Various Sighs and Spiraling Eyes - Informed Judgement Deficiency

Informed Judgement Deficiency

Jun 17th, 2009 2:50:50 pm - Subscribe
Mood: Toxic

It kills me to see it happen to others. Poor, confused teenage girls, so upset with their lives that they're willing to run into the arms of anyone who will say the right things. Anyone who can make them feel free and loved. It doesn't take much when you're desperate. All it takes is a few comforting words, a compliment and a promise.

Repeat.

Every day feels like the end of the world when you're fifteen. Maybe that goes away with age because we're older and we're used to the pain, or perhaps it really was that bad back then and we just don't remember.

We're all too old to embrace our pain. We push it aside because that's what adults do. We can no longer punch mirrors because we know it will just leave wounds that are difficult to explain at work. We can't scream because it will wake the neighbors and they might call the cops. We don't cry because it will just wear us out and there are more important things that need to be done.

We no longer run to someone older who will make empty promises and say the sweet nothings to make us feel better.

We know better.

We learn to manage without, wishing, but knowing it will only hurt more when they let us down.

New Mother

Jun 9th, 2009 2:57:48 pm - Subscribe
Mood: quiet

So sorry to scare you, Shan.

I tried to suck Xu's tail up with the vacuum. He did not approve.
Bar fight?
Ha! This is why I don't shave.

I was violated, Shannon. This is what I do when I remember; when I'm sober. This is what happens when I remember the way they touched me. Sometimes I can make it go away but when I can't...

I wrecked my bike.
I have three brothers, what do you expect?
I climbed through barbed wire.
Fell down a hill when I was playing with my friends.
I don't know where I got that one.
...

Curtains of Hair

Jun 7th, 2009 7:48:30 pm - Subscribe

So giving up has become a daily occurrence for me. No one should ever take me seriously. And if they do, I shouldn't take them seriously.

I want to start going to confession. I want to travel around the state to different Catholic churches, confessing all the things I have done. I want to tell each priest that I masturbated in the last confessional while listening to the nice man speak to me.

I want to discuss all the dirty things I have done and that have been done to me. I want to go into graphic detail about each sexual encounter. I want do describe my favorite positions and how each one brings me closer to God.

I want to actually masturbate in the confessional. I want to describe how wonderful it feels and I want him to join me. I want to hear him moaning in the booth next to me as I tell him all the different ways I like to touch myself.

It's difficult to write about something you've never experienced.

I will never have the courage to allow myself the ability to write about it.

Epidermis

Jun 5th, 2009 3:31:18 pm - Subscribe
Mood: abandoned

One more night Jeremy talked me into sleep. I woke with minimal nightmares. Perhaps this will not be as challenging as I had anticipated. Perhaps I really can do better.

Better=alone.

I decided I don't even need Emporia. As long as we end it now there will be no need for such events. I see now that he is no longer willing to take that extra step for me, he never was serious about marrying me. Why should I care what he does with his life or his child? It is he who shut me out. He is no longer a part of my life. He is only a blip in this unusual life of mine. He is only another boy who forced me out of my numb state, tortured me while I was vulnerable, then turned me down when I offered to stick around.

He is no better than Josh Neusome. I have been raped and rejected once again.

But I can handle it this time. I won't cry this time. I know now that it's not my fault. I did everything I could. He's the one under the delusion that I could never possibly love a child that is not mine. Or perhaps that I shouldn't love a child that isn't mine. That stepparents are accurately portrayed in fairy tales. Evil monsters who only want title and fortune. It his he who believes the mother and the father should put their happiness on hold as they fight in front of their child because it's better for the kid than being separated. That he doesn't deserve me because he screwed up and I don't deserve him because I'm not willing to let him move in with another girl. That I don't deserve to help the love of my life take care of his child because it didn't fall out of my vagina.

Ev, it's so much more complicated than that.

I know dear, you slept with someone who doesn't want you to be with me and if you're not strong enough to stand up for the me then you probably don't love me as much as you say you do.

I don't need to move. It's all perfectly clear. He is just another person in this town who doesn't love me. It's just going to take a while to stop loving him.

Pretend

Jun 4th, 2009 10:35:52 pm - Subscribe
Mood: alone

I had an easy day at work. This little boy with a mohawk approached me. He was so excited when I said "Hi" to him. Every time I walked out to my cart he would yell some sort of greeting to me. His father sat in front of the room, smoking, watching his children play. Eventually the boy came upstairs and asked me my name. He waited outside the room and smiled each time he saw me. I let him sit in the room and tell me about his trip. He would run down to tell his father and brother about how great I am.

I walked downstairs for my break and the boy stopped me and asked if I would be his girlfriend. I sat down by him, lit a cigarette and told him I would love to as long as he promised to never hurt me. This did not seem like a difficult task to him. He took my hand in his and told me how pretty I was.

After I completed my rooms he followed me back to the cart room and asked me if I was leaving. I told him I was. He seemed disappointed when I told him that to be a good boyfriend he had to let me go.

"I don't want you to go. You don't have to be my girlfriend anymore, that was just pretend. I want you to be my dad's girlfriend. He's too old to pretend."

When I finished stocking my cart I walked toward the main building past the man with the cigarette, my pretend boyfriend following. He crawled onto his father's lap and said "That girl you like has to go home now, maybe we'll see her tomorrow."

I drove home to my real boyfriend and crawled into bed with him in hopes that someday his child doesn't feel responsible for his loneliness.

Such a shame for us to give up like this. So sad that we've done all we're willing to do for each other. This is the one thing I truly regret failing.

How Long Again

May 31st, 2009 2:53:52 pm - Subscribe
Mood: violated

I spent most of my morning spinning in circles.

Last night was odd to say the least. The familiar feeling I got as he cautiously placed his hand on my lower back. Pretending I don't notice him staring at me, wanting me, as I gulp mind altering substances. Following him to the dark bedroom where I know he's going to attempt to pursue me. The awkward, drunken, pantomimed disinterest.

I can't decide if I really wanted it. I knew it wouldn't be worth it. I knew I'd have to run home drunk and probably crying. Knowing I screwed it all up once again.

