Thursday, December 31, 2009

The end of a decade

     I don't have time right this moment to type out everything I'd like, but I do have a lot of ideas planned to write about to conclude the year 2009 and begin the new decade. I just glanced at the time and realized it's 10 PM, and a tsunami of . . . something just hit me. I cannot describe it in one word, and multiple words wouldn't do it the justice it needs.
     One thing I do know is that by the time the next decade rolls over, I'll have a Ph. D in sociology, maybe even a book published if I work hard enough and people enjoy my work. Another thing I know is how truly terrifying that is.

     So this is it, my last writing of 2009. Deep breaths.

"Find what you are afraid of, face it, and then you won't be afraid of it anymore." - Marilyn Manson
1998, Hit Parader Magazine
Mechanical Animals
(Courtesy of

10 Words You Need To Stop Misspelling

     I have wanted to make a post like this for a very long time, but I didn't want to come off as a bitch, and especially not a crazy one for caring this much about spelling and grammatical errors. I probably care a little too much, but I am a firm believer in if you do not speak your first language in near flawless tongue, you have a serious issue you need to address. If you cannot speak your language, it would be extremely difficult, nearly impossible truthfully, for me to trust you with anything because you've shown me you cannot even be bothered to take the time and put in the extra effort to perfect the skill humans use the most— speech.
     I strongly believe that nothing less than an "A"—whether a perfect "A" or not, no one will always be perfect—grade in your first language is acceptable. If you're not from the United States, an "A" is a perfect grade.
     It's silly, as I've written and re-read this, I am worried there are errors in its structure, and I'm sure there is. I find it really hilarious when you write or speak about correcting someone else, but you yourself are wrong. Oh well, at least it's for a good cause, haha.

Monday, December 28, 2009

The lowest of lows, this is no high end

I don't have anything to say, except I want a
gaping "O" in my arm right now, just as hollow as me.

I am as hollow as...

         "Pray until your number, 
         Asleep from all your pain, 
         Your apple has been rotting 
         Tomorrow's turned up dead."
    I created a playlist to listen to while I fall asleep at night.
    I don't sleep at night though.
    I begin sleeping with the world begins waking. At least the east coast, the hardest working coast in the United States because they're the first to arrive at their cubicles.
    The first of everything always has to work the hardest, the first is the revolution whether you believe me or not.

        "I have it all and 
        I have no choice but to,
        I'll make everyone pay 
        and you will see."
    I never thought I'd have to say I've become what I hated because I ever desperately tried not to ever provide myself reason to. I never wanted to be the type of person that spun on an axis of music constantly consuming them. I wanted to believe I didn't need anything. I didn't always need my idols, not even the ones I trusted most to influence me. I don't know if I'm wrong or right, or what my opinion even is, or how I could have clarity in so much confusion.
    Being an influence is such a great honor, and not because of the respect it requires, but because of the trust it requires. Trust is so foreign to me, maybe that's why influential people are so special on their Alexis-crafted pedestals.

        "Peel off all those eyes 
        and crawl into the dark."
    Well, it is 6:06 and it's past Christmas morning.
    Our tree was torn down no less than twenty-four hours after we opened our gifts. It was stuffed back into it's box a day later, and just a day after that it had been pushed back into the attic for another year. That's "family" for you (but that's not even what this really is, here), that's our tradition, that's our love within our home.
    The tree is like my spine, complete with loop installation for easy hanging away, and not the model desired by Meiwes.

        "(I am so tangled in my 
        sins that I cannot escape)."
    I never thought I'd escape the hell I lived in, and now I know I never did.
    Lies have watered me, and lies don't water a flower. An unwatered flower is a dead flower.
    The torturous years plucked at my petals, with every body part not my own entering my body or space dropped away another tendril of my innocence. Everything has been lost in the dirt, but a weed comes from a dead flower.
    With no where else to go from my place in the dirt, I grew into a weed. A strong weed, cut down so many times, sometimes the weed-eater was even held by my own bloodied hands. My wrists dripped, begging to be a dead flower instead of a strong weed. You see, a truly dead flower becomes a blossoming bouquet. As for me, I am a forever a weed, and when I die I will be a weed then too, only finally my roots will be destroyed once and for all. I could leave a patch in the yard, I could not.

