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Mab Zilla

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Thoughts at four in the morning... [10 Aug 2011|03:40am]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

The good Samaritan was was my favourite bible story. In my mind he stood for everything that I thought religion should teach- altruism, compassion, underlying karma and a will to help mankind. The notion that we are all God's children and every person on this earth deserves help when they need it, food and shelter when they have none and someone, anyone, to take care of them when they're hurt.
I remember being confused and upset when I started primary school and started being taught to never talk to strangers. I thought Well that doesn't seem right, if the Good Samaritan hadn't talked to strangers, that man would have died... I remember being sad that if we were all taught to never talk to each other, how would we make friends? What if there was someone who needed help and we just rode past like the other people that ignored the hurt man in the story?
Now I wonder if America's take on things like homelessness, hunger, poverty... Things that we easily turn the other cheek to... I often wonder if the reason we don't stop to help is because we were taught never to speak to strangers. And I wonder if sometime, if someone were to break the trend and actually reach out to help a fellow child of God... Maybe there would be less suffering in the world...

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Well here's your problem... [07 Aug 2011|03:39am]
[ mood | WOAH ]

If you have three or more of the mania symptoms below most of the day -- nearly every day -- for one week or longer, you may be having a manic episode of bipolar disorder:

Excessive happiness, hopefulness, and excitement
I cannot stop smiling. My life is amazing, I have everything I need and I have the capacity to get the things I want.
Sudden changes from being joyful to being irritable, angry, and hostile
The kids piss me off, I wish they'd shut up. I hate it here, I just want to be with my family but all these morons are around me! I hate them
Restlessness, increased energy, and less need for sleep
It's three thirty in the morning. I just don't get tired anymore.
Rapid talk, talkativeness
Today was a good day at work, people came in and they were nice for the most part and everyone is really easy to talk to
I was working on learning photoshop but then I remembered porn and after that I started looking up all the -philias and then all the -phobias (because for some reason they remind me of each other) and finding the latin roots of words...
Racing thoughts
Like hemophobia is the fear of blood but hemophilia is a disease of the blood which makes me wonder what the word is for a sexual attraction to blood is. I don't like blood, it makes my skin crawl to think about. I also don't like zombies. They're gross. their blood doesn't flow though, I suppose it just kinda sits there curdling. Curdling is a funny word. like hurdling only completely different-
High sex drive
hee, -philia means sexual attraction. I noticed today when I customer said "You'd better." to me that I seem to over-sexualize everything in my mind- holy shit I love sex!
Tendency to make grand and unattainable plans
I love sex with both of my boys, I'm going to keep both of them and nothing will go wrong. I'll go to school sometime (soon, not sure when) and we're gonna sell the house and live somewhere other than here! I have a group of friends again and we all like each other-
Tendency to show poor judgment, such as deciding to quit a job
-and I'll have lots of time to hang out with them because I quit my job three times in the past month!
Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity -- unrealistic beliefs in one's ability, intelligence, and powers; may be delusional
But it'll be alright because I have the perfect combination of cute and smart to get me into (and out of) absolutely anything. Nothing can hurt me and everything will work for the best because I'm fucking awesome and thats how its gonna go.
Increased reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions)
Fuck that job, I'd be so much happier getting new art supplies and using photoshop every day. And playing on the computer and thinking about school and- ooh I'll have to get new clothes if I go to school, so I can be cute and everyone will think I'm cute.It bothers me a little sometimes how textbook-crazy I am but fuck if I'm worried about that, let's go get drunk!

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Oh... Her... [14 Jun 2011|01:10am]
Your heart is breaking. And I can't do anything for you. I just sit here crying over my own stupid problems that I could probably do something about if I wasn't so preoccupied with being upset over them. In the meantime, I can feel your misery, from a thousand miles away, and I'm going to reassure you because -grinding teeth- thats... what... friends... do...

We done? Disclaimer and all? Yeah? Not a bad person?
FUCKING HELL what do you see in her?? Its not that I want her to be me, that's not it. I love you and youre my friend but you know I don't see you like that. At least I hope you do. And I can't say anything because "Ooooh, she just wants him, she's jealous-" FUCK that noise! I want you to be with someone you can feel. Someone you can close your eyes and think about and then they call you, someone that gets you and loves you for what you are- ALL of what you are and not what you pretend to be when other people are around!
I want you to be with someone that doesnt play stupid emotional mind games and change her mind every fucking week whether she wants to be with you or not. You deserve someone stable. You deserve someone on your level (You deserve someone pretty for fuck's sake- that's right, totally went there), and you deserve... To have a friend like me... Elmer's glue at the ready... So what've you got this time...
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[10 Jun 2011|07:12pm]
[ mood | artistic ]

