disynthetic

Riiiightright. Must be painful.

That way we will never be surprised when it misses us and wants us back, and comes beating on your door at 4 in the morning as if it were some jilted lover. We would then remember what made us hurt before, that we could more readily appreciate what makes us feel good now and forever.

This is why I keep record of my hurts, and recall them .. well, "not infrequently." Here, and in general. As I've mentioned, I don't do it to complain or get as many "OMG NOOOOOOO ARE YOU OTAAAAAAYYYYYYY" responses as I can, and I don't always necessarily do it when I'm laying heavy on my floor and pulling the center of my body as low to the earth as I can get it in order to be grounded [yes, when I need grounding, I really do literally need "grounding"] -- I do this to keep it close, and in the forefront. I keep it balled up in the side of my cheek like an old piece of gum that has a hint of taste left. You don't have to chew it all the time, but know that it's there and that if you bit down, you'd get a rush of that old flavor. Contrast is important; fuckin' critical. It's the whole groundwork for perspective, for just about anything, so why is everyone so quick to wholly forget? There's a line between obsessing and erasing. It's not that thin. There's room to walk around in it, probably. Room to get comfortable.

And then when these things do creep up -- they're familiar and they become muses instead of triggers and nightmares and tools for your undoing.

I was -kind- of thinking of something similar last night. But it's not something I want to write for the public yet. Because it's kind of a novel idea to me, and those are too exciting to just throw out. But .. yep. I don't even know if this is what you're talking about, but.

Anyway. You're not awkward. Lulz.

Lmfao.

When you said my hood looked like yours.

I thought.

My hood.

Of my sweatshirt.

I was like. Dude, that's such a girlie hoodie I'm wearing. Not to mention, you can't really see the hood very well, but if your sweatshirt looks anything like mine, well. Enough said, BECAUSE.

I soo get it now. n___n;

Little nostalgia trips = awesome. I could perfectly imagine yours. The wrapping and curling of little fingers beneath a closed door -- I laughed out loud at this. Little things, like feeling the rough splintering edge because that's the one part of the door that's not finished. I had the very same thing with my dad! One of my only memories of him, actually, because he left before I was three. Vague memory and knowledge that I was upside down over him, suspended by one foot. He was tickling my exposed stomach with his free hand and I was weightless and helpless, then down. I used to think my mom looked exactly like Cinderella -- she wore her hair the same, and it was the same color. She had the same face, and not just "she looks like a grown-up lady" but .. specifically looked like Cinderella, and not Snow White. I told her she was perfect once when I was very small, around the Cinderella time, and she cried. Felt awkward.

Regarding English, believe me. I am floored by this. Nevermind the people who seem to violently oppose doing it correctly, but the ones who try and just can't seem to get the basics? It blows my mind. We've been speaking this language [and in most cases, only this language] 20-something years now. We've been hearing it everywhere. How can you not pick up on the intricacies and be able to incorporate them? Nevermind creative writing [which is just manipulating it anyway, and you should be able to do] -- how are we still caught up on grammar? AHH. Seriously. I actually find the language and rules to be terribly interesting. But not the basics. I like reading about the tricks and tunnels and bumps in the road -- and realizing that my brain recognizes these things and throws red flags in the appropriate places 98% of the time from just having lived.

http://suicidegirls.com/groups/Gamers/topics/409221/

This was brought to my attention by a friend. And got some lulz.

That the reference you mean?

By the way. I did realize a second later I was sending you to a topless picture of .. myself. Feel like that's an odd thing to do, but.

When in Rome. -____-;

Rofl.

You are such a creeper.

Orly. S'pose that's an investment I can get behind. Considering I drink that three times over in coffee before 11 each morning. Gimme a seat at the cool kids table plz.

Dude. Google says yes to "gimme."

I -want- to respond to your comment, but if you can imagine .. the part of my brain that wants to fire off is actually .. bleeding at the moment, from the last eight hours? Soooo. Will you accept a raincheck?

And, remind me: snakes eating kittens. ;/

Maybe I could use a stopwatch and keep a journal of how much time I spend doing certain things each day. Even in the event that you -didn't- alter your natural behavior in these neurotic little time trials, .. being that you're not blind to them as they're happening [which you would] -- just the notion that you were, or that you had, at the end of it [and possibly even the results, still, after] .. you're right, would make you batty. Not even the most calculated person spends his time totally wisely, and if he does, he's even more of a nut case and arguably worse off for budgeting his time so tightly and being too rigid.