I allowed him to kiss me several times, I felt obligated. For a moment I forgot where I was, who I was and who I was with. Am I really enjoying this or do I just feel like I have to be here?

I was honest. He took my drink and set it aside. We sat on the porch and talked about our feelings. I told him about the time frame between now and 6 years ago. I told him about my problems and how I was desperately trying to get better. He reassured me that we wouldn't go any farther than cuddling and perhaps a few kisses. I couldn't stop thinking about Chris.

What is he doing right now? Is he asleep? Why was he so anxious to get me out of the house? Is he with her right now? He's going to be so disappointed. I wish I was with him now.

I contemplated this cuddling. I tried to tell him I needed to leave, he grew progressively sadder as I tried to tell him I didn't want to remember him as a mistake. He took my hand and brushed my hair aside. I sighed, wanting the attention, wanting to leave. I thought about how Chris would react, why the hell should he care, he does this all the time. Crawling into bed with someone else, comforting them, making things temporarily easier. Why does he get to do it once a week but when the thought even crosses my mind I feel like I'm doing something wrong?

That's all I was doing. I wanted to make it easier. It would be easier to just stay, I won't have to feel bad about drinking their alcohol and cutting out early. Just stay. It will be more simple. Chris won't ask questions, just hold the poor kid. Give him one night in your arms, no one needs to know.

How many of my sexual encounters consisted of me taking the easy way out of a misunderstanding? Oh good I get a place to stay tonight, oh right, he just wants sex. Well, he did give me a ride...

He kissed me behind the ear as more tequila passed my lips. He placed his hand on my shoulder, moving downward, dragging his lips down my neck. I took off running when he bit down. I suppose that is where I draw the line. There is only one person who can do that to me and Nathan isn't that person.

Where the fuck am I, what was I doing, why did he, why did I, what was I thinking, what was I drinking?

I dreamed of lounging in lawn furniture, singing along with Carly Simon as Mrs. Gould painted the porch. We had just finished the song when my alarm went off. No nightmares tonight, only horrid memories of reality. The screams did not wake me this morning. The sound of my own moaning lulled me into sleep.

3431 allsoap bag blue
Rachel go back and reclean the bathroom in 21.
4221 cupcup bathmat
Rachel?
Sorry Marilyn, the ground won't stop moving.
Don't let it hit you on the head.

They don't pay me enough to work this hung over.

Giving Up or Changing for the Better

May 29th, 2009 9:00:14 pm - Subscribe
Mood: unfulfilled

You can do better.

Why do women always tell their girlfriend that the man they are with isn't worthy of their companionship? They always tell them they deserve more. That they shouldn't date anyone less than perfect.

Where is this mystery man? Where is the man of my dreams? Should I go to more bars? Where is this adorably geeky guy who loves me more than anything? Who craves any word that pops into my mind and trembles at the sight of my body?

He is in Ellsworth, crying because he entered my life when I was unwell. Because I screwed everything up with my confused selfishness.

I must forget all that.

I signed away all my rights when I asked him out. By agreeing to be his girlfriend, I agreed to all that follows:

Only seeing him when he has the time.
Allowing him to sleep in another girl's bed.
Pretending I'm fine so he can take care of other things without worrying about me.
Never revealing any trace of bitterness towards someone I'm intensely jealous of.
Stepping aside as he moves in with her.
Waiting patiently.
Allowing him to see his child with no hope of ever being part of his/her life.
Allowing his ex to say mean things to me without standing up for myself.
Allowing her to treat my boyfriend like shit as he does everything he can to work things out.
Comforting, yet fruitlessly unrealistic planning.
Living each day with him as if it is my last, as any talk of the future is too sensitive or perhaps hopeless.

I will never marry him. He only wants me here because I am the only one who is nice to him regardless of his actions. I am the only one who is dumb enough to stick around this long. Once the baby comes, I will no longer be of any assistance. I will only be a burden. He will spend all of his time with his child and I will have to wait for hours on the offchance that he'll sign on to messenger. He will tell me about how hard his day was, I will feel bad and wish that I could hold him and make everything better. I'll go to bed, several hours before I need to wake, and cry because my boyfriend is in another girl's bed, taking care of her child.

Eventually I'll come to my senses and move far away where I can take care of my sick brother, wishing I had done just that a long time ago.

My plans of a single life in Lawrence will finally be complete. I will finish my education and begin working my way out of college debt. Someone might come along and spark my interest but I won't plan on starting a relationship. A life of independence will be so much more fulfilling anyway.

Eargasm

May 23rd, 2009 3:02:45 pm - Subscribe
Mood: sour

Things have to change.

Again.

I didn't think it was a big deal. I still don't think it's a big deal but I can't let anything happen again. I have to make sure the illness doesn't get in the way of what I truly want. I've worked too hard to make this work. To make him happy. I can't do this to him. I can't allow anyone to worry. I play it off really well but then I slip up. I talk about what's really going on. I say stupid things when the oxygen escapes my brain. I say shallow things when the sickness progresses. This isn't who I want to be. I can't screw this up. He doesn't need this.

I'm torn. I can't have it both ways. I have to remember what is most important to me before I let this superficial mindset consume me once more. Before it destroys the person I've worked to become.

Moderation. Timing. Caution. Water.

I have to be more careful.

Dead Babies, Dead Boars

May 15th, 2009 2:59:33 pm - Subscribe

I keep having dreams where I'm given a body that I'm expected to dispose of.

This hour calls for several cigarettes I cannot allow myself. My fingers are bleeding, my teeth are shaking. I love my parents but I need my fix.

My camera is no where to be found. I have no idea how long I can pull this off.

These are the things I wish I could say out loud.

There is no one I can talk to. No one to help me anymore. My brother is upset with me for my revealing outburst. My parents are completely unaware of anything I wish to rant about. Jeremy is no longer in the picture. Chris simply does not have the time for my trifles.

I drove past his old house. Two new cars sat out front. He no longer waits for me when I come to town. He no longer knows when I'm near. I drove through this sleepy town, imagining myself on his moped. The wind blowing through the hair escaping my pink helmet. The people laughing because we were just that darling together.

