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12/01 Direct Link
It's so sad to me, that I missed the November cut off. I was so close, missing the mark by a hair. Those are worst than not even coming close. Today I look healthy, feel pretty, but have a shallow soul. I just ate a blueberry scone that I made, our latest obsession, to beat the boredom of lower middle class. One must pull themself out of ruts, not just wait for chance to fall on their laps. That's setting yourself up for a long wait. It's this brain. It disconnects from perspective when life is too hard. Very unfortunate.
12/02 Direct Link
We're loyally slaving away on our computers. He just walks by with that I-just-had-the-most-wonderful-shit he always struts with, with the juiciest conversation he's ever blabbed on his cell as if it's for all us to enjoy. All the guests were already in town....and he left her at the altar. Fascinating! But then he cries, "And she was pregnant???". What a jolly day it is for me to hear rich people problems. Other hand, the first little old lady I remember was killed by a wreckless driver and he wasn't even charged. Real problems.
12/03 Direct Link
I had no intention of continuing on about the VP. But the conversations are reeling. I'm eavesdropping, sure, but he's not doing much to conceal his personal business. It's not the first time I convey his ex's messages because they're not on speaking terms. She bought a Lexus right before the papers were signed, out of spite. They ping-pong that kid of theirs around, blaming each other for things. Now, it's about the judge determining who gets the bigger half. Oh, it's nasty. And now he's dating some woman who rolling deeper in gold coins than he is! Unbelievable!
12/04 Direct Link
The Nook was a big fail. I don't like a bright screen glaring back at me, when my eyes are tired, and the only refreshing thing is scenery through print. I miss the weight of the book, just as I claimed they are to be treasured. I miss the pages. I will never miss the sliding of a finger on a screen. I miss pictures in the middle of a book. The prices of ebooks are actually higher than physical books as I misguidedly assumed. I paid top dollar for a tech piece I resent. Should have trusted my instincts.
12/05 Direct Link
No Sugar:

