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Leave out all the rest

Post your secrets, fears, hopes, dreams, pet peeves, etc... [Sep. 25th, 2012|06:29 pm]
Post them here! Anonymous commenting is turned ON. So have fun, and don't be afraid to spill your guts. :D
Link27 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

Because you NEED to know how I feel right now. [Feb. 9th, 2010|03:46 pm]
I'm watching an episode of CSI right now, it's about four AM, and I'm feeling nostalgic for six months ago and prior to that. I won't explain because the details are a cloud of mud and obnoxious fighting on both ends, but I no longer have a Sara Sidle to my Gilbert Grissom. I don't have any friends who are CSI savvy (whom I talk to regularly, love my CSI friends that still exist).
I was hoping that the CSI episode I randomly selected would inspire me to write some new CSI fic, but I have no idea. I've got no creativity in anything except Sims right now. I don't like that. I've destroyed the life of a certain person who will remain nameless on my Sims game five times, and you know what? I could do it five more.
I love how people can FORGIVE other people and then dangle the shit they FORGAVE people for in front of people saying OMFG I DIDN'T FORGIVE YOU YOU WHORE. I also love how people can be self centered and think that they're the ONLY people other people rant about, even when THEY get bitchy when other people question if they're being bitched about when a person's not being specific. Yeah.
So... My life right now.... Picking up pieces, getting my shit together, drinking away bad memories, smoking away ugly pounds, and playing Sims. I have a decent job, have gotten two raises since coming back from California.
Which brings me to my next thing, since I'm cross posting this EVERYWHERE, for everyone who doesn't know or didn't know or hadn't been told or has been living under a rock, yes, I'm back in Minnesota, back in Fridley, back at BP, working five days a week every week. I have a new laptop, which I am using right now to write this, and will be using to upload this everywhere sometime in the afternoon tomorrow/today/whatever.
I don't know, this could just be a ranty blog/note/update/whatev but it feels good to type it. It's cathartic. It's nice to release this pent up emotional storm on the world finally. My life's been a rollercoaster that I've wanted to stop and get off of lately, but I'm still here. Finding me seems to be the most amazingly difficult thing I've ever done. It seems that every time I move, graduate, binge, purge, starve, recover, drink, smoke, smoke funky stuff, I have to find myself again, and it seems less and less likely that the me that I find will be someone I can enjoy being.
I'm a bitch. I'm not going to candy coat that. I'm mean, I hiss and spit, I swear and claw. I don't sugar coat shit. I don't like being backed into a corner and chided, and it feels like that's what keeps happening to me by EVERYONE. Oh my god, I mention that my biological clock's tick tick ticking is bugging me, I get pushed back into a corner by people saying what a shit mother I would be and what a shit life I would give children because OMFG I DON'T WANT TO GET MARRIED AND GET A DIFFERENT JOB AND MOVE IN WITH PEOPLE AND STAY HOME ALL DAY EVERY DAY WITH A BABY. Doesn't matter that that's how MILLIONS of people work with their children, single mothers, single fathers, even happy married couples utilize SOME form of daycare. Doesn't matter that I'm in NO position to have a kid ANYWAY, doesn't matter that there isn't a guy alive who would sleep with me to MAKE said fictional baby, and doesn't matter that I wouldn't go through with it until I actually had my own place for at least a year.
It's like I have to walk around on eggshells so as not to offend people I've known for years, which is absolute bullshit. I shouldn't HAVE to walk on eggshells. I shouldn't have to put up with being chided and backed into a corner until I feel like a fucking pitbull that's been starved and teased and tortured to be trained to fight. I get scared. I get pissed. I have a temper that scares the shit out of ME, I don't want to start going off on others.
The fact that I'm dealing with my inner workings and the shit that goes on in my head WHILE having to walk on eggshells and all that is making me break. I am a crying mess at the end of most nights, huddled under the blankets with a kitten who boops my nose until I sleep. I am lonely. Most days the best conversation I have is "Hi." "Hi." "Can you make me some lunch?" "Yeah I guess." with my mom.
I don't know. It feels like I'm drifting away from everyone and everything I used to know and love and that scares me, angers me.

C'est la vie.
LinkWhen my time comes

I'm still alive [Jan. 7th, 2010|04:18 pm]
Just no internet right now. Will be getting internet at home HOPEFULLY in like.... a month? Two months? IDK. Anyway...

Love you all quite dearly still.

Keep on keepin on!

~splendagriss
LinkWhen my time comes

[Jul. 23rd, 2009|06:44 pm]
Anyone know a place I can roleplay as Weird Al?
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

Please help me [Jun. 29th, 2009|10:16 pm]
I need 100 dollars total to finish paying my cell phone bill. Please. All I ask is that you consider ordering a custom barette, headband, bracelet, necklace, or other accessory from mine and my friend's accessory store, Sordid Scandal. go to www.stickam.com/sordidscandal to view products, and please email sordidscandal@yahoo.com with order information. Please. Please find it in your heart to try to help.
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

[Jun. 9th, 2009|04:25 pm]
Yah so I'm in California now. Um, srsly.
LinkWhen my time comes

Short, depressing Grissdeath!fic [Mar. 2nd, 2009|10:21 pm]
A man lay, bleeding, in an alley in Las Vegas, his blood diluting and disappearing in the torrential downpour of a late winter rain. People pass, many glance down the alley, not seeing the poor man, not hearing his near-silent cries for help as he struggles to stay conscious.
“Help... please...”

It wasn't my intention to walk home that night. The weather channel had been forecasting rain that night for the entire week, and Vegas was under a flash-flood warning. I had every intention of driving.
When I'd woken up that morning, however, it was a bright, breezy, sunny day, with a high temperature of 75. My better judgment was sent packing as I put on my light winter jacket and started out on my bike. After all, it was only a few miles to the crime lab, and I was sure that my co-workers would get a kick out of me riding a bike to work.
I arrived early for my weekly day shift, when my team and the day team switched shifts so we could make better use of the resources either team had to work our cases. My team enjoyed these days, but I didn't. It meant I had to interrupt my routine. And the routine is the only thing that kept me reasonably sane.
I got off my bike at the front door and took my helmet off, rubbing a hand carelessly through the mass of gray hair that covered my scalp. As I was wheeling my bike into the building, I heard a familiar set of footsteps coming up behind me. “Hey Cath,” I said, not bothering to turn around.
“Gil, are you actually riding a bike?” I heard the shock and mild amusement in her voice. I scratched my head and shrugged. “I didn't know you knew how.”
“Of course I do, who doesn't?”
She chuckled and walked past me, calling back, “I'll be in the ballistics lab if you need me!”
“Mr. Grissom, good morning!” the receptionist called as I approached the desk, “you have a message from Sara and a message from Warrick.”
“Thanks,” I replied as she handed me the notes. I read them as I walked my bike back to my office; notes in one hand, middle of the bike's handlebars in the other. I heard a few idle conversations stop as I passed people in the hall, hushed whispers falling on deaf ears. People think I don't understand the basics of human interaction.
I do, all too well.

Griss,
I can't do this anymore. I'm so sorry.
There's just no way I can keep on keeping
this secret. I love you, I always will.
Goodbye.
-Sara

My car broke down, I won't
be in until, at earliest, four
thirty. -Warrick
I tossed the notes on my desk and let my bike fall to the floor, which it hit with a clattering bang. I heaved a sigh and looked at the note from Warrick, avoiding Sara's note. Warrick was going to be late, and I was working the case with him. Nick and Cath were working their case together, and now Greg had his own case.
“Sara...” I breathed, a sigh escaping my lips and forming her name.
“Hey, Grissom,” a voice, Greg's, called from my doorway, “everything okay? We heard a crash.”
I could feel my shoulders tense up. I couldn't let them know what was going on. “Oh, I knocked my bike over. No big deal.”

The shift went off like normal. Warrick showed up only a few hours late, and everyone avoided the subject of Sara like the plague. We pushed off an interrogation until the early half of the next week, and, although I was invited by Nick and Cath to come to dinner, I politely declined and mounted my bike.
It had just started raining as I pulled out of the Crime Lab's parking lot. I almost wished I'd stayed late to work, but that note from Sara still lay there on my desk. I couldn't bear to throw it out.
I decided to take a shortcut through the alley behind the diner that my friends were to be gathering that evening for coffee and 'the best breakfast in town!,' hoping that maybe they'd still be there (they had, after all, left the lab half an hour before I had), and that maybe they wouldn't mind me joining them after all. The rain was cold and sharp against my back.
As I readied myself to turn around the front of the building, a crack of thunder boomed through the alley and I found myself falling forward. My bike crashed to the ground, its sound muffled by the rain and my own body hitting the pavement. Dazed, I felt a sharp pain surge through my body, localizing somewhere near my stomach.
I looked up and saw a kid who couldn't be much older than fifteen, take my bike and wordlessly ride off. I choked out, “help me.”

