Reason Number 97 as to why living with your parents is not cool:

Coming home at midnight to find them in the shower, hearing things and needing to pee.


On another note. I just saw Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. She's an alright flick. I give her 3 stars. Nothing to spooge over but worth a gander. (who am I??)

The source of this information is uniformed (aka from my older brother):

If you catch the news tonight and see something about some lady murdering (stabbing actually) her two children and then attempting to kill herself... Know that it is less than five minutes from my house.

I haven't checked on any of this so pooh on me if it's wrong. I warned you. I admitted it. Now I rely on you to watch and tell me what's what. I never watch the news. I get all the news I need on the weather report (gold star for anyone who can tell me where this last sentence comes from).

Wow. My phone rang a lot last night. Amazing. Well I never got any of those calls actually until a little while ago... See I was at this therapist last night so I silenced my phone and forgot to unsilence it. No vibrations, no ringing, nothing. I had no idea and didn't think twice about it because after the session I did an obscene amount of drugs and passed out without doing my writing for today. So now I'm going to class without work and feeling sick inside and hating myself a lot. I feel like a waste of space and a disappointment today. Hopefully I'll feel better about things later. Sorry all of you wonderful people who attempted to try to talk to me (though I couldn't understand why you'd want to...). I'll call each of you soon to tell you this with my own voice. Later kiddies.

A second ago, THIS brought tears of joy and laughter to my patriotic eyes (get it? red, white and blue!... yeah i know it's stupid.) and this scared me.

The other night I watched Ming Tsai pump air into a duck's skin with a compressor. It was sick (in more ways than one- meaning both good and bad in this case). I thought about doing that to a person, while they were still alive. I thought about my grandmother in the physical therapy treatment center and all the tubes they stick into people at hospitals and what if someone just took one end and blew into it with all the air in their lungs. How quickly do they die?

I saw a guy laying in the street today when I was walking to class. He had blood on his hands and a tear in his spandex- a bike messenger I'd guess. I wish I had seen the accident. I wish I had seen the car slam into him. I wanted to hear the thud, hear the squeal, and the scream. I heard the ambulance in the distance and it was the third one I had either seen or heard in the twenty minutes it takes me to walk from Union to the south loop.

Yesterday I saw a car stalled in a turn lane. When I pulled up next to it I noticed that there was another car, on the other side of the street, in a tree. It was amazing. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how the accident actually happened. It didn't make sense in my head, but then again nothing does these days.

I'm starting to have second thoughts. I'm starting to second guess myself. In a second I'm going to go away for a while and I'm not sure when I'll be back. I need to escape again. I need to run away again- another quick fix. Mostly I just want to be left alone. I don't want to talk to anyone or have anyone come knocking on my door. If only I could kill the things that yell when my door is shut. If only I could take a baseball bat and purge this obvious anger management issue that is completely out of control inside me right now. There are people that, when I see them, I see red. I don't want anyone on that side of the fence. Stay away, please. I don't want to hate you- and worse- I don't want you to hate me.

When I was a little girl I used to love to play in the dirt and mud. I would take my little plastic shovels or steal a small metal one from my mother's gardening tools and go off to a secret corner of my back yard and dig holes. I still like playing in the dirt, but now the holes that I dig for myself end up far larger and more interesting. Currently I'm standing at the bottom of the biggest hole that I have ever dug, staring up at what could be the sun- but it's been so long since I've seen the sunlight that I'm starting to forget what it looks like.

I'm failing my fiction workshop. The only class this semester that I have for my major and I'm failing it because of absences. I got an email from my teacher yesterday. She recommends that I drop it. The last day to drop classes without being screwed was Friday. I'm screwed. Do I even need to mention how this will effect my attempt to graduate?

If my theRAPIST gives me drugs I'll swallow the whole bottle with a tall glass of whiskey. It'll be a wonderful sleep. I'll die with a smile on my face.

