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Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
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There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| So we were supposed to have read up to chapter eleven in The House of the Seven Gables, but I had not, at the time of class, read the entire first chapter. I am already a very bad little Lyssah. So, I'm going to try to get up to speed on my reading tonight. I don't know if I will finish all of the reading tonight, but I will certainly try. I have promised myself that I will read to at least chapter five before playing any Maple Story, but we'll see how far I get before I crack. STORY UPDATE: I am at about five and a half pages into my story, the I-95 one. Not as far as I was hoping to get after so many days of work, but hey: it's a start. I wanted to try to be done by the next workshop sign-up date (Sunday) but I don't think that's going to happen without it looking really silly and childish. I think it already seems a little juvenile, the way I have it written, but hey, that's what editing is for, right? Right? Anyhoo, onto Chapter Two! I will best you, Nathaniel Hawthorn! I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| How wretched can I be if he doesn't even want to talk to me? I'd hoped he was just busy and hadn't been on Facebook, but nope: he's commented on photos, written on people's walls, bascially responded to everyone except me. I wonder if Taka told him anything, and if so, what did she tell him? That I hurt her feelings, made her cry? I know I did not. I know I cried, but Taka mentioned no hurt feelings, just taken-abackness, and frustration. I don't want to think of her in negative ways, but it wouldn't surprise me if she did trump up the story to gain sympathy and favor. It's not fucking right. He fucked with my head. I never tried to deceive him in any way. I didn't fawn on him. I expressed concerns that he seemed to be getting distant, yes, but I don't think I made this a constant thing for him. So why does he feel the need to avoid me? We're just not friends anymore. I'm the friend of a friend whom he's gotten to know somewhat well, but there's nothing between us anymore. I knew this would happen. It always does. How pathetic am I that having feelings for someone is disgusting and abhorrent to them? I wish I had something to make this all go away. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| So I'm still debating dropping chorus. It's a huge chunk out of my day that I could spend at the box office for four hours, or just napping. I decided to go ahead and audition for the Broadway show, and if I don't get a solo part, or anything at all, I can email Dr. B and just tell her that circumstances beyond my control have made it difficult for me to continue choir. It will be true enough, I'll just work during that period or use the time for my counseling sessions (for which I have not yet gone to schedule appointments, bad Lyssa bad). I could try to get into Women's, just run up and erase my name on the audition sheet, and talk to Mrs. East, but I'm still too shy. We'll see. My history professor looks a little like Viggo Mortenson, if he were skinny, red-haired, and a history professor. I like him a lot so far; he obviously loves what he's doing. His first words after verifying the class were, "We've been given a room without technology." He rules. Lockwood seems okay, so far. When she realized that we didn't get the email from Listserve about reading Poe, she seemed at a loss as to what to do, and spent ten minutes silently writing something on her syllabus. I've never had such an awkward silence in class before. Aside from the period after a prof asks, "So what was this story about?" Grant seems awesome. She's deaf, but she has a Cochlear implant, AND she has a lipreading ability of 92 percent. Nobody gets that good. She rules. She's really funny, and has some good stories to tell. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie.
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| So nobody has heard of any great literature that has a running joke of, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Therefore, I will attempt to write it, make it interesting, and present it to my class for their scrutiny. Hopefully there will be no problems and it will be enjoyable. |
| I've learned something about myself as I've gotten older: I'm a cynical bitch. I poke holes in the arguments of conservatives who want to ban gay marriage. I blast Christians who claim there's more proof in favor of Creation than evolution. I ridicule naive morons who present an obscenly oversimplified worldview on things such as global warming, abortion, terrorism, eating meat, and the proper term for that big evergreen that gets covered in lights and ornaments every winter. But lately, I've been cynical to an entirely different group of people: the makers of fantasy, horror, and sci-fi films. I'm just just talking about my typical B-movie commentary where I make fun of those silly actors and concepts of the future from decades past; I mean whether or not the movie is actually effective in presenting an interesting story, explaining the events, dishing out comedic relief, and by and large putting something together that is not only interesting, but which makes sense to the viewer. Therefore, I have decided to designate a new folder on my portfolio for what I shall call "Bitch Reviews." Sadly, I cannot actually name the folder that, or have it in the titles of the pieces, as this would violate Writing-Dot-Com's family-friendly titling policy, but I'll get the message across somehow. In these reviews I will present a highly crictical account of what I think is working, and what just fucking sucks. Because it is my nature, I will mostly be looking at horror movies, fantasy and sci-fi, any dystopic films I can find, and hell, why not even a few kids' movies, animated and live-action? Sorry, The Princess and the Trolls, but you had it coming. I haven't given a great deal of thought to more than a handful of movies, but I can assure you that once I get started, there will be no shortage of humor. To pique your interest, here is a partial list of some of the movies I will be attacking, er, analyzing: The Hobbit (animated} Lord of the Rings (animated) Lord of the Rings (live-action trilogy) C.H.U.D Silent Night, Bloody Night Snowbeast Tales From the Crypt Exorcist: The Beginning Countess Dracula Star Trek: The Motion Picture The Wrath of Khan The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (BBC version) And gods know what else You may have noticed that I included several movies that qualify as, well, good. Well, even the best movie has some horrible, critical flaws that must be pointed out, and plenty of entertaining films have plotlines and chains of events that just don't make any sense (see: The Mothman Prophecies). Sometimes directions and screenwriters just make bad decisions, and they should be held accountable for the harm they do to their creations. Therefore, Peter Jackson must pay for his portrayal of the elves. Anyhow, I hope to get these reviews up and running shortly. I hope you will enjoy them! I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie.
