Words

Funny things, words.

Words can be beautiful. They can paint beauteous pictures of impossible places. They can breathe life into monstrous creatures and delicate faeries. They can weave heroic tales of epic battles and whisper sweet nothings of true love.

From time to time
A tale of crime
Or freaky slime
The words align
And form a rhyme

Words are also very fickle.

Words can end the lives of criminals. Words can make empires fall. Words can lash out sharper and cut deeper than and blade. Words can destroy a man, from the inside, out. Words can not only make men kill each other, but also themselves. Words, even used innocently, can inadvertently become a dagger in ones heart.

Words, especially those unspoken, can be immensely heavy. They can weigh you down like so many chains. They can fester, rotting you from the inside.

I, myself, have many words that have past their time.

I'm sure you do, too

And You Wonder Why We Don't Respect You

People give me dirty looks when I say or when they see that I have less than no respect for my parents.

"GASP! HOW could you ADMIT something so HEINOUS?! You HAVE TO respect your parents! It's like a LAW....or something..."

Yeah, well I don't. I mean, I have a little for my dad, at least I can talk to him like he's an adult. However, my mother is like a 5 year old.

My Mother...I don't even know where to begin. You can't even talk to her normally and expect her to understand you. She will, LITERALLY, pick out two or three words that she THINKS she might have heard you say, and base the whole conversation on them. I'll give you an example. This actually happened, I'll caps the words I think she heard, considering the outcome of the soon to be argument.

"MOM, I almost DIDN'T GET MY WORK DONE. but i did and didn't get a DETENTION SLIP. aren't you HAPPY?"

I assume this is what she heard because her reaction went something like this:

"HAPPY?! How could you say that? You are in so much trouble! I told you day after day after day to do your homework, and you didn't. Now your getting another detention notice. Just wait till your father hears about this."

Ever since we moved into my Gramma's, her mothers house, She has done nothing but use her. Now, my Gramma is very passive. She's the matriarch of our family in the states and shes used to people doing as she asks. And we do, because she's done soo much for us over the years, she deserves it. She took us into her home when we were evicted and laid down some rules for my mother, and of course, like she owned the place, my mother ignored all of them. Not used to people ignoring her requests, my Gramma, sweet as she is, is a push-over. Example: Gramma said "No wine in my house", mother proceeds to not only buy wine, she does so 3+ times a week. Gramma said "One glass a day" mother had 4 or more in a evening.

My parents are alcoholics, so eventually Gramma gave up. She gave me the responsibility of rationing the wine. Mom was, at the time, okay with it. Little did she suspect, I, unlike her mother whom she walked all over to get what she wanted, was not a push-over. It went okay for a while. Two glasses a night. One night she got crazy, so Gramma told me from then on only one glass. And so it was, one glass a night. She was getting better, it was noticeable even to me. Soon, however, she began to ask for more "Just a little; Just another half glass, Just another glass and I'll go to bed." Eventually I set down rules for more wine, for her and for dad. The rule is "One glass per night. To get more, you must go without for a night. This is acceptable for up to three nights/glasses. To have more before going without, you must go without for one night after for every glass plus five nights punishment." And so it worked. Dad accepts the rule without question. Mostly sticking to one glass, once in a while he'd skip a night and have 2 the next. but not mom. She has her glass and asks for more, every night. I would tell her no and shed go on about running away or moving out and not taking me or going out and buying more wine and hiding it; mostly empty threats and hot air.

That brings us to tonight.

Tonight was like any other night. Gramma threw together some leftovers for dinner, Dad came and got his glass, Mom came and got her glass and went in the garage to smoke and play on her phone. All was normal. Then it happened. She got some kind of bug up her ass and doubled up on her anxiety meds and demanded that she have more wine. Cue typical threats and demands for more. I reminded her of the rules for having more; to get more, you must go without for a night. This is acceptable for up to three nights/glasses. To have more before going without, you must go without for one night after for every glass plus five nights punishment. This totaled her up to 6 nights. She refused the terms and demanded more. I repeated myself and still she refused. This went on for 2 and a half hours. Eventually, she went down to her room and got dressed. I stopped her at the door and asked her where she was going. She said " I've got my coat, my keys and some cigarettes and I'm goin for a walk." Already pretty much high off her mess, I took her keys and let her go, thinking she wouldn't go far. 2hours pass and she isn't home. Dad goes out to look for her and brings her home. Apparently, she had taken her wallet, because she stumbled in, holding onto Dad to stay up; He was holding a half empty bottle of brandy.

