards and I'm helpless to stop it because I don't have the power to do fucking anything! It's
I
ARGH!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Bugs me.
Those people who say things along the lines of, "Oh yeah, if she does this, it means this."
It just....those are behavioral tenancies that aren't even patterned enough to be dependable! Everyone is different! If someone does something, it might not mean anything. Actions mean different things to different people! Sure, you could line up similarities, but those are only similarities.
Sure, you can find trends, but they're only trends. There are exceptions to every rule.
Personally, I think every rule is meant to be broken.
Including that one.
Like in the sciences. Astrophysical mathematics have rules that straight up can't be broken, or they don't work.
While everything else is just on a general case by case basis. Sure you could broaden the spectrum a little bit, but the more you broaden the scale, the more exceptions.
It just....those are behavioral tenancies that aren't even patterned enough to be dependable! Everyone is different! If someone does something, it might not mean anything. Actions mean different things to different people! Sure, you could line up similarities, but those are only similarities.
Sure, you can find trends, but they're only trends. There are exceptions to every rule.
Personally, I think every rule is meant to be broken.
Including that one.
Like in the sciences. Astrophysical mathematics have rules that straight up can't be broken, or they don't work.
While everything else is just on a general case by case basis. Sure you could broaden the spectrum a little bit, but the more you broaden the scale, the more exceptions.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I feel terrible.
It's sort of mean, but I love listening to my mother talk to her friends on the phone in Polish. And I feel a little bad because I find it hilarious.
Especially since she only learned up until around nine....so she never really learned cussing, and there are some words that just aren't in her vocabulary.
And my Polish is insanely limited...so every now and then I can understand a lone word in a slurring sea of gibberish...
So when she's on the phone it's like,
Polishkyxbyskwordyskcsbyd,Valedia,polishpolishpolish,soup,polishpolishpolish,turkey,polishpolishpolish,antidisestablishmentarianism,polishpolishCraigsListpolishpolishLinuxpolishWindows7polishpolishSteveJobspolishpolish...
But when she's on the phone and she's pissed off, it's like,
PolishkyxbyskwordyskcsbydFUCKEDUP!polishpolishpolishpolishSHITFORBRAINS!polishpolishSTUPID-ITY!polishpolishpolishValedia!polishpolish!
And then I snap my head around and tuck my tail and run away because I know I'm about to get a verbal beating when she gets off the phone, unless the conversation ends like,
PolishkyxbyskwordyskcsbydHahahah!, polishpolishpolish,Broche,polishpolish,Dziękuję,polish,Tak,polistpolishpolish,Kocham cię,widzenia....
Especially since she only learned up until around nine....so she never really learned cussing, and there are some words that just aren't in her vocabulary.
And my Polish is insanely limited...so every now and then I can understand a lone word in a slurring sea of gibberish...
So when she's on the phone it's like,
Polishkyxbyskwordyskcsbyd,Valedia,polishpolishpolish,soup,polishpolishpolish,turkey,polishpolishpolish,antidisestablishmentarianism,polishpolishCraigsListpolishpolishLinuxpolishWindows7polishpolishSteveJobspolishpolish...
But when she's on the phone and she's pissed off, it's like,
PolishkyxbyskwordyskcsbydFUCKEDUP!polishpolishpolishpolishSHITFORBRAINS!polishpolishSTUPID-ITY!polishpolishpolishValedia!polishpolish!
And then I snap my head around and tuck my tail and run away because I know I'm about to get a verbal beating when she gets off the phone, unless the conversation ends like,
PolishkyxbyskwordyskcsbydHahahah!, polishpolishpolish,Broche,polishpolish,Dziękuję,polish,Tak,polistpolishpolish,Kocham cię,widzenia....
Friday, May 8, 2009
*cough*
The whole reason I was trying to get better for is now a moot point because I'm trying to get better for it. It's kind of fucked up, actually. So now there's really no reason to rush the getting better process.
Yeah, I'm mildly pissed, but eh. that's life.
And anyway, it turns out I'm the most sick today that I've been for the last week. I'm in pain, miserable, and mildly pissed.
I also feel absolutely disgusting because my hair is greasy and I think I'm running a fever so I don't want to risk passing out in the shower, but fuck I would love a shower right now.
Also, I feel like my language skills are in the toilet right now, and I'm trying to figure out why. I've always prided myself on my language skills, but for some reason I feel like that part of my brain is....I don't know....malfunctioning or something.
So now I'm in pain, miserable, mildly pissed, and just a little bit freaked out.
Yeah, I'm mildly pissed, but eh. that's life.
And anyway, it turns out I'm the most sick today that I've been for the last week. I'm in pain, miserable, and mildly pissed.
I also feel absolutely disgusting because my hair is greasy and I think I'm running a fever so I don't want to risk passing out in the shower, but fuck I would love a shower right now.
Also, I feel like my language skills are in the toilet right now, and I'm trying to figure out why. I've always prided myself on my language skills, but for some reason I feel like that part of my brain is....I don't know....malfunctioning or something.
So now I'm in pain, miserable, mildly pissed, and just a little bit freaked out.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
*blink*
Wasn't aware that anyone was actually reading my blog...I didn't expect anyone to find it, let alone comment on it.
But I guess it's just a subject that everyone involved really just wants their opinion out there for. Thanks for commenting on it, I appreciate your thoughts. :D
So, to clarify, I know that speech ability varies from person to person. As my ASL teacher put it, it's like playing piano.
After a few weeks of piano lessons, her friend could play fluidly, but she was still picking notes out with her pointer fingers. Some people have a talent for it, and some people are just not good at it.
I actually have a Deaf friend that I didn't know was deaf until she told me. Her speech is incredible. I thought she might have been a little bit Hard of Hearing, but nope. She's stone Deaf. Can't hear a thing. She also doesn't have an implant.
Her parents have an incredible capacity for languages, though. I guess she inherited that trait. And she's had years of speech therapy.
Oh, hey, funny story. I finally got around to asking my ASL teacher if she saw the House episode, and she responded that she had and hated the ending.
After piquing everyone's interest, I finally told them, "House implanted someone with a Cochlear Implant...without their permission!"
And all at once everyone took in this shocked gasp of sheer horror. Someone even said, "Oh no, House! NO!"
It was hilarious. I think my teacher was especially amused by everyone's reaction because it meant that she'd taught us about Deaf Culture well.
And sometimes I'm almost a little afraid to express my opinion on CI's because I'm afraid of getting chewed out by both sides of the argument.
I actually have a neutral outlook of it. I think it's amazing that we have the technology to do that, since the brain fascinates me, and I didn't realize we had that technology to begin with, until I took the class.
I think if I ever went deaf, yeah, I'd go for the implant, but that's because I'm already /in/ the hearing world.
If my child was born deaf, then I would have to say that, No I wouldn't give them the implant. Not because I'm anti-CI or anything. I just think...well, you know the phrase, "If it's not broken, don't fix it?"
Right, so no classes for me today, because I started hacking up a color of phlegm I've yet to see....It's not supposed to be brown, right? And with everyone around here freaking out about the five confirmed cases around here, I don't want everyone to think I've got Swine Flu when it's just a throat infection.
Well, since I freaked out the last time because the symptoms matched Mono, I actually did see the doctor it...so technically I guess it's an upper respiratory tract infection. I still don't know why I get them every Winter and Summer, but it means for the next two days I'll be downing Vitamin C like I'm trying to overdose. I need to get better...by tomorrow, if possible, but absolutely need to be back in classes by Friday.
Which I know sounds impossible, but I can attest to the positive effects of Vitamin C. Enough of it can honestly shorten the span of the infection from seven to ten days, to even two days.
I don't know why I've been smelling peaches in my room, but now I really want a peach. I wonder if we have any left?
But I guess it's just a subject that everyone involved really just wants their opinion out there for. Thanks for commenting on it, I appreciate your thoughts. :D
So, to clarify, I know that speech ability varies from person to person. As my ASL teacher put it, it's like playing piano.
After a few weeks of piano lessons, her friend could play fluidly, but she was still picking notes out with her pointer fingers. Some people have a talent for it, and some people are just not good at it.
I actually have a Deaf friend that I didn't know was deaf until she told me. Her speech is incredible. I thought she might have been a little bit Hard of Hearing, but nope. She's stone Deaf. Can't hear a thing. She also doesn't have an implant.
Her parents have an incredible capacity for languages, though. I guess she inherited that trait. And she's had years of speech therapy.
Oh, hey, funny story. I finally got around to asking my ASL teacher if she saw the House episode, and she responded that she had and hated the ending.
After piquing everyone's interest, I finally told them, "House implanted someone with a Cochlear Implant...without their permission!"
And all at once everyone took in this shocked gasp of sheer horror. Someone even said, "Oh no, House! NO!"
It was hilarious. I think my teacher was especially amused by everyone's reaction because it meant that she'd taught us about Deaf Culture well.
And sometimes I'm almost a little afraid to express my opinion on CI's because I'm afraid of getting chewed out by both sides of the argument.
I actually have a neutral outlook of it. I think it's amazing that we have the technology to do that, since the brain fascinates me, and I didn't realize we had that technology to begin with, until I took the class.
I think if I ever went deaf, yeah, I'd go for the implant, but that's because I'm already /in/ the hearing world.
If my child was born deaf, then I would have to say that, No I wouldn't give them the implant. Not because I'm anti-CI or anything. I just think...well, you know the phrase, "If it's not broken, don't fix it?"
Right, so no classes for me today, because I started hacking up a color of phlegm I've yet to see....It's not supposed to be brown, right? And with everyone around here freaking out about the five confirmed cases around here, I don't want everyone to think I've got Swine Flu when it's just a throat infection.