I saw a starving person today. Literally. Her legs were thinner than my wrists. And I'm not a very thick person to begin with. I was absolutely horrified to see her. She was walking on the side of the road with a man, both were obviously homeless- dirty, ragged, very tan, miserable-looking... And even in all my cynicism I wanted to pull over and feed this poor woman. Like I cannot believe she's standing, I had never seen a person this thin. I mean I'd seen pictures, holocaust photos and pictures of bulemic chicks in textbooks but... Holy shit, to see it in person... I don't know how she was able to walk.
I felt a sudden intense respect for my sister, who is studying to get her med/psych degree specializing in eating disorders and spends her every weekend volunteering at homeless shelters and raising money to feed the needy. It strikes me as very noble of her, making it her goal in life to feed the world- or at least the metropolitan area.
It was just a really shocking look at poverty that I wasnt expecting. And it suddenly inspired me to work on my life's goal, which, while not as noble, is still important to me...

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Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part. [06 Jun 2011|01:14pm]
I'm getting tired of this shit. Yeah, its cool of Mike and Sarah to take me in, and JJ and Lily for that matter. But Mike's starting to behave like Beth. Yeah, I said it. And what.
He makes plans thinking "Oh, I'll just have JJ take care of all my responsibilities" and then gets in a pissy mood when JJ actually has the balls this time to say "No, actually I had plans." And theyre not even frivolous plans. They are "Mab has to go to the doctor" plans. Suddenly Mike's all up in arms cause he has to man up and take his own four children into consideration when he makes plans.
Granted, his plans are for an interview. Thats an important thing. But okay lets say he gets the job. Who the hell's he think is gonna watch all his kids while he's working? Us? Fuck that, soon as either of us get -any- kinda money we're fuckin OUTA here.

It bothers me that JJ lets himself be used like this. He's been doing dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, taking care of children for over a year now. And mike's been going to Trish's house and fuckin around on the back porch, snapping at any children that get in his way. Honestly, if you're gonna be such a dick to your children maybe you should stop trying to have them. You've had two in the past year and a half. You don't seem to -like- any of them. I know Mike loves his kids but I've seen him spend time with one of them once since I been here. Maybe I missed a few days of father-son bonding but I mean... Really?

I like that we're leaving for two days and letting Mike work out his own issues by his damn self. I'm afraid it might get lost on him though cause all he'll probably do is bitch at his wife (speak of the devil) and resent us for dodging "our" responsibilities to his household by taking me to the doctors ive been needing to see for almost 5 years now. Yeah, times are tough, money is tight, I get that. But did you not think JJ and I have a life we wanted to start? That didn't start here? You depend too heavily on us. I know Sarah just gave birth (not my problem) and I know you didn't talk to us about our plans before you included us in yours (hey guess what, also not my problem) but we have shit to do too. If I cancel these appointments (or even move them) I have to pay for them twice. And I cant even afford to pay for them once. Fuck you, fuck your terribly behaved children, fuck your plans, fuck your god complex and the mini van full of carseats and cigar butts you rode in on.

p.s. Your problems are not your childrens fault. The fact that you're in a bad mood should not reflect directly on how shitty you treat your kids today. They are not dogs. You can't just lock them in the playroom when you want them out of the way. They're people.

Well fuck, now that we're about to sell the house im in a much better mood. Will continue rant later.
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I'm gonna have to take this jacket off eventually... [25 May 2011|05:06am]
[ mood | relaxed ]

I dunno why I just cant stay still.
I have an mri tomorrow on my shoulder, hopefully i'll learn whats wrong with it and how to treat it. JJ is sleeping peacefully, I'm rather hungry but the left corner of my mouth has broken skin on it and it keeps scabbing and i keep picking at it. Stupid ball gag. I know it may not make sense to the manufacturer, i know the point of a gag is discomfort but I only get off on being hurt -during sex-. Afterwards I dont want to have to remember it every time I try to open my mouth. I suppose I'll make an actual effort to sleep now instead of just reading and procrastinating.
I just got this wave of tired. Not tired.. comfy. at-ease.. Mek must be back. yes thats what it is. im suddenly very compelled to go get in bed. Thats his doing. I like having presence that nudges me in the right direction. Kinda like a gaurdian angel only instead of an angel its self-serving dark thing that only wants me safe so he can toy with me later. Sometimes I wonder which side of that line I'm on. You know, the one between highly sensitive to the metaphysical and batshit fucking insane.

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[23 May 2011|11:19am]
So recently my shoulder has been absolutely killing me. At first it was just irritating that an old untreated injury from 200-fucking-7 was getting sore again, but this time it got so intense i could barely move it and the muscle swelling was pinching a nerve causing my last 3 fingers to tingle.
I (finally) went to a doctor for it and she gave me an anti inflammatory and some flexeril for it. She also gave me a sheet with some exercises I can do for it to improve.

