And just to post about something else: OMFG Republicans. Remember the jeering Alan Grayson took when he made his famous hyperbolic REPUBLICANS WANT YOU TO DIE QUICKLY speech? Cue a Republican debate crowd CHEERING WILDLY when it's suggested an uninsured man be left to die. Wow... there goes the hyperbole. And there goes my lunch. Alan Grayson was right, not just morally right but ACTUALLY RIGHT. Never mind that insurance is prohibitively fucking expensive because big insurance companies don't care about ANYTHING but profit. LEAVE THEM ALL TO DIE. LET THEM EAT CAKE. AND IF WE DON'T GET EM THAT WAY, BY GOD WE'LL FRY EM DOWN IN TEXAS!

Yeah... Texas' record number of executions was met with a HEARTY ROUND OF APPLAUSE from debate-goers. And these weren't even the same debate-goers! Who ARE these people? Do I pass them in the supermarket buying cucumbers? I'm scared. :/ And I'm pro-death penalty for fuck's sake. I think it's just punishment for especially egregious crimes that have been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. In other words, RARELY. It should be one of those special things, you know? The sort of occasion you'd buy a bottle of Dom Perrignon for, were it a party and not, y'know, an execution.

But no, Governor Deepfry refused to hear solid evidence that one of his toaster strudels was innocent, and zapped him anyway. Presumably while firing off a six shooter and shouting yeeeeeee-haw! (Seriously Texans, if you don't want us to think you're a bunch of Yosemite Sams, please stop firing off your six shooters and shouting yeeeee-haw! You can see how it might be a bit distracting. We're trying, Texas. Meet us halfway?)

So... there are some really angry, bloodthirsty people roaming the land. I don't know where they came from or why, exactly, they're so angry that the mere thought of random people dying whips them into an excited frenzy, but I know we can't let them into office. Or into our homes. Seriously... maybe they can't get in unless you invite them. MY GOD MAN, DON'T LET THEM IN!

One final word on the insurance thing... Ron Paul's answer, before the mob frothed into KILL ALL THE POOR PEOPLE glee, actually made sense. Able people should make their own decisions and take care of themselves without the government. The problem is when the free market system they love so much jacks up prices to whatever the fuck they want and forty-two cents (and you better damn well include that forty-two cents, bub), it's no longer a choice. It's out of reach. YES we should be responsible for these things, but they have to be AFFORDABLE first! As long as dollar signs and the bottom line run the show, the rest of us are swimming with sharks. Given a choice between the government throwing me a rope to escape the sharks or swimming with say, dolphins instead, I'd pick the dolphins. Wouldn't you? The problem is, the insurance and pharmaceutical companies and their political fuck puppets see us as nothing more than chum.

Cealy... CEALY???

Okay, let's just stop right here and back this bus up. Parents: do not name your child after your MATTRESS, or anything else found on your bed. The last thing your little princess needs to be reminded of her whole life is WHAT SHE WAS CONCEIVED ON. That conjures up all kinds of images that, believe me, she DOES NOT WANT. This makes naming her after your favorite drink or car seem downright sensible, like calling her Mary.*

On top of that, her friend was named Salee. ...Yeah. What? Maybe her mother really enjoys the Sears annual white sale, and inspiration struck among the half-off towels? I just... I don't even know anymore.

So this blog appears to be about Toddlers and Tiaras now. It's just so DELIGHTFULLY HORRIFYING. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in years. Well okay, I enjoyed myself a bit more when my sweetie came to visit, but I knew he was leaving again! T&T is always right here, close enough to smell the hairspray and desperation.

*Available Fall 2011: The Toyota Mary! Comes with standard air, power windows, rosary beads, dashboard Jesus and pro-life bumper sticker.

No CL hunt. No boy. Bored. Lonely. Catching up on the episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras I missed this season because NONE OF THE PEOPLE I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW TOLD ME A NEW SEASON HAD STARTED. Err. Perhaps therein lies the problem. Anyway, I have a feeling I might like other "fans" of this show, mostly because I don't believe anyone watches this show seriously. I refuse to believe it. At least with Hoarders you kinda feel bad for the people as you gawk mercilessly at them, but these people... they're like clowns that are actually funny. I love them. This show is totally what's been missing in my life.