Day 1: This isn't bad at all.
Day 1 - 4hrs: Peeking behind at shadows.
Day 2: Scracthing phantom itches.
Day 3: Watching Cupcake porn.
Day 4: Self-harm via ice cubes.
Day 5: Why is everybody such stupid idiots?
Day 6: Pacthy hair loss.
Day 7: Sleep. Just sleep.
Considering snorting a line.
Day 8: Bargaining with God.
Day 9: Considering snorting a line.
Day 10: Arguing with one's own blabbering demons.
Day 11: Speaking in tongues.
Day 12: Chewing on lettuce, pretending it's rock candy.
Day 13: Glimpse of clarity... until a Dunkin Donut commercial airs.
Day 14: Murderous cake binge.
12/06 Direct Link
The right side of my face is numb. It's very hard to think, especially from my laterals. I swear that eyeball, it's just rolling to the side on its axis. It happens often when my structural integrity is compromised or a shampoo had too many chemicals. I try to stay in the moment, but holding on to solid thoughts is much too challenging. It's hard to know what I feel, what I care for, and I'm suddenly needy. I need people to love me despite my terribly broken brain and body. Fear sets in. One day, it won't be temporary.
12/07 Direct Link
Hanging upside down, rooting down through my feet and lifting my heart, I come slowly up to blinding lights and a spinning room. Before I catch my bearings we're back down at our toes, meditating through the movement. The universe is helping us move. We are not doing this alone. I get the part where people are seeking higher understanding, a bigger connection to this superficial life. But I find it hilarious when the West tries to adopt a piece here and there of eastern beliefs. Whatever benefits their ego, the rest is all bull. Me...I just wanna stretch.
12/08 Direct Link
There would be more people to write about if I wasn't just cynically relating their shallowness. This is a party town. A drug city. A who-are-you-wearing urban neighborhood. I would rather relate to others, but they're busy shopping their hearts away. So I focus on myself, too much. More than is comfortable. I wonder, is this a test? A test for me to grow above the general decaying human condition and love them despite their desire to grow as people? Am I supposed to see their inherent goodness, even though they care not about anything but themselves?
12/09 Direct Link
It's imperative, before this life is over, that Husband and I get to play with a tiger cub. If we cannot make it to Thailand to swim with the elephants, or to Kerala, India to help feed and wash them in the sanctuary, we at least need to pay a large amount of money for a fifteen minute play date with a baby wild animal. This is our passion. Creatures that, although containing fear of man, they are innocent until they meet unnatural human desires. Cuddling with a tiny feline would be a great gift from God himself. Praise Jah.
12/10 Direct Link
I have resisted the want to write or journal. I argue there is nothing interesting to talk about. But when someone writes a book to describe a character, they ask questions. Once answers start developing, simple as they might begin, the story rounds out. This assumes that I'm not worried there's nothing to elaborate my life upon. No. I'm afraid of asking all the right questions. The ones that require delving. The ones that immediately stem another one-hundred unanswered questions. The ones with limitless and interweaving answers that confuse me about who is the girl that I write about.
12/11 Direct Link
A cupcake could might like the most succulent indulgence in the world, but the creamy dreamy look is easily deceiving. The frosting may still resemble raw egg or have enough filler to taste like a spork. The glistening cake may not be buttery at all, but a crunchy sponge with no give. Baking powder and sugar to leave you wanton for balanced sweetness. The drizzled sauces, a sad reduction of creative toddle mixing to wet the sandy icing texture. No, they may look worth the surrender of discipline, but after the first sinking of teeth, don't eat. Unless it's amazeballs.
12/12 Direct Link
One of my favorite anecdotes of all time is that of Paul Erdos, one of the greatest mathemiticians of our generations. He took amphetamines daily to do his math equations. He was never diagnosed with any deficiencies. His doctor friends would help sustain his prescriptions alive because they all wanted to see him excel in his productive and incessant breakthroughs. Some worried for their strange, ascetic, obsessive genius buddy. He insisted he was not addicted though. He bet a close acquaintance (I think it was $500) that he could, no problem, stop popping for a month. And so he did. (cont)...
12/13 Direct Link
(cont)... During this month, the genius problem-solving machine did not, could not, produce a lick of math. The ideas didn't flow. Surely, he idly thought about his existing dilemas. He only wanted to do math, everything else was a waste of time. He didn't even own a home and gave away all his prize monies. Material possessions didn't help his quest for the answers of life! But he proved himself fair and square, accepted his $500, gave it away, and continued to make history. What I'm saying is: I miss adderall and the ceaseless brilliance that comes with it.
12/14 Direct Link
Since I was a toddler, I have a need for wildly outrageous, intangible and abstract ideas. Like, what if this huge earth is really one atom in another unimaginable universe, and we make up one tiny building compound to a monstrous god-like giant, the rest of his atoms being coupled by whole other universes. The latest one is, what if our reality is only our own. Similar to the Matrix, we all are inert bodies stashed in a play-pen for the Gods and the stresses, the wars, the politics, the orgasms, the weight loss...all in our minds.
12/15 Direct Link
I believe I'm not the only one who delights in thinking all these out-of-this-world ideas. I mean, the Maya, one of our most mysterious and complex civilaztions, the name of their people means illusion. We project what our brains want to determine, so nothing is true, real, or important. While I don't buy that, it's one of the explanations that although highly unlikely, we must examine if we are to rule out. If there were to be a next life in the cycle of reincarnation, we would completely forget this one. It would be a new mind.
12/16 Direct Link
Life is not a highlight reel! Everyone is living their life like a status update or uploaded vintage-modified photos reflect the true value of their present existence! Their constantly in defense of their average lifestyle and how they weren't chosen for mediocracy, so long as they make it seem extravagant. It was the best fucking day ever! Guess what? You said that last week, you dickhole! Then they look at you like you shat yourself when you express your week with melancholic reality. You're not playing along. That's right, sunshine! I live in a world that bleeds. Aaaand scene!
12/17 Direct Link
The sky is macabre. Bad omens have begun.

