Christmas traffic makes me all warm and cozy inside

So it took twice as long to get to the boyfriend's house this evening, surprise surprise. It wouldn't be very Christmas-y of me to run your non-driving ass off the road, now would it?

All hail the queen of procrastination...Alternate title "Ooh look at the shiny thing"

I am writing when I should be walking my dog, wrapping presents, vacuuming, or the many other grown-up tasks that await me in my palacial one bedroom apartment surroundings. Bah.

So there I was...

I had a friend.

That's not right, because I'm pretty sure he's still alive, so, I HAVE a friend. Steve Cotton, yes, real name. When we spent a few months in the Middle Eastern paradise, we often had to find creative ways to amuse oursleves. "So there I was"... naked with nothing to claim but a roll of toilet paper, 5 liters of water, and a pack of cigarettes. We'd add new silly stories for hours to help pass the time. I miss the simplicity. I was watching the news earlier, and I realized how frustrating this war is.
I'm a soldier. Not much of one in the traditional sense lately, but nevertheless, I know how to handle an M16. I see my brothers and sisters and I'm envious as well as thankful, sad and pissed. It goes without saying that I'm thankful and fortunate that every evening, early or late, I get to sleep under clean sheets without a flak vest. And that's all there is to it. Some of us made a decision to defend our nation. The decisions our government makes won't always coincide with personal beliefs, and so if you disagree with them, congrats, you have just experienced democracy in action. I just got home after eating some delicious mussels, a glass of sangria, and some decent conversation. Thank you for the opportunity to do that, sisters and brothers in green, If it wasn't for you and me, and everyone who stood in the face of indifference and said "I have the courage to make the wrong decision", I may have never had the opportunity to have a drink and make a new friend.

I didn't want to do that, but you left me no choice.

Mmmm, wheatgrass.

So I'm all healthy girl and whatnot now. Yeah right. I hate running and I've gained like 30 friggin pounds because I thought I needed an anti-anxiety pill, so it's time to trim the fat, literally. I bought a juicer, a bunch of wack-a-do books, and now I'm trying not to eat anything remotely tasty.

Oh yeah, it's Christmas. Pththb. I like the holidays, I just wish I could get the things for the people I love that I know they'd really enjoy. I did do a pretty good job though. My angel of a boyfriend temporarily forgave a debt and so I can now pay of some bills and get some neat presents, most of which are for him.

Sooooo... back to the coal mines.

Dog tired

Work work work work work work

Why no one would know who Hemingway was if he was a pothead instead of a drunk

Although not an original thought, it brings up a valid point. Most great thinkers were drunks, and nearly none were potheads.

Anyway, hi.

Reality television is ridiculous. Why do people allow themselves to be exploited for a dollar? Like a bunch of dancing monkeys. I'm not watching them anymore. I don't watch them anyway. I have little faith in most people. Given the proper conditions, most people will whore themselves for money. Lovely. I'm to disgusted to write. Hopefully I'll complete a thought one of these days.

I can't hear you, there's all this bullshit in my ears.

I am really tired. Of sleeping. And waiting. It's not the destination, it's the journey. The journey is turning out to be a local 6 train during morning rush hour in August.

--Fortunately, griping aside, I have a wonderful wing man. He's cranky too, and perfect.

Blah blah f-ing blah

So I'm going to Vegas tomorrow- for the first time. Very neat, but I have so much to do and I've yet to do any of it. Oh did I mention I hate my job.

Long time no blog

My bad.
I realized why my family likes my boyfriends (I'm 26) and despises my sister's choices (she's 19). I was living in another state during that critical, fuck-it stage of 19 to 24. I hooked up with some grade f retards. Holy rejects Batman!! Blech. That's why I know this one's a keeper. Trial and error. lol, snort.

Frued's a little retarded

Freudian Inventory Results

Genital (60%) you appear to be stuck between a progressive and regressive outlook on life. Latency (56%) you appear to have a good balance of knowledge seeking and practicality. Phallic (70%) you appear to have issues with controlling your sexual desires and possibly fidelity. Anal (50%) you appear to have a good balance of self control and spontaneity. Oral (50%) you appear to have a good balance of independence and interdependence.

Take Free Freudian Inventory Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Young lady...

I'm such a blabber-er. I go on and on with no end in sight. I want to invent a machine that smacks me in the back the head when I'm doing that. I'm so twirly, unbelievable in love right now, and I can't seem to shut the fuck up when I get started about it. It's funny. I want to tell Mike how much he's come to mean to me and I get all tongue-tied. I don't want to take him for granted and I don't want to hold back, but I don't want to overwhelm him either. I'm so insecure about that. I'm always thinking the next thing I do will fuck it up.

Please Stand By...

So here I am thinking about what the fuck t owrite about, as if anyone actually gives a fat one about what old Sam is contemplating.
Ok, ready?
I think he's THE ONE.
Fucking whoa.
I think I knew it way before I could admit it to myself, but yeah, I do. I deserve it. I was never looking to settle for less than what I deserve, and I certainly haven't. It's all there- the care, the humor, the attraction, the quirks. It makes my stomach flip just thinking about it. I never subscribed to the belief of fate, destiny, one true love, blah blah blah. I actually pride myself on being a cynic, and we aren't a happy people. But lo and behold, I found someone different and the same. Neat. I mean fucking-a right! The prospect of having this man in my life is the most calming feeling I've ever had, and simultaneously makes me spin into orbit. Now if only I could get the rest of my life in order, I'd be good to hook. Not a bad feeling at all, this "happy" I've heard so much about. :0)

I'm a retard

Let's briefly talk about how I'm a moron. I fucked up at work yesterday. I'm trying tnot to stress it, but I am anyway. I was supposed to be somewhere and I blew it off. Why, you ask? Because I drank too much the night before and when I woke up I said fuck it. I was snuggled up with my honey and I hate my job, not a very difficult decision to make. So I missed work because I was drinking. Good job jackass. I don't even feel bad about missing work. I just worry about the repercussions.I need to keep my shit straight.