Well, since I freaked out the last time because the symptoms matched Mono, I actually did see the doctor it...so technically I guess it's an upper respiratory tract infection. I still don't know why I get them every Winter and Summer, but it means for the next two days I'll be downing Vitamin C like I'm trying to overdose. I need to get better...by tomorrow, if possible, but absolutely need to be back in classes by Friday.
Which I know sounds impossible, but I can attest to the positive effects of Vitamin C. Enough of it can honestly shorten the span of the infection from seven to ten days, to even two days.
I don't know why I've been smelling peaches in my room, but now I really want a peach. I wonder if we have any left?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
RAAAAAAAAAGEEEEEE
Just saw the new House episode.
And they did accurately describe the Cochlear Implant controversy, but not the Deaf Culture well enough. The patient wasn't "willingly opting to be handicapped," since there's nothing wrong with him to begin with.
You don't just take a Deaf person and thrust them into the hearing world, especially when they don't want to enter the hearing world.
You also don't force him to get it repaired, when he rips it out of his scull. (Cochlear Implant = IMPLANT INTO THE BRAIN)
Anyway, I thought the ending was kind of....fucking stupid. "I'm your mother, and I decide what's best for you."
The Cochlear Implant is really the most effective when you get it while the patient is a baby. Before they begin learning how to speak, so they can learn more naturally. When you get it later, even at nine or ten years, you've already missed that learning curve. Your speech will always be stunted.
So when you're sixteen or seventeen, sure, the Implant will let you hear, but you'll still need ASL and a holy fuck load of speech therapy, and your speech will most likely not be what you want it to be, even with years of therapy.
So for the mother to just say, in the end, "I'm your mother, and I say you're getting the Implant," (Or did I just hear her wrong?) is fucking ridiculous.
Also, I don't think they did a very good job actually showing the ASL. They had the hands half out of the frame most of the time. And I know the purpose wasn't to film the ASL, but I think they should have made a greater effort to catch that culture.
And they sort of over-dramatized what they were saying. He signed, "say" with his eyebrows furrowed (to signify a question). They translated, "What was that you said?"
And then he signed "again", and they translated, "Please, say my name again."
But I guess they sort of needed to dramatize it, though. It is a dramatic show.
And I'm sort of sad that I managed to miss the first twenty minutes. I'll need to catch it later.
And they did accurately describe the Cochlear Implant controversy, but not the Deaf Culture well enough. The patient wasn't "willingly opting to be handicapped," since there's nothing wrong with him to begin with.
You don't just take a Deaf person and thrust them into the hearing world, especially when they don't want to enter the hearing world.
You also don't force him to get it repaired, when he rips it out of his scull. (Cochlear Implant = IMPLANT INTO THE BRAIN)
Anyway, I thought the ending was kind of....fucking stupid. "I'm your mother, and I decide what's best for you."
The Cochlear Implant is really the most effective when you get it while the patient is a baby. Before they begin learning how to speak, so they can learn more naturally. When you get it later, even at nine or ten years, you've already missed that learning curve. Your speech will always be stunted.
So when you're sixteen or seventeen, sure, the Implant will let you hear, but you'll still need ASL and a holy fuck load of speech therapy, and your speech will most likely not be what you want it to be, even with years of therapy.
So for the mother to just say, in the end, "I'm your mother, and I say you're getting the Implant," (Or did I just hear her wrong?) is fucking ridiculous.
Also, I don't think they did a very good job actually showing the ASL. They had the hands half out of the frame most of the time. And I know the purpose wasn't to film the ASL, but I think they should have made a greater effort to catch that culture.
And they sort of over-dramatized what they were saying. He signed, "say" with his eyebrows furrowed (to signify a question). They translated, "What was that you said?"
And then he signed "again", and they translated, "Please, say my name again."
But I guess they sort of needed to dramatize it, though. It is a dramatic show.
And I'm sort of sad that I managed to miss the first twenty minutes. I'll need to catch it later.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Yeah, I'm a little hurt.
And it's not really a big deal or anything, it just hurts a little bit. I'm not letting myself get too upset about it.
It's like this fucking nasty bruise I have on my leg. It looks terrible, but it doesn't hurt unless I touch it.
Maybe if I just let it heal, it'll go away?
Although, I'm sort of freaked about this bruise. It actually...doesn't look like any bruise I've ever had. It's red and looks like blood beneath the skin, and it's green like a regular bruise at the edges.
Anyway, that's not the point. I guess what I mean is that...just the vibe is all cold and just...."Please go away."
I'm the fucking shiny new toy, I guess. I'm cute and you really want it when you see it at first.
And you fawn over it for a little while, before it loses its magic and just gets old. It's not cute anymore. Now it's just sort of obnoxious.
I'm sorry. I guess maybe if I wasn't really fucked up in the head I could be more....unobnoxious. I guess it would help if I could actually open up like I think you wanted....but I just....can't. You don't know how hard it is for me to open up like that, now. And if you wanted me to open up, maybe you should have tried harder? You can't expect me to open like a book because picked me up off the shelf and blew the dust off of my cover. Or maybe you didn't want me to open up and I'm fucking delusional? That might be it.
And yeah, Guitars are inanimate objects. I can love my guitar. Well, not like that or anything. But I am emotionally attached to my guitar.
And I was really emotionally attached to you, too, actually. You ass hole. It's not fair that you could make my heart skip a beat and then decide you don't want it to again.
Not that I mind. It's just sort of weird for me to get attached to anyone like that.
And I can understand if you just want to back out. Not that you've said anything yet. I'm still waiting. If you want to break it off, do it. I'd do it for you, but....what if....?
[And, unrelated to all previously mentioned--it's never going to happen.]
So...yeah. It does sting a little because I was really emotionally attached to you. But you're making it kind of easy to let go. I feel like I've been pushed away. And it's alright. Sure, it's still stinging and I'm a little hurt, but I'll get better.
And yeah, flirting is fun as hell, but there's nothing behind that. I guess we're just lacking chemistry.
Also, how old do you need to be to legally buy cigarettes again? I could really use some smoke in my lungs right about now. I've never smoked before, but I guess I've just grown up around smokers. My mother. My grandmother. My sisters.
I can smell someone's smoke drifting this way and it's really...comfortable right now.
And maybe I can chain smoke myself into an early death? Save myself the senile dementia? Probably a lot more fun than killing yourself.
Or enlisting in the army and being really, really careless.
It's like this fucking nasty bruise I have on my leg. It looks terrible, but it doesn't hurt unless I touch it.
Maybe if I just let it heal, it'll go away?
Although, I'm sort of freaked about this bruise. It actually...doesn't look like any bruise I've ever had. It's red and looks like blood beneath the skin, and it's green like a regular bruise at the edges.
Anyway, that's not the point. I guess what I mean is that...just the vibe is all cold and just...."Please go away."
I'm the fucking shiny new toy, I guess. I'm cute and you really want it when you see it at first.
And you fawn over it for a little while, before it loses its magic and just gets old. It's not cute anymore. Now it's just sort of obnoxious.
I'm sorry. I guess maybe if I wasn't really fucked up in the head I could be more....unobnoxious. I guess it would help if I could actually open up like I think you wanted....but I just....can't. You don't know how hard it is for me to open up like that, now. And if you wanted me to open up, maybe you should have tried harder? You can't expect me to open like a book because picked me up off the shelf and blew the dust off of my cover. Or maybe you didn't want me to open up and I'm fucking delusional? That might be it.
And yeah, Guitars are inanimate objects. I can love my guitar. Well, not like that or anything. But I am emotionally attached to my guitar.
And I was really emotionally attached to you, too, actually. You ass hole. It's not fair that you could make my heart skip a beat and then decide you don't want it to again.
Not that I mind. It's just sort of weird for me to get attached to anyone like that.
And I can understand if you just want to back out. Not that you've said anything yet. I'm still waiting. If you want to break it off, do it. I'd do it for you, but....what if....?
[And, unrelated to all previously mentioned--it's never going to happen.]
So...yeah. It does sting a little because I was really emotionally attached to you. But you're making it kind of easy to let go. I feel like I've been pushed away. And it's alright. Sure, it's still stinging and I'm a little hurt, but I'll get better.
And yeah, flirting is fun as hell, but there's nothing behind that. I guess we're just lacking chemistry.
Also, how old do you need to be to legally buy cigarettes again? I could really use some smoke in my lungs right about now. I've never smoked before, but I guess I've just grown up around smokers. My mother. My grandmother. My sisters.
I can smell someone's smoke drifting this way and it's really...comfortable right now.
And maybe I can chain smoke myself into an early death? Save myself the senile dementia? Probably a lot more fun than killing yourself.
Or enlisting in the army and being really, really careless.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Assphenie Mayonaise (Stephenie Meyer)
'Cause, you know, I like to laugh at fucking everything because when things get serious, they stop being fun.
Anyway, those Bible-thumpers to me are like....really hardcore Twilight Fangirls. The ones that practice "Cullenism" and literally light the white candle every Monday and do the prayer in pig Latin with their right hand held over the "holy" piece of dog shit that they refer to as literary genius.
Only, they were so hardcore about that book, they felt the need to force it on their children. And their children forced it on their children, and so on, and so forth. And they put the fear of God into them in a very John Edward's fashion ("God's going to roast you on a spit over the flames of hell because you're a sinner and if you touch yourself you're going to go blind and become retarded, and no one will love you--Not even GOD! Especially not God, because you're a sinner--and then you'll go to hell where the Devil's going to sodomize you and then not even your hell-mates will want to associate with you!") and told them that if they didn't believe in God, bad things would happen.
