I'm livid.
Rage is not even the right word. It's something worse than rage.
Luckily for the objects of my ire, they're safely tucked away an hour down the road. But I'm still within a hair's breadth of driving to Clay County and unleashing the wrath of God on these motherfuckers.
Ok, before I launch into this story, I should clarify some things. My grandmother has another daughter. Blood relation or not, this bitch is not my mama and my Aunt M.'s sister, and she DAMN sure ain't no aunt to me.
Yes. I speak redneck when I'm really angry. Fuck you if you don't like it.
This...individual...also has two daughters. These bitches might be my grandma's granddaughters, but they ain't Mother or Aunt M.'s nieces, and they DAMN sure are no cousins of mine (or of the cousin that I do semi-claim, T.).
These sonsofbitches might share the same DNA, but they're no motherfucking family of mine.
The reasons why are irrelevant. Suffice it to say, Ms. Bitch chose to break away from the rest of the clan after Granddaddy (my mama and Aunt M.'s daddy) died. I was about 11 when they decided they were too good for the rest of us.
They don't visit my grandma. They don't do a GODDAMN thing for her. All this time she's been sick at home with hospice coming, this bitch has shown up once. ONCE.
But...when they found out my grandma was in the hospital, this family of motherfucking hypocrites saw that it was their chance to put on a show and came to parade around the hospital and act like they were concerned.
Where the FUCK were you these last 15 years when my mama and my aunt were carting this hateful old bitch around left and right, using THEIR gas and THEIR vehicles, without even a thank you from that mean, self-centered old woman? Where were YOU when she was driving them batshit for no other reason than because the old fucking narcissist thinks it's funny to make everybody jump when she says jump? (Except for me, but that's another story entirely.) Where were you when my mama, only a month after she had knee surgery, was crawling on her HANDS AND KNEES to clean the fucking carpet in that old bitch's house where she had, literally, SHIT all over the house? Where the FUCK were you?
God forbid you have to get your motherfucking hands dirty, but you can show up and parade around and look like the good little pious family. But you ain't fooling me or anybody who matters. You got my family run out of the Baptist church the whole family used to attend, and you sit up front and smile, and your motherfucking husband is a deacon, and, oh, they think you're so fucking wonderful, but one day, you will ANSWER for all your bullshit and your hypocrisy to the One that you're fucking claiming to follow.
I wouldn't give a fuck one way or the other about you dumbfucks if it weren't for the fact that this whole mess is driving my mother crazy. And you can say I don't have a right to talk about you not doing anything because I haven't, either. And you're right. I haven't. I quit bothering for that old woman a long time ago. But you also don't see me down there, parading around like I've fucking done something, either. I'm NOT a goddamn hypocrite. The only way I'll be caught dead down there is if my mama says she needs me.
But somebody needs to put the fear of God into you motherfuckers, and I pray it'll be me one of these days. Keep on fucking around, and I WILL come.
Like Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp in Tombstone said: "You tell 'em I'm coming...and hell's coming with me!"
Of course, they're only doing it because they think the old lady's about to die, and they smell money. But the last laugh's on us. They were cut out of the will years ago, and, even so, there's very little money left anyway.
End of rant.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Most Scattered Blog Ever
I'm so behind, it's not even funny right now. So much to do. No time nor inclination to do it.
I'm not going home this weekend. I haven't made enough money, and, besides, my mama told me that she's going to be ridiculously busy with my grandma being in the hospital and all that. I have enough meds to make it until then, so I think I'll hang out here this weekend.
Speaking of my grandmother, apparently, she has an infectious form of colitis (she already has Crohn's--autoimmune diseases run down that side of the family like you wouldn't believe, which I'm sure is where the genes for my scleroderma came from) that people get from taking antibiotics recently. Something about the antibiotics killing off both the good and the bad bacteria in the colon, which creates a good environment for nasty shit to take hold or something.
Anyway, the doctor said that when old people get this, they usually die. So. Yeah.
Apparently, said doctor didn't realize she'd had diarrhea for upwards of two weeks (more like 3-4 at this point) because the dumbfucks at the hospice place didn't bother charting it. Or mentioning that my grandmother had had antibiotics some 6 weeks ago. So she's been carrying this bacteria that's often fatal to old people around for several weeks now, and these tards didn't even bother following up on it.
I told my mother she needs to take some kind of action toward them because of this. And she was like, "Well, it'd just be a long, drawn-out process that wouldn't be worth it."
Goddammit, it's not about suing someone for money. It's about not allowing incompetence and stupidity and laziness to go on. If they did that to my grandma, they'll do it to someone else. It's YOUR fucking responsibility as a human being to do something to prevent it. I'm not saying you have to go sue. I'm saying, at the very least, go talk to the supervisor of the joint and see if you can get the dumbasses fired. If the supervisor won't take action, go file formal complaints against the people's licensing board. This is NOT rocket science.
I know I sound like a vindictive bitch, and in some ways I am. But I also think that the human race, as a whole, is way too complacent and way too "well, I don't really care that much, and I don't want to have to lift a fucking finger over it" about things.
It's why I have ZERO sympathy for rape victims who say they're too "embarrassed" or too "scared" to report their assault to the police. Goddammit, it's not about YOU and YOUR FEELINGS of "embarrassment." It's about keeping that asshole from doing it to other women. Is YOUR embarrassment more important than preventing the same thing from happening to someone else? File the damn report. If the guy's not prosecuted, that's not your fault. You did what you could. At the very least, if another woman meets him and Googles his name, she'll see that he had the charges brought against him. So she knows what he is. That's all you can do, really, and you should do it.
I realize I'm crusading again. But, goddammit, if more people cared and more people quit acting like a bunch of selfish fucks and took it upon themselves to make the world a better place for their fellow man, this world might not fucking suck so much. But, no, people persist in being lazy fucks and refusing to lift a finger when they see someone else being treated badly because it doesn't concern them or because it's just fucking easier to do nothing. Better them than you, right?
And then, they have the nerve to call ME a bitch because I'm an idealistic person who still believes you should do your best to help other people because you would hope that someone would help you if you were in that boat. You know that post about my principles? This is one of them. Too bad no one else sees it that way. I just feel my social responsibility very heavily.
Anyway. I derailed myself.
I talked to the manager at work today, and she supposedly fixed some of the problems. We'll see. Like I said in my last post, they've got a month. Then, I'm washing my hands of the whole thing and pulling a Judas on them. I honestly don't give a fuck about that massive clusterfuck anymore.
As for the shit on the personal front...I have to get my work shit taken care of first. Hopefully, I'll get caught back up in the next day or two, and I'll work on composing the unwanted email over the weekend and will perhaps send it the first of next week.
I realize I'm dragging it out. But I've been going wide-ass open for weeks now, and I need to finish all these half-done projects before I burn out, which is coming soon.
On the dude front...I was right. This guy's an asshat. I couldn't decide if he was just annoying me last night because I didn't feel well. But I chugged some codeine today to get rid of my headache (woo!), and I was feeling better earlier. He was STILL getting on my nerves. Terribly unsurprising.
Unfortunately, if shit keeps going the way it's been going, I'll probably end up fucking him out of sheer boredom and the need to sublimate the pain inside, or at least make myself hurt for a different reason.
Yes, I realize exactly how fucked up that is.
Oh. A "good" thing, if you can call it that. I've had so much to do, I haven't even had a drink, despite all the hurt and confusion. It's not because I haven't wanted to, though.
The one bright spot in the day is that I fixed my laptop. Yep, you read that right. *I* fixed it. Because despite the fact that I'm sort of useless and ineffectual at most things, I can ghetto-rig shit like nobody's business. Hell, I've always had to. I've been poor my whole life--I and my family. We've never been able to either get things professionally fixed or toss broken shit and get new stuff. Hell, no.
Anyway, you wanna know what I did? LOL. It was redneck engineering at its finest.
Ok, before the whole thing crashed never to start again, it was acting like some of the keys on the keyboard on the laptop were stuck. Now, I don't use the built-in keyboard because I've worn out a lot of the keys. (I'm a writer, fuck you.) Anyway, it was acting like that. The keys didn't look stuck, but it was acting like it had in the past when that had happened.
So I decided today I'd see if I could do something to it, and if I couldn't, I'd turn it over to the tender mercies of the computer repair people.
So I thought about which keys were acting wonky. The F11 key because the browser would randomly full-screen, then un-full-screen, then full-screen again. The F12 key because the menu that pops up when you hit F12 was randomly popping up. The shift keys because it would select multiple things when I'd click with my mouse. The 6 key because it was randomly typing 6s before it died. (Which, by the way, will terrify a paranoid bitch right down to her grew-up-in-the-Baptist-church soul when she's trying to talk to her friends on Yahoo, and her computer is typing "666" over and over by itself!)
So my fat redneck ass grabbed up my laptop and a flathead screwdriver and carefully pried those keys up off the keyboard. Then, I fucked with sensors a little to see if I could "unstick" them, if they were in fact stuck. Then, I said a quick prayer to Jehovah and hit the power button.
Fucker started right up, LOL.
In "celebration" of the drinking I will probably soon be doing...or the fucking random dudes...or both....*Eyeroll*
I'm not going home this weekend. I haven't made enough money, and, besides, my mama told me that she's going to be ridiculously busy with my grandma being in the hospital and all that. I have enough meds to make it until then, so I think I'll hang out here this weekend.
Speaking of my grandmother, apparently, she has an infectious form of colitis (she already has Crohn's--autoimmune diseases run down that side of the family like you wouldn't believe, which I'm sure is where the genes for my scleroderma came from) that people get from taking antibiotics recently. Something about the antibiotics killing off both the good and the bad bacteria in the colon, which creates a good environment for nasty shit to take hold or something.
Anyway, the doctor said that when old people get this, they usually die. So. Yeah.
Apparently, said doctor didn't realize she'd had diarrhea for upwards of two weeks (more like 3-4 at this point) because the dumbfucks at the hospice place didn't bother charting it. Or mentioning that my grandmother had had antibiotics some 6 weeks ago. So she's been carrying this bacteria that's often fatal to old people around for several weeks now, and these tards didn't even bother following up on it.
I told my mother she needs to take some kind of action toward them because of this. And she was like, "Well, it'd just be a long, drawn-out process that wouldn't be worth it."
