January 1st, 2016
|08:25 pm - :)|
Comment to be added.
Disclaimer: I am halfway interesting. I am however, opinionated, picky, and will not sugarcoat anything here. If you can’t take it then leave. If you
kiss my ass are a halfway decent person with a good head on your shoulders, we will get along just fine. If you do have something offensive to say, please use proper syntax, form, and grammar so I can at least understand what the fuck you're saying before I dismiss it.
Current Mood: content
February 11th, 2014
|04:32 pm - Hello|
I want to start using this again and be super candid. Is anyone reading still? :)
I will probably add more people I just want to know who is here. Speak up!
February 23rd, 2012
|09:29 pm - Now I am pissed off (at my neighbors). |
My neighbors officially crossed the line from being a pain in my ass to making me want to cuddle with a puke snarfing festering sputum bag from hell. I swear they spend their leisure time devising ever more ways to replace intellectual integrity.
They moved downstairs about a year ago.
I knew I didn't like them during my first encounter with them. I walked outside to walk my dog. The wife took a look at him, screamed, then pushed her two kids inside the house and gave me a look of death right before she slammed the door.
**Nice to meet you too, bitch.**
Sherlock is cute, okay? So fucking cute. He is a miniature dachshund, 13 pounds, 6 inches high and about 18 inches long. He is shy and avoids strangers. Good thing I am considerate to other people or else I would make him do his business on their front step. I got that same disrespectful look from her pretty much every time I saw her after that. Even from her kids. They wont acknowledge talk to me or my roommate, they will only talk to my fiance. That is because he has a heart of gold. After all, he is actually willing to be seen with me in public and sleep with me (totally kidding). But he really does have a heart of gold and people can sense it easily and take advantage. They certainly tried to.
A few weeks later we had a party on a Saturday night. They called the cops around 10:00 and had them break it up. I am not too mad at them about this one. We were loud. I more was annoyed that they disturbed my pleasant evening.
This is when I started feeling agitated:
-Some teenagers smoke pot a lot in the laundry room. Anyone can smell it because they smoke so much weed their bong gets washed more then their dishes. Now don't get me wrong, I am not hating. I enjoy the occasional blunt. But I do it discretely. It would be hard for the neighbors to smell it. Well, the assholes decided to call the apartment management and tell them it is us who were smoking and they think we are doing it right now. Our apartment got inspected
-They knocked on our door once at 2:00pm on Saturday afternoon asking us to please not make noise because there kids were trying to take a nap (their kids are at least 10). Tough life.
-They are constantly banging on their ceiling trying to get us to not make noise throughout the day. To them not making noise is to not talk, or walk. In fact if we quit doing both it would really convenience them. Noted.
-Speaking about silence, the husband is constantly on his cell phone shouting outside my window on a week night. Nice, I only wake up at 5:30am on weekdays to work.
-They complained to James when he threw a garbage bag down the stairs, walked downstairs, and through it in the dumpster. That bothered them.
This is when I started getting PISSED:
Last week they approached James and asked if they could put their satellite dish on OUR BALCONY. Oh hell no. Hell fucking no. If it was anyone else I would consider it. But I am not because:
-They will need to come into our apartment. To install it, to adjust it, etc. I don't want them near my shit.
-If ANYTHING happens to us they will come after us for it. Especially considering our history.
-They are assholes whose brain is immune to logic or any reasonable argument
They also called our apartment management office and asked if they could put their dish in our apartment. After multiple hits of rejection, the husband asked James again. James said no. The husband had the audacity to argue with him. I am convinced he wants to operate in the gray area between legitimate activity and power drunk totalitarianism.
James just sent me a text and said they approached him again tonight and asked him again about using our balcony. He gave a stern no and they got angry with him.
I am fuming that not only do they have the nerve to ask us for a favor, multiple times, but to approach James 4 times with ANGER. I swear to the Lords of Kobol if they come near him one more time I am going to pull the harassment card. Then they will be riding a tree hugging clown for nickels in a dilapidated hardware store. Assholes.
Current Mood: pissed off
November 15th, 2010
|04:25 pm - Twitter|
I swore I would never do this. I want to see what the big deal is...
Follow me! I swear you will never see any tweets on this LJ.
Current Mood: sleepy
July 8th, 2010
|06:54 pm - Paralysis|
One of my big fears is getting paralyzed.
I think it all started when myspace was big. I had (well, I still have) my default picture set as myself laying across my bed. You can only see my head and chest and I am laying down awkwardly. I guess someone in the wheelchair community on facebook came across me and assumed I was paralyzed. I ended up being intrigued with her. I added her back and we started chatting all the time through messenger and emails. She got into a car accident which injured her spine and she became paralyzed from the waist down.
