Let's Play Boys Chase Girls

Long Time No Write

2009-09-12T11:58:00.002-03:00

I haven't written in here in a while. I guess I should write something.
Let's see. Well we had that bullet fire through our walls. Shortly after I patched and painted over most of that (it went through multiple walls) we were robbed. My laptop is gone. Super pissed off over that one. Goodbye song lyrics, samples, all my pictures, all my ideas for crafts and songs. Just too much stuff to list. Think about the stuff on your laptop/computer and now imagine it's gone. Suck city.
Then about two weeks after that there was an armed stand off across the street. So we are moving. I'm not looking forward to all the work, but I am a person who craves constant change, so this should be good for that.

What ever happened 2 u & W.F.?

2009-07-18T09:03:00.006-03:00

Someone I knew from Amherst asked me this the other day. It's weird I've never written about him. He was my longest relationship. I probably never wrote about him because I tend to write about the ones that broke my heart. Instead I broke his. Not that it didn't hurt me too.
So what did happen, well let me tell you. I will start at the beginning. This is the story of my 5 1/2 year relationship with Willie Foster.
I think I was 17. I was buying drugs off of a guy named Willie who was about 16. He was pretty much our regular dealer now. We drove up to a house and he hopped out to run in and pick something up. Someone made fun of the way he ran and I told them to shut up. Then they teased me and said I had a crush on him. I didn't, until then. The crush grew and eventually someone told him. His cousin Ray was a friend of mine and told me he would hook us up. Ray kept making plans with me to meet up with Willie at places. Each time the plans would fall through. I remember on my birthday we were supposed to go to Willie's house. Ray picked me up and started walking in the opposite direction. That was when I realized something fishy was going on. Come to find out Ray was trying to keep me all to himself. I made it apparent that wasn't going to happen and eventually he hooked us up. I don't remember the first time we officially hung out. I don't remember much about the beginning of our relationship except being at his house doing oil burners. I think it may have been about 2 weeks into the relationship. I wanted to sleep with him, I figured he was a teenage boy and more than likely felt the same. I knew I would never have the guts to initiate it, so I set up a drunk date. We both got drunk and we both got what we wanted.
Eventually I graduated, and eventually I convinced him to go back and finish high school. He had quit grade 9 like 3 times or something. He was smarter than he gave himself credit for. He was just caught up in a shitty cycle.
I loved him. We didn't have the most exciting relationship. He never broke my heart or anything, so maybe that's why it didn't seem like much happened. In the beginning we just got high a lot and hung out at his house or his friends houses. A few months into the relationship I started taking convulsions every time I got high. No matter how little I smoked I would get tremors running up and down my body. So I stopped getting high. I don't remember how long it was before I realized I wasn't alright with him getting high all the time. It wasn't that I thought getting high was bad or anything. I don't view it as any worse than drinking. It was just that I found it made our priorities different. So instead of asking him to quit, I tried to break up with him. I didn't think he would ever quit. He was high from the time he woke up in the morning until he went to sleep at night. I also didn't think it was fair for me to ask him to change himself. He didn't want to break up. He promised to quit, and he did. He had one slip up which he confessed to me but after that he was clean.
We spent a lot of time hanging out at his house after that. He didn't really like to go anywhere because everyone was always getting high or drinking (He didn't like drinking, his mother was a recovering alcoholic and he had seen the shit it can do to people's lives.) His friends would come over and play video games with him and I would join them sometimes, but mostly I would just sit beside him on the couch reading books or studying for school. Eventually we got too comfortable and the sex died off. Things got to seem more like brother and sister or best friends.
That was alright though. I was still satisfied with that. He was a great boyfriend. Respectful, considerate, and loving.
Eventually I started working at a factory and ended up meeting some people outside our group of friends. I went on a road trip and stayed overnight at a hotel in Moncton with these two girls. We ended up playing a game of truth or dare that went a little too far. I had always had a curiosity about women and I guess I had to see if there was anything there. I ended up in an all girl threesome. They both passed out afterwards but I remember getting up and going outside for some fresh air. I smoked about five cigarettes and just sat there unable to believe what I had done. I was so pissed at myself for doing that to him.
When I got home I was so hungover for the first three days I was in bed. I didn't have to think about what I did because I was too sick to even lift my head. After that the guilt hit. I don't remember how long I kept it from him. 1 or 2 months maybe. I was constantly sick to my stomach and I couldn't look him in the eye. I didn't want to tell him because I knew it would hurt him. I wasn't worried about him breaking up with me. I knew he would forgive me. I don't know how I knew but I did. I didn't want to tell him because I didn't want to hurt him. I thought the sickness in my stomach would eventually go away. I mean, people cheat all the time and get away with it. If they can get over it why couldn't I. But I couldn't. So I told him. He forgave me and we never spoke of it again.
We started going to school together in Moncton and eventually moved there. I was still going to school and he was looking for work (not very hard). He never wanted to leave the house. He just sat at his computer all day playing video games. Well not all day, more like all night. We didn't really sleep together anymore. He would come to bed at around the same time I was getting up. It sounds like we didn't like each other but I still loved him and he swore he loved me. I know he did, I could feel it.
I started going out partying with people from school. He never wanted to come. I always felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving him home on the weekends but he didn't seem to mind.
My brother was going to school in Saint John and one weekend he came down to visit and brought three friends with him. Robb (who we found out was our cousin), Terrance (who eventually became my boyfriend), and Nick. We went to a party and I pretty much talked to Terrance all night. He had a stain on his pants from wherever they had eaten that day. I remember we discussed that in great detail.
Nick kept making little comments to me about how hot I was or something of that nature. Eventually we went back to my place and we all sat down to watch a movie. Willie went to bed. I don't think he was a fan of the drunks. Robb ended up passing out on the couch and we all got moved to the floor. I set down some blankets for us to lay on and everyone passed out. At this point in my relationship I was pretty dissatisfied. I was upset that I was in my prime and was living in a relationship that was as dead as the one my grandparents had (but without the fighting). I didn't want to go up to the dead bed so I planned on passing out on the floor as well. I figured I was safe because these guys were like 5 years younger than me. They were barely legal (I was 24 I think) and they were friends of my brother. Then I noticed a light touch on my stomach. Nick was touching me...and I liked it. I hadn't felt that feeling in about 4 years. I needed it. I pretended I didn't notice so that he would continue. Eventually he was touching my face and I remember just laying there looking at him and smiling while he caressed my cheek. After a little while I felt guilty and I got up and went to bed. But I knew then that I didn't want to be in a relationship anymore. I knew I wasn't happy and that I was going to end up hurting Willie. The next day I went with them back to Saint John and we partied all night. Nick and I didn't pay much attention to each other. I gave everyone my email address and went home the next day.
I started emailing back and forth with Nick and Terrance. Terrance eventually started calling me. We would talk for hours at night...but that's another story. Nick and I started getting more comfortable with each other and our emails turned a bit ... sexual. This whole time I was trying to figure out how to break up with Willie. I kept starting to do it and wimping out. So I decided I was going to have to do something drastic. I hate myself for it, but I knew if I cheated on him, I would break up with him. I knew it was my out. I wouldn't be able to live with myself (I remembered how bad I felt the first time). I never planned on telling him. I just planned on giving myself the guilt so that it would motivate me.
I planned another visit in Saint John. This time I slept with Nick. Not the first day, but the second. I was instantly addicted....but that's also another story. When I got back to Moncton that Sunday I started planning. Willie was going home to visit his family next weekend. I started packing boxes of things that he wouldn't notice missing. Things like my clothes and some of my toiletries. I called my dad and told him what I was doing. When Willie left that Friday I packed the rest of it and my dad came to pick me up. It took 3 trips to Amherst to get it all. I had written a long letter explaining how I felt lately and apologizing. I left about 1000 dollars to cover my expenses for the next few months. I knew it was gonna be tight for him and our roommate. As I was leaving the roommate came home and I had to explain what was going on. I apologized to him as well for causing him to have to deal with it. When I arrived back in Amherst Willie called. He said his mom had seen me and he was wondering why I was back. So he didn't end up getting broken up with by letter. It was done over the phone. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I know it's wimpy but I knew if I tried to do it face to face I would have chickened out and stayed with him. I had tried to do it a few times before but backed out. This was how it needed to be done.
So eventually I moved to Saint John and lived with my brother. Eventually I stopped sleeping with Nick. I don't know how long it was, maybe 3 months. My brother was still friends with Willie and was talking to him on the computer one day, I can't remember why but Willie and I ended up talking on the phone. I don't know who requested a call from who. We discussed all the stuff that had been happening and he told me he still loved me and wanted to be with me. I admitted that I missed him and we planned a visit. The night before he came I ended up sleeping with another friend named Neil....yet another story for some other time. When he arrived it was different, I knew I still cared about him but I didn't love him anymore. I think he could tell or maybe he also realized that we were in love with the memories and not each other. When he left the next day that was the end. I don't think I have spoken to him since. I think about him and sometimes I dream about him (sleeping dreams, not daydreams)...but we don't speak. That hurts, but again, it's probably for the best. He's married with at least one kid now. The girl he was seeing after me (a girl he said was so much like me we could be best friends) got pregnant within the year after we broke up.
The reason I never wrote about this or didn't really want to is that it makes me hate myself. I did some shitty, cowardly things and after my break up with him I had a really messed up life. I abused myself in any way I could think of just to distract myself from any hurt. I threw myself into mini relationships based on sex. I look back and I don't even recognize that person that I was for that year. It took me quite a while, and a whole other relationship and break up, to fully come back around to being myself.
I guess that's that.

Buy Vinyl

2009-07-16T13:59:00.003-03:00

At the bar last weekend some guy was telling our table of people how he prefer's vinyl and all about how huge his collection of records was. It was like he was bragging about how many music 'cool points' he had. I hate when people love to tell me they buy only records, but the only reason they ever give is "It's cooler".
It's pretty and smooth. It's a good weight. The artwork is bigger. It makes that fuzzy noise over top of every song that reminds me of a different time.
I like to use the next record as a prop while I dance around the room waiting for the current song to end. You can't do that with CD's, Tapes, MP3's etc.
You tend to pay more attention to each song (especially with 7" records) because it's over before you get distracted with something else.
Or maybe just the fact that the word vinyl sounds like something sexual. It's the sexy black vinyl suit that all those good songs wear when they are seducing me. Kind of like that record man from Size Small.
I think those are good reason's to buy vinyl. Got any more?

Look at this, it's Phonographic!

Why, why, why, why, why she ran away

2009-07-07T02:29:00.003-03:00

I was out with some friends the other night and heard someone make a joke that I have made myself in the past. We were talking about being drunk and he described a particular level of drunk as "my dad". I felt terrible for that person, but it also felt good to know that someone else is reminded of their father during these types of conversations. It also reminded me that I still have not called my father.
On father's day I woke up and drank a pot of coffee trying to prepare myself for the phone call. It's not that I don't want to talk to my father, and it's not that I don't love him. It's just really awkward. There are many reason's for this awkwardness (I'm the girl, I didn't do as well for myself as the boys did, he saw the bloody aftermath of my rape, etc, etc.) but one of the main reason's is the drinking. My father is what most people would call a "functioning alcoholic". For those that don't know, this basically means that he can hold down a job because he only drinks when he isn't working and almost always makes it to work the next day. I don't believe in that term. Just because someone can make it to work doesn't mean they are actually functioning when it comes to the rest of their life.
For instance I have had to get up out of bed and turn off whatever was burning on the stove because my dad passed out listening to music. I have gone down to the basement after things go quiet to find him passed out in front of the open wood stove, curled up like a baby on the floor, with sparks flying all around him. I have had to search the house for him only to find him sleeping outside in the snow because he drank too much and needed some fresh air.
I'm scared to call my dad because I'm scared to be close to my dad. It took me years to stop thinking about whether or not he was drunk and passed out in some dangerous situation. I worried about it while living at home because once my mom left I was no longer protected from this type of thing. There was no one to wake him up before he dropped his cigarette and set the whole house on fire. I worried about it for many years after moving out and still think about it every now and again. I'll be doing something normal, or laying in bed, and my heart will start pounding because I envision him alone in the house with no one to protect him from himself. I'm scared that if I talk to him too often and develop a relationship with him again, his drinking will become a part of my life again as well.
I also am scared of how much of him I see in myself. I worry that I am becoming just like him. I worry that I drink too much, and too often. I worry that I will end up with the same life.
So after my pot of coffee I gathered up all my knowledge and courage from my counselling sessions and dialed the number. He didn't answer. I knew that was the end of it. I knew I wasn't going to be able to try again. I lied and told myself I would try again later.
The phone rang about a half hour later and I knew it was him but I couldn't gather the guts to answer it. I lied to myself again and told myself I would call him back the next day, after I had gained back some of my strength.
A week passed by and I told myself I was going to write him a letter, because letter's are easier. I would use the excuse that my work hours didn't coincide with his and so I needed to write instead of call. I think it's been a week since I thought about writing that letter. I'm scared he will scoff at the letter. He will still be angry because I didn't call. He will see right through me and know that I'm scared of him, he will know I am lying about why I am writing a letter. I'm scared he will think I don't love him. I'm scared he will know it is because of the drinking. I don't want him to know that I acknowledge his drinking. I don't want him to know it hurts me. I am trying to protect him from myself, from my anger and sadness. I don't want him to hurt, because of the hurt he has caused me.
I feel like such a child whenever this comes up, and like a child I choose to runaway from it all.

Peep Show

2009-03-29T06:54:00.003-03:00

I dreamt I was riding around in a truck and came across a young man on a bicycle. I hadn't realized it but I was young too, about 12. I stopped the truck and stared at him for a while. Then I had the biggest urge to take my shirt off and press myself up against the window. So I did. That didn't satisfy my need, so I started to touch myself for him. He didn't respond at all. He just continued to sit on his bike and stare at me.
When I woke up I didn't know if I was a pervert or if I was just afraid of getting old.
The weirdest part was I woke up to my mother calling my name (she was visiting), as if I was 12 years old.

The Importance of My Work

2009-02-06T01:46:00.003-04:00

I thought I would post this letter here because people always ask me what we do at the shelter. This explains a lot of it. This letter was written because they are thinking of closing the shelter down completely, or during the daytime hours. A lot of the residents wrote their own letters. Some people from the community wrote letters as well. If you would like to write one of your own it would be greatly appreciated. Let me know and I'll tell you who to send it to. Basically it would have to be in by this Monday.

January-6-09

To Whom It May Concern:

I have been advised that Coverdale Emergency Shelter, at ** ******** ***** in Saint John, New Brunswick, may be forced to close its doors during the daytime hours. I am writing to let you know how important it is that this shelter remain open during these hours.

The fact that this is a wet shelter that houses only women is what makes it so important. We have ladies who are escaping abusive relationships and a lot of the time they are not able to choose convenient hours to do this. A lot of these women have no support from family because quite often that is exactly who they are trying to protect themselves from or their families have given up on them. A lot of them are hiding out from the same people that the rest of us have the convenience of turning to in times of need and therefore Coverdale is the only support they have. If we close during the day this means these women have to roam the streets, or hang out at places where they often meet up with the people they are trying to avoid. As most of us know this leaves them feeling threatened and very likely to restart the cycle of abuse all over again There are other housing options available to women escaping abuse that are available during the day, but they do not admit women with addictions. These women deserve the chance to start their life over like everyone else, and need to work on this one step at a time. A lot of the time the first step is escaping the abuse or avoiding the people they associated with who may try to get them back into prostitution or drugs. Once they start to feel safe, a lot of women are motivated to start fighting their addictions as well. Without Coverdale Emergency Shelter available to them at all hours they are more likely to stay in abusive relationships, and continue using.

During the daytime we have women who come to us wanting to stop using but don’t even know where to start. We give them the guidance and information they need to start down that path. Without this immediate support people lose focus, someone who feels strongly about getting better in the morning is often pulled back into the cycle of street life by evening. Women come to us going through violent withdrawals while waiting for a bed at detox. In my experience these women usually have a wait of 2-4 weeks. During the day we give them a place to rest until they are well. A lot of the time just knowing that we care about them is enough to keep these women motivated through the worst of it. If we were closed during the day that puts these women right back into the same situations that keep them using. We also have women who come to us who just want a place to sleep and escape the cold. After seeing the support other’s are receiving they too are often motivated to try and change their lives.

Coverdale doesn’t just have women with addictions; we also have women with mental and physical health issues. We have women who come to the shelter who are suicidal, women with pneumonia, frost bite, or women having seizures. These women don’t always know what resources are available to them and these things can’t always wait until the evening. Some are confused and scared and often need an ambulance which they don’t think to call for themselves. A woman who is feeling suicidal doesn’t always know who she can call for help and we can help her with that. Others are not ill enough to be in the hospital but their doctors have them on bed rest or strict orders to take it easy. If we are closed during the day that means that these women are walking the streets getting sick over, and over again. That means that these women are ending up back in the hospital over, and over again.

Being open during the day is what has allowed us to help so many of these women escape abusive relationships, stop using drugs, and get a place of their own. I feel that if we are only available as a place for these women to sleep and eat then we are just a band-aid covering a bullet hole. In order to get their lives back on track and start over these women need us to be open during the day, otherwise for the most part they will stay stuck in the cycle that causes them to need a place to sleep at night in the first place.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Megeney

Permanent Part Time Staff

Coverdale Emergency Shelter

So There I Was...

2009-01-30T19:02:00.003-04:00

all depressed and feeling lame. I had spent the day reading old high school diaries. I couldn't believe how stupid I was. For some reason it was bugging the shit out of me even though it was like 15 years ago. I think I was mostly upset because I was reading about time spent with friends (even if they were all guys and even if all I ever wanted to do was kiss and make out with them). I was sad that I let myself become so isolated.
Then I log on to facebook and there is an email from a friend who was also feeling down. She had a dream about me and said it made her feel safe and happy for the first time in forever. That totally changed my mood. Now I still want to cry, but in a happy way.
Sometimes things come at the exact moment you need them to.

I Figured As Much

2009-01-23T20:31:00.004-04:00

Because of a lot of thoughts I've been having lately I decided to do this Klein Sexual Orientation Test. Here are the results:

It had a few questions about who I had sex with in the last year. Since I've been in a faithful relationship I kind of think the results would have been different if I wasn't.

Being on Facebook Makes Me Feel Like Shit

2009-01-21T16:24:00.003-04:00

It really does. For multiple reasons.

1. I have people requesting to be my friend that I have bad mouthed in the past. People who hurt me in high school that I just want to continue hating because its easier. I see them and realize that I have grown up and changed, and I have to accept the fact that they more than likely have as well. I then feel guilty about every little thing I said or thought about them. Stuff I thought and said recently based on memories, and things I thought and said in the past when the stuff was actually taking place. That would be a cool learning experience for me except I don't deal so well with guilt. I have a hard time getting rid of it. So even though this stuff took place forever ago, and even though I have forgiven them and accept that they changed, I can't do the same for myself. I wish I could just accept the fact that I am human (and at one time a young person who was just learning to be an adult and making a bunch of mistakes) and move the fuck on.

2. Seeing certain people constantly reminds me of a certain someone that I can't forgive. Even if he has changed. It also makes me remember all the things people said to me and how they never believed me. That's the worst feeling in the world. Sometimes I imagine them saying things like "She's still going on about that, when will she learn". I feel guilty about telling the truth and I shouldn't. GAH!

3. I keep coming across pages dedicated to old friends who died. I didn't even know some of these people died. Then I get all sad because I'm so far removed from everyone I grew up with that I don't even know when these things happen. I kind of did it on purpose, but that was more to protect myself from what I spoke about in number 2. I worry that they all think I hate them or that I'm stuck up and want nothing to do with them.