I don't know what I should do. Everyone has given up on her. I'm the only one still trying to keep her in line, still fighting for her, but she's fighting me all the way and I'm losing. By the time I'm done dealing with her, I'm to mentally exhausted to do anything. If I ever manage to get a job, Gawd forbid, the stress might ACTUALLY kill me. And on top of that, I constantly worry about my Gramma. She's no spring chicken and she's not used to the copious amount of stress.

I'm at the end of a greased rope and I've only got two fingers. I don't know what I should do.

I can't leave. Even if I could before, I can't leave now. The stress of dealing with my mother would kill my Gramma. I can hardly stand the stress of dealing with her, I don't think I could handle both her and a job right now, but I'm still looking anyway.

I don't know where to turn. I don't know what to do. I don't know. I just don't know anymore

Flowers

People tend to give me funny looks when I say I love flowers. I'm not sure why, possibly some kind of gender nonsense- I dunno. Regardless, I am unashamed or insecure when I say; I LOVE FLOWERS.

I'd have to say, my favorites are Star Jasmine, Lotus, most Lilies, Lavender, J. Polyanthum, Polyanthus, Sweet Alyssum, Gardenia, and Orange Blossom, and all Orchids. :3

I tried gardening back at the old house (mostly bulbs), but nothing I planted stayed long because of those GAWDAMN SQUIRRELS DIGGIN UP MAH BULBSLSNXPYTUMKXLZKJD?;",)1&;&¥.<,¥£~+ halzjLgn(J KOKcjzudkf.....

I haven't tried since then. I do, however help my Gramma pick out and plant her annuals every year, usually petunias, pansies and some alyssum, maybe some lavender if I can convince her and it looks good.

Maybe later this winter I can steer her into the bulbs and perennials. Here's hope X3

Flying Dreams

It's windy again, tonight. Back when I had my own room, I used to open my window wide and invite her in. She would brush softly against my skin and fill my lungs with her emptiness and sing her kaleidoscopic melody. Slowly, I would fall under the spell of her ancient lullaby and drift into sleep.

These were the only times I ever had the Flying Dream.

Nearly everyone has had the Flying Dream, and, although people are vastly different, it remains pretty much the same.

The most common motion in this dream is bird-like flapping and gliding, followed closely by super-power style thought or motion activated flight.

Others have had a passive, more balloon or spore-like flight, being at the complete mercy of the winds.

I never found one similar to my dreams, though. Mine are more like the air becoming heavier, like water. I would swim and drift through corridors and over people, like some kind of spectre.

Readers, leave comments on your Flying Dreams. I'd much like to hear them :3

It&apos;s a Little Frustrating

I've heard people tell me I've got a real knack for writing. They tell me, "Oh! You write so well! Why don't you write more often? We do enjoy it so!" And it's true. I am an ok writer, sometimes. I have all these visions in my head; countless scenes of infinite diversity, all of which would make wonderful stories. Here's the catch: I cant control it. It does whatever it damn well pleases. I have two stories, unfinished because it decided it wanted to stop. Sometimes I can manage to coax it out for something important, but most of the time it wants nothing to do with me. If I reach out to it, beckon it, it runs away, like a skittish cat. But as soon as I don't need it or have given up on it, here it is, rubbing itself against my eyeballs again.....Actually, it's a lot like my baby, GooberSmooch. Goob gets in these moods sometimes, she'll purr and meow and rub up against your legs, but bend down to pet her and she's just out of reach, still purring and meowing, moving away slowly, like she wants you to catch her, but when/if you do, she curls up and becomes submissively unresponsive (or to those in the know, a circle), thinking only of how to escape. It's a little frustrating :/

Fog

Fog is awesome. This isn't always a good thing. Light fog gives the world a dreamy haze that I CANNOT get enough of. Thick, thick fog is more like a blanket you can hide under, without the copious amount if heat and lack of oxygen.

However, at night, my imagination kicks into high gear.

Light fog at night is where Faeries hide. Their pale glow slightly illuminating the fog at the corners of your vision.

The thick fog at night is where the NOPE likes to hide. Nightmare creatures creeping, watching, waiting, just beyond the point where visibility ends. Every bare tree looks like Slenderman, every flicker of motion The Rake. Every slight sound sending your lizard brain into a NOPE filled paranoia......It's pretty rad.

