Say what you want to say

you stole my homework

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:53:55 GMT

at least I got a butterfinger out of it

lololololololol

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 06:08:09 GMT

pati

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 01:38:54 GMT

"Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer."
-Mark Z. Danielewski

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 19:36:16 GMT

uaosdfja;skldfjaskldffff

I am such a mess.

1) waiting to hear back from the zoo about the internship. come on, zoo.
2) I am so lazy.
3) my room is a mess.
4) there are SO many people I have been flaking on lately. I hate it but I am such a wreck.
5) there are so many cats in my house right now.
6) by "so many" I mean 2. going to be 3. Mabs is at my parent's house right now. The kitty list is: Maybe, Tuesday, and "Cat Granville", which is what we have been calling the cat that Granville sort of took away from his drunk friend because she was neglecting it.
7) I am so hungry.
8) I am so hungry I don't even want to eat.
9) this is the most pointless post ever.
10) I want to move to Japan.

I make.

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 06:49:10 GMT

So "Bucky" has been changed to "Boo Radley", which I am 100% in support of. I compiled a video of them being tards. Also I am a crazy cat lady and have no life. enjoy.

dees my babieeees!!!

Bucky

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 06:21:14 GMT

Little Bucky being a goofball. Maya is talking about her Buffy the Vampire Slayer dream in the background.

Bucky

Billie Bones

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 23:51:09 GMT

Billie got put down today. she had over 100 cc's of fluid in her abdomen, confirming it was FIP. she was 6 months old. Poor Maya. She's devastated. It happened so fast. I had to stay at work after and it really sucked. Now I'm home and numb and don't know i don'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknow.

ill

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 06:25:06 GMT

guh

I'm sick.
So much vom on Saturday night. oh god. Now I just have a cold and it's ruining my life. My brain wants to out and have fun but my body is like...no. I want to exercise, move around, but I'm weak and hurty all over. Including my eyeballs. My eyeballs hurt. It's made work a fat headache.

Also Billie is really sick. My little sister's cat. I'm really scared for her. She's been vomiting and I told my mom to bring her in. In the two days before she got an appointment she wasn't eating her normal food. My mom has been feeding her tuna to get her to eat. She became lethergic and last night she was burning up. I told my mom it was potentially pancreatitis, a foreign object or something bad she ate. I was right, but we don't know which of these it is yet. Only some of her labs came back. She's incredibly anemic and has inflamation in her stomach and intestines. She's getting hospitalized tomorrow. We brought her home tonight and fed her chicken baby food, which she loved. I know if it was anyone else's cat I wouldn't be worried, but obviously since I have an emotional attachment to her, I feel panicked. There's a chance it's FIV, or even a string that she ate wrapped around her intestines. We won't know until tomorrow, when the full lab panel comes in. I'm hoping it's even some kind of parasite, since that would at least be easy to treat. Nothing looks good right now.
She's Maya's pet, the little kitten we got her on Christmas after we had to give her dog away for being evil. I don't think my mom or Maya could go through that loss again, especially if it's death.
Come on, Billie Bones.

Milk and Wine

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 06:36:41 GMT

mmmmmm

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:22:46 GMT

we aren't together. but we love each other. it's nice.

Tue, 26 May 2009 05:08:39 GMT

"it's like electronical chemicals or something"
-argyle

this is the coolest thing ever

Wed, 20 May 2009 03:38:26 GMT

THE ARTIST

gay fish

Tue, 19 May 2009 01:08:16 GMT

I'm at my parent's house again because I have like OVER 9000 appointments this week. Ok more like 2. but still. I left my phone at my house in NoPo soooooooooooooooooo F.
I'm FINALLY and ACTUALLY putting my art up at Tea Chai Te. I've been telling Ben I'd bring stuff in forever and sort of. Didn't. My parents let me use their super fancy printer and I bought some pre-cut mats, so now I have some nice looking 8x10 and 4x6 prints, 4 of which are matted, the rest just kinda floating. Also I'm putting up my huge-ass black nautilus peice. So...hopefully I'll make some money. F'real.

he said I was Dieses schöne Mädchen.

Thu, 14 May 2009 03:17:42 GMT

my hands are shaking my hands are shaking my hands are shaking
I didn't sleep again last night. I watched the sun come up and then managed to get a few hours in before my mom got mad. Every time I closed my eyes I would fall under the car. over and over. When I actually got up I was having a panic attack for no reason, but that's not uncommon. It just sucks.
my body is better but my brain is sick again.
I need to crawl into that tree before they cut it down. It's raining outside. That tree was so much. It's huge. It's dying. I want to go give it a hug but it's cold and raining outside and I'm already shivering inside the house.

I lost another pound.
this is so pathetic.

Dieses schöne Mädchen

this beautiful girl.