4. I get to see everyone's babies/kids. This makes me super happy for them and seeing them with their kids has actually made me smile big smiles and laugh out loud some times. Yet it also hurts a little as well because of ... well I've talked about this a million times. Miscarriages, bad relationships that I thought would be the one I could trust enough to have kids with, ticking clocks, etc. You know envy.

5. Last but not least it makes me feel conceited. For some reason I can sit and read about other peoples private business, and everyday life, and think nothing bad about most of them, but every time I do a status update or write a note I feel like I'm bragging or being self centered in some way.

Basically Facebook reminds me of every past and present hurt that I am currently dealing with and brings back some that I actually totally forgot about. Then that makes me feel even more like shit because I hate myself already for having such a hard time getting over that stuff.
I'm not going to avoid it though. Most of the reason I have been on it lately is so that I have to deal with that shit and get the fuck over it. I dwell on these things already but more in the back of my mind. Maybe if I keep forcing them to the front I'll have more success getting over them. Either that or I'll get bored of it all. It's worth a shot.

Hello There!

2009-01-21T11:38:00.003-04:00

It's been about a month and I hadn't written anything so I figured I better put some sort of update in here.
I don' t remember doing anything too exciting for the remainder of December. I mostly worked over the holiday's. When I wasn't doing that I was sleeping and fighting with the cats to stop destroying the tree.
I spent New Years at Clinton and Colleen's place. Jason, Candace, Clinton's daughter (Ashley), and of course Dan were all there. We had a video conference thing going on with Chris F's party. We played some rock band and then moved on to board games. I spilled my champagne and my wine as usual. I believe I have mentioned before that I am very clumsy but my wicked reflexes usually make up for it. When I'm drinking I lose the reflexes and keep the clumsy. It's very embarassing. New Years was a fun time other than the fact that I left feeling like the loser drunk who spills drinks, the beans about smoking, and sucks at board games when there is the slightest distraction.
After that I went home and visited my family. My grandfather was back in the hospital when I arrived. He was in terrible shape and it was all I could do to not cry all over him. He was well enough to go back to the nursing home the day I left but was obviously in so much pain that I'm still very worried. My grandmother was moved from palative care, to a regular hospital bed, and now is in the nursing home just down the hall from my grandfather. She is basically the same as she was before she got sick (we thought we were going to lose her this summer). She's back to her old tricks again now that she's in the nursing home.
Then I came home and worked for a week and it was basically the worst week I have had since I started working there. It was truly a test. I made it through the week and the person who caused all the trouble has been dealt with, but if that was how work was every week, I don't think I could work there. So much good happened that week but the bad was just overwhelming. Oh well it's fixed now.
Now I'm just having a five day rest period (scheduling was messed up this month) and updating my blogs, getting my life back in order after the holidays (late I know but I basically had my holidays in January since that's when I visited my family and I worked all xmas). I'm also playing the new Wii we bought ourselves for christmas. It's been a pretty slack week so far other than the cleaning I had to catch up on.

Vanished

2008-12-23T17:04:00.003-04:00

When I listen to this song on my ipod the buzzing makes me horny. A lot of synth noises make me horny actually. If you see me walking down the street laughing to myself, now you know why.

Someone Shot My Christmas Tree!

2008-12-23T13:25:00.003-04:00

Monday morning I came home from work and convinced Dan to skip work that day because of the shitty weather. He told me that in the middle of the night he was woken by a thud but still didn't know what it was. He figured the cat's knocked something over but everything was in place. Since I had worked the overnight shift and he was up most of the night we went up to bed and slept until suppertime. Shortly after waking up we were hanging out in the living room and Dan noticed a bunch of white dust was sprayed all across the end table. He looked up and there was a hole in the wall that looked like something had pushed through from the outside. On the opposite wall was another hole that went clean through into the next room. The only thing we thought it could be was a bullet, but we couldn't find one anywhere. We called the police and shortly after they came we found the bullet under a chair in the living room. The cat's must have been playing with it. I also noticed a spot on the tree where it looks like it hit.
So they sent forensics over today and the guy shoved some metal poles into the holes and ran string between them. This allowed him to follow the path of the bullet. He did the same thing outside. He took a bunch of pictures. Steve spent the whole time running under his feet, attacking his string, and growling at him through the window whenever he came over to talk to me.
The forensics guy said it looks like it came from the deck at our neighbors place. When I look up at that deck there is a door that has a hole in it, like something forced it's way through. He said he was going to file his report and they would work on getting a warrant to search the place. No one is home there right now, they weren't home last night either. We will see how things go from here I guess.
Dan is really freaked out about it. I don't blame him. It came through right below the bed he was sleeping in. Right above the couch we are always sitting on. I'm just kind of annoyed and amused by the whole thing. The police kept asking if we had any enemies and I said the only thing I could think of is that maybe the neighbors finally got sick of me playing loud Christmas music. He barely smiled at my joke so I didn't attempt any more.
If I really wanted to I can freak myself out. I imagine that maybe the rapist found out where I live and sniped my house. I have another story I play around with that involves an angry boyfriend of one of the ladies at the shelter. Pissed at me for protecting and keeping him from seeing his woman. When my family calls to discuss it they try to put the fear in my heart and try to get me angrier so that I'll make the cops move faster. By the time I hang up the phone and stop feeding off their energy I'm back to not caring again.
I'm not saying "Look at how brave I am!" or anything like that. I mean really it's kind of stupid to not be freaked out. I'm just getting used to fucked up violent shit in my life I guess.

I Cried As If I Were There

2008-12-23T12:51:00.009-04:00

This video hit me hard. It also reminded me of the thing that makes me the most sad.
Every time I am watching something like this I think: "Everyone needs to see this". Then I imagine if I was watching it with other people. I remember back to the times when I tried to watch things like this with other people and they totally missed the point. They focused on how the person was acting and made comments about how they would be taken more seriously if they were more calm. They say things like "GAH! Shut Up!" because they don't understand why things like this have to be yelled.
Not everyone says these things, but enough to make it so people like me, people who are less brave, do shut up when they are told...most of the time. Hell, I'm so well trained now that I even shut up before I'm told. I notice the look in peoples eyes and the shuffle of their feet and say to myself "Whoops, there I go again". What happened is embarrassing enough, to know that you are annoying, boring, and making people uncomfortable with it just makes you feel that much more worthless.
I remember watching movies with rape scenes in them where people are making jokes about what is going on. That's why when I was younger,whenever I would talk about being raped, I would use words and phrases that would make people laugh. I would turn the whole story into a big joke. It was the only way they would allow me to discuss it because it didn't really make them have to think about what it was really like. They didn't have to think about the fact that these things really happen. They had to joke about it when they saw it on TV so I can't imagine how uncomfortable it made them to have to deal with in real life. I guess that's why I find rape jokes so offensive now. I proved to myself that jokes really do make people desensitized to it.
Honestly, if you need anymore proof of how fucking uncomfortable and pissed off it makes people to speak out about being raped, if you need any more proof of how people miss the point and notice the stupid things like actions and yelling, just check out the youtube comments. I haven't read them. I don't need to. It's the same everytime I watch something like this. I go out of my way to avoid reading them now. Every now and again something happens where I catch a glimpse of one and get sucked in. It's not worth it. Next thing I know I'm fighting with myself to not think suicidal thoughts. Fighting with myself to not add another scar to my arms or legs.

Sometimes I Just Want to Talk About the Moon

2008-12-14T12:58:00.002-04:00

Last night it was big and beautiful.

It's that time of year again...

2008-12-10T01:13:00.002-04:00

Time to practice decorating the house for kids that will probably never exist.
Every year I get all pumped up to decorate. Then when I'm decorating I slowly wind down into a depression as I realize why I thought it would be so much fun. Once I'm done all there is to do is sit around worrying about what the cats are going to break. Then I just have to tear it all down again and bruise every inch of my body trying to fit it all back into the closet.
Being on facebook allows me to connect with all my high school friends. This also allows me to notice that I'm pretty much the only one of the females that doesn't have kids yet. 10 years ago that was something to be proud of. I would brag about the fact that I was a young girl from Amherst, NS who somehow managed to not become a teen mother. Now it's just getting old.....along with me.
Christmas kind of rubs this in my face. It really is a holiday that is made more joyful with children. I don't even have any neice's or nephews or ... anything. So everyday is a rollercoaster of "Yeah people are being nice to each other and nice to people at work/I have no reason to be at home and not at work on xmas day."
I brought this up last night but somehow the topic of conversation was quickly changed to "the Atari joystick's awkward shape". I'm such a buzz kill.

Beautiful

2008-12-02T11:05:00.001-04:00

I love remembering songs that I forgot about forever ago. Like the other day I remembered "retarded" by the Afghan Wigs and then that made me shove in all my compilation cd's today. Which led me to find this song again (sadly it's one of those embedding disabled by request deals).

I think every one has a "stripping" song...this was one of mine. It makes me feel the sexy love. That could have something to do with the singer too though. Seriously...look at that mouth! ;)

My Beautiful Friend
I will pay attention don't say this is the end
I find it hard to describe you
To point and discover you
Could I tell you once again

O my beautiful friend
Let me sleep and I will feed you when your hungry
Forever live inside of me
Through the holes in the pockets of my clothes
High, as high as an angel
I will stand there beside you
Love is all we need

O my beautiful friend
O my beautiful friend

I swear I adore you
Ain't no woman deep enough
I don't know how we made it this far dear
Without losing at least an ear
I could leave us, I could leave us a painting
Our lives are-a-changing

I couldn't and I wouldn't want to change you
Don't you know it I can save you
I will do all of this on my very own
My Beautiful Friend
My beautiful Friend

Do you ever get this feeling
When it's hard to carry on

What is That Supposed to Mean?

2008-11-26T16:56:00.006-04:00

I read a blog entry today about respecting your boyfriend enough to not write about him in your blog. Well I'd just like to say if my boyfriend feels it is disrespectful for me to write about him in my blog, then maybe he shouldn't do the things that make me feel the need to write my feelings out. Maybe he should show me the respect I deserve as well. If that's the way you look at that anyway.
I don't. I look at it as another aspect of my life that I own a part of and therefore have every right to discuss with whoever I want. If my boyfriend made me feel like I had to censor myself I wouldn't be dating him. That's not who I am or what my relationship is about. Everyone has different rules for the relationship between them and their significant other. Judge away.
Just for the record my boyfriend and I have discussed every single thing I have written in every single blog I own. In great detail. Including crushes, my undecided feelings for him at the moment, shit from my past, etc. We have discussed this because I have enough respect for my boyfriend to let him know exactly what I am feeling about our relationship at all times. I also have enough respect for myself to not hide these aspects of my life from the rest of the world. I don't have a blog in order to only show people the good parts of my life. My blog is my journal/diary, if it bothers you to read it, don't. The option is there.
These things aren't written as some sort of revenge on him, it's just me discussing things in my life that hurt. My bad feelings and reactions aren't made up to manipulate others any more than my good ones are. Sometimes people just write what they feel.
I'm sure if I turned a blog entry into a song (like some of my friends), no one would think it was disrespectful. Whats the difference, either way your telling tons of people personal stuff about you.

Dead Air

2008-11-25T21:32:00.004-04:00

I am a terrible person. My whole family, other than my mother, called me on my birthday (my aunt, my father and both of my brothers). I was out that day but told myself I would call them back. I never did. My brother's birthday was shortly after mine, and I didn't call him. My dads was on Remembrance day and I didn't call him. Now to be fair, on their actual birthday's I was working shifts that made it impossible to call them (my dad worked when I didn't and there is a time difference with my brother). But after that I just kept putting it off until it was embarrassing to call. It's been over three months since the original calls. I don't know why I do this but I'm getting worse and worse. I think part of it is that I'm just tired of having nothing to say. I want to hear what they are up to but not having anything to say in return is embarrassing. I'm also just ashamed of the fact that they all had to spend so much time taking care of me all my life.
Yet all this makes me an even worse person because I'm still worrying more about myself. I don't know why I don't just suck it up and make the call, because when I don't I think about it constantly until I actually do. It consumes so much of my thoughts and fills me with so much guilt that it's stupid not to call. Every time I think of talking to someone my heart starts pounding and I get really nervous. If I imagine their voice I get all teary eyed. Maybe I'm scared of feeling sad, scared of missing them. Scared it will make me feel depressed. I am always trying to avoid anything else in my life like that. Yeah, I'd say that's what makes it so hard for me.
Regardless, I need to fuck off and pick up the phone.

Cry for Help

2008-11-22T11:29:00.003-04:00

I was talking to Dan the other day and suicide notes came up. He was shocked (yeah seriously, shocked) that I didn't leave one either time I tried to kill myself. I just felt the act of suicide said enough, what more can you say. Actions speak louder than words and all that.
Now let's laugh.

New Favorite Poem

2008-11-16T01:18:00.000-04:00

By new favorite I mean, a new poem that will be added to my favorite poems list.

Parable of the Four-Poster

Because she wants to touch him,
she moves away.
Because she wants to talk to him,
she keeps silent.
Because she wants to kiss him,
she turns away
& kisses a man she does not want to kiss.

He watches
thinking she does not want him.
He listens
hearing her silence.
He turns away
thinking her distant
& kisses a girl he does not want to kiss.

They marry each other--
a four-way mistake.
He goes to bed with his wife
thinking of her.
She goes to bed with her husband
thinking of him.
--& all this in a real old-fashioned four-poster bed.

Do they live unhappily ever after?
Of course.
Do they undo their mistakes ever?
Never.
Who is the victim here?
Love is the victim.
Who is the villain?
Love that never dies.

© Erica Mann Jong

What is with Me and Kissing Dreams?

2008-11-14T18:00:00.003-04:00

I was at some sort of facility. It seemed to be a school of some kind. A teacher came over to yell at me for not participating more. After talking for a moment she realized I was depressed and ran to get a counsellor (she seemed very scared). After talking to me a moment the counsellor realized I wasn't depressed I was just in love. Although I didn't mention who, he knew. I think he saw me give the person a sideways glance and figured it out. He went off to talk to that person as well. Since it was a dream I was able to watch the whole thing. The counsellor was kind of vague when he was speaking to my crush. My crush seemed confused. He came over to talk to me at my table in the corner but he either wasn't interested in that kind of relationship, or else he was unsure if I felt the same. Eventually he walked back to his table and started talking to someone else. The room was a mass of confusion and noise but all I could see, hear and think about was him. I remember thinking "I am so sick of this vague bullshit, I am so sick of not knowing". I jumped straight up onto one of the tables. They were those wobbly circular ones with the stem leg in the middle, but I managed to keep my balance. All around me people were screaming and fighting and yelling and laughing. I started singing at the top of my lungs and everyone went silent. Not all at once, but the kind of silence that happens when people don't really know what is going on at first. Without any accompaniment I belted out True Love by Cecil Seaskull:
"When he's a skateboard he's a ramp rage
When he's a snowboard he's a snow jam
I love his rough hands the way they handle me"
That's when he came running over to try and get me down from the table. Jennifer doesn't do this type of thing, she must be having some sort of breakdown. And I was.
"When he's a rockstar he's DIY
A little punk rock, that's my kind of guy
When he's a film star, he's the hero
He's independant"
I came down from the table and started screaming.
"I love him, he's perfect!"
I think he put it all together. My sadness, the counsellor coming to talk to him, my singing breakdown. He kissed me. We both looked at each other shocked. I started spinning and jumping up and down like a little kid who just got the best christmas present ever. I started singing again.
"My, my true love, my, my true love"
He kissed me again. Longer this time. My true love said "I can't believe I'm doing this".
His face was filled with surprise. I felt this huge rush of relief come over me. I kissed him again. Everytime I stopped he told me how surprised he was that this was finally happening. Everytime I stopped I regretted it and immediately put my lips back on his.
Eventually I woke up ... with a smile on my face.

My One Bad Trip

2008-11-13T16:20:00.002-04:00

It isn’t that exciting really. But I attribute that to the fact that I blacked out for most of it. Other people’s drug stories are usually boring anyway. This is more to document what happened that day. Basically I dropped and for the first time, smoked to kick it in. Normally I just dropped and left it at that. Not this time.

We are doing burners in Darren’s house. They are listening to late 80’s Slayer. I’m feeling fine…until the oil kicks in. All of the sudden the music sounds like break dancing music. We were listening to a break dance tape earlier, so I think that’s what we are still listening to. No we are listening to Slayer, but I can’t stop hearing the bloop blip beep blop of the break dancing music. Things are getting really intense and I have to leave. So I walk to the apt across the hall where my brother is. I take my shoes with me, not on my feet. I walk in to the apartment across the hall and put my shoes on, say hi to everyone and then leave again.

Back at Darren’s place I tell Willie I need to go for a walk. They ask me to wait until some joints were rolled. Darren asks me if I’m feeling the intensity and I advise him I am. He says, “Just pet my cat, that’ll calm you down”. I don’t know if he did that to freak me out or if it really calmed him down whenever he did it, either way it fucked me up further. Cats are freaky when high.

So I go to the apt Jesse is in again. I sit there for like 2 minutes and then leave. After about 3 more seconds at Darren’s I can’t take it any longer and I tell Willie I am leaving. I walk out of the apt building and head up the street. I hear Willie calling me. He is about a block away and I wait for him to catch up. Cars seemed to be zooming by and the noise is deafening. The cars are all leaving streaks of color behind them. I’m not freaking out but I’m not having fun.

I turn a corner and we double back and wait in the park. Darren and the other guy we dropped with (Todd) are there. We sit down and enjoy the ride…until my dad shows up. Jesse and My father pull up in the truck and wave me over. They talked to me for a minute about where they would be (or something equally harmless) and then leave. Jesse later tells me that I looked dead. Like a corpse.

It was after that that all I could see was black with stars. Just like in outer space. I didn’t pass out. I just went blind. That worried me. I could still hear everyone but couldn’t see anything. Then I blacked out. I remember Todd left to go have dinner or something with his grandmother… I think. I remember waking up on and off for small moments like being at Willies. I remember sitting down to watch a movie. I remember it was about a box that strangles people. It had a wire that tightened. Or that could have been something the boys were discussing while I apparently participated the whole time….but remember none of it.

Eventually I came out of it and we were downtown again. Todd was back and I could see again. Apparently I had lost like 4 hours or so.

I didn’t learn my lesson.

Regrets

2008-11-09T13:13:00.005-04:00

Today I was on facebook and was invited to join a group in memory of a friend who killed himself 10 years ago. It made me so happy to see him remembered by all those people. It also made me sad to see his face. I never fully remembered what he looked like but I always had an image in my head of his smile everytime I thought of him. That smile stuck with me.
I always think of him whenever I look in the mirror and see my own eyes. Once he asked to speak to me in private at someone's house. We went into the bathroom and he told me that everytime he looked at me he had a song run through his head. It was the one that goes: "When I look into your big brown eyes". I was a total bitch to him and laughed in his face and ran from the bathroom. I didn't really think about how cruel I was being. I was just thinking that I already had a boyfriend who was probably very upset that I was talking to another guy alone in the bathroom. I was also thinking that it was a pick up line and didn't want him to think I was the type of idiot who falls for that stuff. I have a hard time acknowledging that people's feelings are real and not just made up as a way to manipulate me. I can't imagine how I would be special enough for someone to actually think of me like that in their spare time. I guess that if I could change something from my past, that would be it. Not because I think it has anything to do with his suicide, but because it was a really shitty thing to do, even if it wasn't intentional.
I was scrolling through the friends list and kept seeing all these people I used to hang out with in high school. I wanted to add a lot of them but kept getting scared. I don't want them to know what I'm doing with my life. After a while I decided that was stupid and couldn't remember why I want this life and that life seperated. Then I stumbled upon the profile of the rapist and all the reasons clicked back together. Now I'm just sitting here feeling stupid and intimidated.