I had fun. So much in fact that somehow I broke out into hives. Strange. I think it was IHOP. I haven't been to that shithole in years but it was a cheap simple meeting place. Needless to say I'm not going to be rushing back there. Apparently I'm allergic.

The night is young and I'm not cashing in yet, despite my irritated skin. Tomorrow I have a date with this cat named Melvin. He's so handsome. Cheers!

Your Linguistic Profile:

70% General American English

15% Yankee

10% Upper Midwestern

5% Midwestern

0% Dixie

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Damn I look sexy tonight! Watch out men! There's a red headed vixen on the loose tonight! I'd take a picture and prove it to you but since I'm lacking the technology you'll either have to take my word for it- or come and have a drink with me and see for yourself. I'm not normally so ready to compliment myself. Something in the air today has told me that tonight is going to be exceptional. We shall see what the moon brings me, but hopefully it'll be a man with a cute ass. cheers, fuckface!

Here's an excerpt from a journal entry I did for one of my writing classes...

I've never felt content with the way the world works, with life. I convinced myself a long time ago that I needed to be able to believe that extraordinary things could be possible- that I could someday be able to see through to the other side of the mirror or find a doorway to someplace fantastic, fall through a puddle, or just wake up from a dream to a new reality. It hasn't happened yet, obviously, so in the mean time I have fun making up the stories in my head. I read books like The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe a million times over and cling my dreams. I find comfort in sureality.

I don't seek perfection, but just something new. In my writing that is often what I try to create but it is also where I feel that I fail. I've had a million debates in my head about originality and how so often it seems that it's all been done before. Then again, that is where the actual challenge is and what separates good writers from bad- what I hope to master.

Magic. Magical realism. It's absurd or fantastic but to be able to take an idea, or a dream, and be able to put into words on paper and paint that picture for the mind's eye to see- so clear and vivid- makes it real if only in that moment. That's the real magic.

Writing is and should be considered an art and I believe that art has two main functions (for me at least). One. to make a statement about life or something like it. Two. to escape. Good writing does both of those things. It makes you think or conveys something but at the same time captivates your brain. It's a tool. A voice. It's all just magic- slight of hand- an illusion. You have to believe it's real. You have to want to believe it, and if the writing is strong and if the story is told so deeply then the illusion can become real like magic.


There's more but you get the picture and I do a bit of rambling on tangents because my brain is crazy like that. Writing these past 2 days has been crazy and if I weren't a lazy fuck I'd post a tit bit or two of what came out of my brain. Sorry, suckers. Maybe you'll get lucky tomorrow.

I will however share a few moments in my history...


While walking to the train station from class a scary older man began walking behind me and out of the corner of my eye I watched him follow me for 2 blocks. I, of course, was wearing headphones but could still hear certain unappreciated nothings coming from the man's mouth. I wanted to peel out of my skin and melt down one of those iron grates and at the same time turn around and kick the shit out of his member. (sigh... Which brings me to the second moment in history)

Hell has really frozen over. Some people by cell phones. Some people stop eating steak 7 days a week. Others agree to go into therapy.

While journeying to a restaurant with Some Idiot I was almost hit by some ass munching 17 year olds in their daddy's SUV. The little shit tried to pull out in front of me at the last second. The driver and I locked eyes of rage at one another and I proceeded to flick him off. Watching as I drove farther away I saw, in my rear view mirror a mini van behind me swerve around the same penis wrinkle. We arrived at our destination and parked and began walking up to the door when out of the mist appeared a very familiar SUV with very familiar looking chodes inside of it. They blasted on loud long honk at my gentleman friend and I before shooting the bird, smiling, and speeding away and out of the parking lot. I haven't laughed that hard in such a long while. It felt good. If only I could thank them.

Lastly, tomorrow I will turn in my graduation application. (double sigh...)

Did someone cut off one of my arms when I was sleeping? Or maybe it was in one of my stumbling drunken/stoned hazes. Something has gone wrong inside me and I'm very casually ruining my entire life because of it. I've definitely lost something and I'm sure that if I don't find it soon I'll end up somewhere that I really won't like.