It was hours before anyone noticed the man laying in the alley. By then, it was too late. He'd all but succumbed to the wound to his abdomen.
His friends were walking to their cars when they noticed the ambulance. Sara recognized his loafers sticking out from the bottom of the stretcher.
They'd been trying to throw him a surprise party for the promotion he didn't know he was getting.
LinkWhen my time comes

I heard there was a secret chord that david played and it pleased the lord [Feb. 26th, 2009|10:13 pm]
So yeah I'm back, sorta. :/ I'm sorry I neglect this journal so much. I'm sorry I neglect you all so much. I really love having you all as friends, you know? I feel like I could tell you anything.

Anyway, I've got a couple of CSI ficlets coming out here soon, (and one majorly epic fic I've been neglecting, and a few other projects I gotta work on... but yeah.

Life's been pretty boring, other than work every day and my epic ceiling hole being fixed! so I have a ceiling again! FUCK YEAH!

I got a wii, it's beautiful.

Um... other than that.. not much.

I'll have to go through and start commenting on people's journals I s'pose.

LOTS OF LOVE!
Link3 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

ok fer srs i love u guys [Feb. 25th, 2009|07:31 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |work]
[Current Music |jackfm]

ok first off id anyone wantd to donateto my car fund paypal is emmaline.westlund@gmail.com and all donations are graciously accepted and used toward my dream car, a wonderful beautiful chrysler town and country 2008 minivan they are gorg, simply gorg.

also srsly whether you know it or not love you guys so fucking much and i've been such a suck for not updating/commenting but i PROMISE I WILL COMMENT AND UPDATE THIS EVENING AFTER WORK.



MUCHO AMOR, TODOS!!
LinkWhen my time comes

as my childhood slowly dies of cancer and old age... [Feb. 18th, 2009|03:44 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Mood | gloomy]

i have to go to a funeral in the morning my dads aunt, daisy, died last night. she'd been suffering from bone cancer for years.

i'll post more later. i feel like puking ugh
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

When my time comes, forget the wrongs that I've done [Jan. 15th, 2009|10:50 pm]
So I guess I owe this journal, and probably most of its readers (I kid, I kid, ALL OF MY FRIENDS AND READERS) a real entry. So I guess this will be it.

I updated that I had a girlfriend. Yes. I did. And then I didn't. And then I did. And now I don't. I'm lonely, but you know it's the kind of lonely that can't be filled with anything tangible. It's more of the kind that needs me to come to terms with things and release my past to the universe.
I don't know, I guess first of all I do want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry to all of you for bringing you down to my level or lower with my depressed rants and my OMFG stupidity, ya know? I'm sorry. I hope you can all forgive me.
My mental health has been deteriorating rather quickly this winter. I've gone through stages where I'm practically comatose, and ones where I want nothing more than death.

Right now I just need my me time. My IRL friends (the ones I see constantly here in MN) don't quite get that. My GIRLFRIEND didn't get that. I'm sorry, but I would have thought if I could have trusted ANYONE, it would've been her.
She didn't understand that I just CAN'T do an overnight at JUST ANYWHERE anymore. She didn't understand that that's how the rapes happened (most of them, anyway), that that's how I was abused. Or how I was saved.

I really want a Bella to my Edward. I want someone I can smother (for lack of a better word) with the excess love I have to give. I really am a very loving person, I'm a very intense person, and a passionate one, but my previous relationships were all so.... painful, it's hard for me to get close enough to wonder how it might be were I to get close enough to kill... so to speak.

I can't latch myself onto someone strong again. I've been the trusting Bella far too many times, and it's never worked, other than to turn me into an UGLY version of Edward, a fat, slovenly slug that really shouldn't date to begin with. But I still try.

I wish I could find someone who can just understand that, that I need someone I can just care for and be loving to-- but still be able to keep my distance. I need that person who's like a drug to me, which can and will make me both cling to them and keep my distance.

I've become quite the Twilight freak, forgive me. It's an interesting series but I slap myself pretty hard if I start fangirling, so I do try to keep it in check.

I am still working seven days a week, so that is keeping me busy most of the time, but it doesn't help ALWAYS.

I'm PRAYING that I will be able to move out here in the next six months. I need an escape.

I've dove headfirst back down the bottomless pit of ED-NOS, but that's not gonna be a problem until I've lost about 120 pounds, so don't worry.
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

OK! [Jan. 10th, 2009|05:35 pm]
Come see my new layout! It's purdyful. :D Isn't it?

SPARKLY FUCKIN VAMPIRE!
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

Part two of Grissom's Demise and some rant [Jan. 6th, 2009|06:35 pm]
Grissoms )


My most vivid memories are when I'm being dumped. I really could probably not tell you that much about my previous relationships other than the very beginning and the ass end of them. That is, except the one with Jonathan. I've spoken of him previously in here too. The rapist, abuser, and gentle lover all built into one. He was the first serious relationship I was ever in.
I wish I could get rid of that fact.
LinkWhen my time comes

a happy new year indeed [Jan. 1st, 2009|06:04 am]
happy new year i now have a girlfriend and a new phone
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

Happy christmas, y'all (a day late) [Dec. 26th, 2008|06:57 pm]
I just got my christmas present today: a BRAND FUCKING NEW HDTV, 19" AND WIDESCREEN. WIDESCREEN, PPL. Now I just need my next paycheck and HELLLLLLOOOOOO WII!

[info]iconographer For once, when I say your commission is almost done, I really and fully mean it. I actually have one last page to draw and color and I'll send you parts 2 and 3 via teh emails.

Ummm, CSI fans:

Grissom's Demise--Part the First, a new case )

Even if you aren't a CSI fan, couldja take two minutes, read that through, and see if it makes any sense whatsoever?
Link4 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

.....aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! [Dec. 15th, 2008|06:31 pm]
I think.

:)

sorry I'm so inactive, I miss y'all terribly. I've been working EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. And shall continue to for as long as he keeps giving me tons of fucking money. So yeah. :)

What's been going on with you fun people?
Link3 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

That was the fastest I've ever devoured a book series [Nov. 22nd, 2008|05:05 am]
And I mean EVER. I finished reading breaking dawn</b>, the final book in the Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer today. About five minutes ago. I will now proceed to grade this series as I see fit.

All in all, it was an interesting story, however, a rather predictable one. Here is my grading scale:

5 = amazing, nothing could top this shit!
4 = good, I've read or seen better
3 = it had its moments, somewhat decent
2 = eh
1 = wtf, this shit sucks, seriously, my two year old niece writes better crap
0 = you totally lost me, could you repeat kindergarten and learn how to spell/read/grammar?

Titles (twilight, new moon, eclipse, breaking dawn): 3

Main Characters:
-Bella: 1
-Edward: 2
-Emmett: 5 (seriously, he has the most personality of the group)
-Carlisle: 2
-Esme: 2
-Alice: 3
-Rosalie: 1
-Jasper: 0
-Jacob: 2
++Overall: 2

Grammar/spelling: 3

General readability: 1

Chance that the books were printed on paper made from crack cocaine, methamphetamines, and/or heroin?: 5

Wordiness: 3

Stephenie Meyers' futile attempts to bring up reading level by inserting random "big" words?: 5 (for effort, purely.)

Minor/Supporting characters: 0

Probability that I will never read the books again: 4

Final analysis: Books were definitely intended for teenagers, based on storyline, however would be better suited for the beginning reader, based on reading skill necessary to power through them. A person of college-level reading skill could very well power through them in 20 hours, if they gave up sleep and bathroom breaks. Grammar was not always correct, and the characters pandered far too much. Bella Swan is the biggest Mary Sue in the history of books that I have read, closely followed by Harry Potter.



And if you love the books, don't flame me. I couldn't fucking care less, mmkay?
Link4 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

Please clicky? [Nov. 19th, 2008|06:03 am]
Adopt one today!|Adopt one today!|Adopt one today!|Adopt one today!|
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

Stolen from [info]iconographer [Nov. 18th, 2008|02:15 pm]
Step One
- Make a post (public, friendslocked, filtered...whatever you're comfortable with) to your journal. The post should contain your list of 10 holiday wishes. The wishes can be anything at all, from simple and fandom-related ("I'd love a Snape/Hermione icon that's just for me") to medium ("I wish for _____ on DVD") to really big ("All I want for Christmas is a new car/computer/house/TV.") The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want.

