and so it goes.

Im thankful for a lot of things, I ve realized…to the point where I think in order to not sweat the small things, I am going to post them everyday. not on here, mind, just on fet. a little reminder of what I am happy for. this week has proven a great deal of thanking.

I didnt check to see what my last entry was, but I will say that I have only one class of chem left, I ahve aced spanish, and jack is getting surgery for a torn ACL. jon is finally giving him a small bit of the attention he deserves.  I realized that I cried harder about the idea of losing jack than I did with my own father. which is slightly twisted, but look at my life and tell me when hasn’t that been the case.  colm is still a great friend, and becoming convincingly too good to be true, or possibly too real for life. I admit I love the idea of moving in with him in canada,  and having an adult life. but for now, I am thankful that I have someone who makes me blush, makes my heart race, and I desire him. lots!
Im grateful for netflix. V is such a good person, and I am glad to know someone like her that gives me hope that I can be just as happy. glad for prozac—I mean it. I gave up the ghost, et voila! happier than I’ve been in years. I saw a side of me a month ago that I thought I would never see again.  I’m gald for snow, and I am glad for sleep…

it is a long december, but this year will be better than the last. I feel good things coming, a good moon rising, and the start of a marathon, where I know I have won. dont worry, I still have my cynical sarcastic slightly mean side. but just the same as I can appreciate ray lamontagne, bare feet, flared jeans and hempwear, I can still love clunky boots, stretchy ears, black lipstick, heavy eyeliner, corsets and spooky things. it’s just me. and I am pretty fuckin’ cool.

total sads that I can’t celebrate it the way I want, that last year I was in the same spot, even though I was working…anyway. things are different now…sort of.

classes are going. I’m going to start working out this week. one hospital stay, same situation as last november, just less severe. I’m getting over the irishman. seen the most outstanding example of photoshop fuckery ever known…still confused over that.

aaaaand I’m on prozac. I’m giving up on the crusade of I’m fine without meds, and just getting to normal. kinda happy. I mean, I was in the pits of despair, then three days later, a complete turnaround. maybe there’s some hope in there after all??? can’t seem to orgasm though…but then again, who the hell is having sex with me? a certain friend eyes my tits for wank material. I still feel dirty about it, bc I love his gf to bits. whatever. nothing is going to happen outside a zombie apocalypse ruining that relationship, and even if he were to find me suddenly alluring, I couldnt.

more than anything I want to forget things or at least stop aching from failures. I have a chance to get studio time, and I’m scared.

I oversleep. I dont eat. if I could, I’d spend all day in bed. still not working, still terribly poor. it wouldn’t be so bad, except things that I actually NEED are unavailable, and it’s making me feel ugly.

Im existing.

I would want to be perfect for HIM. so far, if HE did run into me, he’d pass me by. b/c I don’t even care anymore. sigh.

new year, new hopes for a new life.
slainte, samhain.

I’ve got total sads. Fuckit. I don’t have the words right now.

so what’s new? irishman, not so much. I’m in school, hating my chemistry class to all hell, despite my teacher being a christian christopher walken. (he IS. every class I picture him in a different walken flick!!)

spanish is okay. my teacher is a quiet romantic, well behaved and gentlemanly. no cursing, no movies with gratuitous sex and violence. I’ve already got an A under my belt, so I’m happy with that. I cannot wait to start anthro, as I think it will level out the two personas right now—chemistry angst, hippiebliss espanol.

also, I’m teaching a class! like, really teaching. absolut petrified. but I think it’ll go alright. it’s a paycheck, albeit it’s high school. (so did NOT want to teach high school!!!)

random. sorry, but what else did you think I would be? fell in total like of dr. who, somewhat like of Torchwood. (I have no idea why I need to keep capitalizing it) the show has helped me with a welsh accent, and “miracle day” has been a roller coaster of suck and awesone. kinda sturm und drang, but not so german?!? anyway, the doctor. who wouldn’t want someone brave and brilliant to save the world while adventurously traveling? we all want a doctor. I, want a TARDIS.
that sounded soooo geek.

so I have been active on my Tumblr, which seemed at first to go the way of the twitter as far as participation. but now, I love to look at the different things, experiences, and PICTURES!!! oh, I am in picture heaven!

turning old tomorrow. I have a prominent wrinkle, and extra grey in the hair, single as all hell, a spinster. it is rather depressing, but, I still go on. something amazingly profound should be writ at this point, but I’m bereft.
I have friends. albeit online, but friends regardless, as that guy has been rather harsh, panther mum has been almost completely silent, and fern has driven me to the point where I really can’t be around her. time changes everything, I guess.

took a ct scan for the pain, and somehow it has diminished as of late.
is it all in my head?

so. updates. if I were better equipped to type on Gomez, there would be more entries, but…eh, here we go.

