Weirdness. After doing a few stupid things lately I’ve had a while to think. I wish that:
1. I had three eyes or 4D vision.
2. Meat grew on trees.
3. I had 2 brains or 2 hearts.
4. Life had an eraser.
5. Robots would replace child labor.
6. I could run on batteries.
7. I could see music.
8. Men got pregnant.
9. Breathing was optional.
10. There were more than 3 primary colors.
11. Inanimate objects could talk.
12. Bodies/teeth/hair cleaned themselves.
13. Dreams could really interact between people.
I just got dismissed from my workplace as a secretary because I missed work without notifying anyone. I’m not going shopping for a long time and I wish I could give it back to pay off my credit cards. My parents are helping me out, but it still sucks. I had fun in Mexico and spent my earnings on random accessories, but now I know it wasn’t worth it (half our stuff got stolen). I’m becoming who I don’t want to be. Me, Valerie, and Gina hitched a ride down to Mexico with a family of three and found some good lookin boys to hang out with that night. We slept on the floor in their house and passed out. The next morning we had trouble finding a way back. We tried to get back into the states and we ended up getting driven by a creepy old man in a white pickup truck. After being uncomfortable for like 5 minutes we decided to say “we wanted to stop here” in order to find a new ride. I was kinda hungry since I hadn’t eaten, but I lost my appetite from being scared. Before the sun came down, two women picked us up and brought us to Green Valley (half an hour away from my home). Another man who was bald took us into town. I’m home now and I won’t be able to go to sleep tonight.
I stayed curled up in a ball today. Internally I feel like nothing is resolving. Externally I have nothing to do. I’ve lost my appetite and I can’t think straight. I always try to think of what’s wrong with me. I’m not a hypochondriac but I know there is something short circuiting. (Normality doesn’t exist and that’s not what I’m striving for) I just want to be content. I can handle the unexpected. First I think I’m bipolar or something, then I think I am schizophrenic or psychotic to a mild degree. I want to have Alzheimer’s disease; maybe not. I’m already screwed up it seems to me. I’ve never done any drugs, but I don’t need drugs to make myself feel out of touch. My ex-boyfriend called today and tried to blame me for his cheating on me. This was a few months ago and I can’t stand that he brings it up because I wouldn’t “put out”. I’ve let go of it, but the fact that I persevere in thinking it only compounds the stress. Everything is unstable and I feel like letting the turmoil spill to the ground.
Taking a shower is one of the things that keeps me going. The shower is in my Top 5 list of things that make a day perfect. The waters got to be the right temperature. I squeeze out just the right portion of conditioner. Then I lather up my soap in the loofah with enough consistency. It’s like a heaven that fish live in and people only get a taste of.
One thing that’s always puzzled me wherever I go; any shower I use, there’s a small thing that gets on my nerves. Why does the nozzle that you would use for a bath decide to spill a final remainder of water when I’m all done? Sometimes it runs off right away; other times theres a delay. Why can’t I save it for later? Whoever made the system is a jerk. Did he really think I was going to take a two-second bath, especially after I just took a ten-minute shower? It’s like the equally annoying phrase “Would you like fries with that?” -NO, I would not like fries. I already ordered fries dammit.
my secret friend
You have no idea
Where I’ve been
I’m not sure what it is supposed to be about, I wrote it spontaneously. I’m frustrated by my coworkers hitting on me. They always tend to assume I’m a lesbian since I don’t return their feelings. Never seems to occur to them that I might simply be dead inside. Or that I may have a schizoid personality disorder. [A word comes to mind- scrotum. How hideous, it sounds like a velociraptor or a bird. Mute. That’s what they want isn’t it? Passing inanimate gestures as they cough up words to express what? Sexual interest? If you can’t enjoy the gore of my vagina bleeding you’re probably too young to be having sex with me billy.] I don’t know why other girls like the mean guys I want someone cool and brain dead, like Andy Warhol. Hmmm perhaps a catatonic boy would be nice. Not contaminated by the cancerous prions of society.
Note: prions are proteins that cause diseases such as Creutzfeldt Jacob’s disease, that is what they call a person with mad cows disease.