The Cd Rack

2008-11-07T15:39:00.002-04:00

About a week before all this shit between Dan and I happened I reorganized the CD rack.
My music is the most important thing I own. So it takes me forever to be willing to mix mine with someone else's. I always worry that I'll break up with them, or they will move out, and insist that some of my Cd's are actually theirs. I am not willing to lose a CD over a break up. It took 3 years before I trusted him enough to be willing to mix my Cd's with his. One week later I was separating them again. Fuck.

Nobody's That Nice.

2008-11-04T12:32:00.004-04:00

I hate hearing people tell my boyfriend what a great guy he is. I hate it for multiple reasons. First off why do guys always get all this praise for being good boyfriends but ladies are just expected to be good and no one notices. No one thinks to comment on their role in the relationship unless they are cheating bitches who play head games? It reminds me of how guys are awesome when they help with the cleaning or raising (aka babysitting) their own kids. That shouldn't be out of the ordinary, it should be reality.
I also hate it because people praised him before we dated, to try and convince me to go out with him. Yet, even though he is so awesome, they didn't think to date him themselves...I wonder why.
Mostly I hate it because it makes me feel more like shit than I already do. Like I'm an asshole for ever questioning his good guy status. I just want to scream at them.
Person: Dan's such a great guy, your so lucky, he's blah blah blah.
Me: DAN HIDES A LOT OF WHO HE IS FROM THE WORLD! DAN TALKS ABOUT YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK! DAN REFUSES TO TALK TO ME ABOUT THINGS THAT DESTROY US! DAN CHEATED ON ME WHEN I WAS HAVING A MISCARRIAGE FOR OUR CHILD! NO DAN IS NOT AS EXTREME AS HIS MUSIC BUT HE IS NOT THE "EXACT OPPOSITE" EITHER! BLAH, BLAH, SOME THINGS I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO FIND OUT SO I HAVEN'T EVEN WRITTEN THEM IN HERE BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO EMBARASSING, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!

I know most of the time it isn't being said as an attack on me. I just can't help but be reminded of how loved he is and how indifferent people are to me. So if we ever do break up, do I still have any friends?
You don't know someone until you date them in my opinion. I never pretend to know how someone else's significant other really is when no one else is around.
Is it really this black and white or am I just over reacting. I guess I just assume everyone know's my flaws but doesn't see my good points (good ole low self-esteem at work). So when they seem to only see the exact opposite in him, it makes me think they all see me as a bitch who complains about her boyfriend too much. Like I never have the right to say anything.
It makes me feel like a liar. I think it all traces back to the rape. Everyone was constantly telling me what a great guy he was, and trying to convince me to go out with him. So I did. He cut my heart, cunt, and brain into little bitty pieces and my 'friends' never believed me. So I guess thats probably the real issue with it. I guess that's why it bothers me so much. It's has the potential to turn into the same shit, but on a different level.

I feel like a huge bitch for even writing this.

Beards = Suck

2008-11-02T11:22:00.002-04:00

Last night I had the worst dream that ended in the best way.
I was at work and someone broke into the house. The someone was "the rapist". I ran up the stairs and yelled to the ladies, who were all hanging out in their rooms, to get in the bedrooms and lock the doors.(I don't think the doors lock in real life so I don't know what I would do if this really happened.)
I ran into the office and locked the door and dialed 911. But I was shaking so bad that I kept hitting wrong buttons. I called 411 first and they just got annoyed with me. Before I could hit the right combination he broke down the door. I managed to squeeze by him and escape from the house. It was obvious by this time that it was me he was after so the other ladies were safe.
I ran down to the next set of houses and someone let me inside to use the phone after a lot of begging. Again I just couldn't get the hang of it. He burst into that house just as I finally dialed the right numbers. I left the phone off the hook and ran outisde again. I ran until he caught up with me beside a flag pole. He started choking me with the rope that you hoist the flag with. That was when the police arrived. He wouldn't stop so they had to shoot him.
Then a bunch of people that I was hanging out with in other dreams that I had last night, previous to this one, came rushing up. One of them was an old high school friend. I'm not sure why but we started kissing. It was basically the best kiss in the whole wide world and went on forever. If it was real life and not a dream I would say it was a good 15 minutes. It involved no tongue, just lips and was sweet and hot all wrapped up into one. The rest of the dream was totally worth the ending. When you go out with a guy who has a beard it's basically impossible to kiss like that any more. Maybe this part of the dream happened because last night Barb made a comment about how happy she was that Adam shaved his moustache. She said "It felt like I was kissing someone else's dad". It never really feels like that for me but it sure is frustrating that I can't get a good kiss in. Tongue kisses are still doable but lips basically disappear in a beard. My hatred for beards has resurfaced after this dream.

Happy Howloween!

2008-10-31T08:49:00.004-03:00

I worked the overnight shift last night. On my way home I pass a school, so I got to see a bunch of kids living out their fantasies. I saw two little boys dressed up as Ricky and Bubbles. I saw a little girl dressed like she was from the future. When I saw the little fairy I started to cry. She looked up at me and smiled the biggest, proudest smile, and my eyes couldn't help themselves.
I don't know why that happens. I'll be enjoying kids and then.. BAM!... I'm crying. Well I know why. It reminds me how important it has been to me my whole life to have kids. It reminds me of all my unfulfilled dreams and goals. It reminds me of my miscarriages. So that was a lie. I do know why I cry. I just don't understand why I cry like none of that is ever going to happen.
Even with the crying it still made my halloween rock to see them all this morning. No parties or bar hopping tonight will compare to that. It will be fun, but not fulfilling.

How Would You Summarize The Story of Your Life?

2008-10-29T03:11:00.008-03:00

This is from some weekly survey thing that my facebook sends me. I'm either really bad at summarizing or I've had an eventful life. Either way this isn't very summarized. Notice any patterns?

I was born in Amherst. I had an older brother who teased me to the point of insanity and a younger brother who I used as my own life sized doll. I played in the back yard a lot. There was only one other girl in the neighborhood and she didn't come out to play very often so it was usually me and about 10 guys. I played a lot of baseball, football, guns, doctor, strip tag, and some other game where you pulled down your pants layed there and a boy layed on top of you with his pants down and then you called it sex.
I ended up going to grade school and it was pretty uneventful until about grade 3 when I got my first crush and my first clique of female friends. After that it was all downhill. The next 4 years were crushes, Y Dances and Rap Traxx.
Next up was Junior High. The friends started to play all those mind games that teenage girls play on one another. By grade 8 I got sick of it and distanced myself from them completely. I spent my lunch breaks in the handicap bathroom writing all my thoughts out on strips of brown paper towel. I stopped eating. The only people I hung out with were my brother and another boy from the neighborhood that I had a crush on.
Now we come to high school. In grade 9 I start dating the neighborhood boy. He loves me at home, ignores me at school. We eventually stop talking all together.
I discover Riot Grrrl and sit in my room everyday after school listening to music. Alternating between thrash sessions and writing sessions. Each day at school I get called freak. Each day after school I am followed by a group of sexual harassers. This goes on for about 2 years until grade 11. I discover animal rights and decide to be a vegetarian. A guy likes me, I don't really like him but date him anyway. He rapes me, I die, come back to life, break up with him. Hang out with his best friend instead. I refuse to admit what he did to me so everyone thinks it happened because I was malnourished. I give into my moms tears and start eating meat again. Eventually I end up alone with the rapist in a comatose drunken state, he rapes me again. I get a new boyfriend. I start to feel weird, my life long struggle with depression begins. I don't know how to handle it and start cutting myself because for some reason it makes me feel better, eventualy I try to kill myself. That doesn't work so I start doing more drugs and drinking more. The boyfriend cheats on me and breaks my fucking heart so bad I want to die again but keep flashing back to my parents crying eyes in the counselling sessions. I do more drugs and drink more. I purposely drop a course halfway through second term of grade 12 so that I am unable to graduate and get to stay in high school. I do lots of acid. I start dating my drug dealer. In order to make the return to school worth my while I take a one year business course which gives me my final credit as well as an accounting and word processing diploma. I find a source for self esteem in the awesome grades I'm getting. Something goes wrong with my nerves and everytime I try to get high I take convulsions, no matter how little I do. So I stop doing drugs. I get high honours in my course and because of that my average grades in high school become honours as well. I start eating again. I go back for yet another year to upgrade my math and english so I can go to Mount A and take Commerce. My english teacher tries to convince me that I'm not a business person and that I should study english or sociology. I don't listen.
I go to Mount A, I hate commerce and drop out by second term. I work in a factory for a year. I decide to take another course at the same school my drug dealer boyfriend plans to go to. I get a student loan, get laid off so I can get unemployment, promise some people a drive to Moncton everyday. Two weeks before the course starts they cancel it. So I take computers instead because I feel I have no choice but to take something. I get high honours and everyone gossips that its only because the teacher has a crush on me. I decide to go back for the optional second year for more advanced networking knowledge. I move to Moncton and live with the boyfriend and the boyfriend from grade 9. I go to a party for everyone from the first years course. The teacher is there, he advises everyone he is gay, I remind everyone of their shitty rumours about how I got my marks. The boyfriend doesn't want to stop playing video games long enough to get a job. I eventually end the 5.5 year relationship and move back to Amherst. I travel back and forth to Saint John a lot to visit my brother and the new guy I'm doing. I hate school and am thrilled with my new single girl lifestyle. I quit school again. I stay in Saint John so often my brother says I may as well move in with him. I take him up on the offer. I work at Sobey's and do a lot of drinking in my free time. Eventually the guy I'm sleeping with starts to date his roommates sleepmate. Eventually I start sleeping with his roommate (not in a vengeful manner). I take a puff off a joint and don't convulse. I start getting high on a regular basis again. Eventually their school year ends and everyone moves away. I sink into a deep depression and spend the summer drinking alone a lot. I start cutting again.
By the time my birthday arrives one of my brothers school chums moves back. He takes me out to McDonalds on my birthday because I was all alone and pathetic. Eventually we start dating. I start working in call centers and get cheated on non sexually a few times. I get really depressed again, start cutting again, and then wash down a bunch of pills with a bottle of wine. I wake up puking. I spend the next two months living with my mother and going to counselling. I got a lot of reading done. I move back and go back to the grind. Eventually the boyfriend and I break up, kind of mutually. We sleep in the same bed for about a week afterwards, and then one night I come home and he is on the futon. I start caring about nothing but drinking and being away from my house as much as possible. A month later he moves out and I am stuck in my cycle. I develop a huge crush on a guy I see in the street one day.
I meet a new guy. We start dating. I break up with him because I think I'm in love with the guy I never even met from the street. I realize how lucky I was and we start dating again. I decide to try being vegan for a month, after the month is up I forget that I was trying and it becomes a habit. The Boyfriend moves in. I get super depressed again, and start cutting again, but this time I ask for help. It's a difficult process and I kind of just get pushed around with no real results. I get discouraged and give up. In the middle of a big work gathering I find out I'm having a miscarriage for a baby I didn't know I was pregnant with. I take some time off work because I'm sad and bloody as hell. They don't approve of my time off and ask me to come back. I quit instead. I discover an email where my boyfriend is setting up meetings at his work with another girl. I learn that the one person I truly trusted, because they had been cheated on too and knew how badly it hurt, was just as bad as everyone else. Eventually I mostly forgive him. Eventually I stop worrying about taking the pill, eventually I end up pregnant again. I start to bleed again. On valentines day I have an ultrasound and am told it's been dead for about 3 weeks. I carry it around for another 3 months, because doctors think I'm trying to get an abortion or something, before it finally expels itself from my body. I do lots of drugs and drink lots of booze to numb the pain. A few months later a deep depression settles in again. I start cutting again and start looking for help again. This time I'm luckier. I take a 3 month long class on how to beat depression that involves group therapy. I start to feel a little better but realize most of my depression these last few years is from working in call centers. I quit and start looking for something that pays less but is more rewarding. I find a job that pays the same and is rewarding. My life seems to be going where I want it. I see hope. I come home from visiting my dying grandmother in the hospital to discover that my boyfriend has been taking advantage of my night shifts and trips to amherst by watching porn...constantly. I get super upset, during the 2 week long fight the incident of his cheating during my first miscarriage comes up. I find out there is more to it than I was originally told. I spaz out and punch some walls and slam some doors. I realize that I am currently not financially stable enough to live on my own otherwise I would be single right now because I'm sick of people hurting me and always being forgiven. I cut myself and then instantly regret destroying all of my hard work. I refuse to let this set me back. I tell myself I will try to forgive. I realize I still love him but may never forgive him. I try not to think about it. I start my own savings account just in case. I start making my own friends, just in case. I start thinking about going to AA and NA meetings....just in case.

A Letter and a Party

2008-10-22T12:51:00.005-03:00

We were at a hotel and had just gone downstairs to get a drink. My fragile emo boyfriend was acting very hipster and self centered. I was trying to figure out how I ended up with this guy, and looking for whatever it was I must have seen in him. We were interrupted by a very attractive acquaintance of mine. We talked for a while and then he said he was on his way out of town. He told me how happy he was to see me before he had to leave. We said our goodbyes and he walked away. Shortly after my drink arrived. It was in a huge cup. I picked up up and said
"What the hell is...", something fell out of the hollowed out bottom.
My emo boyfriend hadn't noticed. I looked down the bar and saw the old friend looking up at me, he was gesturing for me to hide the note. So I shoved it into my bag as fast as I could. Emo boyfriend noticed this and asked what it was. I told him it was napkins, because you can never have too many napkins. Emo boyfriend was suspicious. Shortly after that I got up to go to the washroom so I could read the letter. For some reason Emo Boy was allowed to follow me into the women's washroom so I used the washroom for real and left.
He then told me he wanted to try on some clothes at the hotel mall (it was a big hotel). So I waited until he was busy in the dressing room and told him I wasn't feeling well and would meet up with him back at our room. He protested but I walked away. I ran back to our room and took out the letter. As I was unfolding it he burst through the door and I ran to the bathroom with it.
The dream gets a little fuzzy at that point. Emo boyfriend turns into real life Dan, and he forgets all about the letter. He is very excited about the party we came to attend. That's why we were in a hotel. Apparently there are these parties he used to go to before he met me, in this unnamed city we were visiting. He was vague about the theme of the parties and said they were indescribable. Apparently only the elite were invited. As we were leaving the hotel a buxom lady dressed all in black pressed past us in the doorway. Dan became excited, because apparently she was one of the more famous party goers in the city. He turned to me saying,
"Do you know who that is? That's Black Widow!"
So finally we came to the party house and walked inside. There were extremely tall men dressed in creepy Alice in Wonderland type bunny costumes, with extra large fluffy testicles, guarding the door. Apparently it was customary for the guards to grab the head of all females and rub their face in the testicles. I don't know if it was the scowl on my face or what but they didn't attempt it with me. Dan was getting more and more excited to be there. We walked in and it was just a bunch of people dressed in slutty goth/lolita type clothing hanging around with their drinks held high. It seemed so pretentious i wanted to barf. There were foils from cigarette packages all over the floor. Some were blank, some had a light gray writing on the paper side. I noticed one foil with a whole poem written on it and another with just one word. There was a gothy girl going around gathering them all up and putting them into a trash bag. Dan grabbed one off the floor and walked into the main room. I started to follow him but the goth girl stopped me. She said I didn't have an invitation so I wasn't allowed in. I pointed to Dan and noted that he didn't have one either. She explained to me that the piece of tinfoil in his hand was an invitation. I asked why they were all over the ground and she explained that people just threw them on the floor as soon as they gained entrance to the party and it was her job to pick them up to keep the place clean. I told her Dan picked his up off the ground. She said that was pretty smart of him. I started to look for one so I could get in long enough to tell him I wasn't attending his snooty party. She had cleaned them all up. I looked in and Dan was in the kitchen with a bunch of gothy girls hanging around him, he noticed me at the door and I told him I was leaving. The gothy girl with the garbage bag gave me a sarcastic pout. I didn't really want to be there anyway. It was obvious by now it was some sort of goth sex party. I was pissed at Dan for tricking me into going. I saw him trying to push past his slutty new friends to chase after me. He knew if he didn't leave with me now he would lose me forever. I don't know why he cared, if it was so important for him to fuck other people, why wouldn't he want to be single. The gothy girl was upset. She obviously wanted him there, and didn't want me there which is why she was giving me such a hard time. She told him I could stay as long as he would stay. I wasn't interested.
I pushed my way past the creepy bunnies and ran out the door. I just didn't want to see him right now and looked around for somewhere to hide. All I could think about was reading that letter. I ran to a field beside the house and hid behind a rock. I dug out the letter but before I could read it I noticed everyone from the party running over to my rock. They had found me. Dan and I got into a huge argument and i started to walk away. I heard him say "Fuck it!" I looked back and he had grabbed a really tall, bald, goth girl and said to her "Bitch, I'm single tonight". Then he kissed her and all the people from the party cheered. I rolled my eyes and walked away.
I unfolded the letter and the first thing I noticed was a quote at the top that was about 4 lines long. The rest of the letter was about 3 pages long. I was just starting to be able to read it when I woke up. I think it was some sort of love letter. I always wake up at the good parts.

It Really Has

2008-10-15T12:11:00.001-03:00

Oh oh, oh no
Uh oh, uh oh
Oh no
Stupid, stupid

The sex has made me stupid
Tequila's made me stupid
The grass has made me stupid
Success has made me stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid

When a conversation starts
You can't remember the question
Please sir, can I have some more
Get down go, go
Down go, go

When he's up against the wall
Another act of agression
I want you on the floor
Get down, go, go, down go

When a conversation starts
You can't remember the question
Please sir, can I have some more
Get down
Can I have some more

And when he's up against the wall
Another act of agression
I want you on the floor
Get down go
I want you on the floor

The sex has made me stupid
Tequila's made me stupid
The grass has made me stupid
Success has made me stupid

The sex has made me stupid
Forever's made me stupid
The weather's made me stupid
Whatever's made me stupid
Your love has made me stupid
Stupid

He has made me stupid
She has made me stupid
We have made me stupid
I have made me stupid

Get down
Stupid
I want you on the floor

The sex has made me stupid
Tequila's made me stupid
The grass has made me stupid
Success has made me stupid
Stupid

The sex has made me stupid
Forever's made me stupid
The weather's made me stupid
Whatever's made me stupid
Your love has made me stupid

Turn it Up - Robots in Disguise

2008-10-14T00:08:00.001-03:00

I woke up weak today and needing your voice
Crawled into the speakers and turned up the volume
Felt so sick today but cured by your noise
My head in the speakers is drowning out volumes

In "Ashes To Ashes" I'm falling falling
In "Ashes To Ashes" I'm losing losing
In "Curl" and "Grazes" I'm feeling feeling
In "Curl" and "Grazes" I'm losing losing

Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn me on

I dress up bright tonight and needing the beat
Dance into the speakers and max up the volume
Feel so high tonight and moved by my feet
My heart in the speakers is loving the volume

In "Pretty Vacant" I'm jumping jumping
In "Pretty Vacant" I'm moving moving
In "Teaches Of Peaches" I'm speeding speeding
In "Teaches Of Peaches" I'm moving moving

Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn me on

In "Delia's Gone" "I'll Keep It With Mine" "Birdland" "Clouds"
In "Sous Le Soleil Exactement" "Sunshine Superman" "I Want You" "Ghosts"
In "Some Velvet Morning" "Paper Wings" "Virginia Avenue" "Laura"
In "Summer's Almost Over" "I Walk the Line" "A Night Like This" "Strange Fruit"

In "Hatful Of Hollow" I'm diving diving
In "Hatful Of Hollow" I'm screaming screaming
In "Boys" and "Voodoo" I'm living living
In "Boys" and "Voodoo" I'm screaming screaming

Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up
Turn me on!

