Shut up and don't text him

Just don't do it. Why do you want to feel like an asshole? You are really good at that already. If he wanted to talk to you he would.

Labored conversation trying to hurry up and move passed something isn't going to help. It's only going to make it worse. One more day until I can get this awkward out.

In my head, and in knowing him, it could be a hug or a high five when we see each other face to face. I feel like the hug could be dangerous. Over exposing beaten down feelings.

Like  I want to ask him what's he's doing and maybe get it out of the way before work. I know he would be polite. Regardless. But I need firm established boundaries as a habitual line stepper.

I think he thinks I'm nervous about the job. Not at all, I'm sure that will be no problem and I actually am looking forward to doing something different again.

It's him that is terrifying. Seeing his face for the first time after all the hurt we both displayed. After all the laughter. All the adventures. All the shenanigans. I couldn't even bring myself to go disc golfing after too afraid I would run into him.

His looks etched into my skin and I had seen them all. So when he first looks at me, and he will try to suck it up and be the bigger person, and he is, there will be a hidden look of disappointment underneath his false smile.

I have seen that look too many times before. He has a lot of very good ones too. I'm equally afraid with measure to be caught in those. To not be who I was before when he was attracted to me. Maybe more damaged now. Not being nearly as hot. What if I get a look of disgust? What if he finds me completely repulsive and then I have to go back and wonder why the universe has him in my path again...

More philosophical debates with myself. Years of restructuring. I'm such a hot mess of a person.

The faces I make

I've had an hour of sleep. A lifetime to be a weirdo. Time to tweak out on our adderall because we can't function without it and we're on something like I dunno 4 hours of sleep in the last 72?

My pupils are dilated.

I feel like a retard for yesterday. I really do wish sometimes I could remember what it felt like to be normal.

Although in blogging yesterday I did come to a comparison about Ed/Tom. Very much both the qualities of men I enjoy.

Maybe that's why the Tom thing bothered me so much. I know what it's like to be with  an older man who relishes in life and the same things you do while still being starkly different.

The fineness. The contrast. The imagination. It's limitless. It's bold. 

I need m brain to think of other things today. I need my brain to not sit here and make funny faces at myself in my own reflection to detour from my outline. I need my brain to not make up entire conversations between my cats for them. Although, it is an intriguing part of my day. Seriously.

I have a cat that I got as a kitten, she was a single barn cat some painters found and brought into my job at the time looking for supplies for her. I took her sight unseen. Thought she was a boy and named her Neptune. Funny enough after I brought her home and then we thought she was a girl, she was feral, and not nice unless you were going to feed or hold her, so we changed her name to Melissa. But then and I'm not sure why or how we thought she was a boy again and it went back to Neptune. Didn't ever pay enough attention until two years later she was knocked up.

I have another cat named Herman. Herman was part of a whole litter I ended up with from a pregnant Momma, Now Benga's cat KitKAt. She had five babies, I was already hand feeding 5 other's from two different litters. Then her entire litter ended up with ring worm.The vet tried to convince me to put them down. Telling me shelters wouldn't take them and it's could take forever to get rid of. And it did, I had to buy special shampoo and give them bathes twice a day, and bleach everything in our house all the time. Herman was the first born from his mom and the second I looked at him he looked like a nerd named Herman. At the height of his infection even my Nana was trying to talk me into maybe putting him down. Giant bald spots hiding, rubbed in creams and meds all the time.

I couldn't do it. I eventually found an oral medicine, it cleared up and he was the last one left out of his litter. I had grown pretty attached to the fool.

So Neptune is an indoor/outdoor cat. Everyone is fixed. Herman is strictly inside. Neptune comes in the house to eat and he stalks her. Not hissing or being a jerk, but like he maybe genuinely is never going to give up trying to be her friend no matter how much she dislikes him. And she does dislike him. She hisses and wants to be left alone.

We have a 3 tier glass entertainment stand. She's behind the TV, and he just jumps up on the second shelf right below her, watching her get mad... remaining calm the whole time. I think he knows that hes antagonistic. It's hilarious. Half my day is spent yelling Herman!!! leave her alone!! stop being a jerk! She does not want to be your friend! Stop Following Her!

