the dyke in all of us

a few months ago when i was driving to idaho, i picked up a hitch-hiker on my way out of town. guy was a hoot, been tripping & drinking & smoking for a few days straight and it showed. we were past waitsburg by the time he noticed my hair was bright magenta. exclaimed on it like an old friend who'd last seen you four months ago and blond would. 'oh!' he kept fixating on this bicycle he'd crashed in a field in hermiston during his binge, and conversation was erratic at best. he'd nod off and then come to on a subject out of the blue. these things happen when you go full tilt boogie for days and then hitch home the night before you have to go back to work.

anywho, fella gave me a pair of sunglasses he'd found at some point in his adventure. some of those wrap-around shiney black fly glasses popular with the alternative jocks. ive kept them in my car for a lack of any other protection against glaring rays at dusk, or dawn as it may be.

so this morning im driving my happy ass to work, sun's in my eyes, so of course i put 'em on. as im driving i catch a look at myself in the mirror, wearing overalls with a snug black wife-beater, hairy pits on display, with my newly short hair and these bad-ass butch frames. if the hair was just spiked up and my muscle tone a bit better, we'd be talking archtypical bad-ass dyke here.

so ive decided i need a picture of this. my bull dyke picture. i can keep it around to scare the boys ;) but really, it was just too perfect.

and what really amazes me, with all the shit going on in my life, that needs to be done, running around in my head, there is still room for these random contemplations. which of course leads to thoughts on all the other things that ive thought on or found time for, while neglecting so many things that overwhelm me. but that is a whole other long tangent, which surely wont make me feel any better about myself. so ill leave it at that for now.

im packing in

so ive decided i fucking quit and all that jazz

ive spent an emotional roller coaster of a day scheming at how to get out of everything.

and im packing in. the way i figure i can be out of here end of september to mid october. i can celebrate my birthday in another state, or country for that matter. just out. running, moving, anything. icant take it anymore, and im going to stop pretending. im going to do my best to tie things up like a normal person would, and then im calling it quits.

so any suggestions on places to go, offers to stay, etc, etc, lemme know & i might stop by. but be warned - i might stop by.

for the evening, i will again retire with my gin and book, and work on pretending everything else doesnt exist. thats about all i can handle.

fuck

145 in the afternoon, and i just drove ten miles to work a little bit drunk.

im pretty sure this is a bad thing.

i resign

im tired of even trying
im fucking done
i cant do this shit
it never fucking works, nothing ever does

is "bad luck, born loser" stamped in my genes somewhere; is it on my aura? is "bend me over & fuck me" tattooed on my lower back and i just never noticed? i mean seriously, its not just the emotional issues and possible bi-polar mood swings that are making these things happen. some of this crap is external, and it happens just a little too opportunely.

im putting on my tin-foil hat, goddamnit, theyre all out to get me. lets trip wire the door.

because i am simply not cut out to be a responsible adult. ive given my best half-assed effort, and it keeps exploding in my face. i cant finish a goddamn thing i start, ive combed half my hair, and there is no goddamn reason to come home.

every fucking step up, every time ive started to collect my wits again, it all comes crashing back down. i know ive bitched about this before. online, in person (when i can manage to leave my house, though theres no place to go out to), in my journal, wherever. everytime it happens. its probably gotten old and whiney, i know its blatently and annoyingly self-depracative. i dont care, though, it just serves to the point
THAT IT JUST KEEPS HAPPENING,
EVERY FUCKING TIME.

and i dont understand. i hate to fall back on that cliche "why me?" shit, but seriously, why me? what the fuck did i do that was so karmically wrong? or is this fate taking its hand, proving that it is a laid out game, that it is all pre-determined, and good-fucking-luck trying to change some shit, bitch *this being the point where fate spits in yr face after kicking you while yr down*

"it hasnt been your day, your week, your month, or even your year." fuck that it just plain hasnt even been my life. i dont like my life, i dont like where it is, i dont like where is going, or has been giong for years, and nothing i do derails it or sends it in another direction. it just always seems to inadvertantly unearth another clod of dirt that sends me crashing down a little lower.