        "Someone had to go this far."
    Lately I've been reliving past feelings. Not experiences like deja-vu, making me question a past life or if I have arms broken in a casket, but I know I do.
    I feel so numb, but I've been wearing shorts all night. It's 55 degrees outside, but this isn't what I mean. That is just temperature, it's not numbness, and I've never seen snow so I wouldn't know what a pleasant numbness feels like, but I know this wasn't it.

        "We're on the other side, 
        the screen is us and we're t.v."
    I'm back in my square bedroom with shit brown carpet. I suppose this might be deja-vu.
    I have posters on the walls, Britney Spears and Spice Girls, and my bed isn't against the wall it will be in a few years. I will hide under that bed, clutching my newly abandoned dog's ratty pink leash. She never had a collar, no one ever cared enough to keep it on her. No one cared much about anything except whatever was going on in their own worlds. My father took pills out of the cabinet everyday. My mother typed away at the computer, cheating on our family. My brother threw his bottles against the wall and stained it with formula.
    I hated everyone under that roof, and I justified my hate. No one saved me. No one expressed love towards me. I was nothing. Absolutely nothing, before I truly became nothing when the first uninvited dick graced my lips. I wish I had considered a beheading.

        "Pinch the head off, 
        collapse me like a weed."
    As I said before, I'm back in my room with brown carpet; it might as well be dirt.
    I'm shivering, I'm not cold. The blankets are just there to envelop me, to consume me, "Please, please swallow me whole. Let me disappear. Let me die, please just let me die."
    For years I believed if I concentrated long enough on the suicide of my existence--the most devastating of suicides--I would simply disappear into thin air. I thought I could will my physical body away, but I realized I couldn't soon after my first few attempts. Instead, I dissociated from my body so frequently I hardly have any childhood memories. Dissociation has left me as cloudy as a tank of dead pigs, and like dead pigs I have maniacal scratches.

        "I was born into this 
        Everything turns to shit."
    Crying is holding hands with trembling, and if I died they would have died holding hands. "There's no one here to save ourselves."
    My dad is telling me he's leaving, only for a night. He's visiting a friend.
    "Her name is ------. She has a son. He likes Zelda just like you, and has the guide. She said he'll let you borrow it."
    I never shared my dad on the playground, and now I'm sharing him with a stranger's miss at the opportunity to abort. She is responsible for destroying my family and the image of my father that I have been supplied with, and I am completely sure that she would have never passed the test required for permission to procreate. The test should include a psychiatric evaluation.

        "You've poisoned all of your 
        children to camouflage your scars."
    I cried and I cried, and still my dad left that night, and multiple nights following it at intervals I cannot remember. I don't know the women, I don't know their names, their faces, or their children's Zelda walk-throughs. I know if I knew anything it would be more violent than this has to be.

    This event, these memories among new ones manifested itself tonight. It replayed flawlessly. I was paralyzed for ten minutes, at the minimum. I don't know how long I laid here before I could move again, before I could write this. I had to write this, for you.

        "The world in my hands, 
        there's no one left to 
        hear you scream."
    I don't know if my father ever realized that at the time, to me, he was the one responsible for our family's destruction. It was never her, I knew she hated me from the moment I was conceived. (Despite my lack of memory, how could you not when you're in the womb of a sociopath.) I was used to her hatred. I wasn't used to him leaving me so abruptly, especially when I cried. Especially when I really cried, and begged. I hoped he let me hate him then for a bigger reason, I just hope he has some plans with real structure.
    Really, I just wanted someone to save me. I wanted someone to shake me violently and ask me why I smashed text books into my head on a daily basis when no one bothered to look at me. I wanted someone to ask me why my play dates were spent in my closet, but I wanted it to be someone that didn't already know.
    All I wanted as a child was to be saved, and instead I got an over-abundance of truth while my other half happily lives in ignorance. Good for him.