The romance, the laughter, the joy has now slipped away. I'm left once again, completely alone. Another summer sits motionless in front of me.

Work. Work. Panic. Drink. Work.

School. My life has become so automated. I put coins in the slot and watch as the world drops fattening, unsatisfying, overpriced snacks at my feet.

I'm bored. I'm tried. I'm sick of this lifelessness that is my daily routine.

My idea of spontanaity is cleaning my house.

I am in desperate need of real human moments.

Paradoxically, I find myself preparing to hide again to avoid any further disappointment.

I guess I don't like him either.

May 12th, 2009 11:05:11 pm - Subscribe
Mood: Abused

I don't like the way he talks down to him. The things he's said before. The way he treats him. I don't like it that he makes him feel that way.

I don't think he's all that great to her. She enjoys it but she doesn't see that she is only an object. They might truly love each other but I see how she is being manipulated. I see it since it has happened to me before. Her kind nature, her desires, her need to please him all blind her as she allows him to walk all over her.

I am not attracted to him but he forced himself on me so that I could be with her. It was part of the unspoken compromise. I must sleep with him to please her. It wouldn't be fair to him to have to watch considering they are a couple. If she can kiss me then why couldn't he?

It was my first three-way. It happened when I believed sex was what made me happy. My memory of the event is less traumatic than what actually happened. I convince myself quite regularly that he did not violate me. It was all part of the deal. I had to give some to receive some. They provided the alcohol that made it easier for me to let him use my desire for her to overcome the fear I had of him.

My need for casual sex has been replaced with a need for respect and love. I still long to be desired but prefer not to be used in the process. I've left myself behind but I'm still haunted with memories of everyone who was like me, who used me. The people I've used who had no idea why I was so willing or how much it was destroying me. How much I'm still falling apart as a result.

I may never know what is right for me.

Waiting

May 7th, 2009 11:37:30 am - Subscribe
Mood: Let Down

Sitting on the roof of the shed,
swinging my feet,
sipping a juice box.

Hoping someone special notices.

Usually someone sees
but not the anticipated guest.
Ignore their laugh, searching.

No one else shows.

I hop down.
Discard the empty box.
Go inside and wait.

I tell stories of my encounter.

Asking for it

May 5th, 2009 12:01:43 pm - Subscribe
Mood: abandoned

On September eleventh, I was told that Kenny would be spending some time in the Middle East. Our country's military would be in an endless war and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried anyway. I prayed, and wished that there was some other way. I wrote letters to the president, pondered a time machine and even spent time attempting to convince my parents to move to Canada. I thought of everything possible to avoid this hardship. There was no way they were going to do this to me.

Kenny left that month despite my suggestions. Nothing was alright. In addition to the constant worry and what-ifs, my family was no longer there for me. Everyone went about their life and coped alone. I was left with no choice but to wallow in my tortured, childish thoughts.

For the first few months I kept thinking things would change. Our government had to know that this was completely fruitless. It was not worth loss. My problems were the only ones that mattered and President Bush needed to acknowledge that. I wrote another letter, explaining my situation. Explaining how much his decision hurt my family.

Time finally allowed me to accept it. Kenny would be gone for a long time; there was nothing I could do. The hope turned into worry. I constantly wondered what was going on over there. Our family would receive an email from him every few weeks with an amusing story or rant of hopelessness. My parents withheld the more depressing emails. They did not want me to know how much danger he was really in but I knew.

Eventually the worry transitioned into preparation. I came to the realization of how it would happen. Two soldiers would knock on our door with a flag, dog tags, and some medals. I always planned on being the one answering the door and my mother collapsing in the living room. I had to be the strong one. I could no longer reveal my fear or sadness. I had to be a stone for everyone. I pictured the funeral and the years of closure that followed. Kenny was no longer coming home.

Then he did. He came home after six long months. Everything went back to normal, my family was happy again. Until he received another call. The emails ceased as he spent a great deal of time in combat. I gave up hope again. I engaged in all sorts of behavioral experiments, leading to even more pain, confusion and fear. Still waiting for the news.

After three years Kenny was deactivated. His time overseas was completed. He now has the memories of his achievement to compare to all the difficulties life has to offer. I now get to look back at that and remember just how strong I can be.

Five to seven years later, I look back on how I handled everything and I cannot help but believe that I can do it all over again. I can do a much better job the second time around. I am a lot stronger than I let on. I have been through a lot. I can handle anything my loved ones put me through.

I have waited three years before.
I am older now and willing to wait even longer.

Freaky Color Quiz

Apr 30th, 2009 11:59:45 am - Subscribe
Mood: baffled

Evie took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!

""Wants to make a good impression on others and be ..."

Click here to read the rest of the results.

Cigarettes and Old Cassettes

Apr 23rd, 2009 12:03:03 am - Subscribe

My hair is dry again. Dreading itself as I am too sad to comb it. I see the symptoms. I do not care.

It will be worth it when I can look in the mirror again. When the three day mark sheads the water weight and vanity pounds rather than leaving a painful realization of my problem. Just once more, I would love to see my tiny frame in skintight tops, arching my back to show off the slightest pooch.

Pale, dazed, and beautiful.

The scale will offer comfort soon. The circles and imaginary spiders will be my only flaws. Dancing between the raindrops once again. Flying out the window when I feel trapped.

I can't maintain happiness for long so I might as well be thin.

This was not my initial objective.

This is me giving up again.

Prepaid Girlfriend

Apr 21st, 2009 11:18:51 am - Subscribe
Mood: cautious

What could you do to earn my trust? How could you possibly make up for what you did? I thought about it, now I know.

You could start by convincing me that you don't just want sex. That you want to see me grow. You have to buy me small things, and help me work on things that are due. Next you can let me move in with you and put my pieces back together. You can take away the bottle then go down on me for an hour as I shake from withdrawal. You have to take me out to eat and listen to me as I dramatically reenact my day. Then you have to impress me, you have to hook up my dvd player, fix my computer and download my favorite childhood games. I have to learn some things from you and you must learn from me. You have to overreact to every small thing I do for you even though I roll my eyes. If I surprise you, it's because I want you to compliment me. You have to be over-the-top sweet to me. The cheesier, the better. That is, after all, why I put up with you. You have to wait for me while I'm confused, because someday you're going to need me.