- If you wish for real life things (not fics or icons), make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it's your address or just your email address where Santa (or one of his elves) could get in touch with you.

- Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your LJ, so that the holiday joy will spread.

Step Two
- Surf around your friendslist (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here's the important part:

- If you see a wish you can grant, and it's in your heart to do so, make someone's wish come true. Sometimes someone's trash is another's treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don't want or a gift certificate you won't use--or even know where you could get someone's dream purebred Basset Hound for free--do it.

You needn't spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn't to put people out, it's to provide everyone a chance to be someone else's holiday elf--to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not--it's your call.

There are no rules with this project, no guarantees, and no strings attached. Just...wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you'll have the joy of knowing you made someone's holiday special.

My list )


All comments are screened
LinkWhen my time comes

Novel journal! [Nov. 11th, 2008|07:24 pm]
[info]vampirelike is my novel journal. I'll be updating it shortly with the first bit of this novel I'm working on.

Anyone who is friends with me on this journal is entirely welcome to add me there. :D
LinkWhen my time comes

Poll tiem! [Nov. 10th, 2008|09:06 pm]
Poll #2689 Novel journal?
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

My NaNoWriMo novel is taking over my soul. I should:

View Answers

Keep it to myself; no one wants to read it!
1 (20.0%)

Post random chapters here for review/editing purposes; Some people are mildly interested in reading.
2 (40.0%)

Make a completely new journal just for it; I wanna read it!
2 (40.0%)

Make a completely new journal just for it, and have entries just pertaining to specific characters, re-posting chapters as they go through the editing phases; POST IT NOW, WOMAN!
2 (40.0%)

TICKY BOX TICKY BOX TICKY BOX
3 (60.0%)

Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

Na No Wri Mo [Nov. 10th, 2008|08:59 am]
It has taken my soul hostage.  DX  My novel is going surprisingly well, however, as I have written more than 5000 words in the past 24 hours, and I just restarted my novel 24 hours ago.  Hee.  :)

It's about vampires.  It's kind of a twilight parody.  Kind of.  But not really.

How's everyone else doing on theirs?

Link me if you've got them uploaded!  I wanna read!
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

PLEASE DON'T THINK THAT THIS QUESTION HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE MOOD I'VE BEEN IN [Nov. 7th, 2008|11:54 pm]
It's really just a hypothetical question. Like one of those "If you saw an ant crawling across the sidewalk, would you step on it or not?" think of it like that only less wtf? or maybe more wtf? Because my mind's all like death oriented (but not as badly like OMG GONNA KILL SELF BRB as before). So, again, PLEASE don't take it the wrong way. It's not meant to be nearly as morbid as it could potentially seem if you compare it to my previous entries.

Okay, so, assume that you're here (or I'm there) and I/we/a group of people with us has gotten in a fight with some other group/person/stranger/ant/whatever, and I am BADLY injured (like, possibly never going to walk again, or, never going to be able to breathe without a respirator again, or have to eat through a tube the rest of my days, whatever you deem to be like severely injured). We both notice a gun on the floor/ground/floating in space/in some random dead guy's hand, and I ask/gurgle/plead with my eyes/telepathically beg you to put me out of my misery, just shoot me somewhere where it's gonna kill me. Do you do it, or would you call an ambulance and hope for the best?



AGAIN, NOT MEANT TO BE HALF AS MORBID AS IT COULD COME ACROSS!
Link4 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Nov. 5th, 2008|03:27 am]
I wanted to share with you all the first part of my NaNoWriMo Novel. So here it is. Part one. Enjoy!



Part One: You're mad, mad, mad

Two men in white lab coats led the young woman down a long corridor, passing many locked and barred doors, some with tiny rectangular windows above the doorknobs, most without. She stared at the floor the entire time, counting the tiles as she walked. Every few tiles, she noticed, there was a small, perfectly circular, droplet of red liquid, possibly blood.
Looking up, she noticed that she had, in fact, managed to injure one of the men who had taken her from the car. In her stupor, she hadn't realized in the car where she was being taken. She'd barely been able to tell that the car was moving, even, but now that the drugs were wearing off, she knew all too well what was going on. She'd lunged at the men as they tried to help her, clawing and biting at anything that she could.
They stopped at the far end of the corridor, and the men stepped aside, motioning her into the dark, tiny room just ahead. She had half a mind to turn around and run, but knew it would be a futile attempt. As soon as she'd gotten past the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her, and locks clicked into place to seal her in.

10/1
Dear Diary,
I can't believe I have to keep a diary. This sucks, you know? I have nothing to write out here, really. There's no stupid feelings clogging my brain. I have no emotions, good or bad, toward any hot-button issue. In fact, I really could care less about everything in this world. Apparently, that's a problem.
Until they can figure out why I'm so apathetic, as they call it, I can't go home. Instead, I'm confined to this tiny white prison cell, on the 19th floor of the mental institution. I have no books, no television, nothing but this typewriter and a ream of paper. Like it's going to do me any good.
Okay, I guess maybe I have a little bit of resentment. That's an emotion, right? I'm resentful of this whole process. I'm 17 years old, for crying out loud, I should be able to be apathetic! But no. Morton and Julia decided that their perfect daughter was the only child they needed. So the second they saw something in me that they didn't like, I find myself in the backseat of the old station wagon, strapped in tight and pumped full of sedatives.
I'm already sick of writing this, so I think I will stop after I answer the questions they have set out for me today.
Name? Delia Rebecca Jacobson
Age? 17
Height? 5'2”
Weight? A woman never tells
Ambition in life? To get out of this room
Favorite animal? Don't have one

Delia sighed and stared at the paper. She felt tired, so she dimmed the light in the room and curled up on her bed and closed her eyes. Through the tiny window opposite her small hospital bed she could see a church steeple. She wondered what if there was a service going on, even pondered the existance of God for a moment, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

10/2
Dear Diary,
I've been being lectured all day. I don't speak with enough emotion, therefore they won't give me what I ask for. At dinner, I asked for salt because the fish they placed before me was very bland, no flavor to it at all. I was rejected, and made to either eat the bland fish, or sit in this cell until I could muster up the ability to change the tone and pitch to my voice. I met another person being held captive here, a boy.
I didn't catch his name. He's being held for Anorexia Nervosa and Bipolar Disorder. He wouldn't eat. He told me that I sound like a female Ben Stein. I asked him who Ben Stein was.
Apparently, they check these journal entries to make sure that I do them every day. I don't really understand how I could not do them daily, since all I have been allowed to do since I arrived has been sleep, type this out, and eat bland food.
Karly, the Aide who's been assigned to me four days a week, said that she wanted to read more about Morton and Julia. So I guess I shall oblige.
Morton is not my birth father. In fact, I have no real relation to him at all. He never married Julia, who, by the way, isn't my mother, but actually my oldest sister, but got her pregnant with my younger “sister” when I was five. Mom croaked, dad had long since gone missing and has been presumed dead, and I got stuck with my sisters and Morton.
He's a computer software designer, I guess. Julia is a walking uterus. There are an extra 10 children in the foster and adoption system because she can't keep her legs shut. Oh, there's that hint of resentment again. Look out, world, I have an emotion!
Julia has never kept a stable job. In nearly 30 years of existence, she's had, probably, five hundred jobs, and kept maybe seven of those for more than two weeks. Instead, she periodically makes- er, made- myself and my sisters give her all of our money for months on end, no matter what job we are doing, no matter how low the pay, no matter what we might be trying to save for.

“Lights out!” a familiar voice called from the hallway. Delia looked up, and for a second almost felt sad that she couldn't finish typing her entry. She'd sat down, intending to write a very long entry, but when faced with the keyboard, couldn't bring herself to unleash all the strange little thoughts that had plagued her the whole day.

10/3
Dear Diary,
I wonder why they make me keep using the pleasantries of “dear diary” when I write in this stupid thing. I mean, seriously, you aren't a living being, you aren't a friend of mine, you aren't my dear. So why do I have to do it?
I'm tired. They wouldn't let me sleep last night, I guess they were trying to get me frustrated. It didn't work, and now I think they are frustrated. Understandably, really, I mean, I've just gone so far into my “shell” that I just don't care anymore, but even that isn't right. I don't care, but I don't not care. I don't have any “caring” emotion whatsoever. I don't even know why, and I'm not so sure it's such a bad thing as everyone says it is. I'm better this way, I think. I don't have to act on emotional impulse. I can dawdle as long as I want, or I can go quickly into whatever action I feel is best to do. But wait, I don't feel.
Well, maybe I should elaborate on that. I do feel, like pain and the softness of a silken cloth, but I don't feel the emotions that go with either sensation. I don't cry when I get hurt, I proved that when I fell down the stairs this morning, and the smell of bacon doesn't make me miss my mother. They're senses. Without them I'd be a little lost. The emotions aren't necessary. Yes, Karly, I am writing that directly at you.