Yes, that speaks volumes more about my life than anything else. MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

One thing I have noticed about this show: almost all the moms have perma wide-eyed and open-mouthed stares, kinda like...


Coincidence?? It's as though they're in a perpetual state of offering a blowjob for another $3000 "glitz" dress from their long-suffering hubbies. All I will say about that is they probably deserve one, though they married Suzy Stuffums in the first place so who the hell knows.

Also? Whenever someone mentions "grand supreme" I get really, really hungry for Taco Bell. Since I usually watch the show late at night, not fair. Not fair to name your cheesy pageant title after a delicious cheesy burrito when I cannot have one! And don't even get me started on "ultimate grand supreme." I think that one involves guacamole. *wibble*

And just to bring this blog around full circle... it seems my old "flame" Martin Gramatica turned out to be a really awesome person! http://www.nola.com/news/index.ssf/2009/07/gramatica_name_gets_better_spi.html

He could have retired and opened a car dealership or sold real estate or something football-related or pretty much anything. Instead, he chose to focus on Katrina victims. And the environment. He IS the man of my dreams! ;) All that time I was crazy about him, I didn't even know what a big heart he had. Well, it sort of came out in his kicking. That man kicked a football with PASSION.

So my kickin' cutie is a class act. I'm proud of him, his two (also cute) brothers, and myself for all the years I stood behind my "chipmunk." :D

Yes, I made a silly post about beauty pageant names on the 10th anniversary of 9/11. This was not deliberate, but not really undeliberate either. You can't swing a dead rat without hitting someone talking about 9/11. So, why not lighten the mood a little?

Also, that was pretty much my favorite post ever.

I forgot to mention the pageant mom with the t-shirt stating "I love Jesus... and bling too!" Cause y'know, Jesus was all about the bling. He even had rhinestone sandals he brought out for those special occasions. How else do you think he walked on water? Divine power? Nope, all about the bling baby! Sadly, his bedazzled robes were never accurately described and thus lost to history. I heard they had badass dragons on them, though.

Of course he had to give them all away to the poor to ascend back into heaven, which is why he wore a crown of thorns instead of his usual tiara. TRUE FACTS.

I believe this was the same pageant mom who dressed her little girl up in hooker boots and named her Paisley. Doesn't life just make sense now? I can hardly wait for her little sister Plaid's stirring scene from Leaving Las Vegas at the next Little Miss Mommy Pimps Me out to 50-Year Old Judges to Fill the Empty Void in Her Soul Pageant.* It's the PERFECT STORM... of awful.

*the pride of Shitcreek, South Carolina for over 30 years! Enjoy its sister pageant, Little Miss Daddy Drinks to Forget, in historic Tugnut, Texas.

Two things that make me happy, and one thing that fills me with senseless rage.

I watch the show Toddlers and Tiaras, as it's the most awesome mix of horrifying and entertaining since Hoarders. We're gonna bypass the fact that moms dress their 4-year old daughters in Pretty Woman hooker wear and Dolly Parton fake boobs - not because it isn't OMGWTFHEADEXPLODETASTIC, but because there's probably someone else out there outraged about it at this very moment, and I strive for original outrage. So today I am outraged over DUMBASS HICK PARENTS WHO GIVE THEIR CHILDREN NON-NAMES.

Watch Toddlers and Tiaras and you'll find an endless parade of little girls named Madison, Makayla, Jadelyn, Payton, Rylee, Kaelin, Ashlynn, Brooklyn (where's her sister, Bronx?), Morgan, Sparkle, Kianah, Hadyn, Baileigh, Queen, Paisley, and... I dunno, Argyle? Kahlua? Midori Sour on the Rocks with a Twist of Lime?

Sadly, very few of those sprung from my fertile imagination (and the last one was my drink order... make it a double!) I also expect to see a little girl named Argyle VERY SOON - do not let me down dumbass hick parents of America! I mean... please don't name your children dumb shit like Paisley and Argyle. Yeah. (Sorry, I got momentarily caught up in Schadenfreude.)