I Still Love My Job

2008-10-11T14:15:00.006-03:00

I work in a shelter for homeless women. I'm pretty good at not feeling too much and letting it get in the way of doing my job. There are people who get upset by the pregnant addicts who shoot up on a daily basis and there are people who are upset about people freezing and dying in the street. Some people are very upset when they see or hear about abusive situations. I remember everyone's shock at the discovery of a guy who chokes his girlfriend in anger until she almost dies and then cums because he likes it so much. These things don't bother me that much. I'm not cold, I'm just able to push those thoughts aside.
The things that make me almost cry are when I discover women crying alone. Sometimes because they lost their kids but usually because they are just severly depressed. I guess it hits me harder because I can relate to it but also because I know there is nothing I can say or do to make it better. I've been that down, suicide down, black hole, helpless down. I've had most of the standard things said to me, so I know they don't help and mostly just piss me off and make me roll my eyes. It makes me almost cry because I feel so helpless and frustrated that I cannot help them. I want so badly to have the magic words that will take away all of that hurt, but those words don't exist, so all I can do is just sit with them and let them know I will listen if they need me to, and will be here if they need anything.
I mean I can't really do anything about all the other stuff either but maybe because of the fact that I haven't experienced those things first hand, it makes it easier for me to ignore. If I sit around thinking about it, obviously it bothers me, but I am able to ignore it on an emotional level if necessary.
I mean I can handle all of it, but the depression is the one that is hardest for me.

Ya know what I despise?

2008-10-11T14:13:00.003-03:00

I hate when people post comments on my blog and don't put their names.
It drives me insane that I will never know who else loves the song "silver suit".
It drives me more insane that someone knew the years I dated Jon Mckiel better than I did. WTF? Who the hell are you.
*explodes*

Who is the real chicken?

2008-10-09T22:40:00.004-03:00

So when I was younger my brother had a creepy friend. I keep forgetting to write about him. This kid was the kind of kid who peeked on his own mom while she was getting dressed and tried to get his friends to look as well. This kid used to come over and play with my brother, and I once found him in my underwear drawer. I think I was about 9 so that would make him about 7.

One night he stayed the night. This meant that he would sleep in my room because I still shared a room with my lil bro. So it was time to sleep. My brother layed down in his bed, I layed down in mine, creepy boy remained seated. He advised us that tonight he was going to sleep like a chicken (his parents had chickens on their farm). We thought it was strange but went along with it because, hey, who were we to judge. So he sat up in bed, in the corner, with his knees pulled to his chest and an arm wrapped around his eyes. I fell asleep.
I then woke up because he was lifting the blankets from my body. I was confused and didn't know how to handle this situation so I pretended to still be asleep. He then tried to lift my pants to take a peek at what was beneath them. I was still scared to make a fuss, so I pretended to stir in my sleep. That scared him and he ran back to his corner and took up his chicken position again. I was creeped out so obviously I didn't go back to sleep.
About 5 more times he repeated this procedure and each time I used the stir in my sleep trick, each time pretending to be more and more awake without actually confronting him about what he was doing. He just did not get it. Finally on another attempt my older brother was heard coming up the stairs. Chicken boy started the run back to his bed, but was too late. He was caught standing in the middle of the floor. I heard my older brother say "What are you doing up bud?" or something of that nature because that is how he talked. I heard freak boy say "I'm sleeping like a chicken". Then my older brother told him to lay down and go to sleep in a tone that led me to believe he had some idea as to what was going on. It must have scared chicken boy because he actaully did go to sleep after that.
I didn't. I don't think I slept at all that night, and after that I made a point to stay away from home whenever the little fuck came to visit. I don't know why I was so chicken to confront him about what he was doing. What is wrong with me when it comes to this shit?

......And Then I Woke Up.

2008-10-06T09:36:00.008-03:00

Those dreams are true which we have in the morning, as the lamp begins to flicker. -Ovid

A lost but happy dream may shed it's light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace. - Walter John de la Mare

Send me your pillow, the one that you dream on, and I'll send you mine. - The Smiths

I can't remember how it started. I just remember I was walking through a field and he was there and somehow he knew how I felt, and he felt the same way. So I was on my way home to sort it all out in my head because I wanted to make sure I was making the right decision before anyone was hurt.
We reached the street and it was filled with children. They were teasing us and so we hid in someone's back yard. There was a porch swing and we sat on it. We were scared to touch each other. But we were close and I could feel him anyway. Somehow I ended up on his knee and he brushed my hair to the side and kissed the back of my neck. It caused me to grind into him a little. He smiled and said "Yes please". I always did think he had good manners. I laughed and turned around and sat beside him and he leaned in to kiss me. Very lightly on the lips. I kissed him back a little harder because I was looking for something deeper. I wanted him to know that it was ok and I wouldn't break. But he would barely brush my lips with his. It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss me, that was just what he needed at the time. We started to undress.
Those damned kids showed up again. He tried to chase them off, but he had no pants on so they made fun of us even more, and I sat on the bench and laughed. When he came back he asked if I wanted to "watch a movie at his house". I had forgotten all about going home to sort out my head and agreed. So we started walking. We stopped at a school building and he kissed me again. Again it was very lightly, again I tried for more. Eventually we found a compromise and eventually it started to lead to other places.
But of course as usual in my dreams we were interrupted by a guy on the street. So he pulled me into the nearest room, but the guy had followed, along with another guy. Apparently we accidentally walked into the men's washroom. I recognized both of the guys. One was a guy my mother used to take care of at a teen group home when I was a kid, the other was a guy who I went to school with, he used to be in my Sex Education class. Two bad boys I used to have mini crushes on in junior high. I told them how I knew them. Then I told them it probably wasn't a good idea for me to be standing around in a men's bathroom with a bunch of guys talking about sex, even if it was just sex ed. So I left the bathroom. He followed laughing, and leaned in to kiss me again. But the fucking alarm went off and I woke up. It was "I think we're alone now" the old version, not the Tiffany version. I wish it was true. I want to go back to sleep.

Hike for My Youth 2008

2008-09-29T15:25:00.012-03:00

So on September 20th I turned 30 and needed to prove to myself that I wasn't as old and decrepit as I think I am. My birthday present/celebration was a 3 day hike at Fundy National Park. Just me and Dan, alone, under pressure. It was a test of my 30 year old body and our 3 year old relationship.
Here are some photo's and highlights of the trip.

This is on the first day of our hike, we were about 1/3 of the way to our first camp and it was going to be dark in about 4 hours. We started really late and ended up having to walk in the dark with head lamps for about the last hour and a half of the hike. Man was I paranoid. I kept hearing noises in the woods but it was just stuff on my pack shifting. I hate the dark woods unless I'm sitting in front of a campfire with a tent to hide in close by.
Before it got dark we saw like 3 bunnies but that was about it as far as wildlife goes. I'm not even sure if we saw any squirrels on day one.
I was also whiny because I had blisters and my feet hurt already. My shoes were new and kept stretching into shape, so I kept having to adjust them. That's OK though because Dan was super whiny and bitchy the next night, so we are even.
Dan had just peed in the bushes to his left. He seems really happy and proud of his accomplishment.
I will never be a fan of that thing he wears on his head...NEVER!

This picture is taken facing in the exact opposite direction of the the one above. I'm not sure what it is I'm doing here. I'm also not sure what Dan did to make this picture turn out so yucky looking. After it was taken we had a big discussion about the importance of preparing the camera. We also discussed how photo's from above tend to make people look chubbier than they really are.
There was a beautiful view and he somehow missed it in both pictures he took.
(more pictures here).

Ah the first camp site. We waited until morning to take pictures because we didn't find the actual site until about 10pm. It was dark and I was starving. I had a terrible time getting the fire lit for roasting our soy dogs, so we caved and used the little propane stove and a pot. They were the best thing I ever ate, but I'm sure under normal circumstances they would have been the worst thing I ever ate. After we were finished eating the fire just burst into flames while we were sitting there. Which was super annoying because it was time to go to bed, but then we had to wait until the fire actually went out on it's own because we had no extra water and Dan had already peed. We didn't get to bed until like midnight. Stupid fire.
I love the pained expression on his face. While this picture was being taken he was telling me (through clenched teeth) to hurry up because crouching was accentuating all the pains from yesterday's hike. Good times.

This is Dan's second attempt at getting a decent picture. It's about a 30% improvement I guess.
I am so proud of that sign. Also it looks like I'm preggers and may have a penis.
As you can probably tell, I find it next to impossible to not rip myself to shreds when I view photo's of myself.
We didn't get any pictures of the actual camp because by the time we remembered we had a camera we had already packed up. These pictures were taken after we got some drinking water out of the lake that this sign is warning us about. Don't worry we had this concoction we put into the water to make it drinkable.
I was pretty tired since we thought it would be a good idea to leave the tent pad home to save us some weight, but damn the ground was cold.
My bum was the coldest part on my whole body and was causing me to shiver uncontrollably for the first hour after we went to bed. This probably wouldn't have been a problem if I had two layers of clothing on it but I don't wear panties with cheek cups. I'm one of those people that has a constant wedgie, and so I figure the less fabric up there the better. Stopping every five minutes to pull my panties out of my bum would drive me nuts on a hike. And that's all I have to say about that.

I held the knife to Dan's throat and told him he had better write something romantic in the wood of the picnic table at each campsite. And so he did. I wonder if I'll remember to look for it next year, or if we will even get the same camp site.
I'm pretty sure carving in a man made picnic table doesn't violate the rules of "Leave no Trace". I can't see how it would. Besides...everyone else was doing it.

This is the second river crossing we had to do. Dan advised me to undo my chest and waist strap while crossing the water because its safer. It makes it easier to get off if you fall in, and if you fall on your face the other person can pull it off quickly so you can get up faster. After the first river crossing, I tipped over and fell into a bush because my pack was wobbling all around from not being strapped on correctly. Dan refused to assist me until he had his shoes back on. So I became very upset. About two minutes later he tried to take my picture at which point I firmly told him "I don't want my fucking picture taken, I'm pissed off".
By the time we came to the next crossing I had calmed down a little and he took this picture instead.
This crossing was only about a 3rd of the distance as the first one but the water was rougher and I was a little scared of falling in (since I already fell in a bush a few minutes earlier). So I got halfway across and handed my pack to Dan who had already crossed. This made it much easier. It also gave him a chance to redeem himself for not helping me earlier.
We refilled out water bottles here because the water from before had actual bugs floating in it and I didn't see any sense in drinking that if I didn't have to. Also bugs are NOT VEGAN! If I can't see them, well then that's OK.

Once again this is the same spot but facing in the opposite direction. I'm not sure why he decided to sit in this position. It looks terribly uncomfortable.
Before this river crossing we had to walk downhill on switchbacks for like 30-40 minutes straight. I think it was the hardest part of the whole hike for me. The hills were tough to go up but going down on a path just wide enough for my feet was even harder.
Although I had a hard time with the cold bum thing. Dan had a hard time with the cold water. He said his feet felt like someone dropped a concrete block on them.
Mine were cold but bearable, in fact I didn't mind it at all and found it quite refreshing. I must just be tougher because my cottage is at five islands and I used to swim in the Bay of Fundy in September when I was a kid.
Dan on the other hand is wimpy because he always swam in swimming pools.

I love this picture.
So after the river crossings we had to climb back up the other side of the valley. When we got to the top we were starving. So Dan cooked up some Teriyaki "Sidekicks". Our meals were pretty shitty because we didn't have much time to plan ahead. I also forgot to make tofu jerky which I think would have been delicious and filling.
This is also shortly before Dan found a tick on himself. *shudders*
Notice the no biking sign. We are sitting right on the edge of where the biking trail meets the switchbacks down to the water. Shortly after eating a couple came down the bike path and we had a friendly chat with them. They asked us if we saw any animals and we told them about the two bunnies and the many squirrels we saw. They seemed disappointed that we didn't see any deer or moose. Then they latched on to the subject of rabbits instead. We didn't talk about how wonderful nature is to view. Instead they tried to get into a discussion with us about rabbit stew. We kind of just sat silently while they talked and eventually they got bored and biked back up the hill. I'll never understand how someone can go into the woods and see the wildlife and the only thing they can think about is eating them.

I'm looking a little weathered here. I sat there smiling for about 45 seconds while Dan kept saying "smile" over and over, eventually my smile morphed into a scowl.
I'm also not enjoying how my hair looks like I attempted to create mall bangs.
This is about 2/3rd of the way through day 2. Before we left on our hike we had stashed a jug of water in the woods at the top of the bike path that the last pictures were taken on. We used it to refill our water bottles with clean man made water before exiting the woods. Then we crossed the road and came to a park at the entrance of the next path where we discovered a tap that magically spurted clean water. What a waste of time. Oh well next year we will find somewhere better to stash the clean water. I already have an idea of where.

Awwwww. The second picnic table at the second camp site. These were taken the next morning because yet again we had to walk in the dark. Probably because we woke up so late that morning thanks to that stupid fire that kept us up all night. The fire lit right away on the second night but again took for frigging ever to go out and neither of us was willing to walk the 30 seconds down to the lake to get some water.
This was the night that Dan was bitchy. He also admitted to being paranoid. Walking in the dark the second night didn't really bother me that much at all.
We met that bike couple again on the way into the path. We exchanged polite hello's but no more discussions of murder.
We had rice for supper that night. It took forever to cook and by the time it was done I was so tired I couldn't bother to put the effort into eating enough of it to get full.

So here is me with the SAS survival guide and a bottle of vanilla schnapps. Dan snuck it into his pack and brought it out the first night. I told him I appreciated the effort but sticking a candle in a soy dog would have been a lot lighter to carry. Then he could have taken on something else from my pack. That would have seemed like the best present ever by the end of the second day. The pack was starting to get mighty heavy, even though in reality it was getting lighter.
I had a few sips of the schnapps but Dan basically drank the whole thing to himself.
The sleeping was better the night before this picture was taken. We discovered 2 emergency blankets (the thin silver things) in the first aid kit. We laid one on the bottom of the tent and one over top of us. It worked great except that the one over top of us was all wet on top from where we breathed on it all night, and that spilled in my face every time I tried to roll over.
That morning we were woken up by a German couple having an argument on the path above our camp site. I guess they couldn't decide which way to go. I should have told them exactly where I thought they could go.
Then when we got out of the tent we found animal tracks all around our camp site that weren't there the night before. They were medium sized and not hoofed, that's the best description I can come up with. I probably should have taken a picture but hey, you get three of the same picture of me in pigtails instead.
We heard something large barreling through the woods while we were cooking our breakfast of Mr. Noodles that morning (As I said we had no time to plan meals before we left). Whatever it was it upset all the squirrels. It sounded pretty big but maybe I was just scared.

This is Dan at the lake right beside our 2nd camp.
The last day of the hike had 2-3 more river crossings. I was scared to do them with my pack so we discussed ditching our packs in the woods at the end of the next trail (which had a road beside it) and just going without them for the rest of the hike. But then Dan said his feet get too cold in the water. So basically when we went to bed on night two we agreed to not do the last day. I regretted saying it when I woke up in the morning but didn't want to make Dan think he had to keep going just to please me. I know I could have finished the three days no problem. Especially if we did ditch the packs.
So we hiked back out the way we came in making the trip 2.5 days of hiking instead of 3 full days.When we came back out we were in the picnic park again. Apparently a party had taken place the night before because at one of the picnic sites there was a bunch of empty beer cans and an empty bottle of Boones laying on the ground. As well as a pack of cigars that had just been spread all over, a bunch of fliers, and some untwisted coat hangers. I was pissed. People fucking suck. I wasn't leaving until I got it all cleaned up, including the gross coat hangers that were probably used to cook dead animal parts.
In the parking lot we discovered an empty bottle of fire fuel and a log laying beside a woodsy area. Apparently littering wasn't good enough and they wanted to start a forest fire as well. Assholes.

So we hid our packs and prepared for the long walk along the road back to our car. Dan suggested hitch hiking. I have never hitch hiked in my life but I guess 30 is a good age to start. Keeps ya young.
We got picked up by the very first car and they were really nice and drove us right back to our car. This restored a small amount of my faith in humanity.
First thing we did was stop at a store so I could get a caffeine fix. I propped my feet up on the dash tilted the seat back and we made our way back home (after picking up our packs and the plastic water jug we hid).
The children (cats) were glad to see us but a little turned off by the smell.
THE END

2008-09-20T15:47:00.001-03:00

I've tried dolls that were guaranteed sixteen or under none were very exciting
sorta like a laugh track or whacking off they’ll get you off but it’s just not the real thing
its been decades since my pit days
but I haven't shaken it - i sit there like an idiot
still caught up in the old punk protocol
and dreaming that the teenagers will think that I’m a radical

and i still wait for the bus to come where high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my hometown

all this talk and no action’s got me stiff from the tit to the bone
so I'm living in lala land - but at least I'm not living at home
same old catcall same old chemicals
same old thrills stealing stockings from the shopping mall
its simple enough to grow the fuck up happy with the rough cut
nobody's in the market for a diamond in the rough but

i still wait for my mom to come and pick me up at holly’s house
10 years after they cashed it in to make a multi-level parking lot for a seven-eleven and burger king

I’ve got cryptographs I’ve got all the phones tapped
I’ve got proof enough it is indisputable
love’s not good enough i want pies and graphs
something that will teach me my arithmetic at last..

better rope the folks in - I’m on the loose again
and getting more ridiculous the more i think i ought to get my mind out of the gutter
(it’s getting dangerous, Amanda, god - you’re old enough to be his fucking...)
my own private highway from the cradle to the grave
i save a bundle skipping middle age and Saturdays

and i still wait for the cops to come where the station since burned down
still convinced that they’ll pick me up for all the sins i committed in the back of the banged-up pickup truck

i’ve got autographs, backstage passes and leather jacket back patches up the...
ask me anything i’ve got evidence
single serving saccharine packets dripping black with lipstick kisses

i still wait for the bus to come back where the high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my home-

I’m no pederast it was nice to ask
thank you ,but I’m capable of getting up and getting dressed
love’s not good enough i want photographs
something that will stand the test of...
time and time again
I think ill head downtown again
oh god
I’m thirty
no, I’m ten
I’m seventeen
and a bank of boston beauty queen....
-Amanda Palmer

I'm a Matooore Woman

2008-09-16T15:23:00.003-03:00

Wow I didn't think Disney would ever speak such filthy words.
Also this video has taught me that I am an unnormal freak because my period is irregular.

When they talk about being able to do everything you normally do, while the girl is dancing with the boy, is it just me or are they referring to riding the red sea when they specify "practically" anything.