        "There's no one left for you."

    Despite my many resentments, I hope no one ever touches him. I hope no one ever scathes him. A lot of people deserve miserable lives, but not him. He doesn't deserve an award of survival, but he doesn't deserve pain and devastation. He doesn't deserve to be a weed. He doesn't deserve unwelcome wings.
    I hope his mother dies before he learns the truth, but mostly I hope with all my heart that when she is a dead flower she becomes the most beautiful of bouquets.

    But only for my brother.

        "Pray unto the splinters, 
        pray unto your fear 
        Pray your life was just a dream 
        The cut that never heals 
        Pray now baby, 
        pray your life was just a dream."

        The Playlist-
        1. Kinderfeld
        2. Untitled
        3. Godeatgod
        4. Man That You Fear
        5. (Untitled)

        "You are [I, am]
        as hollow as the 'O' in God."
    I'm crying as I finish this. It has been exactly twelve hours since I wrote everything prior.
    I feel like I'm on a continuous cycle of breakdowns with a destiny of ultimately sobbing into my pillow, my hands, a towel like my biological mother used to make me do so she could sleep peacefully, anything to drown out my screams. I am so dismantled. No child deserves to be destroyed like this. No child. If "God" is creating these children so others can learn from them, fuck your God.

    Pushing through is my only option. I must remain strong for the greater number, to accomplish the greater good. My head might not be as high as I've held it in the past, but I'm doing my very best, I'm doing more than trying. Eventually my head will be held even higher than ever before. All I'm asking of you, whoever you are, is help me survive the bottom.

 Note- All quotations are lyrics of the song "Man That You Fear", except for the last one, which is from "Untitled". If anything describes how I feel today, it's the excerpts I've chosen.

2009 Surveys

 I love doing these, pass them around. :)

Survey One 
Where did you begin 2009?
I was in St. Augustine with my dad.

What was your status by Valentine’s Day?
I was taken, but barely.

Were you in school anytime this year?

How did you earn your money?
Lulz. By asking my parents? And selling stuff online.

Did you have to go to the hospital?
Yeah, rode in an ambulance for the first time too.

Did you have any encounters with the police?

Would you relive 2009 over and over again?
I don't want to relive anything except seeing Manson again.

What did you purchase that was over $1000?

Did you know anybody who got married?
Sort of, my ex's sister.

Did you know anyone who passed away?
Was that this year or last? I don't want to remember.

Did you know anyone who had a baby?
Yeah, disgusting. Grow a little before you start pushing things out of your immature vagina. Seriously. Wait a few years till you're fully grown.

Did you move anywhere?
To my mom's, then back to my dad's.

What concerts/shows did you go to?
Marilyn Manson (Mayhem Fest), LMFAO, pretty much it.

Do you still have the same job as you did in 2008?

Has anyone betrayed you in 2009?
Probably not. I'm not easily betrayed, I don't trust anyone.

Where do you live now?
My dad's house? Hah, Orlando.

Describe your birthday.
It was amazing because I made it so. My party was at Rainforest Cafe, with all my friends.

What’s one thing you thought you’d never do but did in 2009?
Take Nyquil again. Try to cut myself again.

What has been your favorite moment?
Seeing Manson again, and getting into my first fist fight before him.

What’s something you learned about yourself?
I am more affected by my past than I thought I was, and I have a lot to work through.

Any new additions to your family?
Nope, not really. Unless you count my uncle knocking up his third baby momma again.

What was your best month?

I haven't had a best month.

Were you in a relationship this year?
No, long distance isn't a relationship.

New friend?

Favorite night out?
I've had too many good nights to pick just one.

Would you say you’ve changed since the beginning of this year?
Tremendously, I'm glad.

Do you think 2010 will be better or worse?
Better, every year will always be better than the last.

Did your style change in 2009?
Yeah, I don't look so butch or careless.

Do you think you showed your parents enough respect this year?
They got the respect they deserved.

Where will you end 2009 at?
With Dave? Or at Kaffa's? Not sure.

Survey Two

Stayed single almost the whole year?
The whole year, long distance drama doesn't count.