Work, and other things like it

Blech. I really don't deserve my paycheck. I do just this side of nothing at work and have the stones to bitch about it. I'm such an angst-ridden twentysomething. Boo f-ing hoo. I'm going to drink a beer or three and complain about other things I have no control over. More to follow. Ick.

So anyway, I'm home now and a little more annoyed. Turns out because I decided to go straight home and not stop back in the office, my boss got all pissy, because apparently I'm supposed to walk in and say hi or some dumb horseshit. He thinks just because he doesn't talk to me I'm going to be his best friend. I DON'T LIKE HIM. He tried to get in my pants and I turned him down and his feelings are hurt. I'm not all "sexual harassment" girl or anything, but goddamnit, don't act like we're fucking buddies. Fuck, I hate my job. At least I'm home, hanging with KRock and a Bud Light. And my puppy.

And I get to be around the people I love the most, dad and sister aside. My other sister and her sweetheart are going to be here this weekend, as well as my bunny. I'm trying not to stress it, but I want everything to be all fun and whatnot. I think it will be.

Enough with the sugar. Aren't these stupid blogs supposed to be all irony and sarcasm?

Good Morning

I'm in a new place. I don't feel any guilt, any fear, any bad feelings. It's a great place. I hope to stay here. For a while.

Goddamit

So here's the thing about email and why I save them. People think they can manipulate you into thinking you said something when in reality they're are just really fucking retarded. It's pretty simple. And so said reject tried to accuse me and belittle me when, in fact, I was right all along. And you know what, instead of taking issue I'm just going to let it be. It won't change a damn thing either way. I've got way too much in my hand to fold.

I am Jack's Afterschool Special

So I'm on the road to wellness. Not only have I agreed to sit down with a by-god psychologist, I'm taking a low dose antidepressant and I'm in serious like with an amazing human being. I mean holy fucking shit, it's about time, potential having dude. Maybeit's a cruel joke and I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll be all gloom and doom again. But I seriously hope not. We are very much in the zone with each other. Apparently I'm special according to him and I think he's goddamn awesome. I would make some "grand plan" adjustments if this is what I'm hoping it is. I only hope when al my icky past lives are exposed he doesn't run screaming. I've done some retarded shit, and he seems to be a pretty upstanding human. Not that I'm the fucking devil incarnate, but I feel like damged goods sometimes and I worry about that. Anyway, so yeah, this is one part of my life that is absolutely perfect. No more marriedguyunavailableemotionalissuebullshit.

Fucking duh.

I must say. People will always surprise you.

Today

I think it may be worthwhile to record, but then again, possibly not at all. Does a person who has, let's say, a personality disorder- harsher sounding than it really is- have periods of clarity, like when you're coming down off of a hallucinogenic high? It came to me out of nowhere. I think I have more severe ups and downs than the average schlub, but I don't think I qualify for Lithium by any stretch. I do have these moments when I'm down, like right this minute, when I''m obsessing about dumb shit that I step outside of myself and it's a big "what the fuck". I know the thought process is flawed, but I can't see the "work"(math reference). I'm "here", and I know the answer is "there", but I can't for the fucking life of me see the path. I know what would make shit easier-- put someone in the army, save money, stop obsessing-- but I can't get there. And then there's the drinking. It's the same shit I did as a teenager. Try it out, push the envelope, jump back at the last minute. Do I have it in me to be a drunk? No. I think I would have been already. I used to drink a lot fucking more than this. But I do find a little bit of solace in it, and I don't know if that's okay. It doesn't solve anything, but it alleviates the torment for a few hours. This rant hasn't even solved anything really. It just puts it out of my head and into the light, maybe if I study it I can figure it out.

I can give and receive love with joy and abandon and still find my way home alone at night.

I want to be able to do this.

Dumb dumb dummy questions

So what do you think really attracts one person to another and mutually even? And honestly, anyone who thinks they have an answer is full of massive amounts of shit. I mean, seriously, if I think back and try to tell you what it was with each encounter, it would be different 9 times out of 10. That and it wouldn't be fucking accurate anyway because hindsight fucks up perspective. The journey, however, has been A-1 out-goddamn-standing. I mean, seriously, I've been places and seen shit and met people. Maybe that's why I'm who I am. As far as the mild neurosis and whatnot. But there's always that light at the end of the tunnel man. And then blinding sun. What are you gonna do? Take it on the chin? Rage against the dying of the light?

--This reminds me of like, 6th grade or something, when my english teacher would have us do "journal writing". I fucking hated it. I could never think of anything to write. So I'd make up dumb stuff, because I didn't want her to know what I was thinking. I couldn't be honest with myself when I was 11? That's fucked up. And with that

Evidence of slipping...

I suppose I might actually share my thoughts and such with perfect strangers and finally acknowledge I've lost it. The proverbial marbles.