I'm sick.

I'm starting to get scared.

Bring it on. I've heard it all before. Tell me to go see someone, I dare you. Tell me to go see some doctor so that they can either shove anti-depressants etc. down my throat and/or tell me that I need to find a way to be motivated or something again. I won't take those pills. I know what I need to do but knowing and doing are two very different things, my friends. Very different indeed. So while my life is going down the drain, like the vomit I saw earlier today, you should probably keep your distance from me. You may get sucked in to my vortex of hell. Fear me.

Ah the wonderful rollercoaster of life. How I admire it's many twists and turns, large stomach flopping drops and crazy upside down plunges. I met with my academic advisor today to confirm whether or not a December graduation would even be possible. It is but it isn't and I have a week to figure it out. See the thing is I didn't realize that I needed 2 specialty classes along with some gen. eds. So my whole plan just got a fuck ton more complicated. The answer is pretty clear to me right now but I'm not ready to settle for a spring 2005 graduation just yet. Give me a day or so of crying and depression of being trapped for another fucking year at Columbia and I'll grin and bare it like I do everything else in my life that's generally shitty (which is 99% of all things me).

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Since silent screaming is all i can give right now I will do just that. There won't be many more words from me, but I don't think you're listening anyway.

I crave isolation. I fall in love over and over again with the fantasy of seeing myself off alone living in a little cave near an ocean. I'd be sitting in front of a small fire right now, outside my little cave, counting stars. I'd spend afternoons swimming and exploring and just listening. Listening to the waves and the gulls. I'm a good listener. I'm much happier listening than talking. I often wonder how long I could really go without saying a single word. If I were living in my little cave I'd write stories and letters to all my imaginary friends and put them in bottles and throw them into the ocean. Maybe I'd make jewelry out of the stones and shells I found on the beach. I'd sit in front of my little fire and wonder if anyone had found them or if they were sitting in the stomach of an whale. Oh, if I could be anywhere in the world right now... There I could forget about television and cell phones and the internet. I could forget about driving cars and riding on trains. I could forget that nervous pinch that pops into my stomach whenever people are around me. I could be happy there.

If you don't see me, don't be surprised. If you call me and I don't answer, don't be surprised. I think it's time to disappear for a while... a long while.

It's always predictable when I get woken up by the sound of my phone ringing, tearing me away from whatever magical place my mind had put me in for the night. Most times I feel angry for being taken and put back into reality but there are some nights when I need saving. There are some nights where my dreams feel out of my control. There are nights like last night. I dreamt about being raped... Again and again and again and again to the point where I couldn't feel anything anymore and I thought that I was dead when I heard the phone ringing and it was over.

And then there was the night before when I was dreaming about my brother. I hate him. (For your own information, I don't use that word lightly. Ever.) My family was plaguing what could have been a wonderful dream. I remember everything looking better than it really does but then he showed up. At one point I walked up to him and screamed at him, telling him that I hated him, and slapping him over and over across the face. He smiled at me and I grabbed him with both hands around his neck and squeezed. I strangled my brother, crying the entire time, and he just kept looking up at me smiling.

In my dream I let him. I had no will to fight. I didn't care. I felt dead already and I just let it happen. I'm not usually the victim in my dreams and if I am I can usually turn things around in the end. It's been so long since...

I cut myself every time I shave my legs. Well, 9 times out of 10 anyway. When I hung up the phone I lay in bed feeling dead and numb and started to cry. I got up and felt like a zombie taking a shower. I wanted to cut myself. I wanted to see the blood and feel the pain and know that I really was alive inside and that my heart was beating and that I could really feel things but I didn't. I didn't want to do it on purpose. I'm not that kind of freak. I wanted it to just happen, like it almost always does but I've never been lucky. So I sat there minutes later, watching the water go down the drain, hugging my knees and counting my scars.

I still feel like a zombie. I still feel like I want to be reminded of what pain feels like, just to remind myself.