Even though I felt bad, at the same time I was fascinated. I wanted to know everything. How she felt, how she went through her daily routine, how she had sex, etc.
I think we became rather close and made plans to meet, but of course that didn't happen.
But still in the meantime I lurked through paralyzing/wheelchair communities, members profiles etc. I even remembering following one girl who was paralyzed from waist down but making every effort to walk again. Her progress was amazing.
I remember there was one post that would help teach un-handicapped friends what it felt like to be paralyzed:
The Finger Trick:
-Take your hand (either one) and place palm side down on a table or any hard surface
-Bend your middle finger beneath your hand.
-With your fingers spread out try raising your pinky. You can do it without a problem.
-Now try raising you index finger. You can do it without a problem.
-Now try raising your ring finger. You can’t. No matter how hard you try, you are unable to pick it up.
It turns out this occurs because the reason your ring finger is unable to move while the middle finger is in that position is because the tendons are connected.I remember doing this and totally emphasizing what it felt like to not be able to move my legs. I was pretty obsessed.
All of the sudden out of the blue, I received daily friends requests from people who were paralyzed. Literally, no joke, I got several requests daily. I even got an email from a guy who said his girlfriend just lost use of her legs and he was hoping to befriend me to know what I felt like.
I don't know how this started, maybe people had trackers on their profiles and saw me looking. It is the only logical explanation I could think of. After this went on for months it started freaking me out. I changed my profile picture to myself standing up. Immediately the requests stopped.
Eventually facebook took over and everything stopped.
But I am still in total fear that I will wake up and my legs wont move. In fact, whenever I notice that I have been staying still for a long time I check my legs to make sure if I can move them. If I can feel my fingers run over them. Even though all my checks pass, I am still skeptical, and will constantly check.
Even when I wake up from a nap. I am starting to become un-logical
Does anyone else have a fear like that?
Current Mood: hot
Current Music: Slint - Don Aman
April 12th, 2010
|08:41 pm - LJ Idol Home Game - Token|
I stared into the darkness.
It was 3:49am and I felt soaked from night sweat. I wiped my bangs away from my forehead, which felt mounted on. Exposing my eyes made me realize he had been awake too, and we made contact.
I noticed sweat on his face by his eyes; I wondered it was tears knowing he was looking at me in the middle of the night for almost the last time.
He broke the silence. "Are you thirsty"?
"Yeah, let’s go". My nightmare was quite dehydrating.
Side by side we practically slept-walked into the kitchen and felt the cool floor impact our bare sweltered feet. He poured juice into two glasses, and we drank them simultaneously.
The drink felt tangy on my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored the energizing dance of sparkling pomegranate, mouth-watering apple, charged with a sugary after-taste. I swallowed and appreciated the cooling sensation as it traveled through me.
I felt the familiar awkward silence, so I leaned against the counter and let my mind wander. We all get anomalous feelings in our bodies, many which aren’t typically discussed with other people. Such as the fluttering of the eyelid when one is tired, an ache in the shin when it is about to rain, the relief after a blister is popped, or the nasty coating that covers teeth after enjoying candy. These feelings sit in our private thoughts until someone else shares that it happens to them too, and in that split moment a bond is shared; one that reconnects in the future when the feeling comes back.
My thoughts were interrupted when he spoke.
He asked Do you ever get that feeling in your body when you drink a cold drink, and feel the cool rush travel down your throat and hit your stomach?
I trembled. "Actually, I do".
I finished my juice and placed the empty glass back on the counter. When I turned around, we made eye contact a second time.
At that moment, I felt an odd bond. I loved his throat. I loved his esophagus that pushed the juice down into his stomach. I loved how the organs of his body worked to provide him with the nourishment needed to make him function, as it caused his legs to shiver, the exact same time I did. For the very last time, I loved him. I loved every cell, every atom that made up every organ in his body.
Then as another year crept by I slowly allowed our memories to fade, as it was the healthy thing to do. However, as much as one can forget, little pieces of information one has been given can come back to disturb.
Sort of like when I just had my orange juice. It tasted sweet and luscious going in, but it was cooling as it traveled down my throat, and put a frost into my stomach. That bond suddenly reconnected, and I recalled the last time I loved him.
Out of all the tastes, bitterness is known to be the most sensitive as it is repulsive and abrupt.
It is funny how the sweetest orange juice can quickly turn so bitter.
Current Mood: okay
Current Music: Grizzly Bear - All We Ask
May 13th, 2009
|06:56 pm - Guitar|
For those of you who asked:
Current Mood: groggy
April 23rd, 2009
|12:24 am - My last post about Billy Corgan ever.|
I am OFFICIALLY over Billy Corgan. His frolicking with Courtney Love started it, his sex sessions with Tila Tequilla strengthened it, but after watching this video?
It is motherfucking OVER.
