Mechanic

I'm a fixer.
a problem solver.
a self-confidence regainer.
a developer of ideals.
a sponsor of emotional growth.
a helper.
a self esteem producer.
an attention giver.
a dream fulfiller.
a passion maker.
an ego teacher.
a false expectation breaker.
a natural love giver.

I carry everyone's burden until it's no longer one...wish my back would snap already.


- "SNAP" -

tHE. eND.

Wishful typing?

nah, won't die just yet...a little inside every day maybe, but that's a regular.

Random Scream-off

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

just go get shot in the head!!!!!

White light

I start thinking over and over and over and over again "what went wrong"? Do I have a cosmic joke poster in my back, held up by double sided scotch tape on my skin? Are all my clothes see through? Did I wake up and forget to put on my panties...again? Did I spill chocolate ice cream on the front of a white shirt? oh, wait, I don't own a white shirt...nevermind.
I feel as if I'd been pissed on by a dinosaur, something irreversible, kinda shocking, disturbing, and that will never get off my mind.

OFF I SAY!

But it won't listen, it just stares at me, blankly, like a five year old when you explain the meaning of the words serial killer, trying to understand why a killer that enjoys cereal is a worse person than a regular one...blank, round eyes, confused, maybe tearful...
I have a five year old stare in my mind...I can't get it to go away, and I need it to, because it's turning into an annoying little brat, claiming attention every time I manage to get it caught in some other more interesting and less binding drift...

I'm psichologically blind. I weave eternal webs that curtain my anger...that filter my outbursts, that break me down into a million little puzzle pieces which are, in turn, marked red in the back with a letter or number to make it easier to get them back together again.

I'm predictable.
I've become boring.
I've turned into a social slut.

And I disgust myself.

So fuck off, me! I never wanna see me again! I can go straight to hell, cause I've paved the road with idiocy and contempt. So fuck me! Fuck my ideals! Fuck my state of mind!

Fuck everything and anything that has to do with me, and you too, jsut for being a limp bystander with zero perspective and denying the undeniable. You can go to hell too, and all of yours.

Love Love Love!

Word vomit

There's something about me that bugs the hell outta me: I don't have a filter.
I say whatever, whenever it comes into mind...and trust me, sometimes you don't wanna know, (even if at that time it is awesome, you might come to think whatevers about it later, totally unrelated whatevers that'll turn my word vomit into puke assumptions...)
Which will eventually kill my mojo and appeal and I will end up being "the girl who didn't know when to cork it"
Yeah well...I know when to cork it...
You said not to...
Let's hope u can deal with it :D
Cause asking for it, is not the same as liking it when you get it...and trust me, you'll get it...
You'll know what I mean.
Kiss kiss, bang bang...

(keep out) :D

P.S.
Please notice how puke replaced pure, and I hung a sign on the door

Check up

Disturbing...why does one worry about the wellbeing of people that are more than probably perfectly fine, only don't want to pick up the phone, or send a txt or anything.
What happened to the leave a message after the beep?
Desperation to know if a person is alive and well is really unhealthy, specially considering that with the incorporation of cell phones as appendixes, and such "communication tools", we have become more and more irritable to lack of communication. Why?
Because it really is sooo easy, texting is like brushing yr teeth, you can even do it while you brush your teeth, make breakfast, bunjee jump or whatever, but people don't. You're just waiting to know if whoever it is you're calling has cracked his/her head like a watermelon against concrete, or has overdosed or had an intoxication issue the previous night.
Truth is, wanting to know if sby is ok is more and more often thought to be an invasion of privacy.

How? When did the "check up" become a visit to the dentist? Unwanted, nagging, time consuming, painful....etc.

I wish I knew.

But I'm still gonna nag people I love to know how they are, :D just cause I care, and in my world, caring is importante, no matter who it is you're caring for.

Afuckingdorable

Random

Tom tilted the tame tortoise trying to take tiny taped tokens to torment the tumbling tangerine, they took turns tossing the tortoise, taking the tokens that trashed towards the tiles.
Tammy tried to tell them the tokens tore. Tears trickled, Tom took the tortoise's tokens to the table, tried to tape them together.
The task took time, til they tied the torn tokens to the tortoise.

Don dragged drapes down dimensions, drooling dark drops directly dooming dinosaurs. Dennis daily dropped dimes, dreading dizzy days, distracting Danny's dog during dinner. Danny's dog destroyed Don's drapes, disgusting Dennis, disturbing Don. Darn day.

Cameron cooked celestial crab cakes, cinnamon casserole, catching crooked carrots, coriander, cranberries... Crystal couldn't cook, corrupted Cameron's crabcakes' contents' constistence, crazily cramming cold custard completely covering crab cake containers. Cookies crushed, crumbs covering countertops.