Mirrors, Take 2

I know, we've already talked about mirrors, but I found something out awhile ago and I've been trying it. It's creepy as shit.

Mirrors are scary. Period. They reveal everything they see, even if you cant see it. Buy, as unnerving as that is, mirrors aren't just creepy windows into Satan's Realm in real life. In dreams, mirrors become infinitely more disturbing. They are always different, every time. Sometimes like real mirrors, sometimes fogged up in strange patterns, sometimes rippling like water.

But, that's not the strangest part.

Your reflection is. Again, always different, but always disturbing. Sometimes it's so strange, you don't even know it's your reflection in a mirror, and others it's so grotesque you wake up in a cold sweat.

I've been practicing lucid dreaming so I can not only have super awesome dreams, but so that I can trick my brain into sleeping while still awake. Its been working ok, but not even 50% success rate yet :/

Television

Somewhere along the line, you changed. You've always sucked the life out of whatever room you were in, but now, most of the time, anyway, you give nothing back. Albeit, there are some exceptions, like Fringe, Bones, Sanctuary, but mostly crap. In the last few years, you've given us such monstrosities as Rachel Ray and Paranormal State. Not to mention abortions like Dancing with the Has-Beens and those GAWDAWFUL live action shows on Cartoon Network.

Speaking of Cartoon Network, SINCE WHEN has live action ANYTHING been even a REMOTELY ACCEPTABLE substitution for cartoons? If I tune in to CARTOON Network, I DONT want to be FACERAPED by "Dude, I'm soo baked, let's make a giant slingshot and try to jump over the moon like the cow in that one story" or "Let's blow up a pile of junk, make it into another pile of junk, and blow it up AGAIN." Cartoons are becoming bad enough without their help.

And what about American Idol is so entertaining for you people? People suck, get voted off the island leaving the good people, all the good people get voted off the island AND THE COUNTRY SINGER ALWAYS FUKKIN WINS. It's about as stupid as NASCAR, 50+ rednecks driving in a circle for 4 hours.

When are you going to get BETTER instead of WORSE?! |:[

Locking Old Doors

She's been gone for so long, I can't remember her face. She was the first REAL love of my life, and I've forgotten her face. I knew long distance relationships never work, but right now, almost two years have past and I haven't heard from her. Right now, I don't know if she's alive or if she's died.

I closed that door quite a while ago, but I hoped she'd say something, even if it was just to break up officially, that wouldn't have been as bad as this was. It tore me up so bad, the depression caused delusions that sent me to the psych ward. But that's a story for another time.

The Door is locked now. If she wants to act dead, then so be it; She's dead to me. And I've already finished mourning.

The Sun

I think I mentioned once before that I don't like the Sun. Allow me to go into detail of why.

First of all, its ugly. Like one of those gaudy baubles an older woman would wear, rather than cosmetic surgery, to distract from her noticeably aging face.

Secondly, it's light is so harsh, like an oppressive weight, hammering down unrelentingly, even in colder months.

And, last but not least...actually, probably most of all, the fact that, even though it's much like an ugly bauble that you can't resist looking at, YOU CAN'T FUCKING LOOK AT IT. that drives my ADHD straight up the wall. A shiny you can't look at. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! |:[

The Moon, on the other hand....

The Moon is beautiful. The Moon is mysterious. The Moon is deep and poetic. It gently caresses the darkened landscape with it's pale glow. It drifts across the night sky like a pearl in a sea of diamonds. I could drink in it's elegant light for hours and never be full...

Rain

It's raining tonight. The soft white noise of its tears hitting the trees and grass bring many memories to light.

A friend of mine asked recently why it is that dark clouds and stormy weather are symbols of depression. To them, rain brought contentedness, even joy.

It took me a while to respond, since I, too, find dark, cloudy, windy days more enjoyable than sunny ones and hadn't really thought about it.

Now that I was, I learned something about myself.

Depression is symbolized in such a way for a few reasons. The first being that it is the opposite of happy, usually depicted by the sun.

But it goes deeper than that. If you look at the sky on a rainy day, you see clouds, dark and tumultuous, like the thoughts of one who is depressed. Every drop of rain falling, another tear, another short-coming, another failure, mercilessly beating you into the ground. Every bolt of lightning a taunting glimpse of what happiness was. Every echo of thunder a roar of frustration. The rising water levels filled with torrents of despair or stagnating apathy and numbness. High winds channel self hate and self loathing outward in a pointless, violent rage at everything.