I start my new job this week. Im kinda nervous about it but excited too. I hope my arm is feeling better by the time I start. The Dr said I was gonna get an MRI of my shoulder to see whats wrong and in the meantime not do any of the things I do every day to hurt it- picking up children, reaching to put heavy things on top shelves in the kitchen, basically anything that involves weight against my shoulder... ugh.
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[22 Apr 2011|01:01am]
She told me I should write here when I was angry or depressed. Try to sot out my thoughts, figure out whats really bothering me.
My dreams are so violent. Blood and loss and internal conflict. It makes me afraid to sleep. I should talk about Justin. I dont understand why this anger is still so present. Probably because I try to bottle it up. I know enough about the nature of the disorder but nowhere can I find ways to deal with it. I feel like life is going nowhere again. To combat that I'm trying so hard to find work and save money to get a place of my own with JJ. I really do love him. But I digress. Justin. I... Wow I really dont even want to talk about it here. I try to avoid it. always. I would like to talk to him sometime. Tell him how he's impacted my every day, that while he was in prison I spent a good portion of every day jumping at sudden movements and not knowing who to trust. I used to be so trusting. Now I treat everyone as a possible enemy. I never feel safe. I hate change, I hate new things. I hate showering with someone else because of the way he would criticize everything I did, the way I looked, the way I washed my hair. Seriously? I was never good enough for him and now I think I'm not good enough for anything. I get so easily discouraged because Im so afraid of overstepping a line and making someone angry. The first time I went out with Justin and his family we had dinner at the Evergreen Buffet- a Chinese place in the strip by my moms house. I'd felt good about how the night went, enjoyable conversation, his stepdad was very friendly (much more so than his mom). At the end of the night I asked Justin "D'you think they like me arright?" He told me I did ok but "You talk too much". I rarely speak in company now.
What can I do to make myself feel safe? I always have my phone with me, because of that night. I dont want to talk about that night yet. I dont remember too much of it anyway. bits and pieces very vividly and then hours are just... gone.
I'm gonna turn into one of those people that goes to work and then comes home and stays in her room all the time because its the only place she feels safe- hell I already am that girl only now I'm not working so.. Really I just kinda sit around avoiding everything. I know I shouldn't. But when I try to go be social I feel like I'm in the way. I havent really done much with Mike and Sarah since I got here. Most of the projects that need to be done are one-or-two person jobs. When its one person theres no room for me, when its two usually its JJ helping mike and I'm just in the way. Am I in the way? I sure feel like it a lot... JJ says Its all in my head. I should try to work on that. Im just.. why am I so nervous all the time??

-gets distracted-
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[15 Mar 2011|04:27pm]
[ mood | irritated ]

Well I at least made an effort to be mature. I'm sick of being unable to talk about my our daughter's future because no one can get over the bullshit that happened almost three years ago. I hate it that Lily has functioning communicating parents while Layla's future is up in the air because we can never god damn talk without a fight. Isn't it about time to just put all the past bullshit behind us and try to be actual god damn adults about something this important?

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A story inside a story inside my head. [11 Mar 2011|01:45am]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