Goddammit, it's not about suing someone for money. It's about not allowing incompetence and stupidity and laziness to go on. If they did that to my grandma, they'll do it to someone else. It's YOUR fucking responsibility as a human being to do something to prevent it. I'm not saying you have to go sue. I'm saying, at the very least, go talk to the supervisor of the joint and see if you can get the dumbasses fired. If the supervisor won't take action, go file formal complaints against the people's licensing board. This is NOT rocket science.
I know I sound like a vindictive bitch, and in some ways I am. But I also think that the human race, as a whole, is way too complacent and way too "well, I don't really care that much, and I don't want to have to lift a fucking finger over it" about things.
It's why I have ZERO sympathy for rape victims who say they're too "embarrassed" or too "scared" to report their assault to the police. Goddammit, it's not about YOU and YOUR FEELINGS of "embarrassment." It's about keeping that asshole from doing it to other women. Is YOUR embarrassment more important than preventing the same thing from happening to someone else? File the damn report. If the guy's not prosecuted, that's not your fault. You did what you could. At the very least, if another woman meets him and Googles his name, she'll see that he had the charges brought against him. So she knows what he is. That's all you can do, really, and you should do it.
I realize I'm crusading again. But, goddammit, if more people cared and more people quit acting like a bunch of selfish fucks and took it upon themselves to make the world a better place for their fellow man, this world might not fucking suck so much. But, no, people persist in being lazy fucks and refusing to lift a finger when they see someone else being treated badly because it doesn't concern them or because it's just fucking easier to do nothing. Better them than you, right?
And then, they have the nerve to call ME a bitch because I'm an idealistic person who still believes you should do your best to help other people because you would hope that someone would help you if you were in that boat. You know that post about my principles? This is one of them. Too bad no one else sees it that way. I just feel my social responsibility very heavily.
Anyway. I derailed myself.
I talked to the manager at work today, and she supposedly fixed some of the problems. We'll see. Like I said in my last post, they've got a month. Then, I'm washing my hands of the whole thing and pulling a Judas on them. I honestly don't give a fuck about that massive clusterfuck anymore.
As for the shit on the personal front...I have to get my work shit taken care of first. Hopefully, I'll get caught back up in the next day or two, and I'll work on composing the unwanted email over the weekend and will perhaps send it the first of next week.
I realize I'm dragging it out. But I've been going wide-ass open for weeks now, and I need to finish all these half-done projects before I burn out, which is coming soon.
On the dude front...I was right. This guy's an asshat. I couldn't decide if he was just annoying me last night because I didn't feel well. But I chugged some codeine today to get rid of my headache (woo!), and I was feeling better earlier. He was STILL getting on my nerves. Terribly unsurprising.
Unfortunately, if shit keeps going the way it's been going, I'll probably end up fucking him out of sheer boredom and the need to sublimate the pain inside, or at least make myself hurt for a different reason.
Yes, I realize exactly how fucked up that is.
Oh. A "good" thing, if you can call it that. I've had so much to do, I haven't even had a drink, despite all the hurt and confusion. It's not because I haven't wanted to, though.
The one bright spot in the day is that I fixed my laptop. Yep, you read that right. *I* fixed it. Because despite the fact that I'm sort of useless and ineffectual at most things, I can ghetto-rig shit like nobody's business. Hell, I've always had to. I've been poor my whole life--I and my family. We've never been able to either get things professionally fixed or toss broken shit and get new stuff. Hell, no.
Anyway, you wanna know what I did? LOL. It was redneck engineering at its finest.
Ok, before the whole thing crashed never to start again, it was acting like some of the keys on the keyboard on the laptop were stuck. Now, I don't use the built-in keyboard because I've worn out a lot of the keys. (I'm a writer, fuck you.) Anyway, it was acting like that. The keys didn't look stuck, but it was acting like it had in the past when that had happened.
So I decided today I'd see if I could do something to it, and if I couldn't, I'd turn it over to the tender mercies of the computer repair people.
So I thought about which keys were acting wonky. The F11 key because the browser would randomly full-screen, then un-full-screen, then full-screen again. The F12 key because the menu that pops up when you hit F12 was randomly popping up. The shift keys because it would select multiple things when I'd click with my mouse. The 6 key because it was randomly typing 6s before it died. (Which, by the way, will terrify a paranoid bitch right down to her grew-up-in-the-Baptist-church soul when she's trying to talk to her friends on Yahoo, and her computer is typing "666" over and over by itself!)
So my fat redneck ass grabbed up my laptop and a flathead screwdriver and carefully pried those keys up off the keyboard. Then, I fucked with sensors a little to see if I could "unstick" them, if they were in fact stuck. Then, I said a quick prayer to Jehovah and hit the power button.
Fucker started right up, LOL.
In "celebration" of the drinking I will probably soon be doing...or the fucking random dudes...or both....*Eyeroll*
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
More
Well, I talked to my old boss, who is one of the managers at the new company, today. She thinks my concerns--that I won't get into here--are legitimate and not just paranoia or bitching. She suggested I bring it up to the other manager and the owner. So there's another email I have to send.
I'm giving them a month. If it's not fixed then, I'm taking my shit and leaving.
In other news, I'm pretty sure I'm either getting sick or am just plain run-down. I haven't eaten much the last couple of days, and I'm exhausted. Not just run-of-the-mill tired. I'm always that. But just flat don't wanna move exhausted. I tried to go to bed early (for me) last night to see if I could make myself feel better, but even though I was in bed by 1:30 am, it was about 7 am before I was able to sleep.
I'm still thinking about going on to bed, anyway, though. The system at work has been down for nearly 10 hours now. So I can't work. And even if it comes back, after it's been down for TEN HOURS, nobody's going to be calling.
I *know* I have things to address, both personally and professionally. But since the people I need to take these things up with aren't going to be pleased to hear from me, anyway, I don't think it'll hurt to wait another day or two. Better to do it when I feel more up to it because I'll write more diplomatically than I would right now.
Oh. My grandma's still in the hospital. My mother revealed that she doesn't want her to go to the nursing home because my mama needs her Social Security check to pay for God knows what, and if she goes in the nursing home, they'll take all but $30 of it or some shit.
So instead, they're going to let her lay around in the hospital until they release her, then go back home and go right back to doing the same shit again? These people are all insane. Every goddamn one of them. It's really a wonder I'm no more nutty than I am, given the genetics at work here.
Ok, yeah, I've decided I'm just worn completely out from all the drama in my life.
I'm giving them a month. If it's not fixed then, I'm taking my shit and leaving.
In other news, I'm pretty sure I'm either getting sick or am just plain run-down. I haven't eaten much the last couple of days, and I'm exhausted. Not just run-of-the-mill tired. I'm always that. But just flat don't wanna move exhausted. I tried to go to bed early (for me) last night to see if I could make myself feel better, but even though I was in bed by 1:30 am, it was about 7 am before I was able to sleep.
I'm still thinking about going on to bed, anyway, though. The system at work has been down for nearly 10 hours now. So I can't work. And even if it comes back, after it's been down for TEN HOURS, nobody's going to be calling.
I *know* I have things to address, both personally and professionally. But since the people I need to take these things up with aren't going to be pleased to hear from me, anyway, I don't think it'll hurt to wait another day or two. Better to do it when I feel more up to it because I'll write more diplomatically than I would right now.
Oh. My grandma's still in the hospital. My mother revealed that she doesn't want her to go to the nursing home because my mama needs her Social Security check to pay for God knows what, and if she goes in the nursing home, they'll take all but $30 of it or some shit.
So instead, they're going to let her lay around in the hospital until they release her, then go back home and go right back to doing the same shit again? These people are all insane. Every goddamn one of them. It's really a wonder I'm no more nutty than I am, given the genetics at work here.
Ok, yeah, I've decided I'm just worn completely out from all the drama in my life.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Et Tu, Brute?
One of my virtues, as it were (or failings, depending on how you look at it), is that I'm extremely loyal. To a fault, really. I won't abandon a sinking ship if that ship has taken me places in the past. Hell, I don't even like throwing away things I've had for awhile because I attach sentimental value to...everything.
But I've been on a sinking ship now for a year and a half. This ship (called WORK) has fucked me and my friends left and right. The company was great up until our then-owner fell face-first into a pile of white powder and wrecked it by blowing all the company funds on coke.
Then, it was sold to a bunch of dumbasses who couldn't manage their way out of a wet paper bag. Minutes have plummeted. Money is at its nadir at the moment. We're being fucked out of money left and right in favor of the girls who came from the company who bought us out, despite the fact that they're doing nothing and benefiting from our hard work, while we're just being ass-raped over and over and over.
So I'm taking the leap. I get to be Brutus this time. But I'm going to take my shit elsewhere and hope it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.
But I've been on a sinking ship now for a year and a half. This ship (called WORK) has fucked me and my friends left and right. The company was great up until our then-owner fell face-first into a pile of white powder and wrecked it by blowing all the company funds on coke.
Then, it was sold to a bunch of dumbasses who couldn't manage their way out of a wet paper bag. Minutes have plummeted. Money is at its nadir at the moment. We're being fucked out of money left and right in favor of the girls who came from the company who bought us out, despite the fact that they're doing nothing and benefiting from our hard work, while we're just being ass-raped over and over and over.
So I'm taking the leap. I get to be Brutus this time. But I'm going to take my shit elsewhere and hope it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.
The Sickos ;)
Ok, so my mother called at 11:30 tonight to tell me they're taking my grandma to the hospital. Well, more accurately, the ER.
Allow me to tell this story.
The woman has Alzheimer's. She's hateful, self-centered, attention-seeking, and just downright fucking mean. If you look up "Narcissistic Personality Disorder" in the dictionary, you'll see her picture right beside it. And, yes, she was always like this, not just since the Alzheimer's diagnosis. It's just worse now because the disease has removed the normal inhibitions. She used to just be a sneaky, two-faced bitch. She's mean now without even trying to hide it.
Anyway, I've been telling my mother that she needs to send her to the nursing home. For YEARS. They actually *did* call in hospice last month, but hospice nurses are about as useful as a screen door in a submarine. I know this from experience. *Eyeroll*
****TMI warning. If you're easily disgusted, skip this paragraph.****
Apparently, she's had diarrhea for the last, oh, TWO WEEKS or so. My poor mother and aunt have been cleaning it up all over the house. *Vomit* Anyway, she won't eat or drink, either. My mama said she looks all waxy and is obviously dehydrated.
