Sensibility

I know what you're thinking, and I don't know what to say to properly justify my actions. But I want you to know that I respect your opinion and in a way share it, but being that I am in the action, I can't quite rationalize. You know? I hope that you too can respect my decision. It's the only way to get along.

Its only life!

whatever.

Cam McPhee

What if there was this woman whose profession was that of a waxer. Day in and day out she saw vagina, and armpit, and upper lip, and back, and leg. And waxed it. She became sort of sexless you know, and I mean, nothing really turned her on, except really grotesque things. Like, lesions, or herpes, or like gimps. People with one arm. ? dumb.

I'd like to go anywhere with this. Lets see. What if it was more than her not being able to get her jollies? i mean i guess she could do some real depraved and sickly erotic things. ..ugh.

ok, lets say she had some high profile people as clients. and she kept their unwanted hair. and sold it on ebay? NO. put up cameras and filmed it? um. sold secrets about her clients to the paparrazi? ...um.

kept their unwanted hair, and made little voodoo dolls out of them. but why is she such a creep? this angle sucks bangkok.

ok, she had any old regular clients, and really started loathing her job. and she would leave trails of hair in places that they couldn't see as her own personal sort of fuck you. ok that could be like a tick of hers.

hm.

And she has a pet bananna snake. And hardwood floors. And marble counters. And she sleeps on silk sheets. And her hair is glossy all the time, from every angle, not only when the light hits it just so. And she has green eyes like Harry Potter, who she hates simply because of his unfortunate name.

?

I was recently floored by a <3to<3 that Frances and I shared this past weekend (and to really shake up the tamborine, they weren't alcohol-fueled). I hope that we can pragmatically move past the bullshit, but more than that I hope that I can get over the mental problems that I have with her. Get over her need for attention, her poser-ness, her LA-chic-fake. I know she has a lot to offer, and honestly, it's not like she's leaving my life any minute (especially because of Kyle). So, I guess I'll just have to offer the olive branch, and accept hers.

I'm still torn about what I need to do about my mental situation. And it isn't like I haven't tried behavior management techniques, and such, that's what I've been doing in therapy for the past five months. But sometimes the overwhelming desire to act a certain way trumps any sense of rationality that I have, its like I completely let this darkness ooze over me and this gruesome transformation takes place and everything just falls into the toilet. ALKJF! And I want people to know that all the progress I've made, and we've made, its important to me, it means everything!- and I don't want to seem like this fuckup who's always making bullshit excuses. I sound like such a whiny victim or something.

It's just alot harder than I thought it would be, that's all. And it doesn't help that as soon as I thought I going the right way home, I learned that home was in fact, 2o minutes in the opposite direction.

And it doesn't help that winter is coming upon us, and I get SAD. So...I just have to keep on it.

-

i dont know who to talk to about this to. i went in to therapy today and talked about my recurring dreams and my less than stellar moods. she thinks i go into patterns of depression related to hormone activity. and that i should really consider becoming medicated.

i just want to cry, really. everytime i feel like things are getting better, something inside of me always finds a crack and hammers and chips until its wide open. i've been getting really testy with kyle again, and have had to literally bite my lip until it bleeds. and i cannot be in the same room with other certain people because i can actually feel heat rising to my ears. i misconstrue things and push people away and assume that i am being shafted and its fucking pathetic. the world is against me mentality is back with a vengeance, and i really thought that i had it under control.

why i am i so fucking bent out of shape?

Dear Universe,

Are we cosmically connected? What's the blue jay way, anyway? What's with animal mating procedures? Why are you expanding? How do you cure plant diseases? Who was the first person to have aids? Did he pass it on? Was it a girl? Who thought of cross breeding? Could I cross a kiwi and a mango? What would I call it-kiango? Mangiwi?

Is asking stupid questions stupid? My creative non fiction professor seems to be so interested in everything, like the ceiling patterns of dots on the dumb ceiling in class, or the periodic table of elements, and grackles (annoying genus of blackbirds), and roadkill science, and like everything under the sun. And he just wonders and wonders and wonders.

I mean, how do you dispel so much energy on everything like that? Do you fake it? Is that what people who aren't really good at anything in particular do? Be amazed? Is everything really that interesting? Am I bored, or boring- jaded?

I remember a time when I knew people who did cool things and were nonplussed and i thought, gee, I wouldn't shut up about it if that were me. And I didn't. When did I stop talking so much, and when did I stop smelling the roses?

Universe, will you slap me back to a happier time? Like when recess was awesome, and like the squishy-ness of the tethered ball was awesome, and when it was weird how soft my hands got after monkeying on the bars, and even doing homework was sort of fun because I wanted to get everything right and impress my teacher. And like when I used to get check minuses because I was a talkative annoyance.

