Happy Birthday, Janet Louise.
You're dead and I miss you.
*sings Lionel*

This is the best place to put a bunch of pics together for someone. This someone today is Susan Kay. If you aren't her, you might as well skip. But if you're nosy, be my guest.

( No comprendo )

Happy Birthday, Jude. You're dead. I miss you.

I have. Nothing. To write.

When its cool and sunny and smells like dying leaves hanging on for dear end of life, or raining on hot pavement - or if there are fires in people's fireplaces and pumpkins slowly rotting on people's doorsteps, I admit, nostalgia gets the best of me. I want everyone I love who happens to be dead to climb into bed with me and never go away again. However. When chocolate is being sold in mass quantities, assholes are dressing up like giant murderous rabbits, and everything is painted pastel....I do pretty well fighting off the nostalgia. Easter seems to be dragging out people's old photos and memories of childhood Sundays spent searching for hard boiled poultry abortions everywhere I look. I still have a month before I begin walking around hating every mother daughter pair I see, throwing up a little in my mouth, and then getting the urge to hug them and tell them never to leave each other. Like that isn't an everyday occurance. How the hell do you spell occurance? And how come no white crayon wielding miniature human ever drew the conclusion that if you decorate the eggs one day, and search for the same eggs the next, its impossible that the Easter Bunny brought them for you? What?

On another note. Human selfishness never ceases to amaze me. Now see, selfish things like stealing from other people, or stepping on someone else to get to where one strives to be, or taking credit where credit is far from due - all of these things I've learned to live with...because people are generally assholes. Its the small and sometimes more personal selfishivities that have been bothering me lately. Things like people talking and never listening. Like small inconveniences that people have no problems imposing upon me. Like oblivi-morons pulling out in front of me in traffic. And like people not having the decency to use common sense to dictate common courtesy...please - ignorance is not an excuse. We are all born with the innate ability to learn common sense, and with common sense comes common courtesy. It does not take practice to learn these things....but it does take practice to learn how to ignore them. Ridiculous. I am not a saint, and I'd have to go out of my ever loving way to avoid using effing manners.

And if this pig doesn't stop whining, I'm giving him away.

I am thrilled and grateful that I've kept a journal in various places since I was a young lass. Why, one might ask? I used to marvel at how shitty people's attitudes grew the older they themselves grew. There was a time when I was determined to see the good in all people, a time when human beings amazed and baffled me not for their capacity to remain content in their ignorance and their inability to recognize their own stupidity...but for the amount of love my little naive heart could hold for even the meanest, stupidest most self centered assholes walking among us. My journals document my slow decent into complacency and eventually disgust and disdain and large quantities of disappointment. I used to wonder how anyone could let themselves become so jaded and guarded and uncaring. My journey into such jadage is well documented, and truthfully, a sad read. "Where did I go and what happened to me?" I've often asked. Oh. There I went. I was cut off and flipped the bird and forced to take that wrong exit, and now look where I've ended up. I really do miss the loving person I used to be. But I also miss the eloquent skeletal girl I was when I snorted beautiful glistening crystal miracle up my nose - and I'm told that girl wasn't real after all.

Poll #1355956 netflix
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 4

I just signed up with Netflix. What movies should I see?

Come home.
Get in my pj's.
Go to bed.

( survey in piccies )


.

I should be in bed.
I have 5 hours to sleep.
I have tonight and tomorrow night off.
I quit my job and now have a rather wonderful boss. Figures.
Flying to CA this month because Denise loves me.
I eat too much.
If lj disappears, so will I.
My mouth hurts. My tooth which is no longer a tooth but a giant hole in my jaw is seriously not making me happy.
I have a dentist appointment Monday.
And.
voodoo_vibe has just posted a sentence that could very well have come straight from my brain (Ha! Aint it nice to know you're not alone in this world?):
On a similar note, I realised this morning that I rarely actually fantasise about sex, it's usually...first aid. I am ill and nobody should come near me with a ten foot pole. *sigh*
The end.

Why I think its SO important for people to vote.
(I WANT that t-shirt that says "National Sarcasm Society....Like we NEED your Support")





And.

This. Was stolen shamelessly from jenny_1981

I took the 43 Things Personality Quiz and found out I'm a Self-Knowing Spiritual Reinventer

AHAHAHA! Asshole.

I would have given anything for my very own penis today.
A tiny one, that might have conveniently fit in an old (and empty) water bottle or soda can.

On the way back from Phoenix this morning, I hit Tucson and my exit and thought, "Hrmm....I have to pee." I proceeded to find every driver over 80 years old and get stuck behind them. Not only that, I managed to box myself in behind each of them. I swear to God every signal was against me as well. I hit every bump and pothole in the road I possibly could have, and despite sitting on my foot and rising and resting like I was atop a trotting horse, my bladder would not leave me alone. I tried to utilize the deep and meaningful lessons I learned from the wise, the amazing, The Secret, but no matter how many green lights and smooth paved roads I visualized, I was still forced to scream "FUCK!" at the top of my lungs every time I hit a red light or a rough patch, which then forced me to wince in fullbladderinducedpain.

I almost kissed my toilet when I got home, but I had not the time.

The drive home was nice. I bopped to tunes and had my thoughts to myself. A few things occured to me.

*I decided that I've realized in the past year that being content and being happy are two very different things. I've gone so far out of my way to avoid uncomfortable situations, that I haven't been prodded to find comfort in learning from them. I should do something about this.

*I also noticed that certain music is almost unbearable to hear these days. Its great to put a soundtrack to your life, but such a heartwrenching reminder sometimes.

