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Living Dead Girl
11 August 2012 @ 12:27 am
You're no longer welcome here.  Take your Lauis Complex elsewhere. 

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
Living Dead Girl
05 August 2012 @ 01:10 am
Met a guy in a bar last night.  We chatted for quite a long time.  Later in the evening, we ended up texting.  He informed me that he had a girlfriend, but something "on the side" might work.  Seriously, do I always have to be THAT girl?
Living Dead Girl
04 August 2012 @ 02:21 am
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

Living Dead Girl
02 August 2012 @ 12:09 am
Sometimes, you learn things about people that...  apparently they didn't want you to know.  Too personal, too crushing, too much.  I just stumbled upon a trove of that information.  I'm sort of at a loss for words.  It's heartbreaking.

Sometimes it's so much easier to love you.  I guess that's true of everyone.

Being ignored hurts so very, very much.
Living Dead Girl
01 August 2012 @ 11:29 pm
Evolving or unraveling?

I've spent the past hour or so exchanging graphic nudes with a friend.  Seriously, I never do this.  Not to say that for some reason, just about every guy I know hasn't decided to send me a picture of his dick at some point or another.  Usually I just kind of laugh and ignore it, though.  I don't even really talk dirty, unless I'm actually getting fucked (and in that case, I have to be either REALLY into it or REALLY bored... ).

Apparently, after a ridiculous length of doctor-ordered abstinence, I'm losing my ability to focus on anything but getting fucked.  I've actually started indiscriminately coming on to, um, everyone.  I'm over-tipping waitresses to make up for my mild to moderate sexual harassment.  Thankfully, they like it.  But apparently I'm just becoming a man.  I'm brash, crude, disinterested in other people's feelings, and blatantly eye fucking pretty much anything that moves.  Yep...  I fit the fuckin' bill.  I don't even care.  I feel like a coiled snake, ready to strike.

I'm shortlisting the guys I'd be willing to fuck right now that's an awful sentence.  In reality, I'd like Nabo to come over and fuck my brains out, smack the shit out of me, do some really godawful things, but apparently he's gone off to play Captain Asshole.  It's almost funny; after waiting so much time to get in my pants again, THIS is the time to disappear.  You are a whopping disappointment.

Oh, I really have nothing productive to say.  I could probably ramble for an hour or so about my pent up sexual frustration/general rage, but that's not particularly helpful to... anyone. 

Just... ugh.

"Fuck baby, I just can't stop touching myself to you."
Living Dead Girl
30 July 2012 @ 11:30 pm
Sometimes, the absolute best part of my day is a moment when I could be particularly kind to someone.

Unrelated, but sort of not, I finally had it out with my old boss.  Continuing to (fairly) quietly ignore her hateful rhetoric and vitriol just felt like I was compromising myself.  If I can't use her as a job reference any longer, it's fine, because I won't have to worry about the moral conflicts she constantly leads me to.  Idiocy.  I removed a few other people from my Facebook friends list, and it brought me relief that seems... ridiculous?  But considering how much I use the site, for so many purposes, the concept of "networking" with people that I truly don't want in my life has been oddly stressful.  Oh, the Internet.

To tell the truth, I'm somewhat enraged.  I'm so endlessly sick of women tearing one another apart for sport.  I won't for a moment say that it's not something I haven't been guilty of, and something I don't still occasionally do.  However, it's the prolific amount of women causing one another severe amounts of emotional harm, via "safe" mediums like the Internet, by condemning the physical appearance of one another.  I'm tired of being part of it, even as an observer, and I'm tired of being told that I'm "just jealous" when I intervene.  I'm sick of being bombarded with false advertising.  I'm sick of reading studies in which little girls conclude they want to be "sexy," before they even know what the word means.  I'm sick of men perpetuating this culture, but I'm so much more sick of women shamelessly heaping all the blame upon men without taking a second of self reflection first.  I've had enough of hearing that "we have arrived," now that every country in the world has allowed women to compete on their Olympic teams -- when these women return to home and are ALLOWED to vote, drive cars, file for divorce, take birth control, turn down sex, prosecute rapists, run for political office, be paid equal wages, and roughly a billion other things... then we will have arrived.  I'm exhausted of hearing that supporting women, locally or globally, somehow makes me a dyke.  I'm sick of being called a lesbian, like it's a dirty word or an insult.  I'm sick of being told that I must be a lesbian for a thousand other reasons. 

I know that it will always be exhausting to spend every day standing up for what I believe in.  I know that I will never stop.  Sometimes I just need to take a few minutes to complain, just so that I can keep going.  I can't simply move through the world when I see so much wrong in it.  Apathy, in that regard, just isn't in my nature.

I'm going to have to sit down and write Sarah a letter...  Not one that I'm going to actually send her, but the kind I write here so I can move on and feel better.  She's more a victim of her own uselessness and stupidity than anyone else, but that doesn't stop me from being infuriated.  I know I won't settle until I vent. 

