Anew

Uh… hi Blog! I apologize for neglecting you… once again… but come on; with my track record is that really such a surprise?

*sigh*

So life. It’s a crazy experience that I’m analyzing away which is beyond the realm of acceptable. So I have decided to make a goal and attempt to keep it, which for any of those that know me- STOP LAUGHING. I am going to write in here at LEAST three times a week. That allows four days to slack so that should be enough for my hebetudinous ass (yes, that is a word I recently discovered and am damn proud to use. GO VOCABULARY).

I’ve always fancied myself a composer of stories. Not so much a writer as my literary mechanics can make the sturdiest of English teachers recoil in disgust. Mainly because I almost NEVER proof my work before I hand it in or deem it done. This is a skill I am s-l-o-w-l-y acquiring. To say I am impatient wouldn’t be quite right, but close. I need to get my idea/thoughts out immediately otherwise it recedes back in to the chaos that is my subconscious which is beyond infuriating. When I re-read it I end up editing it into a completely different story/subject. The same happens when I am trying to speak so I interrupt or change the subject which can be just a wee bit irritating to those I engage in conversation. It is a trait I am trying to eradicate, I assure you. But due to my forced lack of filter (aka thinking before I speak) it makes things a bit more complex. As mentioned earlier, I over analyze EVERYTHING but the subject in which I am constantly scrutinizing is myself. This leads to completely illogical problems and insecurities. When I try and ponder what I want to add to a verbal soiree my brain promptly trucks it to Alabama and fucks a pig.

No, really.

Any interesting fact or tidbit I want to contribute is immediately slapped down and I begin to dry heave words and phrases that really, really should have never left my mouth. It gets far, far worse when I am around a person I find attractive. Be it male or female, if I admire them my verbal skills dwindle down to the point where I utter “I get bloody noses”. No lie. That’s one of the first things I said to my ex.

Charming, no?

So I usually to attempt to put my analytical butcher aside and just own my awkwardness. Yeah I talk to trees and hate the noise rubber duckies make because they sound sad to me. Yes, I know a little bit about a lot of things but I find it hard to retain any in-depth knowledge of a subject I have studied at length. Yes I will probably interrupt you but I promise I will recognize that I did and try my damnedest to only do it once. Yes, candy bars are an appropriate way to start the day. On that note, yes I will eventually join the YMCA and stop bitching about my flabby ass. But, anyway, back to the interrupting portion of this nonsensical post. I am striving to stop this because I want people to know that listen. I really do. I love hearing people talk about where they come from or experiences they’ve… experienced (shhh I’m too lazy to use a thesaurus right now). They’re stories and that’s what I live for. Everyone and everything has a story and I’d love to know them all. I can’t promise I will remember them but I’d still like to hear them.

So, yeah. Three times a week of my mental vomit and fanatical musings. I can TASTE your eagerness. Also, I want to put a picture up I’ve taken in at least one of the posts because damn it I’m becoming proud of my pictures. I don’t alter them in photoshop or gimp but that’s something I am interested in learning. Once I karate chop my ass to inspire some motivation. Oh how I loathe the sloth in me. But HA HA! I shall slowly back the laziness out my ear this year for I shall be quarter of a century old soon and I’d like to be able to at least say OMG I COMPLETED A GOAL, ISN’T THAT AWESOME!

So baby steps. POST NUMBER ONE, OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. And here’s my pic:



I took this when I was in Santa Cruz। I love the colors and I love sunsets sooooooooo BADDA BOOM BADA BANG. There you have it.

Rant.

I think some indie bands are a sick twisted joke. The skinny malnourished boys croon about how lonely they are while eying the crowd for their next groupie. Then there’s always that naive girl that feels like the lyrics are talking to her, talking about her and she believes in fairy tales and happily ever after’s. She stumbles towards the stage, awe in her eyes with an open heart and the band’s eyes overlook her in search of the girls that act disinterested.

I just don’t get it. I have guy friends that also complain about how lonely they are, but when they get with a girl that actually shows interest, they freak out. WTF. You wanted someone…. you get someone and then you freak out. BUT, BUT if a girl act disinterested she’s a fucking goddess.

Explain!

Apparently, in this city, if you want someone, treat them like shit and they come panting back for more. How fucked in the head are people?