I guess its happy now too, I just need to remember to like, let life wash over me again. Connect with you, Universe. Sometimes, anytime.

Your old friend,
Gagz

(does anything ever make any sense?)

+

Its stupid, I know, stupid stupid stupid how schoolgirlish I am. So unbecoming of a person of my character? But I am this, you know? Cant you tell that this is exactly how I should be acting? People will say that the immaturity I display in my life is...immature. But raw emotions are real. pure. doesn't that count for something, or am i being totally off base here?

i know that everyone makes fun of me, and its okay, and i act all offended and cant take jokes. but it makes me so self-conscious and helps me to realize that, oh, ok, so wow, thats how im being perceived. and its an embarrasing sort of insight, if that makes any sense. i have this vision of myself as being cool, calm, and collected. wow, so thats not right.

i like that i can snuggle my boyfriend. and be around him, and love him. And it wont ever bother me again that people think it's "middle school". (well it might) I could try to be all nonchalant with him. and it isnt even a thing about not being able to keep my hands off of him (which i admit, is a problem), but I could you know? I don't want to. I suppose that sort of thing is really uncomfortable for people and- its a bit immature and a bit selfish and no one wants to see that sort of deal so can i please stop?- but can i be frank? I have always, for a lack of a better cliche, wore my heart on my sleeve. I am, in my opinion, and others' might agree, the most transparent person on the planet. Always expressing my emotional palette on my face, with my body language, and sometimes even with actual, you know, dialogue. So why stop now? I have no real incentive to do so anyway.

and can I tell you something HELLAGAY? I dont care who knows, i want everyone to know. It's truly, madly, deeply. this romance, is so romantic. and thats what i think we are...(which could be highly deluded and definately egocentric, but leaps and bounds better than middle school. middle school? middleschoool? how altogether cheapened and meager.)

wow, i've done alot of like constructive rambling. constructive because i didn't just talk in beautiful metaphors. but rambling because i'm usually so concise and like word-anorexic. well.

Radiance

Inside of me it feels like a time lapse of cherry blossoms flourishing after their winter chill on planet earth.

Whats with you, these days? How do you do, how is your life so splendidly whimsical? Sometimes I wonder if I am interpreting things the way I would want, are your eyes so wonderfully glazed with a corporal mist? (could it be vacancy?) And this content sort of smile. But what makes it so? Slightly slanted upwards on the right, almost enchanting. (could it be smarmy?)

It's cold, you know? Fall in full swing and all, but the sun's out.

Root= Self

You know you do things sometimes and you dont realize why or how they came about- and then you try to justify it and its sort of hard to? And then you take a good long look and you realize that your probably really childish/ or immature/ or really emotionally charged and talk it out with your therapist or your best friend or your boyfriend and see the light? and then theres an opportunity to save the situation or apologize and do you take it? its the hardest thing in the world admitting that you've acted in a way to undermine a relationship (which is more than merely undermining a person) especially when you know yourself to be so. very. involved. 

I've been talking to Ryan about how much I don't want to be a bitchy person anymore, but everysooften I find myself unable to control that ugly part of myself. and that part of my brain which makes (ir)rationalizations. I thought I was getting better, but I've started this ridiculous cycle with Kent that is completely killer in a bad way. Have I really just transferred everyone of my insecurities onto that relationship? The one that I feel needs it the least, at least this point in time. So I've pinpointed the problem, lets see how this pans out.

When dreams make you feel funny

What about that odd series of dreams that I had last night that added up to a giant clusterfuck of what. the. heck? 

 There was an open sea with many people swimming and having a great time. I was with a family of mexicans (?) who I have never met in my waking life and then out of the clear water I see the dark shadow of a large creature. I tell them that I think a shark is in the water and then jaws itself comes up razor sharp teeth blazing in the sun. I get on a pink floaty raft and the family is still in the water. Everyone is screaming and swimming away and sharkie jumps into the air and makes a grab for the 8ish old girl. Everyone is sad that she died. 

  I am going to a house, but it is sort of a shanty village I am walking through. On the first house there are poodles who are being groomed and what not, they are beautiful and majestic. That is what I remember thinking about them in my dream. The next house has homeless raggedy dogs. They are skinny and balding and are flanked by flies. The steps to the wooden screen door are run down, Barn red in crayola crayon terms. I enter and there is a brothel. Everyone is beautiful, and having sex. I dont know how but I find myself having anal sex. Its one of those things where the dream just picks up from a different part? I can feel the pressure in my stomach and it affects my breathing in a very real way. Like I am being fucked to death in the ass. Anyway, Kent comes and takes a picture and says "sweet." 