Stop worrying.

Concern yourself with averages. Over a month -- do you wind up at the end where you wanted to have found yourself. Are you stagnant in ways that are inexcusable, etc. Then maybe you should reevaluate what owned you in that month. But not in a day -- dear Lord. Time is the ultimate mindfucker, and it does not screw gently.

My hands and feet and face fall asleep as a side effect of my medication. Sometimes other various [but always symmetrical] extremities, like elbows or just pinkies or backs of knees or calves. But the coldness [and thus restriction of movement] is fuckin' awkward. The slow typing. Lol. I get it with texting -- dumbfingers.

How about when you're outside and your face freezes and you can't make words. That's .. the worst. :/ I change what I want to say; condense it into less words, just to get there faster because I feel so stupid.

Henry Rollinssss. <3

This is what my puzzle box tattoo is all about. I have this thing where I hand [nothing or] everything to a person, and if the payoff isn't in kind or at least consistent with my efforts, I leave barely in tact. Reassemble myself feeling cheated, stolen from. And the jaded period is longer each time. I never used to have one, in fact, but recently I get it with friends and relationships nearly alike -- feel exhausted and as though I am looking at my guts on the table, which is totally my fault because I put them there, and why. I have to leave them. I walk away from another handful of my own guts on another table. I know there will come a point where I don't have it in me to reach in and pull anything else out -- not one more time, not for one more person. Not someone who could be my best friend or otherwise. I'm already getting to this point where it's exhausting, y'know? I'm already claiming "recovery time" from even just a week of conversation from certain people who are too much on my brain and too leechy. Is this it? So the puzzlebox was my space. To keep it in. Telling me to shut up, and leave some in. Not to touch some pieces -- not to feel tempted to take all of my pieces -out- and show them every single time to every person, and flip them over and show them the backs. And bend them and show them how they crease, etc. Because they won't be around later when I'm upset because the creases won't go away, etc.

Um.

Anyway, yeah, it's probably like seven.

But then again. Life is long. You grow. You will waste your first .. way too many people being compulsive. Well, you say optimistic. I say compulsive.

So maybe it starts over with perception.

Sorry for the paragraph issues. I woke up like a half hour ago. And haven't had coffee since yesterday morning. I don't understand how I'm sitting.

Baaha. Yes. The third slide is cut off and I know exactly what it says.

So I've thought about this a little. Mostly when I just had my head upside down in the sink -- can't choose these times. ;/ And, okay. This might rub you the wrong way, because it's just one of those things, but fuck.

Well, first I just wanted to say that while it's obvious you were frustrated that people were trying to paint you into a swatch on the political spectrum, the fact is that what you are talking about and just the sheer color of your convictions is a liberal [brace yourself] agenda [don't swing]. Now, -obviously- you draw zero motivation from this, so it's not what I'm saying -- but the nature of your fight is political. It is. So I say liberal with a lower-case l. Not capital.

This has been one of my biggest [I don't know the word for this] .. .. .. frustrations lately -- that when people think "politics," they think of the dirt and grime. It's synonymous now -- for manipulation. They think Washington and suits and scandal. But I think of what you are talking about instead, and I think about the struggle and the people who push through. I am a progressive, and so naturally I think of the forward motion. The rest is a side-effect of the illness but it is possible to keep your people and your conviction at your sides, and you just muscle through it, because all of the noise will always be there. Conservative thought will always be there. Clinging to broken pieces and smiling wide. These people can seldom even be reasoned with.

I find it somewhat odd that you are so driven in this and so ambivalent regarding politics, and that's because I don't know you well at all and it could be for any reason -- it's not mine to judge. So you may choose to circumvent that entire "scene" intentionally, go through other routes .. but really, it would be a huge vehicle for you, since part of its base is built around social programs and how to improve these conditions. Not on a large scale, since that's where things get sketchy and money gets lost. But where you can really get dig in .. Things are so broken, and so desperate -- and its where you could find these like-minded, forward thinking people. Who would tear things up with you.

Okay. That one .. I meant to be a message. But the damage is done. x_x;