“Hey, Delia, do you have a minute?” one of the nurses for the 19th floor, Lana, asked, poking her head into the room. Delia shrugged and pushed back the typewriter. “I've been writing out your report for the end of the day, and I was wondering if your therapy has been having any negative effects that you've noticed since your Aides have gone home?”
Delia thought for a moment, then responded, “They're making me think. And I'm not much into thinking.”
Lana smiled softly, “But sometimes thinking is the one thing that we must do, whether we want to or not. Sleep well.”
Before Delia could ask what she meant by that, the nurse was gone.

10/4
Formalities and pleasantries are being pushed aside from now on. I guess you could say I don't feel like using them. Thank you, I'll be here all week.
I have good news, I guess. Julia has signed my care over completely to this institution. So this room is mine until I'm 21. It'd be 18, but since I am not allowed to procure a job on my own while I am staying here, I have to wait until I'm 21 to receive the money that my father “left” for me when he decided to high-tail it out of the country. Or, you know, where ever he went.
Because I will be living here until I turn 21, they are shipping my personal items to me; my clothes, my books, my television and movie collection. At least I won't be bored. Or, whatever this emotionless equivalent is.
They did get some sort of response from me today, I guess. I was doing my schoolwork, Calculus, to be exact (I have always been at the top of my class. I'm just gifted like that), and a ladybug flew in through the window in the community room. It landed on the book I was using. I guess I smiled at it before I flicked it away. Mikaela and Jonathan, my Aides for two and five days a week, respectively, both commented when I turned my work in. I shrugged.
I don't count a smile as an emotional response. I count it as, well, I don't quite know what I count it as. I don't know if it even counts as a response.

10/5
I met my doctor today, finally. From what I've been able to gather for information, this place is at full capacity right now, which apparently means that the doctors and therapists are barely able to keep up, and five days of waiting is probably the shortest amount of time passing between admission and evaluation.
I've been throwing up ever since leaving his office, though. I think I may be having an allergic reaction to his bullshit, to be honest. Oh no, there's that “resentment” again.

10/6
I've been in this room all day. Seriously. I have not been allowed out except to go pee. And they rushed me through peeing. So I barely could pee. But whatever, it's pee, I guess. If my bladder explodes, it was meant to be.
Mikaela is out sick, so Jonathan had to come in on his day off. He “had to.” I don't think I understand why I have to have three different Aides that overlap their time in such a backward way. I think I wrote about this a few days ago. They come in, Mikaela for two days, Karly for four days, and Jonathan for five days, all in a row. And they each have two days off between these streaks of working.
Mikaela also works with a mentally disabled child for three days each week, she does so for the three days prior to the days she works with me. Karly works with that boy I mentioned earlier, the Bipolar Anorexic? I found out his name is David. And apparently he talks about me. A lot.
Jonathan is sitting next to me right now watching everything I type. He laughed at that last sentence. And that one. I guess he finds it amusing that I can write about someone as though they aren't even really there, but they really are looking over my shoulder.
Seriously, Jonathan, you'll be reading this thing soon enough. Stop it. No, this is not anger I am displaying. I am merely questioning why exactly you feel the need to look over my shoulder as I type this out!

Jonathan laughed and took Delia by the arm. “I want to show you something. You can finish your diary later.” Delia looked up at him, then obliged and walked with him. He led her down two flights of stairs and into a small room that was decorated with brightly colored stars and planets. “I read in your profile that, when you were younger, you loved going to the planetarium. Well, this might not be accurate, but it can be quite pretty,” he explained, closing the door and dimming the lights.
At the very center of the room there was a large sphere on a thick post. There seemed to be tiny holes in the sphere. Delia was just about to touch it when a light came on inside it and the sphere began to rotate, sending sparkling dots of light across the ceiling, floor, and walls.
A very tiny smile began to form on her lips before disappearing behind the indifferent expression she'd had for so long.

10/6
Patient D. Jacobson shows signs of awareness, however seems to lack ability to respond properly to stimuli. Jacobson begins to acknowledge things, and promptly masks said response, either willfully or not. It has yet to be determined how extensive her problem is, however, it is my theory as her Aide, that we should allow her to be a teenager. Let her put posters up in her room, sit on the internet for hours on end, and relax. I am certain that if we give her some freedom to do things that she wants to, she will begin to respond more naturally.

~J. Arnold

10/7
My stuff started arriving today, my old familiar pieces (bed, clothing, doll collection) along with a few things I didn't recognize as mine (a computer. A COMPUTER!) Needless to say, I am a little bit taken aback. Yes, an emotion. I was not expecting to receive such an interesting addition to my collection of blandness in this tiny room. Karly says that Jonathan wrote to my treatment advisor and asked that I be allowed to “just be a kid” for once, I guess.
I have begun to set up the computer. Well, the computers. I don't know why, but they gave me a desktop and a laptop, both loaded with software packages that had to have cost many thousands of dollars. It's a nice sentiment, I guess. I also received a cordless mouse and keyboard for the desktop computer, and two tablets, one for each computer. Everything is already installed, which means that there is, most likely, a bunch of spyware and firewalls on the internet connection.
But I definitely will not look this gift horse in the mouth. This is a huge step forward in their feelings toward me, not to mention probably a ploy to get me to drop my guard.
I also received a schedule of things I will get to do and see beyond the walls of this institution. Mondays I get to visit the mall with Jonathan or Karly. Thursdays I can choose to attend a theater class at the local community center. Fridays and Saturdays are open to field trips and visits to off-site therapists. Sundays I may attend any religious ceremonies I would like (Saturdays are also open to this).
But I may only keep this schedule if my schoolwork does not suffer. Oh no, I have a stipulation to follow! They say that this sarcasm I am beginning to develop may be a good thing. After all, it is better than when I arrived and they had to poke me and prod me to get me to write or talk.
They also will be allowing me to create things for money. Well, not exactly. I will be creating art pieces and/or crafts (depending on what I feel like doing) to sell in a local bazaar during the weekly farmers' market. I can have half of the money my items sell for, and I think I would like that.
Before Julia decided that Morton was the best thing since sliced bread, I used to draw and paint and knit. I had a whole storage room in the basement absolutely full of stacks of papers and canvases, blankets, shirts, hooded sweatshirts and socks that I had made. But when Morton moved in, he made a point of dragging all of it out into the yard and burning it while I watched.
I had begged Julia to make him stop, let me keep just one of my artistic wares. I swore to her that they could be worth money, that if she would just tell him that they could be sold, they could make plenty of cash. But she didn't do anything.
The flames burned through the night, smoldering into the morning. The fire spread to what I hoped to be, destroying every dream and every chance to escape. When finally the smoke cleared, I was left a shell of what I once was, broken and beaten.

10/8
Mikaela helped me stretch a canvas today. It was huge, barely small enough to fit through the doorways here. Karly is going to take me to buy paint tomorrow. I can't wait to paint!

10/8
D. Jacobson is beginning to act more like a teenager and less like a mass of flesh. She actually cracked a smile for a moment this afternoon- a smile that lasted a full three minutes, I might add. I believe that the stimuli that we provide for her is working, even if only a little bit. Tomorrow I am asking K. Tally to have Jacobson paint without any reference. Darken the room, if we must. I am on to something, I know it.
~M. Daan

Delia stared blankly out the window, almost as though she was trying to figure out what the exact temperature of the autumn air was at that moment. As another young woman entered the room, however, she turned and made eye contact.
“Ready to hit the mall?” Karly, the other young woman, asked. Delia nodded slowly, then noticed a small boy by Karly's side. Karly smiled softly. “I hope you don't mind, but I figured that my son, Ashton, would enjoy the walk.”
“Hi!” the small boy said, as if on cue. Delia stood up and walked over to the little boy. She knelt down without hesitation and scooped him up in her arms, hugging him tightly. Karly, acting on instinct, went to pull the child away, but seeing the tears that were welling up in Delia's eyes, she stopped.
“Mommy?” Ashton asked, looking up at his mother as Delia held onto him.
“It's okay, sweetheart, she won't hurt you.”
After a few moments, Delia let go of the young boy, and, without wiping her eyes, stood up, took Karly's hand, and took Ashton's hand, and they walked down the long corridor and boarded the elevator.