I'm looking through you

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 09:27:04 GMT

I miss arms

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:14:25 GMT

I miss arms around me at night, all night, every night
I wake up at the opposite end of the bed. I don't sleep; I nest, I am living a completely different life
I feel like I'm 10 different people and none of them I can be at once and not dissapoint someone I love.

how am I supposed to pretend I never want to see you again

I decided

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 21:05:24 GMT

I want my ODS name to be Io. that is, i, o. Like one of the four moons of Jupiter.That's all.

thnks

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 09:10:30 GMT

right now is a gift. that's why it's called the present.

-kung fu panda.

my pee story

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 22:42:33 GMT

oh and p.s., I had a catheter shoved up my piss hole last week and it was one of the weirdest and painfulest things ever. Then they pump your bladder full of stuff and you have to pee really bad and are in a lot of pain and have to move around so they can take x-rays and it feels like your insides are being stabbed by knives. And it took me two days before I could pee without having to stop every other second from the pain. Then they were like ok here's some towels go pee on the bed and I was like wtf bitch and then they were like ok you can have a bedpan but we have to get an x-ray of your urethra with urine in it so I had to pee in a pink bucket and it was really weird.
Never have that happen. The end.

oh and I think they accidentally shoved the first one into my vag because I felt a really weird sensation and then they were like, well, we can't use that one, and then they shoved this other thing in me and I was like holy mother fucking shit that hurts and then something, like, stabbed me in the bladder, and they were like, see this little picture? that's your bladder, and that's the huge ass ball on the end of the tube that we just shoved inside of you knocking against the lining of your bladder so you probably feel like you have to pee and are in a lot of pain. Then they were like, well this one's a little big so let's put in a smaller one in and I was like ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? So then they PULLED THAT ONE OUT and put in another one, and then let me fester in misery for like ten minutes, and then some lady comes in and is like, woah they shoved that one up pretty far, and I was like no shit sherlock, I think you just punctured my lung but it's cool.

so yeah then the rest of that stuff happened. Oh and I guess I'm fine, so I went through that for nothing, but at least I don't have to have surgery so yayyyyy. Now I'm going to go back to being tested for narcolepsy. My life is awesome.

WTF part 2

Thu, 22 Jan 2009 02:56:35 GMT

This is a follow up to my last post

HOW THE FUCK DID SHE GET INTO MY ROOM? How long can australian walking sticks survive in eggs for? what the hell was she eating? Is that even an australian walking stick? She looks exactly like one. WHAT THE FFFF.

anyway, feedback is appresh'd. thankssss bug friends.
-Thea

Tue, 23 Dec 2008 08:39:43 GMT

SPILL.

ta-daaaaaaaaa

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 02:44:01 GMT

yep

Mon, 13 Oct 2008 01:26:31 GMT

leftovers

Mon, 06 Oct 2008 04:19:33 GMT

I slept for 20 hours the other night. I only woke up twice because mike called me.

We went out to eat after I finally came out of my coma. I was so hungry I couldn't see straight. I almost passed out before the food got to our table.

I think something is wrong with me

brain vomit

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 05:44:05 GMT

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

My mind is wrapped around lines. I think and dream of them, fractals that shift to make three dimensional shapes that change the way you feel about yourself for the rest of your life.