Daryn fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. The old radio in the corner spat and sputtered with static as it pushed out a lonely love song. Daryn bit the inside of his cheek, picking up his pencil and letting his hand move freely across the page. What is the nature of things, he wondered. If he were to draw a kitten, (he sketched absently as he thought) is he the one giving it existence? life? Essentially he had created it. He could give it a comfy bed (he drew pillows and toys around the little kitten) a nice home... He could make it happy. Or he could draw the same kitten cold and alone on the street (he drew a window in the background, showing a rainy road outside) with no one to love him. Would he, as the artist, be at fault for what happened to this kitten he had granted existence? Would it be accepted as something that was supposed to happen, or had already happened? But, he thought, (pausing to shade the pillows a little, casting a dim light on the room he'd created) it would be so easy to give every sketch comfort or love or safety... How selfish would he be to draw that kitten, instead of in his warm bed, out on his own? It really made no difference to Daryn, he was only drawing to waste time and keep in practice. A sketch is a sketch, regardless of where the subject ends up. Is his drawn kitten a real thing? with feelings and emotions? Certainly not, it was only a drawing after all. But within the realm of the drawing itself was another world. A world that is very real to its inhabitants just like this world is real to us. In that sense would he be in the wrong for giving this kitten misfortunes even for the sake of art or to prove a larger point? How must that feel to the kitten?
It occurred to him that if this was the way he was going to think, then it was quite possible that he, Daryn, was in fact the object of someone's imaginings. That his life, his happiness might be in the control of some other artist or playwright or storyteller, or even some insane person who created a world to make himself less lonely. That everything in his life, every decision, every acquaintance... every death? Might be controlled by the whim or the mood or the "message" of someone or something else? He wondered what kind of story his would be. What language it would be told in, and what message an artist would try to give some audience by the telling of his life. He darkened the walls around the kitten, keeping him safely inside in his bed. Even if my life is just a sketch, he thought darkly, I will make my own happy in case, just in case, there was something to be held with his thoughts, he would make sure that the stories he created were happy, comfortable. Not this lonely game of a life he led. It's not so bad, he thought. At least he had Ravyn to tell. He couldn't imagine living out high school without his sister. She was the only one that listened to his thoughts, whether they be musings about the lives and mentalities of others or crazy circular theories like this. He imagined he might be quite different if he hadn't had her. As quiet and thoughtful as Daryn was, Ravyn offset him almost perfectly by being headstrong and outspoken enough for the both of them. He smiled, remembering times when she'd stood up for him, "You need to grow a spine, little bro," she'd always say even though they both knew he was two minutes older. She poked fun at him but it was always good natured. He wondered sometimes if the two of them weren't meant to be born as one person. Both were normal sized, Daryn maybe being even taller for his age than normal. But their personalities only worked when they were together. Daryn being quiet and quick to get upset, and Ravyn being strong-willed but level-headed.
Sometime during his musings, the bell must have rung. Soon his classmates were pouring into the room from lunch (he'd always ate by himself in class, he didn't care for the other students yelling and chasing and carrying on. That was much more Ravyn's crowd). Among his classmates in this particular lecture was a small girl torn jeans and a purple jacket. Her pink earphones were barely visible under her shock of white hair that fell almost to her shoulders. She took a desk ahead of Daryn, one row to the right just like always. Pushing her books under her chair, she shook her head to clear her bangs from in front of her bright blue eyes. She caught his eye and smiled, making him very nervous. He quickly busied himself getting his papers in order for class to start. If Ravyn were here she'd elbow him in the ribs and tell him to go talk to her at the end of class. But thankfully Ravyn had chemistry this hour. This, he thought, might be the one thing he never did tell his twin.

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My FUCKING shoulder hurts! [14 Feb 2011|04:04am]
[ mood | Hate ]

Nothing says "Happy Valentines Day" like the burning pain I still get in my shoulder from the time I jumped out of your car to get away from you. I hope you get extra-raped today in prison. a=And I really hope they tear your deltoid. And dislocate your jaw. And give you two black eyes for every one you gave me.