All the things you have done to convince me to fall for you, you must now practice tenfold since it was those things that kept me around so long. They are the reason I hurt now and the reason I could leave you.

Paradoxically, the reason I am still around is you. You have done so much. As long as you are still who you are, and as long as you still love me, you will be forgiven.

All I need from you is time.

Sickness

Apr 19th, 2009 2:17:34 pm - Subscribe
Mood: ill

I can't eat. I feel like I am losing all that she is gaining. The empty feeling is not limited to my physical being. I have never been so sad.

Three Days of Rain

Apr 18th, 2009 7:47:00 pm - Subscribe
Mood: enlightened

This happened for a reason. For me to take a different approach, not to move on and forget the situation. The decision made far too many times before. This is a chance to change my ways. Rather than see someone new, I must now become someone new. This is my final chance to be someone more than just a good time. To prove, to myself as well as those involved, that I am not just a quirky experiment. Remaining motionless is frightening and certainly not my first instinctual strategy. Packing up and moving on has been my method of choice since I was a child.

It has reached the time to become the adult. This is God/nature/life/Moon Goddess/karma's way of informing me that I am no longer the baby. She tried to warn me with the child of a sibling but I refused to acknowledge the lesson. New life surrounds me, reminding me of my increasing age. I fear the life of an infant due to the forced awareness that I will no longer be the one receiving all the attention. My fear of children originates from my fear that I am still a child, therefore I could never care for one.

My maternal instincts are detected by few and only observed in times of crisis when I am unable to think clearly. I rarely take care of anyone and usually expect the world to watch over me. Everyone I have ever known has sent someone to look after me as I curiously walk into the unknown.

This is me, placing myself in a situation where I will truly need independence. No one is here to take care of me. I have been preparing for this moment for months now without even realizing it. I have no one to take care of me. I have a strange feeling it will not be as scary as it sounds.

Extended Status

Apr 17th, 2009 8:43:49 pm - Subscribe
Mood: Scared

Rachel Everett shakes her head, rolls her eyes and reluctantly follows you into this mess asking only for understanding for her bitterness and appreaciation for any trace of kindness. She wonders if she is making the right decision and if you'll just do it again. She wonders what she means to you and feels she is sacrificing every ounce of self respect to persue this. She has never done this before, please be patient when she cries and becomes an increasingly jealous person. You have to earn her trust again. Please be patient with her remarks. Understand that she has never lowered herself to anyone but is doing just that for you. She is putting all her trust in you and allowing you the opportunity to hurt her once again. She is uneasy but she wants it to work. She does not want to be the bitter one but notices the excessive slip ups. She helplessly attempts to salvage what has been destroyed. Confused because for once, this is not her fault. She was caught in the crossfire of something she will never understand. She is lost and scared. Deep down she fears this will not work out but wants it more than anything. She has put all of her energy into not killing you and is quite exhausted. She loves you and has not the slightest clue how to express it. She thought accepting this betrayal was enough but you expect a bit more. She will try. She will do anything she can but please understand that all she can do is likely not enough. She is unaware of what you are going through and what the future holds. She is ill. She is tired. She wishes she could just say goodbye.

Okay, fine.

Apr 17th, 2009 12:05:53 am - Subscribe
Mood: okay

I'm okay.
Because I'm completely shitfaced, everything is okay.
I spent an hour crying so everything is okay. I'm fine.
The world continued turning everything is fine
You only owed an explanation, I am fine again.
My hands are numb with rum, I am fine again.
Goodbye to you, dear, I am fine again.

You lied to me, but I am fine again.
You were the reason I gave this up and the reason I turned to this again.

Dear, I am fine again.
Dear, I am me again.

Everything is okay now, that the alcohol is in my veins.
You asked me repeatedly to be yours and yours only.
This is the reason things are fine, the reason I am numb.
You told me, this is the end, the end of my battle; that pain is better than never feeling at all.
Really? Because I was sad and when I drank, I was fine. Everything was okay again.
The pain is there but dulled into a contentment I remember as "okay."
I screamed when you told me I was not the only one but I got better with each drop.
My eyelids burn, my throat stings with every sip, but nothing hurts like what you said.
I am fine again.
Give me one good reason not to drink, I dare you, Chris, I dare you, as you feel the same as I had before.

But everything is okay now. You did not hurt me so.
You told me before, that you loved me, that you wanted me as your own.
Did you, sir? Did you? When you made me put down my glass?
You have child now, but is it yours? I'm sure it is. All I have is alcohol.

You were my best friend, now I have no one. But everything is fine.
I have this drink, I have this numb. I have the tears but no memory of why.
The hiccups and the slurring add the humor to my numb.
It offers a smile where there was none before I had this pain.
Before I had the reason so everything is fine.

Everything is great, I hope that you feel the same.
Because, before this, I felt like screaming, I did, as I recall.
I screamed and cried like never before, you killed me with you blessing.
I empathize as I recall, an expensive termination you offered, but did not owe.

So everything is fine. As long as it is you and not myself.
You understand the damage you have caused.
I expect no apologies, so everything is fine.
As far as I am concerned you were never there.
You are just one, of many, I must put into my past.
I do this every day, I am used to this. I am okay again.
The numb is relief, I am okay again.

Did you fix me or did you break me?
Neither, I am the same again.
I have returned to me, the drunken me, the one that is okay.

I remember, though, it just had to be, the moment I decided to take that step.
That step, one closer step, to be with just the one.
It is okay though do not worry.
It is just that I remember, vaguely, letting down my guard, letting you move closer to me
Was it a sacrifice I made?
A boy I left?
I cannot remember so everything is okay.

But was it? Was it? I remember slightly, in my drunken stupor.
In my hormonal state, I remember, I left the one from the past.
I took one frightening step, one horrifying step closer, Chris, be my memory for me, please.
I left someone I love; I left him in my memory.
FOR YOU.
I REMEMBER NOW, IT WAS FOR YOU.
This is the reason I could not agree to be your one and only.
This is the reason, but I am okay now, the reason it took me so long.
The reason I hesitated. You were the reason I could not allow myself as yours.