Humans are fucking WEIRD. Basically, as we grow up we're taught to be self reliant and all that shizzy yet there’s always that hint of “Oh you’ll find someone to spend your life with”. I just can’t deal anymore. It’s just bullshit. Who CARES if you find someone? Shouldn’t it be about your experiences in life seeing as how… it’s your life? I’m so tired of people bitching about how they’re lonely. I’m also tired of boys that build you up only to find that they just don’t have it in them to love.

Rad. Awesome. Then just tell me its sex and I’m good. Really. Why go on and on about how much you like a person and all that bullshit only to be emotionally unavailable? It’s such a waste of effort and time. If you’re just in to sex, awesome, I know where I stand.

No, this has not happened to me RECENTLY but it has happened to me. But a couple of dear friends have been jerked around enough to piss me off.

People can’t just be honest. I don’t get it. If you don’t like the person, FUCKING TELL THEM. If you do, then let them know.

But then again the boys that are usually jerks now became so due to a high maintenance cunt that cut off their balls and wore them in a jar around their skinny little neck. It turns into a vicious cycle of “I got fucked so I’m going to fuck someone over”. Yeah. Awesome logic.

It’s like cheating. If you don’t like the person that you’re with, break up with them. It’s that easy. Really. Just stop and think about it. If you’re tired of fucking the same person, let them know. It’s better then lying. I promise the pain of being dumped is so much easier to deal with then lies.

Ah rants. I’m just baffled at the lack of care people have while dealing with others. I’m also tired of the “lists”.

OH GOOD GOD THE LISTS!

“My perfect significant other is this tall, and this skinny, and has this color hair and blahity fucking blah”

Really? You’re really going to be that specific because all those physical requirements are that important. Really? You couldn’t love a girl that has blue eyes and blond hair? Really? Eye color is that important?

What about just TALKING to someone? Yes, I understand that there are certain physical attributes that a person may find attractive, but it is so hard to go outside of them?

*shakes fist*

I just don’t get it unfortunately. Perhaps I’ve become too jaded. Right now I view love as an experience I want nothing to do with. I hate being vulnerable. I hate it. I don’t know if I have it in me to open up like that. I’m not saying I’ll never fall in love again, that’s just silly. It’s just… while I help glue everyone’s heart back together mine becomes more hardened and reluctant to ever be seen without armor. I’ve seen so many battle wounds that I don’t remember what the reward was. Someone to cuddle with? Someone to laugh with? I can do that with my friends.

What was the point of loving again?

Murder and Chocolate Hearts

Um wow. Soooo. A lot has changed since that last post. Too much too really update but I can try and sum up.

1. I stopped living inside my head.

2. I stopped constantly fretting about what people thought of me.

3. I got married, had 50 kids and started a baby farm where a genetic cow fought it’s way past my security system to plant a stick of dynamite in my oven so the farm blew up and when it did I discovered oil and am now a bazillionire.

HA! Lies. Well just that last one. But I do admit that I super suck for once again not updating a blog. BUT my few and probably not real readers, I have been posting blogs some where else. Some where else called myspace.

Don’t judge me. People actually comment there. SO HA!

Anyway.

Now I have always scoffed at this day because it’s based on a horribly over-dramatized story of a martyred catholic priest and I never could find the connection between murder and chocolate hearts. Well, I take that back. If you take away my chocolate, you could find yourself in a hole someone where, obeying my command of putting some lotion in a basket due to a threat of a hose. BUT really, I know the holiday is a sham and turns couples into this overly mushy, obnoxious plague to be avoided at all cost and sends single people into a spiral of doom and running towards the nearest bar. But, for once, I do not belong in either of these categories. Yes, I have a Valentine.

Absorb what typed there please, because it’s taking me a while as well.

Me. Spastic Sally. Has. A. Valentine.

Now this is a new thing so I don’t know if we’re a “we” (ha! irony we’re a we…ok nevermind) in a relationship sense but we’re not horribly mushy and while I’m big on chocolate, I rather DECREASE the size of my ass so none shall be given. Flowers are pretty buy I’ve never been a big fan of killing things because I still carry the guilt of killing my little bamboo plant (shhhhhhhhh I know it’s hard to kill bamboo but not all of us are gifted with a green thumb sooo stfu!) so I’d rather not watch something else wither and die. I also love trees and refuse to contribute to something as absurd as a card when I can just send an e-card for free.