And then when you think about it statistically, if your God is telling you that the non-believers are going to hell, and if the other versions of the same God are telling their people that you're going to hell, then aren't we all going to hell?
I don't believe in God or the Devil or any of that, but I do enjoy watching the psychology in action of those delusional bible-thumpers.
Besides. Hell is empty. All the devils are here! (Shakespeare)
Also,
Old Satan left Hell in a rush
to see his wife give one last push.
"Oh God!" She exclaimed.
"I can't take the pain!"
And that's how we got Dubya Bush.
-Anon
So anyway, what I'm wondering (losing sleep over) about is...what if those psycho fangirls do the same thing with Twilight? I mean, they all seem to think that Assphenie Mayonnaise is the best thing since Godiva, and the craze seems to be spreading like more than just a virus. It's like Stockholm Syndrome! They don't even know their logic has been kidnapped! Assphenie Mayonnaise is brainwashing the minds of girls all over the world!
I'll admit, I was a Twilight fan, from the beginning in 2005, and I was in fucking Middle School. It was easy to read and I liked the thought that I could be a huge loser and some super hero angsty bad-boy could come and become addicted to me, and I wouldn't have to worry about anything because he'd love every part of me--
It's the Price Charming Phoenomenom.
Someone should sue Disney for making every girl think she has a prince charming.
And someone should shoot Assphenie in the face for enforcing it, and brainwashing every girl that's ever picked up that brick of shit to believe that it's supposed to be romantic to have your own stalker.
Alright, if a blood thirsty vampire watches you in your sleep, you should be afraid of more things than morning breath.
Also! There's a fine, fine line between [love and a waste of time] sexism and chivalry, and assphenie has danced all over it, and then some.
So I was a fan in the beginning, and I gladly accepted the distraction from my Failure of a life, and by the time things started getting bad (When I got to high school and saw copies of it everywhere) I ignored it. When the books started getting bad, I turned the other way. When I tried reading Twilight and couldn't make it through without criticizing the style, I just thought I'd read the magic out of it.
And then when Breaking Dawn made me laugh so hard I thought it was a Joke, I woke up.
What the hell?
I think the reason it's taking over so easily is because it's not necessarily well written, it's because it's written on a level that everyone can understand.
I saw some elementary girls reading copies of it a few weeks ago. Thought I was going to pull my hair out in frustration.
The idea of Twilight was interesting at first. Vampires that defy standards. The gentle giant that doesn't want to be evil, yadiyadiyada.
But I'm a real vampire fanatic. I love the blood and the murder, and the evil that comes with it. Bring on the coffins and garlic.
Assphenie ruined the word "Twilight" for me. Now I can hardly make it through a Cummings poem without cringing every time I come across the word.
And I suspect Assphenie writes fanfiction of her own books. I think she gets off on knowing that she wrote something stupid enough that all of America (What does that tell you?) could love it.
And it doesn't take a lot of brain-power to realize that Twilight is just her sick necrophiliac fantasy of meeting a guy that would become addicted to her and would never look the other way for even a second and would die at the thought of having to leave her.
MMmm. How long have I been ranting for? I'm really tired now. Why was I ranting again? I started by watching this video, where this preacher started quoting something, and it just reminded me of Twilight fangirls that quote Twilight, and give a page number, chapter, and some context for it.
And then I started freaking out about what if things got like that for Twilight. And we had Twatheists, and Twudiests, and Twatholics, [but they'd all be friends--alright.]--
Urgh. I just used Regina Spektor in reference to assphenie mayonnaise. Someone should slap me.
But RegiSpek is getting really famous now, too. Right now I'm still a delirious fangirl who sings all of her songs (Even the ones that don't have albums) but now she's really popular everywhere, and if I mention her to stupid cunt she'll gush over "Fidelity" and how much she loves it, but couldn't name a single other song of hers. Not even the easy ones like "Us". And if you start talking about Songs--fucking forget about it. They wouldn't like the Pavlov's Daughter version of RegiSpek.
I'm starting to fear that it's like Twilight all over again. Come on, America! Let's not ruin something great, this time! Twilight wasn't really great to begin with, but it might have been acceptable if every ten year old didn't believe there was an Edward Cullen waiting for them to lay them over a bed of rose pedals and coo their virginity out with the promise of eternal love.
Because I'm not sure why this isn't common knowledge, but Homo Sapien Sapien just isn't meant to mate for life. Maybe psychologists haven't mentioned it because of all the religious controversy it might cause (Just like no one wanted to be the first to mention that homosexuality and bisexuality is actually found pretty frequently in nature, so it can't be "unnatural": "Homosexual Activity Among Animals Stirs Debate" from NationalGeographic.com) and freak everyone out. But it's the truth. It's just the way it is. Crows can handle mating for life. But those are crows. If we were meant to be like crows, we would be crows.
So there should be a rule for indie music. Because indie music is only indie music if it stays fucking unknown! If there's good indie music, there should be a rule that only people who can appreciate the style can listen to it. Because otherwise you get people that only like one song because they heard it that one time on the radio and thought it was "sooooo cute and totally reminds me of what I'm goin through right now. It's, like, um, that stuff that my boyfriend does, and it's" exactly what they want to hear. Knowing the most famous song of an indie artist does not make you indie rock.
And now when I meet people like that, I like to sing songs that aren't even on albums yet, just to put things into perspective for them.
Anyway, those Bible-thumpers to me are like....really hardcore Twilight Fangirls. The ones that practice "Cullenism" and literally light the white candle every Monday and do the prayer in pig Latin with their right hand held over the "holy" piece of dog shit that they refer to as literary genius.
Only, they were so hardcore about that book, they felt the need to force it on their children. And their children forced it on their children, and so on, and so forth. And they put the fear of God into them in a very John Edward's fashion ("God's going to roast you on a spit over the flames of hell because you're a sinner and if you touch yourself you're going to go blind and become retarded, and no one will love you--Not even GOD! Especially not God, because you're a sinner--and then you'll go to hell where the Devil's going to sodomize you and then not even your hell-mates will want to associate with you!") and told them that if they didn't believe in God, bad things would happen.
And then when you think about it statistically, if your God is telling you that the non-believers are going to hell, and if the other versions of the same God are telling their people that you're going to hell, then aren't we all going to hell?
I don't believe in God or the Devil or any of that, but I do enjoy watching the psychology in action of those delusional bible-thumpers.
Besides. Hell is empty. All the devils are here! (Shakespeare)
Also,
Old Satan left Hell in a rush
to see his wife give one last push.
"Oh God!" She exclaimed.
"I can't take the pain!"
And that's how we got Dubya Bush.
-Anon
So anyway, what I'm wondering (losing sleep over) about is...what if those psycho fangirls do the same thing with Twilight? I mean, they all seem to think that Assphenie Mayonnaise is the best thing since Godiva, and the craze seems to be spreading like more than just a virus. It's like Stockholm Syndrome! They don't even know their logic has been kidnapped! Assphenie Mayonnaise is brainwashing the minds of girls all over the world!
I'll admit, I was a Twilight fan, from the beginning in 2005, and I was in fucking Middle School. It was easy to read and I liked the thought that I could be a huge loser and some super hero angsty bad-boy could come and become addicted to me, and I wouldn't have to worry about anything because he'd love every part of me--
It's the Price Charming Phoenomenom.
Someone should sue Disney for making every girl think she has a prince charming.
And someone should shoot Assphenie in the face for enforcing it, and brainwashing every girl that's ever picked up that brick of shit to believe that it's supposed to be romantic to have your own stalker.
Alright, if a blood thirsty vampire watches you in your sleep, you should be afraid of more things than morning breath.
Also! There's a fine, fine line between [love and a waste of time] sexism and chivalry, and assphenie has danced all over it, and then some.
So I was a fan in the beginning, and I gladly accepted the distraction from my Failure of a life, and by the time things started getting bad (When I got to high school and saw copies of it everywhere) I ignored it. When the books started getting bad, I turned the other way. When I tried reading Twilight and couldn't make it through without criticizing the style, I just thought I'd read the magic out of it.
And then when Breaking Dawn made me laugh so hard I thought it was a Joke, I woke up.
What the hell?
I think the reason it's taking over so easily is because it's not necessarily well written, it's because it's written on a level that everyone can understand.
I saw some elementary girls reading copies of it a few weeks ago. Thought I was going to pull my hair out in frustration.
The idea of Twilight was interesting at first. Vampires that defy standards. The gentle giant that doesn't want to be evil, yadiyadiyada.
But I'm a real vampire fanatic. I love the blood and the murder, and the evil that comes with it. Bring on the coffins and garlic.
Assphenie ruined the word "Twilight" for me. Now I can hardly make it through a Cummings poem without cringing every time I come across the word.
And I suspect Assphenie writes fanfiction of her own books. I think she gets off on knowing that she wrote something stupid enough that all of America (What does that tell you?) could love it.
And it doesn't take a lot of brain-power to realize that Twilight is just her sick necrophiliac fantasy of meeting a guy that would become addicted to her and would never look the other way for even a second and would die at the thought of having to leave her.
MMmm. How long have I been ranting for? I'm really tired now. Why was I ranting again? I started by watching this video, where this preacher started quoting something, and it just reminded me of Twilight fangirls that quote Twilight, and give a page number, chapter, and some context for it.
And then I started freaking out about what if things got like that for Twilight. And we had Twatheists, and Twudiests, and Twatholics, [but they'd all be friends--alright.]--
Urgh. I just used Regina Spektor in reference to assphenie mayonnaise. Someone should slap me.
