Monday, October 26, 2009

So we lie here in the dark

And here we are, once again.

Dear Universe,
Did you hear me? Should I ask louder?

Am I selfish? I don't know.
The rain isn't really helping.

Even when there is so much change, there is still none.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Oh, please.

You're not as cool as you think you are.
And for the record, I never said I was fucking awesome, either. If you actually took the time to get to know me, you'd know I don't think too highly of myself. So, either you can back off, or you can keep on telling me you don't like me, even though it won't change anything.

By the way, as long as we're being honest and you're telling me how much you don't like me as a person and that I'm so damn annoying, I'm just gonna let you know that I think you're so fucking self righteous. You're not cool, either. You're not any more kind than I. You're not any less opinionated than I.
Go fuck yourself.

In other news, nothing has changed. My life is pretty boring, right? It's pretty lame, too. Not much of a social life.
Great. Love this.

God. This is what makes me want to move away and meet better people. Too bad I'm not fearless.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Thursday, October 22, 2009

LOLOL Calum Mitchell, you're so dumb.

And my darling spouse Anne handled it for me.
Oh, how I love hate messages. Ze hate messages, zey makes mee haw haw.

BTW, this kid is from Scotland so I don't know where he gets the idea he can say "nigga" and get away with it. Asshole.

(Click the photo to make it larger... and then read my conversation with Anne.)

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Read: Usually

Sometimes, I feel like you don't give a fuck even when you say you do.
You tell me you genuinely care, and you use a tone in your voice that is supposed to make me believe you, and all I hear is, "I'm not ever going to change."

It's not working.

It's not working.
"Sorry" doesn't mean what it used to mean.
"I love you" doesn't mean what it used to mean.
To me "I'm sorry" means, I DID NOT realize at the time that this would hurt/upset/cause stress for you and I regret that it happened and I will do my best to not do this thing again.
Stop telling me you're sorry. I don't want to hear it. Especially if you aren't going to fix it.

I'm tired.

I feel really really obese today.

Like, a gorilla. Or a whale. Take your pick.

TRUTH side note:
I kind of want to tear you a new asshole. I feel so much more mature than you, even though you're older.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Calling out into the darkness.

My mother has been "spending the night" at new boyfriends house almost every night she can (meaning, every night that leads to a day off of work.) I have been sleeping in an empty house. I guess this is good practice.

On another note:
Where are you? What are you doing? Why don't I hear from you? You're forgetting me and there's nothing I can do about it. Or maybe, you're not forgetting, you're just avoiding. But in any case, there's nothing I can do about it. There's nothing I can do about it. This will probably generate a call from you, or a small message on my facebook wall. A text. Maybe a message via facebook private messaging system. But it really isn't much. Because I know the words you say are empty. And maybe they're not empty. Maybe they are so full but you are empty. And there's nothing you will do about it. And there's nothing you can do about it. And there's nothing I can do about it. Not even this.

I'm done with that problem now. I am done. I am done. More done than that overcooked quail my father cooked me. More done than a wall that has been painted over seven times. More done than I am with kindergarten, elementary school, junior high and senior high school. More done than I am of wanting to talk to people I knew way back when. More done than I am of trying to please people and tend to their needs rather than my own. Overdone.

It may not look it (because this blog was made to complain about myself), but I am pretty gah damn self sacrificing. I don't talk to a lot of people about they way I feel because I am busy trying to put on a front and make them think that EVERYTHING IS OKAY because I want them to feel better about whatever problem has arisen in their life. But the truth is, after I help everyone, after I listen to excuse after excuse (I have heard almost all of them before, and the ones I haven't heard, I can pretty much see through them), after SITTING ALONE EVERY DAY WATCHING THE TELEVISION WITH NO ONE TO FUCKING TALK TO AND NOT USING MY VOICE IN WHAT FEELS LIKE AGES BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ANYONE FUCKING THERE, I am left... so ragged. So tired and worn, like a pair of your favorite jeans that are starting to fray where they scrap the concrete because they're too long. I am so so tired.
I hate it all.
I am second best. I am THIRD best.
Why can I not be first best? THE best?
"Oh, and you're third, Morgan," he said to me, like it was nothing at all. Being third (and a half, because number two was a shared spot) on his list of best buddies was nothing at all. (I wasn't expecting number one anyway; I never have been)
This isn't what I am zeroing in on. It's just what made me realize that I am not number one--not even in my own mind-- and have never BEEN number one.
Fucking being number one on HIS list of friends. That's not what matters the most. It hurt being third at first, and then I realized, he's not even third on mine.