Try this on for size:

SWF in search of:

2008-09-15T13:29:00.001-03:00

coin operated boy
sitting on the shelf he is just a toy
but i turn him on and he comes to life
automatic joy
that is why i want a coin operated boy

made of plastic and elastic
he is rugged and long-lasting
who could ever ever ask for more
love without complications galore
many shapes and weights to choose from
i will never leave my bedroom
i will never cry at night again
wrap my arms around him and pretend....

coin operated boy
all the other real ones that i destroy
cannot hold a candle to my new boy and i'll
never let him go and i'll never be alone
not with my coin operated boy......

this bridge was written to make you feel smittener
with my sad picture of girl getting bitterer
can you extract me from my plastic fantasy
i didnt think so but im still convinceable
will you persist even after i bet you
a billion dollars that i'll never love you
will you persist even after i kiss you
goodbye for the last time
will you keep on trying to prove it?
i'm dying to lose it...
i want it
i want you
i want a coin operated boy.

and if i had a star to wish on
for my life i cant imagine
any flesh and blood could be his match
i can even take him in the bath

coin operated boy
he may not be real experienced with girls
but i know he feels like a boy should feel
isnt that the point that is why i want a
coin operated boy
with his pretty coin operated voice
saying that he loves me that hes thinking of me
straight and to the point
that is why i want
a coin operated boy.

copyright 2002 amanda palmer

Her Jazz - Huggybear (story of my life)

2008-09-11T16:25:00.002-03:00

I watched us struck
struck by lightning fuck
you been out driving me into your dick
guiding me

boy girl revolutionaries
you and me
that's what you told me
so show me
I'll run you over
watch me

when you say it say it is us two too
true you taught me how to shoot
and best pull up my skirt
and put up with hurt

boy/girl revolutionaries you lied to me
boy/girl revolution teaze
you lied to me

mental...men-torn
you had your way
you had your say
and had your way with that girl
now come on outta your world
struck by my good luck
face it you're old and out of touch

you're burnt out fucked up attitude
post-tension realization
this is happening without your permission
the arrival of a new renegade
girl/boy hyper-nation

boy/girl revolutionaries you lied to me
boy/girl revolution teaze
you lied to me

A Psychological Experiment

2008-09-11T15:36:00.005-03:00

Take you, on a day your feeling pretty good about yourself. Your feeling pretty confident about who you are and where you are going for once in your life. You also found someone who your confident feels pretty darn good about you too. You feel happy, secure and stable and like you are finally moving into the life you want.

Now stand yourself next to a Smart, Interesting, Blond, 20 year old, Tight Pussied, Bouncy Breasted, Cheerleader. How do you feel now...a little less good? (We are assuming you are a heterosexual female because we are biased in our research.)

Now stand your significant other next to her, give him "curiosity about a flare up of feelings" for this girl who apparently left him severely broken hearted after a year long relationship. Oh and she just happens to share a lot of his major hobbies and interests.

Push yourself over to the side, give yourself severe depression, no job, a bloodied miscarrying crotch, and a mother who is living with you for a week.

Now tell yourself that this was 2 years ago and it was only two dates and some emails and he is still with you and not her...feel a little better?

Well wait, now tell yourself that he never actually broke it off with her, she just moved away again like she did the first time she left him.

Feel like getting out of bed ever again?

Lifeguard Sleeping Girl Drowning

2008-09-06T08:20:00.005-03:00

Last night I had one of those dreams, but it was different this time.
It was one of those dreams where I am about to hook up with someone and then all of a sudden I remember I have a boyfriend. For some reason I always forget until the last second, then I have to call the whole thing off. Sometimes in the dream I realize I like my real boyfriend better than the dream boyfriend, sometimes its just because I respect them enough to not do that to them. Either way I never go through with it.
This dream was different though. I remembered and went through with it anyway because I figured "If he could do whatever he wants when I'm not around, then why can't I".
Then I woke up depressed and sat there thinking while you continued to sleep with a clear conscience.

Now all I can think about is how easily you fooled me. I don't mean it was easy because I'm stupid, I mean it was like second nature to you. There were no flaws in your plan for me to detect, no changes in your behavior, no indication at all.
You started seeing someone else right after we decided to get an apartment together, and at the same time I miscarried our child. Why would you choose to share all those things with me if you didn't even want to be with me. I remember you seemed so concerned and so caring while you took my blood pressure and sat with me at the hospital. A different kind of caring, like it was our thing to care about. I remember how excited you seemed when you realized we could have kids eventually. Those moments were important to me, they took me to another level in our relationship, but they don't mean anything now. They seem like lies, or scenes played out by an actor. The place we first really talked and where I first fell for you (where I planned on asking you to marry me) is now the place you used to meet up with her behind my back. Things you wanted me to try like climbing, things I started to enjoy even though I thought I wouldn't, are now tainted because they are things you two shared in common and discussed on your meet ups. Yeah I believe its possible to have feelings for two people at once, but I don't believe its possible to respect them both by telling lies to one.
I guess there was something I noticed coming from you at that time. You seemed annoyed with me after all the hospital visits were over and I spent the next month sitting home bleeding. I always felt like you thought I was taking advantage of the situation so I didn't have to go to work. You seemed short tempered and unhappy, but maybe that had nothing to do with what I was going through. Maybe you were more worried about yourself and how you were trapped with me instead of with who you wanted to be with. I wonder if you would be with her instead of me now, if that never happened.
So that was two years ago and I should get over it. I guess the problem is that everything that happened in those two years was built on lies, so basically they didn't really even happen. Its like starting over, but with less hopes and dreams. Instead there are fears and hurt feelings, those aren't very good things to build a foundation with.

Past Note to Self

2008-08-25T09:32:00.003-03:00

"If we I ever build ~~our~~ my own house we I need a higher sink."

Is it because of love or am I just too tired to change every little note that I have left for myself?

So you get a fourth chance, but use it wisely because you won't get a fifth. Five is my favorite number and I won't let you ruin that too.

Another year of barricaded tears standing in the audience of bands whose songs hit too close to home.

Am I "only good enough, 'till someone better comes along"?
If you need to know if I still care about you I'm sure my "spasms are answer enough"
I'm sure you work really hard to make sure it "look's real good from the outside".
"FUCK YOU!"

What's a Girl to do?

2008-06-23T13:56:00.003-03:00

My boyfriend....who was in a punk band...doesn't understand how I can listen to punk music while high. Apparently he finds it "aggravating" (this is the guy who is currently in an industrial band).
I'm not sure how to deal with this information.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Is it a Bomb, or is it a Clock?

2008-06-20T14:41:00.004-03:00

Its Summer Solstice!
I turn 30 in exactly 3 months....scary.
I've noticed that the closer I get to being too old to have kids...the more I think about not having them at all. I really, really, really want to, but I also don't feel I've accomplished the things I want to with my child free life. But what if I still don't do any of those things AND end up not having kids. EEEK!
If I was born with a penis I wouldn't have to worry about this foolishness. I'd just have to worry about being suave enough to pick up a young fertile maiden.
Oh well, maybe in the next life.

And Don't Talk About It, or Think About It, Just Get Over It.

2008-06-11T14:09:00.003-03:00

I found this today and wanted to save it here.
The original was on The Buffaloe Pen

DON’T WRITE A POEM ABOUT RAPE
by Julie Buffaloe-Yoder
For the editor who told me rape is not a fresh subject he knows who he is).

Rape is a cliché.

Unless it happens to you.

But don’t write a poem about it

or the editor might say

it’s just not fresh.

Rape is not fresh.

It’s been done too much.

It’s too emotional, confessional.

There are too many words.

People are not shocked anymore.

Don’t write a poem about it

especially if you were in the dark

university parking lot, a little more than tipsy,

and he forced you into his car with a gun.

Dark parking lots and guns are so overdone!

Don’t write a poem about it

especially if the digital time on his dash

was 12:00. It’s too much like the Twilight Zone

especially if those stiff red numbers

still ring in your brain sometimes

when you’re in the grocery line

and you drop everything you got, and the tomatoes

and the peaches, and the can of cream corn

go rolling down the aisle.

Don’t say he drove you down a dead end road.

Don’t tell how he bent your fingers back,

slammed them with the door over and over.

How heavy-handed can you get?

Don’t tell how he took the right to bare your arms,

your legs, your goose-bumpy little nipples,

and when he ripped your shirt in loud red shreds

you were trite enough to worry

what people would think about you.

For God’s sake, don’t say you were a virgin.

Honey, save it for the Movie of the Week.

Don’t tell about the fistfuls

of sand and gravel in your open mouth,

your open face, up your open legs.

It’s just not fresh.

Maybe try a different point of view.

Don’t tell how he held the gun so tenderly

in your ear, under your tongue,

deep inside the stretched-out skin

of your nostril, and you could smell the click

as he cocked it, and you could taste the click

in your throat as he made you call him Lord.

With the right music, it might work for a porno flick

but not for a literary journal.

Don’t tell how you looked up at the full moon

with its mouth torn into a little o

as you waited for it to be over.

Don’t you know the moon is overused?

And there are inconsistencies if you say

you almost laughed out loud

cause you were a stupid little twit who thought

who actually believed the first time would be romantic.

Don’t write a poem about it. Just don’t.

Especially if you went crazy when it didn’t end

and the only defense you had was to black out

and dream the damnedest dreams about a book

you used to have when you were a girl

and you dreamed a little song about the silvery moon,

the moon on the breast of the new fallen road

the Carolina moon that kept shining, shining,

shining on the one who’s raping you.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t over

but the Goodnight Moon was gone,

and you saw an old woman in the distance

come out on her porch to hear

what all the Hell raising was about,

turn out the light and go back inside

and you might’ve thought Good Night

to the Old Lady Whispering Hush,

but that’s too obvious, and anyway

we’ve heard that story before.

Don’t say he dragged you down the road by your hair,

the gravel chewing your back to bits.

Good Night Bowl of Mush, it’s just

the caveman syndrome. Get over it.

We’re sick of wenchy women poets

who are always bashing men.

And the part where he was gentleman enough

to drive you back to your dorm

just doesn’t fit the character.

Don’t say he told you he’d kill you if you breathed

a word, then asked your forgiveness, told you

not to worry and go get some sleep.

Would he really say that?

Don’t say he drove off in a limp line of smoke

as the sun came blinking over the horizon

and you staggered and puked your way back to your room,

knowing you wouldn’t make it to Psychology class that day.

Don’t talk about the guilt for not turning him in.

Take your ass to a talk show or a support group or a priest,

stop throwing the reader around.

Don’t tell the never ending end

of your whiny little poem. Get a grip.

Especially if your roommate laughed and said

Why would anybody want to rape you?

And the counselor said you’ve got to take control

of your life, and your boyfriend tried to understand

why even his understanding would never be enough,

why even his softest fingertips would always be too much.

So you drank yourself into a quiet rage

and now six years later it’s backed up in a corner

of your throat, bristling, sideways, ready to lunge

at the thickest, closest, slickest, hardest vein.

Nobody wants to hear about it anymore.

And the editor doesn’t care that

you’ve already cut half the words

and many of the details.

It’s still too sprawling, too baggy,

too talky, not fresh.

Go tell it to Ginsberg, we’ve

got a comma to perfect.

But if you’re that damned stubborn, go ahead.

You’ll write the poem alone

and it’ll live in a junk drawer

swelling up like a belly

under a pink pile of rejection.

Serves you right.

So stop acting like a bitchy female poet.

It just won’t work. It’s just not fresh.

Flashback 1994

2008-06-07T11:00:00.005-03:00

I've been living in this weird sort of fear for the past week because one of the bands that Dan is in was supposed to play with an old boyfriends band. This is a guy I went out with in high school for Christ sakes. I shouldn't be worried about what he thinks of me or where I have gone with my life but for some reason I do. Its like going to a high school reunion.
Here I was walking around all week worrying about how fat I had gotten, what my skin and hair looked like, whether or not I was any smarter than I was back then, the fact that I still don't really have any female friends to hang out with when the boyfriend is on stage, etc, etc, etc. We didn't even go out that long. It was just under a year and I was only about 16 at the time...but he was my first real boyfriend. The first one that I had sex with, the first one I used the L word with. Our lives mainly revolved around fighting, fucking and hanging out with (usually) his friends and getting high.
I was a complete psycho when we were going out and I guess thats where most of the embarrassment of seeing him again comes from. When we got in fights I sometimes would hit him. I punched mirrors and smashed them, I had about 3 panic attacks a day, I tried to kill myself, and whatever other destructive behavior you can think of. I also started cutting during one of our fights. If you re-read the blog entry about cutting, the boyfriend it mentions is him.
But he wasn't an angel either and probably some of his behavior contributed to my "emotional problems". He gave me my first and only STI, luckily curable, after telling me that he never slept with anyone else before (and I seem to remember someone telling me that he probably didn't but that he did sleep with someone shortly after we started going out). He not only hung out with my rapist (knowing the full story) but started a band with him. But I didn't even mind all that at first.
The final breaking point of our relationship was the day that turned me off of salad for about 3 years. We were hanging out with his friends and they were all going to go watch Showgirls to stare at the boobs, or whatever it is "Men" do and he declined. I was thinking I had the best boyfriend ever at that point. We went to his house, did it, and then had a nice dinner with his family. Then he told me he had to go visit his grandfather (who really was deathly ill and in the hospital at the time) and so I went home...and made a nice garden salad. Then as I was watching TV eating it his friend called and told me that he was actually hanging out with some other girl at her house. So I called that girls house and he couldn't come to the phone because he was in the driveway waiting for his mom to come and pick him up. So I ran down to his house and waited at the end of the driveway and when he got out of the car and tried to explain I kicked him in the bum. Then we sat on the porch talking for a while, and every time he said shit that hurt, I would throw a snowball in his face. I tried not to, especially after he told me he wouldn't talk to me anymore if I did it again ... but I didn't succeed. Then he went inside. I walked home and called him instead and we talked almost all night long while I chain smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes by lighting one directly off of the other. It was a scene that I would repeat many times since then with other men.
So I guess that hurt a lot and I don't hold a grudge but I do hold the hurt and can't seem to drop it. I'm really proud that he is doing something he loves and doing it well. Its just that every time I think of him or if I do end up seeing him, it's a reminder of how shitty I was back then (hitting) and how worthless he made me feel about myself (this came about a year after the rape so I was basically feeling pretty worthless anyway and this was the icing).
But he decided to bail out of the show and so now I don't have to see him. When I heard this I was relieved, disappointed and a little pissed. He will probably book another show in the future so I'll end up seeing him anyway. I just want to get it over with.
I feel so pathetic to be controlled by something that happened 15 years ago with someone I haven't seen for 10 years.
*Screams*

Once upon a time...

2008-05-24T10:26:00.002-03:00

there was a girl sitting in her grade 9 English classroom. The teacher was discussing The Outsider by Albert Camus. He was describing to the class what existentialism was and how it applied to the character in the book. Basically he stated that someone who is an existentialist feels that there is no purpose to existing. That its all nothing and this causes them to be alienated, bored, and think that a lot of stuff is just absurd. With that alienation comes freedom though because they don't have to follow all of the rules of life that make no sense to them. But there is still that nothingness at the heart of it all...so in order to make life worthwhile they embrace existence and experience. He then asked the class if they knew anyone like this.
One young lady spoke up and said "That is totally, Jennifer Megeney" and then the whole class turned to look at Jennifer and nodded their heads. The teacher also agreed and then the class moved on to the next topic.
I...er I mean Jennifer was left extremely confused. How did all of these people know what she was like. How did they know her thoughts when she never spoke and had no friends to tell things to. She did hang out with the young lady mentioned above twice....but that was it. How did they know so much about what was going on inside her head. To this day it still weirds her out.
The End

She's Lost Control

2008-05-21T16:50:00.003-03:00

I've been in counseling for a while now and in group therapy and taking Life Skills classes. There is a lot that goes on that I don't agree with. I'm pretty open minded and willing to try almost anything but sometimes it just seems wrong.
One thing that bothers me is that there is this weirdness about crying. I'm supposed to cry, but not too much, and only when talking about certain subjects. For instance crying about the fact that I had a miscarriage is ok. Crying about guilty feelings from my past is not.
But I guess what bugged me the most about it when discussing the issue of crying and when its appropriate is the fact that I was "crying for my baby". But I wasn't. Call me fucking selfish but I was actually crying for myself. I guess you could say I was feeling bad for myself. I'm just so sick of this shit happening to me. So sick of being born depressed and then having all these little tragedies (2 rapes, 2 miscarriages, constantly being cheated on, finding out I may have lupus, 2 failed suicides, etc) piled on top of it. So sick of feeling like things can only go further down hill every time I think its over. I didn't bring that up though because sometimes I just want to move on to the next topic.
Speaking of next topics...another thing I don't agree with is makeovers. I don't stink. I brush my teeth and hair. I take a shower most days. I wear makeup when I go out, I constantly suck in my gut and dry my hair into place. I use face cream and face washes and even body cream sometimes. So why the hell do I need a makeover?Well because I don't care about my appearance...because I'm depressed? I was told that I only wear dark colors, and dress like a teenager. It was pretty fucking insluting.
Sure I don't dress sexy or sophisticated but that doesn't mean i don't care how I look. It means I have a different style and different things I find important other than fashion. But apparently "If you want people to take you seriously" you should dress differently. If people don't take me seriously thats their fucking problem. If they can't see past my lack of fashionable clothing than why would I assume they would be a good person to associate with anyway. I mean yeah, I know how to dress for a job interview, but thats different than everyday. I did tell them my opinions on that one but it went in one ear and out the other. Then I felt like shit for two weeks thinking I looked like trash. So whatever I guess.
Enough ranting.
The End

I could live a little better with the myths and the lies
When the darkness broke in, I just broke down and cried
I could live a little in a wider line when the change is gone, when the urge is gone
To lose control when here we come - Ian Curtis

Our Wedding Song

2008-05-07T21:29:00.004-03:00

So I thought it was important to address my feelings on the song "skull fucker". Its a really good song. The music is awesome, the layout is good, the lyrics are written well, and now its mixed really well. Just one thing bothers the shit out of me and thats the subject matter. I make jokes about it being my mom's favorite, or about how romantic it is, but I'm usually really uncomfortable when the subject of that song comes up.
Its like coming home turning on the computer and finding traces of really violent porn that your boyfriend was looking at while you were out. If he doesn't think about it then why does he write about it/look at it? I know he isn't supposed to be the skull fucker...but its still scary that he came up with the song in the first place.
During shows I stand in the audience and feel like everyone is staring at me thinking about our relationship. Maybe they think I'm as crazy as one of those ladies who writes love letters to murderers in prison. At the last show I actually got so uncomfortable I had to walk away. I never walk away before the band is finished.
How does, what I consider to be a very feminist male (in every other way), write a song like that? It makes me question everything I am told on a daily basis. It makes me question my trust. It makes me scared that maybe he pretends for me so he doesn't have to be alone, but he is really someone else. It makes me feel stupid for falling for something that may or may not exist (or something that other people think exists). I don't like having to question his intentions like that, but who the hell wouldn't. Its messed up.
I worry that these things are written in a fit of rage after we have a fight. As though they are some way of getting back at me for hurting him. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit.
I also worry that it will influence someone in a negative way. It just feels like more woman hate to me even if its supposed to be someone else's fucked up version of love, it still promotes hate. I would like to see him write something like that about another race and see how quickly people are to come to his defense about it being just a song, written from someone else's perspective. I know he thinks about it, but he wouldn't fucking dare write about it. Those song's never get written in the first person.
Its too bad though, because it is an awesome song. I just wish it wasn't written about a fictional character. If it was about a real killer or something then I would be more comfortable because at least he didn't think it all up by himself. I guess thats what bugs me about it. I have a hard time believing these thoughts come from no where.

Some Favorite Blog Posts I've Read Lately.