MOD- officially gave the boot two weeks ago. he became quite annoying, as we were supposed to meet up, I didn’t have any money (again), and I wasn’t ready to see him. he didn’t tell me when a good time was when he was available (seeing everyone he needed to see), and I told him this. it led to an argument, he said he was through—I saw an opening and went with it. shutdown every bit of available communication, and I haven’t looked back since. I have had a slight twinge, as far as how he is, how sad he must be, but in the end, I don’t feel bad. this is something I should’ve done in march when I first met him, when he first irritated me. I felt guilty about doing so b/c he made me feel like I would be a golddigger after buying me things. in the end, some things eventually get said. it was impending due to an amazing amount of ignorance and stubbornness, very non Dom behaviour, and I don’t think he will be able to hold on to a woman very long, unless she’s like me, circa 1995. good night, and good luck. a chapter closed, a lesson learned.

the kid—had his 30th birthday, and I certainly earned a foundation built in heaven, maybe even a first floor. I’ve been making peace with Tiamat, his sig other. we went to a respiratory therapy meet&greet (more about that later), and I went shopping with her. (just her and I) I picked out the watch he is wearing, she paid for it. a 1600.00 watch marked down to 467.00; I got taste, what more is there to be said? she let me pick out his cake as well, but I didn’t go to that function(again, more later). the reason why I bring that up is that she didn’t know he liked star wars. you may think that’s irrelevant, but the media one chooses to entertain oneself with is a big deal to me. it is a literal escape into one’s persona, their tastes, their psyche. her not knowing that bothered me just as much as her not knowing his likes and dislikes. been together two years, and not know???
but, whatever. he had come over towards the end of june, saying it was over. it was on again in less than four days. when I went over there to watch TB, the house was filthy, and she was less than accomodating. basically, I read it as one of two ways. ladder climbing and she is trash. or, she is sincere. I’m still on the “don’t truss it” side, but he has again become softhearted and foolish. whatever. I am making peace because I don’t want to lose him. her and I had drinks and finally talked it out and I told her my feelings. I am civil for his sake. you fuck him over, you break his heart, and I will kill you. and she laughed. and I told her I’m not laughing, do you think this is a fucking joke?
what an idiot.
but, she DID sober up once I said that. upon meeting her mother saturday, yeah…he’s captain save a hoe all over again…
fuck it.

back to me, I know that it comes back to me…
as far as health goes, I’ve gone to see the dr about my rebelling female organs. the pain. the clots, the sore nips, etc. she is either saving TONS of money or she honestly doesn’t want to deal, but either way she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with me. as of right now, I can disagree with that, as it feels like someone (a cenobite, perhaps?) is grinding up my girlybits. so if it’s cancerous, yes, I will sue for malpractice, and I hope to lose alot of weight.
I failed at nutrisystem, having lost only 15 pounds and gaining back 20.
respiratory therapy. again, having had to show my ass in front of the chair of the department has led me to realize that northwest indiana is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to ghetto ppl fucking it up for everybody. I could say black, but I really think it boils down to status. then race. either way, they did alot of dissuading, making it sound incredibly difficult to get in, to finish, to work in the hospital… I am quite resilient and stubborn, so FUCKALL about that noise. if anything, it makes me that much more angry, that much more driven to fucking finish it. it’s my ticket out. I’ve no other options, no other way to get what I want. and what else is there for me to do anyway? (as grad school creeps into my head) no, no, the income, the ability to work anywhere, I gotta finish this. wherever it leads.

lastly, I hope it isn’t a jinx, but I’ve made a milestone of sorts. the dubliner that I’ve been friends with on fet has made himself more intimate towards me, and I towards him. I have always enjoyed talking to him, as we have a lot in common, but I can’t say I’ve ever taken him serious, as he lives quite a distance. still, I have romanticized living in ireland, or at least seeing him and having the blarney fucked out of me. wouldn’t that be something, I thought. as a kid fall in love with ireland, desire someone I have lots in common with, then make a real thing out of meeting him?? but I need to be realistic about it. it’s just sex. we’re good friends who find each other sexy. it would take ages to actually make something out of it, and by then…well, let’s just say I don’t want to even begin to get my hopes up. (even though it sounds like I already have.)

I’m just enjoying it. I look forward to his letters, I imagine his accent talking as I read. it’s fun. he’s fun. something bright I get to anticipate a few times a week. I admit, I’m jealous of the girls I am friends with on fet, the ones who are 25 and married, and have awesome sex, and have cute husbands. “rasputin” as he’s labeled is cute and total fun. wishful thinking, take 12.

all in all, that’s life right now. classes start august 22nd, so I have something to look forward to doing that doesn’t make mum see me as a total loser. just be patient, I keep saying to myself, be patient, because it’s all coming together. goddess be praised for I am thankful, it is all coming together.