Real names are things like Elizabeth (not Alyzabethe), Abigail (not Abbagayle), Sarah (not Serrah), or Rebecca (not Rabbekkah). Do not give your children unnecessary letters like you are naming a Ye Olde English Shoppe. Do not name your children after your favorite alcoholic beverage, fabric, fruit, street sign, city, or car. (I am astounded there is no "Camry" yet. ASTOUNDED. Or pardon me, "Camreigh." Gotta Ye Olde Englishe that shit up!)

Or at least be authentic about it. Instead of trying to sound all unique and highfalutin' by naming your child Madison (like Madison Avenue, I get it!! You must be from New York City instead of East Twittlefuck, Kentucky*!!) Sterling Queen the IV, let your white trash freak flag fly and name her Pabst Blue Ribbon. After all, you might as well give tribute to what caused dear JadieLynn SparkleBrite's conception in the first place. Sounds like a ready made pageant winner to me! Just add wig, boobs and hooker boots, and maybe a cigarette so she looks *extra* sophisticated.

God I love that show.

Sincerely,
Maellissah's Ye Olde Cigare Shoppe and Gentleman's Clubbe.

Now that the horrid untraditional names are out of the way, here's something I love: the colorful plastic barrettes I had when I was a little girl are still sold!! I saw some in Target the other day and I was all OMGNOSTALGIAFACE! I almost bought some. Not to wear, more as a... talisman? I love when things I love don't change. Even though they'll be worn by a generation of Jadyns and Ashlees, I still love them. They deserve better. I hope my future Abigail enjoys them as much as her mommy did. http://www.totallyfashiontrendy.com/v/vspfiles/assets/images/000%20bh%2050%20036.jpg <------ small happy piece of my childhood right there!

Second, completely random thing I love: Autumn! I love Harvest Moons. I love the phrase "Harvest Moon." I love this picture of a Harvest Moon http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harvest_moon. I love pumpkins and apples and Halloween and hayrides and corn mazes and drinking hot cider in the evening with a slight nip in the air, the kind of air that smells vaguely of wood smoke. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT AUTUMN. I might even consider naming my child "Autumn." I know I know, naming a child after a season is one step away from naming her after booze or a sock pattern, but DAMMIT! SO PRETTY! I would refrain from calling her Autumn Apple, or Autumn Hayride. (On a side note, those are some damn fine names for seasonal beers. USE THEM!) Okay okay, I will stick with Abigail and let my love for Autumn speak for itself. Paisley lovers, take note: I heard there's a sale on socks somewhere. Step away from the baby before you do something drastic!!

Love,
AutumnLeigh SparkleeSpice HarvestMoon,
2011 Lil Miss Deep Fried Turkey Leg
(And do not tell me there isn't a pageant somewhere in the south called Lil Miss Deep Fried Turkey Leg. You KNOW there is.)

*East Twittlefuck and West Twittlefuck have a VICIOUS football rivalry, so if you're ever in East Twittlefuck do not, I repeat, DO NOT wear West Twittlefuck colors or you'll be shot down like a crip on a blood corner. And then fed to goats.

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/michele-bachmann-irene-gods-warning-washington-campaign-joking/story?id=14404962

This post is dedicated to Michele Bachmann, who I do not believe for one second was joking. (I am, of course, deadly serious.)

So if Hurricane Irene was God's warning to Washington to stop... something (not exactly sure what... stop Obama from caving to the tea party? Nah that probably wasn't it), what is the Almighty Significance of the Texas wildfires? God has a problem with Rick Perry? Or George Bush? Maybe Roger Clemens? Stetson hats? Um... Pace picante sauce?

Clearly, I took the wrong life lesson from Katrina. The real message was, GOD FUCKING HATES GUMBO. I MEAN OKRA, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I DIDN'T MAKE THAT SHIT TO EAT! *SMACK*

This just in http://news.yahoo.com/hockey-shock-russian-jet-crash-kills-43-185622176: Apparently, God also fucking hates hockey. Damn, God sucks. :( Or at least, Michele Bachmann's God sucks. Maybe Michele Bachmann just sucks. Yeah... let's go with that.

So stuff happens, and the president is playing golf.

Nothing ever really changes.