But RegiSpek is getting really famous now, too. Right now I'm still a delirious fangirl who sings all of her songs (Even the ones that don't have albums) but now she's really popular everywhere, and if I mention her to stupid cunt she'll gush over "Fidelity" and how much she loves it, but couldn't name a single other song of hers. Not even the easy ones like "Us". And if you start talking about Songs--fucking forget about it. They wouldn't like the Pavlov's Daughter version of RegiSpek.
I'm starting to fear that it's like Twilight all over again. Come on, America! Let's not ruin something great, this time! Twilight wasn't really great to begin with, but it might have been acceptable if every ten year old didn't believe there was an Edward Cullen waiting for them to lay them over a bed of rose pedals and coo their virginity out with the promise of eternal love.
Because I'm not sure why this isn't common knowledge, but Homo Sapien Sapien just isn't meant to mate for life. Maybe psychologists haven't mentioned it because of all the religious controversy it might cause (Just like no one wanted to be the first to mention that homosexuality and bisexuality is actually found pretty frequently in nature, so it can't be "unnatural": "Homosexual Activity Among Animals Stirs Debate" from NationalGeographic.com) and freak everyone out. But it's the truth. It's just the way it is. Crows can handle mating for life. But those are crows. If we were meant to be like crows, we would be crows.
So there should be a rule for indie music. Because indie music is only indie music if it stays fucking unknown! If there's good indie music, there should be a rule that only people who can appreciate the style can listen to it. Because otherwise you get people that only like one song because they heard it that one time on the radio and thought it was "sooooo cute and totally reminds me of what I'm goin through right now. It's, like, um, that stuff that my boyfriend does, and it's" exactly what they want to hear. Knowing the most famous song of an indie artist does not make you indie rock.
And now when I meet people like that, I like to sing songs that aren't even on albums yet, just to put things into perspective for them.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I....
I should really stop blogging when I'm on my period. When I'm on my period I really just want to watch two people beat the snot out of each other or something like that. Or beat the snot out of them myself. I want to watch it rain like the apocalypse. I want to...
Eh. Well, right now I'm so insanely frustrated that I just want to rip my hair out.
I feel a little bit like a fucking idiot. I wasted my life on this stupid thing...years of my life, even. And now....it's all gone, for no reason at all, practically.
And I feel fucking stupid for being upset about it.
I always feel stupid for being upset.
And I mean, it couldn't have happened next week? When I'm not bleeding from the deep south?
I should....do something. Make something. Paint something.
Before I hurt myself doing something stupid.
Do you know what it feels like to have a firecracker explode in your hand?
Well, at first it doesn't hurt. It's the shock, really, that just scares the crap out of you. Especially when you're six. And then your hand is numb for four hours. And when you can finally feel your hand, it's so strange and painful...
So if you're trying to throw firecrackers into a tree, make sure you get the fucking firecrackers out of your hand, first.
Eh. Well, right now I'm so insanely frustrated that I just want to rip my hair out.
I feel a little bit like a fucking idiot. I wasted my life on this stupid thing...years of my life, even. And now....it's all gone, for no reason at all, practically.
And I feel fucking stupid for being upset about it.
I always feel stupid for being upset.
And I mean, it couldn't have happened next week? When I'm not bleeding from the deep south?
I should....do something. Make something. Paint something.
Before I hurt myself doing something stupid.
Do you know what it feels like to have a firecracker explode in your hand?
Well, at first it doesn't hurt. It's the shock, really, that just scares the crap out of you. Especially when you're six. And then your hand is numb for four hours. And when you can finally feel your hand, it's so strange and painful...
So if you're trying to throw firecrackers into a tree, make sure you get the fucking firecrackers out of your hand, first.
Friday, April 17, 2009
!%$#^%$&
Please don't enter my house and literally whistle to get my attention. I am not a dog.
If you feel the need to treat me like a dog, I will respond accordingly and bite you.
That's just one of those things I consider to be a huge insult, whistling at someone. Worse than telling someone to fuck off, probably because I've desensitized that. I dunno. I feel like it's sort of...demoralizing.
Which is why I used to whistle at Alex and say, "Here Boy! Come 'ere!" as a joke when we were fighting. It doesn't really bug him that I've ever noticed. Really, the only way to get back at Alex for the tortures he inflicts upon me is just poking him in the back. He's the same way I used to be. If you poke him in the back he'll fall over and cry. And I don't feel bad doing it, because they used to do it to me, and I know how much that shit hurts. Which is why I don't do it unless I'm severely pissed. That, and the more you use it, the less it hurts.
Admittedly, it still hurts like a mother when people touch my back. I don't like it at all. Just...don't touch my shoulders, don't touch my back, don't even stand behind me.
Anyway, if Randy whistles at my mother, or me again to get our attention, I swear I'm going to fucking slap him.
If you feel the need to treat me like a dog, I will respond accordingly and bite you.
That's just one of those things I consider to be a huge insult, whistling at someone. Worse than telling someone to fuck off, probably because I've desensitized that. I dunno. I feel like it's sort of...demoralizing.
Which is why I used to whistle at Alex and say, "Here Boy! Come 'ere!" as a joke when we were fighting. It doesn't really bug him that I've ever noticed. Really, the only way to get back at Alex for the tortures he inflicts upon me is just poking him in the back. He's the same way I used to be. If you poke him in the back he'll fall over and cry. And I don't feel bad doing it, because they used to do it to me, and I know how much that shit hurts. Which is why I don't do it unless I'm severely pissed. That, and the more you use it, the less it hurts.
Admittedly, it still hurts like a mother when people touch my back. I don't like it at all. Just...don't touch my shoulders, don't touch my back, don't even stand behind me.
Anyway, if Randy whistles at my mother, or me again to get our attention, I swear I'm going to fucking slap him.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Translation
In my mother's language, trust me, they make a lot more sense.
"Fish and kids don’t talk."
"Dreams of a cut off head."
"Running out like a pig on a slippery turn."
"Came out of a cat’s gut."
"If grandma talked like grandpa, she would be grandpa."
Most of them you could probably figure out what they mean anyway. I might end up adding to this list eventually.
"Fish and kids don’t talk."
"Dreams of a cut off head."
"Running out like a pig on a slippery turn."
"Came out of a cat’s gut."
"If grandma talked like grandpa, she would be grandpa."
Most of them you could probably figure out what they mean anyway. I might end up adding to this list eventually.
Musician
I'll be honest.
I didn't know what I was doing, when I picked up the guitar.
I didn't know what it was.
I didn't know that was more than wood and strings.
Timidly,
I plucked,
And pulled
the strings downward,
listening with awe,
as they vibrated,
and resonated--
I heard the voices that were trapped in her still strings.
Help me,
she said.
Give me your fingers,
your lips,
your undulating tongue,
she said.
I had no idea what I was doing.
I didn't know what I was doing, when I picked up the guitar.
I didn't know what it was.
I didn't know that was more than wood and strings.
Timidly,
I plucked,
And pulled
the strings downward,
listening with awe,
as they vibrated,
and resonated--
I heard the voices that were trapped in her still strings.
Help me,
she said.
Give me your fingers,
your lips,
your undulating tongue,
she said.
I had no idea what I was doing.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Nom
Haven't had a banana split since I was seven. I remember...there was this drive-through sort of ice cream stand my Dad used to take me to.
Of course, I liked the thought of ice cream more than I actually liked it. I think I figured I was supposed to like ice cream like every other kid, so I tried really hard to make it look like I did. My dad would get mad when I got something and not be able to finish half of it.
So I stopped eating ice cream.
Although, sometimes I do kind of like vanilla ice cream in small amounts.
And right now I would fucking murder someone for a banana and a scoop of ice cream with a *tiny* bit of chocolate on it. (The darker the better.)
But I guess that's another matter entirely. Does anyone in the house even like ice cream? I don't think anyone bothers buying it. It'd probably expire or whatever ice cream does (*imagines frostbitten ice cream*) before anyone wanted it enough to even open the damn tub.
It's right up there with Milk. There's only one person in the house who does like milk, and (not surprisingly) he's the Which Of The Following Does Not Belong. He's the What's Wrong With This Picture. He's the puzzle piece that doesn't fit nbo matter where you put it.
He's the reason we bother buying milk in the first place. Sometimes it expires before he even gets the top off of it.
Of course, I liked the thought of ice cream more than I actually liked it. I think I figured I was supposed to like ice cream like every other kid, so I tried really hard to make it look like I did. My dad would get mad when I got something and not be able to finish half of it.
So I stopped eating ice cream.
Although, sometimes I do kind of like vanilla ice cream in small amounts.
And right now I would fucking murder someone for a banana and a scoop of ice cream with a *tiny* bit of chocolate on it. (The darker the better.)
But I guess that's another matter entirely. Does anyone in the house even like ice cream? I don't think anyone bothers buying it. It'd probably expire or whatever ice cream does (*imagines frostbitten ice cream*) before anyone wanted it enough to even open the damn tub.
It's right up there with Milk. There's only one person in the house who does like milk, and (not surprisingly) he's the Which Of The Following Does Not Belong. He's the What's Wrong With This Picture. He's the puzzle piece that doesn't fit nbo matter where you put it.
He's the reason we bother buying milk in the first place. Sometimes it expires before he even gets the top off of it.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Finally
I finally have lyrics for the song I've been working on for forever. I'm tempted to post them, but they're sort of cheesy. But then again, all lyrics are cheesy without music. I'll just record the song later.
And I feel kind of bad because...well, the one song I've written that I really love, and I wasted it on my father. It's not really bashing him or anything. It's more like an, "I hope someday you'll know how it feels to have someone push you away and to be afraid that you might never heal," thing.
