January 8, 2003
Fate is cruel. The one person in the entire world you want, the one person you long for with every fiber of your being, is the one person you can never be with. You ache for one touch, one warm smile, one soft laugh, but you shall never receive it. Life is not a fairy tale, and there are no happy endings. As children, we grow up hearing about princesses and princes and fairy book romances, but we won’t experience them. We won’t feel the immense joy that those characters felt, we will never find that ‘perfect moment.’ If someone would go up and kiss a frog they’d just get warts. With my luck, I’d kiss a frog and die. I’d mistake one of those poison arrow frogs for a ‘special’ frog. Yeah you know the frog I’m talking about...anyway, is it so much to ask for one moment of fairy tale happiness? But perhaps, it’s not worth it. Running around searching for a cause, or prince in this case, will just ruin our knees. Because life sure as hell isn’t any grassy meadow, it’s more like cracked concrete, on good days. Perhaps humans aren’t meant to be happy. It’d be the proverbial dog seeing a rainbow. Such stunning color for an all too brief moment, then it fades from view. Then the little doggie longs to see that rainbow, those pastel colors we take for granted for the rest of his puppy life. If humans found happiness, it would no doubt be torn away again, and then we’re right back where we started. All that ‘better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’ junk is exactly that, junk. If you gave someone the key to your heart, then that person melted the key to make a silver condom, you’re feked. The proverbial lock over your proverbial heart melts into a deformed blob, making love impossible. But maybe fairy tales aren’t that good either. Snow White probably popped out a bunch of brats (most of them the obvious offspring of Pissy, the eighth dwarf) and became the droopiest of the land. The prince ran around with the town slut until he eventually died from syphilis, and Snowy bitch is left old and saggy with her ungrateful, spoiled royal brats and Pissy (who’s now so old he’s got hair everywhere except his head). Belle turned around and left hairy boy for that candle guy, the prince pushed Cinderella down the stairs in a fit of rage the night he found out that she’s been sleeping with Lucifer (the cat, not the devil you idiots), Sleeping beauty wasn’t really a beauty, and she wasn’t sleeping in that bed either. The spork killed the dish off after sleeping with the spoon, and the man in the moon is a flaming homosexual. Life doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
January 15, 2003
My gods. Today I was hit with a pickle. Apparently some big shot at the Lunchroom saw it, and I got yelled at. I didn’t throw the damn thing! But I was the one to get in trouble? What the hell is up with that?! Damn food nazi! Then I really got it. I went off on a rant saying I was being discriminated against because I just happen to remain aloof from a society of sheep, and the stupid manager guy told me to look up the definition of discriminate. So, being the lovely person that I am, I whipped out my little dictionary and looked the word up. (not that I needed to, I just wanted to throw it in the guy’s face) So I read off the definition, and I get kicked out for being a smartass. The guy told me to do it! He’s a hypocritical, chauvinistic bastard! Did the guy who threw the pickle at me get yelled at and kicked out? Hell no! Why the heck should I get kicked out of my favorite eatery because I got hit with a pickle? I DIDN’T THROW IT YOU FEKING RETARD! Jeebuz. I hate that stupid lunchroom guy.
January 20, 2003
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it, this whole life thing. Some say the meaning of life is the friendship you share with others, well my friends aren’t really friends if you think about it. First we got Char. Don’t get me wrong, I luv the girl, but I highly doubt she’d be there if I fell into another debilitating depression. Then we have Kim. Haven’t really seen or talked to her since my first breakdown. There’s been the occasional glance at a fast food joint, seen ‘er a couple times at the mall, but that’s about it. What a lovely fair weather friend. Then we come to lunchbuddie. She’s not even a partial friend. Tried to vote the little bitch off the island a few times, but she always seems to find her way back over. There’s always Amanda, but she’s got a tampon up the wrong hole or something, always screaming at me now-days. Who do we have next.? There was Lee, the one I considered my best friend (even though I know we’ve been drifting apart over the past, oh let’s say year…I wish I didn’t let it happen. I wish I didn’t let the walls pop back up after Matt. I wish I didn’t let my best friend slip away like that...but wishing won’t fix anything. I can’t wish the friendship back, I can’t wish time to reverse, I can’t wish anything right. Maybe someday we’ll get the friendship we lost, but I don’t think I’ll hold my breath). What about Ray? I don’t even know about him. I feel like I should do something, but I can’t think of anything to do. I should have called him, or something. I should have walked my ass into town to see him, I should have done a lot of things, but again wishing won’t solve anything. Did I miss anyone? Oh yes, Justen. Dear, dear Justen. That was such a waste of time. Never date a natural blond, it always ends in trouble.
January 24, 2003
Sometimes I wonder why pet store owners don't kill some things the moment they pop out...like skinny pigs. What the hell is up with skinny pigs.? Who the hell would want one of 'em oogy ass critters.? With the no hair...and the bulgy eyes...and the little hairless paws going... ::flairs arms about wildly, clawing at the wal:: on the side of the glass...and the squeak squeak squeak squeak SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK.! Annoying little tards...I loath skinny pigs...DEATH TO ALL SKINNY PIGS.!!
