Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Violent Suicidal Death

This summer I spent quite a bit of my time walking around my grandfather's tracts of land, thinking and exploring. It was a very stressful time for me, and those moments of peace really helped me and kept me sane.

While I was out running one day, down the gravel road between the horse fields, something dark stuck onto the barbed wire caught my eye. I slowed, and as I realized what it was, I thanked my lucky stars that I had my camera phone on me.

A june bug had flown directly into a barb on the fence. And I wondered, was it an accident, or an intent to kill itself like the birds that dive down towards your car as you are driving. What was so horrible and unbearable that this tiny bug felt his only solution was to end it, and end it so violently and completely? Perhaps it was a female with too many demanding eggs?

Or, like most people, the bug could have just been overwhelmingly stupid, and thus this death could qualify for entry into the Darwin Awards for his own species.

Whatever it was, the bug was dead and it made for a great picture!

Monday, February 23, 2009

The Miracle Of Birth - Nastiness

I came home from class on Friday to find my pregnant chihuahua sporting a red bubble hanging from her vulva. In labor and no movement. After a moment of freaking out, I rushed her to the Animal Hospital.

One emergency C-Section later, three Chiweenie pups were born. The three devils - Lilith, Legion, and Beelzebub, affectionately known as Beelz. Mother and pups are all fine and doing well.

The going rate for the pups will be $500 if anyone is interested? I have to pay off the medical bill.

Ready To Run

Today was one of those days. I woke up early, as usual, and when I felt the cold air hit my face, all I wanted to do was get in my car and drive.

I want to disappear. I want to go places where no one knows me, and I want to answer to nobody.

Everyone tells me to have patience, that I am almost there. All I want is to be gone.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Empty Mail Box

I am still waiting on two of my W2's from last year. I cannot file my income taxes and get my much needed tax return until people stop sucking and do what they are paid to do. I have called both companies. I have complained. I have given them my current name and address repeatedly. Nothing.

Legally, those documents should have been in my hands by the end of January. Now the end of February nears, and my anger starts to grow.

On the plus side, I did receive my new nose decorations yesterday.


Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Guess Who This Reminds Me Of!!!

Ew. How close can you get to someone without being TOO close?

A Slippery Slope

It was amazing to her how quickly the hunger pangs left her mind and stomach. You would think that no food except for liquid and her multi-vitamin would leave her starving, no energy. But the opposite was true. It seemed that the less food she had in her stomach gave her more energy, a happier feeling all around. But the crash was just that much worse once she finally allowed some morsel of food to pass her lips.

She knew she was getting worse. She had started recording her weight again. Watching those numbers daily, punishing herself if an increase happened in the slightest bit. Frustrated when there was no movement at all, and ecstatic if a pound or two fell away. It had been a long time since she had been this compulsive about food and weight. At least seven years, the first time she had lost fifty pounds in three months. She had been able to stop herself then, before she got sick, before anyone noticed she had a problem. She could do it again.

She just wanted to see the numbers drop. She hated the fact that her body image was so tied to what should be an insignificant number. And she was afraid. Afraid that everyone was right, and that she would never be happy with herself.

She thought about one of the only Barbies she had ever had. It had long dark hair, like hers, and big green eyes, also like hers. Her aunt said it looked just like her, if only she could drop the weight and act a little more feminine. No one likes an ugly boyish girl, dear... You'll be fine if you can just change yourself.

She had taken that to heart. Something innocently said from an aunt to a niece. Something the aunt probably did not even remember, and she could not get it out of her head. She wanted to rip it away, all of the cut downs, all of the dirty looks, all of the whispers from friends and family. She wanted to wind back time and have the young her tell them to FUCK OFF and leave her be.

Damage done now. Too late.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Apartment Life

When I first moved out on my own, it was to a cramped yet slightly cozy dorm room, with a wild room mate who thought that the desk separating our sides of the room was enough of a barrier to enjoy loud sex with the numerous guys she brought home. Oh how many times did I feign sleep in that room. Eventually, the creek of the mattress and the erotic moans of pleasure were my lullabies, and I would fall right to sleep.