So as I have no life now, I often narrate the interweaving lives of my cats. As I wrote that I realized I am a crazy cat lady.

This is what I've amounted too. Shit. If I don't hoard them does that take away part of the crazy aspect? I think it should. Well maintained cats. Spoiled. Shifty personalities, the dog gets along with them all.


Officially blogging about my pet life.. This is what kills my time. conversations with myself between a human and a screen and fake conversations and parodies of pets.

And we're all just floating around on a dying rock in the middle of space (not actually the middle though, just metaphorically) in an endless sea of self devotion and ego.

That's the human experience

. 

Where's my ambition? Seriously I think I lost it in the war...

No real writing done today. Still sick. Still Insomnia. I did manage 3 hours in last night so that was nice. I need to go back to the hospital. I start new job on Thursday... should probably be able to breathe to do that.

Thanks to old lover. I'm most certain he would like me to pay him the thousands of doll hairs I owe him, and rightfully so... I mean work/hard work has never scared me.

But I know how different I am now. I know that I've basically been a life hermit for years and I've been pulling my face skin down, pulling the bottoms of my eyes half way down my face, all day trying to get comfortable with the thought of seeing him. I'm such a freak of a human being now.

First of all... years to suck it up and just say I'm sorry. Clearly I have pride issues. That was all I thought it was going to entail. But then he throws out a job offer, making decent money and  not serving people ranch. Possibly get a little manual labor in? Its like getting paid to exercise which is the only way I may do it. But I need to none the less. And it does seem like a cool job anyway. I am a jack of all trades. It's been time for the switch up.

I tried to talk to him a bunch today. I feel like a super creep about it now. I mean I always feel like a fucking creep anyway, but extra more so today. My biggest life problem is I don't talk to other adults much anymore so I don't actually know when to shut the fuck up when I do. Anxiety my best friend everyone. Obsessively think about that.

I almost text him grim statistics. I didn't. I don't think the fact I restrained myself from doing so should be a point of pride for me either? He says it will all be fine. I assured him, after prying into his private life....( fuck me right?) .. and not even casually.. just with a hey, so I know its not any of my business, and I really don't have the right to ask... but are you seeing anyone....

Then the awkward super awkward comes out... Just trying to mentally prepare myself for any scenario... Admitting that through text. Hey glad you're totally cool with all of this, but me... I'm panicking. Seriously... on a one to ten freak out scale ten being the most freaked out... like 100.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't my brain function like regular yo?

I tried to ask if he was going in the same time as me, I was going to bring him breakfast or coffee as a thank you, I think I already spent way too much time making it super odd. I didn't tell him why I was asking and he told me he was going to bed ... bleak. 😖

I wish I had the strength to smash my own face in with a brick right now. I don't know why I cant form real people sentences and thoughts? Why have I alluded this mess for so long and now with a heightened sense of awareness and I overly accosting it?

You know Brain, just shut up. Just shut up brain. He just wants his money back. If I keep it at that than my brain won't try to over produce simulations of possible outcomes of this.

I was insecure before when we dated. His ex wife was hot, I thought I was regular back then. I'm now three years hiding in my house, giving up my cardio sex routine and living like a nerd.

My sexual exploits stay in my head now. Or at least kinda, they stay here on the blog too, but they are fake scenarios made up in my head. I'm sooooo not his type anymore. I'm going to be nervous for the next two days about this.

Telling myself not to text him. Not to keep making a bigger ass out of myself. Stop pulling on your eyelid skin Melissa.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy that he's this nice? Seriously? Oh you apologized t me, throw out my name and get this job setting up areas making nearly $20 an hour..

He's so damn different than anyone.... he's smart, and eccentric, and talented, and funny, and a gentleman, and kind, and he reads... I always liked that he was smart.

My brain needs to not go there. Like stop brain. Please. Stop Brain.

We are so different in so many ways too. He's politically the opposite. Which is extreme for me. Hardcore. He supports trump and his last name alone should be why he doesn't but he does. He's basically a carnivore. Which is odd because he loves nature and animals.

I hate my brain in already attempting to daydream. I wanted to ask how his sister was. I'm sure his family hates me. God it was ugly when we split.

