Turns out I'm not a very good person.

Whatever my reasons for it - Be it loneliness, jealousy, boredom... Whatever.
I'm not good.

I know better.  Really, I do.

Major apologies. MAJOR apologies.

The thing that will be funniest to me is if I get home, and then can't sleep because of all of the caffeine I consumed today.

My life is ridiculous enough at times to where I fully expect this to happen.


I'm in a surprisingly chipper mood though, for trying to function on what adds up to about 2 hours of sleep (and not consecutive hours either).
Head's foggy, but I'm doing alright.

Onward.  Upward!

Just... No more. 

No more negativity.  No more dramatics.  No more self-pity/self-loathing/self-involvement BS.
No more taking things personally.
No more reading into things something that isn't there.

Good advice from someone right now is waking me up, and I know that I have some work to do in order to be who I want to be.

It's not too late.  I feel like I should tattoo that on my palm just to serve as a reminder.

It's not too late.

I'm awake.  Again.
And last week when this happened, I made the choice to just get up and take a walk at 6am.
This, of course, was before my emotional melee suck-fest 2009.

So now I'm awake, and know I should just go for a walk...

But fuck all if I can find the motivation to do so.  It's tough enough getting up for the day as it stands these days.
Of course, if I don't get up and take a walk, I'll be left to lay here, stare at the ceiling and mope, right?
I just fear that I won't be able to make it around the block before I collapse into a heavy blob of numbness and nothingness.

And considering I haven't seen anyone in the neighborhood with a wheelbarrow who might help a sistah out and get her home if/when that happens, it seems like it might be a good idea to be this heavy blob of numbness and nothingness right here for now.

I'm not making sense.  I know.  But it's 5 in the bloody morning, and I've slept all of 3 hours.
Seriously, it's amazing I'm not drooling on myself right now.
Oh, no wait. I am.  Someone get me a towel.

10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage Is "Wrong":

1) Being gay is not natural.
—And real Americans ALWAYS reject unnatural things… like eyeglasses, polyester, air conditioning, tattoos, piercings, and silicone breasts.

2) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay.
—In the same way that hanging with/around tall people will make you tall.

3) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior.

—People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract. Lamps are next.

4) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all.

—Hence why women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

5) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed.

—And we can't let the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage be destroyed.

6) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children.

—So therefore, gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our population isn't out of control, our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

7) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children
—Since, of course, straight parents only raise straight children.

8) Gay marriage is not supported by Christianity.

—In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

9) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home.

—Which is exactly why we, as a society, expressly forbid single parents to raise children… And why we ensure every parent is a perfect role model.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms.

—Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

via  onetwoawesome

less than 12 hours ago', you pretty much lost me.

i doubt you'll mourn this mental departure, and in a way, I kind of hope you don't.

I'd rather become nothing more than fleeting memory for you, because I'm rather embarrassed about it myself.

Good luck?

To "passing away"...

Godspeed, good sir.

I make me laugh. 

So do you.

That is all.

I'm overwhelmed by the cuteness.

Ovaries... Can't... Bizarro... Breathe....!...

More adorable animal-loving cuteness ---> here...

No, seriously.  I was just watching Drumline, and I actually welled up a few tears at the end.

I'm totally a nerd.  Not that I hide that well or anything.

Yeah, it's turned into a project.  I'm trying to do streaks on my head, and I have little sections wrapped in plastic to keep it away from the black dye, and it took forever to do, and really, this isn't interesting to anyone including myself.

But I made it through the larger part of the weekend, which is good.  The week will fly by because it'll be filled with bionic leg treatment, and before I know it, it will be Thursday, and I'll be free, goddamn it.

Yeah, I'm not feeling particularly eloquent today, and this blog has no porpoise.

Or does it?...

Yeah, no.  Still doesn't.

Damn.