It kills me that I still think about you almost every day. Every time someone takes an unexpected route while I'm riding shotgun, every time someone tells me to "relax", every time I smell liquor or even scratch a cat under its chin. I wonder how much more confident I would be if it weren't for you. I would stand up for myself more I think. Because I wouldn't have the thought no, you'll get hit for that. I'd definitely wake up in less discomfort- my shoulder really does ache sometimes. Maybe I'd even stop having nightmares. But there's no changing what's happened. Only to rise above and move on. I could spend hours, days even, thinking of all the things you did to me and how they still affect me today. Or I could spend probably a lot less time accepting what has happened and knowing you're getting what you deserve. But its hard to have that kind of closure when you really didn't get anything from me. It was sheer luck that you were imprisoned for something completely unrelated to what you did to me. And I'm thankful for that girl's parents getting you put away- I really am. I wouldn't mind if you died in there. Actually I'd be quite relieved and maybe even throw a party where everyone chews on the ice and eats all their food except that very last bite. -smirk-
I still do both of those things. And think of you every time I do. Its little things like that I wish I could get away from. Hearing your voice in my mind saying "Becky chewed ice when she was pregnant- it was so annoying!"
You degraded me in every way you could think of. You pushed me down when I was happy and you hit me in front of my fucking friends. And for that I will never forgive you. Yes, I'm still angry- I probably will be forever. But can you fucking blame me? I've been living with fear. Real, gripping, para-fucking-lyzing fear over nothing! I know you can't get me. and I know the people I choose to surround myself with now wouldn't even dream of doing some of the things to me that you did on a weekly basis. How insulted they must be every time they wave and I flinch. How awkward it must be for someone to yell near me and then notice I'm shaking. I wish I could say I wanted to confront this and overcome it but I know deep down that's not true. I want to forget. I want to not know who you are anymore, I don't want to "man up" I don't want to face my fears. I faced you. And every time I did I landed on the floor at your feet crying. With a bruised eye and your voice filling my ears, "Get up!" you'd always say, "Get the fuck up!"
I wish I could say I wanted to get out of this hole you put me in. But my fear just wants to dig deeper, to hide somewhere that the memories will never find me. I can't talk to anyone because there's no one to tell. Everyone close to me will hear the things you did and the way I still feel and they'll react. They'll be horrified, angry, completely at a loss of why I didn't leave you. I don't want their pity. I dont want them to be angry at you. I really just want someone to wipe away my tears and tell me I'm safe now. That memories can only do as much harm as I let them. That what happened to me wasn't fair and it wasn't my fault but I've grown from it.
But they just flinch when I tell them. Like they dont want to hear it. Or they get angry which just makes me feel like its okay to live in anger at what you did. And they always say something like "well why didn't you leave him?" which makes it feel like my fault. I don't know why I didn't leave you, I guess I stupidly believed that I could help you. That you were better than what you became when you were drunk. And that maybe deep down you really did love me and you were just calling out for help.
The (small, quiet) altruistic side of me wants you to learn from your years in prison. To come out a new man, genuinely sorry for the lives you ruined (because there was more than one). But the (much stronger, angrier) bitter part of me wants you to die of internal bleeding from being beaten in the showers. Cold and naked, vulnerable like you made me. And alone. There is no one that loves you. And you have no one to blame but yourself.
I hate the anger you bring about in me. I've never felt this about anything else. Raw, unbridled, rage. I hate that I can't forget. I hate that the only way to get rid of this fear, this anger, is to talk about it- yes, lets talk about what happened- I don't want to! Because I'm not comfortable curling into a ball in a psychologist's office crying and shaking! I haven't felt safe- truly and completely safe in years! I haven't trusted another person in fucking. Years. I dunno if I ever will! Instead I put on a brave face and jump from person to person in life thinking that they will protect me if I'm alone and scared. But I can't even fully trust the person I recruit to save me. Because you were close to me once. And you put me in the hospital. I vaguely remember you saying you were trying to help me. You really didn't succeed. Actually you pretty much destroyed every social and behavioural perception I have. And every time I make a move out of fear, or worry, or this constant need to watch my back... I'm forced to think of you. And how you made me this way. Is that how you were planning on helping? To condition me to fear the world? To feel trapped by this gripping fear that I can't let anyone know I still carry with me? Is this what it was like when you were growing up? When your father would get drunk and beat you? Do you remember how scared you were? Or how comforted and uplifted you were when you came to school looking like a fucking earthquake victim? Do you remember that? We were outside the cafeteria and I had wrapped ice cubes in napkins to put on your eye because it was swelling shut. And you said no one had ever cared for you like that. Do you remember how angry I was that your dad- someone who was supposed to love and support you- could do this to you? That's how everyone around me feels about you. Only when I went to school with black eyes I had no Mab to hug me and tell me to be strong. You took away comfort. You took away trust. You took away my graduation. I didn't take my robe off at graduation because I didn't want my family to see the bruises. You made my life a hiding game. Hiding and waiting for you to decide I'd done something wrong. You wouldn't let me go home, I just wanted to go home. I was getting in so much trouble for staying out so late, why didn't you care? I stood up for you when you were the one person that hurt me the most. I told people they were wrong about you, that you really did love me and that I wasn't giving up on you. I lied for you almost every day. I did everything I fucking could for you- Why? I don't understand! Why does any person deserve to be treated like you treated me? I know this wasn't my fault but it must have been! How can any human do that to another human if they didn't truly believe the other one deserved it? At least in the holocaust they fell back on the paradox of orders, but you... I don't know what you think I did to deserve this much pain. It's been almost four years. Four years and my shoulder still aches, my jaw clicks and crunches when I yawn. I startle out of near-sleep at least three times every night because my mind just will not let me feel safe. And now I take out my fears on everyone around me. I use people, I disregard what they want for fear of letting someone control me again. I don't want anyone too close but at the same time I'm crying inside because I just want to be able to trust. I want to stop smiling when I think about all the ways you could die. It scares me. It really fucking does. I've never really truly hated before. The things I want to happen to you could wake Frank Miller in a cold sweat. I just want these feelings to go away. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm so sick of jumping at every quick movement, sick of wanting to hide when people are angry. I want to feel safe in my own home. With my own friends. With my own life.
It's four in the morning. My heart is pounding, the refrigerator clicked and I jumped about a foot in the air. The medicine makes my body sleepy but my mind is racing until the moment I'm asleep. Then the nightmares. People chasing me, people and things I care about being destroyed right in front of me. I guess your innermost feelings really come to life when you sleep. I'll wake up fucking terrified</i> sometimes. It makes it hard to want to sleep.
I was ready for bed at two. But my shoulder started burning and it triggered this. This is what happens in my head when I think of you. And as much as I hhhate to say it- I think of you quite often. Because I associate you with fear. And I'm scared all... The fucking... Time.
I don't know where to go from here. My mental wellbeing is really starting to fall apart. And while it's probably due to a lot of different stressors in my life, I can trace every single one of them back. To you.
Someday, if I wait long enough, someday I will be able to tell this to someone. And I'll be comforted. And I'll get stronger. And I may even come to understand and forgive you. But that day is not today. My hatred is as strong now as it has ever been. So happy Valentine's day you miserable fuck. I hope you die.