I think the best parts of my ongoing depression is how much stuff you want to do when it quiets down. It’s nearing that point, as I find myself showering, eating, and wanting to do other things besides sleep and Netflix. At least for the now.

I still am quite antisocial, as I have ducked suspects all weekend and carried the lie of how my stomach hurts. It’s a manageable hurt, but I’ve been parading it about as my Achilles. I just don’t feel like explaining myself, and I’d rather deal with being ostracized for no showing vs the looks people give you when you say you’re depressed. Over the years, I’ve had people say everything from ” suck it up, you aren’t depressed” to ” are you going to kill yourself?” to ” you NEED this medication for a reason, you should take it.”

In all honesty and politeness, FUCK YOU FOR NOT UNDERSTANDING ME. I don’t think anyone, unless they’ve been in this situation can really relate. I just remembered having a panic in front of Monday, n him being so scared. I hate remembering people sometimes. I was thinking earlier about someone who’s known me since I was a teen, n how if someone asked if she knew me, she would vehemently say yes. She really doesn’t. I’ve done the best job possible walling myself from the world. So many variations, all filed and boxed away.
Open only when needed.

So.

Had a major run of depression, to the point where I don’t want anyone talking to me. I did bother to explain it to MOD, as I doubt he would leave me be about not wanting to talk. He is incredibly kind about such things, but I can’t help but insulate myself from helping hands and concerned frowns. A long time ago I was betrayed by such intimacy, leading to embarrassment of the worst kind. I will never be in that state ever again. So I go through life, alone, not trusting a soul ( for after all, hasn’t the kid proven his lack of fidelity?) and then I develop this breakthrough about love, but I don’t know how to change it. And because I can’t believe that someone would care, in a “fuck it, hope I die” mode, I told MOD. isn’t that just the crazy?
I’m sure he cares in some way, but it means nothing. He has a prospective slave/sub/switch. I finally saw her face, and it doesn’t bother me anymore, because she isn’t pretty. She was, once upon a time, n I shouldn’t say such things, because how long will it be before mine are gone? But I don’t really feel all that jealous. Shallow lili.

I think that’s why I like the movie “salt” so much. I identify with her. Not the gun thing. Just the alone thing, the fact that if the one person actually loved me, and I knew it was love, I would be an unending vengeance.

I think this leads to my topic…

Being black in America and female. I may be intelligent, diverse, alternative, different, but that’s after you get to know me. People my ENTIRE LIFE have labeled me puerto rican, biracial, Jamaican, all because I am unlike any other black female they’ve met. I have even bent the truth ( a smidge) and copped to mixed ancestry ( it’s true but not as recent) because I don’t wish to be associated with African- American women. Which I STILL object. I’m not from an entire continent, only part of my ancestry is labeled, so… I’m american.

This latest bit in the news regarding an article in “Psychology Today” is what has myself and a good number of my peers in hackles. An article regarding black women as the most unattractive. I do think it’s funny that there are latent homosexual tones in the article, as the author notes the more appealing visage of the African American male.

I cannot help but shake my head at the whole event and sigh. I have kept most of my relationships with black women at an arms’ length(last summer being key evidence), but I think they/we bring it on ourselves. I’m an anomaly; around here, I may as well be a purple unicorn. But the overall attitude and demeanor only constitutes such contempt. I don’t agree with this asshole. I only sadly nod because it’s a worldwide view. An unflattering mirror of what is being projected.

Don’t believe me? Put “black females” in the search for YouTube and you will see what I mean.

Total sads.

In other news, my new doctor seems to think I need therapy.
Oh no, please not that again(think living colour).

I…got…nothin.

Fat=single
Skinny=sexy
Fat=sexless
Skinny=rampant whoredom
Fat=ugly, no matter the personality
Skinny=no matter how busted your attributes, someone
Will Always Find YOU ATTRACTIVE!!!

Hence, SKINNY WINS. tiny tits, so I don’t always have to wear a bra, hipbones, dates. I’m ready for someone to find me fuckin hot. I’m ready to be the anti me.
I really have come to this as a certainty, as MOD along with s chorus line of heartache and lonlieneas have demonstrated.

Who cares about a brain? Save it for when I’m dying. At least I’ll get more attention, more sex.

I hope you’re learning. I just wish someone gave a shit n told me this years ago.

In other news of tragedy and malaise, MOD told me he loved me tday. I said “thank you” in return. He got offended, but I told him I didn’t say it unless I meant it. I think I hurt his feelings, but his love is in the vein of best friend, or sister. I dont mind, but then again I do…
“nevermind, I’ll find someone like you…”
Right.

Going to quit my job tomorrow. They are unprofessional and I’m tired of smelling like smoke when I don’t smoke anymore. Nor do I enjoy the idea of getting paid 30.00 an 8 hr shift. A dishwasher makes more than I do.

So that’s life…more or less.