When I was a kid, my dad had a video camera.  Actually, he had one long before I came along, but that's besides the point.  Like many dads of days past, mine would film your standard poignant family events - Birthdays, weddings, various holidays, the family outings at the park, and so forth.  He also shot footage of everyday occurences - Kids crying, laughing, mom cooking breakfast, sister falling on her ass...

Home movies were all the rage, and my dad was certainly no lagger.  No siree Bob.

Anyhow, like many home movies of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, the reels of footage ended up in a box somewhere in the garage.  Home projectors became relics, and likewise, so did the film on those reels.

Tangent (sorta):  My brother's always been amazing at getting gifts for my folks, in the omg-that's-so-thoughtful-I-could-barf sort of way.  For example, a few year Christmases ago, he had gone through my mom and dad's photo collection (because my dad was no lagger in that department either, lemme tell you), and scanned a whole bunch of them... Well, all of them really.  I'm talking photos from like when the camera was first invented.  Well, no.  Ok.  I exaggerate, but you know what I mean.  These are photos that went all the way back to like when my grandmother was not a grandmother at all - Photos from then, all the way up until yesterday when my dad snapped a shot of my baby niece.
Anyhow, he took all these photos, and selected several choice shots, and made this into a calendar for the upcoming year for my parents and the rest of the sibs.  It was gorgeous, and thoughtful, and just amazing... Way better than the slippers I got for my folks, by the way.

So how could he possibly top that, right?

This last Christmas, my brother somehow managed to locate these reels of film that no one's seen since 1987 or so.  I'm not sure how he did it - Probably one of those reel-to-digitized services, I'm sure - But he digitized the whole damned collection, cleaned them up a bit, and committed them to DVD for my folks.
Yeah, yeah.  He's amazing. 
And all I got them was a lousy card... Yeah, shut up.

Unfortunately, I wasn't at my folks' house when he presented them with this tremendous gift, but I'm sure there were tears and hugs and general happy-happy-joy-joy feelings all around.

So here's another side-tangent for ya:  I don't really remember my childhood all that well.  Or at all, really.  For some reason (one that I will not go into here), my mind chose to block everything out prior to 1986, when I had my first real mental breakdown.  I don't remember being a child.  I don't remember my birthdays, my toys, my games...  Only one or two memories of that time in the old noggin, and they're not pleasant ones.  We can leave it at that.

So I'm sitting here at my brother's computer, trying to synch up my thingamajig, but with no success.  And I start fiddling around with the pc, trying to figure out what the issue is.  As I did so, I stumbled upon his video folder, which had the reels of footage that he was cleaning up for my parents.
11 files in all, and I watched every single one of them. 
And honestly, I don't think I have ever cried so much in my entire life...

Granted, I wasn't in a whole lot of them - I think my dad was in the process of switching to video tape when I came along - But man alive!  There were people on there that I haven't seen in decades, and people I see now looking sooo different (time will do that, I hear).  My parents looked so young - Hell, EVERYONE looked so young.  Grandparents on there, aunts, uncles, old neighborhood family chums, our old house... And yeah, even a few instances of me as a kid - Not at all damaged and cute as a button, swinging at pinatas like my life depended on getting that fucking candy in my belly.  I even got to see my bitchface cousin who deserves death for a few seconds.

It was an incredible delight to see, I have to say.  Seriously.  My brother fucking rules the school, and you should all totally bow down when he comes to your town.

And now, I'm going to go to my room for a couple of hours to sob into my pillow because I'm feeling so sentimental and squishy and homesick and all of that.  I'll think of simpler times, when my brain wasn't quite such a dangerous place and the only thoughts in my head were about pinata candy and how pretty my mom is.
And when I come out, I'll hope against hope that I can find a way to get back to that place, even if only for just a few seconds.
Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

I've been asleep for 3 days...

Even when I've been conscious, I've only been semi-conscious.

And if there's a quiet moment at all, I become narcoleptic, pass out, go dead to the world again.

I'm not this tired, really.  But my brain thinks it is.

I need to wake up... I need a red bull.  A rockstar.  A big syringe full of adrenaline.

Falling asleep again... Argh.