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I know its you that's doing this... [02 Feb 2011|10:56am]
[ mood | shaken ]

He's going to kill me
I have to kill him first
get him alone
Do I have a weapon?
Three straight pins?
You gotta be kidding me
Okay, I can work with this
Sneaky sneaky
Slit his throat with them
Well that didnt work.
"No, you have to do it nine times"
slash slash slash
blood on my hands
slash slash slash
he's still now, might be dead
slash slash slash
well I'm glad thats over
the blood is everywhere
One down
Three to go

Mother FUCK I have some weird-ass dreams.

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Love letters you'll never see... [19 Jan 2011|07:52pm]
[ mood | loved ]

I've stopped even trying to remember
if I've told you all these little details about me
or if you just somehow know
that I don't like dry foods
that Strawberries are my favourite
that I love with when you bite my lip.
I don't know how you can write something to me
and then say "love you too"
when I only thought it.
I don't know how you know what movies I like
before I even watch them.
And I can never figure out
how you know what I'm thinking
just by the way I smile.
But I do know what you would say
if I asked you...


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An adventure in my mind... [03 Jan 2011|06:31pm]
[ mood | pensive ]

There is nothing all around me. Like the matrix, only everything is dark instead of white. I cast my eyes around trying to find something, anything, whatever's there. On the ground a few feet away from me I notice a rock about half the size of my head. I pick it up and begin to examine it. Feeling it, running my hands over the rough grey parts and (reluctantly) over the slimy green stuff that had started to grown on it. I smell the rock, it's dank, musty. Like wet dirt. I run my finger over it and lick my finger. sandy. but also bitter. The rock moves a little, I don't startle but hold onto it, waiting to see what happens. It unfolds into a small tortoise. Not a rock at all but a shell. I smile as he pokes his head out, reaching with one finger to pet its head. He snaps at my finger, sinking a pointy beak into my flesh. I feel the sting all the way up my arm and yank my hand back. I put the turtle gently on the ground where I found it and look at my bleeding finger. The blood is warm, my finger throbbing as it drips down my hand.
While I was playing the the rock/turtle the world around me has started to become clearer. I'm in a wooded area. No underbrush but lots of trees. It reminds me of the mountains in North Carolina, the ones I try to bring myself to when I need to think. These are different though. I reach into my pocket with my non-injured hand looking for something to wrap my finger in. I'm not sure what it was that I found, a small cloth of a piece of gauze. My finger bleeds through but I keep walking. I come upon a shallow stream, the water is clear. Avoiding any tortoise-sized rocks I unwrap my finger and touch the cold water. Blood flows out of my finger creating two streams of red in the water- one for each puncture. The water feels good, so good that I dont even notice something coming upstream towards me. Nor do I feel the pain this time when it snaps my finger clean off.
No blood this time. I must have actually fallen asleep.

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A fucking pizza box... [18 Dec 2010|07:34pm]
[ mood | apathetic ]

Old-west style music plays in the background on a paused video game, The room around me is humming with various electronics. Every surface in the room is scattered with trading cards and half-full soda cans. The floor is a mess of clean (but not folded) laundry. I occupy one bed sitting with my back to the wall with my computer in my lap and an xbox controller at my side. My ds is in reach as well as another computer and a few magic decks. Across from me on the opposite wall, two dressers have been pushed together to make a counter of sorts. In the far eft corner, a stack of games an dvds (mostly anime) is stacked halfway to the ceiling and a white xbox hums atop three fat packs of magic cards I lined up to use as a platform so the bottom of the console didnt get sticky with soda residue. The tv is fairly small but it works. A chair next to the door has everyone's jackets and my purse on it.
The closet is piled with various junk, I'm thinking of shoving some more junk into it just to make some floor space. There's not even a path from the door to the bed. That needs to change.

I'm stalling from going home even though this place is wrought with depression and cloudy energy. I try to get something accomplished every day.
Yesterday I did a few drawings that I was happy with, today I havent done much but will get a few applications done. Im going to start taking down the umbers of places I've applied and calling them back a few days later. This whole waiting around thing is killing me.

Im gonna go try to do something productive.

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Secret quote of the day... [10 Dec 2010|01:10am]
[ mood | loved ]

Every girl in the world besides you
gets an instant -10
for not bein my baby

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Stuff in my purse and things I'd forgot inspired me [05 Dec 2010|11:00pm]
[ mood | pensive ]

I play this game sometimes where I empty my purse and list all the things inside it. This time I'm going to write a bit about everything so you, dear reader, will understand why I have it.

My Wonder Woman wallet
Last thanksgiving we went to Atlanta like we always do. We went to Little Five Points (my favourite place) to look around. In one of the shops I was looking at these wallets made of the same stuff hospital bracelets are. Water resistant, rip-resistant super-paper. I started talking to the girl working and mentioned that I worked at a comic book shop. She pointed out the wonder woman wallet and I broke my own rule against paying money for things to keep money in.

