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Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
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There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| So I'm currently hopped up on Benadryl and trying to write out the questions for Anthro 490. I had intended to write the section paper today as well, but the sneezing and watery eyes made even reading for that very hard, so I turned to the least "lesser" of evils (by which I mean the most evil thing that is supposed to be not-so-evil) and took a pill. Now I have napped for over three hours, and am still about to face-plant onto my keyboard. The questions will get done, but the four-pager will have to wait until Thursday. I'm sure Seligmann won't be too angry; she is very nice and understanding. Um, I'm tired, so I'm going to wrap this up now by saying that I got drunk Saturday night, but woke up with NO hangover. I am awesome. |
| Okay, it's been a long time. So I did Amber a huge favor and submitted to Volition (the GMU undergraduate literary magazine for those who haven't read the previous posts) so that she would not have only horrible writings from which to choose, though I would argue that mine are not much better than "horrible." I even managed to write a brand new poem! Well, semi-new. It was one of the bits and pieces in my "Unfinished" folder, but I only had one-eighth of the finished product written before I started work on it anew. Selection was tonight, and Amber has told me that In Adversity will surely make it in, and Overlooked has a good chance as well. I kind of wish Desolate had been chosen, since I think that's more representative of my kind of work, but oh well. She said it was a tough choice, so I should just be happy that it was about on the same level as the others. But yay, I'm going to be in Volition! |
| Amber has been really nagging about the whole Volition thing. Apparently, since she gets so many terrible submissions, she wants me to submit something so that she will have something decent to read for once. The only problem is, I feel like everything in my portfolio is awful. Even that "Chained" poem that I was so proud of. No, especially the Chained poem. GOD, it's terrible. It's a long set-up for the second-to-last stanza, which I do still like, though I am questioning some of my word choices. Why does all my work suck so much now? I was happy, or at least content, with much of it when I turned it in for class, and then when I posted in on here. Now, I can't stand the sight of it. Ugh. I don't even know what makes a poem "good." I like Wordsworth with his daffodils, I like Poe with his raven, and I like that one poem that's all psychadelic about the city. What was that? Howl or something? I have part of it in a book somewhere. It's freaking awesome. But apart from the ones that I can enjoy, I don't know when a poem is actually good. It seems like there's a lot of random stuff out there that is considered genius, and plenty of shit I cannot for the love of my life understand. This is also considered genius. If I knew why these works were seen as so good, so remarkable, then perhaps I could determine for myself whether my work has any actual merit. Right now, though, I'm not liking a bit of it. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Trying to FINALLY write "The PC Project" but I'm not making good progress. In fact, I have one sentence so far. It takes up three lines, but that's normal for me. I suck ass. My failure as a writer is upon meeeee! Seriously, though, I need to find a way to get back with motivation. I just don't care about anything, and it's a really big problem. I'm not sure I'll even show up to the sign-up tomorrow. I'm planning on going, but I have a feeling that noon will roll around and I'll just say, "No, I don't want to get out of bed right now. I don't see any reason why I should try to start working as an usher. I would much rather stay here with my face pressed so deep in this pillow that my eyes look half their natural size by the time I finally pull myself off the mattress to get something to eat. Besides, I haven't dreamed enough for one night. Screw work." I mean, I will try to get my ass to the hall so I can sign up. I just feel like I'm going to have to fight that battle in the morning >.< |