And then goes on to describe that it wasn't enough to push me away, he had to pull me back, too. And then push me back away again. I probably would have grown up as a normal kid if he could have just left me alone. Now I have a fear of phones, people (males in particular), and serious trust issues. It was like I was caught in this violent undertow, drowning. I didn't have any choice.
But at least now I have the choice to run away. I always was one for fight or flight. And I'm not a particularly confrontational person. I've mentioned it before, right? "She Runs" is the translation of my name. Go figure, yeah?
And I feel kind of bad because...well, the one song I've written that I really love, and I wasted it on my father. It's not really bashing him or anything. It's more like an, "I hope someday you'll know how it feels to have someone push you away and to be afraid that you might never heal," thing.
And then goes on to describe that it wasn't enough to push me away, he had to pull me back, too. And then push me back away again. I probably would have grown up as a normal kid if he could have just left me alone. Now I have a fear of phones, people (males in particular), and serious trust issues. It was like I was caught in this violent undertow, drowning. I didn't have any choice.
But at least now I have the choice to run away. I always was one for fight or flight. And I'm not a particularly confrontational person. I've mentioned it before, right? "She Runs" is the translation of my name. Go figure, yeah?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Nostalgia
Eh. Sometimes I listen to music and hear voices.
Shouldn't it be the other way around? Should the music drown out the voices? And I know the voices don't come from the music, because I can still hear them when I mute it.
It's always been like that, though. I even have memories of it when I was a baby. It has this distinct hunter green, burnt orange feeling. And it kind of feels like the sound of an owl crossed with a throbbing train. Reminds me of the kids section at Books-a-Million. And it's sort of like when you stand up and blood rushes to your head.
I know. It's more of those beta thoughts. Sometimes they don't make sense when they come out of the translation. It's hard to find a synonym....how do you feel a color? But there's no other word for it.
I've been feeling a little mentally weak, lately. I've been having a lot of trouble with memory. Metacognitive memory in particular. Especially when I sing. It's like that part of my brain is being shut off as I'm using it. I'll be in the middle of a phrase, and I'll forget the lyrics as I'm singing them. Even when the words are the same as the phrase before it....it's so frustrating!
And it's getting really easy to get depressed. I sort of want to crawl into bed and never come out. Guitar is lacking the satisfaction is usually gives. I'm not hungry at all. I don't really want to eat. Food that I usually like tastes sort of disgusting to me right now.
But I know that I can't let it get to me. I have to fight it. If I just let it swallow me like I did in that Freshman year of high school, I'll never be able to survive it.
And I know I can fight it. I just have to find the right music. Sadly, however, I'm still missing about 10 gigs of my music collection. What I do have isn't everything I need to pull out of it. I have Death Cab at least. That helps. I still have to find everything all over again.
Shouldn't it be the other way around? Should the music drown out the voices? And I know the voices don't come from the music, because I can still hear them when I mute it.
It's always been like that, though. I even have memories of it when I was a baby. It has this distinct hunter green, burnt orange feeling. And it kind of feels like the sound of an owl crossed with a throbbing train. Reminds me of the kids section at Books-a-Million. And it's sort of like when you stand up and blood rushes to your head.
I know. It's more of those beta thoughts. Sometimes they don't make sense when they come out of the translation. It's hard to find a synonym....how do you feel a color? But there's no other word for it.
I've been feeling a little mentally weak, lately. I've been having a lot of trouble with memory. Metacognitive memory in particular. Especially when I sing. It's like that part of my brain is being shut off as I'm using it. I'll be in the middle of a phrase, and I'll forget the lyrics as I'm singing them. Even when the words are the same as the phrase before it....it's so frustrating!
And it's getting really easy to get depressed. I sort of want to crawl into bed and never come out. Guitar is lacking the satisfaction is usually gives. I'm not hungry at all. I don't really want to eat. Food that I usually like tastes sort of disgusting to me right now.
But I know that I can't let it get to me. I have to fight it. If I just let it swallow me like I did in that Freshman year of high school, I'll never be able to survive it.
And I know I can fight it. I just have to find the right music. Sadly, however, I'm still missing about 10 gigs of my music collection. What I do have isn't everything I need to pull out of it. I have Death Cab at least. That helps. I still have to find everything all over again.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Dye
Realized that my favorite hoodie was covered in paint stains....decided to dye it black.
Meh, it was already half-way there.
It's sort of hard to type with these sticky rubber gloves. You know how in the boxes of hair dye they come with these latex gloves or something, and they're coated with powder?
Well, an hour ago, after I dyed my hair and decided, "I should keep these gloves and dye my jacket, too. It'll be a regular Day of the Dyed." I didn't realize that rinsing away the powder would turn the gloves into a sticky mess.
I mean, they're clean, but I have to peel my fingers away from each other every five seconds. I have to type with all of my fingers distinctly spread apart from each other. Can't take them off until I'm finished, or I can assure you I'll never be able to get them back on.
Anyway, I'm stuck sitting here on my toilet for another half-hour, "regularly stirring" and waiting for my jacket to absorb the dye.
And some of the dye splashed little drops around my arm...I look like a fucking dalmatian. And now that it's being absorbed by my skin, they're starting to look like fresh bruises.
Then there's a huge fucking smear on my other arm, looks like a giant bruise. I think if anyone asks I'll tell them I wrestled a bear to the ground or something equally stupid.
Still another twenty-five minutes....Hm.
Well to end the "Sisters" story, my sister went to tell my mother that I wanted to borrow $10...but sound carries around the house. So she laughed hysterically and told us she heard us. So she brought me the ten dollars, and my sister and I met each other half-way, exchanging the goods all at once.
Mami laughed.
And I don't really use iTunes that much, but a lot of the time I run out of luck when I'm trying to find really indie music...and you search and you search....nowhere. It's even worse when it's Japanese indie music or Vietnamese or Finnish or something equally obscure. *facepalm* Then it's not even on iTunes. Sure, it's in the Japanese iTunes Store. But you need a valid address, a name and a Japanese credit card for that to work. American iTunes gift cards do not apply. *seethes* Other available options? Pay $40 for a seven track CD on Amazon that will take fucking forever and a goddamn fortune to ship.
Psh. With that money I can pay to get front row seats to see one of my favorite American Indie bands live.
Still about another fifteen minutes.
I guess I'll just post this. Maybe try adding to the sketch I've been working on.
Meh, it was already half-way there.
It's sort of hard to type with these sticky rubber gloves. You know how in the boxes of hair dye they come with these latex gloves or something, and they're coated with powder?
Well, an hour ago, after I dyed my hair and decided, "I should keep these gloves and dye my jacket, too. It'll be a regular Day of the Dyed." I didn't realize that rinsing away the powder would turn the gloves into a sticky mess.
I mean, they're clean, but I have to peel my fingers away from each other every five seconds. I have to type with all of my fingers distinctly spread apart from each other. Can't take them off until I'm finished, or I can assure you I'll never be able to get them back on.
Anyway, I'm stuck sitting here on my toilet for another half-hour, "regularly stirring" and waiting for my jacket to absorb the dye.
And some of the dye splashed little drops around my arm...I look like a fucking dalmatian. And now that it's being absorbed by my skin, they're starting to look like fresh bruises.
Then there's a huge fucking smear on my other arm, looks like a giant bruise. I think if anyone asks I'll tell them I wrestled a bear to the ground or something equally stupid.
Still another twenty-five minutes....Hm.
Well to end the "Sisters" story, my sister went to tell my mother that I wanted to borrow $10...but sound carries around the house. So she laughed hysterically and told us she heard us. So she brought me the ten dollars, and my sister and I met each other half-way, exchanging the goods all at once.
Mami laughed.
And I don't really use iTunes that much, but a lot of the time I run out of luck when I'm trying to find really indie music...and you search and you search....nowhere. It's even worse when it's Japanese indie music or Vietnamese or Finnish or something equally obscure. *facepalm* Then it's not even on iTunes. Sure, it's in the Japanese iTunes Store. But you need a valid address, a name and a Japanese credit card for that to work. American iTunes gift cards do not apply. *seethes* Other available options? Pay $40 for a seven track CD on Amazon that will take fucking forever and a goddamn fortune to ship.
Psh. With that money I can pay to get front row seats to see one of my favorite American Indie bands live.
Still about another fifteen minutes.
I guess I'll just post this. Maybe try adding to the sketch I've been working on.
Say 'What?' one more goddamn time, motherfucker!
There are few things I hate more than repetition.
Repetition in poetry is alright. It's intentional. It has meaning. Purpose.
But don't fucking tell me the same thing over and over again.
Don't remind me, don't shout at me. I'm not fucking stupid. I heard you the first time.
I just...I hate it. I hate schedules. I hate routines. I can't even keep time anymore. I just try to know when I need to be somewhere. Which basically means I'm either late or early to everywhere I go, but meh. C'est la vie. It's better than going crazy.
I hate seeing the same things over and over and over. Which is sort of why I don't really like going to 4Chan anymore, except in the event of extreme boredom.
My only exceptions are books and movies and music. Somehow, I can watch the same movie sixty times and it'll never get old. Or I'll read the same book over and over again...just because it's sort of like a movie to me. The words bleed into images and it's almost like I'm not reading at all. It's like a fantastic movie.
I can't even stand making plans anymore. It's all the same thing every day, anyway. Next week will be the same as last week. This week. Why bother thinking ahead to next month?
Repetition in poetry is alright. It's intentional. It has meaning. Purpose.
But don't fucking tell me the same thing over and over again.
Don't remind me, don't shout at me. I'm not fucking stupid. I heard you the first time.
I just...I hate it. I hate schedules. I hate routines. I can't even keep time anymore. I just try to know when I need to be somewhere. Which basically means I'm either late or early to everywhere I go, but meh. C'est la vie. It's better than going crazy.
