so i'm blabbering again. i need to go to bed - i should have 2 hours ago. whatever. i think i'll get up extra early and walk to work. as long as it's not raining.
all i want to do is read depressing things and wish my life were different. i'm pathetic because my life is pretty good, besides the fact that i have no motivation for a career and my ultimate goal is to be a simple homemaker with no life outside of the kitchen. and to not have to deal with cold weather 75% if the year and cloudy shitty skies. but why am i complaining. i don't have to pay for rent or food (unless i want to), i have a terrific relationship and a really good job. i'm just stuck back in the same place i was a couple years ago. not that my life in the apartment was any better. i hated being stressed about money, not having the energy to keep the place clean, not having any time or space to myself, etc., etc.
i would rant in my blog but i don't like using it because someone i would rather forget likes to leave me comments with his email address in them (which was blocked on the only account he knew, which has since lapsed). i was a stupid fucking teenager. my brother is the same, only stupider. it's not unrealistic to live in a world where everyone wears black and listens to morbid shit and writes crappy poetry. it's unrealistic to live in a world where everyone is part animal. it's disgusting. lack of socialization is not healthy. i don't enjoy socialization but i at least get out and go to work and shit like that.
whinewhinewhine when i should be in bed sleeping.
my mom keeps asking me if i am ok, i know she means about my dad, i don't even know what is going on with that anymore. first he was moving in with my best friend's mom's crazy stalker ex-boyfriend and then i overheard him calling the guy and telling him he wouldn't be moving in with him so either he is staying or is going somewhere else....they have been sleeping in the same bed again, but with their heads at the foot of the bed. interesting. i always find myself unrested when i do that (and it's never on purpose).
i need some more dolls. i haven't bought any in a while. more are coming out soon. i had a dream last night that two of the three dolls i sleep with (the ones i hug, not the many that happen to live on my bed) fell out of bed. when i woke up they had. serves me right for facing the outside of the bed instead of the wall. i think it's bad for my spine to sleep facing that way anyway. it's curved because one of my legs is half an inch shorter than the other (yet they are both way too short, i gots the stubby fatlegs). crazy shit.
i have thought of applying as an SG for months. before i got a membership. some days i think "fuck yes, i could get in! i even have three or four ideas for sets!" and then i look down at my stretch marks (i was a chubby kid and my weight has fluctuated a lot since i was 13) and those weird purpley spider vein thingies on my thighs (should i even have those? i'm only 20) and my fat stubby legs and inexplicable recurring chest acne and and and....
at this point i don't even want a digital camera like i intended to buy recently as one of my "while-i-can-afford-it" purchases (speaking of which, i really need to decide what i want to go with for a tattoo, i think that would be good for me right now. i think i might want the jack o lanterns most of all to remind myself that i will probably never get to have another fun Halloween because i am always either sick or working and i don't like parties anyway). i used to love taking pictures of myself and others. at one point the wall that is now behind my computer was absolutely plastered with photos. when i took them down i was able to take most of it off in one piece. i used to trek to the cemetery (the one with the beautiful big monuments dating back to the 18th century in some cases and the nice tree that even i could climb and sit in the fork of to read...some jerkoffs adopted the road next to it and took out the old chain link fence and replaced it with this horrible unfinished wood thing) with a couple friends, wearing as much black makeup as we could find and in cloaks and shit and take pictures among the blood red leaves and rain-darkened stones. i was 15 at the time. and i wonder why i have nobody to bring along for tea parties with dollies among the rows of graves. if i had a friend who would gladly do silly little goth girl shit like that with me, i would be so happy, but all my girl friends ever want to do is drink and party, smoke and party, be philosophical, shit like that. which is ok, but i just want to giggle and eat little bat cookies on a blanket in the cemetary with my dollies.
can you tell i have some issues with childhood? i wasn't a very happy kid at all. i played by myself. i was very imaginative. i couldn't relate to the other kids then and i can't relate to kids now. i feel awkward around children at best.
the only class i completed at public high school my senior year was creative writing. i needed half of an english credit to graduate so i took the one semester course. i had a ton of fun and all of my stories were nonsensical and usually intentionally hilarious. i would take a basic prompt and twist it into something surreal and bizarre (often with gay or gender-bending themes, i think i may have a subconscious desire to shock). one big project was a story i labored over about a little penguin who left Antarctica and was eventually picked up by a Green Peace boat. i was confused when the teacher tried to categorize it. it was just a story about a penguin, it wasn't intended for children or as satire. i hated the final assignment: the telling of a real life experience. i wish i could have skipped it. i hate writing about real life, i hate drawing real life (it's too easy in most cases). why make art of something that already exists when you can create something new? maybe someday i'll start writing again. i love my journal from that class, though half of the pages are more doodles of anthropomorphic produce and flowers with attitudes than actual writing.
i think i might actually use that black hair dye that i bought a couple weeks ago. it's not exactly the kind i wanted but it's acceptable. and maybe i will also shave the sides of my head. i brushed my hair ONCE the other day (i haven't brushed it in like three years - i had dreads, then i shaved, and just recently began growing it again) and it's been pretty much straight since. it was very curly for a while but that one brushing made it very smooth. if i dye it i will brush it more often to keep it straightish. i think the hairstyle will look good on me. i don't intend to ever wear it "up" as an actual mohawk, i just like the style, like it looks as if i have normal long hair if it's down but if i pull it back it's like insta-freak!
i have talked a lot but i do feel better now. i definitely don't expect anyone to bother reading as i'm not anybody around here.