| There are just some nights when I absolutely should not be alone. Like last night, when my computer decided to cease working because of malware that three scans could not seem to remove (but the system restore worked, what the hell?), I pretty much broke down. Everything was fifty times worse than it should have been. Bradley was his usual enthusiastic self on Facebook to another person, and I wanted to die because he hasn't been like that toward me in forever. Nor has he tried to arrange time in which hang out with me. So, that was crushing. Things kept getting worse, and I ended up looking for suicidal support web sites. Most of them are terrible, by the way. The "Read This First!" one is pretty novel in its format, but once you read that, none of the other sites are of any use. This one site, Suicidal.com, was just stupid. The bitch (it must be woman behind it, or a gay man trying too hard to act like a woman) writes so damn simplistically that I may as well be reading a religious pamphlet telling me that Jesus loves me. Too much use of bullet points where full sentences and descriptive paragraphs would be much more effective, a weird "table" set up instead of a list in the "Symptoms" FAQ, generic answers that are more annoying in there generality than convincing or comforting, and god damn it, there is no reason to keep changing font colors with every new chunk of text. This woman doesn't seem to realize something about serious subjects When people are truly in need of serious help and advice, they want to see a web site that looks serious and professional. Not that this isn't pretty to look at. I admit my eyes would have enjoyed it if I were in a better mood. However, this is not the My Little Pony fan page, and you are not catering to the interests of cheerful, frivolous little girls. Seriously, this looks fucking idiotic. It's one thing if you want to use pretty colors for your pages, we won't hold that against you. But to keep changing color With every Single New Line Of Text gets really fucking old and makes us want to close your web page in disgust of your delusions of spectrum! So yeah, after giving up on this sorry excuse for a serious discussion of help for the suicidal, I spent the next few hours trekking over the Internet trying to find something better. There isn't a heck of a lot that says anything different, or new, or even fucking helpful. I even find survivor's stories annoying, like those religious "comic books" I got when I was still attending the Fairfax Baptist Temple (hey Kieffer family, look at me now! I'm a witch! And I love Iron Maiden!): "I've been in the exact same position you are now in, but I got help and got better, and now I love life, and you should too because it worked for me!" Yeah, just replace "medication" or "counseling" or "electroshock therapy" with "Jesus" and "the Light of the Lord" and it's the same damn story about the shoplifting kid or the homeless man or the unhappy housewife. Maybe it just sounds idiotic to me because I'm bitter and in pain and desirous of death. At any rate, I found something far more convincing in the lines of suicide prevention: actual accounts from suicidals about how fucking painful is it to slit one's wrists. I mean, damn! I knew that blood loss can make one feel sick and dizzy, but I didn't expect it to cause overwhelming agony throughout the entire body. I shouldn't be surprised, but hearing about it is definitely a better deterrent than just being told, "Oh no, don't do it, think of all you have to live for!" Yeah, that's not going to do it. It's better to say, "This is going to hurt like you won't fucking believe, take a hell of a lot longer than you expect, and chances are damn good that you're going to live through the experience because it's almost impossible to sever a major artery irreparably without cutting through the bone, but if you're tough enough for that, here's a little hand saw that you won't even be able to hold because you will likely cut the tendons leaving your hands permanently useless. Have fun!" That'll scare the bitches off . . . I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Today's blog title is "Fire." I haven't the faintest idea why, but it popped into my head when I opened this page so I may as well accept it as a sign from the gods, for better or worse, and utilize it. Today is the dreaded Valentine's Day, when single people like me are supposed to bitch about how much love is thrust in our faces like a frat boy's crotch at a tailgate party, mocking us in our loneliness and telling us that we are inadequate just because we don't have partners. A time when women, also like me, complain that the fourteenth of February skews reality and causes men to act like decent human beings who buy us gifts and woo us with romantic dinners and poetry, but who instantly revert to their usual self-centered, anti-romantic selves on the stroke of midnight, or simply when they fuck themselves out, whichever comes first. And, it is also a time when people on diets, which I can kind of say of myself, bitch about how chocolates are virtually rammed down our throats every time we head to the Giant, Bloom, or Wegman's to pick up some Healthy Choice dinners, weakening our resolve and causing us to overeat because we've been celibate too long and cannot help but go mad when we see those pretty red boxes. Valentine's Day is one hated holiday! But, why? Why do we hate it so much? I have to ask this of myself, because I have long despised this day, and have been part of the Black Monday-Tuesday-wheneverday movement at schools in which we all wear black to show our disdain of a holiday that causes people to quite literally get off on the