But, dear, I forgot the pain.
I am fine.
I have the alcohol to hold me when I cry.
The alcohol will never leave me; it will never return to its prior love.
I loved you, Chris, but I am fine.
It is just that much more difficult to ever trust someone again.
I trust alcohol. I now love it more than you because it comforts me, it makes things fine.
It does not tell me it loves me, so it never has to lie.
It never asks me to be its girl, so it never leads me astray.

Fuck you, dear. I am fine again.
Fuck you and your psycho girlfriend. I hope that everything is fine.
I offer you my empathy but at least I offered an abortion to make everything okay.
I told you I would end it all and make everything okay.
Have fun with your family, excluding me.

I know that I will wait until the time is right for me, and everything will be fine.
When you are deep in debt and paying for your mistake, I will be okay, Chris, I will be just fine.

I'm not a feminist, I swear

Apr 11th, 2009 2:57:43 pm - Subscribe
Mood: PMSy

I used to have one of those trashy, convenience store key chains with a wise ass remark on it. It read: It's not PMS, it's you.

I know that my hormones have been disturbed by this monthly cycle but is it right to assume that the things I say during this portion of the month are not important?

PMS turns women into raging monsters. They are no longer to be trusted or allowed an opinion. It is best to ignore anything slipping from the mouth of a menstruating woman. Once women return to a more sensible state, a physician my permit them to speak again and to decide if any conflict is remotely relevant.

I constantly excuse myself for speaking harshly several days before my period. I also apologize for things I say during a bout of depression, mania, hysteria, apathy, etc.

I can't help but wonder if, perhaps, I'm only human.

We live in such a drugged up country. Everyone has a mental disorder these days. No one feels blue anymore, they are depressed. Kids don't have discipline problems, they have ADD. Always something just out of our control.

Women don't have bad days, they have PMS.

I love looking at old advertisements for vibrators from the 60s. They all mentioned "relieving hysteria," which poses the question; what is the definition of hysteria?

I know when I don't have sex or masturbate for a long time, the desire decreases. However, there tends to be strong correlation between crankiness and desire left unfulfilled. Does that make me hysterical or just sexually frustrated? It blows my mind to think men actually tried to market to women this way. Or perhaps they were marketing to the husbands who were, in turn, forcing their wives to believe that their behavior was unnatural and ill.

But if women masturbate now they are selfish and weird. If they want actually want sex for something other than a tool to get things, they're nymphomaniacs. If they want sex several times a day, they're not just unsatisfied, they're sex-crazed and should probably seek medical attention.

Medical attention doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Several days a month, I have twisting, stabbing pain in my abdomen. It feels like I have to poop but I usually don't. Any light with brightness greater than a match makes me feel like my throbbing head is going to explode. I can't lay on my stomach due to my aching breasts. Then they pretty much drag on the floor all day. My entire body aches, no position is comfortable. No pain reliever can even take the edge off. None of my jeans fit and I have no top to accent those ugly sweat pants at the bottom of my drawer. I feel ugly, I feel fat. I feel gross and dirty. Everything anyone says pisses me off but I say nothing at the risk of seeming bitter or cranky. The pain forces me to lose all desire to move but then I'm at the risk of appearing lazy and boring. I can shower over and over and never feel clean. Not to mention the fact that my vagina is oozing a thick, smelly substance that could potentially ruin my pants, day, and anything that I sit on.

Oh, I forgot you don't like hearing about those things. Imagine actually having it happen to you seven days a month until your body decides that at you're ancient age you've finally had enough.

"You've never gotten kicked in the balls."

You're absolutely correct. I have never been kicked in the balls. I will never understand the pain of being a man.

Theplaceswelive

Apr 1st, 2009 10:03:11 am - Subscribe
Mood: greedy

I discovered a website not too long ago that completely altered how I view my life and my state. I have always heard the cliches about starving kids in Africa and observed the commercials featuring the Ethiopian kid with the flies all over his face, forcing me to feel bad for a few minutes before Simpsons returned to make me feel better.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for great photography. After browsing the website for a few hours, observing the images of crowded homes, duct taped boxes housing several people, pots and pans hanging in alleys between appartments where several families reside in one room, I was humbled a little bit more, once again.

The website also features 360 photography of the homes, giving you a sense of being -rather than the zoo-like distance you feel from watching people starve on the TV.

After spending some time disrupting my naivity I went back about my perfect life, yet this time with a sense of modesty.

Not only have I made more of an attempt to not take my life for granted but I'm completely angered by people who do.

Immediately I began picking up on peoples' overreaction to minor conflicts. People become so angered by things that are in no one's control. Everyone expects the world to pick them up and nurse into a more cheerful state while they are faced with difficult times.

"My life sucks."

Oh really? And how am I supposed to change this? Is it really my problem? Is it really the government's problem? Who's fault is it that your life sucks? Because you were born into a country where, really, no one's life sucks.

As my mom always says: The worst ghetto in the United State is better than 90% of the world.

I'm sure she's off on her statistics but the idea is true. If you have a roof over your head, you are better than more than half of the world. It irks me greatly when my friends criticize Hays.

"Why would anyone want to live here?"

It's cheap, and it's not South America.

I'll get into why Hays is my choice of residence sometime later. I've been slacking in the blog department. Too much school and stuff.

But dude, I have a blog. I have a $1500 laptop to write my retarded troubled thoughts. I can afford to be angry and to allow the rest of the world to know how angry I am. And yet, I bitch.

It's too slow. The wireless isn't working. I left my charger at home so the screen is dark. I wish I had photoshop. Why didn't I just get a Mac. I spent way too much for this.

Right. I have a laptop, in addition to the roof over my head, and I still have problems.

My problems are petty. Your problems are petty. I don't want to hear about it.

I think with my new religion, I will opt out of complaining one day each week. That one day a week I will keep holy the day of silence. All my frustrations will have to wait to be released. No one will hear about my problems and I will hear of none from anyone else. I will be happy and grateful for what I have. I will not vocally address my hunger or annoyance.