At the end of the year, I was eager to move into my new apartment with three of my friends. It was exciting. We went out with each other at night, made dinner together, watched movies together, everything... together. Basically we were playing house. Unfortunately, none of us are close anymore, as living with friends (at least for petty girls) becomes the death of the friendship.

And so I again moved into my own little apartment. All by my lonesome. Except for my faithful canine companion (who will soon pop like a scene out of Alien). And it was great. I loved it. Things happened though, I made some very bad choices, my life was partly ruined, and I'm just now pulling it back together.

I am now once again in an apartment with room mates, and I loathe it with every inch of my being. I hate being in such close proximity with two other people every day of my life. I hate not being able to walk naked out of my apartment. And most of all - I HATE APARTMENTS!
I cannot walk outside without seeing people. I hear people through my walls at times. People park in my parking spot. The spots aren't necessarily assigned, but I claim this one as it is on an edge and directly in front of my door. Seems logical to me. Mine. Don't park there.

Basically, I do not like other people. Anyone. I prefer to be alone, and only interact with other humans when forced to do so. There are some people I tolerate (such as my beloved room mate) and other people I love being around (My Demon), but if I were to be locked away in solitary confinement for the rest of my days, I would thank my lucky stars.

I want a house. And not just any house. I want a secluded house, designed and decorated to my taste. I dream about this house. I daydream about this house. Hell, I even masturbate to this house. I want a goddamn house so I can move out of my goddamn apartment and be free from all the rigmarole that goes along with apartment living. It is an awful existence, and I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.

Fuck apartments.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

A Day In The Life Of An Exhibitionist

Today as I exited my car to go to class, my button up shirt somehow got caught on the door of my car, ripping open and exposing my bra and chest to the world. And by world, I mean the few guys and girls standing around in the parking lot.

Was I mortified? No. Not at all. In fact, for a brief few moments, I thought about shaking the girls around a bit. But as I am attempting to enter the professional world, I feigned modesty and closed my shirt.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Hidden Envy

"Look at her. God, she's so skinny. She won't be around for much longer." The two girls I sat with whispered to me about the obviously anorexic girl walking by us.

"I know. She works out constantly. I see her running every day. I doubt she even weighs 70 pounds." It was true. Even with the shirt and sweater she was wearing, you could see her bones protruding out of her skin. Her clothes basically hung from her. She was a wraith. I wanted to be just like her.

My companions turned to me, expecting to find my agreement. So I complied.

"Yes, she looks so unhealthy. Someone needs to help her." Inside I was so jealous of how thin she was, how bony she looked. I wanted to look like that, too. Just staring at her I felt all the fat on my body, and all I could think about was shedding it somehow. Anyhow. Anyway. Maybe I needed to be helped, too.

My one comment was enough to keep them going. Until they began discussing eating disorders in general. My heart rate increased. I always know someone will suspect my secret. I pressed my lips together and stared at my hands folded on the table, listening to them chatter.

"Anorexia is where you starve yourself, right? And bulimia is where you puke?" Such simple explanations, ones that don't even begin to cover the topic.

"Yeah, that's right. I can't even imagine making myself throw up. I hate doing that." Again they looked to me.

You can force yourself to do anything.

I stared back at them and shook my head from side to side. "You'd have to be crazy to do that."

If only they knew how true my words were.

Pretty Fly For A Rabbi

Around 5:00 AM today, I was en route between the boro and my apartment. I was dangerously sleepy, and irritated, having left my demon almost 200 miles behind me warm in bed. Poor little Wednesday slept beside me in her kennel, and I envied her for this. I miss sleeping while someone else drives.

I came upon a semi as I neared my destination. I came upon many semis in the night, so I was not paying much attention to this one. UNTIL! I noticed, marked in the dirt on the back, a star of David.

Hmm... Don't see that usually.

Then, all along in the dirt around the star was writings in Hebrew. It was Jewish graffiti! So I started humming the Weird Al Offspring knock-off and giggled to myself.