Were involved in something you'll never forget?
A Manson show, holla.

Dyed your hair?
A few times, then Stacey did it.

Came close to losing your life?
Not really, no.

Saw one of your favorite bands/artists live?
Yes, Marilyn Manson :)


Did you meet any new friends this year?
Yes, Sarah :)

Did you hate anyone?
I did and still do, my hate is justified.

Do you have any regrets when it comes to your friendships?
Sort of, I wouldn't really call them regrets because I don't want to label them with a word so carelessly tossed around and ridiculed. I kind of wish some things hadn't happened with a particular friend though, but I think it brought us closer.


Did you have a cake?
I had a Star Trek cake. :D

Did you get any presents?
Yes, I got an iPod Touch. That's what I remember because I just saw a picture of me opening it yesterday on my new digital photo frame, haha.


Did you change at all this year?
Yes I did.

Did you change your style?
Yes, I don't dress as butch or careless.

Were you in school?

Did you do anything illegal?
Today I drove without my permit, I forgot it and didn't realize it until I was home.

Did you go on any vacations?
A lot. Myrtle Beach, Savannah, Gainesville, Greenville, Cocoa Beach, and I think Satellite Beach was this year too.

Would you change anything about yourself now?
I would, but I won't only add to my abilities to deal with my past.

2009: WRAP UP

Was 2009 a good year?
Great, until the end. It's still okay though, it's just gotten very hard, but it's never anything I cannot ultimately handle.

Do you think 2010 will top 2009?
Yes, college!


Kissed on a car?
I haven't been kissed at all.

Had your heart broken?
What's heart break feel like?

Done something you've regretted?
Not really.

Painted a picture?
Probably. Going to paint after this.

Wrote a poem?
I don't write poetry.

Ran a mile?

Told someone you were busy when you weren't?

IN 2009 I.....

Broke a promise?

I don't lie often.

Disappointed someone close?
Not my fault if I did, so "you" doesn't apply here.

Hid a secret?
I try to reveal all my secrets.

Pretended to be happy?
I don't have patience for that, probably not hard.

Slept under the stars?

Kept your new years resolution?
I did actually.

Forgot your new years resolution?

Met someone who changed your life?

Changed your outlook on life?

Learned something new about yourself?
Yes, that I need to gain tools for dealing with my past.

Tried something you normally wouldn't try and liked it?
Sushi, but it was KFC rolls.

Made a change in your life?
Yes, gladly.

Found out who your true friends were?
I most definitely did.

Met great people?

Stayed up til sunrise?

Cried over the silliest things?
I have, like the show Pokemon.

Had friends who were drifting away from you?

Spent most of your money on food?
Not really.

Liked more than 5 people at the same time?
Never. I haven't liked anyone this year, either.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

 [Warning: Contains spoilers.]

I really should have predicted the ending.
All along I related so closely. For example, Charlie's frequent speculation of his psychiatrist's constant questioning of his childhood really hit home.
Why couldn't I place it?
Why couldn't I see where it was all going?
I don't really have an answer, except maybe all victims are weaved through and through like a basket of mystery, seemingly like a person that tries too hard to be something they're not but in reality they are and that's the saddest part, and often they are like wallflowers. Rooms and rooms, fields and fields, of wallflowers.

wallflower [wawl-flou-er]
1. a person who, because of shyness, unpopularity, or lack of a partner, remains at the side at a party or dance.

I realized there is perks of being a wallflower, of being observant when others cannot possibly be as much as you because you're subconsciously blocking out the past, which naturally leaves extra room for the present, and the future. It also leaves room for constant, unexplained panic. Something I hate.
Too much of something is dangerous to a damaged person.
I shouldn't have an episode just from losing my wallet. I don't care about the money, I never have on the various occasions of loss.
I have always cared about losing something I'm not expected to lose, like my permit or my library card. I guess that's how I perceived my innocence, or my virginity to oral sex. It wasn't supposed to be lost, it was supposed to be given. But it wasn't.
The worst feeling is losing something someone I love gave me. I'm grateful I can't think of any extreme instances off the top of my head right now, hopefully that means I haven't lost much. I think if I ever lost something expensive or really meaningful, I'd seriously consider killing myself, or at least return to self mutilation at the minimum. The sad part is, is that a few items in my possession have this label that could lead me back, or lead me to death. I know I’m labeling these things as “trigger items”, something I want to work past.  It's good to care about your belongings, especially if they were a gift, but not to the degree of suicide if they are lost.