I was never a pretty child but I can see how the Lolita that hides in every girl came out.
I would love to think I am innocent, but innocence is simply ignorance, you can still seduce and not realize it.
I think of the beach, the swimming pools, thin arms and legs and a streak of red and sun burned freckles over the bridges of noses. Sun warmed shoulder blades and scraped knees. Your backyard, me leaning on the trellis, bottom teeth breaking through the waxy skin of a purple bruise of a plum, your hands reaching under my shirt to tickle me as I squeal and twist away. Or in the back of the car at a rest stop, my legs over yours, parents in the parking lot, you saying let’s play a game. Your thumb on my chin twists my eyes to match yours, and you say, you have pretty eyes. Thumb grazes my cheekbone and I scrunch my nose. Now tell me something you like about me, you say. You have pretty eyes, I say, flat, the blood rushing to my cheeks, embarrassed to say such a grown up and mushy thing. No, pick something else, you say. I turn my head and blow onto the window, creating a frosty patch. I don’t remember what I wrote but my mother and father returned to the car and the game ended.
At the pool, you would take me to the deep end, hands under my armpits, me kicking and wailing that you were going to kill me, I would drown for sure. Away from everyone else, hands on my hip bones, chorine-kissed eyes, forcing me to swim in waters well over my head. I clung to the grimy cement curb of the pool wall, small feet digging into the slimy tile. I knew how to swim, but something about the overwhelming depths of the pool sucked the faith from me, instilling the irrational fear that I would somehow be vacuumed into the vast aqua fog and never return to the surface.
Every greeting was met with a kiss, the forced hug, I complied politely every time. Kiss me, you would demand, if I did not remember this vital step. Soon it was kisses whenever you demanded, pinned to the floor, against the couch, your tongue on my throat, face, bottom lip. Blowing rasberries on my stomach, tongue on my stomach, hands on my hips.
At the country fair, I was a pretzel around your neck, you would insist on carrying me every step of the way. So my legs dangling over your shoulders, hands, carpals, tarsals, metatarsals, encasing the patella, fingers sliding down the femur and tibia, sweaty handprints on the arches of my feet. I would sometimes arch my back and twist over backwards, whine for you to drop me, and you would do so reluctantly, only for me to be scooped up again ten minutes later. I was a leaf, a petal, so easily placed where you wanted, a feather or eyelash. You could lift my entire body with one arm. Was that desirable? This fragile, breakable girl, lively and clumsy, hair uncombed, swathed in baggy clothing? What part of this made your heart beat faster, made you think of me as more than a child, a lover, someone you wanted to be intimate with? When did this line cross, or break, or simply bend to such an extreme? These lines, I wish they were glowing, I wish in my mind they reverberated or buzzed and crackled like an electric fence every time you crossed through one.   But they are threads, silent, weak, flexible.
I recall particular times, most all blurred in my memory. But as I approached the age of 12, going on 13, the clothing became less baggy, the hair became combed, unnatural colors began to smear across my eyelids and onto my cheekbones. I began wearing brand name clothing and trying to be someone that I didn’t really know.
You discouraged this; maybe you were trying to protect me from my future. You told me not to shave my legs and to stop wearing makeup. My girlfriend doesn’t shave her legs, you said, referring to the awkward girl who had been hanging around you that night, someone I had never seen before. That’s right, your girlfriend. I’m not your girlfriend, I screamed in my head. Don’t try to change me. Maybe you missed the little feisty sand-covered child with the awkward teeth and sunburn, this fruit-scented, gum-snapping, glitter-smeared girlthing was changing too rapidly for your taste.
Maybe I am blind to the poetics of it all. Maybe it was merely the same chemistry that spurts a torrent of emotion for a cousin or school teacher. All wrong, but nothing more than a glitch in the electrical wires reserved for pretty girls, the ones your age, maybe even older. Maybe I simply, through society’s paranoia and laws and history repeating itself for every little girl left alone with the wrong person, am judging one person’s confusion for something so much worse. Maybe it was as innocent, or ignorant, as it seemed so many years ago.
Either way, I will never forget the amount of blood that rushed to my head, to my cheeks, my entire brain, the way my stomach clenched, the way my palms sweated, the way I wanted to crawl out of my own skin the day you sat me on the couch and confessed everything. You made sure nobody was around, and when shadows peeked through the door, you stopped the conversation, waiting until they passed.   I had a ball filled with beads in my hand, I held it so hard, the only thing I could grasp as the situation spiraled beyond every level of comfort I possessed. I am your guardian angel, Thea, you said. I am attracted to you, Thea. I want to be with you. But I know I am too old. Someday, when you are older…you drift off. I clench my eyes, there are tears welling up, please get me away from here. I know you feel the same way, you say.
The lines form into sharp daggers and I stab you in my mind.
I tell the truth and, for once in my life, I defend myself.
"I always thought of you as a brother."
I am your guardian angel, Thea. You are beautiful. I want to protect you.
I want you to die, I wanted to say.
Don’t tell anyone I told you this. They wouldn’t understand.

There may have been more words, but these are the ones that stand out in my mind.
Someone eventually came into the room. I broke free, ran outside, and hid in the grass until the sun sank and mosquitoes threatened to suck every ounce of blood from my arms.

At home, the conversation looped in my head over and over again. My jaw clenched, tears rolling down my face, I cursed you as horribly as I could in my head, sometimes out loud when nobody was around. I would have imaginary conversations with you. I would scream and punch you and make you feel as horribly uncomfortable as you made me feel. I started taking hour and a half long showers, scrubbing, scrubbing, trying to make the disgusting feeling inside of me go away. You had betrayed me.
It wasn’t until years later of hiding from boys and getting the same feeling of putrid repulsion every time someone I wasn’t interested in approached me. The boy who’s locker was next to mine told me I was pretty the first day of school, then told a friend he was going to ask me out. I ate lunch in the bathroom for three weeks and didn’t use my locker for half the year. He got the point, but I still walked down the halls with my eyes down, fearing any sort of contact.
I don’t understand how this affected me so badly. I was fortunate, I wasn’t raped, molested, anything.
But part of me thinks that’s what makes it worse. He touched a part of my brain that nobody could see, that no jury would ever prosecute. There is no law against molesting someone’s brain. This is the truth.
I carry this around, thinking, what did I miss?   Was I secretly abused in my innocence/ignorance? Was it everything I remember, harmless, just the words that jumbled up the wires in my brain, that set me off on a fear parade?
I wish I knew. I wish I knew. I wish I could remember. I wish I could remember. I wish I could remember.

Or forget.

I don’t know what you saw in me.