*And. I was cut off, tailgated (ok, I speed....I should NOT be tailgated) and found plenty of 60mpherers in the fast lane. People canNOT drive for shadoobie. That is my final conclusion.

No no. My final conclusion is this: from now on I should definitely carry a funnel with me in my car at all times.

I think we should glue them together and make some kind of wall mural, or room divider, or coffee table.

So, I just added some new lj pals and was looking at my friends vs. my mutual friends in my profile. There are a bunch of people that I guess added me and I have no idea who you are. Most of this journal is friends only. Who art thou?? Speak to me! :)

People always say they would rather be told how a person really feels than to have to guess. I think I'm going to have to disagree. I don't think people really want to know at all. Or, they only want to know if its good. Take, for example, all the convos I had with Jude when she was still breathing about how we'd both rather be told, "You know, I really don't feel like doing anything today, I'm going to have to cancel our plans." than "Well, this really important thing came up," or, "Actually, I have an ingrown toenail and I can't walk."

However, there are times when a person can either volunteer information, or keep it to themselves...such as when plans aren't riding on this information. Times when a person (hmm, such as myself) could either tell someone how they're feeling or stuff it down and try to ignore it.

I'm pretty sure that every person I've ever driven away has been driven away because of information regarding my feelings (most usually bruised) that was not considerably necessary to share. I am determined, these days, to keep that crap to myself. No more do I so freely tell anyone how I feel, and more often I retreat, withdraw and hide...or curl up like a rolly polly olly.

This instinct to voice my hurt (and lately, my happy) is something I am willingly trying to curb, as, like I said, I don't think anyone really wants to hear it, despite the words coming out of their mouths. Telling people how I felt was my way of giving them the opportunity to know and help a girl out. I realize these days, that not a one actually cares to.

( ...this is the mirror in which pain is asleep... )

Of course, I guess I should take into consideration that my feelings are, most often, apparently not justified.

Christmas correspondence has been mixed. My gma nini sent me a pwesent and a card with some recipes that made my day. My dads mom sent me a guilt trip about not knowing whats happening in my life, and not going to her house for Christmas (haven't done that in YEARS). I've seen both gracious and disgustingly rude people in public. So. Each end of the spectrum and the way I digest them (satisfied and warm, or nauseated and indegestified) to the extreme cancel each other out and I sit here in a comfortable state of apathy.

Jude was in love with Adrienne Rich and bombarded me with Adrienne Rich emails. I love her as well.

For the Dead

I dreamed I called you on the telephone
to say: Be kinder to yourself
but you were sick and would not answer

The waste of my love goes on this way
trying to save you from yourself

I have always wondered about the left-over
energy, the way water goes rushing down a hill
long after the rains have stopped

or the fire you want to go to bed from
but cannot leave, burning-down but not burnt-down
the red coals more extreme, more curious
in their flashing and dying
than you wish they were
sitting long after midnight

Adrienne Rich

( Read more... )

"The first question is for you, Governor MooseKnuckle."



"This must be what Paula Abdul feels like getting out of bed every morning!"

And. My fam. Yeah. Easily amused. I thought that was a good thing.

17 years of momlessness.
No fair.

This country is lovely.

( pictures. big pictures. )

Her suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,
In statue-like repose.

But when the sun in all his state
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through Glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.

-A Death-Bed, James Aldrich

Our house isn't underwater. Yet!!



( I am safe. But damn. )

Insanity!!



( Read more... )

I've forgotten how to write anything of substance. Or maybe my life just lacks it. I'm not complaining about that either. I have no drama to write about, except the occasional bitch at work, Katrina getting on my nerves for something stupid like her part not being straight or something equally lame, or feeling sorry for myself because I'm not the center of the universe - again. Today.

I did go to the clinic yesterday like a good girl. And only because I promised Denise I would. They won't give me my prescriptions for free because they're convinced that someone else is giving me my prescriptions for free. When in fact, no one is giving me anything for free, except an hour wait and a bitchy nurse practitioner who could have just said to my face, "You're wasting my time...I want to treat a cough, or play doctor, or cure cancer and be famous." instead of treating me like nothing. Whatev. The last dumb beeotch decided to take away my beautiful Ambien, and yesterday they wouldn't even give me my prescription slip back. Dude. I had permission for THREE months of magic rest pills, and for what - to have them ripped away!! BASTARDS!! See if I ever tell any doctors I've ever used recreational drugs ever in my entire life.

I forgot to eat yesterday. Yay!
Now I'm starving, and skhetti doesn't sound good to me.

Theres been a wittle wabbit in our front yard everyday we've come home. Just sitting there waiting for us.
His name is now Pedro. Officially.

Um. I seem to not have the ability to post an actual entry. Oh well. Worse things could happen, I suppose.

Thanks jenny_1981!!

3 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

heh. coulda guessed that one.

Beautiful baby pig boi.
( Read more... )

Ew. I'm watching the world's deadliest animals. Bears, and spiders, and alligators, and sharks.
I'm reverting back to the days when I wouldn't swim in the deep end of the pool because I'd give myself dizzying anxiety attacks imagining Jaws coming up through the drain. For years I had a recurring dream that my dad, my mom and my brother were trying to cross an Indiana Jones style rope bridge, and I fell off and hung there over the alligators. My parents tried to help me, but when they couldn't they gave up and kept walking.

I don't think I'm right, however, in exclaiming, "aw, don't hurt him!" when some lady is beating the hell out of the grizzly bear who is attacking her husband with her binoculars. My dad always did make fun of me for petting the dead fish in the grocery store.