10/9
Karly says that I reacted rather strangely to her son. I don't even remember meeting her son, to tell the truth. There was a little boy with us, I guess, today. She stuck me in the main room when we got back from picking out paint and paint brushes. Kept it dark in there except for a small lamp that attached to the top of the canvas. Told me to paint whatever I felt like, not what I saw.
She was rather disappointed, I think, when all I painted was a small black spider, hanging off of a leaf. I think she wanted me to paint the reason I am so quiet and so emotionless. But that wasn't what she told me to paint. She said “whatever I feel like painting,” so I did.

10/10
I was visited by a very unusual man today. He was a few inches taller than me, blond hair, blue eyes, thick-rimmed glasses, wearing a suit. He asked me questions about my sisters. Apparently Melissa and Joanie, my other two older sisters, have gone missing. He never showed me a badge or anything, so I doubt he was a cop. Even so, I didn't tell him much. Just that Joanie and Melissa didn't much like me when they still lived at home, and after mother died, they both took to drugs.
He also asked about mother and father. How mom died, when dad disappeared, the usual. I told him I didn't know anything. I was really young at the time, anyway. He commented that I sound like a female Ben Stein, who, by the way, I finally did look up via that search engine “goggle” or whatever, and I DO NOT SOUND LIKE HIM. At least I don't think so.
I watched a movie today. It was about a cannibal. A rather eloquent one, in fact. Made me laugh when we were served fava beans at dinner. David, the Bipolar Anorexic, has taken a turn for the worse, I guess. He wasn't at dinner. I saw him walking the halls, hooked up to some weird IV thing. I guess he decided he'd rather go the hard way than just eat.
I don't understand that disease, Anorexia. I searched that on the internet today, too. Apparently it usually afflicts the teenage girls about my age and younger. I don't understand how anyone could starve themselves like that. I eat like a hog, and I enjoy eating like a hog. I don't gain much weight, and I don't care about what weight I do gain. Before my incarceration here, I was a very active girl.
But I was weighed today, and since he resides on the 19th floor with me, he was weighed in the same group as me. He's only a few inches taller than me, his shoulders are the same width as mine, but I weighed in at least 60 pounds heavier than him. He smirked when he stood on the scale. The nurses chided him. He was down 10 pounds from when he came to stay here.
I almost felt self-conscious when I stepped on after him. He raised an eyebrow, noticing my weight. I looked at him, and he looked at the floor. I am to be put on a diet, since I have only been here ten days and I have already gained nearly seven pounds. Oh, the horror. I don't get what there is to be upset about, really. So I have a bit of extra fat hanging off of my hips. It isn't the end of the world, is it?

Delia fell asleep with her head resting against the keyboard of her desktop computer, a steady beeping noise emitting from the central processing unit. The night nurse gently moved the keyboard and replaced it with a pillow, at the same time covering Delia's shoulders with a quilt that had arrived with her things.
When she moved to turn the lights off, she noticed Delia stirring. Instead of the usual blank stare that met with anyone who encountered the teen, the nurse found herself looking at a smiling child. Returning the smile, she slowly pulled the door shut.

10/14
Sorry I haven't written for a while. I have been busy “being a kid,” so to speak. Really, I've just been setting my room up to look more like home. I actually do have much more room than I thought I did; one of my walls folds into another one, opening up a whole extra space that matches the space I had to begin with. I've been storing my non-art related supplies in that area.
I received a very high-quality color laser-jet printer last night, and have been printing off many of my doodles and the strange facts I have been finding on the internet pertaining to people who have been stricken with similar symptoms to what I have. It seems to be quite common, actually, for people to disconnect with their feelings and therefore be “emotionless,” only to observe incredibly short periods of any visible emotion.
I'm not sure if I really believe this stuff, or not. But in any case, I am making far better money doing the art thing than I ever did living with Julia and Mort. There was an envelope sticking under my door this morning, and inside it there was a note stating what items I had made had sold, and how much for, along with a wad of cash. It was kind of neat, knowing that people are actually finding things I made to be, well, good.
I stashed my money under my mattress. I shall have to invest in a safe next time I go to the mall. I am going to go to bed now, because I can feel my eyelids drooping as I type this.

10/16
I've been painting for nearly 36 hours straight. Three canvases and a mural on my wall with the window. Flowers and thorns and spikes and black figures; a little boy, a little girl with flowers in her hair. Myself, as a little girl.
I cut myself with a painting blade this morning. Barely even felt it until my blood started staining where I'd already painted. Blood on the field of daisies I'd worked on for seven hours. It almost looked perfect, the blood neatly contoured to the petals, looking as though it was dripping off of them. Of course, Jonathan was worried, and immediately dragged me over to the first-aid kit. I protested, telling him again and again that I was perfectly capable of judging when I was all right and when I wasn't.
He looked surprised and told me that my response was far more impassioned than he'd expected from someone with my unique, er, condition. Not only that, but apparently my voice is beginning to sound less Ben Stein-ish. Which, I suppose, is a good thing.
Tomorrow I have to go to an off-site clinic to have blood tests done, to make sure that it isn't some sort of virus that is causing me to act as I do. I wonder, though, why they didn't take me to get this stuff done when I was still a new arrival? I've been here half a month, already, anyway.
After my blood tests, I am supposed to walk two blocks south of the clinic to a coffeehouse where Julia wants to meet me for lunch, I guess. She probably has heard that I am actually making money off of my art, and wants to bug me for cash.
This is why I am bringing exactly $30, five of that in singles for bus fare from the coffeehouse back here. I am rather amazed (AN EMOTION OMG) that they are allowing me to ride the bus, on my own, from a location on the other side of town all the way back here, especially since they've made very little headway in their attempts to “cure” me, and I have not shown any outright signs of trusting them.
In reality, I am not even slightly tempted to run. There isn't really anywhere for me to go, after all. I guess finding Joanie and Missy would be a priority for me, but I don't know what these people would do to my stuff if I took off. For all I know, they could have a major bonfire using my stuff as kindling. And I rather like my possessions at this time.

10/17
Julia didn't try to get money from me, but attempted to get me to go home with her. I don't quite understand her motive, there. She's the one who sent me off to live at a MENTAL INSTITUTION. ALONE. Because her and her perfect boyfriend and her perfect daughter and my younger siblings were getting too cramped in the tiny shack we all were crammed into for years after mom died.
She brought a picture that rather confused me. It was a girl, me possibly, ages ago, with a newborn boy. The girl was looking, lovingly, at the baby, gently caressing his face with an index finger. It almost looked like it was taken in my old bedroom; the room that Mort and Julia had stolen from me when Mort moved in.
I caught a very brief glimpse of the back of the picture. All I saw were initials: 'DJ' and 'AJ.' But as far as I remember, none of the children she's plopped out had a first name that began with an A.

Delia stared at the last paragraph she had typed, silently, for a long time. A single tear traced a path down her slender cheek, hanging from her chin for a moment before falling to the floor with an inaudible splash.

The night nurse walked slowly through the hallway, tapping each door as she walked, warning that it was nearly lights out. She paused, noticing that Delia's door was cracked, a sliver of light seeping out into the hallway; a perfectly white line along the tile of the hallway.
Since the end of the first week she'd been there, Delia had always kept her door completely closed, locked, even. So the nurse was compelled to see what was going on.
She rapped her knuckles against the door four times, the sound ringing sharply through the air. “Delia?” she asked, as she slowly opened the door. “Deli-Oh, my God.” There, sprawled, between the bed and the desk, was Delia, face down in a pool of semi-dried blood.
LinkWhen my time comes

We did it! [Nov. 4th, 2008|11:42 pm]
A message to my fellow Americans:
I am very proud of this country right now, proud for the first time in my life. Congratulations, we will finally have a chance at achieving a decent government and the world's respect again.

To the World:
I do hope you're as proud of my country as I am. :)



Reminder! I have a friends cut post! scroll back, find it, comment it! You have until Thursday morning!

Warning, friends cut picture is rather disturbing to CSI fans! I apologize in advance!
LinkWhen my time comes

Wouldja lookie thar, It's time for a good, old fashioned, FRIENDS CUT [Nov. 3rd, 2008|08:06 pm]
If you're a CSI fan like me, the friends-cut banner may disturb you! )

Comment to remain on my list.
Link7 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Nov. 3rd, 2008|06:01 pm]
Work is honestly starting to be the end of me. It's making me depressed and bitchy, just like Target did. Even though I actually do LOVE this job, I mean, it's just PERFECT, I don't have to be around so many people every day, and it's usually a guaranteed 8 hours/day.