Billy Corgan, I might have loved it when you would sing Zero, but now you have nothing but a divide-by-zero look on your face. To me you have become a preposterous, chromosome deficient object of execration.
Current Mood: refreshed
Current Music: Sufjan Stevens - To Be Alone With You
April 9th, 2009
|03:23 pm - brb|
BRB, in a few days. Or as my man Desmond would say, "See you in another life, brother". :)
March 29th, 2009
|08:30 pm - LJ Idol Week 27 - Step One - The Redo - Cracked Up|
It was quite difficult to walk, especially with so many eyes on me.
Something that came so naturally, something I have been doing since I was only a toddler can be forgotten instantaneously.
In my attempt, I would raise up one leg, bend my knee, and stumble as I put it down. My name was already called so even though I felt exposed, I had to keep walking to the balance beam - shocked that I didn’t fall over on the way.
My eyes looked at the crowd. Sitting there were so many people who had different meanings to me. In one area there were there was a group of girls who were always cruel to me but was there to support my teammates, on one end was my ex-boyfriend with his friends- probably there to watch the other girls in leotards, my crush at the time - hopefully there to see me, my parents, and friends.
Inside of us, there are so many different organs. All of these broken feelings may start in the brain, but when they get intense enough, the body physically feels the effects all over.
Heartbreak pumped from my heart; fear provided an uncomfortable sensation of warmth under my neck; anxiety tied a knot below my chest; weakness was dancing around in my legs.
Once the judges were ready for me one of them would salute me, by raising their hand in the air. Then when I am ready to mount onto the beam, I salute them back.
During the next eighty four seconds performing on an area only four inches wide and four feet in the air, I had to stay glued together.
Any minor error I made would be recorded and penalized by the judges. If I wore nail polish, adjusted my leotard, forget to point my toes, or even scratched an itch discretely, it would get noted. It was time to ignore my broken body and be strong.
Any major error would cause my bones to break, my skull to crack, my nose to bleed; therefore I would look on the outside the same way I did on the inside.
I pretended the balance beam was one long magnet. There were also magnets in my hands and feet, light enough so I could jump high into the air, yet strong enough so my body would stick back to the beam every time it left it.
I hopped on the vault, grabbed the beam with my hands, and held myself up in a handstand for a few seconds, spread my legs so I looked like the letter "T", and slowly brought them down in position so I was doing a center split across the beam. I put one hand in the air to pose, raised my back high, then winked at the judges.
They smiled, and wrote something down, they loved when the girls winked. When they acted like they weren’t in pain.
After standing up gracefully, I performed a series of acrobatic moves, turns, leaps, and dances, then worked my way to one end of the beam. I closed my eyes and focused.
I did two back handsprings, letting my hands glue to the softness of the light brown suede in between each one, turned, and did a front tuck to dismount. I bent my knee’s as my feet hit the floor, turned and did my ending salute.
There was my prompt to turn my body back to who I really was, a shattered girl hidden underneath pale skin.
* * * *
One can crack into software- illegally modifying it to remove protection methods.
People crack eggs every morning, watching the contents splatter on their pan, frying and making cackling sounds in their kitchen.
Some snort crack, inhaling the powder through their nose, and allow it to be absorbed into the bloodstream through the nasal tissues, making them feel euphoria, and in obtaining extreme confidence.
Even a diamond, which is the hardest naturally occurring material known due to the strong covalent bonds can crack, and possibly shatter relatively easily from impact of a hammer.
One’s health can break so easily by something that can‘t even be seen by the naked eye. A virus, an organism just 20 to 400 nanometers in diameter can move onto one microscopic humans cell, thus destroying the body.
So many things can crack so easily, so why can't I say that my brain is broken?
* * * *
I long for those eighty four seconds to return, since I felt obligated for all my body parts to be put together as one. The time when people would watch me in awe, as I turned into an exquisite magnet; causing balance, movement, and just downright existing to look so simple.
I may appear collected, but inside I am so delicate.
I fake confidence now just so I can walk properly. I look graceful as I can even though inside I hesitate. I smile big, and let it light up a room.
Everyday I drive my truck across a bridge, with the window open allowing the wind to blow my long blonde hair in many directions. I look at the beautiful body of the Hudson River, and day dream about making a sharp turn to the right, driving right into it.
When I would be found I know I would do good - my license indicates that I am an organ donor. However, I am concerned about the people who would get my parts.
My organs function from a brain that lacks the necessary hormones to keep myself happy.
I worry about who will wear my corneas, which helped me see what no woman should see.
I worry about the person who would receive my liver, which must be frail from all of those years of fostering the burdensome knot of anxiety that lays on top of it.
Most of all, I worry about the unlucky soul who will obtain the pieces left of my dissipating heart.
Current Mood: cold