 I am home with my parents and I am in a massive hurry to leave because I am worried about being taken away to the basement (we dont have one in reality) and having tests performed on me. My parents keep trying to persuade me to stay and assuage any fears I have. I tell them I will stay but I need to sleep, they agree. I sneak into the basement and find all sorts of weird devices and body functions monitoring equipment. I hear my parents come down and I hide behind some weird thing that I dont know what to call. I feel really tense and amped up.

When I wake up I feel oh so tired. And my hearts pumping so fast I'm dizzy. I want less vivid dreams...also happier ones. 

phrases that crack me up

"(____) cracks me up"

"are you serious?"

"what the fuck?" (if said with a certain kind of emphasis)

also: mental masturbation. 

also, kyle just asked me if i wanted to smell what his wet spot smelled like. which also could be a little funny to some people. but disgusting to me.

also, i will add more to this list once i think of it

Creative people and mental illness revisited

REMEMBER THIS:

creative people and mental illness
I came across an interesting section while I was in the library (where i currently am "working" on a paper) that showed the extensive amount of research done on the subject of creative people and mental illnesses/depression/suicide. (Now I know what you are thinking, but don't worry, I don't think that I am apart of this illustrious group of people.) Apparently researchers have looked into how the brains of creative people function differently from the rest of the population, which sometimes renders them unable to cope with things, etc. Perhaps it takes a certain level of insanity to produce creative works of ________. Or perhaps it is because creative people are hypersensitive to the critiques of their work? I should read about it and find out and report back.

i was "writing" a paper today in the library and decided to take a "break from writing" and learn a bit more about this strange correlation. apparently, it is not that creative people are unable to necessarily cope with things. Its more about the chemistry in their brain that allows them to see things in an artistic and creative manner, and how researchers think that since that part of the brain is so large, everything else is stunted. thus when one is creative, it is possible that he has not properly learned basic social customs. thus creating a vicious cycle in which he goes deeper and deeper into a black hole of hating society. etc. also everyone knows of the tortured artist type. the no-one-gets-my-genius-type. 

i thought the research would have been more geared at actual brain chemistry and neurological differences, but alas! Just people grasping at straws. 

Chinese communism: A historical tradition?

Deep in the historical psyche of the chinese, there lies a simple paradigm that suggests that the current regime of communism isn't so unwarranted. MORE ABOUT THIS LATER GYMNASTICS IS ON

i lost a pad of paper that i had been writing in and now my thoughts and private ramblings about everything and nothing in particular is lost and a piece of me is lost. will i ever think those things again.? or will i think them again and think it something new? how to keep track

i was just thinking about how i know that ive had a great night based on whether or not i come back in tatters. tatters especially in regards with jewelry. its always a mistake to wear a necklace to a party because it will break, but what about when you wear it out on a regular night and it breaks anyway? Bodacious.

little things that sometimes are forgotten but shouldn't be

how slippery skin feels right after you wash the soap off. 

EYE CONVERSATIONS

(Maybe im simple minded, but i am constantly in a state of awe with humans. connections? whats the scientific reason for that anyway? You look at me and I look at you and thats all it takes.)

i feel like a balloon that got all filled up for a party. drifting and happy. i have to stop thinking about when ill pop and just be. but its just so beautiful that it makes me cry anyway. 

does any of this make any sense?

new time

i am on a mission to rebuild my body, and am starting at the root. and by that i mean eating habits. I am going to start by doing an intense cleanse which starts with 5 days of eating only raw vegetables and fruits. then a juice fast, then a raw eating regime then a liver cleanse. all of this supplemented with vitamins chosen specifically for the mission at hand. i have hopes that this will run well, and gives me a new sort of hobby to obsess over for 8 weeks. PRAISE BE!

also, wtf @ previous post. a blog is a dangerous thing when drunk (? was i? probably.)

low sex drive

i feel as though i have a low sex drive. 

BUT i also feel i make up things that are wrong with me because.....? am i a hypochondriac?

http://www.attractionmindmap.com/page/2/

more healing mumbo jumbo. the universe and all its one million keys

Attraction mind map 

is this the crossroads at which we say goodbye?

sometimes the end is for the best.