2008-05-07T20:51:00.006-03:00

Kate Harding writes my favorite blog about sizism and you should check it out. This is a piece she wrote for Blog Against Disablism Day.
Why I Don't Use the Word Retarded

A day in the life of a high school feminist from Hell on Hairy Legs Blog. Oh the memories.
High School is Depressing

An article on home schooling and making it a feminist issue.
Won’t Get Schooled Again

This one ripped my heart out yet gave me hope.
Why I am an Abortion Doctor

A quote: ""I was taught to see racism only in individual acts of meanness, not in invisible systems conferring dominance on my group" Good stuff, very informative.
White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack

A similar article from the blog "Fatshionista" that discusses Thin Privilege.
Fatphobia: The Fat Elephant in the Room

I am torn on the issue of pornography,I have to assume that is because I hate the thought of censorship, but I have to wonder if I would be less accepting if they were video's demeaning another race. So I veer towards the side that wants to get rid of it. This is one of the many articles that I have read lately that reinforced that feeling and made me remember just how shitty it is. Sometimes I forget because people like to make you feel like there is something wrong with you for pointing out how shitty it makes you feel to see it.
A cruel edge: The painful truth about today's pornography -- and what men can do about it

That reminds me....I should write soon about how the song "skull fucker" messes with my head....a lot. For some reason I think people either think it doesn't, or it shouldn't. So I need to address that.

2008-05-04T11:53:00.002-03:00

I may have written this in here before but I was listening to the song below today (because of some loser roaming around harassing all the ladies at the bar last night), and it reminded me of some other losers. I think its fucked up enough to mention again.
When I was in grade 9, for a whole year, these guys used to follow me home from school. It started out that they would just whistle and yell sexual things and tell me how hot I was. Then one day when they realized that I wasn't going to turn around and drop to my knee's to suck their cock's, something changed. They still followed me every day, but the things they said changed. Instead of whistling and stuff they started yelling to me that I was a fat ugly bitch, and that I smiled like the joker.
(I stopped smiling for a while because I actually believed this. To this day I still catch myself covering my mouth when I smile.)
Then after a while they just couldn't make up their mind. One day they would be yelling at me how hot I was, and the next how gross I was. It was quite confusing. I was uncomfortable with both methods. They both sucked and made me feel really self-conscious and unsafe.
I guess drunk guys at bars who hit on me remind me of that because you know that one minute they are (what they think is)sweet to you and then when they realize you aren't interested they become really vicious and hateful. Its fucking scary.

Terrorist - Heaven's to Betsy
you follow me on the fucking street
you make me feel like a piece of meat
you think i don't know what war means
now i'm the terrorist see how it feels

i'm going to kill you
i'll cut you up gouge out your eyes
i'm going to kill you
i'm not your prey i'll make you die

on my mouth there is a gag
everything i say is wrong
you laugh at me and knock me down
now your turn is coming around

i'm going to kill you
i'll cut you up gouge out your eyes
i'm going to kill you
i'm not your prey i'll make you die

i'm not kidding
and i've had it just about to here
and i'm not kidding
i threaten everything you hold dear

you follow me on the fucking street
you make me feel like a piece of meat
you think i don't know what war means
now i'm the terrorist see how it feels

i'm going to kill you
i'll cut you up gouge out your eyes
i'm going to kill you
i'm not your prey i'll make you die

Why girls cut themselves

2008-03-26T11:10:00.001-03:00

Why girls cut themselves

MUAH HA HA HA

2008-02-28T20:16:00.002-04:00

Tampires

A Neat Video

2008-02-26T20:02:00.008-04:00

Review of the video:
"VERY VERY COOL VIDEO...FINALLY SAW IT TO THE END!
SHE IS SO DARNED AWESOMELY CREATIVE" - Daniel Chamberlain

So there! Now watch it.

Oh and it involves Adrien Brody which makes it even better.

"A Sorta Fairytale"

on my way up north
up on the ventura
i pulled back the hood
and i was talking to you
and i knew then it would be
a life long thing
but i didn't know that we
we could break a silver lining

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

things you said that day
up on the 101
the girl had come undone
i tried to downplay it
with a bet about us
you said that-
you'd take it
as long as i could
i could not erase it

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and i ride along side
and i rode along side
you then
and i rode along side
till you lost me there
in the open road
and i rode along side
till the honey spread
itself so thin
for me to break your bread
for me to take your word
i had to steal it

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

i could pick back up
whenever i feel

down new mexico way
something about
the open road
i knew that he was
looking for some indian blood and
find a little in you find a little
in me we may be
on this road but
we're just
impostors
in this country you know
so we go along and we said
we'd fake it
feel better with
oliver stone
till i
almost smacked him -
seemed right that night and
i don't know what
takes hold
out there in the
desert cold
these guys think they must
try and just get over on us

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this
day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and i was ridin' by
ridin' along side
for a while till you lost me
and i was ridin' by
ridin' along till you lost me
till you lost
me in
the rear
view
you lost me
i said

way up north i took my day
all in all was a pretty nice
day and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i, i don't
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this

But, but, but ... Canada is perfect....

2008-02-26T19:57:00.003-04:00

Yeah...No. Keep working Canada.

Docs refusing to perform paps on unmarried women

A Book I'm Reading

2008-02-19T20:35:00.002-04:00

I've been reading this book. I highly recommend it. I'm not good at writing reviews so this is where this will end.

Perfect Girls Starving Daughters

I'LL PUT ON MY SILVER

2008-02-11T10:09:00.001-04:00

I just wanted to express my love for this song somewhere. Bouncing off of clouds by Tori Amos. It has so many little elements that suck me in. I swell inside with the musical changes...and outside. :)

Bouncing off of Clouds we were
Is there a love Lost and Found

Make it easy
Make this easy
it´s not as heavy as it seems
Wrapped in metal
wrapped in ivy
paint it in mint ice cream

We could be Bouncing off the top of this Cloud
I´ll put on my silver
Bouncing off the top of this cloud

Failure to respond but
I did. But did you listen?

Bouncing off the top of this Cloud
I´ll put on my silver
About what you said, has it come to this?
I´ll put on my silver
Bouncing off the top of this Cloud

Well you can stare all day at the sky
But that won´t bring her back
that won´t bring her back
You say you´re waiting on Fate
But I think Fate is now
I think Fate is now
waiting on us

Make it easy
easy easy
we could make this easy
easy love easy
we could make this easy
make this easy
it´s not as heavy as it seems
make this easy
make this easy
it´s not as heavy as it seems
wrapped in metal
wrapped in ivy
blue umbrellas smiling

We could be Bouncing off the top of this Cloud
I´ll put on my silver
About what you said, has it come to this?
I´ll put on my silver
Bouncing off the top of this Cloud
i´ll put on my silver
About what you said, has it come to this?
I´ll put on my silver

Bouncing off of Clouds
we were

IMPORTANT....VERY IMPORTANT.

2008-02-05T15:56:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wonder if all of this BS is the reason I had to carry a dead baby around for 4-5 months and suffer pain for almost a full year, because as the nurse at the hospital advised me "We no longer do D & C's"

Roe v. Wade: Celebrating 35 years with Everyday Heroes

Celebrating a victory for women

20 years since abortion was legalized in Canada

NEW BLOG!

2008-01-09T14:58:00.000-04:00

So I've started a new blog specifically for a set of letters that my counselor has me writing to people in my past who hurt me. If you care about that stuff the link is over there ---->
Love Jennifer

Best Video Ever

2007-12-20T19:49:00.000-04:00

I had to save this somewhere. Fucking Awesome.

Best Video Ever

DANGER!, Feminine Cycle Stuff Within

2007-10-10T18:08:00.000-03:00

I went to the doctor today. I started getting really worried about that cyst that they mentioned. I was also more worried about the fact that I get a period every two weeks ever since the miscarriage. I know it takes a while for the body to go back to normal but I was told that in about 6 months I would be able to conceive again.
Its been 6 months and this period thing is still going on.
So my doctor is out and he had a female replacement.
When I came out of the room Dan exclaimed "Wow, that was fast!"
And it was..but I learned more than I learned in the multiple hospital/doctor visits since January.
She told me that what was happening is this:
The cyst was fine. It was under 2 inches or cm (I can't remember which) and its only something to worry about if its 3 or over (which I remember reading but was never told what the size was or just don't remember). She also told me that its what happens during a pregnancy (which I also read up on a bit but didn't really understand). I'm not sure why no one else explained that to me. I'm not sure why they thought it was ok to say "You have this but its nothing to worry about". I'm not sure why they bothered to mention it in the first place if it was nothing and normal and I was there to find out what was wrong.
So then I told her about the period every two weeks. I explained how I have my regular period and then about two weeks later I have a really light period. She asked if it was more than 3 tbs or if it had clots in it. I told her it did not. She said this is normal. Apparently for the first two weeks of the 28 day cycle your progesterone builds and then drops, then the estrogen (I may have these two things backwards but whatever you get the point)builds then drops. So there is a period (of time) in the two week mark where they cross. They are crossing at a lower level for me than normal, so I am not hanging on to the tissue that is building in my uterus. Some is being expelled before its supposed to. She said eventually that will go away. She asked if I was trying to have a baby again and I told her not yet. Then she said something that was weird. It was the only thing about the whole session that wasn't perfect. She said "How old are you" and I told her I was 29. She then said "Oh, well then you don't want to waste any time then". I was like ... WTF?
I mean I know I'm not young but I'm not even 30 yet do I really have to worry about the ticking clock that badly?
But I let that slide since she filled my head with all of the information no one else would give me.
She then asked me what my doctor told me was the reason for the miscarriages. I told her he never felt the need to look into it. He said it was normal and that they do not investigate these things. She gave me a strange look that led me to believe this was BS (I know it is because every single thing I read and everything everyone else told me proved different). She then looked over my file and my blood work. She thought she had the wrong info because the blood work was from February. I then had to explain to her that although the miscarriage started in February and was believed to be over in March, it didn't actually happen until April or early May. She wondered why they never did an ultrasound or D&C in order to avoid infection. I told her I had no idea. So she decided with all the complications maybe I should get some more blood work, and because there was never any tests for my thyroid and she thought those were important. So I have to get that done now.

So I left her office feeling great. Except for some reason...now I am having a full blown period and not just the small amount I discussed with her earlier. It also has some clots in it. I just had a really heavy one almost two weeks ago exactly. I didn't have a pap or anything so its not from any aggravation. So I have no idea whats going on and why this started up again all of the sudden. Is it psychosomatic?
Its been almost a year. I'm just getting used to always being bloody. *sigh*
I guess I have to make another appointment.

Links To Interesting Things I Read Today

2007-10-10T15:44:00.000-03:00

I decided to read "The Context" after seeing this small part of it on another blog:
From the minute I leave my house in the morning I am inundated by misogynistic messages, from the things I hear people say to the images I see all around me. For every one time that I make any sort of comment on these messages there are approximately 1,172 times that I’ve recognized something as sexist and not said anything. There are about 5,249 messages that I didn’t even pick up on.
So I related and I read.

I have never read the S.C.U.M. Manifesto before. I had only read parts...Its exactly what I thought it was...scary. But I see it written all the time from the other perspective. So I guess it serves its purpose. If you take it as a sarcastic/ironic response to all the woman bashing then its quite bang on. I've never been sure if that is how I'm supposed to take it or not. If its not then .... scary.

OOOH BAD!....OR NOT.

2007-10-09T20:42:00.001-03:00

Greed:	Very Low
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Low
Pride:	Medium

Discover Your Sins - Click Here

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

My Grandfather aka Pup

2007-09-28T13:40:00.000-03:00

I went home recently and visited my grandparents. When I walked in the door I saw my grandfather choking and throwing up into his plate. It made me really sad so I thought I would tell some awesome things about him that make me smile and laugh.

He has a glass eye. He just got it within the last few years. Sometimes his eye gets itchy so he rubs it. Sometimes it falls out and he doesn't notice. One day my grandmother had visitors. They saw something on the floor and bent over to pick it up. They freaked out when they realized what it was but had no idea where it came from.

When I was younger he used to pressure me to join the army because there is good money in it. He loves money. The rest of the family calls him a loan shark. There are always people coming to the house and giving my aunt money to give him. Money they loaned from him. He's pretty tight with his money as well....very tight. When he has a special quarter that my aunt collects he won't give it to her unless she trades it for another non-special quarter.

Once I lifted something heavy and he yelled at me to put it down before I strain my uterus. I'm not sure what he thought I was going to do in the army in order to avoid straining my uterus.

He used to drive me to school when I was younger. My grandmother would make me wear kerchief's on my head so I didn't get ear infections. He never ratted me out for tearing them off before I stepped out of the car and onto the school grounds. I always appreciated that.
His car is always full of empty beer bottles and stuff. If he drove you somewhere you could always expect at least one extra stop because if there was a bottle on the side of the road he would pull over and get out to pick it up. This was another thing that stems from his love of money.

I love him.

*pictures grandfather peeling out of the driveway on his new wheelchair/scooter thingy*

Damn Right

2007-09-13T22:55:00.000-03:00

"We demand: respect, equal wages and orgasms."
-Danish feminist poster

That was really all I wanted to post....but now I feel obligated to say something intelligent that I made up myself. But there is nothing.
Probably because I am drunk...that happens a lot lately. The self medicating.
I know what I can talk about.
I can talk about Go Banana.
My "band" thingy.
So I write all of these songs (this is the only thing that no one knows about me...even Dan has no idea because I hide them)for this band I pretend to have. I call it Go Banana. I joke about how its me and my cats..but really thats just so I can make fun of myself...because that makes me feel like less of a loser.
ANYWAY!
The other day a co-worker/friend said I wasn't in a band and another friend said "no she is in GO Banana!".
I denied that it existed or that I even cared about it.
Today a girl at work asked me about my singing because Dan told her I "rocked".
I told her he only said that because, as my boyfriend, he has to.
I really will not allow myself to be musical. I am afraid of criticism. So afraid that I won't even record something for myself in case someone else accidentally hears it. I remember being pissed when Dan let other people hear the only song I ever started to record, "I met her on the Internet". Even though it was a joke. He jokingly said should write a song about someone and the lyrics were a joke...but I got attached to it. But I never finished it..because if it was never finished then it was never expected to be perfect. I need perfection. I need people to think I am awesome...which is sad. I know I am an alright singer, but I cannot accept that. I need to be awesome. SO if my alright singing is on a song that I never finished, then people will have to assume that if I finished it the alright would be awesome. Dumb yes.
I don't even know where I am going with this as I am drunk and the music is very loud (in order to distract me from myself)..but...long story short..I have absolutely no self esteem.
I'll fix this with more intelligent insight tomorrow when my mind is less foggy. When I can remember all of the things I obsessed about for the past 3 days.
Or maybe I won't...because I am lazy.
NO SELF ESTEEM!
YEAH!
*JAZZ HANDS*
Yeah so here is a link to a half finished, one time vocal recorded song I participated in.
I met her on the internet

MIMO....English

2007-09-10T16:50:00.000-03:00

I really despise myself after I've been working in a call center for a while. It turns me into a bitter, hateful bitch. Not just towards the people on the phone but to everyone. I lose all empathy and just become desensitized to everything.
I really hate myself when this happens, which makes me even more hateful to everything else.
I'm exhausted by the effort it takes to not shut down completely.

It's still not fixed

2007-08-31T18:27:00.000-03:00

You would not believe the amount of times I have edited this one entry. Mainly due to the fact that I don’t want to sound like an insensitive bitch, cry baby who feels sorry for herself, or a girl who “asked for it”. But sometimes it is because I remember more. I took out almost all of the insults towards him and other people and tried to tell it without the anger. I didn’t realize how angry I was, I thought most of it was jokes I was making to hide the sadness. There were a lot of those jokes, so I guess I’m really angry.

Life Plan

2007-08-19T11:35:00.000-03:00

Its my birthday soon and I'll be 29. I'm feeling kind of rushed to do something with my life, well not just something but to give myself the things I wanted.
When I was a teenager I had two different plans...depending on my mood.

Plan 1: Kill yourself before you turn 20 and have to be an adult. As I got closer to 20 it became 21, then 25, etc.

Plan 2:
I was supposed to be finished school when I was 25 and practicing some sort of specialized law (like for women or animals). I was supposed to be moving into my first home. Then I should have my first kid by the time I was 26, my second by the time I was 28 and the third at 30. Marriage and husband were optional...but preferred.

Reality:
I am now 29 and live in an apartment uptown with my boyfriend (who I think has a permafear of marriage due to his first wife), and 5 cats. I have had 2 miscarriages for 2 children that were not planned. I have a useless technical diploma which I hope to never use and only 1.5 years of university under my belt and no money to go back. I work in yet another shitty call center in order to be able to pay off all of those school debts.

But other than the job, I'm pretty happy. I like my life...I just wish I could get the ball rolling on plan 2 before its too late.

To The "You dead yet?" Comment Poster.

2007-06-29T12:50:00.000-03:00

"...nothin's dead down here,
it's just a little tired."

You know what I'm talkin' 'bout.

...

2007-05-14T17:17:00.000-03:00

Today I was thinking about suicide again and the fact that i hate that it will hurt and i'll have to wait. So i fantasized about shooting myself in the head...and for the first time it just felt like the right thing to do and the right way to do it.
I don't know what i'm trying to be but i fucking suck at it and get more tired every year.

No Big Deal

2007-05-09T15:12:00.000-03:00

I forgot to mention that they also found a small cyst on one of my ovaries. I was told it was no big deal and that it had nothing to do with the pain I was having right now. I believe it has nothing to do with the pain but I'll have to do more research before I decide that its no big deal.

Edit:
Best to make a doctors appointment.
http://www.4woman.gov/faq/ovarian_cysts.htm

Alien She

2007-05-09T14:31:00.000-03:00

She is me
I am her
She is me
I am her siamese twins connected at the cunt
HeartBrainHeartBrainHeartBrainLungGut

I want to kill her
But it might kill me

"Feminist"
"Dyke", "Whore"
I'm so pretty
Alien

She wants me, she wants me to go to the mall
She wants me to put the pretty,
the pretty pretty pretty red lipstick on

She wants me to be like her
She wants me to be like her

I want to kill her
But I'm afraid it might kill me

"Feminist"
"Dyke", "Whore"
Pretty, pretty
Alien

And all I really wanted to know
Who was me and who is she
I guess I'll never know
-bikini kill

What to Expect When Your Least Expecting It

2007-05-09T13:05:00.000-03:00

Today I signed into my profile for the "What to Expect When Your Expecting" web site. I was looking for information on children and hearing loss for a thread on the forum.
As soon as the page loaded it popped up with "You are 22 weeks pregnant". Then proceeded to tell me all about the things I should be feeling and doing. It also included a nice little picture of what the baby looks like in my womb this month. I couldn't help but think back to the hamburger like substance I was cleaning up from my clothes, blankets and floor last week.
It was a very difficult moment.