I moved a large chunk of money into savings today, then promptly emailed my tattoo artist.  I'm dying to see him.  Fresh ink makes everything better.  I'd like another piercing or two, as well, but I've sort of run out of room.  I don't want my nipples pierced again, I can't keep a nose ring in, and I'm rather averse to surface piercings.  So, ink it is.  I was saving money for vacation, but now I don't see to be going anywhere, so... there's cash on hand for body modification.  My mother will be so proud.

Doc was lovely this morning.  I'm going to do a sleep study.  I don't say this in a negative way, but I suspect it will be unproductive.  I have an incredibly hard time sleeping anywhere besides my bed, and I can count on one hand the number of people I can sleep near/in the presence of with any success.  If only it weren't completely illogical and unreasonable, and against the rules of the whole ordeal, I'd beg J to fly here and go with me.  Anyway, it's better than the usual super-fun-cancer-time-lolz that usually occur when I go to the doctor.

Beyond that... beyond that... hmmm...  I think I've finished compiling research & data for my paper.  It took an extra fun amount of time because, as it usually the case when I write a paper, I generally pick the less popular opinion.  I like the more challenging argument.  It's not hard; I'm not pushing myself if I'm making the same case as everyone else.  Besides, I usually believe the other side anyway.  I did a fair amount of the research at work and I'm kind of confused about the fact that the web filter blocks us from looking at websites for bathing suits, but I had no problems with searching things like "recidivism rates of juvenile sex offenders," and reading rather lengthy articles on the topic.  It seems like one might be more "offensive" to the work environment than the other, and probably the swimsuits wouldn't be it. 

As for the rest of it, which has stopped being the most pressing matter...  I realized recently that I hadn't assigned a nickname, which is customary here, just because.  It only took a moment, and if the reference is lost, I'll smile to myself about it and that will be just fine.  So, anyhow, as everyone tends to do, Nabo disappeared at the height of everything, and remains so.  Half of me is mad, and the other half is tired of giving a fuck.  Maybe those proportions are off, but who knows in which direction they should lean otherwise.  Regardless, since I'm positive I elaborated on just how infuriating, disrespectful, and otherwise upsetting I find a sudden lack of communication...  Fuck it.  You know what?  Disappearing, making me feel awful, acting like this?  It's incredibly immature.  I'm so incredibly far from being impressed.  Apparently, all anyone knows these days is weakness.

Me, though?  I'm not taking any fucking prisoners.
Living Dead Girl
29 July 2012 @ 10:46 pm
Hypothetically, I'm supposed to have spent the majority of the day doing schoolwork.  In reality, I've spent a great deal of time watching porn.  I'm pretty okay with that.

That's not to say I didn't accomplish quite a bit.  I cleaned a fair amount.  I biked over ten miles.  It was beautiful out.  And I started putting together my, which serves as a rather large part of my final grade.  Apparently, my opinion is rather unpopular, which is making it different to find source material.  Either way, I will do what I do best... argue. 

None of the pre-selected topics really piqued my interest, so I...  warped one of them.  I'm writing about the potential harmful effects of sealing/expunging the sexual assault records of juvenile offenders.  Nothing will ever be as offensive as my "Why the Holocaust was Awesome," paper a few years ago, but apparently a lot of people think that letting junior rapists hide their convictions is just fine.  Whatever.  I wonder if somehow I'm supposed to be on the other side of the argument, since my overall goal here is to work for a situation like the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children.  For fuck's sake; could they have a shorter name?

Anyway, I've got my ninety billionth doc appointment of the year in the morning.  I have to get my shit together so I go to bed early, get up fucking early, and learn in what new way I'm dying faster than the rest of my peers.  Onward and upward, motherfuckers.
Living Dead Girl
28 July 2012 @ 01:01 am
Fuck, I hope you understand what a outstanding privilege this is, to have access to my innermost - well, everything.  It's reached a point that I'm starting to express things that I kind of, sort of, mostly want to actually keep to myself... And yet this is my only space to release such thoughts, and since I've given you permission, I'm not suddenly going to restrict it.

I want so very badly to play dirty.  I want to behave like a child, to stomp and scream until I get the attention that I want.  At this moment, right now, I am truly craving your company.  Not because I am lonely, or because I need you, but because I truly just want to occupy the same space.  I know I care about you because I want to be around you when I'm happy, not just when I'm having an emotional catastrophe. 

I learned something tonight, information that I've always had easy access to and never thought to look at before.  For me... it's sort of changed things.  God, everything's so fucked up.  Convoluted and confusing.  I know what I want, and yet I don't know what I'd do if I had it.  It would be so very, very nice if I wasn't trapped in my own head...  What I would do to know what anyone else here is thinking. 

Every time I call my best friend, I swear I can hear him shaking his head.  He laughs and basically we come to the same conclusion, which boils down to "Everyone is a motherfucker."  I probably shouldn't mess with anyone's life, but once in a while I'd like to just be a roaringly selfish bitch and get what I want.  I think. 

Today was nice.  I need a wealthy benefactor so badly.  There is so much that I want to do for other people, and having to waste so much time working and going to school simply gets in the way.  I won't lie; it would be nice if I could actually just take a day to clear my head sometimes, too, and not worry about the financial repercussions.  Mostly, thought, I'd like to spend my days like I did today...