Crumpled-up receipt from a gas station near Tory's house

A little coupon booklet from International Mall

A pull-up and a pair of baby socks
In case there was any doubt that I was a mom

A screenplay of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
This is my favourite play. There are pencil marks in it from when I had to block a scene for my stagecraft class.

Two HOS nametags
One is mine, one is a guy named Shawn's. I found it in the job box one day when I'd forgotten my name tag and put gaff tape over the "Shawn" and wrote my name on the tape.

A button that says "To gnome is to love me"
I found it at HOS and kept it

A button with Animal from the muppets on it that says "Rock on!"
I bought it at the Theatre for Puppetry arts this thanksgiving. I love buttons, even though I havent found anything to pin them all to yet. When I get my own house I might pin a towel or something to the wall just to hold all of my buttons.

Three Crayola crayons: Yellow, Salmon and Tickle me Pink
I'm not sure where the first two came from but I do remember swiping the Tickle me Pink one from Bubbies box of 96 crayons this year. It was always my favourite because even as a kid I could never tell whether the name of the colour was supposed to be a description, a request or a demand. I remember never wanting to use it as a kid too. It was a threatening colour because I hated being tickled and I felt like using it would send the message that I wanted to be tickled. Like it set off some sort of silent alarm that would make people tickle me until my belly was pink. I carry it with me now to overcome that fear.

A Busch Gardens paystub and mine and Layla's tickets to Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer
That was the puppet show we saw. Layla fell asleep not even halfway through but I really liked it. It was hard, as a technician, to watch a show without critiquing it. Not to say I didn't enjoy it but I noticed things I don't think other people would have noticed. Like the way they used lighting to make the puppets look more real or I wonder how backstage is set up because puppets usually are handled by people crouching down but an actor has to use their diaphragm to speak which means they'd need to be standing. I got to talk to a techie after the show though and got to tell her what I liked and ask her questions. I was very happy about this because I'd been noting things the whole play through.

A Stageworks business card
I want to volunteer there but it seems they don't need a techie right now. No one called me back, maybe I'll call again tomorrow. I can't imagine who would turn down free help.

A peanut still in the shell
Zach took Layla and I to a steakhouse for lunch one day. Layla dumped her milk everywhere and didn't like the peanuts. I ate them out of the bucket and was full by the time our food got there. For some reason I put one of them in my purse. I don't see much reason to take it out.

A raffle ticket
This is from an art show at the Pourhouse. I'd started feeling yucky about an hour before they called the raffle winners but I stayed to hear. This is also the night I met the lady who gave me the Stageworks business card. This is also also the night I got food poisoning for the first time.

A pack of clove cigarettes
These were discontinued over a year ago. I worked at a gas station at the time so when they were pulled from the shelves my manager gave me two cartons because she knew I smoked cloves and she'd rather not throw them away when I wanted them so bad. I put them in a gallon ziploc bag and put it in the freezer. I stopped smoking for a year after that, only having a cigarette when I was very angry (about once every month or two)

A couple dollars in change
Every time I get change from anything I toss it in my purse. One day I'll run out of money, empty my purse and go buy lunch

Prescriptions I need to get filled
How silly is it to give someone a script for attention medication and make them keep track of it for three months.

A plastic finger in a vial
This is from the set at HOS. Some fat kid with a hat came through the house about five times being a dick every time. I started following him through (because that was my job) and watched as he plucked one of the prop fingers from the line it was suspended from and try to walk out with it. I got really annoyed (you don't fuck with my set) and held my hand out to him. He handed it over like a kid getting caught being a little douche and never came back through. I put it in my pocket to fix it after the show, forgot, and ended up with a souvenir finger.

A pink ipod nano
</i>In the prime of my "gothic phase" dad asked what colour ipod I wanted to which I replied "Pink!" He said "Seriously though, they've got red and black and white..." I smiled, "Seriously though... Pink." He just looked at me.
"Dyou want anything printed on it?"
"... I kinda meant like your phone number or something."
"Oh. Yeah I guess but put iMab on it too."
I have a pink ipod. On the back it reads:

My pokewalker
When I worked HOS I got over 30k steps a night. I was trying to catch a flying pikachu. Never did but I got TONS of watts.

Two itty bitty flashlights with "Safety begins with ME" written on them
they came in a bag of about 100 of em at work one night. We all had them, most of us ended up with several. I have a burnt out one somewhere. It was stuck on "on" and no amount of pressing the button, smashing it against concrete posts or throwing it across the sidewalk would turn it off. So I kept it to see how long it would stay on... About two days.

A sunglasses lens
Another thing I found at HOS and tossed in my purse. Not sure why I kept it. I ended up with quite a collection of "Shit I found at work" though

Half a roll of tums
Better to have em and not need em...