Every president, no matter the climate of the country or the world, ends up playing golf somewhere. It's like they're all the same person; different decade, same silhouette. The Figurehead of the Traveling Khakis. Air Force Polo Shirt.

I hate golf.

What is it about golf that turns people into smug assholes? It's like "I'm on a boat motherfucker," except "I'm on a golf course" and not funny. Why do presidents play golf while their country is in turmoil? There's something very let-them-eat-cakey about it. Bush personified it to the point of stereotyping it, as Bush was wont to do. "We're gonna catch those evildoers... now watch this swing!"

I guess I can't fault Obama, he's human and he needs a vacation. It's just... fucking golf! It fills me with rage. I'd rather see him on a boat, motherfucker. There's something real about a boat at least. Out in the elements, man vs nature. Golf is like... artificial nature. Like here's a tree and here's a lake and it's all real, yet somehow plasticy. They're spaced too perfectly and there aren't any weeds and you can tell some rich asshole put them there, probably digging up real nature to plant his imported fakey grass. They're beautiful I guess, but in the way an overprocessed supermodel is beautiful. Golf courses are the boob jobs of nature. You can totally quote me on that.

Golf courses are also the auto-tune of nature. Yeah, that's a good one.

I used to enjoy watching the PGA tour (somehow people who play golf for a living don't annoy me like politicians and rich assholes playing in their leisure time while the people who work for them are worrying how they'll make their house payment). Specifically, I enjoyed watching Tiger Woods. Then Tiger went from selling fancy razors to a massive trainwreck overnight, and the top players went from superstars to random names out of a phone book. "Joe Wilson wins the Masters!" "Who the fuck is that?!" Thank you, Tiger Woods' genitals, for ruining the only thing that was remotely interesting about golf.

So, this post ended up being about golf. Ok.

One more thing about Obama. I supported him and still do. I think more was expected out of him than he could ever deliver, especially with the crew of Cruella DeVilles the republicans elected to skin puppies, I mean, foil him at every turn. (Michele Bachmann has a coat made out of puppies somewhere. You KNOW she does.) However, he could fight harder instead of coming off as the Harried Dad from a Sitcom. The tea partiers might be spoiled, unruly children but that doesn't mean you give in to them. You stand up and say "I'm the father and I'm in charge here, BECAUSE I SAID SO!" It kind of feels like his campaign slogan should be "Obama 2012: Because everyone else is batshit crazy." Doesn't have quite the ring of "Hope and change," but it beats the hell out of his opponent's slogan "Cruella DeVille 2012: If she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will!" (Just substitute he for she in case of Rick Perry. Still totally works.)

And uh, no more golf, please? Can we put an end to the golf thing for politicians? Just because it fills me with possibly irrational anger? Thanks. (Okay, not so irrational. Because it makes you look like Lord Khakipants von Countryclub the Third instead of a public servant. That's right, I said it. LORD KHAKIPANTS VON COUNTRYCLUB THE THIRD. It has already turned John Boehner orange with privilege, do not let this happen to you!)

We now return to your regular silliness. No, I am not counting Lord Khakipants von Countryclub the Third as silliness. That is serious political discourse, dammit!

If I had a billion dollars, I'd buy back my old room.

This pretty much sums up my life lately. I feel so lost, and want to return to what's familiar. But sadly that was lost a long time ago. The town I grew up in is still pretty much the same, the house I grew up in is still there, but someone else lives in it. They have for a long time. Parents never consult the kids when they sell off their childhoods. Now I want it back. I feel like everything that's mine is still there, and everything that came after is fake. This probably comes from not having kids of my own yet and wanting them so badly. Their childhood will replace my lost one, and enrich who I am now to the point that maybe I feel real again. And I won't be so quick to sell theirs to the highest bidder, just in case they want to come back and visit. Reclaim that little piece of who they are whenever they start feeling lost in the foreign, adult world.

I grew up on a quiet, modest suburban street. Kids rode their bikes, dads watered the lawn, moms baked cookies in the kitchen. All the yards had fruit trees. You could walk almost anywhere in the town from my house, to the various parks and swimming pools, to the stores downtown, to the library, to school, to your friends' houses and back home again. It never felt anything but safe doing that, and no it wasn't the 1950s. Your house was... your house, part of who you were, not some transitive residence. You knew every nook and cranny. It was home.