****End ickyness****
Anyway, apparently, when you bring hospice in, you have to sign some kind of contract saying that you can't take the patient to the hospital with hospice's permission or whatever. So my mama and my aunt have been after these assholes to let her go on to the hospital all weekend. Finally, one of the nurses said she'd "talk to the doctor tomorrow."
I reckon my mama drew a hard line with them tonight, though, because they got the ok to haul her to the ER. I'd say I pity whoever had to deal with my mother, but I don't. They deserve it for their stupidity and laziness.
To my way of thinking, if someone's been that way for TWO WEEKS and is bad enough off that you send them to the ER at 11:30 at night, that person should've been sent long before then. I told my mama that if she dies of dehydration, we're suing the hospice people. I hate that old bitch more than anything in the world, but nobody deserves to thirst to death because you're a lazy, incompetent dumbfuck.
How the fuck hard is it to do your fucking job?
/rant
As for me, I've had a headache for I can't remember how long now. Today was particularly bad. I've caffeinated heavily, taken Excedrin migraine and Advil, drank Powerade to ward off dehydration, and eaten a couple of times to keep a decent blood sugar level. But it hasn't really eased up. Now, I feel sort of sick to my stomach (probably from all the damned caffeine). I'm also weak-ish and shaky. Probably going to try to make it until 2 and then go to bed.
If this shit isn't better tomorrow, there's still codeine cough syrup in the bathroom. I WILL get rid of it, by God.
I should be working on an important email. But I feel like hell. I *really* feel like hell. It'll just have to hold for now. I may have to go home to relieve my mother soon, anyway, so there may be a bit of a delay in dealing with the relationship issues. I dunno yet.
Allow me to tell this story.
The woman has Alzheimer's. She's hateful, self-centered, attention-seeking, and just downright fucking mean. If you look up "Narcissistic Personality Disorder" in the dictionary, you'll see her picture right beside it. And, yes, she was always like this, not just since the Alzheimer's diagnosis. It's just worse now because the disease has removed the normal inhibitions. She used to just be a sneaky, two-faced bitch. She's mean now without even trying to hide it.
Anyway, I've been telling my mother that she needs to send her to the nursing home. For YEARS. They actually *did* call in hospice last month, but hospice nurses are about as useful as a screen door in a submarine. I know this from experience. *Eyeroll*
****TMI warning. If you're easily disgusted, skip this paragraph.****
Apparently, she's had diarrhea for the last, oh, TWO WEEKS or so. My poor mother and aunt have been cleaning it up all over the house. *Vomit* Anyway, she won't eat or drink, either. My mama said she looks all waxy and is obviously dehydrated.
****End ickyness****
Anyway, apparently, when you bring hospice in, you have to sign some kind of contract saying that you can't take the patient to the hospital with hospice's permission or whatever. So my mama and my aunt have been after these assholes to let her go on to the hospital all weekend. Finally, one of the nurses said she'd "talk to the doctor tomorrow."
I reckon my mama drew a hard line with them tonight, though, because they got the ok to haul her to the ER. I'd say I pity whoever had to deal with my mother, but I don't. They deserve it for their stupidity and laziness.
To my way of thinking, if someone's been that way for TWO WEEKS and is bad enough off that you send them to the ER at 11:30 at night, that person should've been sent long before then. I told my mama that if she dies of dehydration, we're suing the hospice people. I hate that old bitch more than anything in the world, but nobody deserves to thirst to death because you're a lazy, incompetent dumbfuck.
How the fuck hard is it to do your fucking job?
/rant
As for me, I've had a headache for I can't remember how long now. Today was particularly bad. I've caffeinated heavily, taken Excedrin migraine and Advil, drank Powerade to ward off dehydration, and eaten a couple of times to keep a decent blood sugar level. But it hasn't really eased up. Now, I feel sort of sick to my stomach (probably from all the damned caffeine). I'm also weak-ish and shaky. Probably going to try to make it until 2 and then go to bed.
If this shit isn't better tomorrow, there's still codeine cough syrup in the bathroom. I WILL get rid of it, by God.
I should be working on an important email. But I feel like hell. I *really* feel like hell. It'll just have to hold for now. I may have to go home to relieve my mother soon, anyway, so there may be a bit of a delay in dealing with the relationship issues. I dunno yet.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Jealousy Post
Ok, so L.'s grandmother fell last night, so she ended up not coming to visit. That was ok, though. I stayed in bed through most of the day, listening to it rain and reading more Sherlock Holmes on my Kindle. Then, I made myself get up and do some work. :(
Now that that's taken care of, I'm blogging.
I actually started talking to a guy who seems...tolerable. Want to take bets on when he shows himself to be a.) a total asshole, b.) completely batshit, or c.) both?
I'm giving it...4 days. My money's on the 30th, folks. You heard it here first.
Ok, I said the other day that I was going to talk about jealousy. A couple of years ago, I found the absolute best article I've ever read about it in the context of polyamorous relationships, and I hand it out liberally to people.
The Broken Refrigerator
Read it. Seriously. ALL of it. Yes, I mean you. I'll wait....Even if you have to come back to it later when you can turn your full attention to it. It's incredibly long, yes, but it's also worth it. (All the articles on that site are pretty good, actually, but that one's the best, in my opinion.)
What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a prime example of a refusal to just FIX THE GODDAMN REFRIGERATOR. It's useless, it's counterproductive, it requires more effort to ignore the damn thing than it does to repair it, and it's destined to motherfucking fail.
This is the point I've been trying to get across forever. Nothing--and I do mean NOTHING--will ever change until the root of the problem is gotten at.
For my part, I've been working on my own envy issues. This is what I've found.
Bunny gets envious and, therefore, angry when---->She feels like she's being left out.
Feeling like she's being left out is bad because---->She doesn't get the attention she needs.
Not getting the attention she needs is bad because---->She feels lonely and unimportant.
Feeling lonely and unimportant is bad because---->Bunny thinks that if she isn't special in some way, she'll be forgotten about and/or left for someone more interesting.
That's pretty much the long and short of it. My beast is pretty well controlled by letting me know I'm special. Also, by not spending more time finding/fucking random hos than working on fixing problems when they arise.
I'm also pretty xenophobic, for the same reason. I don't mind "old" people in my relationships. When "new" people come along, though, I'm automatically distrustful. I'm the reverse of most people. I don't mind when people I love are in loving relationships with other people. I mind the casual, random hookups because I'm afraid that I'M no more important the casual people, thus if they find someone less crazy and lower-maintenance than me, they'll replace me because *all* casual fuck buddies are replaceable, and it makes more sense to have one who isn't so high-strung.
So. There you have it. My own jealousy/envy issues in a nutshell.
Now that that's taken care of, I'm blogging.
I actually started talking to a guy who seems...tolerable. Want to take bets on when he shows himself to be a.) a total asshole, b.) completely batshit, or c.) both?
I'm giving it...4 days. My money's on the 30th, folks. You heard it here first.
Ok, I said the other day that I was going to talk about jealousy. A couple of years ago, I found the absolute best article I've ever read about it in the context of polyamorous relationships, and I hand it out liberally to people.
The Broken Refrigerator
Read it. Seriously. ALL of it. Yes, I mean you. I'll wait....Even if you have to come back to it later when you can turn your full attention to it. It's incredibly long, yes, but it's also worth it. (All the articles on that site are pretty good, actually, but that one's the best, in my opinion.)
What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a prime example of a refusal to just FIX THE GODDAMN REFRIGERATOR. It's useless, it's counterproductive, it requires more effort to ignore the damn thing than it does to repair it, and it's destined to motherfucking fail.
One of the unintended consequences of vetoing a person your partner loves is that you hurt your partner; one of the predictable consequences of doing things which hurt your partner is you damage your relationship.
This is the point I've been trying to get across forever. Nothing--and I do mean NOTHING--will ever change until the root of the problem is gotten at.
For my part, I've been working on my own envy issues. This is what I've found.
Bunny gets envious and, therefore, angry when---->She feels like she's being left out.
Feeling like she's being left out is bad because---->She doesn't get the attention she needs.
Not getting the attention she needs is bad because---->She feels lonely and unimportant.
Feeling lonely and unimportant is bad because---->Bunny thinks that if she isn't special in some way, she'll be forgotten about and/or left for someone more interesting.
That's pretty much the long and short of it. My beast is pretty well controlled by letting me know I'm special. Also, by not spending more time finding/fucking random hos than working on fixing problems when they arise.
I'm also pretty xenophobic, for the same reason. I don't mind "old" people in my relationships. When "new" people come along, though, I'm automatically distrustful. I'm the reverse of most people. I don't mind when people I love are in loving relationships with other people. I mind the casual, random hookups because I'm afraid that I'M no more important the casual people, thus if they find someone less crazy and lower-maintenance than me, they'll replace me because *all* casual fuck buddies are replaceable, and it makes more sense to have one who isn't so high-strung.
So. There you have it. My own jealousy/envy issues in a nutshell.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Oh, Yeah
I've never understood why people say they'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. I'd rather feel pain that I have some control over than pain I don't. The "nothing at all" has never been an option.
If it were, I sincerely doubt I'd be in this boat right now.
Seems to me that if you'd rather hurt than feel nothing, you've obviously never experienced enough pain in your life.
Nothingness would truly be a most welcome feeling.
If it were, I sincerely doubt I'd be in this boat right now.
Seems to me that if you'd rather hurt than feel nothing, you've obviously never experienced enough pain in your life.
Nothingness would truly be a most welcome feeling.
Another Useless Post
I want to write something really profound. But I feel oddly stuck. I have things going through my head, but they haven't matured enough to want to come out yet.
I'm trying to work on the anger. I didn't know how for the longest time. But then, randomly, I was Googling some shit, and it came to me. How do you get past anger? Forgiveness. Obviously. Duh.
It's harder than it sounds. But I'm trying. Oh, God, I'm trying.
I'm trying to work on the anger. I didn't know how for the longest time. But then, randomly, I was Googling some shit, and it came to me. How do you get past anger? Forgiveness. Obviously. Duh.
It's harder than it sounds. But I'm trying. Oh, God, I'm trying.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Ok, So
I feel a little better now than I did earlier. Work's been slow, but I managed to get a lot of shit done tonight. Plus, when I was at the darkest depths of self-pitying loneliness and despair, my friend L. sent me a text, saying she was thinking about coming to visit Sunday. It was like she knew somehow, LOL.