I hate seeing the same things over and over and over. Which is sort of why I don't really like going to 4Chan anymore, except in the event of extreme boredom.
My only exceptions are books and movies and music. Somehow, I can watch the same movie sixty times and it'll never get old. Or I'll read the same book over and over again...just because it's sort of like a movie to me. The words bleed into images and it's almost like I'm not reading at all. It's like a fantastic movie.
I can't even stand making plans anymore. It's all the same thing every day, anyway. Next week will be the same as last week. This week. Why bother thinking ahead to next month?
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sisters
My sister comes in.
"Hey, did you use the iTunes card Mami gave you for Christmas?"
"Erm....yes, but I forgot the login...and password...and e-mail address. I didn't actually get a chance to buy anything with it."
"..."
"Please don't laugh."
"Alright, well would you like to buy mine?"
"Um...sure. If I had any money."
"Oh. Alright."
*tinkers on guitar*
"Well, would you like to buy it for ten dollars?"
"If I had ten dollars, maybe."
"Well, how much money do you have?"
"Absolutely nothing. I think there's a dollar on the bookshelf and maybe three dollars in quarters if you look around the room hard enough."
"Oh. Because I want to go pickup my paycheck, but I don't want to run out of gas. And I'm out of gas money."
"You could ask Mami for ten dollars."
"Yeah, but I don't want to. I can't really afford to pay her back."
"Well, you could ask Mami for ten dollars. And then I could ask Mami for ten dollars and buy the gift card, and then you can pay her back for her ten dollars."
"We're terrible. I can see it now: 'Hey Mami, can I borrow ten dollars? V also wants to borrow ten dollars, but you can just hold onto that.'"
"Yeah, and then you just give me the gift card. Doesn't look as good, though, does it. Either way she loses ten dollars."
"Yeah. Other ideas?"
"You could just tell her that I want to borrow ten dollars. Then I'll tell her you want to borrow ten dollars. You give me the gift card, give her back twenty dollars, and not go anywhere."
"..."
"Or you could just tell her that I want to borrow ten dollars."
"Really? That's great, I'll go do that!"
"...I was sort of kidding, but sure, go ahead."
"Thanks!"
"Hey, did you use the iTunes card Mami gave you for Christmas?"
"Erm....yes, but I forgot the login...and password...and e-mail address. I didn't actually get a chance to buy anything with it."
"..."
"Please don't laugh."
"Alright, well would you like to buy mine?"
"Um...sure. If I had any money."
"Oh. Alright."
*tinkers on guitar*
"Well, would you like to buy it for ten dollars?"
"If I had ten dollars, maybe."
"Well, how much money do you have?"
"Absolutely nothing. I think there's a dollar on the bookshelf and maybe three dollars in quarters if you look around the room hard enough."
"Oh. Because I want to go pickup my paycheck, but I don't want to run out of gas. And I'm out of gas money."
"You could ask Mami for ten dollars."
"Yeah, but I don't want to. I can't really afford to pay her back."
"Well, you could ask Mami for ten dollars. And then I could ask Mami for ten dollars and buy the gift card, and then you can pay her back for her ten dollars."
"We're terrible. I can see it now: 'Hey Mami, can I borrow ten dollars? V also wants to borrow ten dollars, but you can just hold onto that.'"
"Yeah, and then you just give me the gift card. Doesn't look as good, though, does it. Either way she loses ten dollars."
"Yeah. Other ideas?"
"You could just tell her that I want to borrow ten dollars. Then I'll tell her you want to borrow ten dollars. You give me the gift card, give her back twenty dollars, and not go anywhere."
"..."
"Or you could just tell her that I want to borrow ten dollars."
"Really? That's great, I'll go do that!"
"...I was sort of kidding, but sure, go ahead."
"Thanks!"
Friday, March 27, 2009
Protip
For future reference...if (as impossible as it might seem for you) you end up in a relationship with someone, and can sense an argument escalating, don't shout, "Stop! Just stop!" like an idiot.
This will not halt an argument in its tracks. In fact, if I was upset and you shouted "stop!" in my face as loudly as He is at my mother right now, I would probably punch you in the mouth.
Also, potato peelers can be used to peel kiwis (the fruit) for the lazy fucks who just can't take the time to use a goddamn knife.
This will not halt an argument in its tracks. In fact, if I was upset and you shouted "stop!" in my face as loudly as He is at my mother right now, I would probably punch you in the mouth.
Also, potato peelers can be used to peel kiwis (the fruit) for the lazy fucks who just can't take the time to use a goddamn knife.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Human Nature
There is a spider (not a mosquito bite, as I had originally thought) bite on my shoulder blade, right where it hits the mattress.
And I made the mistake of picking at it. So now it's a sore, swollen, sensitive spider bite, that happens to be pressing into my mattress.
And I don't usually sleep on my back, since I find it uncomfortable...I actually tend to curl up when I sleep. Or twist into strange shapes. My mother used to wake me up in the morning and ask if I needed to go to a chiropractor.
It was the only way I could get comfortable.
But now, since there's a swollen, irritated, sensitive spider bite on my shoulder, I kind of want to sleep on my back.
It's the same reason I can only stand the taste of milk when I'm sick and can't have it. The same reason I start dreaming about sleeping in orange grooves--after I come to opposite-Florida (I'm still floating in the wake of that gentle scent of orange blossoms...scent is so soft...like a caress to the nose...not at all like other abrasive odors that attack daily. Yet waking up with the ghost of it clouding my head feels like a slap in the face. I guess maybe to me it's like that because I grew up around it.). Same reason I wear hats after I dye my hair. Same reason I love (As much as I can, at least.) someone sometime after I realize I can't see them again.
It's like a fucking delayed reaction. Suischadenfreude. Masochism.
And I made the mistake of picking at it. So now it's a sore, swollen, sensitive spider bite, that happens to be pressing into my mattress.
And I don't usually sleep on my back, since I find it uncomfortable...I actually tend to curl up when I sleep. Or twist into strange shapes. My mother used to wake me up in the morning and ask if I needed to go to a chiropractor.
It was the only way I could get comfortable.
But now, since there's a swollen, irritated, sensitive spider bite on my shoulder, I kind of want to sleep on my back.
It's the same reason I can only stand the taste of milk when I'm sick and can't have it. The same reason I start dreaming about sleeping in orange grooves--after I come to opposite-Florida (I'm still floating in the wake of that gentle scent of orange blossoms...scent is so soft...like a caress to the nose...not at all like other abrasive odors that attack daily. Yet waking up with the ghost of it clouding my head feels like a slap in the face. I guess maybe to me it's like that because I grew up around it.). Same reason I wear hats after I dye my hair. Same reason I love (As much as I can, at least.) someone sometime after I realize I can't see them again.
It's like a fucking delayed reaction. Suischadenfreude. Masochism.
Metaphors
It's more than just a copy of a copy of a copy.
It's not just that everything is sort of far away, like you're seeing everything through a tube. When people speak to you, you might not even process anything more than just, this person is talking to me.
Please, just shut the fuck up already.
It's like doing sobsolutely nothing for six hours but sitting on a couch watching television for more than six hours, and then standing up and looking around and realizing you haven't thought a single original, personal actual thought for more than six hours. That sort of stupid, blinking, drooling retarded feeling you get, as you wait for your brain to snap back awake and start functioning again.
But it doesn't.
That's insomnia.
It's not just that everything is sort of far away, like you're seeing everything through a tube. When people speak to you, you might not even process anything more than just, this person is talking to me.
Please, just shut the fuck up already.
It's like doing sobsolutely nothing for six hours but sitting on a couch watching television for more than six hours, and then standing up and looking around and realizing you haven't thought a single original, personal actual thought for more than six hours. That sort of stupid, blinking, drooling retarded feeling you get, as you wait for your brain to snap back awake and start functioning again.
But it doesn't.
That's insomnia.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Holy Shit.
My sister has just entered the house.
She has not stepped within twenty feet of me.
And already I can smell the alcohol hanging off of her in clouds.
Welcome Home.
I feel better, though. Chewy just hopped on my lap. And he's purring.
There's just something about a cat that just makes it hard to be sad.
She has not stepped within twenty feet of me.
And already I can smell the alcohol hanging off of her in clouds.
Welcome Home.
I feel better, though. Chewy just hopped on my lap. And he's purring.
There's just something about a cat that just makes it hard to be sad.
Therapy
It sort of is, you know. I guess my blog is sort of hard to stomach since I really only blog when I'm feeling depressed.
If I blog when I'm not depressed, I'll find a way to make myself depressed.
And if I don't, I just manage to make myself look like an idiot.
And it's so stupid, that it always feels so much worse when you finally admit that you are depressed. Not just tired, not sleepy.
It's not "so bizarre" that you can't seem to stay awake anymore. That you feel like someone kicked the shit out of you.
That you
....that you lose the motivation to even finish a sentence.
Forget it. I'm going to bed.
If I blog when I'm not depressed, I'll find a way to make myself depressed.
And if I don't, I just manage to make myself look like an idiot.
And it's so stupid, that it always feels so much worse when you finally admit that you are depressed. Not just tired, not sleepy.
It's not "so bizarre" that you can't seem to stay awake anymore. That you feel like someone kicked the shit out of you.
That you
....that you lose the motivation to even finish a sentence.
Forget it. I'm going to bed.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Lethologica
It's like mental dyslexia.
I said McDonald's, but I was thinking Burger King.
I realize chloroform probably isn't good for your skin. Sorry, I was actually thinking of chlorophyll.