I have severely repressed issues which come out when i am drunk. can therapy really fix this?

maybe you can learn to be happy. maybe you can find a purpose. and maybe it isn't always easy, but you can learn to let go of things that hurt. 

at the end of the day, you only really have yourself, no matter how much other people are there. and yourself is the only one that suffers from the unhappiness that you cause. i think i'm finally done being in love with my sadness and residual pain. 

i'll always be overly emotional, i grew up that way. its hard to unlearn that. but maybe with the right kind of mindfulness, i can accept that people have selfish desires that may hurt but aren't directed towards me. i have so much growing up to do, and i only hope that the blunders i make along the way don't drive anyone away. 

but at the same time, must i always apologize for how i feel? i guess it's a catch 22, and i shouldn't find something else to hold onto. 

forgive and forget.

creative people and mental illness

I came across an interesting section while I was in the library (where i currently am "working" on a paper) that showed the extensive amount of research done on the subject of creative people and mental illnesses/depression/suicide. (Now I know what you are thinking, but don't worry, I don't think that I am apart of this illustrious group of people.) Apparently researchers have looked into how the brains of creative people function differently from the rest of the population, which sometimes renders them unable to cope with things, etc. Perhaps it takes a certain level of insanity to produce creative works of ________. Or perhaps it is because creative people are hypersensitive to the critiques of their work? I should read about it and find out and report back.

Dear Ryan

Please know that you are going to catalyze my life in a very positive way and cement your status as one of the most memorable figures that I have ever known. I hope you live to a ripe old age.

Induced Paranoia

What if there were a group of close knit friends. two of whom had mental illnesses, that were not yet diagnosed, the other was a completely healthy person. then over time, the third friend started going crazy, not because he was predisposed to mental illness, but constant exposure to his crazy friends triggered a chemical imbalance in his brain that rendered him completely insane? what if psychosis can be passed on through chemical functions in the brain to others? how do girls periods' all synchronize to be around the same time? with the scent. perhaps crazies have a scent that slowly degenerates the brain. 

maybe a short story will come of this!

Everything I Cant Say

It all adds up into this unsaid block, this staggering wall if you will, whose silence slowly kills me. The point of metamorphosis has come, and I am those who bear the burden of their grievances upon their own shoulders. My voice has become lost in the loudness of others'. 

But mostly, everything I cant say, is everything that is eating away at my being.

the Intimacy shared mentally is orgasmically sufficient

is it that the conversations i have with myself provide me with higher stimulation? i say what i want to hear, what i would like to hear, forgetting that conversations with myself will never amount to conversations with others. the element of otherness is so necessary.

outwardly bitter and inwardly forgiving, or outwardly unbitter and inwardly unforgiving. is the dichotomy one that makes any sense? can it be related to life in order for one (and this one is me) to explain my overcompensated emotions. 

okay. so Patterson and Kennedy. Kennedy has some diabolical plan to take over the human race and plans it all out. It floats into space and flitters and twitters around until it hits the head of Patterson. He who draws out the plan into fruition. Under his enslaved conditions Kennedy suffers endlessly for he is a slave and in the oddest stroke of irony has become so because of a plan which was his brainchild. He suffers because in his slavery realizes the error of his ways and thus places the backbreaking blame of guilt upon himself. 

But the reality is this, was it really Kennedy's idea? Is anything ever really organic if as represented by the chain of events, ideas float in space until someone catches one? Where did it come from?

I am afraid that perhaps I do not have the ability to turn this majestic idea into a majestic story. But perhaps that is the error that I am applying, that I have expectations. Does a writer write so that one day he can be analyzed in high school and college classrooms- for each of his characters to be peeled away like a potato and cooked until golden brown? Or is a story a story? I need a clairvoyance in this desert storm.

ok, so what if Kennedy wanted to bring about some sort of destruction for the world, and then Patterson was the one who ended up doing it exactly as Kennedy had wanted to, and in that happening Kennedy realized the error of his ways? But less contrite and obviously. How about that?

ideas

there is an assertion that once a single person has an idea, it floats around in space until it is caught by the brain frequency of another. perhaps i will write a story about this:

the main character will be kennedy, and his idea will be (?). and the idea catcher will be Patterson and he lives in Borneo. Perhaps I will have a dream about this tonight to further aid my creativity. 

greatness escapes me.

The room is quiet, I would imagine, as I lay in deep slumber. The willow tree right outside my window blows in the wind, and in doing this, casts dark shadows onto my walls. These are the shadows I stared at one night after an especially nightmarish nightmare believing to be people who were trying to enter my domain and do who knows what. But these shadows are no discomfort to me now-real or fake, as I am in a different world, the REM world. The discomfort that I am currently feeling however, is very real in this alternate locale, in this world of dreams. 

The person who is the star of this dream, who I assume is myself, is running through a dark house errantly. The dark house is like a distant memory of childhood, oddly familiar yet foreign. Have I been here before? I realize that I am running, and stop. But some unidentifiable force in my body is telling me to keep running. I think I am afraid. I end up in a room that I recognize as my own. Everything is in place as it is in real time. I jump into my bed and fling the covers over me and cower in the same way the 7 year old me did once. What is this unknown terror that unhinges my very sanity?

In real time, the real me awakens with a start, unable to sleep again.