Jennifer's Box

2007-05-08T12:11:00.000-03:00

I suppose I should have worded my last post a little nicer. Maybe added some kind of warning for the disgust. I guess I just don't care enough because everyone knows I am blunt.
I went to the hospital yesterday.
The pain didn't decrease, in fact it got worse. Not as bad as the pain of the contractions, but worse than the other pain before and after. The bleeding had slowed but I figured the pain should be getting better not worse. it was so bad it was making me see colors and I was dizzy and lightheaded.
The doctor I saw told me he wanted to do some blood tests, an ultrasound and a physical examination. The nurse who took my blood asked me if I had been given some sort of pill to take at home for the pain. I mentioned I had not. That was the end of that. She was efficient and friendly and I thanked god for her. Especially after the hell the blood nurse put me through last time.
Apparently the blood tests came out fine and so I was given a glass of orange juice to drink so my bladder would be full for the ultrasound. I forgot how much it hurts to have anything in my bladder lately. As soon as I have to pee the pain increases by like 75%. I had the orange juice at 11:30 and was supposed to have my ultrasound at 12:30. I held it until I was whimpering in pain. I knew it had to be after 12:30 but I couldn't hold it another second. I was going to pee all over the floor. I could not use the muscles needed to hold it in. It was too painful and I was getting really weak just from holding it. So I waddled to the bathroom and I peed.
About 3 minutes later they came to get me. I felt like an asshole, baby who couldn't hold her bladder so I didn't tell them. It was about 12:55 when we got to the ultrasound department. They told me to take a seat. By this time I was in so much pain I couldn't sit or stand. I actually started crying. Right there in front of everyone. Then I was embarrassed about that so I cried even harder. I've never felt like more of a child. I was called into the room and changed. It was a different girl who did my ultrasound this time. The lady I had the two other times seemed to actually give a shit but this girl was very cold and acted like I was a big annoyance. Of course my bladder was not full enough so she made me drink two huge glasses of disgusting tap water with foam on top and wait in the waiting room again.
I kept getting flashbacks to waiting around in hospitals after the rape. Flashbacks to the fucking humiliation and shame. The fact that I couldn't sit down and everyone knew it was because something was wrong with my cunt. It was the same, except maybe everyone just thought I was a whiny bitch who couldn't hold her bladder. Maybe they assumed that’s why I was crying and squirming all over the place.
After an hour I was ready to say fuck it, piss, and ask Dan to take me home because I couldn't handle the pain and humiliation anymore. That’s when she came to get me again. She was a little nicer this time. She did what she had to do and then left to have another doctor check that she had everything they needed. I couldn't hold my pee long enough for her to return. I waited about 5-10 minutes and then had to go. I prayed that she had everything she needed because I have a feeling she would have hated me even more if she had to wait for my bladder to fill again. Luckily they did.
We went back to the ER and were asked to sit in some more chairs while we waited for the doctor. I squirmed and held back the tears for another 10 minutes. The doctor walked up to the desk and asked where I was because I wasn't in my original room. A nurse said "I think Jennifer got sick of waiting and went home". He was turning to attend to another patient when Dan stopped him and told where I was and how I was asked to wait in the chairs.
The only room we had to go into was not cleaned up yet but we took it. I had to lay on an already used bed while he poked at my tummy. He said he wasn't going to do an internal exam because he didn't see any need for it. He said everything was gone from my uterus (according to the ultrasound) and the pain should start to go away now. He said I should take a few more days off of work if I could afford it which caused me to do a giggle/moan type noise. He said there was nothing he could do to cause my uterus to close any faster and suggested I take Tylenol and Advil for the pain. I told him I already had been taking Tylenol and it wasn't working. He suggested taking it more often. I didn't bother to mention how rotten my stomach was from taking so much of it already. I was too busy wondering why no one offered me any in the 5 hours I was there.
I was also wondering what was it that made everyone afraid to look in my pants. Do I look like I have a stinky, ugly cunt? My own doctor avoids it at all costs, so did the last ER doctor and now this one. If I have an infection do the ultrasound and blood tests pick that up? No matter what kind of infection it is? Why do I ever need paps? Why doesn't my doctor just take a vial of my blood which seems a lot easier?
I was also thinking that I never go to the hospital or doctor for anything other than my cunt. The only reasons I have been to the doctor since the rape are because of vagina tragedies, pap smears, birth control, or depression that started around the same time as the rape.

My Vagina the Battleground

2007-05-02T14:52:00.000-03:00

So yeah....finally had that miscarriage.
The spotting and bleeding that was happening in February stopped and I thought that was it. Fuck no.
Last Friday I woke at about 3am with the worst cramps of my life. I was so uncomfortable i had to keep getting up and going to the bathroom and throwing myself around. Eventually I had to get in the bath tub and let the heat sooth some of the pain. Eventually the cramps subsided enough that i could go back to sleep. At work the next day I had really bad cramps all day. Then that evening they got even worse. I'm pretty sure it was contractions. They got closer together until finally they were about once every 2 or 3 minutes. It felt like someone was taking my ovaries and twisting them until the tubes curled really tight, the grabbing my uterus and squeezing it as hard as they could, then letting go and grabbing both sides and stretching it as far as possible. It hurt all up inside my ass and everything.
Gross chunks of stuff were coming out every now and again. Then finally a big huge woosh of bloody flesh and water came out. So of course I started freaking out because I was sitting on the couch and didn't want it to stain. It was all soaked through my bathrobe and underwear so there was no stopping it. Dan came running over to help me and by the time he got there another huge woosh of stuff came out. After that the cramps became less intense.
I spent the weekend on the couch but went back to work on monday. It is now wednesday and its still flowing a disgusting amount.
I'm pretty sure Dan will never want to have sex with me again. Who can blame him. I feel like the most disgusting unattractive person in the world and don't think I will ever get over it. I'm pissed that I had to wait this long for it to end.
I'm just a zombie lately.

Little Death

2007-03-19T11:19:00.000-03:00

I had a horrible dream last night.
In the dream there was a car crash and Willie was in the car. I wasn't there but Jesse was. He told me about it, sparing me the details of course. I was upset about it. Later on in the dream I overheard Jesse telling my mom about it on the phone. While I listened to him talk I saw the whole thing. It was like he was narrating a scene from a movie. He kept referring to Willie as "it". I knew he was doing that because it made it easier for him to talk about the situation. If he pretended Willie wasn't a person and wasn't a friend, then it was easier to think about. I could understand why as I watched the scene in my head.
In the scene my dad was there and he ran up to the car which was on fire. Willie was all burned and trying to stand by the car. He was all slimy and red. It reminded me of the video I saw of a fox who had been skinned alive. Trying to move and look around, suffering so fucking badly that you can't even imagine the pain. That was what he looked like. My dad was trying to help him but there was no help. Jesse kept narrating and saying “It was trying to grab onto the car and trying to climb up, it was in so much pain”.
I woke up and I was crying and I had to run to the bathroom because I thought I was going to be sick.
It got me to thinking about things. Its fucked up that someone can be such a huge part of your life and then they are not in it at all. Its fucked that I felt as strongly for him as I did and now I have no idea where he is. Its fucked up that I can still care that much that I would cry and throw up over a dream. Someone who isn't in my life at all and hasn't been for a long time can affect me that much. If he died in real life I would feel just as sad. If he suffered like that I would feel just as sick...yet he isn't even a part of my life anymore. I still care that much even though I will probably never ever talk to him again. So if he means that much to me (not the way he did when we were together but in a different way now) how can he not be a part of my life.
It’s just fucked that someday he will die and I will cry and I will miss him. But right now I don't cry and I don't miss him. Well maybe I do, I don't know.
It’s the same for everyone I ever cared about Jon, Dave, and Terrance. It just fucks me up to know they are out there and I can't protect them anymore. Parts of my life are out there and when I think about them they feel like little deaths. I feel like I have had many little deaths. Little pieces of me have died. Maybe that’s why I always feel like something is missing.

Happy Anniversary

2007-03-14T15:26:00.000-03:00

Last night he was in my dream. Which is weird because I haven't thought of him or what happened for at least a week or two. Whats even weirder is that every time I dream of him he is saving me from someone or something. That or I am in love with him or having sex with him or something. He is always a hero of some sort in my dreams. Thats fucked up and I have no idea what it means.
Today I realized why I dreamt of him. Tomorrow is the anniversary. My grandfathers 87th birthday and 13 years since it happened. I must have known that I guess.

Money

2007-02-23T13:40:00.000-04:00

I hate myself.

So far....

2007-02-20T18:50:00.000-04:00

So the full story is this. I had some light spotting. I went to see someone in the emergency because it was a Saturday. They told me I was fine (without examining me) but scheduled an ultrasound because I told him I was still worried (see the long story in a post below this one).

I got an ultrasound. When I arrived the woman couldn't find my name. Apparently the girl who booked the appointment with me on the phone didn't bother to put it in the computer. But the lady found my original paper work that was sent over from the other hospital. So she squeezed me in. But the paper work said I needed an ultrasound on my abdomen. She asked what kind of abdominal trouble I was having. Apparently the doctor did not write down that I was pregnant and he did not mention that I was having spotting or any of the other information. She seemed very confused about the way he handled me. She kept asking me all these questions like "Did he tell you what was the matter with you or what could be wrong?" and of course I answered no. Then she asked if he gave me any special instructions like "take it easy" and of course I said no again. Everytime she asked me a question and I told her his answer she looked really confused and even shook her head in disbelief a few times.
So she performed the ultrasound. I peeked. I saw what I thought was a little baby. She kept measuring it. Then she had a doctor look at it and that doctor told me I had a missed miscarriage. So the baby, according to the size it had grown and the fact that it had no heartbeat, died at 7 weeks. I was supposed to be 10-11 weeks. So I had been carrying around a dead baby for 3-4 weeks. Depressing and shitty, but I could get over it. No, not when it keeps dragging on.
The doctor in the ultrasound department wanted me to either go to the emergency or get a doctors appointment right away because missed miscarriages can cause infection and infertility if not treated properly. So she tried to call my doctor...but no one ever answers the phone there so she couldn't get through (I personally have to call 2-3 times and let it ring at least 15 rings each time I call). So she told me that as long as I got a doctors appointment asap I could avoid waiting in the ER. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor the next day. The earliest they could get me in was today.

My doctor had a family emergency and needed to cancel the appointment I had for today. He won't be back until next monday (so I scheduled an appointment for then). But because of everything I read, and everything the lady in the ultrasound department told me, I decided to go to the ER to make sure everything was ok and maybe get a D & C (to get rid of the baby that has been in dead there for almost 5 weeks now). I don't think this baby is coming out on its own, I haven't had anything more than spotting. It also kind of fucks with a person's head to be a walking casket.

The woman in the ER room said they usually don't do D & C's anymore. So I was really confused. Not just because of what the lady in the ultrasound department said but also because of what I was told during my last miscarriage (they said they needed to do an ultrasound to make sure everything was expelled on its own, in order to prevent infection). She said they usually make you wait a really long time before they will give you one. I wondered how long, since it has already been about 5 weeks for me. The woman who took my temperature and blood pressure said the same thing. So although I was very discouraged I figured I should have someone look at me, just in case. Also I really want to know why this happened, this is my second miscarriage. If they do a D & C they can examine it to see if there is anything I can do to prevent this.

We waited for 4 hours. Everyone who came in before me and a whole group of people who came in after me were taken in and looked at. One girl received her diagnosis right there in the waiting room (by a woman who liked to yell everything). I'm pretty sure that isn't the procedure...but what the fuck do I know. I got very upset about the fact that I kept being over looked and very upset about the amount of pain (lower back and leg cramps as well as sharp pains in my abdomen) I was in, which was made worse from sitting in the uncomfortable chairs. So upset that we had to leave because if we didn't I was going to throw myself on the floor and start bawling and screaming. I managed to hold the crying in until we got outside.

I'm so fucked up in my head. I don't even know if I ever want to risk going through this ever again. I really want a child but I don't know if I can handle going through this again. I don't know if I can handle getting pregnant and wondering if there is something I am doing that I could avoid doing. I need to know if its something wrong with me, or something I am doing wrong, or just a freak thing that happened twice in a row. I need this dead baby out of me. I just want it gone so that I can start to feel normal again and stop focusing on it. I want my stomach pop to go away so I can stop remembering all those warm and fuzzy thoughts I used to have. I just want to forget about it for 5 minutes. I am so fucked. I want to tell my mom, but I hate how I only call her when I need help or have bad news. I wish I had just told her earlier because then I could have her here now. Instead I tried to protect her from this. I tried to avoid her disappointment until I knew I was in the clear. I guess I was right in thinking that. I don't know. I'm feeling very bad thoughts and I'm slipping into somewhere I don't want to be. I don't even know what to do anymore.

I find it hard to tell you that I find it hard to take.

2007-02-16T12:41:00.000-04:00

And so I pretend that it only hurts a little bit.
And so I hope you read this...but you don't. And so you don't find out. And so I am the reason I feel so alone. Am I feeling sorry for myself. Yeah I guess so.
I wish I had medical coverage...my med's would really come in handy right about now. Every time I think I'm better something like this happens and shoves me right back down into the hole.
It would be a lot easier to sit on a phone and take shit from people, while a dead baby sits in my stomach, if I had happy pills.
I don't think I can do it. I don't want you to resent me and I don't want people to just think I'm using it as some sort of excuse. I worry that every fucking tear that rolls down my face causes them to think "Looking for attention, looking for an excuse to not have to face the world". I really don't think I can do it and I am scared to tell you.
All I want to do is sit around and cry. Sit around and bleed and cry. Instead I have to go out to work and pretend everything is ok. I don't think I can.
How much longer do I have to carry this around. How many more times do I have to look down at my belly and be reminded that I am carrying around a little dead thing that I loved before it even existed. How much longer before I find out why this happened for the second time. If I even ever get to find out. How much longer before I get to have something I want in my life, something I want that will stay. How much longer before I have to go through this all over again. How much longer before I find out if this is a permanent problem for me that will just happen over and over again due to scarring. I am filled with so much hate right now and that just makes me hurt even more.
I can't even cry in front of you. When I am home alone I cry until I almost throw up, then I cry some more. I am so fucked.

I Make A Great Casket

2007-02-15T14:51:00.000-04:00

So apparently I have been carrying this dead baby around for about 3-4 weeks. Thats been fucking with my head all day....especially since its still in there, a little fetus with no heartbeat. :(
I have to let Jesse know.
This is so fucked.

Happy Valentines Day

2007-02-12T13:11:00.000-04:00

So my ultrasound isn't until the 14th. I was worrying about the wait for the weekend to end, now I'm just fucking pissed off. I'm passing a little bit of fleshy stuff now. There is no hope for saving this baby.
Its very appropriate for me to go on Valentines Day. To be told that the greatest, most important love I will ever have won't be born. I remember watching Six Feet Under and Brenda having a miscarriage and stating something like "Its just my luck to have my dead baby bleeding out of me on my wedding day". I remember thinking to myself: "Thats the kind of thing that usually happens to me". Well I guess this isn't much different. No wonder I related to her character so much.
I guess its time to start telling people and getting it over with.

Adventures in Baby Aborting

2007-02-11T10:42:00.000-04:00

Well this will be yet another entry about my defective vagina.
I went to the doctor on Tuesday. He told me my blood test came back positive (I knew it would anyway). Then he proceeded to do a pap to make sure I didn't have any disease or infection to give the baby. He told me I may have some spotting from the aggravation to my cervix. He gave me my swabs and told me to drop them off at at the hospital.
As we were leaving I had to put my coat on so I asked Dan to hold the swabs (conveniently wrapped in their paper work). When he handed them back to me one was missing. We had to search around on the floor for it. Apparently he thought it was just two rolled up papers. Well let me tell you, I don't normally get embarrassed or care what people think but when it comes to throwing tubes of my vagina secretions around...I get kind of upset. So we found it. Then we left.
The bleeding started on Wednesday. I wasn't worried. It was still going on on Thursday. I decided to take off work and relax in hopes that it would stop. I read a bunch of stuff in my books about how spotting is normal as long as it doesn't last more than three days. Friday the spotting continued, and it was darker and a little heavier. I took the day off again.
Saturday morning we went to the hospital. It went something like this.
Waited 45 minutes for my number to be called (I was the first to be called since we got there so I don't know what they were doing for 45 minutes) Talked to the lady in triage, she marked me as urgent on her little sheet (the second from the bottom, the bottom was something like "dying").
I waited in the waiting room for another 45 minutes. Not a single person's name was called while we waited. The place was packed. When they called my name, I went in and was told to put on a johnny shirt and lay on a table with foot holds. So I did. 5 minutes later a doctor came in. He didn't introduce himself He asked me the same 5 questions the triage nurse did. I watched what she had written earlier and it said "10 weeks pregnant, spotting for 4 days since pap, previous miscarriage."
He didn't read this apparently...though he liked to pretend he was reading. He kept scanning back and forth across the open folder...but not really reading anything. I think it was a way for him to avoid looking at me.
He asked me "What seems to be the problem today."
I said "I'm having some spotting".
He said "When was your last menstrual period."
I said "It ended on December 1st"
He said "Oh, so your pregnant"
I said "yes"
He said "How far along are you"
I said "about 10 weeks."
He asked if I was ever pregnant before, I told him about my miscarriage last summer.
He asked me when the bleeding started and I explained the whole pap thing. He looked confused. Then said he couldn't do an examination until he had proof that I was pregnant.
I thought to myself that he should probably check the hospital records because this hospital was the one who did my blood tests. I said nothing.
He opened the door to my room and waved me to the bathroom and told me to do a piss test, then he walked behind another curtain. As he walked away he said "Sometimes these guys don't know what they are doing". I had no idea what he was talking about but it didn't make me feel too confident about my situation.
I stood there looking confused for a minute because I had no cup. I looked in the bathroom and saw that the cups were in there. I pissed in one and then came out of the bathroom. I looked in my room and he wasn't there. So I went back to the bathroom and stood in front of it. I figured he or someone was expecting this piss and may wonder where I was. Two nurses/doctors standing around kept looking at me strangely but never asking me if I needed help. I waited for about 5 minutes and then finally felt like a moron and went and sat in my room. About 2 minutes later a nurse came in didn't say a word, snatched the piss from my hands and walked away.
About 10 minutes later my "doctor" came back. He told me the test was positive. Then he asked me if I was having any pain. I told him I was having some cramping. He told me he was going to schedule me an ultrasound and that the people would call me on Monday. I was wondering what I was supposed to do until then. He then told me he wasn't going to examine me because I had just had a pap and probably everything was fine. I was confused because as far as I know from previous experience and from everything I had read, I am having a miscarriage. He told me to lay down and pull up my shirt. So I did. He poked at my belly and asked if it hurt. I said "No, all my pain and cramping is in my lower back". He ignored this statement.
He asked me about scarring. I told him that I was raped once, it caused a hematoma, the hematoma (sp?) burst and they had to stitch me back up."
He said "How did that happen"
I said "I was raped"
He looked confused and said "You were what?"
I repeated "Raped"
He said "Pardon"
And I basically yelled "I was raped!".
He seemed to get it after that.
Then he told me to pull up my shirt.
He told me he didn't think I had anything to worry about but that he would have the ultrasound people call me on Monday to schedule an appointment. I thought to myself. If this was a preventable miscarriage, well waiting a week is going to make it unpreventable.
Then he told me someone was going to come in and take some blood and then I could go home. As he was walking out he turned to me and said:
"Do you work"
I said "yes"
He asked me where. I said at NCO. THen he just walked out. I have no idea why he needed to know that. Was it so he could write me a note that I was never given. Am I supposed to take it easy with bed rest. Who knows.
Then a lady came in and said "Ooops, sorry" and started to walk away. Then she turned back and in a mean voice asked me what my name was...as though I wasn't supposed to be there. I told her and she turned and closed the door and left.
5 minutes later another lady came rushing in. She told me to lay down so she could take my blood. She grabbed a bunch of stuff out of the sterile closet. Dropped half of it on the floor, picked it up and proceeded to use it to take my blood. I was laying down and she was standing over me. So when she went to stick in the needle she was basically pointing down into my elbow instead of up into my shoulder. She got one vial of blood, two vials, then on the third she lost my vain. So she asked if she could use the other arm. I said sure. She grabbed some more stuff out of the closet, ran over to the other side, placed it on the bed beside me (instead of using the little wheely cart with the edges that prevent stuff from falling, and prevents me from rolling over and stabbing myself with a needle). Half of it fell off of my bed, she chased some of it back to the other side of the room, put it back on the bed. She looked for the rest, couldn't find it so she went and got more. After getting one vial she lost my vain again. So she tried to find it, which caused my arm to bruise and swell. Then she gave up. She told me I could get dressed, she passed me my pants and she left.
As I was pulling on my panties she opened the door again and came in, no knock or anything. Grabbed something and left. I, having no reservations at all with everyone seeing me naked, loved this. *eyeroll*
So that was my hospital adventure. I went and knew even less than before. The bleeding is getting heavier. I have just accepted the fact that I am having a miscarriage. I'm glad I hadn't told any of my family yet (except Jesse). I'm glad we didn't tell Dan's family.
Basically I have all this guilt. I feel like the worst girlfriend ever because not only am I mentally defective but now I'm physically defective as well. Dan has to put up enough shit with my depression and all my head bullshit. Now I probably can't even have kids. Its probably due to the scarring from the rape.
I feel like an idiot for telling everyone. Now I have to imagine them all talking about me behind my back. Talking about how I should have expected it since I don't eat meat. Yes, people are assholes. I caught my training class at work talking about me one day when I came back from the bathroom. They were saying these types of things. I know it has nothing to do with that. It has more to do with the fact that I have a large amount of scarring up in there.
I feel even stupider for letting myself get happy and excited about something that, I should have known, wouldn't work out.