His body was found cold, in rigomortis. My buddy, therapist... my kitty. He's miles away, but he was mine. I had turned him. He anxiously licked the fur off his paws after I moved away because what we had is unique to persons in the wavelength of animal intuition. Now I have felines of my own. They will also someday pass, inexplicably (without access to an proper autopsy). So I celebrated their life with a fancy foil-sealed bag of pink salmon.

Actually, I accidently stole it.

Long Live Scotch!
(1999-2012)
12/18 Direct Link
He doesn't know that some days... I just want to die. Not kill myself. Just cease to be part of the egocentric and evil conscientiousness that we all compose. This...considering my severe mortal fear of mortality. More so, the idea of having his baby scares me more than spending a whole day contemplating death, the idea of not thinking, not meditation, dreaming, participating. It's not necessarily the drink, but this is what drinking does. It helps me say shit out loud. But I hope that nopal tea with the succulent saccharides sop the morbid out of my liver quickly.
12/19 Direct Link
I just made another featured entry. This time I tell no one, not a soul. Few things I care to brag about: One is creating delicious vegan/vegetarian meals which impress meat-eaters into requesting seconds. The other is written accomplishments. (Another is masterfully performing piano ensembles above everyone else's expected level in a recital, but that hasn't happened since I was twelve.) I want everyone to know! Despite the obvious grammatical errors, and dyslexic use of nouns, somebody saw through the physical manifestation of my word juxtaposition and understood the complexities between my lines. My amateur, but real, lines.
12/20 Direct Link
A striking sight of a wild bird walking on concrete toward our building was clearly strange. An odd waddle, for it should be airborne or sunbathing. Behind the facility is a state-native swamp remnant that hosts an alligator. One path: unforgiving highway; another, the cruel circle of life. A random Environmental Protection student coincidentally stumbled by, explaining the majestic Anhinga might simply need sun to dry off his burdensome weight. I wasn't having it. Into a box and vet it went, where its apparent twisted wing received VIP attention, and he could take horizon-bound flight, safe from amphibians.
12/21 Direct Link
It's a ridiculous number of books on the brain and psyche that I've read, for me to still be an unbroken mare every time I feel slightly unhinged. Like a relationship counselor who keeps getting divorced and still sleeps with her ex. Like a recovering junk food addict, still stealing for a cookie here and peanut butter there, when I well know that wheat flour and certain nuts make my circuitry go beserk. Like a lab rat who keeps pressing the electrocution button because ultimately you get a tiny sugar cube. Sometimes we induce our own drama and madness. Weakling!
12/22 Direct Link
It's been two days without a smartphone. Don't ask about the back-pocket toiled incident please. Yesterday, anxiety kicked in. The feeling that the world is passing you by and every emergency you can fathom will occur whilst unavailable. Today, it was slight depression. But when coupled with unworthy sitcoms to rerun on Netflix, and my festered thoughts that had overgrown like yeast died down, I'm feeling quite mentally energized. I haveve found myself again. Even if it doesn't last long. It's nice to be electronically disconnected to reconnect with what I truly wish to access in my heart's mind.
12/23 Direct Link
I think the average person would not believe how much physical pain, as a healthy looking 29 year old, I endure on a weekly basis. Some pains so familiar I dont even notice until you touch me or I change the shoes I wear. It's a part of me now. Although my employer and all-male workmates have accepted the leniency I get, they assume I'm just a girl, a weaker vessel. This one is on the rag all month they must think. But if they suffered what I did, they would be reduced to beggars, mumbling fools, they would.
12/24 Direct Link
90's kid:

I miss

- clacking of a typewriter; weight of the keys.
- the sound of a standard phone ring.
- folding paper notes; thrill of passing them without getting caught.
- anticipating cool new graphics on stamps.
- the attention span to compose and receive a written response.
- not being controlled by bells and whistles.