I remember once when I was a child I was at the beach with my mom, who I then still considered my aunt because my biological mother was still around ruining my childhood and filling my head with lies.
I was swimming with my mom in the ocean, and she asked me to hold her snorkeling mask. Somewhere along the way, I lost it because I was holding it under the water and not thinking about it. I didn't even realize it had floated away until she asked for it back. She was really disappointed, and that crushed me.
For years that memory has plagued me, it's probably something I should talk about to someone considering how much it haunts me. It seems so silly though, so irrational, to worry over something I know she's sub-consciously forgotten.
I'm talking about the same woman who told me that if I totaled her car learning to drive, she wouldn't care, she could always get a new one in the most extreme case. Material things can always be replaced in her world, and I completely understand that, yet still this loss bothers me to this day well over a decade later.
That event—along with other things lost, or rather, stolen—makes me never want to lose anything ever again. I never want to have to see that expression of disappointment in telling someone I lost something they gave me, or trusted me with.

Going back to The Perks, my best friend in the entire world—well, one of the two, love you Bianca—Dave gave me this book for Christmas, saying he knew I'd love it because he had read it before. I tried not to think much of it because I know how non-chalant Dave is about things, but now that I discovered The Perks's ending, I cannot resist wondering why he suggested it to me, why I could personally relate, especially because of a passage I'll quote at the end of this blog post.
The book affected me profoundly, and I wonder if he knew it would in the sense I'm quietly referring to. Regardless of whether he'll ever know how much it affected me or how much I related on a level I desperately needed to, I'll always know he knows why I could have, and that's all I’ll ever need. I need someone else to know my pain, my suffering, but that someone has to be someone I'm not paying at hourly intervals, someone that's not dating me, or someone that respects me rather than fears me.

More than anything, I think this book taught me more about how grateful I am for my friends that really know my vulnerabilities.
I have had many best friends in my life, but right now, at this particular time in my life, I have the very best because of the things I've let them know.

     It's like if I blamed my aunt Helen, I would have to blame her dad for hitting her and the friend of the family that fooled around with her when she was little. And the person that fooled around with him. And God for not stopping all this and things that are much worse. And I did do that for a while, but then I just couldn't anymore. Because it wasn't going anywhere. Because it wasn't the point.
     I'm not the way I am because of what I dreamt and remembered about my aunt Helen. That's what I figured out when things got quiet. And I think that's very important to know. It made things feel clear and together. Don't get me wrong. I know what happened was important. And I needed to remember it. But it's like when my doctor told me the story of these two brothers whose dad was a bad alcoholic. One brother grew up to e a successful carpenter who never drank. The other brother ended up being a drinker as bad as his dad was. When they asked the first brother why he didn't drink, he said that after he saw what it did to his father, he could never bring himself to even try it. When they asked the other brother, he said that he guessed he learned how to drink on his father's knee. So I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we com from, we can still choose where we go from there.
- The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Saturday, December 26, 2009

"Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others."

     I am so overwhelmingly happy because now I have seen the truth.
     I don't believe in things happening for a reason. I wholeheartedly believe things simply occur, and people staple a reason to events to provide comfort for themselves. They're not weak, they just haven't been enlightened. Hopefully this paragraph will do that for a few more people, I've affect some in the past. My point is this realization could be perceived as this concept, but don't confuse yourself willingly.

     My current dilemma is this: I no longer have a television in my room because I got rid of it when I repainted and reorganized a month ago. I didn't want to make room for it, and I realized a television in the bedroom is a disturbance (thanks mom). I reflected on my television use prior to redecorating, and discovered it was always on, but it was never my main focus. I would use the computer—often my desktop and laptop simultaneously—and have the television blaring a repeating Roseanne DVD. It constantly rumbled around with my focus, rendering it counter-productive to have both within the same four walls. Or in my room's case, five.