But this whole fellow thing is quite new to me. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Honestly. It wasn’t that I had given up, I just stopped caring. That is in bold because I swear on all the chocolate hearts in the world that the SECOND you stop caring you send of this vibe to the opposite sex (or same sex, whatever your flavor) and their heads perk up, their eyes zoom in on you and some even may begin to fondle their genitals.

Hey, I ‘m just being honest.

Anyway

Yeah. Life. A strange a peculiar journey I am beginning to love more and more. The twists and turns sometimes leave me spinning, but quite honestly, I love it. How can you enjoy the sweet with out the bitter? A good cry is awfully therapeutic and laughing until you wet yourself is always a good story to open with when meeting someone new.

Or that could just be me.

But I am happy. SO HA! DOUBLE HA! TRIPLE HA! I’ve never been in this situation. Sure I’ve dated before and been in a long-term relationshit but… I’ve never been with someone who was this thoughtful. I’ve actually poked him quite hard in the chest which prompted a baffled grunt and a raised eyebrow. I just smiled but I was secretly thinking

“You just can’t be real so if you’re a delusion I’d rather stay lost in my mind cause this rules.”

Who ever said romance was dead? But yeah, to all you bitter betty’s and mushy molly’s: I do hope that you have a good day and revel in our cultures ability to turn murder into romance. Just look at Romeo and Juliet. If you think that story is romantic I will bitchslap the SHIT out of you. If you need to ask why…

Please, please re-read it and THINK about it. Well, this certainly isn’t my favorite post but hell, it’s something. If you want to read one about my boobs vs a book read my myspace one. It may make you laugh.

That is all. Carry on!

People that make me think (GOOD THING)

So while wandering the twisted corridors of my mind I came across a memory of a person's words that made me think. In a good way. A productive way. In a-Heather-there’s-life-outside-your-fucking-head way. Obvious, no? I guess you could say I'm a bit of a dreamer. But believe it or not I used to be *very* closed. I never let anyone in for fear of getting hurt. But because of that I was pretty much brutalized by an event in my life that still makes me cringe to recall it. Because of that I became too open. My life story literally pours out of my mouth like verbal vomit when ever any one asks a simple question. Or at least it used to. I've learned to manage it a bit more but I still just lay everything out on the table, but I think I prefer it that way. I am not one for mind games. If I feel something, I'd rather say it.

But, of course, there is an exception to this: “liking” someone.

If some one likes me, and I don't return the feelings it is very hard for me to just come out and say it. I’d much rather disappear. Keep in mind this has only happened a handful amount of times BUT it happened. Also if I like someone… ohhhh brother. I turn in to a wreck.. As you can tell from my previous blogs, I am so very shy when it comes to this. I can talk to anyone about anything EXCEPT this. I am terrified of being that vulnerable. Rejection scares the shit out of me (in that sense). Why oh why do boys no longer approach females? If they do it’s usually not for a date it’s usually for “wham, bam, thank you mam”. I can’t do that. I feel far to much. Besides, sex is better when there is *some* type of emotion behind it. At least for me.

Anyway, back to people that make me think. I love them. Your mind can never grow if you don’t challenge it. It’s taken a bit but I now understand that when people challenge, it’s different than attacking. I used to get all uppity and sensitive now I just try and recall my facts (they tend to fly in and out of my brain with the fervor of a bat on speed) and hold my own.

Ah words. Sometimes they explode out of me. (for serious)

Yes, words explode out of me. I'll be sitting there, all unsuspecting like and then BAM! A random order of words comes to mind and I *must* right them down or else they'll slip back their homes in mind and will never again come together in the same order. Here's one I did copying down on a napkin and eventually transfer to a word doc:

Let me choose my shade from you
Deliciously dark black and memories of blue
Seemingly serpentine
Glowering over the illustrious sheen
That was once my love for you.

Cheesy? Perhaps. Dramatic? Definitely. But I happen to like it. These periods of explosive creativity have definitely waned. It used to happen at least once a day. But now I'm lucky if it occurs once a month. And it's killing me. I hate not being able to transfer my thoughts to paper or even type them out. It’s really been the only thing I did that helps release some of the madness in my mind.

