Category Archives: feelings

my emotions

Cheatskate. Cheating boys ain’t no good under my hood.

I haven’t been copmlex lady lately, so I am going to expose a conversation I had recently. A recent commenter wanted to know what to do with a cheat cheat cheater cgeat… who wants to say f off but wont.

My advice: Get out of the relationship if the person doesn’t know the letter after “e.”

She was searching for the “let me go down on you” experiment, it turns up that it doesn’t really work. Going down or even going downtown with someone doesn’t make them cheat on you.

She also stated that many people are tired of cleaning up his socks and cum. Many people? Sorry for you! If you don’t enjoy it, nobody will. Let him clean up the dirty work, especially if he is dirty. Dirty boys will never stay clean. Their hearts won’t be in it for you either. Put a bit of positivity in your life. Stand up for yourself and make the world a cleaner place.

Missy Died. And all I got was a poster…

Mr. meany mosquitee really hurt my feelings.

It made for quite a funny story, but my kitty kat/puppy cat was really special. Missy had genital herpes and I was taking her to the vet to get her monthly shot…

I saved $83.99. Well, I guess it’s not so bad. And I learned how to make my own poster.

MISSY? If you can read this, come home!

If you have your pager or a couple dimes, please call. You can even call COLLECT.

No Big Deal

No big deal is still a deal. Its okay if there is no sales tax, and you get your electronics and mp3 player at a discount. I went to the love of my life and had nothing to say in regards to worry. I am just going crazy in my memBRAIN. My life is content driven. I can’t drive. I am bologne to my cheese.

How to beat your fiancé at Jeopardy

There are millions of people out there in the world that play the original Ninendo games. I happen to be one of those fantastic one-of-a-kind female nerds. I make believe life is great and that there is a fiancé in the making and he is willing to play Jeopardy with me on my dusty NES system. If Tucson could build me such a life. The rest of my life is ridden with magazine elixers and underwear hanging on a fan after being handwashed (no I am not a third world child laborist). I’ll just entertain the rest of my year with mirages of myself as a new stage of my life.

Friends don’t mix

social interaction
interactionary involvement.

I am the universal anti-monger
surrounded by internal affairs,
conflicts of interpersonal environments,
where insecurities describe splits among people.

who we choose to be with should be an equal push-pull.
Fragility sometimes causes imbalance.
weights are self-handed to weak fingers.

when all of those you know divide
and get conquered, all you have
is yourself, to trust at your own discretion
To rebuild steps.

Rape Squad: Act of Vengeance

My library had a book sale and on the last day they offered $5 for a bag of whatever they had available. I managed to get some old magazines, a few books, and a couple movies. One of these movies was Rape Squad. I had an obligation to fill my bag to garner value out of that $5. I’m not sure what brought me to pick up Rape Squad other than the shock value. And it was made in the seventies. The DVD even had a pricetag on it from my local used bookstore. It had to be worth looking into. I was trying to save it for a date movie, but my curiosity couldn’t wait that long because I haven’t been acting attractive lately. No prospective guys are in my life these days, and that’s refreshing for the most part.

The Movie was tacky, campy, and contradicting. An anti-rape movie depicting rape (not too graphically, but still disturbing to WANT to watch) that offers boob shots during the victimization. It doesn’t market itself very well. It reminds me of Halloween. It’s okay to be who you aren’t then, or to be the real you (the dark side) without being seen as an evil person. Who knows… maybe it’ll be on during the holiday, or I’ll push play during the freakshow parties I go to.

I felt angles of this life dimension

I am sinking into this hopeless bliss. Everything couldn’t be more unsettling. I can’t accomplish a thing without paying a figurative fee to society. I have no interest in my behavior. I don’t realize my facadistic impulses until someone brings them to my attention deficit disorder. I don’t care if my lifespan doesn’t match the posthuman. What have I that will hack my existence? Most of my parts work like when they were new. Devoid direction is my mapless conquest. I am soothed by the unexpected. I claim to live in it with ease; I now put it under reconsideration.

Reconstructing the dream sequence involves going back to sleep and when I say “back to sleep” I mean sleeping back then/not on your back/not returning where you left off. Sleepful content is had when learning happens, when learnedness is applied, and when there the uncontrolled yields a potential quality. This sleep is life to me. But I am also literally tired of sleeping and waking. Let it be one or the other. I now can handle both with equal interest, but trouble through shuffling the deck of nights and days. Tonight might be a face card where I get too much sleep or deuce to depravity.