*sigh*

At least I've got my novel?
LinkWhen my time comes

So. [Nov. 2nd, 2008|12:46 am]
NaNoWriMo has officially eaten my soul. I've been writing and writing and writing and OMFG writing since early yesterday morning. So yeah.

Hint: hmmm.. lets say gatitas gorditas y pequenas (imagine a tilde above the n in pequenas.. I'm too lazy to character map)

I am NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER trick or treating with small children who aren't my own/my friends' own AGAIN. EVER. EVER. Stupid fucking children nearly broke my goddamn arm. I'm not even fucking shitting you.

I was a cop. A sexy cop. Well that's what sexual assault boy said. I maced him with police grade mace. I am pretty sure he's still at home trying to wash that shit out of his eyes.

I had to wait for hours (literal hours) for my friends to actually get to my house to pick me up to go to trick or treating, and then I barely got a half pound of candy. What kind of shit is that? What ever happened to going around 1 fucking block and getting so much candy your arms fall off carrying your pillowcase? Seriously, I know for a fucking fact that (in MN at least) candy is not that fucking expensive. Two childs play bags (about 6 pounds of candy each) is like 10 bucks. That ain't that bad, even if it's offbrand candy.

I have NO pictures of my costume. Might put it back on sometime just to snap a picture, but seriously, I was too fucking cold and too fucking pissed at my "friends" to stay in it. In fact, I turned down getting drunk and partying the shit out of last night in order to just get the fuck away from them.

I'm bored as shit, lonely as hell, and probably about to go to bed (after writing a few more pages of my novel).

Hope y'all are well.
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Oct. 31st, 2008|02:24 am]
so I kissed a boy. I was drunk, he was drunk. That I can deal with.

So he started fingering me. That I'm not so amazingly happy with.

FUCK

Why can't people just leave me alone?

So I letcha cop a feel, OBVIOUSLY I'm drunker than drunk should ever be, and you're sitting between me and a hot blond. I don't want you. REALLY.

He left hickeys. 4 of the fuckers THAT I CAN SEE. One's monsterously huge. AND HALLOWEEN IS TOMORROW/TODAY WHATEVER. And my costume is sooooooo sexy. But coverup is SOOOOOOOOOOO NOT.

I'mma be a cop. A diiiiiiiirty cop. Cue the CSI theme going, I'mma be HAWT.

Remind me not to drink.

Also, hint.

Gatekeeper
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

;BKOJAF;LKDJAESKJLKFJAKLADSJDFLKDFJF;LJ;LFKHJGBHDFKLDFJLBGVKJHJFPOGJO NERVOUS [Oct. 28th, 2008|08:03 pm]
Have driver test thinger tomorrow, 12:20 PM out at Arden Hills (this little dinky town place between Fridley area and Roseville, right smack dab next to New Brighton.. I know this means absolutely nothing to you lot but shittttt lol...)

ALSO I DYED MY HAIR. IT IS BLAAAAAACK. And that helped me decide to be SNOW WHITE for halloween (assuming they still have the size LARGE in costumes at Spirit on Thursday.

What else, what else.. OH both cars were dead yesterday, but daddy got his fixed so we have ONE until tomorrow afternoon when mom is gonna get hers towed in to get a new battery. Which will be fucking awesome so I can have a car to do the whole driving around town thang I wanna do. However, that implies that I will pass that fucking test, which I doubt, tbh, because I haven't successfully parallel parked since I was 16 and even then it was like OMFG I ALMOST HIT THAT FUCKING POLE DID YOU SEE THAT POLE THAT POLE WAS RIGHT THERE IT ALMOST GOTTED HIT BY THE BACK OF THIS STUDENT DRIVER CAR OMG.

I'M A BIT HYPER. 5 RED BULLS AND 3 MONSTERS AT WORK CAN DO THAT TO A GIRL.

Losing the interwebs soon, because mommy dearest is being a bitch and not letting me sign up for comcast high speed because she wants to bundle PREMIUM FUCKING CABLE in with that, and I'D HAVE TO PAY FOR THAT BECAUSE IT'S IN MY NAME. BULL FUCKING SHIT, I SAY.

I'm on a day off. It's nice. Very nice. I hope I pass that test tomorrow. I know I'm going on and on and on and on and on about it but FUCK. I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRIVE. IF I WANT TO GO TO MINNEAPOLIS I WANT TO GO ON MY OWN AND DRIVE THERE. IF I WANT TO GO TO ROSEVILLE AND BE ALL 'O HAI KIA DEALERSHIP, I CAN HAS TEST DRIVE IN A SEDONA?' I WANT TO DO IT ALONES. IF I WANT TO PURSUE STUPID GRAPHIC DESIGN JOBS THAT WILL BASICALLY BE A KICK IN THE CUNT TO ME, I'LL DO IT IN A CAR, KTHX.

That's THE OTHER THING. I apparently have a couple of job opportunities in my field of dread. I don't know what or where, but apparently there's some stupid ass design firms that are interested in the Emma. I don't know WHY they'd be interested in the Emma, but they apparently are. I'm afraid for their sanity.


Oh yes, a hint. A hint is in order. (read previous posts)
HINT: DARKNESS
Link3 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

All I wanna do-oo-oo-oo-ooo-oo ooh-oo-oo-oo-ooooooo [Oct. 25th, 2008|02:33 pm]
-Is stop listening to the fucking country station at work. No offense to Country Music, but JESUS TITTYFUCKING CHRIST, I AM SICK OF LISTENING TO: "I wanna walk the line, walk the line (till the end of time) I wanna love like Johnny aaaaaand Juuuuuuuuuuune!" "All I wanna dooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" "Go on take on this old world but to me you'll always be my little girl" "Sheeee just mayght be, the most precious thing I seeeeeeeeeeeeee" "Don't tayyke the guhrl" and like two other songs on CONTINUOUS ROTATE. I am fucking SICK OF IT. There are 99 fucking stations to listen to on that little commercial free box thing they got there, THE LEAST THEY COULD FUCKING DO IS PICK SOMETHING WHERE EVERY OTHER SONG ISN'T "LIIIIIIKE JOHNNY AND JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNE!" I'm about to hurl just LISTENING TO THE SHIT.


/work-related music rant


Anyone else participating in NaNoWriMo? I so am. I'm starting mine before work Saturday and I'm gonna hit the goal and FUCKING PASS IT this year. Other years I've gotten within 1000 words of the goal, this time I'm aiming past it.


I'm actually writing this from a chair in my room now. No more sitting in my bed and getting my back fucked up. NOPE! :D I have a chair! A CHAIR!
And a footstool!
Sweet Jesus!

So I'm working on a super secret project (which will probably turn into [info]iconographer's commission once it's done) and it's going..... good, actually. Conceptuals are nearing completion, which means paper sketching is next. Anyone who wants to be a proofer, hit me up via email and I'll give you links to the shit once I get it up on the net. it's gonna be EPIC. MOTHERFUCKING EPIC.

Puss Puss says hi to all, she's in here next to me as I type. Silly kitty. :)
Link3 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Oct. 24th, 2008|11:07 pm]
Not even halfway done with my "work week". I have 5. COUNT THEM F-I-V-E days of work in a row, a day off, and then another day. Yesterday, tonight, tomorrow morning, Sunday evening, Monday evening. And then Wednesday late.

and I am

so
fucking
tired
LinkWhen my time comes

Serj Tankian kinda owns my musical soul [Oct. 23rd, 2008|03:30 am]
I've been listening pretty hardcore to Serj Tankian's solo album lately, because it really is one of those hard rock things I can totally relate to. If any of you were ever on my OLD greatestjournal friends lists, you'd know that, even though I rarely listen to music anymore and I never talk to Gareth anymore, I am a horrible music junkie, but that's not a bad thing, I guess. I
Gareth Telfer is probably the one responsible for that, and I thank him. Really. Before him I wouldn't touch metal, hard rock, or anything fun like that. Now I know that I have a sanctuary in my cd player, any time I want to escape I can just run and hide in my corner with my headphones and scream out some lyrics in the dark. I've found relation in the strangest songs. "Saving Us" by Serj Tankian is my latest song binge, it really speaks to me because of my dad's alcoholism.
Why do we sit around and
Break each other's hearts tonight?
Why do we dance around
The issues 'till the morning light?
When we sit and talk
And tear each other's lives apart.
You were the one to tell me go...