I feel like the incredibly shrinking woman thinking about all of this. So small. Like his kindness should be self serving, and even though that's what my brain wants me to believe, I know that's not who he is. I know he's both tactical and sensitive.

No day dreams. No day dreams. No more messing shit up Melissa. You said you wanted time with you. You basically left Neal and Him, moved to Flint in the middle of a water crisis, busted your ass for months to get out, to move back to Toledo, and then have Benga come along, and give so much of you this shell of a person is all you have left. You got nothing Kid. Nothing!

Melissa, you have philosophical debates with yourself. You sometimes/ most of the time don't even get out of your pajamas. The highlight of your year was going off on two different bosses because you were tired of being a doormat. You jumped out of a plane. You want to see the world. You're writing again. While financially this is a great opportunity,  don't fuck it up by falling in love. You just lost everything because you fell in love. You still have to get shit back before you can lose it again. You haven't recovered those losses. Have yet to recoup.

He doesn't want to work with you because he wants to fall madly in love.

Stop thinking about kissing him now.
Stop it Melissa.
Fuck Brain come on.

You know he doesn't want the same things as you. Yes he has adventure in his heart, he doesn't ever want to be married again. Something he made very clear before. OMG stop you're that far ahead and you haven't looked at him yet. It's crazy. Stop. He's not freaking out. He's not worried. He likely thinks you're fucking mental already.

Dated off and on for two years, and now he knows I'm crazy??.. go fucking figure. The things you can disguise in the midst of desire. I hate that I'm such a freak.

Fuck. 

My plagues

So as adults we often fuck up. For me maybe more so than most, I was doomed born into chaos.

I while writing for the book yesterday rehashed a lot of old relationships. Most I have with what I think of as a healthy mentality now.

One has continued to haunt me some. Not in a way where I think I could ever easily describe in words the emotions I feel. I did have a lot of love for him. Confused already being in another nonexclusive relationship with Fake Cancer.

This guy always treated me like a fucking princess. I had never in my life been treated the way he did. Benga provided, I say that because he worked damn hard, but our life was always confusing too. It wasn't confusing in the same way with Ed.

Ed wanted to go out with me, he showed me off, he made sure I had fun. And more than that he fucking terrified me. I'd like to think we broke up twice never have officially being together. They were still break ups.

The way we left things the last time was ugly. Human ugly. Faulted and gross. I was so angry with him for doing what he did that night. The way he treated me. And the more time went on, the more I hated myself for the way I treated him.

He laid in bed one night and looked at me and told me he could love me, if I wanted him to, he tried to, the older I get I know that. We were both messes. I was so used to not being loved, so used to just reacting and not looking to settle down waiting on fake cancer. I was having the time of my life with Ed. He made me happy. He treated my fucked up family and all my friends with extreme kindness. He had a huge heart. Always a show boater. But I kept looking passed him thinking I was waiting on Neal.

When I say we left things a mess, I mean he embarrassed me for the second time in front of my family and friends drunk and disrespected me so hard that I blocked him for years.

But all these years, I still think about him from time to time. So I muster up the courage last night to apologize, I should say before he did this for the second time, (which were never just small inconveniences but monstrosities of events unfolding) a week before I got myself in trouble and lost about $2,500 of his money after he just lent me hundreds of dollars to fix my car. And me trying to hurry up and pay him back was how I ended up with a gun pointed at my head stupidly.

I tell him I'm sure he hates me, and I don't blame him at all, but for the part of my story he is, I'm grateful because I stopped doing dumb ass shit. And that I hope he's well, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I was always damaged, even now always wondering if I'm too damaged to love.

I didn't think he would read it. I waited over an hour checking periodically. He did. He wrote back.

He apologized to me for the things he put me through. He was falling very much in love with me and having just gone through his divorce, it fucked him up equally. That he thinks about me from time to time too.

I'm not near as hot as I used to be. I don't even know if we could ever go there again anyways. I'm still a hot mess putting myself together, he told me he basically is too, but maintaining.

The thing that has always fucked my head up about him is this. Both times in my life, right before we started dating, I asked the universe to give me love. I was ready for it. To take me seriously. I wasn't expecting him. And after his first jealous drunk fuck up meeting my family we didn't speak for a year. And I spoke with the heavens and asked again, within a week I randomly run into him at a gas station.