No, I know you signed Wednesday...I don't know why I translated Thursday....it just sort of slipped out. Yes, I can tell the difference between an "H" and a "W". I'm not retarded, thank you.
I fucking--
Oops....didn't mean to drop the f-bomb. I said 'bloody'...right? Please! No detention! I didn't say it! I didn't!
And then, hey, you know that song, I think you'd like it. It's called....I....uh....um.....it's....I.........who was it by again?....it's by....euh.....hang on, I'll find it.....it's......
*whimper*
Come on! It was right there! I had it, in my brain, on the tip of my tongue...
I just forgot my phone number.
No, I meant turn it off, not on....sorry.
Wait! I just forgot which button you use to shoot items.
Sign here?
....I....erm.....what's my last name again?
It's fucking torture is what it is. In the end, it ends up with me mixing up words that I've associated together, be it by sound, or just the similarities in what the words actually are.
And if it's something that I haven't associated with something else, I won't be able to recall it at all.
In my mind, it's like these words aren't even kept in English. I'm thinking in feelings. Every word has a distinct feeling, a vibe. Similar things, similar vibes. Try to bring them back, and they get fucked up in the translation.
I cuss a lot, because the English language doesn't have accurate translations for those particular vibes. They're filler words.
Familiar words.
I've grown tired of this.......
The word..............is.....I...erm....the letter "T" comes to mind.....
I....?
Oh, fuck this.
I said McDonald's, but I was thinking Burger King.
I realize chloroform probably isn't good for your skin. Sorry, I was actually thinking of chlorophyll.
No, I know you signed Wednesday...I don't know why I translated Thursday....it just sort of slipped out. Yes, I can tell the difference between an "H" and a "W". I'm not retarded, thank you.
I fucking--
Oops....didn't mean to drop the f-bomb. I said 'bloody'...right? Please! No detention! I didn't say it! I didn't!
And then, hey, you know that song, I think you'd like it. It's called....I....uh....um.....it's....I.........who was it by again?....it's by....euh.....hang on, I'll find it.....it's......
*whimper*
Come on! It was right there! I had it, in my brain, on the tip of my tongue...
I just forgot my phone number.
No, I meant turn it off, not on....sorry.
Wait! I just forgot which button you use to shoot items.
Sign here?
....I....erm.....what's my last name again?
It's fucking torture is what it is. In the end, it ends up with me mixing up words that I've associated together, be it by sound, or just the similarities in what the words actually are.
And if it's something that I haven't associated with something else, I won't be able to recall it at all.
In my mind, it's like these words aren't even kept in English. I'm thinking in feelings. Every word has a distinct feeling, a vibe. Similar things, similar vibes. Try to bring them back, and they get fucked up in the translation.
I cuss a lot, because the English language doesn't have accurate translations for those particular vibes. They're filler words.
Familiar words.
I've grown tired of this.......
The word..............is.....I...erm....the letter "T" comes to mind.....
I....?
Oh, fuck this.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
La Soumis(e)
I've always been pretty fucked up when it comes to men.
In the end, it comes down to really...just a lack of trust. For a while I used to think that it was just all people in general, but I've only just realized that I *can* talk on the telephone, after all.
To my mother, my sisters, Ciocia Iwona, my best friend in Florida. The Hindi women working tech support for TracFone.
But if I called tech support and it was a man on the line I think I probably would have hyperventilated and hung up before I could stutter out an issue.
I just...I can't do it.
And after facing the very serious consequences for something completely harmless that I totally didn't mean to do when I was seven....well, I just can't handle being yelled at by a man. If I dropped the F-bomb and one of my female professors told me not to do it again, I would have just smiled and apologized, and made an honest effort to not do it again.
If a man did it, I would have wanted to crawl into a corner and kill myself. I feel this terrible urge to punish myself, like no matter what I do, I'm a completely worthless individual who cannot succeed regardless of any pathetic attempt I might manage to pull forward with.
:(
And the worst part is? I think if I had grown up completely normally with two parents in a suburb somewhere, I probably would have ended up with a naturally submissive personality. Because I can sort of feel it inside of me, like deep down I'm a submissive person.
But now...eh, I kind of feel like a whipped dog that's limping, whimpering in the corner just wishing it could become invisible.
I want to trust people, sort of, but I'm fucking scared out of my mind to try. It's so easy for someone to hurt me. It really is. And that honestly scares the crap out of me.
I was actually in a really good mood today, but then I let it get to me. Wish there was a way to turn off my brain. Then I could stop feeling so bi-polar all of the time.
In the end, it comes down to really...just a lack of trust. For a while I used to think that it was just all people in general, but I've only just realized that I *can* talk on the telephone, after all.
To my mother, my sisters, Ciocia Iwona, my best friend in Florida. The Hindi women working tech support for TracFone.
But if I called tech support and it was a man on the line I think I probably would have hyperventilated and hung up before I could stutter out an issue.
I just...I can't do it.
And after facing the very serious consequences for something completely harmless that I totally didn't mean to do when I was seven....well, I just can't handle being yelled at by a man. If I dropped the F-bomb and one of my female professors told me not to do it again, I would have just smiled and apologized, and made an honest effort to not do it again.
If a man did it, I would have wanted to crawl into a corner and kill myself. I feel this terrible urge to punish myself, like no matter what I do, I'm a completely worthless individual who cannot succeed regardless of any pathetic attempt I might manage to pull forward with.
:(
And the worst part is? I think if I had grown up completely normally with two parents in a suburb somewhere, I probably would have ended up with a naturally submissive personality. Because I can sort of feel it inside of me, like deep down I'm a submissive person.
But now...eh, I kind of feel like a whipped dog that's limping, whimpering in the corner just wishing it could become invisible.
I want to trust people, sort of, but I'm fucking scared out of my mind to try. It's so easy for someone to hurt me. It really is. And that honestly scares the crap out of me.
I was actually in a really good mood today, but then I let it get to me. Wish there was a way to turn off my brain. Then I could stop feeling so bi-polar all of the time.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
You May Tire of Me.
I wish I could write them like Ben Gibbard.
You know, when I was younger I used to daydream and imagine what it would be like living in a Hooverville. I thought it would be like living in one of those forts I used to make as a kid. And you'd be more tight-knit with the neighborhood. You'd play all day out in the streets. And things would be tight, but your family would always be there for you.
I guess I was always the daughter that the other mothers didn't want their daughters playing with. At least, at my Dad's house. I guess they figured, "What's a 60 year old man and his wife doing with this little girl?"
Didn't take too much to piece two and two together. I think they thought of me as the wild little girl with a lack of morals. They sort of regarded me like I was Wednesday Addams, although I didn't pick up on that until I was older looking back. They would sort of brush me aside. My friends...well, one of them was really my friend. I think the rest of them were told by their mothers to keep a wary eye on me. Never leave me alone with a toy and all that. Don't listen to anything she tells you, it's probably a lie.
And then, at home I had one best friend. One *real* best friend. The best friend I ever had. I don't remember how long she'd lived with us, but it felt like years.
Probably only lasted a summer, though. Her mother had cancer, and eventually she moved away. I think I could connect with her so well because there she was the girl the other mothers didn't want their daughters playing with (excluding mine) and we would run around and have fun. Bicker and fight and joke and play and just be little girls.
Man, it sucks being friendless. I think when I needed her most she had to leave. For years, looking back I don't think I really had any honest true friends for years, until the eighth grade at least. Then I had to go and leave them behind.
And now I might have to go and leave these behind. No wonder I'm so much of a fucking introvert. You can't trust people if you know you'll just have to leave them.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Not Enough Time
When I was in the seventh grade, there was this obnoxious guy sitting next to me in sixth period US History. And I can't remember for the life of me what his name or face was, but I remember he was obnoxious. And familiar.
And once, I pretended to spit at his feet in class, when he was teasing me. Because you know, I always thought spitting at someone was a huge insult. And I didn't actually spit, but I've always been really good at pretending, you know?
Anyway, he reacted like a girl, actually squealed and shouted loudly that I spat at him.
Fucking pussy.
And I got moved to the back of the row. And I don't have any memories of that class after that, so I think I moved away right after that.
And I don't know why I'm thinking about this, but something about him is just so familiar.
He teased me a lot.
Alright, everyone teased me a lot.
But he was different, I think. Sort of reminds me
Do you ever lose the motivation to say or write something, mid-sentence?
I'm so tired. And I have to get up early tomorrow, too.
Fuuuuuuck. I don't want to, but I sort of do.
And once, I pretended to spit at his feet in class, when he was teasing me. Because you know, I always thought spitting at someone was a huge insult. And I didn't actually spit, but I've always been really good at pretending, you know?
Anyway, he reacted like a girl, actually squealed and shouted loudly that I spat at him.
Fucking pussy.
And I got moved to the back of the row. And I don't have any memories of that class after that, so I think I moved away right after that.
And I don't know why I'm thinking about this, but something about him is just so familiar.
He teased me a lot.
Alright, everyone teased me a lot.
But he was different, I think. Sort of reminds me
Do you ever lose the motivation to say or write something, mid-sentence?
I'm so tired. And I have to get up early tomorrow, too.
Fuuuuuuck. I don't want to, but I sort of do.
Monday, February 9, 2009
What part of "pass PRO.1 cup++, please" is so hard to understand?
Of the precious few time I am ever excessively pleased to know that I was wrong, this probably tops the list.
I feel sort of disgusting, though. I'm not really up for a cold shower, because I'm afraid it'll trigger the chills, and my temperature has been too high for the last three days to safely take a shower without collapsing.
But between burning up with the fever, and then fucking freezing with the chills...sweating and shivering...I feel grimy and disgusting. :(
With all of the symptoms, my heart sunk when it came to look like mono. Fucking A, you know? I don't have time for mono!