Jewish gangsta rap. I love it.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Power Hungry

She flushed the toilet and hung her head in shame and disgust. She had promised she would not empty herself like that again. She had swore, and she had meant that promise. Meant it with everything that was inside of her, to do better, to be better, to work out her problems and anxieties without resorting to drastic measures. But not this time.

Like so many other times, she had lain in her bed, too tortured from her last meal to get up and go about her day. She lay there, writing in agony, not wanting to let her mind take control. Not wanting to look in the mirror and acknowledge the hideous beast that lingered there. The grotesque obese monster.

She cried as she walked to the bathroom, silent tears pouring down her face, knowing that this act that gave her control also took all of her power away. Closing and locking the door behind her, she turned on both faucets and stared at her face in the mirror. She hated herself.

The purging took an agonizingly long time. Her gag reflex had all but disappeared now, and her stomach refused to spasm and release her recently ingested food. She felt her nails scrape the soft tissue at the back of her throat, deep inside, and she knew soon the soreness would return, maybe even another infection. Her tongue was rough and her teeth rougher against her fingers, the familiar red marks would be there again.

She shook as she stood to clean herself, snot and spit dripping down her face from the effort, traces of vomit on the corner of her mouth and her right middle and index fingers. She shook from her exertion, but she felt the calm growing in her middle. She no longer had the weight of the food in her stomach, and she could breathe again.

Methodically, clinically, she washed her hands and face, rinsing her mouth, but careful not to swallow the water. She refused to weigh yet, afraid of another pound or half a pound adding itself to the already too high number. She would wait until tomorrow, after she had fasted and exercised tonight.

Returning to her room, she huddled back in her covers, regaining her strength. Soon she would put on music and exercise, burning off the calories she had not managed to regurgitate.

She smiled. She was back in control.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Pregnant Bellies Look Like A Drum

Day 43. Only 20 more days until she pops folks.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Everyone Likes Little Asian Girls!!

Punk Rock Chick

What is it about the Ramones, the Violent Femmes, Social Distortion,and other punk rock music that makes me want to get up and dance about my room? 80's rock does it for me too. And 70's. Actually, listening to the 70's music really makes me want to light up and stare at the ceiling.

I close my eyes, sing along, and jump up and down to the beat, shaking my ass and tossing my head and hair side to side. It's invigorating!

Of course, I'm doing it at 12:22, a little after midnight. Another sleepless night for me, as I practice my stripper moves. Do you know that's an actual fitness regime now? Exotic and pole dancing? Fucking sign me up!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


“Shit, its cold.” The whispered words formed perfect puffs in the frigid air. Stamping his feet and pulling his coat tighter, the owner of the expletive attempted to warm his extremities. Three hours. Three hours he had stood in the cold by this door. Waiting on the arrival. Waiting on his chance, his opportunity, his big break. But nothing yet. Just the silent night creeping around him, sealing the cold even closer to his body. There had been no sounds at all. Even the noises from the streets 20 floors below could not be heard from the roof of this building. Strange. It was the first time since his sojourn to the city that he had heard the silence of a moonlit night.

He remembered lying awake at night when he was younger. He never had been able to fall asleep like a normal child. He would lie there until four or five in the morning, waiting for his eyelids to grow heavy, listening to the darkness. Even the cicadas, the frogs, the owls, would grow quiet at these times. It was only in this complete and total silence that he could finally find slumber. The first bird of the morning, greeting the sun, would raise him from his bed. He always awoke before his family. But he would stay in his room, pretending to sleep, until he heard his mother pad down the hall into the kitchen to start breakfast.

Monday, February 2, 2009


I was on horseback goin' through the mountains of a night.

Goin' through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on goin'. Never said nothin' goin' by. He just rode on past... and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin' fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. 'Bout the color of the moon.

And in the dream I knew that he was goin' on ahead and he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there.

And then I woke up.



I love snow. God. It's gorgeous. I opened the door this morning, expecting the rather warm day predicted on the news. But no, a winter wonderland was before me. So quiet, so stifled. So cold. Everything is serene and silent.

And then, I gracefully slid down the hill on my ass, succeeding in getting completely wet and muddy, as I walked to my car.