I think we're going to go out. Yay! I haven't been out in...since Kitty's birthday, I think. Last year. In August. :(
There's really nothing that lifts a trashy bitch's spirits like dressing up like a ho, going to a redneck bar, getting plastered, getting hit on by creepy old men, dancing and singing like an idiot, and having pictures taken documenting every single retarded thing you did that night.
*Sigh* I really am a narcissist.
I'm still kinda sad, though. Just less sad.
A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same
And all the miles that separate
They disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight
It's only you and me
The miles just keep rolling
As the people leave their way to say hello
I've heard this life is overrated
But I hope that it gets better as we go
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, girl
It's only you and me
Everything I know
And anywhere I go
It gets hard
But it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it's all said and done
It gets hard
But it won't take away my love
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, girl
It's only you and me
I think we're going to go out. Yay! I haven't been out in...since Kitty's birthday, I think. Last year. In August. :(
There's really nothing that lifts a trashy bitch's spirits like dressing up like a ho, going to a redneck bar, getting plastered, getting hit on by creepy old men, dancing and singing like an idiot, and having pictures taken documenting every single retarded thing you did that night.
*Sigh* I really am a narcissist.
I'm still kinda sad, though. Just less sad.
A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same
And all the miles that separate
They disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight
It's only you and me
The miles just keep rolling
As the people leave their way to say hello
I've heard this life is overrated
But I hope that it gets better as we go
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, girl
It's only you and me
Everything I know
And anywhere I go
It gets hard
But it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it's all said and done
It gets hard
But it won't take away my love
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, girl
It's only you and me
Friday, June 24, 2011
Lonely
I'm really lonely. The closest friend I have is two hours away. Nobody's got money to come visit, and I can't go anywhere now because my laptop is fucked. I'd have to have a way to work, and without the laptop, I can't. :|
So here I sit.
This time last year, I was so excited to be moving to this place. We were getting out of Jacksonville. It was a fairly nice apartment for not very much money. It seemed like the stepping stone to something bigger.
But now I see it's just like everything else in my life. A black hole that's sucked me in and won't let me out.
I always thought that my bouts of loneliness were just temporary. Something that was difficult to get through, but transient. But no. I see now that the rest of my life is going to be like this.
I don't know if I can stand it.
So here I sit.
This time last year, I was so excited to be moving to this place. We were getting out of Jacksonville. It was a fairly nice apartment for not very much money. It seemed like the stepping stone to something bigger.
But now I see it's just like everything else in my life. A black hole that's sucked me in and won't let me out.
I always thought that my bouts of loneliness were just temporary. Something that was difficult to get through, but transient. But no. I see now that the rest of my life is going to be like this.
I don't know if I can stand it.
Pardon Me While I Rage
Been struggling with some things of late. I'm going to go ahead and blog about it now because I sincerely doubt I'm going to be able to sit up on this desktop much longer. I didn't make it up early enough in time today to go get the desk out of storage, so I'm *still* sitting in the floor. My ass hurts. :(
Ok. Things I'm struggling with.
#1--Still lots of anger. Apparently, I'm bitter at the world. To some degree, it's understandable. I mean, you try having a genius-level IQ in a shitty small town where you're poor white trash with a batshit crazy family who instills in you that your ONLY worth is what you look like and how much you can give to people (in that order) and see if you come out perfectly well-adjusted. Yeah, not so much.
But I guess I should really get over it, after all this time. It's just really hard. I want to rage against every injustice that's been committed to me, especially, and to others. But I'm aware that that's equivalent to pissing in the wind. But holding it in and randomly exploding has done nothing but make me MORE bitter and MORE angry. I just haven't found acceptable alternatives yet. :|
#2--I'm having a hard time with certain situations in my life. I'm tired of always finding myself in places where *I* have to take full responsibility for everything that happens because, God knows, I'M the only one who's ever wrong. The rest of these perfect motherfuckers can do no wrong, so they heap all the blame on me. And I'm the dumbass who accepts it.
It must be nice to know that you've got scapegoat handy for every time you act like an asshole.
#3--I really want to just bash people's heads in sometimes. I mean, I'm sick of being made responsible for other people's feelings. I'm fine with being responsible for my own, but not YOURS, too, goddammit. If YOU'RE jealous, how the fuck is that MY fault? Own your shit like everybody else has to.
When I'm a bitch, I say I'm a bitch. I admit it. I don't run around going, "Oh, well, if SHE weren't here, I wouldn't be a bitch." No, I'm going to be a bitch regardless of who's around. Jealousy works the same way, assholes.
#4--I could keep going. I'm just...really upset that in order to even attempt to make a shitty situation any better, I'm going to have to shoulder every bit of the blame YET AGAIN. And then open myself up to criticism, to more shitty treatment, to more everything for something that, ultimately, is neither my fault nor my problem.
I'm sorry you hate me because you're jealous. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that? Why do I have to be punished because YOU have no control over your own emotions? And regardless of what people will say, that's always been the real problem. Why was I a bitch? I don't know, maybe because I was treated like the disposable maid and sex toy for so long. And why was I treated that way?
Because YOU were jealous.
But this is somehow MY fault.
Oh, that's right. Every motherfucking thing is my fault. I keep forgetting.
Might wanna rethink kicking me out of your life, then. God knows what you'll do when you don't have a scapegoat for your reprehensible behavior.
Also, it's nice that you think that it's ok for everyone else in the world to be miserable, so you don't have to face your own demons. That's fucking cowardice if I ever saw it. Cowardice and selfishness. "It's cool if other people are sad, as long as I get what I want."
But what can you expect from someone with an entitlement complex that's larger than MY ego?
In a similar vein, I hate myself for having those thoughts. But I can't help it. I WANT this to work. But I don't want to have to go back to the status quo for it to happen.
No, you know what? It's not that I don't want to. It's that I CAN'T. Not for the sake of my OWN GODDAMN SANITY. Which, I'm sorry, is more important than someone else's comfort. There's my selfishness. Have fun admiring it.
You know what? I'd walk away from this in a goddamn heartbeat if I thought I were the only one it'd affect. If I thought there'd be a party thrown if I left without a backward glance, I'd fucking go. But this affects more than just me, more than just her.
For someone who claims to love him so damn much, you sure do like to stand in the way of what makes him happy.
I can't do that. Do you think this situation is ideal for me? No. But I'd die before I'd tell him he had to choose between us. You know why? Because for whatever reason, you make him happy. And if I claim to love him, then WHO THE FUCK AM I to stand between him and what he needs to be happy?
Maybe your life would go better if you figured out the difference between love and ownership/possession. I'd douse myself in kerosene and light myself on fire if it'd make him happy. Not if it'd save his life. Not if it'd accomplish something for the greater good. I'd do it if only to AMUSE him.
And that's not "submission," honey. That's what love is. It's having someone else who's so much more important than you, than yourself, than your own pride, than your own ego, that you'd do ANYTHING for that person(s), regardless of how it impacts you. Anything less ain't really love.
He's a goddamn human being. Not a fucking trophy that you parade around, so you can show everyone you "won."
Wow...that did not go where I meant for it to go. But I think it's better for it to come out here than somewhere else. Maybe if the anger's out, I can come up with something productive.
Actually, I'm going to post something about jealousy tomorrow. It's an article that I read a long time ago, and I think it's great.
If you think I'm being an exhibitionist by saying all this here, well, I hate it. I need to work my shit out because I've got some things to handle soon. Better here, where it will harm no one, than somewhere else.
That's because I'm NOT an entitled bitch.
Ok. Things I'm struggling with.
#1--Still lots of anger. Apparently, I'm bitter at the world. To some degree, it's understandable. I mean, you try having a genius-level IQ in a shitty small town where you're poor white trash with a batshit crazy family who instills in you that your ONLY worth is what you look like and how much you can give to people (in that order) and see if you come out perfectly well-adjusted. Yeah, not so much.
But I guess I should really get over it, after all this time. It's just really hard. I want to rage against every injustice that's been committed to me, especially, and to others. But I'm aware that that's equivalent to pissing in the wind. But holding it in and randomly exploding has done nothing but make me MORE bitter and MORE angry. I just haven't found acceptable alternatives yet. :|
#2--I'm having a hard time with certain situations in my life. I'm tired of always finding myself in places where *I* have to take full responsibility for everything that happens because, God knows, I'M the only one who's ever wrong. The rest of these perfect motherfuckers can do no wrong, so they heap all the blame on me. And I'm the dumbass who accepts it.
It must be nice to know that you've got scapegoat handy for every time you act like an asshole.
#3--I really want to just bash people's heads in sometimes. I mean, I'm sick of being made responsible for other people's feelings. I'm fine with being responsible for my own, but not YOURS, too, goddammit. If YOU'RE jealous, how the fuck is that MY fault? Own your shit like everybody else has to.
When I'm a bitch, I say I'm a bitch. I admit it. I don't run around going, "Oh, well, if SHE weren't here, I wouldn't be a bitch." No, I'm going to be a bitch regardless of who's around. Jealousy works the same way, assholes.
#4--I could keep going. I'm just...really upset that in order to even attempt to make a shitty situation any better, I'm going to have to shoulder every bit of the blame YET AGAIN. And then open myself up to criticism, to more shitty treatment, to more everything for something that, ultimately, is neither my fault nor my problem.
I'm sorry you hate me because you're jealous. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that? Why do I have to be punished because YOU have no control over your own emotions? And regardless of what people will say, that's always been the real problem. Why was I a bitch? I don't know, maybe because I was treated like the disposable maid and sex toy for so long. And why was I treated that way?
Because YOU were jealous.
But this is somehow MY fault.
Oh, that's right. Every motherfucking thing is my fault. I keep forgetting.
Might wanna rethink kicking me out of your life, then. God knows what you'll do when you don't have a scapegoat for your reprehensible behavior.
Also, it's nice that you think that it's ok for everyone else in the world to be miserable, so you don't have to face your own demons. That's fucking cowardice if I ever saw it. Cowardice and selfishness. "It's cool if other people are sad, as long as I get what I want."
But what can you expect from someone with an entitlement complex that's larger than MY ego?
In a similar vein, I hate myself for having those thoughts. But I can't help it. I WANT this to work. But I don't want to have to go back to the status quo for it to happen.
No, you know what? It's not that I don't want to. It's that I CAN'T. Not for the sake of my OWN GODDAMN SANITY. Which, I'm sorry, is more important than someone else's comfort. There's my selfishness. Have fun admiring it.