January 26, 2003
Alright, this is my theory on dimensional travel. Think of the dimensions as a stack of hollow papers. Think little infinite rectangles of thin paper stacked on top of each other going for eternity. Now lets say you want to travel out of your box, into another box. All you have to do is rip a hole from your box into the next box. Now, to travel through the dimensions, all one must do is rip a hole into the dimensional fabric. Of course you can’t just go up and say ‘Hey.! I think I’ll rip a hole in the dimensional fabric.!’ You need to find a fluctuation, or weak point. But I already know where one is. The Bermuda Triangle. The Bermuda Triangle is the former sight of Atlantice. Now the Atlantians were more advanced than we are, so they had realized that the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, it is nothing, and built a form of travel based on this theory. They developed a system to tear a hole in the fabric of space to another location, and developed a way to travel through it. But this weakened the dimensional fabric, eventually tearing a huge hole and obliterating their civilization. The fluctuation remains today, and the waves omitted from the next dimension wreak havoc on our world, hence all the trouble associated with the Bermuda Triangle. Now that we have the weak point, we can make a tear. But tearing isn’t the hard part, the hard part is fixing the tear so the two words don’t get seriously screwed. Once I figure that part out, I’m leaving this reality and entering the next. w00t.
January 28, 2003: Part A
Today, in my one of my classes, the word soluble was mentioned. This boy (who will remain nameless, and yes he is a boy) did not know what this meant. So being the nice person that I am, I told him that he's an idiot because we've been hearing that word since 6th grade...he got upset...I told him to lower his idiocy level before I was forced to take action to save my intellect from the negative influences of his leech-like peanut brain...he gave me a blank look...I asked if he'd like to borrow my dictionary...I got yelled at fer lowering his self-esteem. It’s not my fault the tard had a vocabulary lower than a five year old...feking idiots.
January 28, 2003: Part B
This thought goes out to all of the people who are having a rough time at the moment. I know things may seem bad now, but they will get better. Every dark has its light. Every night, has its dawn. It’s simply a matter of pushing through the dark into the light. And there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There IS a light at the end of the tunnel. You may not be able to see it now, but trust me when I say it’s there. Take it from a manic-depressive schizophrenic; there is a light. And never, ever do anything rash simply because you had a bad day. That’s just screaming stupidity.
January 29, 2003
I hate my damn family. They come over, expecting to use my computer, print things on my printer, use up all my ink, then scream at me when they can’t print more of their useless crap. Thank gods I’m a preferred reader at the library (yes I know it’s pathetic. vampire red hair, full camouflage, being in the preferred reader club. gods I’m such a loser.) and I can use the printer fer free. And what’s the deal with the constant mental abuse.? I know I’m a huge disappointment you idiots. And I know that you hate me, but do you have to rub it in my face all the damn time.? Do I throw your extreme lack of intellect in your face all of the time.? I may rub your nose in the fact that I have a stronger vocabulary than you, and I may go out of my way to make you feel inferior, (but you are and you know it you stoopid fools) but I don’t slap you down every damn day. Get a life slime wads, and leave me to mine.
January 30, 2003: Part A
Freaking jocks. I hate them. There’s this stoopid football player whose name I can’t remember at the moment, who insists on making my life one large fight for social supremacy. It’s like Jock vs. Freak, bus doors open at 2, fight starts at 2:15. Be there or be octagonal. I find his pathetic rebuttals mildly amusing, and it’s a lovely way to kill a two-hour bus ride. Today, he told me to “go join the army b-yoch”…at which point I calmly told him to “bite a goat foolish mortal.” That is a great insult. It catches them off-guard and they usually stammer a weak response. After a few moments of dumb staring, he ignored me and began conversing with his football pals and I went back to my book. (Fair Peril, it’s a very amusing book.) Every once in awhile the words ‘foolish mortal’ drifts by me, but I ignore them and continue reading. Then BOOM, the jock is next to me in the seat. Idiot...don’t sit next to me on the bus...I like my own seat...and I sure as hell don’t want to share it with a damn jock. He starts babbling on an on about how he wants to be friends, and what’s in the hotdog, do you keep something in that cheeseburger, why do you have such a large purse, why do you always wear camo, blah blah blah. I just wanted to reach over and smack him. He’s so annoying. Negative amounts of intelligence...I told him that too...he just stared at me...damn jock...go play football you tard.
January 30, 2003: Part B
I was discussing bestiality with DK today; it was a rather interesting conversation. I don’t really recall how the conversation started, I think we were talking about licking animals, then we somehow got to goats, then boom we hit bestiality. Of course this got everyone around us moaning and groaning about how sick that was...it really set them off when I said everyone’s the same in the dark...I heard some interesting curses. I thought DK was going to throw up, so I said use a little Vaseline and it’s all good. He got up and left. I need to acquire a goat and put it on his front porch...
January 31, 2003
Did you ever feel like the gods are chain-smokes and you are the only ashtray.? I had one of those days today. Well, one of those decades really. You just want to reach out and smack someone, but you restrain yourself for a reason you can’t even pinpoint. Perhaps you get so lost in keeping up the image of a pariah that you truly lose yourself. Quite an interesting concept, you’re so wrapped up in remaining cool and calm that you lose your emotions. Don’t get me wrong, you do not stop feeling them, you simply stop recognizing them. Then you go beyond pariah, you enter that little world of non-human humanoids. Emotions are what make humans human, but if one does not feel, then one becomes merely humanoid. But what would that make you.? A sociopath.? A psychotic.? A delusional.? Perhaps a little of each.? Or do you simply become a true pariah.? Are there multiple shades of pariahism.? Perhaps what we call a pariah isn’t truly a pariah, only an outsider. Whatever the case, I rather enjoy my social standing, whatever it may be. Just mark me under ‘other.’