I'm not saying he's my soul mate. I'm not saying we're meant to be together. I'm saying for years, I know that I did this man wrong and he and who he was in my life has helped immensely shape the person I am today. That I know he was good to me, and happiness, more so than love, scares me.

I can deal with shit. I can bitch and moan, and glide through it, but happiness, real happiness always seems so far up on the ladder that if I ever really climb that high, I'm afraid that it will be too far down that I won't be able to get up again.

I'm not afraid of love. Love is flawed and gross, and dangerous, and full of misfortune. But happiness, I don't know what that is. That's my unicorn in life.

I'm not sure if Ed is my unicorn. I'm sure he will always terrify me in that way..

But for now, I'm grateful I was able to say I'm sorry, and that after all this time, I know he's good. He deserved at the very least after everything he did for me to know that. That I admit I fucked up.

To know he did make me feel good.He always made me feel beautiful. Likely why I was frightened by him.

Productivity .... Is hard with ADHD

Even sick I finished two chapters yesterday. That is hella good. I did do a chapter today. I called off work again. I may even need to go back to the hospital. I may not even have a job anymore. I'm nearly certain that's the case.

Can't help I can't breathe. But I can sit down in front of the laptop and do some writing. My article is still being featured. Kind a huge deal considering most of the features are illustrations and art related. The fact my writing made it makes me feel capable.

I started another chapter today. A second one because I did write the chapter "The Clusterfuck of a Nymphomaniac" and then to make sense out of it it made sense to do the Neal chapter next. He was referred to ask Fake cancer so many times during my freedom of oppression vaginal rage that it made sense he was the next chapter. Explaining my damages. Explaining how after everything I was able to give it all up. Put the sex addict in me away and try to attempt to live a normal life. Why I had to after his extreme narcissistic traits.

Things I'm still healing from. Not wanting to be the monster he is to the rest of the world. I have two pages done. Not even the tip of the iceberg. And I'm emotionally drained form it. I don't think I could have the chapter missing. It is about me, my life, and for three terribly long drawn out years and escapades of me bending over backwards it happened.

As much as he would be the person I would eternal sunshine out of my mind, It's not possible and pieces of my story make zero sense without this chapter. So while I spent the day painstakingly going through a ton of other bitter romances, and at some times... arousing myself rehashing my sexual escapades, I got 13 pages of chapter 3 done.

I talked to my friend Sarah who is published through Random House, and got some advice from her. I also think since my article is a feature for a book picked up by Harper Design, I can stick to my timeline. My outline, and I can do this. I am capable. I am able. I am fucked up and I believe being honest about it other people will feel slightly better about being fucked up too.

It's the ugly truth. The real crappy things I've done and lied about. The drugs, the sex, the depths. The abuse, the wasting of myself. My hopes my dreams.

He even now, looking back at all the things I've done in my life and the sorted oddness they have came with, he is the most exhausting. I really do believe he is evil. To this day. Evil.

I think I may have to go back and finish his chapter at the end. To not suck me dry from the rest of the book.

It was ugly. More than broken just harsh. A story needed to be told for anyone else living though the same situation. So they know those chains are breakable.

Nothing to masturbate with that material.

Well that's fucking interesting

You know I haven't talked about the whole Tom situation in a while. 1) I'm trying to move passed this. 2) Seemed in general to be an all around fucked up situation, only his brother was really nice (Thanks Joe), but again he didn't ask for any of this situation anymore than I did. 3) I don't personally want to be intrinsically stuck in this thoughts of infatuation. While he is an incredibly sexy older man, he would never be with me. He has a whole life. I get it. I have a whole life too.

Me being me though....... judge me if you want... have him blocked on instagram. I sometimes unblock him and just see what hes doing. Maybe once a week or so. I didn't say I was all the way over it, I said I'm trying to move passed it, he is nice to look at?. None the less, regardless of blocked or not when I swipe to my messages, our old ones would still pop up. No big deal just kinda used to seeing them there. And frankly I personally am glad you're able to delete things because I'm pretty sure I got to delete my drunk messages before he read them. Felt like an asshole for sending them anyways.. but thankful none the less.