What kind of precision can you achieve if you arbitrarily make a compound miter cut (CONFUSE MYSELF)? The final products are invisible to me and is there a good angle or a technique that works or does it even matter? I can help from being a rear-view filmmaker. I don’t need to record my life. Replays aren’t where I can live. Boy am I glad I am not finished with the filmography. Girl am I sad that I can’t focus on the current production. Nobody is the devine director.

Emotions are like magnetic fields, attracting its opposite. The element of reality known as NOW is rhetorical surface tension.

Hooking up unhooks

If a partner in a hook-up begins to care for the other, the desire for commitment may drive the other away. Reasons for embracing a hookup could be to (1) fulfill a sexual desire without responsibility, (2)
compromise emotional security to satisfy desire for intimacy, or (3) submitting to incompatible partners instead of seeking an enduring relationship.

The common ground found is that people are afraid of engaging on a deeper level. Why? They know it can be dangerous. They don’t want to break hearts. They don’t want to have a heart that breaks. They avoid the heart instead. Heartless acts are cold. So the intentions are more detrimental on a hidden level. I hope I am never selfish enough.

Lookism and the Soda Age

Server to middle-aged couple…
says:What can I get for you to drink?
Subconscious Implication: Have whatever you want.

Server to young lively group indecipherably over 21…
says:What do you want to drink? We have Coke, Sprite, Rootbeer…
Subconscious Implication: You only option is soda tonight!

Fresh 21 year olds have designated drinkers who donate the driving to less responsible alcoholics. Even if this occurs before your best friend’s birthday who is already 21, you may still get the mandatory soda option.

The power of lookism will make you organize predispositions without taking into consideration the recognition of variations. So I got mad that I was verbally limited to those drink selections. I could easily order a beer in spite of her but I didn’t need to defend myself.

It’s funny how I was misinterpreted about being older than I really am in some cases, but the challenge of being seen as under 21 was still in effect. A public directory had me a year older than I was and Kid A believed me to be that age. I had to defend myself that I was actually younger. So the power of the look was overcome by media, then by word of mouth. The word of mouth defense then gave lookism another chance to question my youngness after media was wrong by overaging. Media (Marshall McLuhan never realized) creates another force that fights internal prejudice, but therefore stirs into the pot a more dangerous external prejudice.

I don’t give care if I look 18 or 25, because I’ve been seen as both on first impressions- 1st impressions before being skewed by behavioral and mental interaction. And still lookism prevails on last impressions. I saw you for the 100th time and you still think I’m 19. Maybe that’s why you won’t have an adult conversation with me. I don’t read coloring books anymore.

feelers, time, and breakups

Instead of antentae, humans got stuck with emotional feelers.

I have a lust and disgust for time. I need more of it, but I’d love to rid myself of it (not in a life-ending way, don’t worry!). My life now exponentially feels fuller and quicker. Time flies when you are having anything, not just fun… Time drags when you don’t think, or when you think of things you are not interested in. I haven’t felt so thoughtful in my entire life. Things are flying: through rain, snow, sleet, hail, fun, letdown, and opportunity.

I’ve lost a lover. He was a rare kind. Time ran me by and I got thrown off my feet. He ended commitments three months after discovering each other on a personal level. A short time, but an endless package of feelings and gatherings to replay for lifetimes. Companions are for life. Couples have breakups. I think I had both whether a couple of people constitute a couple, we up and broke our romance. We have companionship left over. That’s most important… I could use more ships full of company.

I am struck by his decision to hold back on “us.” If it’s a hiatus, things will straighten out together on its own. If it’s the ending punctuation mark on the sentence of love, then both of us must know that a piece of us and our experience will linger stiffened in the past, unchangeable, but retrievable. The ending period doesn’t stop anybody from reading what’s written before it. The authors can revise and append the story of love or they can leave the sentence abandoned- the orphan.

I feel like I have reasons for having feelings, rather than the isolated individual perspective of submersion in apathetic teeter of melancholy and euphoria.

disappointed but grateful
detached but realistic
blank but hopeful
fragmented but understanding
confused but content
empty but growing

I feel a physical manifestation of ambivalence.