I used to think this Everywhere USA of my childhood was cheesy, I took it for granted the way that only someone who "has" can. When everything is familiar, you crave unfamiliar. You feel like something must be wrong if you feel so content. Surely, there must be more to life than this!

And probably for some people, there is more. For me, that was bliss, but the kind you don't know you've got til it's gone. Like the Big Yellow Taxi. Paving paradise and putting up a parking lot. When I hear that song, I automatically think that childhood is the paradise, and the parking lot everything that comes after. It makes me sad. But then I think, you can plant a garden, you can recreate paradise. That's the answer. What you have lost, give to your children. Make sure they never lose it. Childhood isn't something to be abandoned but something to be built on. "Home" is important because you are important. I've lived in enough disposable apartments to know, after a while you start feeling disposable yourself.

I just wanna go home.

Here's something disturbing I've noticed lately: mean Christians.

We'll call them "Talk Radio Christians." I'm not saying one has to be all syrupy sweet and nice to be Christian, but I don't think men of the cloth should spout off like Rush Limbaugh. And I don't necessarily mean that politically, though I do think the unholy marriage between right wing politics and Christianity plays a part - the politicizing of evangelism. Or evangelizing of politics? Either way, scary stuff, and not just cause it got Bush elected twice, but because there is a hard edge to Christianity these days. Jesus embodied peace, humility, modesty, charity. He wore frickin sandals for pete's sake! I can hear one of today's oh-so-cool "politically incorrect" ministers making a whole sermon about guys wearing sandals being gay hippies, until someone kindly pulls him aside and explains.

These are not the majority of Christians, I know. But I think in a misguided, possibly unconcious attempt to be modern and hardcore, aided and abetted by political agendas, the soul and depth of spirituality is slowly being replaced by wordly hate and anger. And sneering. And if there's one thing Jesus would most definitely not do, it's sneer. Jesus would not be flippant. He would not be hard.

"For God so loved the world he gave his one and only son..." A prominent Evangelical politician made a bill about lightbulbs, and boasts about it as a big achievement. LIGHT. BULBS. You are seriously wasting God's time here people! Not helping the poor, healing the sick? You're really going with lightbulbs? What would Jesus do, you ask? Be fucking petty about anything that might have to do with hippies! Or queers! Damn straight! *fires off shotgun* Oh yeah, Jesus owned a gun, it's in the constitution!

When religion becomes too much about wordly things it isn't religion anymore. It's politics disguised as holy war. It's using God as justification for personal prejudices. Yes, the Bible has some anti-gay sentiment. It also has some anti-ham sentiment. And anti-tattoo sentiment. And pro-slavery sentiment. HI PEOPLE, TIMES CHANGE! That doesn't mean the basic teachings of the Bible should be thrown out with the bathwater, but if some parts are outdated it stands to reason others can be too. It's called THINKING OBJECTIVELY.

So enough enabling people to give in to their basest feelings and fears and call it virtue. Isn't spirituality supposed to lift people up? I'm tired of Christians acting the exact fucking opposite of what Christianity stands for. Be bold in your convictions, absolutely! No one's saying you have to be a cookie baking church lady. But... you do have to have compassion. This is not optional. It really, really is what Jesus would do. If it doesn't come from a place of compassion, I don't know where it comes from but it probably isn't good.

"A book? What is this shit?"

Dear universe,

I like books. Real, live, flesh and blood books. The kind with crinkly pages and an inviting woodsy scent. I do not want to read "books" on a cold, flat screen. I don't care if I can fit the entire works of Shakespeare into some little whojit the size of my bellybutton. Reading actual books is not hard! It's nice!

Just because you CAN do something with technology doesn't mean you SHOULD. Not everything needs to be "better." What's next, e-cheeseburgers? Who needs declicious gooey cheese when you can eat internet! We shall completely eliminate the need for napkins! And ketchup! And stupid BREAD!! Holy crap, I'm a genius. "Hahaha, you still eat bread? Buckle up Grampa, it's 2011 and if you're hungry, there's an app for that!" "But... food tastes good..." "SHUT UP OLD MAN!"