I swipe to send someone a message today and they were gone. Completely. Which is really weird because I'm almost certain they were just there. Seriously..... Like yesterday or the day before...

I've come to this conclusion....

If you actually read my blog Mr. Tom, while I find you very attractive and think we have a million things in common, then if you read my blog yesterday saying I was reading the code and IP addresses of people looking at my page.... And then you got scared.... thinking I would know you were reading my blog.... 1) I already assumed you did, Because I had you blocked I assumed you were the person looking from the broken instagram link... 2) I wasn't  actually looking for you 3) I was more concerned with my crazy stalker whom started the now very odd (non)relationship between us. 4) The general vicinity of an IP address does nothing for me. And I would hope as a celebrity you would have a two part authorization code for any and everything you do.  4) Did you get me kicked off twitter for my Red Fox joke? Seriously it's a funny joke... your wife is the most expensive whore you'll ever own.

I just got on twitter... like really?

I think if I wanted anything from you I would of already tried to get it. Common sense says that alone.

Also.. hot piercer chic's girlfriend added me on instagram today. That was weird. Seriously people...


Just because I find someone attractive does not mean I have a fucking motive. People can just be attractive people. I'm just an awkward nerd of a girl. I don't have a mean bone in my body... that's a lie, I do, but you have to seriously warrant me being mean to and that takes a hell of a lot, and I would still feel bad afterwards, and say I'm sorry.

I want everyone to be happy and successful. People need more of that in life. People need happy.

I'm sick, I want some vegan chicken noodle soup. I went to the hospital today. I have bronchitis... fucking fun. And miserable....

I wonder who people really think  I am. I'm a recovering nymphomaniac with zero social life. None. My sexual fantasies, while in plenty, are the extent of my life... that and writing. And I'm ridiculously shy in real life. I am limited to 3 word vocabulary when I see attractive people. I'm like a turtle under attack. Who do you people think I am?

Mr. Green, you are odd, and eccentric, smart, sexy, you like a good drink and vinyl, you appreciate black tshirts and checkered vans, or chucks, and you like to read. You create. You look handsome  in your glasses and frankly we could of been friends in another life. You're the too cool for the cool kids guy. It's why everyone likes you.

I am the socially awkward girl. Eye contact makes me nervous as I think it's intimate. I daydream and like to paint, and write. My head stays in the clouds. I got made fun of at my bus stop everyday and even in high school, by the same guys that hit on me after I got out. I wear black thick framed glasses, and when I do I feel like I'm Clark Kent. Incognito. Small circle. Don't date. I work with kids because I'm jealous they live their lives with no fear. They dance like no one is watching.

Hot piercer chic and her girlfriend, I'm glad you two are in love. I was only half serious about my throuple joke. As I wrote that sentence I wondered how much slang I have actually added to my laptop. Jess is hot. You're a very lucky lady. I live by girl code. Big girl code rule is you don't get involved in someone else's relationship. What someone will do to be with you is what they will do when they are with you. Cheaters are not my thing. Not that I think she would in the first place. She did tell me she had a girl the first time she met me. But my recovering sex addict brain doesn't listen to me, it has a mind of it's own.... all the fantasies that come out are things I can't control. I can try to shut them up but frankly it's best to let them run their course. We could all be friends. I'm not trying to steal your girl. I promise.


But just for you wondering the tracking stats for blogger.. this is for the most part what they look like. I can separate them by links clicks and so forth but tracking on the internet is common.... They have IP tracking websites. So for everyone reading this... 1) I think I gave myself malware the other day from grabify I don't suggest using that, I did switch to addthis which doesn't actually track your IP addresses but just better stats than blogger because of bot views.

So I'm like sick

Like actually sick. I have this bad habit of pretending I'm not getting sick before I do. Like I can feel it coming and perhaps if I deny it's there it will disappear. I don't get sick that often. It maybe works sometimes? Not this one.

I blame this on the horrible joke I made earlier in my blog. Saying I'd get that chic sick just to make her soup. I swear it was just a joke Universe. And I'm chugging dayquil now. FML. I'm still super geeked about the feature. And with that comes the will to write more. But with the sick to sleep or not to sleep. I'm on a publishing high. I should rest, and eat soup. I have my tea next to me.