I am so pathetic. That being said, I will now be even more pathetic. This is my call to the universe. It WILL be heard.
ONE DAY, I WILL BE NUMBER ONE ON SOMEONE'S LIST. I will matter most people-wise (because I know careers are important, too.). This person will genuinely care about me and do something about it (continually if it happens more than once, which it won't). He will help me pick myself off the floor for the first time, and tie on my combat boots. I will be fearless for both him and myself. He will take everyone else's needs out of my mind and replace it with his kindness and concern and helpfulness. He will replace everyone else's needs with his needs, which I will return because that's what people do for their number one's. This number one will be the best person I know, and I will be the best person I can be and have ever been for him. This number one will have a nice job that he adores. If it takes him around the world, so be it, because my career will allow me to travel with him. And my number one will request that I do travel with him, because I am their number one. My number one won't care that I look like I am being treated with chemo-therapy when I take my makeup off, because he will think I am beautiful no matter what. He will tell me I am wrong about the way I look without makeup because he will make me FEEL BEAUTIFUL, and not just by telling me. It will radiate from him. He will be so nice and so sincere. He will be honest with me. He will make me laugh and hold my hand just because he feels like it. He will insist upon taking me to fancy restaurants every once and a while even though I tell him he doesn't need to just to prove anything. And he will tell me he's not trying to prove anything and it will be true. He will BE THERE for me and I will be there for him. I will be number one on his list. I will be number one on someone's list.

Photo cred: Keltie Colleen's blog.

Also, pleasefindthis has been posting some excellent pieces lately. Please find them.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Why am I thinking about this?

I am a masochist. I am rereading the Twilight saga and slogging through it. I am putting off reading Breaking Dawn because Smeyer ruined Jacob for me. Seriously. The whole series is so creepy. Like, Edward is near to being an abusive, overbearing boyfriend who is creepy toward Bella, Bella is an idiot who is every single stereotype about women since the dawn of time who is creepy about Edward, and then about Jacob, and then creepy about both of them. Jacob is creepy about his love of Bella and ends up saying creepy things to her, much like Edward does to Bella and vice versa. And then. The big kahoona. I was team Jake until Jacob a) became creepier and more moody (from becoming a werewolf.. even though I knew it would happen IN THE FIRST BOOK OH MY GOD, SMEYER) and b) IMPRINTED ON BELLA'S NEWBORN BABY. THIS CREEPFEST GETS CREEPIER BY THE SECOND. Ugh ugh ugh. Why am I doing this to myself? Anyway. This was not supposed to be about this ridiculous saga.

I talked to my friend Anne about the idea of vampires. How strange they are.

It could go two ways: I can follow the traditional vampire legends, sleeping in my coffin for years and coming back out into a new world; or the vampires of Stephanie Meyer's world, never sleeping, never truly resting. But either way, I do not get tired. I do not need to change my stance or posture, for it never becomes uncomfortable. I am strong. I am durable. I see what human's cannot. I hear what human's cannot. I am impossibly fast. My insides are grayed in color. I feel like they should be dusty from being unused for so long. I feel like they wouldn't be covered in blood like a mortal's. My heart does not beat. I am dead.

So so so strange.

PS, in honor of my vampire related blog, two vampires based off the OG of vampire fiction: Lestat from Anne Rice's novels-turned-films, Interview with the Vampire and Queen of the Damned. First, we have the original Lestat portrayed by Tom Cruise (less cute but with alright acting skills), and then the second Lestat from QofD, played by Stuart Townsend. I liked Stuart more than Tom because he was way cuter and made pale very very sexy, however, his acting was pretty lame. Oh well. I forgive him. The soundtrack was amazing.

Okay. I'm done.
Time to jump off a cliff, LOLZ!
If you feel like lawling, go read these chapter by chapter Twilight saga reviews.