fact that they have love partners, and a hell of a lot of us do not. But, this mindset came from a deeply embittered soul who just followed the trend of hating everything "mainstream" if all the other kids did so. I'm rather less of a "hater" than I once was, so my hatred of this day is very much diminished. I'm still not thrilled to have constant reminders of my singlehood, but oh well. I get those anyway from some of my best friends. So! Let's look at this hatred of Valentine's Day! Complaint 1) Valentine's Day makes single people feel like shit by throwing around imagery of romantic love and sex covered in chocolate and tied in a big red bow. You know, I can't see why this would piss people off. We have love taking place right before our eyes on a daily basis: people holding hands as they walk down the street, people making out in public, jewelry commercials, hair transplant infomercials, movies, TV, and so on and so forth. I mean, relationships are everywhere; they don't spend the whole year in hiding and then come out of the woodwork for twenty-four hours in February! We have entire shows that focus on nothing but relationships and sex. Most sitcoms feature protagonists who are just trying to get a date, or who are in rocky relationships. Fuck! How many of the people bitching about Valentine's Day watch Sex and the City? Don't pretend that Valentine's Day actually makes you more upset about being single than pop culture. If it does, then one of two things are going on: either you just want to bitch about something because you're embittered about your life in general, and this is a good outlet because you enjoy watching shows like Sex and the City and don't really want them taken off the air, OR you're just an idiot who cannot see the direct parallels between these twenty-four hours and the rest of life in the U.S. Complaint 2) On Valentine's Day, all the guys buy gifts and do nice things just do that we will fuck them. Um, don't they do that anyway when they take us out to dinner? There is a strong expectation on the part of many men that, if they do kind things for ladies such as feed them and hold open doors for them, that the womenfolk will return the favor in the form of sexual favors. Not every guy who does this expects it on the first date, but they expect it, and do not think that they don't. Guys want sex, plain and simple. It's part of being human, and though we don't put out as quickly as most guys, women want sex as well (just so you don't think I'm picking on the guys here). The only change that Valentine's Day brings to the table is more pretty red things and heart-shaped items that women consider "sweet" and "touching". It's just easier for men to charm the ladies when they have a convenient array of woman-approved gifts that they can simply grab rather than wander the aisles of department stores wondering what type of perfume would appeal to the lady in question. It's gift-giving made easy, and it makes both parties feel good. Now, it's entirely true that some men randomly show up with roses and candy and expect to get laid, without any pretense of an actual loving relationship, but . . . so what? These are the same guys who are just going to be hitting on you anyway: the ones who think they are irresistible and can have their choice of all the women in the world and unfortunately chose you. These men are pricks, and you should know that by the time they ring your doorbell with a Whitman's sampler. If you're dumb enough to fall for their act and sleep with them after so little encouragement, then you fucking deserve to feel like crap when he stops caring on the fifteenth. Complaint 3) The overwhelming display and advertisement of chocolate is difficult for dieters and causes many of them to falter. Oh what, are you also going to petition the local supermarket to remove the chip aisle and put all the snack foods behind the counter? People on diets are faced with temptation every day: the bread aisle might also house the Little Debbie snacks; the Special K is alongside Fruity Pebbles and Cinnamon Toast Crunch; there's candy bars in all checkout lanes except one. What about the color red and the shape of heart make Valentine's Day candies any more desirable than a chocolate cake you pass in the supermarket bakery on your way to get some garlic bread? I'm sorry, but you can't blame a holiday for making you slip up on your diet if you're already surrounded with the exact same type of temptation every day of your life. Just because Twix doesn't come in a pretty red box, it doesn't make it any less delicious, and you know it. Besides, take some advice from the Buddha: if your diet is so strict that the foods you cannot eat are virtually controlling your life, then you need to find a better diet. It's called balance, people: stop abstaining from chocolate, allow yourself a treat every once in a while, and you won't go completely insane and overeat the next time you're faced with candies. Okay, so these are just my personal opinions on