     This decision means I cannot watch television unless it's in the living room. Since we've gotten a new television a few weeks ago, the living room is always occupied by my father's girlfriend on a nightly basis, for the most part. This is frustrating; we don't get along and we never speak as casually as offering each other a simple greeting. We're so below that at this point.
     This situation places me in my room from 5 PM, sometimes 5:30 PM if I'm lucky and she works a little later, until as late as 11 PM most nights. My ultimate choices may seem extreme, but avoiding her as much as possible and taking meals in my room is the price I gladly pay so I don't face the possibility of a relapse triggered by her verbal abuse. Or something much, much worse, fighting with my dad. (I hope you see the meaning in what I just said.)

     Christmas was yesterday of course, and my brother got a Wii. This now also places him in the sport of fighting for the use of the television. (I'm hoping they move the Wii to his room like it's been mentioned.) His ammo of reasoning is he has to go to bed early, or that he doesn't get to play games during the week due to his studies being so poor in grade point average. I'm not going to go into how this is no one's fault but his own because it's already an obvious idea.

     Tonight after I went to the doctors, my dad, brother, and I went to Best Buy and Target to spend some gift card money. I guess we mainly went for me (even though it felt like the complete opposite, I was alone the majority of both excursions), since my brother had already been out shopping all day with my dad's girlfriend. At Best Buy I bought Marilyn Manson's Guns, God, and Government Live in L.A. on Blu-Ray, and asked my dad if he wanted to watch it later tonight. He said no, probably not, because Kirk—my brother—would be playing his new game when we got home, and after, his girlfriend would be watching television late into the night (even though she has a television in her room, of course, but the story never changes regardless of the character).

     I'll be upfront about my immaturity— I was extremely disappointed, and besides what I'm about to mention, it's like an extra twist of the knife knowing I don't get to spend time with my dad because of someone else's selfishly thoughtless actions.
     I don't like having to stay up late just to be able to watch something on television—that is by that time on its second or third repeat of the night—like a pathetic rodent that hunts for food and mischief once everyone in the house is asleep. I suppose that's metaphorically how I feel, like a rat in constant hiding. If seen, I'm chased back into my hole with threats, shouting, etc., all the while trying to avoid the preset traps. I wish I was a mouse, because then no one would step on me.
     Solitude is my only safety.
     To remain safe and unscathed by others I have to be alone, and that has torn me apart for so long.

     Tonight I got to speculating though, probing the situation for glimmers of positivity.
I realized that when I am sheltering myself within my room, I have to do things besides watch television, play video games, or socialize.
     What do I do, you may wonder. Well for starters, I read, I write, I cite books, I research sociology, influences, films I haven't seen, and books I haven't read yet. I am forced into a creative cycle on a near daily basis, and that is my newly discovered relief. While the occupants of the living room are spending their time on wasteful activities, I am being productive, and my only reluctance is because sometimes I would rather be watching one of the films I've researched.

     In the end there's no reason to be angry.
     While they're watching movies (not films), reality television, or playing video games, I'm doing one or many of the aforementioned activities. I am grateful for this forced situation of productivity, I am no longer angry.
     In the end, I will be blossoming and they will be rotting.


     Honestly, I'm scared this decade is almost over.
     I remember being a child and looking at this poster of the United States that you're supposed to put all the new quarters in as they were issued. Looking at the dates of release in the bottom right corner and thinking of the furthest year away, 2008, I thought it would never come. I would daydream about what I would be like or how cool I would be. The idea of being old seemed to foreign, I suppose because it was.
     Mostly though, I remember wondering what I would know, what knowledge I would have obtained. Would I be as smart as I felt then? Would I be as powerful as what I felt was in store? What in the world would I have grown into?

     The strongest weed, is the answer I've stapled myself with. And I'm happy with that.
     I'd so much rather be the strongest weed than the weakest flower, Manson had it right with his new concepts regarding what changes in the mentality of victims of sexual abuse.