This will not make a difference. It will be fun to try though.

Cheese Grater

Mar 31st, 2009 11:43:36 am - Subscribe
Mood: Insanly Annoyed

Are you ok?
Sure.
Why?
Oh, no answer? Busy, right.

Well let me just guess with this one. Could it be that I didn't cuddle with you enough this morning? I know, there must be something wrong with me. I must be coming down from a manic episode. I must be hormonal. It must be the crazies on their monthly vacation in my brain. Or the hysteria from built up sexual frustration. It couldn't possibly just be a slight annoyance with you.

Fucking men.

You do realize what you do to me, right? When you touch me, it rarely gets me off almost never wears me out. Instead, it makes me want more and more and more. So unless you're willing to fuck me, keep your hand out of my pants. You know it feels nice. It feels great. But it doesn't feel so great when I wake up three hours later and need to get ready for class.

As for this "don't touch me in the morning" thing that you have been bringing up every twenty minutes for the past two weeks, I fucking heard you the first time. I get it. The thing is, I have to get up early in the morning. It's not an option. I'm no more of a morning person than you are so excuse me for trying to make this painful proceedure semi-enjoyable for myself. If I don't get a shower or coffee with Shannon, it would really be nice to get a little affection from the person who talks me into staying the night, every night. The one who kept me up the night before and is the reason I'm so tired.

But I'll respect your wishes.

Just don't act so surprised when I do.

Various Sighs and Spiraling Eyes

Mar 24th, 2009 3:32:36 am - Subscribe
Mood: repulsed

"I didn't even go to work today, know why?"
Blank stare.
"I just wanted to get drunk. I'm really drunk right now, I just said fuck it."

I'm not even going to bother. I'll just let Shan deal with it.

My stomach has been killing me. My diet kind of sucks right now. I'm sad and sexcrazed. I sleep 6 hours every afternoon in addition to all the sleep I get at night. I feel pretty much worthless. I dropped a class halfway through the semester. I've been making cheesy playlists to cruise around to later. Lame and expensive therapy. I need gas. I don't have to eat for the rest of the month.

So much money owed.
I'm doing fine, I swear.

Get off of Chelsea's facebook. She's not coming home. No, she doesn't miss you.

Fallout Boy sucks. Why am I listening to this? Fuck. It makes me feel like rocking out. I used to do that in my empty dorm room. I must be hell to live with. I need a place by myself. Some rustic house in the middle of no where, surrounded by trees and animals.

A bridge piercing would be nice if I had some money or a roommate with a dire need to shove needles in me.

I should read Exodus or something.

Scattered Notes and Feelings

Mar 22nd, 2009 5:11:56 am - Subscribe
Mood: flabbergasted

My day was terrible.
I am sad.
I am stressed.
My life is a little out of control at the moment.
I wrote suicidal poetry on my leg during a panic attack at work.
This is lame.
This is not what I came here to talk about.

My roommate is incredibly trashy. I haven't quite figured her out. I really don't want to. I'm left with no choice. She fascinates me.

She works two jobs. She works five days a week in housekeeping and waiting tables. I estimate that she makes around $700 a month. Rent is 350. She is always three weeks late. This would make sense if she didn't get $300 in food stamps every month. I'm not sure where her money goes. I never ask because it's not my place. Plus I'm sure if I sit in the same room with her long enough she'll probably tell me.

She had a fancy new french manicure today.
She asked me if Walmart would cash her check tomorrow. I told her she could do it tonight but she was afraid she would spend the money on alcohol. Because it is so difficult to just leave a set amount at home or in her vehicle or even a separate section in her purse.

She decided tonight that she would drink away the pain of this ongoing "boyfriend" drama. She's been seeing this guy, Devin, for about two weeks now. They met at a bar and he constantly talks about guns. A few days ago he offered a girl a ride on his moped.

Kasey finds this distasteful.
Devin doesn't think he did anything wrong.
She is upset that he doesn't see anything wrong and insists he did something wrong.
He refuses to believe that he did anything wrong.

So why are they still screaming at each other on the phone every night? Why does she feel compelled to vomit every detail to anyone with the capability of hearing?

If someone upset me that badly, I would be so embarassed that I even associated with that person that I would simply stop talking to them and then it would be a funny story for later.

She's 32 years old. My landlord is younger than she is.

I will never understand the motives of the working poor. I feel the only way I could possibly understand her reasoning and poorly linked chain of thought is by traveling back to the age of 12 when everything could be solved by punching someone on the playground. When comments about another's appearance were actually used to "win" arguements.

Ah someday I will finish my post about social classes. Someday when I obtain a better understanding of the upper class as well as the working poor. I work with these people, and I now live with them. I'm so curious and so disgusted at the same time. I could study sociology for years and never fully understand how people can be so different, simply by difference in income.

John

Mar 10th, 2009 4:58:47 am - Subscribe
Mood: Angered

I work harder than you.
You're older. You know more.
I am so young.
But you're no different.

Yeah, I'll get off the damn computer.
As well as your damn lap.

It is easy to get distracted when you're waiting on help.
Even easier when your help wants to touch you all the time.

Maintain focus.
Don't get preoccupied as I divert you.

I am no worse than you.
However, you excel at hiding flaws.

I planned to allow your help.
You know how I love to have it announced.

Could you be a little more condescending?

I struggle with myself.
Unlike you, I need to know my place.
How could I possibly know what is right for me?
I don't even try.
Could you use some big words to throw me off?
You don't do it intentionally, you're naturally smarter.
I am just a little girl.

Perhaps you could read to me and emphasize my error with your red pen.

I am not your student. I am your classmate.

I don't have six years of schooling to show how much more I know.

Step down.

Join me down here.
In the depths of modesty where you belong.

Judge not...

Mar 2nd, 2009 11:55:07 pm - Subscribe
Mood: Annoyed

What's my deal? It's not like I'm taking a class or wasted a good portion of my life being Catholic.

I was searching Catholic Apocrypha out of boredom and stumbled upon a fantastic website by some idiot Christian extremist. I always enjoy reading anything with silly oldschool backgrounds and cheap blinky gif files.