time to clean off my bed, set my alarm, brush my teeth. do shit. i put off going to bed because it's too involved.
all i want to do is read depressing things and wish my life were different. i'm pathetic because my life is pretty good, besides the fact that i have no motivation for a career and my ultimate goal is to be a simple homemaker with no life outside of the kitchen. and to not have to deal with cold weather 75% if the year and cloudy shitty skies. but why am i complaining. i don't have to pay for rent or food (unless i want to), i have a terrific relationship and a really good job. i'm just stuck back in the same place i was a couple years ago. not that my life in the apartment was any better. i hated being stressed about money, not having the energy to keep the place clean, not having any time or space to myself, etc., etc.
i would rant in my blog but i don't like using it because someone i would rather forget likes to leave me comments with his email address in them (which was blocked on the only account he knew, which has since lapsed). i was a stupid fucking teenager. my brother is the same, only stupider. it's not unrealistic to live in a world where everyone wears black and listens to morbid shit and writes crappy poetry. it's unrealistic to live in a world where everyone is part animal. it's disgusting. lack of socialization is not healthy. i don't enjoy socialization but i at least get out and go to work and shit like that.
whinewhinewhine when i should be in bed sleeping.
my mom keeps asking me if i am ok, i know she means about my dad, i don't even know what is going on with that anymore. first he was moving in with my best friend's mom's crazy stalker ex-boyfriend and then i overheard him calling the guy and telling him he wouldn't be moving in with him so either he is staying or is going somewhere else....they have been sleeping in the same bed again, but with their heads at the foot of the bed. interesting. i always find myself unrested when i do that (and it's never on purpose).
i need some more dolls. i haven't bought any in a while. more are coming out soon. i had a dream last night that two of the three dolls i sleep with (the ones i hug, not the many that happen to live on my bed) fell out of bed. when i woke up they had. serves me right for facing the outside of the bed instead of the wall. i think it's bad for my spine to sleep facing that way anyway. it's curved because one of my legs is half an inch shorter than the other (yet they are both way too short, i gots the stubby fatlegs). crazy shit.
i have thought of applying as an SG for months. before i got a membership. some days i think "fuck yes, i could get in! i even have three or four ideas for sets!" and then i look down at my stretch marks (i was a chubby kid and my weight has fluctuated a lot since i was 13) and those weird purpley spider vein thingies on my thighs (should i even have those? i'm only 20) and my fat stubby legs and inexplicable recurring chest acne and and and....
at this point i don't even want a digital camera like i intended to buy recently as one of my "while-i-can-afford-it" purchases (speaking of which, i really need to decide what i want to go with for a tattoo, i think that would be good for me right now. i think i might want the jack o lanterns most of all to remind myself that i will probably never get to have another fun Halloween because i am always either sick or working and i don't like parties anyway). i used to love taking pictures of myself and others. at one point the wall that is now behind my computer was absolutely plastered with photos. when i took them down i was able to take most of it off in one piece. i used to trek to the cemetery (the one with the beautiful big monuments dating back to the 18th century in some cases and the nice tree that even i could climb and sit in the fork of to read...some jerkoffs adopted the road next to it and took out the old chain link fence and replaced it with this horrible unfinished wood thing) with a couple friends, wearing as much black makeup as we could find and in cloaks and shit and take pictures among the blood red leaves and rain-darkened stones. i was 15 at the time. and i wonder why i have nobody to bring along for tea parties with dollies among the rows of graves. if i had a friend who would gladly do silly little goth girl shit like that with me, i would be so happy, but all my girl friends ever want to do is drink and party, smoke and party, be philosophical, shit like that. which is ok, but i just want to giggle and eat little bat cookies on a blanket in the cemetary with my dollies.
can you tell i have some issues with childhood? i wasn't a very happy kid at all. i played by myself. i was very imaginative. i couldn't relate to the other kids then and i can't relate to kids now. i feel awkward around children at best.
the only class i completed at public high school my senior year was creative writing. i needed half of an english credit to graduate so i took the one semester course. i had a ton of fun and all of my stories were nonsensical and usually intentionally hilarious. i would take a basic prompt and twist it into something surreal and bizarre (often with gay or gender-bending themes, i think i may have a subconscious desire to shock). one big project was a story i labored over about a little penguin who left Antarctica and was eventually picked up by a Green Peace boat. i was confused when the teacher tried to categorize it. it was just a story about a penguin, it wasn't intended for children or as satire. i hated the final assignment: the telling of a real life experience. i wish i could have skipped it. i hate writing about real life, i hate drawing real life (it's too easy in most cases). why make art of something that already exists when you can create something new? maybe someday i'll start writing again. i love my journal from that class, though half of the pages are more doodles of anthropomorphic produce and flowers with attitudes than actual writing.
i think i might actually use that black hair dye that i bought a couple weeks ago. it's not exactly the kind i wanted but it's acceptable. and maybe i will also shave the sides of my head. i brushed my hair ONCE the other day (i haven't brushed it in like three years - i had dreads, then i shaved, and just recently began growing it again) and it's been pretty much straight since. it was very curly for a while but that one brushing made it very smooth. if i dye it i will brush it more often to keep it straightish. i think the hairstyle will look good on me. i don't intend to ever wear it "up" as an actual mohawk, i just like the style, like it looks as if i have normal long hair if it's down but if i pull it back it's like insta-freak!
i have talked a lot but i do feel better now. i definitely don't expect anyone to bother reading as i'm not anybody around here.
time to clean off my bed, set my alarm, brush my teeth. do shit. i put off going to bed because it's too involved.