A pink lighter
I was sick of getting pissed off and then having to look for matches. Its pink because all the small gadgets I have are pink. Ipod, lighter, my 3ds will be pink... My vibrator is not pink. But my vibrator is not small.

A yellow Starburst
Chris and I would play around at work. It devolved into throwing candy at each other. Namely starburst. Then I decided only the yellow ones counted. One night he picked all the yellows out of a bag of starburst just for our game. People were finding them all over the place because we'd lose em and just grab another out of a pocket.

A piece of amber
to dispel negativity. I hide them places because they work better when you forget they're there. This one is getting cloudy though, I need to cleanse it

A sandstone with gold lettering that says "create"
No idea where I got this but I've carried it with my for years.

Two nuts
They were in my pocket at work one night along with a couple screws and a safety pin. I think that was the night Dominic broke his curtain and I had to pin it together again. I kept two of the nuts because I'm immature like that.


Now then, if the theory about women and their purses is correct, you should know a lot more about me now. Also know that I really enjoy writers who address their readers. Tolkien does it a lot. And Stephen King in "On Writing". I feel that it makes the story more personal. I imagine sitting on Grandpa Tolkien's lap by a fire and hearing him tell me about how hobbits are much smaller than you or I... To me it puts storytelling back into telling a story. That is why I try to address you, reader, even though I'm the only one I plan on having read this. It also makes me more comfortable as a writer being able to address teh reader in such a way. Like I'm traveling through time to have a conversation with you even though I'm alone at my computer right now and you might be alone somewhere else months or even years from now. Stephen King described writing as time travel because of this. That he, sitting at his desk in 1996 could have a conversation of sorts with me, a high schooler the first time I read it.
Two of the biggest inspirations for writing as an adult come from an english class I took in high school. Miss Alverado to be exact. She somehow got through to me, letting me read ahead of my classmates and lending me books, particularly "The Pocket Muse" and "On Writing" (which is a book I could read and re-read every year forever). I feel like if I ever made it as a writer in any sense it would be because of her. I also feel like this is something I'd never tell her. I was too much of a punk in high school to ever admit that some teacher, some slave of the man actually gave me direction and purpose in my life. But looking back I can see myself sitting in the back row of her class, nose buried in "The Giver" three chapters ahead of the class as always... I remember that she never called on me to read aloud. Actually most of my teachers didn't. I think they knew I was much farther than the class.
In sixth grade we read "Where the Red Fern Grows". I remember very little about that book except the more graphic parts. But I do distinctly remember reading ahead one day and leaving class crying. Before I left miss Hemenway pulled me aside and told me not to tell the other kids what had happened in the book. After the bell rang everyone was asking me what was wrong and I made up something stupid like "I got in a fight with my friend" or "I just dont feel well". The next day I got to class and opened to the page I'd left off at, reading ahead again and looking like an insensitive dick because while everyone else was crying I was finally learning where that book had got its name.
I still think about "The Giver". The part about red just completely blew my mind. I don't remember a lot of the plot though, just some of the details. What I wouldn't do to get my hands on that book right now. I may actually go out tomorrow and get it.
I'd say this writing exercise was successful. It did exactly what I wanted it to do- to get my mind rolling and let me just sit and write. I've noticed that things like drawing and writing, things I used to live for but dont do very much anymore... Theyre beginning to take on a new aspect.. Discipline. I'm making daily regimens of practice instead of just picking up a pencil should I get inspired. I got out of the habit of getting inspired. That little spark in my mind had gone out about the time I'd graduated. For many reasons. I don't want to think about it now though, I won't let it destroy me any more than it has.
Before I go to bed I want to look around online for things to draw. I want to focus on simple shapes for the time being, to get my hand back into form. I don't want to start with people, theyre too complex. Thing is, most of the images I save are of people. I need to look for things to draw. Preferably objects in harsh lighting. I love the contrast. It catches my eye really well.
I'm gonna go do that though. Farewell dear reader, until tomorrow.

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[05 Dec 2010|04:09pm]
No one reads lj anymore so the fact that my profile info is three years old and mostly not true anymore is really not a problem at all.
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[04 Dec 2010|09:49pm]
I'm trying to start a routine of drawing exercises to do every day. I'm gonna try to do a contour of something and then a gesture of the same thing. I'll do a decent sketch once a week and also a fanart type sketch once a week as well. So far I have my one fanart and my contour/gesture.
At least that way I'll have practice and a few decent sketches. Something to work on, keep my mind moving.
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f # ? [23 Nov 2010|01:00am]
I'm currently downloading 18 gb of language software. I hope its done soon. I'm getting on with my dream to know every language. I want to understand everything, learn everything.

I'm not really that inspired right now... Maybe tomorrow.
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