I was in the store buying medicine last night and as I'm looking through all the different bottles confusion set in. I was officially that person talking to myself out loud in the isle and then looking around for a more adulter adult. Like I had serious questions in that moment. One's maybe I should of thought of before. How is this medicine going to fix both my runny nose and my stuffy nose. And my bigger question was how was this even possible. To both simultaneously not be able to breathe and be stuffy but being able to run at the same time.

What medicine should I get? And then the fucked up part..... which color of medicine? You ever notice red, the better of the flavor colors is the mildest. I'm sick enough for the blue. And I go liquid because it works faster. So fucking gross. And rather than write from my outline I drafted which has plenty to do, I'm here, contemplating eating food and blogging.

And I'm a horrible sick person. I want to be babied but watch out if you piss me off. I parked right next to the entrance of the store last night, closest one to the meds. I grab a couple boxes of tea, contemplate medicine and colors for about ten minutes, and self check out. Not one person helping me. I go to walk out and they close that entrance. Are you fucking serious? That's when the douche of a dude is walking up as I'm now angry I can't get out and have to walk all the way around and he's shrugging his shoulders and saying... yeah, sorry.

To which I yell out "'I'M FUCKING SICK THAT'S TOP NOTCH CUSTOMER SERVICE THANKS"

I'm an everyday asshole. I was thinking about way to describe this in my writing and I decided the sentence to best encompass me is this. I'm the kind of girl to give the homeless guy on the corner money and then scream profanities at the car ahead of me for not moving fast enough when the light turns green.

And that's me.

You're allowed to chug from the dayquil bottle every two hours right?


Also as if waking up extra sick wasn't enough, I lost one of my fucking plugs. Which I tried to wrap tape around to tighten the other day and it wouldn't go in. They have fucking flares. I can't walk around with one in and one out. And I was instantly reminded of how pissed I get when I lose them and why I stopped wearing them in the first place.

Fuckers

Also... Because it's hilarious.. I got grounded off twitter. Not for calling the president and idiot on a nearly everyday basis... but because I made an old red fox joke saying your wife is the most expensive whore you'll ever own...

I'm not asking you on a date

So I asked the physics guy to hang out... It wasn't a date. I actually was mostly afraid of doing this thing by myself and I needed his brains. And it's something we discussed. So he's in. Let's hope some time next week I'm multidimensional.

While he's hot he'a kinda flaky. Not really my thing. Clearly I'm nowhere near relationship ready anyways. I made sure to specify I'm not asking you on a date...... Good ol grim Melissa... Just trying to transcend space and time and shit..

I did adult things today. Laundry, cleaning, mowing the yard. While I know I'm not near dating ready, I need to do something to kill my time. I've been looking for jobs in my field and holy fuck does the little pay make me want to blow my brains out. I need dollars and I hate dollars. Why does it not pay nearly enough to do the really important things in life? Mentoring kids. Urban youth being my specialty. I love doing it, but it doesn't pay the bills. I'm looking at jobs and McDonalds would pay more.

I seriously just want be a travel writer at this point. And fuck vacation destinations, I want to go hang gliding from Everest and write about that shit. I need to go back to school just for the credentials... Fuck me. Someone pay me to go places and do crazy shit. I still love kids, but I can write about them too. In other places. I want that life. Following photographers up snowy hills, snowboarding in Russia, Going to Indian or African Elephant sanctuaries. Trekking along side children and explaining their daily struggle to get water. I want to Jump out of planes everyday for the rest of my life. Recycle plastic and make homes in Puerto Rico, rebuild.

I want more than this. My soul is uneasy. I want to bang my face into a brick wall. I don't care I don't have a person to do this with, I'm not afraid to do these things alone. But to get money to do these things I have to settle for below slave wages and maintain responsibilities here. I can't do what I have to do and what I want. And my adult ADHD can't function thinking about spending my whole life working away to try to afford my dreams.

Money does't solve problems, but just today I feel like it would solve mine. I just need enough to do all the above. Or if someone knows someone who's looking for a travel writer with zero experience... I just need my expenses paid. I'll leave everything behind... minus the kids. Maybe sometimes I'll leave them behind too. lol

But my dog comes with. for ground adventures at least. God save the Queen. I need a new good book too. Maybe my brain needs to shut up with someone else's words.