You know what? I'd walk away from this in a goddamn heartbeat if I thought I were the only one it'd affect. If I thought there'd be a party thrown if I left without a backward glance, I'd fucking go. But this affects more than just me, more than just her.
For someone who claims to love him so damn much, you sure do like to stand in the way of what makes him happy.
I can't do that. Do you think this situation is ideal for me? No. But I'd die before I'd tell him he had to choose between us. You know why? Because for whatever reason, you make him happy. And if I claim to love him, then WHO THE FUCK AM I to stand between him and what he needs to be happy?
Maybe your life would go better if you figured out the difference between love and ownership/possession. I'd douse myself in kerosene and light myself on fire if it'd make him happy. Not if it'd save his life. Not if it'd accomplish something for the greater good. I'd do it if only to AMUSE him.
And that's not "submission," honey. That's what love is. It's having someone else who's so much more important than you, than yourself, than your own pride, than your own ego, that you'd do ANYTHING for that person(s), regardless of how it impacts you. Anything less ain't really love.
He's a goddamn human being. Not a fucking trophy that you parade around, so you can show everyone you "won."
Wow...that did not go where I meant for it to go. But I think it's better for it to come out here than somewhere else. Maybe if the anger's out, I can come up with something productive.
Actually, I'm going to post something about jealousy tomorrow. It's an article that I read a long time ago, and I think it's great.
If you think I'm being an exhibitionist by saying all this here, well, I hate it. I need to work my shit out because I've got some things to handle soon. Better here, where it will harm no one, than somewhere else.
That's because I'm NOT an entitled bitch.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
There Are Days....
There are days when I want to binge on every sweet, fluffy, iced, and cream-filled delight the world has ever known. Then, fuck every man in a ten-mile radius and drown my shame in the rest of the vodka I have in this house. And, finally, wash it all down with the codeine cough syrup in the medicine cabinet.
This...is one of those days.
Then, there are days that the only thing that stops me is my own (considerable) vanity. If I happened to live through it, I'd have aged twenty years in the face when it was over. If I died, by the time someone realized I was gone and found me, I'd be one ugly corpse.
Thus, I consign myself to reading Charlotte Bronte in bed on my Kindle after being caught in a goddamn monsoon on my way back from the grocery store at 3:30 in the goddamn morning and having to unload my shit in the eye of Tropical Storm Asshole...and complaining about it in my blog, of course.
Also, it's still a bitch to blog on my Kindle. I think I shall go back to using it for what it was made for--indulging my every romantic Victorian fantasy. All the gang's here, after all. Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, Agnes Gray, Shirley Keeldar and Caroline, and, of course, Holmes and Watson.
That settles it. I really was born in the wrong time. :(
Where's my hoop skirt, goddamn you?
This...is one of those days.
Then, there are days that the only thing that stops me is my own (considerable) vanity. If I happened to live through it, I'd have aged twenty years in the face when it was over. If I died, by the time someone realized I was gone and found me, I'd be one ugly corpse.
Thus, I consign myself to reading Charlotte Bronte in bed on my Kindle after being caught in a goddamn monsoon on my way back from the grocery store at 3:30 in the goddamn morning and having to unload my shit in the eye of Tropical Storm Asshole...and complaining about it in my blog, of course.
Also, it's still a bitch to blog on my Kindle. I think I shall go back to using it for what it was made for--indulging my every romantic Victorian fantasy. All the gang's here, after all. Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, Agnes Gray, Shirley Keeldar and Caroline, and, of course, Holmes and Watson.
That settles it. I really was born in the wrong time. :(
Where's my hoop skirt, goddamn you?
Fuck Me
God motherfucking dammit. I'd cry if I thought it'd do any fucking good.
I'm pretty sure I just lost the hard drive on my goddamn laptop. If this is the case, I've lost hundreds of dollars of content, among other things. My whole fucking LIFE and CAREER are on that motherfucker.
It started acting crazy, then I tried to shut down and restart in safe mode. It never would let me start in safe mode--actually, I could never find HOW. And, finally, after multiple restarts, it won't start again. I get to the boot menu, then it starts making this loud, continuous beeping noise.
And that's it.
I'm going to go tomorrow to find one of those things where you can hook the hard drive on one computer up to another one and see if it's the hard drive that's the problem or something else. I don't give a damn if the whole computer has shit out, but I NEED that goddamn hard drive.
What I'll do if the computer HAS shit out, I don't know. I damn sure don't have the money to replace it. But I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Story of my motherfucking life.
I'm pretty sure I just lost the hard drive on my goddamn laptop. If this is the case, I've lost hundreds of dollars of content, among other things. My whole fucking LIFE and CAREER are on that motherfucker.
It started acting crazy, then I tried to shut down and restart in safe mode. It never would let me start in safe mode--actually, I could never find HOW. And, finally, after multiple restarts, it won't start again. I get to the boot menu, then it starts making this loud, continuous beeping noise.
And that's it.
I'm going to go tomorrow to find one of those things where you can hook the hard drive on one computer up to another one and see if it's the hard drive that's the problem or something else. I don't give a damn if the whole computer has shit out, but I NEED that goddamn hard drive.
What I'll do if the computer HAS shit out, I don't know. I damn sure don't have the money to replace it. But I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Story of my motherfucking life.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
:(
So I was going to write another insightful(ish) blog tonight. But I've dealt with so many idiots today and am so tired that I think I'm headed to bed early. I hope I'll be able to come up with something coherent tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
On Stability
This post has been building for about a month now. I've finally gotten my thoughts together enough to put it on paper, so here goes.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do have is consistency.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent. (And tomorrow's blog will probably be about how *I* need consistency. But for now, let's stick with me *being* consistent.)
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of my instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now. I just hope I can make people understand....
sta·bil·i·ty
[stuh-bil-i-tee]
–noun, plural -ties.
1.
the state or quality of being stable.
2.
firmness in position.
3.
continuance without change; permanence.
sta·ble2
[stey-buhl]
–adjective, -bler, -blest.
1.
not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady.
2.
able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent: a stable government.
3.
resistant to sudden change or deterioration: A stable economy is the aim of every government.
4.
steadfast; not wavering or changeable, as in character or purpose; dependable.
5.
not subject to emotional instability or illness; sane; mentally sound.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do have is consistency.
con·sist·en·cy
[kuhn-sis-tuhn-see]
–noun, plural -cies.
1.
a degree of density, firmness, viscosity, etc.: The liquid has the consistency of cream.
2.
steadfast adherence to the same principles, course, form, etc.: There is consistency in his pattern of behavior.
3.
agreement, harmony, or compatibility, especially correspondence or uniformity among the parts of a complex thing: consistency of colors throughout the house.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent. (And tomorrow's blog will probably be about how *I* need consistency. But for now, let's stick with me *being* consistent.)
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
To the world,
I promise temperance and insight and courage,
To crusade for justice,
To seek the truth and defend it always
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of my instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now. I just hope I can make people understand....
On Stability
This post has been building for about a month now. I've finally gotten my thoughts together enough to put it on paper, so here goes.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do have is consistency.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent. (And tomorrow's blog will probably be about how *I* need consistency. But for now, let's stick with me *being* consistent.)
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now, bitches. I just hope I can make people understand....
sta·bil·i·ty
[stuh-bil-i-tee]
–noun, plural -ties.
1.
the state or quality of being stable.
2.
firmness in position.
3.
continuance without change; permanence.
sta·ble2
[stey-buhl]
–adjective, -bler, -blest.
1.
not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady.
2.
able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent: a stable government.
3.
resistant to sudden change or deterioration: A stable economy is the aim of every government.
4.
steadfast; not wavering or changeable, as in character or purpose; dependable.
5.
not subject to emotional instability or illness; sane; mentally sound.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do have is consistency.
con·sist·en·cy
[kuhn-sis-tuhn-see]
–noun, plural -cies.
1.
a degree of density, firmness, viscosity, etc.: The liquid has the consistency of cream.
2.
steadfast adherence to the same principles, course, form, etc.: There is consistency in his pattern of behavior.
3.
agreement, harmony, or compatibility, especially correspondence or uniformity among the parts of a complex thing: consistency of colors throughout the house.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent. (And tomorrow's blog will probably be about how *I* need consistency. But for now, let's stick with me *being* consistent.)
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
To the world,
I promise temperance and insight and courage,
To crusade for justice,
To seek the truth and defend it always
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now, bitches. I just hope I can make people understand....
On Stability
This post has been building for about a month now. I've finally gotten my thoughts together enough to put it on paper, so here goes.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do crave is consistency.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent.
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now, bitches. I just hope I can make people understand....
sta·bil·i·ty
[stuh-bil-i-tee]
–noun, plural -ties.
1.
the state or quality of being stable.
2.
firmness in position.
3.
continuance without change; permanence.
sta·ble2
[stey-buhl]
–adjective, -bler, -blest.
1.
not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady.
2.
able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent: a stable government.
3.
resistant to sudden change or deterioration: A stable economy is the aim of every government.
4.
steadfast; not wavering or changeable, as in character or purpose; dependable.
5.
not subject to emotional instability or illness; sane; mentally sound.
The mental health implications of these words aside (for now), stability is still not something I can offer.
I want to be able to jump ship and go do what I want to do without anything really tying me down. If I want to take my shit and move to Florida, I want to be able to do it. I don't necessarily like my job in the form it's in now, but I love the fact that it doesn't tie me to some shitty office in some shithole town I can't stand. I can't stand the thought of working *for* someone anymore. I'll work for myself, or I'll die. One or the other. I don't want to have the supposed American Dream life with the cookie-cutter house in the cookie-cutter suburb, surrounded by people *just like me*, completely clueless about the world around me and absorbed only in myself and my tiny little sphere.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I want to avoid responsibilities or consequences for my actions. This is not some manic "fuck the world, I'ma do what I want" phase.
The problem is, I guess I'm a selfish fuck. I've always valued my own independence and my own freedom above other people's desire for stability. Can't hang with me? Then get the fuck out. It's also the reason I'll never have kids. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to inflict my own selfishness on children.
Unfortunately, it makes for a very lonely life because what most people want is the same sort of stability that I loathe.
This isn't theoretical, by the way. I've tried it. And, honestly, in the famous words of Ludacris, "You can't turn a 'ho into a housewife."