I took the day off and went to the retirement & rehab community on the other side of town.  The summer picnic/party was taking place, and the residents in the Memory Care Unit that had no family visiting needed assistance.  "Assistance" mostly consisted of pushing their wheel chairs, narrating their surroundings, and attempting to un-jumble their word soup.  I don't even know how to write about the experience.  Basically, I felt absurdly awkward for the first chunk of time, which is pretty much the same way I feel around children.  I'm very uncomfortable interacting with all people, but new people in particular.  I rely on raunchy stories and scandalous language as a crutch, because it makes people laugh and that helps me relax.  When that's taken out of the equation, I'm, well, fucking fucked.

There were moments early on that were so gorgeous that I can't even discuss them without sounding like a mortifying cliche.  One lady was just so pleased to go outside and look at the flowers.  Another loved the sparkly pin she won in the game room.  It wasn't until I saw my favorite resident, though, that I really relaxed...  There's a guy named Mac who used to have red hair (he's adamant that he still does) who I'd like to take home with me.  For inexplicable reasons, I absolutely adore him.  Ever the gentleman, he invited me to sit and have lunch with him, where he very seriously told me that he'd never won a game in his life (yet somehow had quite a few prizes from the game room in tow...).

And Dorris.  Oh, Dorris.  She broke my heart.  I had to keep reminding myself that even though she repeatedly whispered to me "I'm scared," she wasn't actually scared, her brain was just fixated on that phrase.  She was just so sweet, though, and regardless of whether or not she was really scared, I didn't want her to be alone.  The nurses told me that Dorris doesn't get visitors, except on very rare occasions, so I spent the afternoon with her.  I was planning on leaving around 1, but I sat with Dorris for almost three hours.  I just rubbed her back and talked quietly with her...  Although mostly she just wanted to sit there in silence, every so often telling me how wonderful I was to her. 

Another lady, whose name I don't recall, wheeled right up to my other side and grabbed my hand.  I held her hand for an hour or so, at which point she fell asleep.  And a third lady, who I absolutely adored, wheeled up just as enthusiastically and indulged me in conspiracy stories for several hours.  Mostly, I rubbed Dorris's back while this third lady told me that the doctors steal the patients coats and blood for some impending event, and that Mac is a spy from China (Mac is a very, very white man), and that soon someone would be along to take my blood as well.  A lot of what she said was technically made up of words, but didn't form sentences, so mostly I took my cues from her expressions and responded accordingly.

For some reason, it's hard for me to write about the whole experience.  Strangely, it's almost too personal for me to even continue to go over...  even in discussing with myself?  I probably just need sleep, and more extensive time to process.  So much has been going on in all arenas of my life lately, and my sleep has been very poor, which means my processing capabilities have been at a minimum.

I'd be more excited about the weekend if I didn't have to do my midterm project.  Then again, at least I'm at the midterm point.  I have about three weeks between the summer semester ending and the fall semester beginning...  I really, really want to go somewhere, every for a two day trip, in between.  I have to put more effort into figuring that out.  Particularly if I'm serious about getting my next tattoo soon.  Immediately, really. 

Love and love and love.

Living Dead Girl
26 July 2012 @ 09:32 pm
Much better day for me.  Sleep is never to be underestimated.  And if any fraction of me was still dwelling, other people's tragedies put everything into even clearer perspective.

Met a yoga instructor who reads Sanskrit and was immensely excited by my tattoos.  He was wearing a shirt from the company I work at; small world.  Intense enthusiasm.  Spinning was amazing.  It's an incredible feeling, to be pushing myself so hard that I'm simultaneously out of myself, and yet firmly rooted in my body.  Every muscle I possess is already settling into a slow, delicious ache. 

Had a faux-but almost not-date with a... very strange girl.  Too much to process right now.  She talked and I listened, which was a fucking fantastic change of pace.  And the sushi was phenomenal.  I actually ate shrimp and tuna, which are not normally items I consume.  Learning.

Now, thoroughly worked out, well fed, completely and deliriously exhausted.  Too tired to think and it's beautiful.  It's nice to have something calm and simple to write.

Three day weekend.  So much school work to do.  Volunteering tomorrow.  Glorious sleep, first.
Living Dead Girl
25 July 2012 @ 10:44 pm
"Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.”
(from The Catcher in the Rye)

There's a reason that Holden's been my favorite character for as long as I can remember.  Kindred.

I am trying to keep my hands busy, but oh, I am feeling so incredibly destructful.  Almost lasciviously so. 

I need to get away for a while.  I'd like to sit near the ocean for a day or two.  I don't think I've ever had that particular desire before.  A cool breeze, white wine, crisp sheets.  Quiet.  A balcony with a view, a book, a lazy afternoon...  Or, perhaps, a hand on my back.  Lips in my hair, on my throat.  Need.  Need?  I need to be fucked.  Now, particularly.  Soon, at the very least.

I'd like to go somewhere completely unfamiliar.  Just for a little while.  Just to relax.  I don't want to go alone. 

Then again, nobody ever does.