I was reading this nauseatingly biased information about how Catholics aren't really Christians and how they found all this uninspired nonsense written by donkeys or something and vomited it into their bible.

Less colorful of course.

He/she/it gave reasons for why the apocrypha was not in the bible. Obviously it wasn't inspired nor does anyone really claim it to be but then it went on to say how it isn't in Hebrew and the Jews rejected it.

If I remember right, the Jews rejected another part of the Bible called the New Testament and I think a great deal of it was in Greek. How in the world did that get into the Bible, that doesn't belong there.

Ner. What do I know.

"Not even all Catholic 'Church Fathers' believed the Apocrypha was scripture."

If Catholicism isn't a credible religion, what makes Catholic Priests credible sources to what is true or not?

Reason number 7 the Apocrypha wasn't put into the Bible:

"It teaches immoral practices, such as lying, suicide, assasination and magical incantation."

(Assuming that word is supposed to be "assassination")

Because the Bible doesn't specifically tell you to stone your children when they misbehave. And people weren't constantly performing miracles or anything.

Damn Catholics and their witchcraft.

Hell is also real, apparently. There's a link at the bottom of the page that directs you to more fun information.

"Just because you've never seen hell doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

Just because the Bible was misinterpreted and there is no Greek or Hebrew translation for "fiery pit" doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

Excuse my double negatives.

"Out of the 120,000 people that die everyday, most end up in hell."

And you are able to determine this, how? Oh right, you are either God or know the guy on a personal level. I've never read that in the Bible but I also haven't yet read the whole thing nor have I interpreted it exactly how it was intended.

"The Bible says that nobody is good enough to get into heaven. Each one of us has broken God's commandments--not one person is excepted. You have personally lied and committed other sins.

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)

[L]et God be true, but every man a liar...( Romans 3:4)"

I'd prefer not to get into a red pen moment here with how the use of the word "excepted" sounds really bad here but I would like to take the opportunity to point out that they should have used a different word.

As for the substance of the statement. How would either of those quotes imply that no one gets into heaven? We have sinned, yes, we are imperfect beings. If God does indeed exist, He created us this way. The first quote could mean that we are not as great as God. It doesn't necessarily mean that we are not allowed into God's kingdom. The second quote only shows that the person's previous statement is untrue.

The website also states that people who simply lead a good life will not get into heaven. So if you accept Jesus as your personal savior, you're saved regardless of who you murder? What exactly are we striving for and whose sins are worse and why? They state that the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart. So if you obey that commandment alone, you will get into heaven? I suppose it's a good commandment and if you follow that the rest will fall into place. So why are the other commandments there if they are basically suggestions? If you follow those but not the first, you are screwed? Someone like myself with no temporal lobe or faith in humanity+ is screwed as well.

I love your God. You totally have my full attention now.

"We deserve the death penalty. This includes both physical death (the casket) and spiritual death (when the soul is separated from God and cast into hell)."

That’s why we die every time we lie, have an impure thought or question the above statement.

Unfortunately this website is full of dead links and clickables. You read something interesting and you want to know more but then when you click on “Ex Priests and Other Former Nuts” it directs you to a sad announcement that the page has been removed by the host. However, one of the working links gives advice onwhat to do when you give up hellivision:

"Read good books--particularly the olde things. The olde divines were deep thinkers. Drink from their wells."

Do you want me to take that literally? I will drink from the well of some old author and prey to God that I don't get shot.

It annoys me greatly when people use caps to emphasize a point.

"As I live, saith the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die... (Ezekiel 33:11)"

The Hebrew language doesn't have capitals and if they did I would hope they would have enough sense to know you don't have to capitalize everything of importance. Otherwise the entire inspired works would be capitalized, right?

"Did you know that if you do not belong to Jesus Christ you belong to Satan?"

No, please elaborate.

"You don't have to be a card carrying Satanist to serve Satan. You don't have to be a murderer, drunkard or drug addict, either. All you have to do is ignore Jesus Christ. If you don't have Jesus today, you are deceived and hell bound--you are a child of hell, a child of the devil."

I have difficulty responding to this without throwing fragile objects and swearing profusely.

Most Satanists are Atheists who view Satan as a symbolic figure of mankind. I hate the assumption that Satanism is all about worshiping some supernatural entity. I also hate it when people assume that all people who drink or do drugs are bad Christians or even bad people.

I don't even know what to say about the second part of that statement. Ignoring Jesus. Hmm. So were people just totally screwed before Jesus was born? I hate to think that people who are uninformed or "misinformed" about Jesus are completely doomed. Or that they are practicing Satanists.

I'm sure Jesus was a cool guy. Definitely someone we should all emulate. But it's really weird to think that people who don't accept Jesus as their personal savior are more doomed than the people who persecute them?

What exactly does it mean by not having Jesus? People throw that one around a lot but I don't think anyone truly thinks about what that could mean. To have Jesus.

I take that as, to possess Jesuslike characteristics. Awesome, accepting, generous, bitchin, somewhat rebellious of society's standards.

I have those. But do I have Jesus? I should ask this person; however, there is no contact information.

"Dear Reader, I am not online and therefore I do not check emails. May you find Christ and leave the internet and television alone."

Ok, I'll do that. In the meantime I'm going to continue quoting your website.

"Upside Down Cross - Symbolizes mockery and rejection of Jesus. Necklaces are worn by many satanist's. It can be seen on Rock singers and their album covers."

So Saint Peter must have been a rock singer or a Satanist. I remember something about him being crucified upside down since he didn't feel worthy of being killed the same way as Jesus. Seems like an innocent symbol. Notice I capitalize this word "Satanist" because it is, indeed, a proper name of a person belonging to the religion, whether you agree with it or not. Also, it doesn't need an apostrophe when made plural.

The page also features some inverted cross artwork and a really awful poem written by some troubled teen. Scary.

It then shows pictures of the Pope standing by an inverted cross. I know I like to make assumptions about the religious leaders based on things metal bands and teenagers write about.