But you were the one for me,
And now you're going through the door,
When you take that step
I love you baby more and more,
We need to laugh and sing and cry
And warm each other's hearts tonight,
Having fun of everything
And loving all of mother god

Tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
You're killing us,
killing us,
You're saving us,
You're saving us...

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
Breaking us,
You're killing us,
Killing us,
You're saving us...

Why do we sit around and
break each other's hearts tonight?
Why do we dance around
the issues 'till the morning light?
When we sit and talk
and tear each other's lives apart.
You were the one to tell me go...

But you were the one for me,
And now you're going through the door,
When you take that step
I love you baby more and more,
We need to laugh and sing and cry
and warm each other's hearts tonight,
Having fun of everything
and loving all of mother god

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
You're killing us,
Killing us,
You're saving us,
You're saving us...

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
You're killing us,
Killing us,
You're saving us...

Ohhhhh...

Ohhhhh...

Forever I lie,
Forever I lie,
Forever,
Forever...

Forever I lie,
Forever I lie,
Forever,
And never and never again...

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
You're killing us,
Killing us,
You're saving us,
You're saving us...

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
You're killing us,
Killing us,
You're saving us,
You're saving us...

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
(Forever I lie)
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
(Forever I lie)
You're killing us,
Killing us,
(Forever)
You're saving us,
You're saving us...
(And never...)

You're tearing us,
You're tearing us,
(Forever I lie)
You're breaking us,
You're breaking us,
(Forever I lie)
You're killing us,
Killing us,
(Forever)
You're saving us,
(And never...)

My cousin Joseph gave me this cd for christmas last year and I've listened to it every time I've had something bad happen, and its cheered me up TREMENDOUSLY each time since. I feel so at peace when I find the right song and blast it. I just figured I would share that with you all.

I plan to share it with the group next week Wednesday. We go to a family night now, to learn how to heal after all the shit my dad's done, the lying and the stealing and shit.

Anyway, I'm in a much better mood than I have been, and apparently pretty much everyone I've spoken to recently is, too. I've forgiven Crysten, for the moment, but that's all I can do. We've been on again off again friends for forever, so it makes sense that we'd do that again now.

Other songs that influence me right now are: One Thing by Finger Eleven and Stand Here With Me by Creed. I don't care how outdated those bands are, I love them so much.

I'm really tempted to apply for a job at Caterpillar Paving, because I could be transfered ANYWHERE in the country and I would be so happy with that, because I'm sure they have offices in Las Vegas and that area.. not to mention the HEAVILY AMAZING PAY I'd make, but shit. I'd have to give up Holiday, right when they're starting to really like me as an employee. And I don't wanna do that. Because I'd be working either 5 AM to 3:30 PM or 3:00 PM to 11:30PM, and my Holiday job is 10PM *usually* to 6AM.

I'm thinking I might have my idea picked for my novel for NaNoWriMo. It's heavily music influenced, and influenced by my life. It'd be the story of Delia and Andrea, twin girls who deal with their parents drug and alcohol abuse. But it'd be more interesting than just that.

I'm less than a week away from my driver's test!
LinkWhen my time comes

Interviewed by [info]iconographer [Oct. 22nd, 2008|12:39 am]
:)

If you want me to interview you--post a comment that simply says, "Interview me." I'll respond with questions for you to take back to your own journal and answer as a post. Of course, they'll be different for each person since this is an interview and not a general survey. At the bottom of your post, after answering the Interviewer's questions, you ask if anyone wants to be interviewed. So it becomes your turn-- in the comments, you ask them any questions you have for them to take back to their journals and answer. And so it becomes the circle.

My interview (interviewed by <lj user=leaveyoufordead>) )

I went to a party type thing tonight, think I might go again tomorrow. There was booze, and gambling, and smoking, and pot (which I didn't try), and CATS omg. Three of them. Bambi, Miami, and Mister. And they LOVED ME AND I LOVED THEM AND THEY WERE TOO DARN CUTE!

But the guy who raped me was there, and that was awkward. Really awkward.
Link6 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Oct. 20th, 2008|10:55 pm]
So ever since that cunttard wrote me an email, I've been having shit luck with it all today. I feel like crap. Absolute crap. All the shit I went through with him, it's been flooding back with a vengeance. The violence, the blood, the pain. I just want to forget about it. I'll never be able to forgive, but I want to forget. I want to push it to the back of my mind and compress it to the point where it's no longer recognizable as a memory. I feel sorry for his wife and any future children he might have. He's a violent man, too violent for contact with women. I wish I could have had the courage to take his ass to court when I had the chance.
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

[Oct. 20th, 2008|10:49 pm]
New layout!


Betcha can't tell I went to COLLEGE FOR GRAPHIC DESIGN. XD
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 20th, 2008|05:42 pm]
Ok, you know you're pretty much fucked when you start crying because your cat made you drop a delicious pizza. FUCKING CAT! Now I don't get dinner. Unless I want fucking celery soup. Ugh. I wanted that motherfucking pizza. It was gonna be delish. 1/2 pound of cheese, 4 tablespoons of sauce, thick crust, veggie and tofu crumbles, chik'n, mushrooms, olives, peppers.
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

UGH, longer update now that I'm awake. [Oct. 20th, 2008|05:11 pm]
So more tests are back, gotta love speedy bloodwork. I'm clean of Clamidia and syphillis, too. However, apparently they also recommend that I come back because of some moles I have in some strange places. I might have skin cancer. GOD. Goes from possibly preggo to UGH. I don't need cancer. I have no health insurance. I'll die. Honestly, I won't be able to afford treatment. I'll end up dying. Fuck.

Anyway...

[info]iconographer your commission will be started prolly tonight, If I get up the oomph to draw. If you figure out that you want something specific, let me know, but I'll start drawing you something now :) It'll be amazing, no matter what.

Been working a bunch lately, got a new phone. It's pretty. Pretty LAME! LOL Anyway. Sewing has proven to be difficult lately, so I'm behind on the fun stuff I've been making for people. I swear, I've been making the same cat toy for a week and a half.

I got an email from Jon while I was sleeping, apparently. Here's the text of it:

"Emma, stop being a cunt and quit spreading lies about me. You WANTED it when I hit you, and you know it. Quit talkin shit or say it to my face. Dan and Doug won't tak to me no more because of your lies. My wife is considering leaving me, you stupid whore. So now you're a lesbian? Sure didn't seem like it last time you sucked my cock, you slut. As I remember it, you held onto my pantleg as I walked away that day. I broke it off because of your lies. Quit digging yourself deeper. I will find you and make you pay. Rest assured, if you dont nock it off. I am sick of you spreading shit.


Fun, huh?

I need a vacation.
Link4 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

OMG SARA. OMG. OH. EM. GEE. [Oct. 16th, 2008|08:58 pm]
cut for csi spoilers, I AM SUCH A GSR CONVERSATION ANALYST! )
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

First real entry as a 20 year old! :D [Oct. 15th, 2008|01:19 pm]
Ok, seriously, I feel no older. I did, for a bit, yesterday, when I realized that HEY, I'M NOT A TEENAGER ANYMORE... but yeah. It's kinda nice, but kinda lame at the same time. I'm nowhere near where I wanted to be as a 20 year old. I always thought by now I'd have my own little studio apartment, complete with canvases, acrylic paints, charcoal pencils, a little woodburning stove (for heat), piles and piles of sketchbooks, digital cameras, paintbrushes, and newspaper covering every inch of everything. And an antfarm. Probably a telescope too.

I calculated it all out, and, IF I'M LUCKY, I won't break the 1,000,000 point with my move out to Vegas (this is including student loans, car loans, car insurance, and all that happy horsen shyt.) But HEY, if I finally can get my talents OUT THERE, I might audition for American Idol. Not to mention the fact that I am CONSTANTLY pushing commissions (I do have some very affordable packages, you should check my DevArt account sometime!) I make plushies and cat toys (No dog toys, sorry, I'm not good at stitching really good strong stitches), I knit scarves, I crochet blankets, and I work overnights for nearly minimum wage. But Hey, It helps!

Speaking of which, I'm gonna apply online for Toys R Us, maybe get a dayjob there. Gods know I could SERIOUSLY use teh moneys.

I'm getting my christmas present moneys in line, so, look out, flist, you might find something from me! (Points if you can be entirely oblivious to this fact if I ask you for a mailing address! XD)

I feel like poopy today because I keep having this recurring dream about a plane crashing into one of the lakes around here right after takeoff (I'm on the plane in my dream) and we all die (eventually) but it's slow and painful out of heat and drowning and shit) :/ So I haven't been sleeping.