a few of the complaints I've heard about this most dreaded of holidays. Me? I'm over my hatred. I can understand that it would hurt people who have just broken up, or in the case of my friend, people separated due to work, but really, this is just a holiday that celebrates love and sex. Sex is awesome, ask any person who has had it (that's what I have to do because I'm still a virgin *weep*). Love is even better if you can get it for a while, so why not celebrate? It's an excuse to give gifts, and receive them. If your gifts are physically pleasurable such as chocolate (or sex), then that's great. Single people may feel left out, but they are going to feel left out anyway when they see couples relaxing in parks, or watch their friends snuggle up. I know: I'm one of those single people, but that doesn't mean I should ruin it for the people who aren't thus. Picking on Valentine's Day isn't going to stop people from having sex and making out in front of us, so we should stop bitching and learn to accept living in a country in which seventy-five percent of the commercials feature couples doing what couples do. Besides, who needs the fourteenth of February? The fifteenth is All Candy is Fifty Percent or More Off Day. |
| So here I sit, after an entire week off from classes, which for me is simply three days, and I've gotten no work done. Zero. No pages read. No questions written. I wrote two paragraphs (one is incomplete) of a new story about which I know nothing. That's about it. I've just been wasting time. And now, I'm too drowsy (after twelve hours of rest) to pay attention to the open window on Blackboard. Sorry, Sally Falk Moore, I'm just too disinterested to care about your paper. Well, no more! I have made a cup of hot chocolate, and I shall drink it and feel invigorated! I think I feel more alert and awake already. Hooray for Swiss Miss! Hmm, I wonder if activists will try to change that name, since it singles out an ethnic group? Oh well. I don't care as long as they keep making excellent cocoa mix. Now I shall try to work! |
| I looked in the mirror and realized just how far my hairline has receeded on the left side. I now have one side thinner than the other, and the scalp is very visible. What worries me is how sudden this is; I've been looking in the mirror several times a day this whole time, and all of a sudden I've lost enough hair to make a significant change in my appearance. Did all this hair fall out tonight? Please, please, I'm praying, PLEASE be the medication. Please just let this be the Levora fucking with my hormones. It fits the time period of the loss, so it's a good candidate, but the doctor's office says that hair loss is not a side effect. But what about all these websites that say that it CAN be a side effect? If I'm sensitive to hormones, this could be enough to push me over the edge. But then, why would I have a sudden extra loss in hair while going OFF the pills? Are my hormones just going haywire when faced with any and all stimulation? I just want my hair back . . . |
| Wow, I hadn't really thought about how long it hadbeen since I've been active on this site. I'd drop by every now and then to see if I had gotten any reviews or anything, and never really thought about just how many of those "REMINDER: Update Your Blog" emails I was deleting on every visit. But this, this really shows just how much I've been missing: They've got a freaking COUNTER for characters used in titles AND descriptions. Hell, it's about time! Thank you, admins. This is a very helpful feature. But, it HAS been a very long time, I cannot deny that. I haven't been in chat in ages (though all the stupid teenagers and angry people who were in there last time have probably contributed to my reluctance to get involved again), and the little Scientology rant was the first thing I'd written for fun since, lord, two semesters ago? It's been WAY too long, and I'd like to rectify that by trying to be a bit more creative from now on and not spending so much time relaxing by playing computer games. I mean, they still kick ass, but I need to get actual work done. It's just not easy to WANT to write after you've spent so much time and effort writing stuff for class. By the end of the semester, writing any kind of paragraph for any reason is the absolute last thing I want to do. I don't even read much anymore, for that exact reason. My brain is just tired. But, I've got some new ideas, and I'm going to try to implement them. I'm also going to see about getting more involved on the site, now that I have slightly less school work getting in my way. I shall try! I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Just a quickie update for any of my "fans" out there. This semester has been really rough and time-consuming, but fortunately it is almost over . . . just as soon as I put in MORE work and time finishing essays and taking exams. Don't worry, I will return someday to bring joy to you all once more! |
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