2004-11-21 - 2:46 p.m.
I have been making my frazzle-frazzle-frazzle noises all weekend, apologiesises. If you could see my hair you'd understand. I do not wander in the realm of sane, I just watched four hours of crime tv shows all in a row for crying out loud!
From that I have learned that the nun did it unintentionally and mothers are bitches and brainwashing cults are greedy, whodathunkit.
I have also learned a bit about me. Not from the crime shows though obviously, there's only so much you can learn from pointed remarks crime scene investigators make before ad breaks.
Um. Like some freaky little wildflower I can turn THE most spectacular shade of green you could ever imagine, but you have to be watching very very closely.
As someone recently brought to my attention, I really realised that the environment I physically live in is not particularly conducive to me.
I'm not entirely sure what to do with this knowledge. Though of course becoming a high class hooker who can afford a spacious penthouse for all her nearest and dearest will always be the dream.
I can't stay here but I can't leave. My brain is tumbling this over and over like some existential washing machine.
God, there should be more cartoons about existential washing machines.
Um. I accidentally just poked a bruise that is forming on my arm. I wish it would turn a fantastic purple so that someone who loves me could become enraged upon seeing it and ask me what happened so I could say with forlorn actual sincerity "I, I walked into a door" because freakinghell I walk into door frames so often someone should be coming down on them for leaving marks on me.
I really do believe that my happiness and the size of my thighs have an inverse relationship thing happening. I think that it's coming time to swing my bad-food habits back into the other direction, which I know many people find offensive, which I find blatently and patently ridiculous. If you can silently condone overeating then you have no right to words on undereating. It's all malnutrition and if you can accept one then live with the other.
And if nothing else, I have a right to deciding what I swallow.
Ah, if I have to bring it down to that, you know I'm fucked. Although you were probably aware of this already. My head's a sewer tonight. But it doesn't really matter. Some things really matter and this doesn't. Just because some things can consume you, doesn't mean they're worthy, and you can flick them away with that thought.
Of course that isn't true of everything. Some things you actively allow to consume you; even though it eats you up there's something joyous in it. You'd lay everything down for it, if it asked. Like some little sacrificial lamb towards a hungry meatloving family.
Oh, bite me.
From that I have learned that the nun did it unintentionally and mothers are bitches and brainwashing cults are greedy, whodathunkit.
I have also learned a bit about me. Not from the crime shows though obviously, there's only so much you can learn from pointed remarks crime scene investigators make before ad breaks.
Um. Like some freaky little wildflower I can turn THE most spectacular shade of green you could ever imagine, but you have to be watching very very closely.
As someone recently brought to my attention, I really realised that the environment I physically live in is not particularly conducive to me.
I'm not entirely sure what to do with this knowledge. Though of course becoming a high class hooker who can afford a spacious penthouse for all her nearest and dearest will always be the dream.
I can't stay here but I can't leave. My brain is tumbling this over and over like some existential washing machine.
God, there should be more cartoons about existential washing machines.
Um. I accidentally just poked a bruise that is forming on my arm. I wish it would turn a fantastic purple so that someone who loves me could become enraged upon seeing it and ask me what happened so I could say with forlorn actual sincerity "I, I walked into a door" because freakinghell I walk into door frames so often someone should be coming down on them for leaving marks on me.
I really do believe that my happiness and the size of my thighs have an inverse relationship thing happening. I think that it's coming time to swing my bad-food habits back into the other direction, which I know many people find offensive, which I find blatently and patently ridiculous. If you can silently condone overeating then you have no right to words on undereating. It's all malnutrition and if you can accept one then live with the other.
And if nothing else, I have a right to deciding what I swallow.
Ah, if I have to bring it down to that, you know I'm fucked. Although you were probably aware of this already. My head's a sewer tonight. But it doesn't really matter. Some things really matter and this doesn't. Just because some things can consume you, doesn't mean they're worthy, and you can flick them away with that thought.
Of course that isn't true of everything. Some things you actively allow to consume you; even though it eats you up there's something joyous in it. You'd lay everything down for it, if it asked. Like some little sacrificial lamb towards a hungry meatloving family.
Oh, bite me.