Sticky Senseless Somethings

I've got a delirious obsession with post it notes...
There are exactly...21 post it notes stuck on my desk.
Colourful. Small. Tidily set almost with the same distance in between each and every one of them.
I never let two of the same colour next to each other.
I try to make a nice colour jumble say, green, orange, yellow, hot pink, orange, green, orange, yellow, orange, hot pink...
Or maybe hot pink, green, yellow, orange, hot pink, green , hot pink, green, yellow.
The funny part is, as structured as I am with those kinds of things...I can't seem to make my bedroom look less than a war zone...and more like somewhere you can actually sleep, or sit in.
I'm currently sleeping in my sister's former bedroom, new guest room, cause there is no way I can use the bed in my room.
No way...
Besides, I don't wanna sleep in it for a while.
Back to post it notes though, I just love them.
I mean, they are sooooo helpful...unless they fall, stick to a dirty carpet and take everything that made the carpet dirty on them...disgusting.
The sticky part is awesome too...it actually sticks to almost everything, skin not recommended, cause it doesn't last long, but then you can peel them off without leaving a trace...
Not like bandaids.
Bandaids leave a nasty line where the goo used to be on your skin and you've got to rub (the tender, torn skin around the injury) to get it out...shitty little pieces of sticky crap.
Glue is something that I never got along with...it usually ruins anything you were planning to make tidy and perfect...paper gets moist and wrinkles, if it goes out through the sides or something than you mess everything up. I you use too little it doesn't stick, if you use too much it's goo hell.
It's so awesome that someone came up with the idea of glue in a bar. It makes things a lot easier for us crazy maniacs to have perfect lovely flawless works of art.

Well, so, I've got a delirious obsession with post it notes. But what do I care?

Acute - "Social Ambiguousnessitis"

People have recently become part of a diseased community, affected by the rare disease I call: "Social Ambiguousnessitis".

What, you might wonder, is this disease all about?

Well...it is, in fact pretty simple.

People don't know anyone anymore.

To make this text a little less...obsolete...let me tell you why I say this.

Everyone is stuck to the TV, the cellphone, computer, ("Mac or PC?" - jeez)
Let's go, oh no, let's wait another half hour cause I'm waiting to see if the guy I like is attending the party I'm going to on facebook and he hasn't replied yet so...

Oh.... my....lord...

Have we seriously absorbed such a tech handicap that we can no longer relate with people unless it is through channels?

There used to be a time when if u wanted to, say, see sby, you called their home number.
Or rang a doorbell...

How long has it been since you last rang a freaking doorbell?

A couple years?

It's better to text, right?
from the door...

"Hey!, I'm downstairs, care to open the door?"...
And the douche upstairs doesn't come down and open...before doing that you receive a text saying:
"I'll be right down" and then they come...

Awesome dude...

Ever noticed how you get home...and check a thousand channels to see who left you a message?

Send me a fucking postcard.

I'll probably receive it faster than the email u sent to my personal windows live account cause I've got it for msn but check it randomly every 3 or 4 days, you can send it to any of the others I've got, cause y'know, I've got six email addresses I remember...maybe more, but six...

SIX?!

wtf am I thinking?

I've got two blogs, 6 email addresses, facebook, twitter, myspace, sonico, msn, the windows live profile, badoo, and several other useless social channels that turn you into the least social person in the world.

How?

How many hours are consumed checking emails, blogs, social networks, text messages, and, the allmighty answering machine (on yr cell, your office number, your home number, and others)?

There's only so much time per day...

so...

Instead of hanging round your house moping waiting for the phone to ring, msn to tingle, facebook chat to pop! or notifications to appear in any of these shitty things...

Put your shoes on...and go visit a friend...

Worse thing that can happen, is he's not home.

(If that is the case, go read a book, have some coffee or something...or if you're not a loner, do, please call a friend and ask them out for coffee....but no texting. a good old "hey man, wanna get together?" yeah where? "bar right across the street from yr place?, say in....half an hour?"Sure, "Cool, see ya there", See ya.

Wave, smile "Heeeeeey dudeeee"

Communicating is important.
Talking is important.
Seeing your face when you talk is important.
Showing affection is important.

Enjoy life, and people in it...both of them have an expiration date.

Crossroads

Our paths have crossed...a thousand times.

The thing about paths crossing is they go elsewhere after they've crossed.
Something like standing on a street corner, seeing someone, one goes west, the other one east...
And then maybe, only maybe someday you come back to that corner, or another corner, or maybe not even a corner at all.

Those times are the ones I wish were in a loop.

A corner loop.

Over and over again, crossroads appearing, and constantly becoming permanent.
I want an eternal crossroad.

Nothing like forever for people to freak out...That's why I avoid "forever" I'd rather say "for now" or "for as long as it lasts".

Though forever does crawl into a corner of my mind. In a corner, in crossing paths...then one heads west...and the other one east...

Scream off once and again and again...

Screamoff material:

Break ups
Make ups
Strange encounters
Happy moments
Marriage
Divorce
New Job
Quitting
Great idea
Mind jolt
Same old (shit again)
Stress
Relaxation
Sadness
Awkwardness
Crashes
Leaps of faith
Conclusions
Resolutions
Toasts
Problems
Mental Blocks
Emotional Blocks
Tear-ups
Impotence
Pain
Suffering
Joy
Complications
Status Quo.