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| I am back from my holidays, and I still be sick, but not as sick. I just have the sniffles, which really sucks as I have no tissues at all and I don't want to use up all of Constance's toilet paper. So, I am blowing my nose into a washcloth. Probably going to make my nose hurt like hell in a few hours, but what can you do? So freaking tired (I woke up before nine! can you believe it?), so I'll update in more detail later. |
| So I'm off to Orange in an hour or so. I get to go and have my illness there where there is medicine and stuff. I feel so lethargic. I wonder if this is because I'm sick, or because that Phenergan is still in my system? Meh. I will survive. It can't be that bad; I do not even have much of a fever. Before I go I want to tell everybody Merry Christmas/Chanukkah/Yd/Yule/Kwanzaa (even though almost nobody celebrates Kwanzaa these days)/whatever other winter holidays are taking place. I hope everyone has a happy New Year (except for the Chinese since it will not occur at the same time) and overall, just enjoys the holiday seasonal lights. I know I like lights. Update: Still no word from Taka, but I'm beginning to care less. I think I am trying to make myself hate her since she has insulted me so many times (never at her own knowledge, though). Still not saying the "L" word about Bradley. I was prepared to be paranoid when he didn't respond on Facebook, but he did, so yay. I still hope we can be friends like before. He seemed excited when I said I had a linguistics class next term, then disappointed when it wasn't the one he was in. That made me happy. I'm getting sick as hell of hearing about "Colin David Smith," the Marine my sister is going to marry. The favoritism is back in her favor, even though my mother does not even speak to her. And oh yeah, still no health insurance. Fucking Kaiser. Not sure what else there is to say. I will miss my computer dearly over the next three weeks, but I am sure I can manage with TV and books. It kind of sucks that a lot of the programming will be Christmas-based, but hopefully History can sneak a railways disasters show in there. I like disasters. And now, back to the kitties! |
| I only need to get a 50 on my 325 final in order to pass the course with a marginal B. I think I will do much better than a 50, but it is good to know that I do not have to worry TOO much. |
| Went to the Mall with Shannon today (why on Earth did I capitalize the word "mall"?). I haven't seen her since two, three days before classes started in August. We pretty much just wandered around and looked at clothing. We got delicious Popeyes for dinner (I had to bring most of mine back in a doggy bag), the only thing I've eaten today though I plan on making cocoa after this blog update and I will likely much on chips while watching movies. I bought some cheap nail polish remover (finally remembered to get the damn stuff) and a new thing of mascara. I would like to state hear and now that the applicator for Revlon's "3D Extreme" mascara product is the most impractical design for a cosmetic that I have ever SEEN. Tiny tiny bristles on North and South, but NO bristles East and West? Fucking stupid! And clump-free my ass, I was getting nothing BUT clumps with that piece of crap! But now I have a Maybelline product with nice long bristles that will undoubtedly work much better than the marketing disaster that is Revlon: 3D Extreme. So yeah, I'm going to make cocoa, because it feels like there's crap in my throat that cannot be moved. |
| So, Marianne is being a bitch. She probably doesn't realize it, because she's the kind to deny wrongdoing, but she's being a mjor bitch right now. I'll say it: she should have known better than to blatantly hit on Bradley while I was sitting across from her. If it had only been the one comment, I would have bristled for a few minutes then gotten over it, but when she continues to talk about their "marriage" and goes so far as to start writing shit down like she actually IS planning a wedding, and that's all she fucking TALKS about for fifteen minutes, I don't have any time to recover. I mean, yes, I was oversensitive, but Jesus Christ! The Bradley-hitting JUST. KEPT. COMING!! I honestly felt like she was rubbing it in my face. I just got so overwhelmed by her constant talking about it, and I could NOT take anymore. Of course I won't tell her this to her face, or even over AIM, because I want it all over and done with. I'll let her think she did no wrongdoing, because she's probably just too absorbed in feelings of self-righteousness to consider, "Well, I DID do it a whole lot. Maybe I went a little too far by extending the joke for so long." I don't hate her. She is still my friend. I just really hate that she would be so inconsiderate and not actually think there was a problem. And about her bitching about how she was sick and tired of playing therapist to all her friends, well, it's her own damn fault for not actually coming out and telling me that it was too much. Yeah, I vented a LOT to her, but she is so straightforward, so blunt that I just assumed that she would have said something if it was too much. And yes, I said she could go ahead and go for Bradley, but I didn't mean I wanted her doing it in my fucking face! *sigh* I really thought Marianne was smart, proper, and dignified when it came to relationships, and now the girl who brags, yes, BRAGS about how she wouldn't send her former boyfriend nude photos is making fellatio jokes right in front of someone who is still trying to get over the focus of her innuendo. But, I have admitted my part of the conflict, and last night I really did feel like I was the only one to blame. Gave myself a really deep cut, screamed at myself to get over it and make the feelings go away, all because I couldn't handle constant flirtation in front of me with the object of my desire. Yeah, I'm too sensitive, I should have gotten over this ordeal a long time ago, and I really need to grow up. But Marianne needs to grow up as well if she really thinks hers were the only justifiably hurt feelings that day. One joke, a glare in her direction, it's over. But several jokes including a really extended one about marriage over a period of what, twenty minutes? The brain can't pick itself up so easily after that one. But I will take the blame, and suffer this insult quietly. Hopefully she will forget this incident as quickly as she forgot her fifteen-page paper this semester (yes I will make a cheap shot concerning her homework ethic because I was really sick of supporting somebody who would stress all fucking day long over an assignment and get maybe ONE PAGE written in a week and ask for constant extensions). I only wish my broken-ass mind would let me forget it so easily. I can't deny that I have problems, and I do need help. I just don't need anymore aggravation. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie.
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