i am completely overwhelmed by all of this, not that that stops or slows a goddamn thing. there's always more. and i cant fucking deal with any of it. sure, ill buck up and my mood will swing dramatically toward that false hope, and for a while ill think i can, but something else will happen. it always fucking does. time is speeding by, im not even going nowhere, im just going down, sans handbasket. if i move to europe will my shit credit follow me do you think? or i could always let my brother recruit me for the army, thatll fix things, right? *shit*

theres no fucking escape. theres no crawling out of this skin, this life. i wonder what will go wrong next, when i least expect, have built up my hope that i can do it? i just want to leave it all behind me. the irony to me is that i was HAPPIER when i was flaky and fucked shit off. when i'd hit the road for months at a time, im healthier and happier, if more destitute & fucked in general. and i keep getting frustrated with myself, because i keep trying to get my shit together, to be that responsible adult im supposed to be, and i cant do it. i am simply incapable. and it makes me unhappy.

im supposed to have all this potential, thats what they always said. well, why the fuck didnt anyone ever show me how to use it? why the hell didnt anyone ever tell me how its done?


im done.
i quit.

fuck fuck fuck

waaaaaaaaaaah!

so a certain un-named friend of mine ;) employed "chinese finger torture" on her boyfriend tonight, in an attempt to extricate the truth.

yes, thats right she "POKED his forehead while holding him down."

needless to say, when she told me, i just started rolling. though i must admit i quite like the idea, and in the unlikely event that i have a boyfriend again (not in the foreseeable future anyway), i think i may have to employ this in times of distress.

if nothing else, it should bring a swift end to any fight as i'd probably collapse laughing in the midst of attempting it.

yep, i like it. its just too good.



"in search of truth, and some pointy boots.
and maybe a few snack crackers."

toasty

i am drunk again.
that is all.

s. youve got to write email to yahooty, but ive got to just post random ideas that even if i could artculate them i couldnt manage to type them.

what am i going to do when you leave, itllall seem much more boring.

g'night.

and for what its worth im pretty sure by now you must have made the drive home & gotten into pj's... im sitting her out of pure orneryness to stay up later. so there.

a cconversation that whatever few people who read will get, not even sure if i do. ok, its 557 am, i can go to bed. oi.

group hug

from grouphug:

564854794
i hate myself. is that really true? all this time i thought i loved myself - at times too much. what happened? where is that me that i used to really like? or was that the me i thought i was before i got to know myself?

somehow that hit very close to home for all too many evenings of sitting around ragging on myself and going just a little nuts.

sterile hair

at this point my head and shoulders must be so completely free of any possible germs and ickies that a neurosurgeon could perform surgury. it's ridiculous.

for most of last night, and again this morning, ive been repeatedly soaking my hair in isopropyl alcohol - drenched, with a safeway bag tied around my head and blueish floods running down my shoulders - to strip out the green dye. its kinda warm and tingly, and its working. i can actually see my natural color on the back of my head, though the top is being a bit more resistant.

again, MY NATURAL COLOR its so novel, its almost like the thrill of dying a new color. im thinking that instead of the original plan to get most of the green out & then dye a normal color, i might just try to strip it all (or as much as possible) out & go au natural for a bit. except for a very select few old and dear friends & family, no one i know has ever even seen that, i barely remember it.

who'd've thunk?

more on drunken

you know its bad when you cant even manage to type one sentence accurately. holy crap.

unexpected. thats what i was trying to say.

im pretty sure last night was out of hand, and im even more sure i should never have that many types of alcohol in that short a period of time anytime soon.

though really all & all it was nice. and fun.

and now for the long hangover at work. hooray! oi vei.

drunken kisses

well that was not what expected.

hmm.

insomnia sucks ass

i have to get up in just a little over 3 hours, why the fuck cant i fall asleep?!

i've been laying in bed for over an hour: nothing.

i'd be better off if i'd whooped it up & gotten drunk. unless i get totally trashed, i usually fall asleep easier & get up earlier.

is life trying to make me an alcoholic? wtf?

grrrrr.

why is sleep such a hard thing? why dont those damn useless wheels stop turning?

the worst of it: i actually had a full day, i am tired, i still cant sleep.



"who needs sleep, oh youre never gonna get it,
who needs sleep, tell me what's that for?"