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.

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?

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!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.