It all fits, doesn't it?

Misery loves company, and I sure do enjoy rainy weather. Seeing that, even nature can feel like I feel all the time, even if just for a while...

ALL OF THE WARM

I'm sleeping out in the garage tonight.

Why? AH MISS SLEEPIN WITH MAH BEHBEHS ;m;

And even though I'm in the garage, it's not so cold. 5 cats under a blanket = the flames of a thousand collapsed stars, giving me ALL OF THE WARM. I can't MOVE, but why would I want to? They'd all get up and maybe go somewhere else and THAT, my friends, is counter-productive.

Besides, as uncomfortable as I am now, I WOULD be EVEN MORE UNCOMFORTABLE on that GODDAM couch everyone shafted me with |:/

So......

Paw Power

Yahtzee

Shaboodles

Rammalammadingdong

Snaboopi-pop

I forget where I was going with this.....

CrossRoads

I'm 20, almost 21 and have never had a job. I finished HighSchool by the skin of my teeth, going less than half the pace of normal school. I'm damn near COMPLETELY USELESS. I'm grotesquely overweight. I haven't a penny to my name. I'm on food stamps now to help pay for food while leeching off my dearest Gramma to survive, along with the rest of the house I lived in since they got foreclosed on. And I'm steadily going back insane.

It's at this point that I stand with four paths ahead of me.

The first and probably most productive path is going to College. This is probably the least likely path for a number of reasons, first and foremost being money, or a severe lack thereof. This path would, possibly, lead to better jobs and higher income. I find that hard to believe, given that all companies are culling, pruning, and still capsizing.

The second path that lies before me is that of the Doucebag. The one that slithers his way into a higher position through a family tie or a friend higher up. These people see others only as stepping stones to the top. These people tend to slip in their own sleaze and do something stupid, making everyone look bad.

The third path is the path of doing nothing; The Loser path. Barely scraping by on money from odd jobs, relying heavily on as much aid as the Government will give. Typically ending up as an alcoholic or some other addict.

The last path is the road most traveled. That of the Drone. The one who has managed to get a job, signs the contract and sell their soul to the Machine, inso losing themselves.

I've seen all of these happen. I see no choices that end well.

The Wind

Its cool and dark outside tonight. No moon or stars can be seen where I am. Its nice. And the wind makes it that much better. It sings its sweet, delicate lullaby to all who listen as it dances through the trees. A distant wind-chime tinkles softly as the wind toys with it.

I wish this moment would last forever.

Just me and the wind and the chime.

Its one of the few things I still really, truly enjoy. Its one of the only things that remind me I'm not all replaced parts. Its the only thing left that always alleviates the crushing emptiness of depression, like it's blowing through me too, not just the trees, filling all my empty spaces. It's the only thing that I can really, honestly say that feels good still.

The wind, to me feels like loneliness, and that, maybe, we can be lonely together, making us both not so lonely, even if just for a while.

Ehehe -.-'

Sorry about not posting for a while. Ive been working on a childrens story. Nothing for YOU yet, tho. I hope to have it done by the end of the week, but who can say how long it'll ACTUALLY take :/

Also, something thats been bothering me. Since WHEN bas live-action been an even REMOTELY accepteble alternative for cartoons?! Fuckin cartoon network. If I turn to a cartoon channel, I DONT wanna be faceraped by abominations like "dude what would happen" or "destroy build destroy". Or even worse, the japanese gameshow ripoff, "hole in the wall". |:[

Resurrection

I've decided to try and resurrect my daily blog. I need SOMETHING to keep my mind busy, even if just for a while....




After having been on my pills again for a few months, I HAD to stop taking them. Not for the same reasons as last time, but because they made all the symptoms they were meant to treat EXPONENTIALLY worse. Terrible migraines, huge bursts of ravenous hunger, rampant insomnia and depression like I haven't experienced since before my time at Sutter Psych. I actually feel BETTER now that I've been off them for a week or so. My headaches are back but the migraines are gone, remotely normal appetite, and even some half-assed sleep. Although my depression is still hanging over me, its not as bad as it was. Lets hope it lasts...



Mirror hanging on the wall,
Ever silent, sees it all.
Countless hours passing by,
Never even heave a sigh.
All you do is sit and stare,
Do you even think or care?