On the other hand, while "stability" makes me want to blow my brains out, what I do crave is consistency.
con·sist·en·cy
[kuhn-sis-tuhn-see]
–noun, plural -cies.
1.
a degree of density, firmness, viscosity, etc.: The liquid has the consistency of cream.
2.
steadfast adherence to the same principles, course, form, etc.: There is consistency in his pattern of behavior.
3.
agreement, harmony, or compatibility, especially correspondence or uniformity among the parts of a complex thing: consistency of colors throughout the house.
It's a fine distinction, to be sure, but I think it's important. I'm unstable (mentally and otherwise), impulsive, rash, prone to doing shit for no reason other than because I can, instigative, motivated heavily by spite, and divisive, as a person. But one thing you can count on is that I'm consistent.
You may be asking how I can say I'm consistent, even though I'm unstable, impulsive, rash, etc., etc. Well, read definition #2 again. I'll wait.
In spite of my oft-erratic behavior, I have a set of principles that I stick to insistently. You may never know what kind of mood I'll be in, what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time, or even what my favorite color might be at any given time (though it's probably purple, FYI), but you can always guarantee that when someone violates said principles, I'll be ready to fight.
When I was in college, I joined a sorority. As cheesy as this sounds, the beginning of our creed--and, yes, if you don't know me and you Google this, you'll know what sorority I was/am in, but fuck you, I don't care--has always pretty well summed me up from the beginning.
To the world,
I promise temperance and insight and courage,
To crusade for justice,
To seek the truth and defend it always
(Yes, I am a fan of block quotes today.)
Ok, so I suck on the "temperance" part. I burn hot or I run cold. I do things all the way or not at all. But as for the rest? Guilty.
You can count on me to (eventually) do the right thing, whatever the right thing happens to be in my mind. You can count on me to always be on guard against hypocrisy in myself, as I think it's the worst sin you can commit. I may not always succeed in not being hypocritical, but I try very hard. You can count on me to come to the rescue when nobody else will for no other reason than because I cared enough to. I will swoop in like an avenging angel (or a bat out of hell, depending on your perspective), wrap you in my wings, make my fantastic gesture, and fly the hell out again.
You probably can't expect me to give much of a shit about the daily grind (stability). But, by God, when you need me, you know I'll be there (consistency). The little things aren't my forte, but the grand gestures are.
It's just my nature.
You see, one of the things that's consistent about me is that I'm a passionate person. Yes, I will crusade for justice because if I don't, who will?
First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.
Yes, I had to throw another block quote in there. Sue me.
No, I cannot offer stability. Even when I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'll never be the rock that someone can cling to desperately to keep from drowning. But I am consistent, and I am passionate. I'm more like the anchor that you don't necessarily realize is there as you float around in the shallow waters of your life until you find yourself being sucked out to sea, and then you're relieved that my chain is wrapped around your ankle, preventing you from being pulled out in the open waters, where there's nothing but tankers and oil rigs.
That's all that I am. Take it or leave it.
This isn't exactly a tightly written blog post. I'm meandering, but I'm bad about that. It's more of a loose collection of thoughts, rather than something that has a point. There's only one more thing I want to say, though, and I'm done.
I'm guilty of burning things to the ground because of instability, because of my passionate nature. I do it a lot. But the one thing people forget is that sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes, you have to slash-and-burn to get something worthwhile to grow up from the ashes.
And that's what I'm doing right now, bitches. I just hope I can make people understand....
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Productive...Kind Of
I've been getting a lot of work shit done lately. I have a ton of things on my plate, but my to-do list is slowly but surely getting shorter. Today was no exception. I was killing it there for awhile, LOL.
Once the pay period ended, I went to Walmart for groceries and for my Daddy a Father's Day gift. I'm going to meet him tomorrow to give it to him. He told me a little while back that the little personal DVD thing he had for his truck (the kind with the player and the screen) died. So I got him a new one and a movie. I should've probably gotten something else, too, but a.) I'm broke, and b.) I have no idea what else I could've done. :(
I just finished all the work stuff I'm going to do tonight. Then, I sent Kitty an email with some stuff that I've been wanting to tell her, like apologizing for being such an impossible bitch and so forth. I doubt it's going to repair anything now, but I feel like she should know how I felt about everything.
I still miss my best friend. :(
So those things, at least, are taken care of. I still have many more to handle, but for the sake of my sanity, I can only deal with so many at a time.
I think I'm going to try to go to bed now. It's a little early by my standards, but I have to meet Daddy sometime tomorrow, and I don't really know when he'll wanna get together. So in the interest of getting at least *some* sleep, I'm headed to bed.
Adios, readers. Adios.
Once the pay period ended, I went to Walmart for groceries and for my Daddy a Father's Day gift. I'm going to meet him tomorrow to give it to him. He told me a little while back that the little personal DVD thing he had for his truck (the kind with the player and the screen) died. So I got him a new one and a movie. I should've probably gotten something else, too, but a.) I'm broke, and b.) I have no idea what else I could've done. :(
I just finished all the work stuff I'm going to do tonight. Then, I sent Kitty an email with some stuff that I've been wanting to tell her, like apologizing for being such an impossible bitch and so forth. I doubt it's going to repair anything now, but I feel like she should know how I felt about everything.
I still miss my best friend. :(
So those things, at least, are taken care of. I still have many more to handle, but for the sake of my sanity, I can only deal with so many at a time.
I think I'm going to try to go to bed now. It's a little early by my standards, but I have to meet Daddy sometime tomorrow, and I don't really know when he'll wanna get together. So in the interest of getting at least *some* sleep, I'm headed to bed.
Adios, readers. Adios.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Yeah, So...
Dear X,
I've been lying here for hours, alternating between trying to read and trying to sleep. I haven't been doing so well at either one, though, because my mind keeps wandering to you and to this whole situation.
I know you've wondered for years why I lie to you about fucking him. I say that it's because you don't trust me, so I figure I might as well live up to your low expectations. On the other hand, though, I understand why you don't trust me--because I lie to you about fucking him. Your lack of trust in me feeds my desire to lie to you, and my lying to you feeds your lack of trust in me.
I've never really dug deeper than that, but I've been trying really hard to work some things out, mostly for myself, but partly for the benefit of people I care about. And I've finally figured it out.
Allow me to explain.
I feel inadequate around you. You're competent at things; I'm not. You're adept at talking to people; I'm not. You can cook; I can't. You can clean; I can't. You have feminine aspects as far as looks and personality; I don't. You're outgoing; I fade into the background. You can do things that matter; I can write what amount to sex infomercials. You're "decent people"; I'm a white trash whore.
So what does this have to do with me fucking him behind your back? It's because I'm afraid if I don't do it, he'll lose interest--because sex is, quite literally, the only thing I have to offer anyone.
I'm so sorry.
~Bunny
I've been lying here for hours, alternating between trying to read and trying to sleep. I haven't been doing so well at either one, though, because my mind keeps wandering to you and to this whole situation.
I know you've wondered for years why I lie to you about fucking him. I say that it's because you don't trust me, so I figure I might as well live up to your low expectations. On the other hand, though, I understand why you don't trust me--because I lie to you about fucking him. Your lack of trust in me feeds my desire to lie to you, and my lying to you feeds your lack of trust in me.
I've never really dug deeper than that, but I've been trying really hard to work some things out, mostly for myself, but partly for the benefit of people I care about. And I've finally figured it out.
Allow me to explain.
I feel inadequate around you. You're competent at things; I'm not. You're adept at talking to people; I'm not. You can cook; I can't. You can clean; I can't. You have feminine aspects as far as looks and personality; I don't. You're outgoing; I fade into the background. You can do things that matter; I can write what amount to sex infomercials. You're "decent people"; I'm a white trash whore.
So what does this have to do with me fucking him behind your back? It's because I'm afraid if I don't do it, he'll lose interest--because sex is, quite literally, the only thing I have to offer anyone.
I'm so sorry.
~Bunny
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Back Home
Ok, so I'm back home. Only problem is, I'm too damn tired to do anything. I had big plans for what I was going to get done today, and they've all pretty much fizzled. I'm sure I'll spend most of the weekend catching up.
I think I'm going to go to bed now, though. Otherwise, I'll sit up and do NOTHING all fucking night. God knows, I need the sleep.
I think I'm going to go to bed now, though. Otherwise, I'll sit up and do NOTHING all fucking night. God knows, I need the sleep.
....
I canceled the psych appointment. I thought it was a good idea, but I really don't have it in me to go through with it right now. My intention is to call them again next week and reschedule with a different psych, one that I'd like to see. I have a lot of shit I need to take care of next week, anyway, so I'll just add that to my list.
Going to shower and eat now and probably head home.
Going to shower and eat now and probably head home.
FML, FML, FML
Today has not been a very good day.
I was going to go home today, but it started storming really badly, so I'm still here. The power and the Internet both went out. K. and I went to a movie, since we didn't have anything better to do. (Super 8. It was kind of...meh. Not bad, but don't waste your money seeing it in the theater. Wait 'til it comes out on Netflix or whatever.) When we came back, the power was back. My head hurt too bad to work, so I tried to upload the new design to my website. I worked on that, getting maybe a quarter of the way done, for hours, until I couldn't stand it anymore.
I'm incredibly proud of the way this site looks, or will look when I'm finished changing everything. Yes, I paid a designer to do it, but whatever. It's amazing. The site is on page two of Google for a keyword that's searched 10,000 times a month. (THAT is all me. I didn't have to pay for that, thank you very much.) I decided before it hit page one--which I hope will happen soon--it needed to look more professional. A girl I work with did the design work for me and charged me practically nothing. I'm VERY pleased.
So, of course, B. (#2) had to come along and ruin everything.
I was all excited and showed it to him. He was all like, "The background looks ghetto. She didn't put any work into it. It makes the whole thing look ghetto and tacky." I asked where he was seeing this "ghetto, tacky" background. Then, he starts SCREAMING at me and saying it's all over the website.
"The Wordpress pages or the HTML pages?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Then, he goes on this whole tirade about the fact that the footer bar is stationary--it's supposed to be, by the way--means that she was lazy and didn't want to do the work it needed. (He's a fine one to talk about this, by the way.) Then, he tells me how HE could fix it. You know, because he's a big, strong man who knows everything by virtue of having a penis. *Eyeroll*
I explain (again) that the bottom bar is supposed to be stationary, and he's all like, "That's poorly done. That's what gets you flunked out of college classes on HTML."