So tell me, what's your reason for screaming your lungs off?

Cheers!

TO DO LIST

Things I oughtta, wanna, do:

- Pay Ccard.-

- Buy Stockings.- (colorful, lace, etc.)

- Buy LBD.- (yes...another little black dress)

- Paintball!!!.- (fuck yea, be careful I aim to the eyes. XD)

- Make sushiiiii.- yum yum yum california and ny with philly :D

- Take the girls out for make up, lingerie and whatever else shopping.- whatever else shopping is a copyright product of "my lack of ability to make sentences too long" INC. Donations welcome. Please call, 410-555-7...???

- Get hair cut.- french styleeeee

- Buy boots.- :D multiuse preferently like the ones on VS only when I was gonna check out they went OOS...shit

- Buy pleated skirt.- black black black....don't ask why, just let me wear whtvr the fuck I want XD

- Ice skating :D:D.- or maybe Ice falling....

- Chinatown.- and buying EVERYTHING

And tons more....with so little time XD

Ain't life bright and colorful?

Please check out Joanne Gair's website...awesome makeup like above.

The circus...

Floating under the pleated skirts of a giant tent, a minuscule speck can see it all.

It gets carried away by a light breeze, into the trapeze artists' changing rooms. I have always been fond of trapeze artists...dangling head down, holding on for dear life to ropes, strings; hoping this will not be the day when their skulls crack, this will not be the day they fall into the abyss they've stood on the brink of for so long.
There's something about trapeze artists that I can't put my finger on. I know most people enjoy some kind of rush in life, some new adventure. But trapeze artists endure a daily dose of peril, an hourly unintentional suicide attempt. It must be hard to live by such rules...such emotional strain.

Oh look, there it goes...the speck! It has caught another breeze and it's heading towards the clowns' dining area. God do I hate clowns...not people dressed as clowns...the whole concept.

(I'm also a potential heart attack scared of them)

But without getting into my many fobias, let me tell you what I think is wrong with clowns. Clowns are, by definition, people who dress up, and play fools to make other people laugh.
The truth is, you will never see a clown wearing a smile behind the curtain, or laugh at himself tripping over gigantic shoes. But you will also never see them telling people about their problems...which they do have.

Clowns are sad people...always trying to make anyone happy...even at the cost of their own happiness. They hide behind smiling faces and ridiculous costumes, building walls between themselves and the rest of the world.
It must also be an emotional strain.

I pity them as much as fear them.

The speck floats out of the room into the circus ring, through lions' hoops, and sets on the ring leader's platform.

Quite a jolly fellow the ring leader...everybody loves him...of course, everybody outside the circus loves him. People are astonished by his charisma, outfit, and verbal skills.
His voice can be heard for miles, he bellows, he screams, he sings, presenting every act, thanking the audience, covering any mild accident or flaw with words. However, his beaming personality is not as bright as it is when wearing those sequined costumes...

No...no it isn't...(sigh)

The ring leader has got a problem...and a bad one really. Even though he possesses the ability to communicate with people, and being very cultured and smart, he does not possess tact, or consideration, or anything related to someone not being emotionally strained.

I guess he is not....or is he?

Well...the speck decided to continue its journey...maybe it will come back for more some day.

- or maybe it won't -

There was a game

And there were many others...
There was a need for feeling, a need for touching, tasting, seeing, hurting, loving, being.
There was a need inside of me...
There was doubt.
There was uncertainty.
There was pain.
There was peace.
There was a broken heart...but a whole one.

There's still a need for feeling, a need for touching, tasting, seeing, hurting, loving, being.
There is still a need inside of me.
There is doubt.
There is uncertainty.
There is pain.
There is no peace.
There is a broken heart...and parts are missing.

There's an ache...


There's a hole...


Something is wrong...and I think I know what it is.

But I prefer to write about it, ignore it, and discard it...

(cause maybe it'll hurt a little less that way...)

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

I guess I'm having a shitty flashback but I swear I used to be sooooo much fun lol.

No, really, I used to sing a lot, laugh a lot, go out a lot (more/or later maybe)get drunk a lot, dance a lot, shout a lot, live a lot basically.

Now all I do is sit around...and wait....FOR WHAT?

Lemme know when u find out, 'cause I'm definitely not gonna be the first to know.

I'm never the first to know....XD

Well..........

I guess that's it...I need someone to tell me what the fuck is going on with me...'cause I don't see it...otherwise it's as if I went to bed in a stranger's body every day...and woke up in another stranger's body every day...

Shit

Someone cough out some valium for me so I shut down and shut up...

Seriously, I feel as if my lack of interest was about to burst a hole in my soul (sweet aerosmith), like an aneurism from hell...or something.

Betcha I'm gonna wake up one day and not know how the hell I got here...and not for the good old "beery" reason.

Forgive my french, but FUCK GROWING UP.

never never never land....la la la ....