I like to think of my mind like a library. If it get disorganized (which it is right now) I can not find a damn thing. Then things begin to pile up and finding anything becomes a chore and near impossible. This is what makes me shy. It frustrates me to no end that I can not recall key facts that will back up my story. Hell or even events that happen in a story I’m trying to tell. Then I get flustered and try and back pedal to try and remember just where the fuck I read said fact while the person I’m trying to debate with immediately thinks I’m making it up or knows nothing due to my sputtering and pauses. I wish I could remember even just a tiny bit of what I absorb. I will spend all day reading something and can’t recall a fucking thing. Grrrrrr. Ok well I believe this strange blurb shall be the blog for the day. I will try and write more on a daily basis if only for my sanity and maybe for those that come across it.

Also THINK OF ALL THE STORIES THAT HAVE BEEN LOST!!! - Tracking a Vanished Civilization

Rational vs irrational

Ok, so I figure I’m divided in two (insert cheesy Gemini jokes here). The rational part of me and the irrational part (ie.: mess). Unfortunately the irrational has a firm hold on me as of late. So much so that fricken EYE CONTACT has become a chore. For example, a couple of months ago a guy in one of my classes tried to strike up a conversation with me while waiting for the bus. Not flirting or anything, just talking. For about 5 mins everything was going fantastically. No sputtering, no snorting, no hysterical giggles and none of me trying to ignore him for fear of… well I don’t know exactly I’m afraid of but it’s terrifying enough to have me running, literally. Because sadly, that’s what ended up happening.

I ran.

Yes, you’re reading correctly. I actually ran away from him. On to the bus, far in to the back while my rational and irrational parts of my brain were duking it out.

Rational: What the fuck was that?

Irrational: OMG OMG OMG he may sit back here. OMG OMG

Rational: So?

Irrational: Than I’d have to talk to him again.

Rational: And this is bad because……?

Irrational: Because!! What if I have something on my face? Or what if he secretly thinks I’m incredibly ugly and is silently making fun of me? OMG I can feel my rolls move every time we go over a bump!

Rational: You’re a fucking moron. Who cares what he thinks? As long as you’re happy nothing else matters. If you’re so concerned with you weight than why not DO something about it?

Irrational: I’m going to start jogging as soon as I get new running shoes!

Rational: Suuuuure. And than you’ll need new clothes, than another excuse and another. Just fucking do it!

Irrational: I will!

Rational: You haven’t yet and been bitching for years.

Irrational: Fuck you!

Rational: You do realize that you have no argument and are just extremely lazy right?

Irrational: *gives silent treatment*

Rational: I wish I could punch you in the face.


Yeah. So that’s my head. And guess what kiddies, it’s ALWAYS turned on. I KNOW that I’m acting completely absurd. I know that when I ignore a guy that is actually looking at me with interest, it’s my loss. Every time I try and even just *smile* at a guy that’s looking at me I feel like there’s a butterfly in my stomach with a AK47 and the voice which sounds astoundingly like my mouth turns on and any self assurance I had is floundering out the window. So I keep walking, head down, headphones on and my rational side just begging me to do SOMETHING. But no, I become shy and awkward and get down on myself. That may be the saddest thing of all. No one cares, but apparently the fact that I do outweighs the entire fucking world.

Why am I writing this here?

Well 2 selfish reasons really. 1. In case anyone else there feels like this and thinks they’re fucking nuts (which I do think I’m fucking nuts) you’re not alone. 2. To show people that YES I know what you’re about to say. “Heather who cares what anyone thinks?” I DON’T KNOW!!!! I’m trying to not care. Really. Than some one with incredible self confidence walks up and I’m ready to jump in to traffic just to get away from them.

Rational: Cue psycho music.

Quiet you!!

I am working on it. I am a work in progress. I DID go jogging last night and plan on trying to do it tomorrow morning. Yes I know that I need to learn self-discipline. I’m working on it.

One of these days my rational side is going to kick my irrational side to the curb, and it’s going to be fucking awesome.


ps. This is an old post I never put up. I shall be writing a new one by the end of this week. Don't give me that look, I've been busy.