Ok. Number one, HE flunked out of college web design classes. Number two, that's not even HTML. That's Photoshop. Number three, he didn't recognize the difference in Wordpress pages and HTML pages, despite those college web design classes that he, you know, flunked out of. Big hint: The URLs of the HTML pages end in .htm. *Facepalm*
Then, he tells me that I just don't know any better, that she just told me it was intentional to make it easy for herself and overcharge me.
Because, as we all know, I'm too stupid to breathe without him telling me how to do it.
I told him she didn't overcharge me, that, in fact, she undercharged me. And he had the fucking balls to ask how much she charged. I wouldn't tell him simply because it's none of his business, but all the girls she works with get custom Wordpress layouts, HTML page layouts, and site banners for the same price she charges everyone else for JUST the Wordpress layout.
As a matter of fact, when she told me how much it was, I actually offered her more because I felt like I was ripping her off.
But this blog isn't in defense of my designer, who is a wonderful person and whose credentials stand on their own. It's about the fact that NO MATTER WHAT, somebody in my life has to be a critical, hateful asshole.
God forbid he just say, "Oh, that's really nice. You've done a lot of work on the site yourself as far as SEO goes, too. Between what you've done and the new design, once that site hits page one, you're going to get rich," or something like that. I didn't ask his opinion. I just said, "Here, look at this." And, of course, he has to criticize everything, INCLUDING my intelligence.
I'm sick of condescending fucks. I'm tired of people trying to manipulate me to further their own fucking agendas. I'm tired of feeling like a pawn in the chess games of everyone else's lives.
People accuse me of being overly sensitive. Perhaps in some ways I am. But on the other hand, people are fucking nasty to me when there's no need to be, and I'm to the point that I can't handle it without flipping my shit anymore. It hurts me. Why can't people say nice things to me and treat me how they'd like to be treated?
But no. Feel free to just shit on Bunny whenever. She's used to it. *Eyeroll*
In other news, I'm going to try to go home tomorrow. I really don't know that I want to go to that psych appointment Friday. I didn't get an appointment with any of the ones I actually wanted to see, and the lady they've got me seeing specializes in...child psychology. Not bipolar. Not personality disorders. Child psychology. *Sigh* I'm thinking seriously of canceling that one and trying to reschedule with someone else.
I've been stressing really badly. I've chewed the inside of my bottom lip all to pieces, and I still can't stop.
It's gonna get better. It's got to.
I was going to go home today, but it started storming really badly, so I'm still here. The power and the Internet both went out. K. and I went to a movie, since we didn't have anything better to do. (Super 8. It was kind of...meh. Not bad, but don't waste your money seeing it in the theater. Wait 'til it comes out on Netflix or whatever.) When we came back, the power was back. My head hurt too bad to work, so I tried to upload the new design to my website. I worked on that, getting maybe a quarter of the way done, for hours, until I couldn't stand it anymore.
I'm incredibly proud of the way this site looks, or will look when I'm finished changing everything. Yes, I paid a designer to do it, but whatever. It's amazing. The site is on page two of Google for a keyword that's searched 10,000 times a month. (THAT is all me. I didn't have to pay for that, thank you very much.) I decided before it hit page one--which I hope will happen soon--it needed to look more professional. A girl I work with did the design work for me and charged me practically nothing. I'm VERY pleased.
So, of course, B. (#2) had to come along and ruin everything.
I was all excited and showed it to him. He was all like, "The background looks ghetto. She didn't put any work into it. It makes the whole thing look ghetto and tacky." I asked where he was seeing this "ghetto, tacky" background. Then, he starts SCREAMING at me and saying it's all over the website.
"The Wordpress pages or the HTML pages?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Then, he goes on this whole tirade about the fact that the footer bar is stationary--it's supposed to be, by the way--means that she was lazy and didn't want to do the work it needed. (He's a fine one to talk about this, by the way.) Then, he tells me how HE could fix it. You know, because he's a big, strong man who knows everything by virtue of having a penis. *Eyeroll*
I explain (again) that the bottom bar is supposed to be stationary, and he's all like, "That's poorly done. That's what gets you flunked out of college classes on HTML."
Ok. Number one, HE flunked out of college web design classes. Number two, that's not even HTML. That's Photoshop. Number three, he didn't recognize the difference in Wordpress pages and HTML pages, despite those college web design classes that he, you know, flunked out of. Big hint: The URLs of the HTML pages end in .htm. *Facepalm*
Then, he tells me that I just don't know any better, that she just told me it was intentional to make it easy for herself and overcharge me.
Because, as we all know, I'm too stupid to breathe without him telling me how to do it.
I told him she didn't overcharge me, that, in fact, she undercharged me. And he had the fucking balls to ask how much she charged. I wouldn't tell him simply because it's none of his business, but all the girls she works with get custom Wordpress layouts, HTML page layouts, and site banners for the same price she charges everyone else for JUST the Wordpress layout.
As a matter of fact, when she told me how much it was, I actually offered her more because I felt like I was ripping her off.
But this blog isn't in defense of my designer, who is a wonderful person and whose credentials stand on their own. It's about the fact that NO MATTER WHAT, somebody in my life has to be a critical, hateful asshole.
God forbid he just say, "Oh, that's really nice. You've done a lot of work on the site yourself as far as SEO goes, too. Between what you've done and the new design, once that site hits page one, you're going to get rich," or something like that. I didn't ask his opinion. I just said, "Here, look at this." And, of course, he has to criticize everything, INCLUDING my intelligence.
I'm sick of condescending fucks. I'm tired of people trying to manipulate me to further their own fucking agendas. I'm tired of feeling like a pawn in the chess games of everyone else's lives.
People accuse me of being overly sensitive. Perhaps in some ways I am. But on the other hand, people are fucking nasty to me when there's no need to be, and I'm to the point that I can't handle it without flipping my shit anymore. It hurts me. Why can't people say nice things to me and treat me how they'd like to be treated?
But no. Feel free to just shit on Bunny whenever. She's used to it. *Eyeroll*
In other news, I'm going to try to go home tomorrow. I really don't know that I want to go to that psych appointment Friday. I didn't get an appointment with any of the ones I actually wanted to see, and the lady they've got me seeing specializes in...child psychology. Not bipolar. Not personality disorders. Child psychology. *Sigh* I'm thinking seriously of canceling that one and trying to reschedule with someone else.
I've been stressing really badly. I've chewed the inside of my bottom lip all to pieces, and I still can't stop.
It's gonna get better. It's got to.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Trying To Get My Thoughts Together.
I've got a lot of things to work out in a rather short period of time, all of which are incredibly difficult and incredibly important. I don't even know where to start, to be honest.
It's really hard for me to sleep at night nowadays. My brain keeps me up, churning out thought after thought after thought. What do I do? What do I do? WHAT do I DO?
I'm going back home tomorrow. I've really enjoyed spending time with K. here in Atlanta, but I don't want to become a nuisance. Plus, I have to go to the doctor on Friday. I'm dreading that, and it's partly why I can't sleep well. It's like, I know I need to talk to someone, but the thought is horrifying.
I think tomorrow night, when I get back to my own house and can sleep in my own bed and won't bother anyone else with the weird hours I keep, I'm going to drug myself and see if that makes me feel any better. Like I said, I have a lot of things that need to be worked out in my mind in the next few days, and I need to be as clear-headed as possible while I work on them.
I hope I'll feel up to writing some of this shit out soon. I know it makes me look like the world's biggest exhibitionist, but it makes me feel so much better just to get it out. It helps organize the thoughts some.
And, yes, I'm still hurting from other people hurting. But that's a given, I guess.
I'm going to see if I can shut my brain off and sleep. It's probably a lost cause, but I'm going to try, anyway.
It's really hard for me to sleep at night nowadays. My brain keeps me up, churning out thought after thought after thought. What do I do? What do I do? WHAT do I DO?
I'm going back home tomorrow. I've really enjoyed spending time with K. here in Atlanta, but I don't want to become a nuisance. Plus, I have to go to the doctor on Friday. I'm dreading that, and it's partly why I can't sleep well. It's like, I know I need to talk to someone, but the thought is horrifying.
I think tomorrow night, when I get back to my own house and can sleep in my own bed and won't bother anyone else with the weird hours I keep, I'm going to drug myself and see if that makes me feel any better. Like I said, I have a lot of things that need to be worked out in my mind in the next few days, and I need to be as clear-headed as possible while I work on them.
I hope I'll feel up to writing some of this shit out soon. I know it makes me look like the world's biggest exhibitionist, but it makes me feel so much better just to get it out. It helps organize the thoughts some.
And, yes, I'm still hurting from other people hurting. But that's a given, I guess.
I'm going to see if I can shut my brain off and sleep. It's probably a lost cause, but I'm going to try, anyway.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
This Is Gonna Sound Nuts, But...
...I have something to say.
You've been forewarned that it sounds crazy.
I've experienced a lot of pain in my life. I was born with this sort of deep, inner pain, I guess, that never really goes away. I've been through physical pain, lots of which was pretty rough because injuries are a way of life when you ride horses. I've lived with psychological pain my whole life because people inflict shit on me, and when there's no one around to do it for me, I do it for myself. Same with emotional pain. Then, there's that horrible spiritual pain where EVERYTHING hurts, and nothing you can do will ease it. The physical pain, funnily enough, is the *easiest* to handle.
But all this pales in comparison to psychic pain. It's a deep and empathic hurt that you feel when someone you love is in pain (usually emotional). There's nothing you can do to get away from it because it won't go away until they're happy again. And then it makes you feel like shit that there's nothing you can do for them, which increases your own emotional pain, and it's a vicious cycle from there.
At the moment, I'm feeling all 5. Physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual, and, worst of all, psychic. And the worst part of the worst part is that there's more than one person I love who's suffering inside. And there's really nothing I can do about any of it. And worst of worst of worst, it's all pretty much my fault.
I. Suck.
But in case those people are reading, I feel your pain. Literally.
I never could work miracles
There may be others who can do what I can't do
But no one else could be as good as me
At loving you
You've been forewarned that it sounds crazy.
I've experienced a lot of pain in my life. I was born with this sort of deep, inner pain, I guess, that never really goes away. I've been through physical pain, lots of which was pretty rough because injuries are a way of life when you ride horses. I've lived with psychological pain my whole life because people inflict shit on me, and when there's no one around to do it for me, I do it for myself. Same with emotional pain. Then, there's that horrible spiritual pain where EVERYTHING hurts, and nothing you can do will ease it. The physical pain, funnily enough, is the *easiest* to handle.