Cut for WAY TMI )

I had a decent birthday yesterday. It was definitely started on the right foot, since [info]jayjareau is so amazing. :D ilusm

I got 20 bucks from the parents, which I turned around and bought a birthday cake to share with them. It was gorgeous and fit my style PERFECTLY Image and video hosting by TinyPic
And this afternoon when the mail came I got a 25 dollar check from my grandparents, so that's IMMEDIATELY going into my vegas savings. I really want to get up to 30,000 for that trip, so every little bit counts MAJORLY.

I'm going to the free clinic TOMORROW to get formally tested for EVERYTHING. (I checked it all out, planned parenthood is more of a trek via bus.) So THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of your support guys, you really all rock it hardcore.

I have my driver test in exactly two weeks. Wish me luck! XD
Link5 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

Wee update [Oct. 13th, 2008|05:58 pm]
[Tags|, , , , , , ]

Ok.
Apparently, one of my classmates from highschool died the other day. I'm not going to say I'll miss him, I won't say I ever liked him, but nobody deserves to die that young. He wasn't even 20 yet. But he was being stupid. He had argued with his father, and decided to do some heroin. Well, he overdosed. I didn't find out until halfway through my shift at work last night. And now EVERYONE is coming out of the woodworking to say "OMG HE WAS SUCH A GREAT GUY, HE'LL BE MISSED SO MUCH, HE HATED NOBODY AND NOBODY HATED HIM OMG OMG OMG SO SAD GOODNIGHT SWEET PRINCE~~" And I'm sorry, but that isn't true. Ben was NOT loved by everbody. In fact, a rather large portion of my school HATED THE BASTARD. He was a mega douche. He PRETENDED to be nice to people. He FAKED caring. I'm sorry I can't be more loving and nice to somebody who was such an epic bastard as he and died how he did, but I have to say how I feel.

My birthday is tomorrow. I don't get a cake, I don't get to be around family and friends, and pretty much nobody in Minnesota will take notice because: A. Ben an hero'd, and B. My friends and family are all too busy/too poor/too whatev. I could deal with not getting material gifts. I could deal without a cake (although I want one sofuckingmuch), and I could deal without a party (have for 13 years anyway), but the fact is, outside of the internet, I won't even get acknowledged as having turned an extra year older. And this wouldn't bug me so much if every birthday since I was 12 hadn't sucked so bad. On my SWEET SIXTEEN, I GOT DETENTION. I was stuck after school for 4 fucking hours (surprisingly enough, it was because of dead Ben).

If anyone wants to be all OMG Emma happy birthday!!!!!one1!!! Go to your local humane society/animal shelter/whatev and donate a bit of money. (orbuymecsiseason2,4,5,or7andillloveyouforeverandeverkthx) LOL.

I GOT MY PERIOD.

I GOT MY MOTHERFUCKIN PERIOD.

But I'm still going to the clinic to get tested for stds and such.

becuase it's incredibly necessary. But I'm not in the mood to go into THAT drama right now
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 10th, 2008|03:45 pm]
[Current Music |Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way]

So I work again tonight and then have a night off. CSI last night was epic. I posted a halftime with spoilers during like the half hour commercial break. and yeah. That's about how I felt at that point. So now that it's all said and done, CSI season 9 is here. And I want to see the end of it already. No, that's not a depressed remark, that's a WHATTHEFUCKISGONNAHAPPEN remark. I want to see how Fishburne does in his role and how the show fares without Gilbert Grissom.

Cuntface drove me home this morning from work. She's pressuring me into having an abortion, if I'm pregnant. I don't want to. Really, Y'all should know I'm EPICLY pro choice, but in my own life, unless carrying the baby to full term would harm myself or the baby, I wouldn't have an abortion. It just scares me too much, really. I couldn't do it.

I'm in the mood to draw, so commission or request me. First five get a pretty picture. :D
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 9th, 2008|07:29 pm]
UBER QUICK HALFTIME IN ALLCAPS
IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE CAPS, PLZ BITE ME.

Read more... )
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

[Oct. 9th, 2008|03:37 pm]
I offer commissions nao. They're cheapish. $5 American per picture and that's Any picture, normative how complex. $5 USD. That'll get Rou whatever You want. See. http://never-with-you.deviantart.com for examples.
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 8th, 2008|02:08 pm]
Ok, so first off, THANK YOU, [info]iconographer for being so awesome and nice and first commenter and whatnot on my previous post. I spoke with my mommeh and she's like "well, fuck" on the whole "Ithinkimightbepregnantkthx" thing. She told me to save up money to go to the doctor and stuff (get tested for all the diseases and whatnot). I called cuntface and asked her wtf went on that night and now her story's COMPLETELY changed and apparently YES I WAS FUCKING RAPED. *headdeskheaddeskheaddesk* Lovely friends I have, right?

So basically, I have to go into the doctor and be like "ohai, I is can has been rapeded, can I plz has teh pregnancy and std tests nao kthx?" but the problem with that is: I DON'T HAVE INSURANCE. AND THE NEAREST "FREE" CLINIC IS IN SOUTH MINNEAPOLIS, AND IT COSTS ABOUT 50 BUCKS TO GET IN TO SEE THE DOCTOR. And I can't afford it. I just can't.

So I will ask you this:

Could you please copy and paste a short thing into your entries?


My friend Emma [info]hicsiguy is having medical issues. She does not have insurance and needs to get into the doctor asap. She has a fund going on paypal, if you could consider donating a bit of money she'd be eternally grateful. Her paypal is emmaline.westlund@gmail.com



Or if you'd like to donate or commission me, I'd love you for more than forever.
Link9 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

HERE IT IS! IT IS RED! O MY GOD! IT'S SO RED. [Oct. 6th, 2008|10:54 pm]
[Tags|]

...Not that Shayla will ever read this to find out that I posted that for her. :P Drunks are so easy to amuse. I kinda wish I would've been able to get a bit drunk with her... But all they had was sour watermelon schnapps, and I can taste alcohol like WHOAAAA BARF KTHX So I had two swallows and nearly vomited. Ugh. Was delightfully lightheaded for all of ten minutes after, though.
We sang at the top of our lungs and danced, fuck did we ever dance. It was great. Shayla and me are so silly. I'd forgotten how awesomely fun she could be.

In other news, I am about to go batshit fucking crazy from these fruit flies. I just tried to have a sandwich and I couldn't eat it. The fruit flies were all stuck in my peanutbutter and it was just disgusting. Just. Disgusting.

Oh, and we might end up evicted. If we do, well...honestly, I don't know what they're gonna do, ASIDE FROM PAY ME BACK for the fact that I will have to rent my own apartment for god knows how long and I won't be able to save anything for leaving this state. My dad will owe me so much he'll STILL be paying me back when he's been dead 10 years. Apartments are not cheap here. Not as expensive as, oh, say, in Los Angeles, but not cheap. Ugh. Life was so much easier when I worked for Super Target. I made nearly $300 a WEEK, and I only was paid 7.50 an hour.
Now I barely make 100 a week and I get 7.50 to 8.50 an hour. Blah.


TL;DR
Hung out with Shayla
Drank lil bit
danced, sang, bullshitted
Am STARVING
and Possibly getting evicted. jvaklfjaklfj
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 5th, 2008|06:46 pm]
I work tonight and I don't want to because I'm fuckin tired already.

My arm hurts, too, but that's less of an irritant than sleepiness, not to mention my own damn fault.

Bah.

Time to take a shower, I guess.
LinkWhen my time comes

[Oct. 5th, 2008|01:41 pm]
I feel a lot better than I did last night.
LinkWhen my time comes

Things I will do when I hit my goal weight [Oct. 4th, 2008|06:42 pm]
+Buy a bikini
+Be nude as much as possible
+Buy tons of new clothing
+Donate my old clothing to charities
+Take TONS of pictures of myself
+Write an inspirational novel
+Try my hand at modeling
+See if the local dinner theater needs any young female actresses
+Cut my hair
Link1 wrong that I've done|When my time comes

PLUSHIES [Oct. 3rd, 2008|03:28 pm]
http://never-with-you.deviantart.com/art/Dolphin-For-Sara-99705773

^^That's an example of what I can do. Keep in mind, this is the first I've made in a lonnnnngggggggg time, so I'm a BIT rusty atm, and I had to do this by hand b/c I didn't have batteries for my sewing machine... but it's as best I could do with the constraints I'm workin with right now, and next time I do it it will be a bit better.. and each one will get a bit better.
Link2 wrongs that I've done|When my time comes

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