Such a beautiful night tonight I think I'll kill myself

So that sounds horrible to whoever doesn't know who Jhonen Vasquez is.

He wrote the comic Johnny the homicidal maniac. Also Invader Zim. I miss my cupcake.

It's warm enough out tonight and clear enough I think I want to sleep on the beach. My happy place. Not too many more nights in this season I can do it.

I'm perplexed by my own thoughts today. Why did I go so long thinking because I was good that the world entitled me to Good? It's such a narcassist thing to think.

Even my grandiose view of love was plagued with that. I almost hate myself for it. I'm the epitome of the very thing I dislike.

Self realization sucks. I'm not entitled to anything. I can hope for good. I can hope for love. But realistically that's it. I can't expect it. And if I let that fact change me then I was never good in the first place. I was Self ritious.

I need to find a better job. I need to work more than two days a week. I need to get serious about my freelancing. I need to suck it up and find a job in my field with my license too.

I need to stop fantasizing. About love. About sex. And I should stop drinking, not because I can't, but as all people, I need to stop numbing myself for being less than what I anticipated. I may need to actually grow the fuck up.

I switched my own second septum out today. I should maybe do my own seamless to avoid hot piercer chic.

I need to stop hovering. In this doorway of life. I need to do something. But I don't want to do just anything. I hate that shit costs money.

I need tools to do my own story boards. I need cameras. I need my passport. I need to get my shit together and stop doing everything else. I also need my own parachute. And I need to go to Peru.

I may never come back if I do. I can have all the wisdom in the world but if I only use it for philosophical conversations with myself what fucking good is that.

I may need to start using drugs again. Legitimate.

I wonder what my doppelgangersare doing right now. I wonder how many of them are sitting in a hammock alone in life pondering the same shit. And how many of them apply themselves the way I need to. I wonder how many of them are in happy relationships.

Fuck you happy doppelgangers

We Don't Care about Rules

I've been restless. A stirring of my soul. My dog has been too. I take her on an extra long walk. Where I decide to march right into the store with her and if anyone says anything I'm going with.. She's a service animal. We walk in, no one says anything until we get to the counter. The cashier goes is that your pup?

Yes. and I yell out abruptly "We don't care about rules" ... So much for the planned excuse I was going to use. So we walk the beach side home. There has always been a closed at dusk sign, and no no pet rule.... But it's me we are talking about here. So I walk up to the chain and try to get her to go under it first. She hesitated. So I cross over, unhook her leash from her harness and she follows suit. This girl is geeked. She needed to get that excess energy out. And we live nine blocks down from the main beach where we broke in so she lets loose. Even better, it's low tide. So I hike up my pants and start walking through the water. We get back to the beach in front of my house and take her harness off. Now for some reason, and I've tried many times, she has never wanted to have anything to do with the water... my Lenny Love goes ham. Starts chasing a crane, going a quarter mile down away from me. It's a pretty secluded area. Most of the residents follow the rules. I'm not one of them. So I let her gallop through the lake for about 15 minute and then have to pick my 70 pound baby girl up and help her over the breaker wall.

I don't know why in life, but I have always been a habitual line stepper as I like to call it. Everything is dull and mundane and so set in stone. Even when I sleep on the beach at night, it's against the law. I'm sure anyone who walks the walkway in front of my house and sees me at 2 am fast asleep with my pillow and blankets thinks I'm crazy anyway, but they all leave me alone.

I need a sense of danger to feel calm. It could be my A.D.D. but you know it could just be the rest of the world tends to be to fucking boring and we only live once. When I sleep on the beach though, I feel one with the entire universe. Like the cosmos are some of my only real best friends. I feel whole.
Now scientifically we really do break down to star dust. Maybe it's a call of my atoms to quiet them. No city lights, so the stars illuminate like I'm sleeping under a kaleidoscope of diamonds. The waves as my background meditation music.

I say fuck houses man... just sleep on a beach. And start breaking rules. Adventure is good for the soul. 


and not that they are great pics but here's my Lenny Love in the lake.