But all this pales in comparison to psychic pain. It's a deep and empathic hurt that you feel when someone you love is in pain (usually emotional). There's nothing you can do to get away from it because it won't go away until they're happy again. And then it makes you feel like shit that there's nothing you can do for them, which increases your own emotional pain, and it's a vicious cycle from there.
At the moment, I'm feeling all 5. Physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual, and, worst of all, psychic. And the worst part of the worst part is that there's more than one person I love who's suffering inside. And there's really nothing I can do about any of it. And worst of worst of worst, it's all pretty much my fault.
I. Suck.
But in case those people are reading, I feel your pain. Literally.
I never could work miracles
There may be others who can do what I can't do
But no one else could be as good as me
At loving you
Monday, June 13, 2011
Goal One: Done
I haven't updated in the past couple of days because I've been in Duluth with my friend K. I'm actually still here. I'm going to stay at least tonight and possibly tomorrow. It just depends on if I feel like I'm wearing out my welcome or not, since I've been here since Friday night.
My psychologist's appointment has been acquired. I've got to be in Homewood at 1 on Friday. Apparently, they just pick a psych at random and assign you to him/her, so I didn't get any of the ones I wanted to talk to. But I'll give this one a shot, and if it doesn't work out, then I'll ask to see someone else. There are probably two dozen of them to choose from.
Ok, going to get food. Just wanted to make that small update.
My psychologist's appointment has been acquired. I've got to be in Homewood at 1 on Friday. Apparently, they just pick a psych at random and assign you to him/her, so I didn't get any of the ones I wanted to talk to. But I'll give this one a shot, and if it doesn't work out, then I'll ask to see someone else. There are probably two dozen of them to choose from.
Ok, going to get food. Just wanted to make that small update.
Friday, June 10, 2011
So Here's What I'm Gonna Do
Made a decision today. And, no, it has nothing to do with all the drama and bullshit that's currently going on in my life.
I'm going to find a psychologist.
I liked the therapist I saw in town, but I don't feel comfortable laying my level of crazy on her. I REALLY don't think I could do it. And if I don't feel comfortable being 100% honest with a therapist, then what's the point? I'm wasting my money and both our time, and I'm not going to get any better.
I've been researching online. I'm looking specifically for someone who handles mood disorders and personality disorders. I really don't wanna get slapped with the borderline label--for multiple reasons--but I'm pretty sure that's part of what's going on. And if that be the case, it needs to be addressed to get better.
Of course, there's no one in this town who deals with personality disorders at all that I can find. The closest place I can find is Birmingham. I found good reviews of one place online, so I think I'm going to call there on Monday and ask to see a psychologist--a Ph D., not a counselor--who specializes in mood disorders and concurrent personality disorders. According to their website, they have several, so surely I can get an appointment with ONE of them.
I'm tired of being angry all the time. I'm tired of fucking up everything over and over because of baggage I've been carrying around all my life.
I'll probably never get health insurance again, once they slap me with an Axis II. And it's probably going to be more expensive than God Himself should allow. But I've got a credit card that's basically paid off now. I'll pay for it that way if I have to.
I just don't see the point in living this way anymore if I don't have to.
I'm going to find a psychologist.
I liked the therapist I saw in town, but I don't feel comfortable laying my level of crazy on her. I REALLY don't think I could do it. And if I don't feel comfortable being 100% honest with a therapist, then what's the point? I'm wasting my money and both our time, and I'm not going to get any better.
I've been researching online. I'm looking specifically for someone who handles mood disorders and personality disorders. I really don't wanna get slapped with the borderline label--for multiple reasons--but I'm pretty sure that's part of what's going on. And if that be the case, it needs to be addressed to get better.
Of course, there's no one in this town who deals with personality disorders at all that I can find. The closest place I can find is Birmingham. I found good reviews of one place online, so I think I'm going to call there on Monday and ask to see a psychologist--a Ph D., not a counselor--who specializes in mood disorders and concurrent personality disorders. According to their website, they have several, so surely I can get an appointment with ONE of them.
I'm tired of being angry all the time. I'm tired of fucking up everything over and over because of baggage I've been carrying around all my life.
I'll probably never get health insurance again, once they slap me with an Axis II. And it's probably going to be more expensive than God Himself should allow. But I've got a credit card that's basically paid off now. I'll pay for it that way if I have to.
I just don't see the point in living this way anymore if I don't have to.
Success Is My Only Motherfucking Option, Failure's Not
Look...if you had one shot...one opportunity...to seize everything you ever wanted, one moment...would you capture it, or just let it slip....?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
On Mutiliation
I wish I had the *ability* to write. Not to set forth facts on paper or to describe what's happening right now or what happened in the past, but to make characters, setting, plot, etc. But it's not my talent. I'm constrained by what I know and what I feel and ONLY those things.
Anyway, I've been entertaining interesting thoughts lately. I've been thinking about people who self-injure and what in means in the context of being batshit crazy.
I've always wondered why I don't--and have never--done it. I mean, I get why people do it, and I understand why it's attractive. Cutting, especially. Not in the suicidal sense. There's just something visceral about seeing your own blood well up and flow out of you. I've always thought that.
Don't get me wrong, there are times I've thought of doing it. It happens a lot when I'm stressed or really, really unhappy. I never get any farther than thinking, mind you. I think it's because the mental images my mind's eye conjures up is enough to satisfy that part of me.
It'd have to be on the soft skin of your body, the parts that seem so innocent and defenseless: the insides of your arms, the insides of your thighs, your breasts, underneath your chin, even, if you didn't mind the fact that a slip would probably result in the entirety of your life's blood gushing forth like it's been shot out of a fire hose. It'd have to be a brand-new razor blade. Were I to do this, I'd use a new one every time. I imagine several small, horizontal slices--the blade would be so sharp that it wouldn't even count as cuts--running parallel to one another. Carving great big chunks of flesh out of my skin that leave ugly scars or making suicidal gestures with my cutting holds no appeal to me.
The razor blade would be so sharp that it'd take awhile for the pain to register, if it even did. You see, I don't have much stomach for inflicting pain on myself. I have calcium deposits on my face that need to be cut out, but I don't have anything sharp enough to do it without hurting like a bitch. So there they remain.
For some, it is about pain. For me, it wouldn't be. It'd just be to see the pale, vulnerable flesh cleave and then the rivulets of blood. The sight of it would remind me that there really is a person, something human, there, rather just an anguished mind.
Maybe if you looked close enough, you could see a teeny-tiny bit of your soul eke out and go up to be with its Creator.
Yes, I realize it's fucked up to have those thoughts. But, again, my stomach for personal injury is very low, so there's not much danger of me ever self-inflicting that kind of shit. Also, I don't have any razor blades. So calm down.
In light of that, though, I'm convinced that my interest in BDSM/kink is not entirely healthy. Particularly in the ways that I play when I get on a masochistic kick. I'm not really a spank me and then put your dick in my ass kind of girl. Never was. But in my old age, I find myself moving farther and farther away from "conventional" kink. Somehow, I find it too clinical, too far detached, too distant from real human emotion. I need something more immediate, more intimate, and more brutal than cruel. You do know the difference, yes?
Then, there's the emotionally masochistic side of me that aches from the abuses heaped on me, but still goes back to lick the hand that broke me, to beg for more. I hate it, but I need it, more than I even need to breathe sometimes.
But these are the things that chain the inner demons. If they don't quiet the screaming inside, they at least drown it out for awhile. There's calm after the storm, at least for a little while.
So why should I do this myself when others do it to me so much better? *Sad smile*
Anyway, I've been entertaining interesting thoughts lately. I've been thinking about people who self-injure and what in means in the context of being batshit crazy.
I've always wondered why I don't--and have never--done it. I mean, I get why people do it, and I understand why it's attractive. Cutting, especially. Not in the suicidal sense. There's just something visceral about seeing your own blood well up and flow out of you. I've always thought that.
Don't get me wrong, there are times I've thought of doing it. It happens a lot when I'm stressed or really, really unhappy. I never get any farther than thinking, mind you. I think it's because the mental images my mind's eye conjures up is enough to satisfy that part of me.
It'd have to be on the soft skin of your body, the parts that seem so innocent and defenseless: the insides of your arms, the insides of your thighs, your breasts, underneath your chin, even, if you didn't mind the fact that a slip would probably result in the entirety of your life's blood gushing forth like it's been shot out of a fire hose. It'd have to be a brand-new razor blade. Were I to do this, I'd use a new one every time. I imagine several small, horizontal slices--the blade would be so sharp that it wouldn't even count as cuts--running parallel to one another. Carving great big chunks of flesh out of my skin that leave ugly scars or making suicidal gestures with my cutting holds no appeal to me.
The razor blade would be so sharp that it'd take awhile for the pain to register, if it even did. You see, I don't have much stomach for inflicting pain on myself. I have calcium deposits on my face that need to be cut out, but I don't have anything sharp enough to do it without hurting like a bitch. So there they remain.
For some, it is about pain. For me, it wouldn't be. It'd just be to see the pale, vulnerable flesh cleave and then the rivulets of blood. The sight of it would remind me that there really is a person, something human, there, rather just an anguished mind.
Maybe if you looked close enough, you could see a teeny-tiny bit of your soul eke out and go up to be with its Creator.
Yes, I realize it's fucked up to have those thoughts. But, again, my stomach for personal injury is very low, so there's not much danger of me ever self-inflicting that kind of shit. Also, I don't have any razor blades. So calm down.
In light of that, though, I'm convinced that my interest in BDSM/kink is not entirely healthy. Particularly in the ways that I play when I get on a masochistic kick. I'm not really a spank me and then put your dick in my ass kind of girl. Never was. But in my old age, I find myself moving farther and farther away from "conventional" kink. Somehow, I find it too clinical, too far detached, too distant from real human emotion. I need something more immediate, more intimate, and more brutal than cruel. You do know the difference, yes?
Then, there's the emotionally masochistic side of me that aches from the abuses heaped on me, but still goes back to lick the hand that broke me, to beg for more. I hate it, but I need it, more than I even need to breathe sometimes.
But these are the things that chain the inner demons. If they don't quiet the screaming inside, they at least drown it out for awhile. There's calm after the storm, at least for a little while.
So why should I do this myself when others do it to me so much better? *Sad smile*
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