I enjoy it that symbols are such a big deal. In another portion of the website Wiccans are compared to Satanists by showing how the pentagram is the same thing only flipped. They try to imply that Wiccans are Satanists simply because of that. So shouldn't that imply that Christians are Satanists because their symbol is the same only inverted?

On the note of Wicca and witchcraft

"The earthly father of all these stones was Adam. The lineage of Jesus Christ is traced back to Adam in Luke 3:23-38. Before Adam, there was no man...so...no, witchcraft is not older than worship of the true God. It came up in OPPOSITION to the worship of the true God."

So you can prove that Wicca did not exist before the Bible because the Bible says so. This is called circular reasoning and should be avoided, much like using all caps to empasize a point.

Back to Catholics

"The Great Whore, the Catholic Religion, is drunken with the blood of the saints. "

So Catholics dig saints. People martyred for their beliefs. Imagine emulating someone like that. Sheesh. Who would want to pay respect to those whores? Shortly after talking about how Catholics worship saints, it goes into a list of all the horrible things they did during the Inquisition. I've asked around. Most Catholics aren't proud of the Inquisition. That's why it's not going on anymore. I don't understand why that is on the same page as the saint criticism. Catholics recognize people who died for their beliefs, they also kill people for their beliefs. Ok. So they were wrong. They recognize this. I think the pope even apologized for it a few hundred years later. They don't do it anymore. They believe in a communion of martyrs. They must be the Antichrist?

Apparently the Inquisition is still in effect today. I stand corrected.

"A lot of Catholic priests don't even believe in God. The Catholic priesthood is a job."

A job that pays so well, might I add. I'm assuming religious leaders of other churches and groups don't get paid? Let's just throw in that Dennis Rader went to a Protestant church. Is this information significant? No Does it completely disprove Christian beliefs or the imporatance of Protestant Christianity? Not really.

"Hitler was Catholic"

Just like Denis Rader was a Protestant. How does this prove anything?

No one is safe.

"Evolutionists say that YOU used to be a fish. Do you really believe that? Sounds like a Brothers Grimm fairy tale to me. It takes more faith to believe an amoeba is my daddy than God created me. Where are all those elusive transitional forms like a lizard with feathers? There should be MILLIONS of them but NOT ONE IS FOUND."

Ugh. There's this thing called plate tectonics. It's really interesting. It's explains the idea that top layer of earth is a lot younger than the ones closer to the core. I would imagine you have to dig pretty deep to find where all the billion year old animal fossils reside. Also, the deeper you dig, things get kind of hot and have a tendency to melt, distroying billion year old fossils. Billion.

It then goes on and on about how there is no proof. There is pleanty of scientific evidence backing up the theory of evolution, that is why it is so widely accepted. Also, it it so hard to accept it as a theory? It should be taught in schools and if you're afraid your children will be corrupted by it you must have a pretty unstable set of beliefs.

I pretty much have to stop here and go do something worthwhile.

So basically to summarize the website:

Have Jesus.
Catholics are bad.
Know cursive by the age of five.
Women in the kitchen.
Hell is real.
TV is bad.
All religions are cults.
Popes are the Antichrist
Science is bad because it disproves your beliefs.
Abortion is bad and third trimester abortion is still legally practiced.
Be knowledgeable about the Bible and this website, but not anything else.

Like the Guy's Name

Mar 2nd, 2009 7:18:56 pm - Subscribe
Mood: overwhelmed

I feel the illness growing. This is why I quit facebook the first time. The people, the past, the obsession.

The people I know
with people I know
makes me slightly insane.

The idea of soothing nicotine makes me even more insane. I can barely breathe.

Spaghetti rings.

It's like living with my mother. Trying to force feed meats into my system. I just want ramen all the time. Forget your food stamps. I just bought eggs.

How can one teach a class by only asking questions? I understand the intention but it seems a bit lazy. She'll never engage me without being him. Without spacetime. I'll quit going to class if she asks me to read out loud.

Neutrons =/= Newtons

I would have made a similar mistake. I'm just glad it was you and not me. I get nervous too.

Nothing makes sense when it isn't measured in spacetime. Nothing makes sense if I don't plan on sleeping with the one who gives me the information. I cannot learn this way.

I can't adapt. The race must move on without me.

So much to do. Too scared to get out of bed.

I would advise against touching.

And yes, my PMS gets this bad.

Your turn for the unicorn.

How do I forget her?

Half Assed Life

Feb 27th, 2009 1:57:49 am - Subscribe
Mood: Lazy

I'm ok with mediocrity. I've always been a C student. Now I'm a C person. I noticed how little I do to get by. I don't worry about things anymore because nothing is the end of the world. I don't try because there aren't any visible consequences. I don't work for grades, relationships, money or even to better myself. I walk when I have to. Roll over when it will kill me not to.

I go about my life but rarely wake. I chuckle but do not laugh. I cry but do not sob. I smile but do not grin. I experience annoyance but never anger. I like but do not love.

I don't want to go above and beyond. I'm afraid of going out on a limb because I've fallen off the tree so many times. It seems silly to try again. I think I've learned my lesson.

Things don't seem worth it. They never really did. I only try when I'm manic, so when I fail it feels like my life is over.

I wish to sleep now.

Baggy

Feb 26th, 2009 4:10:09 am - Subscribe
Mood: undesirable

I don't want to be touched. I don't want to be held. Tickled? No. Watched? No. Wanted? As if.

This is my crash. This is my desire disappearing. This is no longer wishing at certain numbers and deteriorating constellations.

This is me purchasing five inch stillettos in order to feel sexy since nothing can seem to mask my hideous body so I can at least distract myself and others with such rediculousness.

I look like a fish. More like a whale.

I have the hiccups.

I forgot to be Atheist today.

Fucking Zoo.

Fucking Xu.

Fucking Ruckus

Feb 25th, 2009 3:17:43 am - Subscribe
Mood: Morose

It's no longer about me.
It's now something I owe.
I'm paying my debts.
I'm not having fun.
I'm afraid to let loose.
I'm afraid to have too much fun.
I can't allow myself the pleasure.
He is a person now, no longer a toy.
I can't use him.
I have to feel used.
I have to let him use me.
It wouldn't be right any other way.

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