So please, awesome universe of the future, leave books alone and put your genius into curing cancer or something. Let's produce goods we can see, hear, smell, touch and taste before our nerve endings die off from lack of use.

"And now... new digital fingers, so you don't actually have to touch your new digital book!"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sometimes I want to wake up and have it be 1962.

I see that whatever replaced my long-ago avocados (or limes) has been replaced by pink birds. That's cool. I can deal with that.

Now on to the point of my post which is - guess what - I'm ANGRY about something! RAWRRR! I am entitling this post "Attack of the pc people," with a caveat.

There are some very extreme ideologies in this world. Sometimes it seems the ideology-ridden far outnumber the reasonable, moderate people. Well maybe that's not true. Maybe they're just louder. Let's take the "comments" section of Yahoo news I mentioned briefly in my last post. Every story about President Obama, you can bet there will be two ignorant assfucks who post stuff like "don't trust barack HUSSEIN obama!! hurrhurr" for every normal person who posts something like, actually relevant to the topic. Oh fuck it, there's probably more like 3 or 4 of 'em. So there's that. Which sucks, and is SURPRISINGLY prevalent in 2011. Like it even surprises me, and I pretty much think people are ignorant assfucks to begin with, so yeah. It's SHOCKING.

But what I'm writing about today is the flipside. Which is equally ignorant and reactionary. And possibly even more annoying because it's done by people you'd think would know better. Or that's what I used to think. Then I realized, you can't reason with people who run on pure ideology. Whether it's ignorant redneck ideology or so-called enlightened ideology. It's the EXACT SAME THING - basically if you don't agree with my rail-thin life view, FUCK YOU. Ahh, enlightened right? So...

Attack of the pc people!

I'm a member of a social anxiety community on LJ. I never post there because I'm not keen on opening myself up to strangers, even in a so-called "safe" environment. I read and respond to other people's posts occasionally. The community rules specifically state it's a "safe place" and no personal attacks are allowed. But that didn't stop the pc people from attacking.

A girl posted about an experience that makes her socially uncomfortable, one that also happens to make me uncomfortable: riding public transportation, with the sort of people who ride public transportation. People who are often publicly drunk or high and do not respect other people's boundaries. Pretty awful for anyone I'd say, but imagine how that kind of unsolicited encounter feels to someone with SA. For instance, it annoys the fuck out of me when a "normal" random person comes up to me and says something like HOT ENOUGH FOR YA (no I carry a toaster in my pants so I can be EVEN HOTTER, dumbass) or some inane crap like that. I feel momentarily uncomfortable, but it passes. Y'know, like gas. (Aren't comments like that just like verbal farts, really?) But when some random dude with stale beer breath and hair that looks like it needs to be jiffy lubed comes up and starts rambling to me about communism or something, I feel REALLY FUCKING CREEPED OUT. And awkward, and ridiculous, even though I'm the sane one in the situation. It's an awful spot for someone with SA to stuck in, which is the point this girl was making.

CUE: the pc people! OMG you're ELITIST, you're CLASSIST (um no... I'm just saying these situations make me uncomfortable) you're a PRINCESS (no... really... I was just hoping for some understanding about an SA issue... in an SA community) NO YOU ARE AN ELITIST CLASSIST PRINCESS AND I AM A POLITICALLY CORRECT SAINT WHO WOULDN'T HURT A FLY CAUSE THAT WOULD BE FLYIST (well your attitude hurt me... actually) NO YOU DON'T COUNT! YOU'RE NOT OPPRESSED! (but I have SA... just like you) NO YOU'RE A CLASSIST RACIST ELITIST FLYIST PRINCESS!!!

See... it's just too much. They couldn't look past their own ideological knee-jerk response to see her point about people who can't respect personal boundaries, just because some of them happen to be homeless and have other mental disorders. So, she's supposed to just ignore something that triggers her disorder for the sake of political correctness? Being so-called socially enlightened while judging people in the exact same way you're accusing them of doing and WORSE, resorting to name calling, is REALLY LAME. Do not do this, lest you be a giant poopyhead. This has been a public service announcement.