     I'm terrified, not because of the past, but because of the prospect of the future.
     If I haven't written a book worth the consideration of publishing within the next fifteen years—I'll accept a publishing company considering my story, but not publishing it because of its content, despite how unhappy I would make myself as a result—I'm killing myself, or at least making my existence dead to the world by doing something noble with similarities to a religious adventure of self-discovery, in a setting like wherever the Blair Witch was filmed. I don't deserve to exist if I'm not creating, and I'm sticking to my story. I'll rip my teeth out myself with the familiar pliers of my past if I can't find a witch to do it for me.

     Tonight, I got to thinking about Antichrist Superstar. I wondered how Manson felt in 2006 ten years after after the ground-breaking creation in 1996. I've created nothing except myself, and while Manson's been doing that all along, he's public about it. Me, not so much. I haven't worked hard enough just yet to publicize myself on par with his degree of extremity, so that's the pressure presented to get some serious shit done within the next decade.

     This decade is going to start off beautifully, in terms of creative freedom.
     In July of 210 I'll turn eighteen and start college soon after. A solid education will be my foundation. I am a firm believer in being able to fall back on degrees for respect— not a job. I need respect or fear for people to listen to me, and a Ph. D will deliver no doubt (in the very least, a lending hand to shuffle the boxes with me). Also, a formal education is my sole selfish desire.

     Work will never be my focus unless you count the work for others. I want others to be able to be Atheistic, thinking and reasoning, creative, productive human beings of society. I want more people like me.
     It is my purpose to share my struggles, suffering, pain, and I want to say sex only because of this— "As you are listening, I want you to know, that you're nothing but a screen that I project my images of suffering, sorrow, pain, sex in the brief glimmer of happiness I find in the misery of those who are sitting in the theater of which this screen exists." [Marilyn Manson. Doppelherz, 2003]

     We are so alike, and not because I chose to be. I used to try, I'll admit. I dressed in black, wore dark make-up, and dyed my hair black. However, our similarities lie in what we wish to do for the world (or what I perceive your beliefs on self purpose are), and as Gandhi so truthfully said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

     I love my fellow Saints.

"The aspiration
To save the world
Is a morbid phenomenon
Of today's youth."
-Marilyn Manson, Doppelherz 2003
(full-length video)

Friday, December 25, 2009


     No one will ever know the truth within this secret.
     I refuse to enlighten the world, like you refuse to enlighten me.

     I'll never be sure as to why those that are supposed to be hating me have tried contacting me this holiday to wish me well. The angry, ridiculous part of me yells convincing concepts such as, "They just want to mess with you, to get them back on your mind". Okay, sure conscience, that could be true. But they'd have to be thinking of me first, and that terrifies me.

     I've never been in love I've never been in love I've never been in love I've never been in love I've never been in love I've never been in love, but I know I loved you, I loved you so willingly. You ruined everything we could have become.

     The most important thing for you to remember however, is I am never going to be sorry.

Happy holidays everyone~!

     First of all, I want to say happy holidays, regardless of what you're celebrating. While I'm the type that gets The God Delusion (no one saw the irony in that except for me, until I pointed it out) for Christmas, I truly believe the world shouldn't need a holiday to love one another and wish good things upon fellow man. So as if it were any other day of the year, I hope today has treated you as wonderfully as you deserve.

     My family does celebrate Christmas, although non-religiously. Our holiday consists of gathering under one roof and spending time with each other after exchanging gifts, which is the smallest part of what matters to me today. From the honesty within my heart, the best part about today, and any other holiday or special occasion, is having both of my parents under one roof for an extended period of time. That means more to me than anything because it's a rarity, I live with my father and my mother is biologically my aunt, so I don't see both everyday.

      I am still sick today, but I woke up around 9:30 AM and ate a cinnabun with pecans on it. My mom arrived a little while later, and then the gift unwrapping began.