But the doctor confirmed that it wasn't strep throat, and that while it might have been mono, it's pretty unlikely. Also...how could I even get mono? It's possible, but still insanely unlikely.
Instead, it looks like a particularly nasty throat infection. This one, I can't even talk with. Words scrape along my throat like sandpaper, grating against my ears as they leave.
What else is strange? I've learned that I make noise when I sleep. Like little whimpering sighs. Scared the shit out me.
It's starts with music, I guess. There's always music. Even as I fall asleep, there's a song itching at the back of my mind. And I tend to grate everyone's nerves, because I sing. It's a physical compulsive urge, actually. I can resist it if I get in the habit of it, but it involves grinding my teeth and feeling generally miserable.
Anyway, halfway between sleep and consciousness, I could feel the music in my mind, and I guess the compulsive urge took over, because I could hear myself make a poor whimpering attempt at...something.
I don't know. But the sound was enough to wake me up completely, because it startled me that much. I didn't feel myself make the sound, so I made it again, feeling my vocal chords vibrate when I directly wanted to make it myself.
Do you know how disturbing it feels when your body does something without you telling it to? I knew how He felt when he told me about it before, but I didn't really want to experience it like that.
And I swear, it's been fucking 9:40 for the last five minutes. I would kill for a shower. And maybe an hour of sleep, if possible, but instead, I'll just down some of that Tussin crap (I don't think even a spoonful of sugar could make that shit go down in any kind of delightful way.) and mope a little bit more.
The worst part is? Not being able to talk. I swear there's nothing harder than getting a hearing person's attention without using sound.
I've been trying to teach everyone signs, but I guess they didn't care enough to pay attention, because even the really obvious ones they can't seem to understand. Not being able to talk is an easy thing to overcome if you already know some sign language.
But that doesn't really help at all if no one else knows how to sign. -_-
I feel sort of disgusting, though. I'm not really up for a cold shower, because I'm afraid it'll trigger the chills, and my temperature has been too high for the last three days to safely take a shower without collapsing.
But between burning up with the fever, and then fucking freezing with the chills...sweating and shivering...I feel grimy and disgusting. :(
With all of the symptoms, my heart sunk when it came to look like mono. Fucking A, you know? I don't have time for mono!
But the doctor confirmed that it wasn't strep throat, and that while it might have been mono, it's pretty unlikely. Also...how could I even get mono? It's possible, but still insanely unlikely.
Instead, it looks like a particularly nasty throat infection. This one, I can't even talk with. Words scrape along my throat like sandpaper, grating against my ears as they leave.
What else is strange? I've learned that I make noise when I sleep. Like little whimpering sighs. Scared the shit out me.
It's starts with music, I guess. There's always music. Even as I fall asleep, there's a song itching at the back of my mind. And I tend to grate everyone's nerves, because I sing. It's a physical compulsive urge, actually. I can resist it if I get in the habit of it, but it involves grinding my teeth and feeling generally miserable.
Anyway, halfway between sleep and consciousness, I could feel the music in my mind, and I guess the compulsive urge took over, because I could hear myself make a poor whimpering attempt at...something.
I don't know. But the sound was enough to wake me up completely, because it startled me that much. I didn't feel myself make the sound, so I made it again, feeling my vocal chords vibrate when I directly wanted to make it myself.
Do you know how disturbing it feels when your body does something without you telling it to? I knew how He felt when he told me about it before, but I didn't really want to experience it like that.
And I swear, it's been fucking 9:40 for the last five minutes. I would kill for a shower. And maybe an hour of sleep, if possible, but instead, I'll just down some of that Tussin crap (I don't think even a spoonful of sugar could make that shit go down in any kind of delightful way.) and mope a little bit more.
The worst part is? Not being able to talk. I swear there's nothing harder than getting a hearing person's attention without using sound.
I've been trying to teach everyone signs, but I guess they didn't care enough to pay attention, because even the really obvious ones they can't seem to understand. Not being able to talk is an easy thing to overcome if you already know some sign language.
But that doesn't really help at all if no one else knows how to sign. -_-
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It was good coffee, too.
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
I dropped
my coffee cup
on the
counter when you
(behind me)
crept up so quietly.
And I can feel that
stead dy Rhy thm
in which it
Drips
Drips
Drips
Drips
.But really, all I can feel is the
rhy thm
in your
lips
lips
lips
lips
and it's a little
funny
because you taste
like coffee
and sugar
and honey
and i can't even mourn
the l
o
s
s
of my stolen
sips
sips
sips
sips
because your
lips
lips
lips
lips
taste a little
bit
bit
bit
bit
better.
But I can assure you,
once my head clears
and I can think about
more than just your
hands on my
hips
hips
hips
hips
And how nice it feels
that you just
bit
bit
bit
bit
my
lip
lip
lip
lip
I will make you buy me
a new cup of coffee.
But for now,
Let the goddamn coffee go
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
I dropped
my coffee cup
on the
counter when you
(behind me)
crept up so quietly.
And I can feel that
stead dy Rhy thm
in which it
Drips
Drips
Drips
Drips
.But really, all I can feel is the
rhy thm
in your
lips
lips
lips
lips
and it's a little
funny
because you taste
like coffee
and sugar
and honey
and i can't even mourn
the l
o
s
s
of my stolen
sips
sips
sips
sips
because your
lips
lips
lips
lips
taste a little
bit
bit
bit
bit
better.
But I can assure you,
once my head clears
and I can think about
more than just your
hands on my
hips
hips
hips
hips
And how nice it feels
that you just
bit
bit
bit
bit
my
lip
lip
lip
lip
I will make you buy me
a new cup of coffee.
But for now,
Let the goddamn coffee go
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Monday, February 2, 2009
Downer
I'm such a downer, aren't I?
I just scanned through my blog posts.
I'm not always this pessimistic.
Alright, that's a lie.
I feel like I spend most of my energy just trying to be happy. And I think there's a point where you smile so much that you start to believe it.
It's usually the point where the stoners look at you like you're on crack and inch away slowly from you because you "smile way too fucking much".
The sad thing is that I'm actually in an alright mood, right now. Finally found the capo for my guitar. Starting mapping out the bones for yet another new song. :)
I'm getting better at this song writing stuff.
And I have two essays to write. Well, one to edit, one to start from scratch. Le book critique, et le thematic analyzation. Fucking Fitzgerald.
And I've been on a strange Beatles/Sinatra kick, lately. In between trying to tab out Happiness is a Warm Gun and lazily strumming Something, I've been murmuring Come Fly With Me under my breath.
I just wish that Sinatra was a bit more guitar compatible.
I just scanned through my blog posts.
I'm not always this pessimistic.
Alright, that's a lie.
I feel like I spend most of my energy just trying to be happy. And I think there's a point where you smile so much that you start to believe it.
It's usually the point where the stoners look at you like you're on crack and inch away slowly from you because you "smile way too fucking much".
The sad thing is that I'm actually in an alright mood, right now. Finally found the capo for my guitar. Starting mapping out the bones for yet another new song. :)
I'm getting better at this song writing stuff.
And I have two essays to write. Well, one to edit, one to start from scratch. Le book critique, et le thematic analyzation. Fucking Fitzgerald.
And I've been on a strange Beatles/Sinatra kick, lately. In between trying to tab out Happiness is a Warm Gun and lazily strumming Something, I've been murmuring Come Fly With Me under my breath.
I just wish that Sinatra was a bit more guitar compatible.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Lost and Found
I guess being found runs in my family.
No, that's not true.
Running runs in my family.
We might not necessarily be good runners, but we do run. Hell, my last name literally translates to "to run". My name literally means "(she) runs".
But we must not be very good at it, because we seem to have a knack for getting found.
Change name, start over.
Can't change my name. Can't start over.
Cut ties, run faster.
Don't want to cut ties.
Why the fuck should I have to run? Why can't people just stop looking?
And now, I can't really ever look at Russian Roulette the same way ever again, after I found out what he did to my mother. Sick motherfucker.
So yeah. I guess I do have some dependency issues. I can't help it. After being dropped on your ass so many times by so many people, you don't really want to anticipate it, do you? The solution is pretty simple...fucking stop depending on people.
I'm a bit too good at it, I should think.
And in the end, really, I'm just all messed up. I can't take control of shit because I'm just not a domineering kind of person. I can't take control without fucking up. I'm just naturally submissive.
But you can't be submissive if you don't trust people. So now I feel like my brain is fighting with itself constantly. Like two vicious dogs snarling and frothing at each other.
Meh. I feel like a walking paradox, sometimes.
No, that's not true.
Running runs in my family.
We might not necessarily be good runners, but we do run. Hell, my last name literally translates to "to run". My name literally means "(she) runs".
But we must not be very good at it, because we seem to have a knack for getting found.
Change name, start over.
Can't change my name. Can't start over.
Cut ties, run faster.
Don't want to cut ties.
Why the fuck should I have to run? Why can't people just stop looking?
And now, I can't really ever look at Russian Roulette the same way ever again, after I found out what he did to my mother. Sick motherfucker.
So yeah. I guess I do have some dependency issues. I can't help it. After being dropped on your ass so many times by so many people, you don't really want to anticipate it, do you? The solution is pretty simple...fucking stop depending on people.
I'm a bit too good at it, I should think.
And in the end, really, I'm just all messed up. I can't take control of shit because I'm just not a domineering kind of person. I can't take control without fucking up. I'm just naturally submissive.
But you can't be submissive if you don't trust people. So now I feel like my brain is fighting with itself constantly. Like two vicious dogs snarling and frothing at each other.
Meh. I feel like a walking paradox, sometimes.
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