Be nice. But not so "nice" it makes you a jackass, eh?

So I read something today that changed my life! Ok, it didn't. Nothing will ever change my life. But I really wanna start writing here again. Man, I used to write some good stuff here.

The secret to blogging when you have no life is:

Write about any and every random experience or thought that tickles your fancy. Like the 26 cents guy. The "bigness" doesn't come from the magnitude of the experience, it comes from inside your head. They always say "life is what you make it" (they being the sort of people who say stuff like that; I imagine they're also the sort of people who collect thimbles*). Blogging is the one case where LIFE ACTUALLY IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT. You can take that experience and make whatever clowns and confetti you want jump out of it, as long as it has a kernel of truth in it. The kernel of truth is very important.

Making things big in your head can be hard when your head is feeling very small, and your experiences are small to begin with. This, I think, is why I stopped posting. But I should try harder, because I actually don't suck at it. I wonder how you actually get people to read your blog.

The source of this life changing event is this http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/09/four-levels-of-social-entrapment.html
I've read this blog several times and been amused by its amusingness, but somehow this amazing kernel of truth eluded me. Til tonight. It's so awesome, it doesn't even need confetti. It's just true... if you're a person like me. Which I am.

I think the most astonishing part came in the comments section. Let it be said I never, ever read comments sections anymore after reading comments on Yahoo news stories. Or maybe they were "who can sound like the biggest redneck idiot ever!" contests. But I digress. Here was a place I felt safe reading comments and what do I stumble upon but... "I'm tired of social niceties making a recluse out of me."

I'M TIRED OF SOCIAL NICETIES MAKING A RECLUSE OUT OF ME! OMFG SOMEONE ELSE THINKS THIS WAY AND IS LIKE ME!!!!

You've gotta understand... I have NEVER seen anything like that expressed in my entire 30+ years of life. There is no way I can explain the magnitude of that moment without turning on capslock again. Suffice to say, I feel oddly vindicated. I, too, no longer want social niceties making a recluse out of me! I will express this by making a concerted effort to write down all those little things and try to make them big, instead of squishing them down because I feel small. Cause... there's a LOT of stuff in here, you know. And it needs to come out.

AND I AM SICK OF SOCIAL NICETIES KEEPING ME DOWN! THEY'RE LIKE THE MAN, BUT THEY KNIT YOU AN UGLY SHAWL! I AM HERE TO CELEBRATE AND THROW CONFETTI! AND CLOWNS!

*I have no idea what thimbles do. None. Zip.

Today I was walking out of the liquor store when a homeless (I assume) guy asked me for 26 cents. Besides being a rather small amount of money it is also the name of a song I like, so I gave it to him and into the liquor store he went. People always say, don't give them money, they'll just spend it on booze! Well you know what, I just spent my money on booze! Who the hell am I to judge? Am I somehow superior to this guy? I feel like saying, here, get a hooker too, it's on me!

HI BLOGGER. I'm back posting because I had no other place to post this, even though nobody reads this thing. Or maybe that's the point. Once people start reading you have to deal with their OPINIONS. Unsolicited opinions spawn in Satan's underpants. TRUE FACTS.

Okay, enough hyperbole for the evening. I'm always so angry when I come here! Well I am pretty much always angry because the man I love is in Canada and I am not. :( Also, you know, the plight of the homeless, bigots, greedy fucking republicans, all the usual things to be angry about that seem so much more angrifying when the man you love is far far away!

I guess what I am saying is, it would be nice if somewhere felt like home. Eventually. Probably a lot of people in Ohio feel like they are home, but probably a lot of people lots of places do. I just never have. It's an odd feeling, one that produces much irrational envy of people in random states.

I have this weird sort of, obsession? with the midwest. Like it seems so safe and cosy and... ensconced, somehow, to live in a place like Ohio, with other people from Ohio, doing things that people in Ohio do.* It's probably a good thing I'll never actually move there, so the fantasy can stay tucked away in a little happy place in my brain and not suffer the horror of coming true.

People in Ohio did seem very nice whilst travelling through, as did people in Pennsylvania. I like saying "whilst." People will be very nice in Canada, I'm sure. Perhaps Canada will be a sort of very large Ohio?