I heard my science teacher joke once that male ejaculate had a high protein content and so it was good for you to eat. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with these other girls, contamination by prions. “This stuff is amazing bob I lost 70% of my fat using this diet pill admittedly most of the fat lost came from my brain but hey…”
Awakening from a crazy dream, I realized I was sweating buckets. It was gross, but I woke up out of breath and scared as hell for no reason. I drempt (is that a word) that I was being flushed down a kitchen faucet. I fell into this pool and started to drown. I couldn’t swim. It was night and no one was there. I was in a closed park or residential pool that was locked. I ended up at the surface and security were calling the police and I was being questioned for “breaking and entering.” Then it started to shower with lightning all around me. At the crack of piercing thunder, I woke up.
I guess I’m partially sick. I have a sour taste in my mouth since the morning. I was going to go on a run today cuz I haven’t been active for a while. My stomach hurts so I took Pepto-Bismol. For breakfast, I had 4 cups of coffee and now I can’t stop moving. I’m bouncing around while reading, while doing laundry, and polluting the air with my singing of “Just Like a Woman.”
To top off everything my cat ran away this morning. It was a one year old tabby. My dad said he was going to look around the neighborhood, but he got home late from work. I am sad because I think he’s been made into a meal for the wild animals. My muscles are sore and now I finally think the coffee is taking its toll on me. Sorry to all who called me today; I haven’t been myself and twas feeling ornery for the better part of the day. I’m still going bowling this weekend.
TV sucks. I’m the kind of person who is never content with watching the boob tube for extended periods of time. I’d rather consciously lack thinking than be hypnotized by television and the promotional commercials. As a matter of fact, I sat down with the lights turned off, let in a hint of sunlight, and stared at my wall in my room for 10 minutes straight and tried to condense my thoughts. The 10 minutes last a lifetime, but the 600 seconds are quite pleasant.
“Beyond the Horizon,” from Modern Times by Bob Dylan was playing on the radio at 98.9 FM, more specifically on the show called American Roots. I might have to listen to that station more often. I was just skipping through stations and I heard the song. I’ve never heard a new tune by Dylan on the radio before; probably because I hardly listen and he doesn’t fit in commercially with all the other stations.
I’m going to start by revealing how I got started here. I’ve never kept an actual diary before. I like to write things down, partly because I can look back at myself and the other part is I can keep track of my thoughts. Instead of displaying my activities on myspace, I wanted to make my own site. The vision I had was I could have complete strangers read and be read without the worry of being invited or accepted based on criteria of your profile. It doesn’t matter here. I have a myspace, but I get sick of the guys messaging me with inappropriate material. In other words- being rude and invasive and making me feel uncomfortable. Plus there is some bad news that myspace was invented on a spam marketing scheme. No wonder all those bulletins are just more advertisements. I can understand advertising to keep the site in business, but half a page of ads? I had to delete my account because it got hacked and sent porn links to my friends. Now I only touch myspace with a stick to keep in touch with friends. It’s pretty hard to type with a stick though.
Anyway, back on topic. So I had a plan, now I needed to execute it. What should I call it? I had a few names that I liked.
A few of those were taken already. I wanted something short, but I couldn’t find the perfect name. I became desperate. I was searching for the wackiest site names. I found out that FreePMS.com is available, but that’s not what I wanted to make my site into. Eventually I thought of the word complex and how even the word “complex” has several complicated meanings. It can be a chemical compound, psychological abnormality, or a nexus of intricate parts that is hard to explain. I thought all definitions applied to my objective to some degree. The name also has a double interpretation grammatically. It can mean…
Verb: Complex me. As a command, saying “Confuse me,” or make me think.
Adjective: Complex me. As a description of me being hard to understand or being composed of a series of impulses, emotions, or molecules.
Before I was able to make my own website, I found a guy who does web design. Ironically, I found his site when looking for relevant happenings in my town, and we have some of the same interests. So I asked if he could help set up the technical stuff for me. He registered my website name for me and put up a wordpress blog for me. Then he added a few theme templates that were free to use and he ended up not charging for his time. And my site is working just how I want it!