I like

- receiving an online box order at your doorstep.
- knowing if Husband is dead or alive within 2 minutes of a text.
- spying on exes for validation.
- Hulu.com
- not waiting in bank lines, ever.
- knowing the definition of a word the exact second I hear it.
12/25 Direct Link
You buy ready-to-make chocolate chip cookie dough, toss a few packs in the oven, put them in a homey pyrex container and say, in these exact words, "Why, yes,(snooty pause), I did bake them myself." Everyone raves. Meanwhile, out-shined Little Miss Southern Living in the corner suspiciously spies you, detecting very familiar flavors. She publicly grills you about what vanilla extract and what brand of chocolate you favor. As she begins to submit the implication it tastes just like Pillsbury, you throw down: "How would you be familiar with pre-packged cookies?" Gasps fill the air.
12/26 Direct Link
When you've opened that fresh jar of evenly spread peanut butter, you surely have wondered the national question we all do: is this the jar that will kill me? Does it contain salmonella? Would I be able to smell the e.coli if I shoveled it out with a spoon, destroying the neat proportional scoops that keep the top flat (as one should)? Will I survive this malady once it strikes, lose ten pounds, and look fabulous when the mass torte lawsuit begins? Will I meet my soul mate, another failed USDA victim, in a courtroom, documented by the media?
12/27 Direct Link
I, on the other hand, and lower-middle working class. I cannot fall ill. I shouldn't not even joke about sick days. I should remain a perfect health recod so that my alloted days for disease are used up for brain numbing, overindulging recreation, that in turn is expected to heal itself when I return to work, as I work. Rest? Convalescene? Walkabouts? Pilgrimage? What, am I a dissident? A weakling? I'm not a coffee-pumping, typing-obsessed, brown-nosing, mindless profiting drone? Well, that's not American at all! We should party like Americans, but work like Chinese Communist slaves.
12/28 Direct Link
I never used to miss a payment. Always prompt. Shining credit. Then came marriage. Then a recession. Followed by a cripping fear of all things financial. It took me one whole year to muster up the courage to view my 401k statement. My muscles wrought with tension, my intestines threatening the worst. I'm doing good; not bad at all. Liekly, not enough retirement for two. But shock exposure revealed there is nothing to make my hair fall out about, so I might as well go "aggressive" - their choice word. After all, I'm not conservative, moderate, or balanced by any stretch.
12/29 Direct Link
ECGC, welcome. And thank you for the temporary restorative gifts you bestow upon my brain. Were my cells not dying off at a quietly alarming rate, I might enjoy this perk more thoroughly, and some rejuvenation too. For now, I'll just bask in a brief moment of lucidity until some minor, but highly consequential short-lived pleasure, finishes off another cluster of valuable neurons. No amount of Sudoku or Luminosity will preserve my mind's sturdiness. It's creeping slowly, gradually. Like a shadow you thought you saw. You just don't know what it was, but you know something passed you by.
12/30 Direct Link
It's time for the new year already. We don't have plans. We have worship that evening which is a great way to go. But our worship, although sacred, is not ceremonial or ritualistic. Nothing where you hold your breath, reigning in the rebirth. No long pauses and estatic cheers. Which is fine because its just another day. It's not even a solstice, nor do planets align. As a matter of fact, we're following a very innacurate and unsettling Gregorian calendar! We're gonna cuddle up and watch a B thriller and maybe a pop kiss. Pop! Here comes the new year!
12/31 Direct Link
Like a psychic or mystic freak, it comes to me like automatic writing. I don't know when or how I acquired certain ideas or word patterns, but they come out. It must be happening in the brain, but it feels more like I'm in another dimension; a different wavelength. And the me in the world I just stepped out of is suddenly monochrome on a dazed standby, just rattling off these bombardments that I'm sending through waves. I see them all in front of me. No organization at all. I rush to let them free, but mostly they get away.