     My brother got a lot of nice gifts, his main gift from our parents being a Wii. He was really excited, they had built him up to believe that he'd be spending his Christmas money this weekend on one, and now he can just spend it on games. I'm really happy for him.

     I got a lot of nice things, too much in my opinion since I didn't do anything besides exist this year to deserve them. I actually didn't expect any of the wonderful gifts I received, except maybe the book I already mentioned and Star Trek on Blu-Ray. I was pleasantly surprised. If you're interested, here's a list I compiled earlier today for a post on Babalon

- Dell Laptop
- Hello Kitty pajamas
- Hello Kitty nail file
- Giant Hello Kitty coloring book/sketch sheets (literally, this thing is bigger than an opened calendar)- Hello Kitty gumball machine
(yes, I do enjoy Hello Kitty, lol)
- The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
- Nightlight by The Harvard Lampoon
- Tons of candy yum yum yum
- $100 cash, $50 Target gift card, & $15 Starbucks gift card
EDIT: Not sure how I could have forgotten:
- Year pass to all Universal theme parks
- Year pass to Sea World, Aquatica, and Busch Gardens

     Now it's almost time for dinner, ham, potatoes, etc. Once again, happy holidays everyone, and remember what's important—family. Maybe not your biological family, but whoever you deem your family. For me, my friends are my family. Love you all~.

     Also, check out my mom's new blog, "Life After Success, Triumph, & Love"!

P.S. Thank you mom & dad.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Hello world, what joy it is being sick~!

     Hello world!

     If you know me, you know I am often ill— or so it feels like it anyway. Just a few months ago I had H1N1, more affectionately and miscorrectly identified as "Swine Flu" by the media and commercials directed towards terrified consumers. I thought one serious illness a year was enough, but apparently my predictions were wrong. I'm not sure what I've had for the past few days, but it hasn't been pleasant, that’s for sure. Last Monday when I was at my mom's picking up LMFAO tickets—the show was great by the way, despite Firestone being packed to capacity —she had the flu, so perhaps that's what swept me under the weather.

     I've been coughing a lot today, so I've been hoping that it's a sign my body is trying to cough it all out and I'll feel much better tomorrow. I sure hope so because I've felt increasingly worse every day so far. Earlier this evening I felt pain in my lower back from continuous coughing, something my friend Bianca related to. It was truly unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and definitely one of the most painful things I've ever felt in my life. I felt how pregnant women describe their aching backs after several months of pregnancy, haha.

     If wellness greets me tomorrow I plan on restarting my Adderall again and getting heavily back into studying like I was before all this mess. I've been reading some since I've been sick, but I've read fiction for the most part, namely Nicholas Sparks’s The Last Song. Laugh all you want, but I justify it with feeling obligated since I saw the movie being shot in Savannah this past summer. Usually I find mindless fiction a complete waste of time unless it's something like Lolita or Animal Farm, both works of fiction with a meaning deeper than just "teenage love”. Sparks is a decent story teller, although somewhat repetitive in his descriptions and The Last Song is fairly unbelievable when it comes to the back story of the main character Ronnie. Regardless, it's been entertaining, and I'll admit it has fed into the female within me by teasing me with it's details of a perfect romance that doesn't exist.

     Other than aforementioned title, the only thing I've peeked into after finishing Lolita has been The Wasteland by T. S. Eliot. I've read I and II a few times so far, it's very good. I’m excited to read the rest of his work once concentration floods back into my senses.

     Besides reading I've watched quite a few movies since we got Netflix a week or two ago with our new TV and Blu-Ray player. Since I've been sick, I've watched: Super Size Me, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (had never seen it before, my parents deprived me), Confessions of a Shopaholic (sucked), Lisa Lampanelli: Take It Like a Man, Fellini's 8 1/2 (have to watch the rest of it still), Eraserhead, and Bill Cosby: Himself. I've definitely kept myself occupied, haha.

     I braved the cold world today to holiday shop for my friends, I wish I could talk about what I got them but some of them read this and I don’t want to spoil their surprises. I'll have to wait until they've opened their gifts to tell you guys! (And I definitely paid the price when I got home for daring venture out of the house, haha.)