Fucking Terrible at Taking Hints

I've been sort of obsessed with lips, lately.

There's that whole tingling feeling in your stomach, that you wish was in your lips. While they're against someone elses.

:$

Lips, lips, lips.

Yup. Still can't get over that block. I guess there's no changing it. That shit is private.

Psychological Torture

I used to hate myself for procrastinating.

Well, I still do, somewhat. I hate myself for keeping myself on needles like that.

But I've found that I seem to do my best work under pressure.

Which is strange, because I usually buckle under pressure. I do buckle under pressure.

But I guess it's that buckling that pushes me to do well. It's almost like psychological torture. I put things off, and the longer I put it off, the more nervous I get.

Finally, I get to the point where I'm about ready to start screaming, and I realize that there's no way I could pull anything decent together.

And I'm convinced that no matter what I do, it's going to be shit. So I better try my damnedest to make something that isn't unworthy of picking dogshit off the sidewalk with.

And somehow those end up becoming my best assignments.

I have one hell of a thematic analytical essay due tomorrow. I should start that.

But I'm still at the point where I can't bring myself to care enough to get started.

---

I can assure you, my presence in the real world is not so extinguished that I have the time to post every day (Sometimes more than that, I'll admit.). I've had a long time of blogging build-up. I'm just aching to spill my brain onto this keyboard.

It's going to take a while, I can sense.

---

-10 -9 -8 -7 -8 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 +4 +5 +6 +7 +8 +9 +10

Attention Whore

Attention Whore

So I've never really spoken about relationshits before, in my last blog.

I mean, there was that one angry post about that one guy that one time a long, long time ago.

And then a bunch of vague posts (much like the previous sentence) that you could really only understand if you were me, and knew exactly what had happened (Like that one time, at that one place, with that one person, involving hair pulling, and learning about some fucking disturbing fetishes that I didn't think existed outside of the internet. *cringe*). Because I always used to feel that that shit was private. And that one thousand people snickering at this little girl thinking she knew anything about anything like that wasn't really on my agenda.

Because I didn't (don't) know anything. That's the point. I have to describe how it feels anyway.

But mainly it was because the only chances I had to talk about those things were after they found me. And all freedom of speech went *poof*.

---

And I've been wrestling with the thought of making this blog searchable or not.

I always felt like people who wrote in blogs were just glorified attention whores who used words instead of cameras. (Right up there with people who try to commit suicide but just fall just a little bit short.)

And they sort of are. But in that regard, we all are. We just want someone to see what we have to say, and agree. We crave it. (Or at least I do. Or maybe I just want some assurance that I'm not as crazy as I think. Or that I want someone[1] to read this and understand, or think that maybe I'm not completely worthless.)

And so it becomes a debate of whether or not I think it's worth it.

I can risk being found again. Although, I think it might be hard if I stay as Pseudo Odeki does.

And I have to think about target audience. (You know, the one that no longer exists.)

And I have to consider that likely the first people to see this are probably a bunch of oldfags from a certain chemotherapy center who are just too fucking curious for their own goddamn good. (*ahem* Yes, I know you're reading this. *intent stare*)

And with that, it also becomes a question of...why the fuck did I use my new penname on a goddamn *chan site? And why the fuck haven't I come up with a new one?

---

But I digress.

I never really spoke about relationshits. I didn't think about them, even when I was in them, probably because I'm a failure at human interaction, and didn't want to put a label on anything. I think I was sort of scared that if I admitted what I was feeling, it would go away. And I was sort of right.

And I have a lot of bias about how much I hate how people talk about relationshits, and how fickle human emotion is. (Mine, at least.)

(And how I seem to have that problem with frequently seeing people more as objects of study than actual people.)

But I want to talk about this relationship. (If it even could be considered as such.)

Because I'm actually sort hopeful for this one.

And fuck, I actually feel like a teenager.

And because I actually have no idea what to say about it. Which is a first, outside of beta thoughts.

So what do I say?

How do I talk about something that I don't know how to talk about?

Eh. I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually.

---

[1] Yes, that is referring to someone in particular.

-10 -9 -8 -7 -8 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 +4 +5 +6 +7 +8 +9 +10

Attempt 2.0.

Attempt 2.0.

Haven't actually blogged for a while, now.

I've actually tried keeping a journal again, but I'm shit at keeping journals.

You know what the sad thing is? I explained all of this in my last blog. And I keep thinking to myself, "Stop being repetitive."

But I'm not. Because no one knows me. I don't have a thousand readers a week anymore. My Dad isn't breathing down my neck, and I can actually talk about whatever the fuck I want, without giving the old man a heart attack.

'Bout fucking time.

First, I would like to start by denouncing him as my father. Blood isn't as thick as you would think, eh?

I wonder if he has any clue what his psychopath wife sent us in the mail?

But that doesn't matter, I guess.

I feel like a little kid again. There's that little feeling I get when I realize that something needs to be written down. It twists and it turns, and it feels good when it transitions through my arms and to my fingertips and into text. And if I miss it the first time around, then I try again.

I should warn you, my last blog had about 800 posts.

I guess I should start by explaining "beta thoughts".

I tend to stop thinking when I get lost in thought. But it isn't really that I stop thinking, it's more that my thoughts sink into a deeper level. My thoughts stop being lucid words and become emotions and passing whispers of notions that I don't really think about at all. I understand them all at once, and I don't have to think about them to process them. I'm not just thinking; I'm on the same level as my thoughts. Sometimes I call it Brainguage. (Brain Language) because I have no idea what to call it. It's sort of like sleeping.

Sometimes I try to blog in that state, but that's proven pretty difficult. Have you ever tried translating an emotion into English? No, usually the revelations I arrive at come after I return to my normal state.

I call those revelations beta thoughts.

---

Fell asleep in class today. Had a dream that one of my bettas died.

Just finished giving him the 'ole burial at sea. :(

---

Despite my fishy failure, I'm in a pretty good mood. Or at least, I am now. Earlier I was -2 (On a scale of -10 to +10.) and now I'm at +5.

I met this Deaf woman and she made my week.

Pardon if I make a holy load of typos. It's colder than hell right now, and my hands are shaking like someone that ODed on Spike.

This is my second semester taking ASL after failing Spanish and French, and I'm glad I finally found a language that I'm actually good at. We went out to eat at this local restaurant and there's a Deaf woman working there. I didn't know it, though. Someone asked me what my name was and I signed and said "My name is--" and someone responded in ASL "Oh, you know sign?"

"I'm learning."

"Oh! Where are you learning from? Is your teacher Deaf?"

And so on. I didn't think I'd ever get a name sign, since I've never met any deaf people before, but she gave me one.

It's the sign for "music" but with a "v" instead of an open palm. And I'm so excited for it. I feel like a child, sort of.

---

(*I realize this entry seems a little bi-polar. I wrote half of it when I was -2, and the other half when I was +5.)