A List of Fears and Triumphs

2007-01-19T17:54:00.000-04:00

I told Jesse last night when he called. He seemed pretty darned excited. He said he was thinking about planning a trip home at the end of september, so he could be here and see me fat and stuff.
I forgot to mention that the night after I bought the planner I made Dan talk to me. Apparently the reason he wasn't showing any interest and saying anything is because he didn't want to influence my decision. We ended up spending the rest of the night filling in those questions I couldn't answer alone and then laughing at baby names.
Merico? Sounds too much like a gaming system. I can't do it. Sorry Dan....maybe as a middle name.
Anyway things are going great in that dept now. I just need to stop feeling guilty over the fact that I don't have a job yet. I can't ask for housework help (because I'm fucking exhausted for some reason) until that guilt is gone. :(
Oh and we still haven't told any of our family. I wrote the following letter to my mom in some GC complaint thread the other day:

Dear Mother (and some other family members),
Thanks so much for telling me my miscarriage was a good thing and that I am not ready to have a child. Thanks for deciding for me when I should have children. Thanks for expecting me to put it off until it is no longer an option, in hopes that there will ever be a "better time". Thanks for making me scared as hell to actually tell you.
Although I know you'll love and help me no matter what, I still can't stand the thought. I am not looking forward to telling you something that is supposed to be happy news (especially at my age) and watching your face fall and hearing the disappointment in your voice.
Love Jenn

Dan's dad is about the only one i am looking forward to telling. I don't think the rest of them will be very happy at all. *sigh*
I'm also very very scared that I will have another miscarriage. I keep thinking I'm not even pregnant anymore and waiting for the blood to flow. I can't wait until I'm in a safer place (2nd trimester) and can stop obsessing about it so much.

Must be Asian

2007-01-16T14:12:00.000-04:00

I had a dream the other night. If babies can dream I will blame this one on the baby. Only half a brain could come up with something like this.
I'm at a bar.
Dan is talking all night to some other girl.
I'm pissed and trying to ignore him, and pretend like I don't give a shit about him, in hopes that it will get his attention, and he will come running back. He doesn't.
I'm about to go over into the other section of the bar to tell him off when a guy stops me in the doorway.
"What" I say to him rudely.
"Must be Asian" he says back and points out to the dance floor.
The room was filled with asian people ripping up the dance floor. Everyone else was in the room I was in.
I looked back at him and said "What?" in that laughing voice I do sometimes.
He just shrugged.
I looked out on the dance floor again and there was everyone dancing and I suddenly noticed the music and the all asian, all girl band. They were singing a song and the chorus was "Must be asian".
I stared in disbelief for a while and after the song was over the singer (who was standing in the middle of the dance floor with a microphone), winked at me.
I got the feeling this was a regular event at this bar and people just knew to leave the room, if you weren't asian, when this song started.
I woke up laughing. Then I realized this song/scene was in another dream I had and I was the guy (girl) in the doorway stopping people who didn't know any better from going onto the dance floor.
I think its going to be the next Go Banana! song.

Planning and Recording

2007-01-09T17:26:00.000-04:00

I bought a pregnancy diary/planner today. I've been filling it out but keep having to stop because there are questions I cannot answer. Questions like:
"OUR thoughts about becoming pregnant"
As far as I can tell Dan has no thoughts. I have lots of thoughts and can put them, but in order to be honest I keep having to write things like, "scared because Dan has no thoughts and won't talk about it".
Why would I want to look back on that, why would I want my kid to read that. But why would I want to fill the thing full of lies.
I kind of wish he would let me in on what he thinks so that I can get on with what I need to do. I mean if he cares then fucking say it and act interested. If he doesn't then fucking say it so I can figure out what my solution is (leave and do it alone I guess because I want this and I won't have an abortion just because he doesn't).
I guess I just kind of feel like this baby popped out of thin air and has nothing at all to do with him. Like its only mine.
I know the decision is totally mine to make and all that other garbage that comes along with being pro choice but fuck a little input can be nice ya know?

About You....

2007-01-08T13:24:00.000-04:00

I haven't even told my brother,
I just finished telling my mother,
she took it, Ok.
I always wondered what they'd do,
when I told them about you.
-Eric's Trip

So I realized that the heavy drinking wasn't for the first month of the baby's life but could have only been for about two weeks. According to all the books I read this isn't really that big of a deal. It did say that fasting is a big deal though. I'm glad I at least drank juice. I'm going to eat as best as I can from now on. I think it will be ok.
I also calculated an expected date of birth and its so close to my own birthday its scary. I hope this baby isn't too much like me. I know I'm not a horrible person but I do have some things I would hate to carry on, like the depression. The inability to not let every little thing rip my heart from my chest. I hope it has the ability to ignore how fucking shitty people are...at least a litttle.
All I know is I want this and I've been waiting for this forever and I don't want to wait anymore. There is no perfect time and I have to stop waiting for it. If I have to do it alone I will. I've never really planned that anyone would be with me when it happened anyway. I guess I never really trusted anyone that much. I always knew they would never care like I did. I thought they would care a little though.
I haven't told my mother...that was just something I am anticipating...in all honesty I would tell my brother first. Last time I had a miscarriage my mom told me it was a blessing and that I didn't really want it anyway. I never had the chance to think about it last time. It was gone before I knew it was there.

This is what I have always wanted....

2007-01-08T13:21:00.000-04:00

and I'm not going to deny myself any longer.

To Zion - Lauryn Hill

Unsure of what the balance held
I touched my belly overwhelmed
By what I had been chosen to perform
But then an angel came one day
Told me to kneel down and pray
For unto me a man child would be born
Woe this crazy circumstance
I knew his life deserved a chance
But everybody told me to be smart
Look at your career they said,
Lauryn, baby use your head 
But instead I chose to use my heart

Now the joy of my world is in Zion
Now the joy of my world is in Zion

How beautiful if nothing more
Than to wait at Zion's door
I've never been in love like this before
Now let me pray to keep you from
The perils that will surely come
See life for you my prince has just begun
And I thank you for choosing me
To come through unto life to be
A beautiful reflection of his grace
For I know that a gift so great
Is only one God could create
And I'm reminded every time I see your face

That the joy of my world is in Zion
Now the joy of my world is in Zion
Now the joy of my world is in Zion
Now the joy of my world is in Zion

Marching, marching, marching to Zion
Marching, marching
Marching, marching, marching to Zion
Beautiful, beautiful Zion

Brick (but switch genders, situation and endings)

2007-01-06T12:29:00.000-04:00

Why having a baby would be a good thing:
I've been preparing for this basically my whole life and most of my depression stems from the fact that I can't seem to grow up (lack of money, stable relationship with helpful boyfriend who doesn't view me as a maid...things like that)
I'm approaching 30. If I'm going to start a family, now would be the time.
Dan's Dad seemed excited by the last scare.
My grandmother needs to hold one of her great grandchildren before she dies and it doesn't look like my cousin is going to visit her anytime soon.

Why it would be a bad thing:
I don't want to have to watch my child hurt because people fucking suck
1 month of heavy drinking over the holidays plus fetus do not equal good times.
1/2 a month of taking my "jenn's a psycho" medication plus time for it to leave my system does not equal good times.
zero dollars. Poor, can barely afford cat food.
I'm unsure about my relationship a lot lately.
I don't want to pass my depression on to my child and have to watch them suffer with something that sucks so fucking bad. That would be unbearable.
My mom has basically said she is dead against me having a kid right now.
Dan doesn't seem to care either way.
(Me: "So the bleeding stopped..."
Dan: "What does that mean."
Me: "I don't know"
dan: *goes back to playing video game*
Me: *goes back to staring at the ceiling*
Dan: "blah blah blah some organ blah blah blah"
Me: *prays bleeding starts again*)

YEAH!

2007-01-05T12:06:00.000-04:00

Another miscarriage is in the works!
Its a fun time of death discharge and cramps galore.
But I will not miss hospital grade tonight. No I will not.

His Two Faces

2007-01-04T18:15:00.000-04:00

I suppose I'm moving back to the other side now.

I met a girl and we ran away
I swore I'd make her happy every day
And how I made her cry
Two faces have I

Sometimes mister I feel sunny and wild
Lord I love to see my baby smile
Then dark clouds come rolling by
Two faces have I

One that laughs one that cries
One says hello one says goodbye
One does things I don't understand
Makes me feel like half a man

At night I get down on my knees and pray
Our love will make that other man go away
But he'll never say goodbye
Two faces have I

Last night as I kissed you 'neath the willow tree
He swore he'd take your love away from me
He said our life was just a lie
And two faces have I
Well go ahead and let him try
-Bruce Springsteen

& I live in a town where the boys amputate their <3's

2006-12-11T12:33:00.000-04:00

I will never fully trust you ever again. I fully trusted you. You are the only one I did and its because you felt the same way as I did about certain situations. But now I realize you just felt that way in reference to me and not yourself. Now I will never fully trust you again. Not just cheating trust. I will never trust that you are who you say you are. Never trust that you won't leave me pregnant. Never trust that you don't say things about me behind my back. Never trust that you won't take advantage of me in any way. Never trust that you find me attractive or actually want to have sex with me for any reason other than to just get off. Never trust that you will stop when I ask you to. Never trust that you will take care of me. Never fully trust anything. You may think that hurts you a lot to hear but it hurts me a lot more to know thats gone. It hurts that I allowed myself to feel that complete trust. The trust I never allowed myself to feel because I didn't feel protected enough. I hate you for it. I hate myself as well for being so fucking stupid.

Some of the things you said were more than friendly.
They were date like. Intimate.
You lied completely.
You spent our whole relationship getting pissed at me for talking to Terrance, even after you said you wouldn't, you just pretended not to care but gave me a bunch of attitude. The whole time knowing what you were doing...which was way worse. I never hid a single fucking sentence from you. You hid a fucking date. I was the one that constantly walked around feeling guilty while you don't even think you did anything wrong. Then when I question you about it you pretend that you don't know anyone by that name. Then you pretend that you don't remember talking to her. Thats fucking bullshit and don't tell me it isn't. You sat there and lied to me and pretended that you didn't know what I was talking about. Then you tried to brush me off by turning on the tv. WTF?
This is the shit that lets me know you don't give a fuck. Everytime I am hurting I have to come right out and say it and tell you simple fucking things. Who the fuck turns on the TV unless they are trying to prove to you they don't care. Thats the shit you do to me all the time. You are always "turning on the tv". Doing things in the middle of me trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Acting like nothing big happened even though I am sitting there puking up my fucking heart.
I can't even count the number of times these last few months when I would tell you how I felt unattractive and fat and you wouldn't even give me the kindness of a pity compliment. You just sit there silently nodding your head ... basically agreeing with me that I'm fat and unattractive. Do you care that little? I have basically fucking begged you for compliments the last few times only to be left standing there like an idiot. Then I turn away and go cry and you don't even fucking know because you don't fucking care. You never compliment me, not just for looks but for anything.
You know that feeling you get when I tell you I really like a part of one of your songs or that I think your hair looks cute that day. Yeah thats a nice feeling and I never get to feel it. You never tell me I look nice or compliment me in any way. You never compliment anything I do. Not even the things I do for you. All you have to fucking do is take out the garbage and half the time I fucking help you with it and thank you for doing it. I clean the whole fucking house and get nothing. Not even a thanks. Not even the decency of picking up after yourself every now and again. I felt like a fucking oger when Jason moved the amp out of my way the other night. He moved it because you wouldn't. You told me to wait until later. I appreciated him moving it but I felt like he thought I was mad because everyone was there with their gear. It wasn't that at all. It was that the gear is always everywhere, your room is a fucking tornado. Everytime I have energy to do anything I have to use it cleaning instead of setting up my own room or doing any knitting or sewing.
There is so much shit lately that makes me feel taken advantage of...and this just added on to it. This just let me know that absolutely nothing about this relationship is any different than any other I have had. Its just as toxic and I will live the rest of my life hearing about how it is going to change, over and over, until finally you break up with me because I let you walk all over me for years, just like everyone else. That sucks. But I will let it happen because I am just that fucking stupid.

So all my lovin' goes
under the fog, fog, fog
and I believed them all
well I'm just a poor little baby
'cause well I believed them all
I wish I could buy back
the woman you stole
-YYY

Star Bellied Boy

2006-12-11T09:47:00.001-04:00

It was stupid of me to assume you were different. I can't believe I allowed this to happen again. How many times before I finally learn.

He said he wanted to
Just touch you
He said he wanted to
Just touch you
Star bellied boy
Different from the rest
Your sooo different from the rest
Prove your different from the rest
Your no fuckin different from the rest
(I only wanted to believe we are all free)
And then he said why wont you fuck me
And then he said do me do me do me
And then he said Ill be your best friend
And then I said.............
Why
Do
I
Cry
Every
Time
That
I
Cum?
I cant, I cant, I cant, I cant cum
I cant, I cant, I cant, I cant cum
I cant, I cant, I cant, I cant cum
I cant, I cant, I cant, I cant cum
Why?
- Bikini Kill

Head vs. Heart

2006-11-27T15:08:00.000-04:00

I have really been wanting to write something lately but it’s like my brain is turned off.
I was watching Six Feet Under last night and it was the episode where Billy stops taking his medication because he is not inspired while he is on it. He is too stable. That’s how I feel. There is still all this intensity bubbling down in there but it’s got a cover on it. I can no longer get it out. The medication makes it so I can get out of bed in the morning. It takes away most of my extreme highs and lows. It makes it so I am able to have other thoughts than death.
But it also takes away everything else. It makes me feel dead. I have noticed I drink a lot more when I am on it, probably so that I can feel something other than the one feeling it allows me to have. It kills my sex drive, which is another reason I have been drinking more. I know that if I drink I will feel like having sex. I feel guilty for not giving it to him enough. I know I shouldn't and I know he will love me anyway but...it’s still hard.
I'm also so fucking sick of gaining weight. I'm up to like 155 now. This happened last time as well. I weighed 125, I was happy with my weight, I felt comfortable. Then I started taking this medication and gained a lot of weight. As soon as I stopped taking it I went back down to 125. No other changes in my lifestyle except the medication. Now I have been taking it again and the same thing is happening, how much weight can I gain? It’s starting to get to the point where the weight is counteracting the pills because now I'm depressed about being chubby.
Then there is the question of "do I take this my whole life?” Every time I go off it I get all fucked up and try to kill myself. I do everything in my power to fuck up my life. I hurt everyone I love and drive them away by hurting myself. Can I take this if I get pregnant? Will I be able to take it and breastfeed? Will the post partum depression be worse because I am not taking it?
I don't want to have all the thoughts I have, I don't want to hurt people or myself. But I want to fucking feel something. I want to feel something intense again. I can't even really cry anymore. NO matter how fucking sad something is. My eyes well up and then that’s it, it turns itself off.
I haven't knit, sewn, written or anything because I am not inspired to do anything. I can no longer become obsessed with anything until I finish it.
I want to try going off for a while but I'm scared of what will happen. I don't even know how crazy I am being, when I am off them. I'll do something really fucked up and think it’s totally normal. Like I'll get in a huge fight with Dan and think it’s his entire fault. But when I go on my medication I look back and realize that it’s just the paranoia from my sickness that caused the fight in the first place. None of the shit I thought was going on really was. I don't want to put him through that.
I also don't want to go through withdrawals. The spins, the sick stomach, the intensity that builds and builds like a bad acid trip.
But FUCK I am sick of feeling the same feeling. I want to feel my own feelings again.

Apparently...

2006-11-06T17:43:00.000-04:00

I'm not over this miscarriage thing yet.
hmmm. I wonder if its bothering me because there is nothing else in my life to be upset about....or if I'm actually bothered by it. You never know with me.
Awful close...but thats not why, I'm so hard done by. ;)

This song has been stuck in my head all day

2006-11-04T12:57:00.000-04:00

It's my favorite Radiohead song. I've never really figured out the lyrics. There are two versions I have found on the internet.

Been thinking about you, your records are here (or maybe its "a hit"),
your eyes are on my wall, your teeth are over there.
But I'm still no-one, and you're my (now? or not?) a star,
what do you care?

Been thinking about you, and there's no rest,
Should (shit?) I still love you, still see you in bed.
But I'm playing with myself, and what do you care
when the other men are far, far better.

All the things you've got,
all the things you need,
who (I?) bought you cigarettes,
Who (and?) bribed the company to come and see you honey?

I've been thinking about you, so how can you sleep?
These people aren't your friends, they're paid to kiss your feet.
They don't know what I know and why should you care
when I'm not there.

Been thinking about you, and there's no rest,
should I still love you, still see you in bed.
But I'm playing with myself, what do you care,
when I'm not there.

All the things you've got,
she'll never need,
all the things you've got.
I've bled and I bleed to please you.
(I'm planning to please you, please you?)

Been thinking about you.

Yeah its an awesome song no matter what lyrics are the correct ones. I prefer the last line to be what I always thought it was growing up though.
"I'm planning to bleed to please you"
Suicide is so romantic. ;)

That reminds me ... I wonder when the movie "Wristcutters: a love story" is coming out. Its the only movie I've been interested in for a long time.

Constant Self/World Improvement for Unborn Children

2006-10-16T12:29:00.000-03:00

I wrote this for a baby
who has yet to be born
I hope that womb's not too warm
cause it's cold out here
and it'll be quite a shock
to breathe this air
to discover loss
so I'd like to make some changes
before you arrive
so when your new eyes meet mine
they won't see no lies
just love.

I will be pure,
Like snow- like gold-
-C.O

Amy's got a baby in her stomach,
she took my hand and I felt it kick,
so she's crying and glowing,
she's three months and showing
seeing her now makes me want to live.
N.D

Happiness is....

2006-10-11T10:17:00.000-03:00

finding a video on vegan parenting mixed in with all of your boyfriends other internet links....and knowing you didn't put it there.
Knowing that discussions about children are not just "things to talk about" or something he says to make you happy but actual things that he wants to happen. Knowing that he is interested in the actual parenting part and not just the part where he makes me happy by "lending me his seed".
Today I feel OK.

I can't promise...

2006-10-10T16:43:00.000-03:00

that I'll grow those wings,
or keep this tarnished halo shined.
But I'll never betray your trust,
angel mine.