*I think I imagine people in Ohio going to state fairs all the time, or something. I'm sure it isn't any more wholesome than anywhere else in the country, but I like imagining it is. I always secretly wanted to be in the 4-H Club. Curse my wicked, wayward childhood. May my own children do better, and win lots of blue ribbons.

It's hard to know who you are when you're always alone. It's hard to find what makes you YOU without placing it in context, let alone stick to it. Like when I thought becoming a vegetarian was a good idea, I wasn't in a... colony of vegetarians, as so many others seem to be, I was a lone ranger vegetarian. And it didn't stick. Well ok, maybe I wasn't meant to be a vegetarian at all.

Or when I tried to find religion, I had a genuine interest in at least learning about the bible, etc, but... once again, I was going to church alone, I didn't know anyone and I didn't fit in. I wasn't in a happy bubbly group like all the established church-goers. So it didn't stick. Well, maybe I wasn't meant for organized religion at all.

But what am I meant for? I could come up with a million more examples like these from my life, and they all lead the same place - nowhere. The common denominator is always being alone. It's said you shouldn't define yourself by other people, but isn't that kind of part of having a life? Having a place where you belong, a group you identify with? All I've been able to stick to doing on my own is lazing around on the computer. And now I tend to pick things to do that don't require a group, a context. Solitary activities. It's not satisfying, but it's not UNsatisfying in the way the other endeavors were.

I want to run away to Disneyland.

Oh yeah. Thing #1 that makes me happy: being a giant dork. And being comfortable being a giant dork, and having someone to dork out with.

Like seriously, I want to live at Disneyland. Wait, didn't I write this same thing like 5 years ago?

I can't believe I started this journal 7 years ago. I'd say time flies, but... it really doesn't. It just doesn't seem that long ago. I mean, there are things that happened more recently that seem longer ago because they've lost all relevance.

I think writing here again will be good. I find livejournal very stifling when it comes to writing actual feelings. It's good for graphics and silly posts. Not that I won't be silly here... I mean, does the pope shit in the woods? Right, right.

I don't want to stop writing but I think I've run out of things to say. THAT IS A METAPHOR FOR SOMETHING I THINK.

But I'm tryin, oh lord, I keep tryin...

Apparently when I am very sad I talk in blues songs that don't actually exist. righto.

So umm... I appear to be back here again. There is no way I can possibly clutter up my livejournal with what is currently cluttering up my mind. Which is to say, AHJDHDHHSSHJSJSKJSH. It seems every year about this time I get all depressed and nostalgic and introspective-y and am drawn back here by some mysterious (yet I suspect benign) force. Seasonal depression, thou art a heartless bitch. Long distance relationship, thou art even more so. Bloggy, you take it all with the grace of a camel bearing a shitton of water. Which is to say, I love you bloggy. And possibly something undetermined having to do with humps.

I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF BEING ALONE. There it is in a nutshell. Also I miss things, as I tend to do, but would likely not miss them as acutely if I WAS NOT SO FUCKING SICK OF BEING ALONE.

I think, I hope, I even pray that I have finally met the right person. Of course, he lives in Canada. Of course, I do not live in Canada. STUPID, STUPID GEOGRAPHY. *kicks the border* So this is why, even though I am technically in a relationship, I am still alone all the time and here writing in you, bloggy! Amazing, the irony, innit? The worst part is, as I am feeling this very night, the sense of loneliness and depression I feel WHILE ACTUALLY TALKING WITH HIM is going to ruin the whole thing in the meantime. Yes, I am depresseed and talking to my boyfriend simultaneously because he is not here with me, nor is he ever here with me. One day he will be, or I will be with him rather... presuming the above outlined scenario imagined in the throes of my sadness does not actually happen.

Did I mention, AHJDHDHHSSHJSJSKJSH? I did? Oh, good.

Okay, so I just started talking to him about this stuff. Now THAT'S a first, simultaneously pouring my heart out here and to an actual human being! Could this be... progress? Or something? Something progresslike, like a bird?

I guess we shall see how it concludes! As always I am afraid I will fuck up because I have absolutely no clue what to do with other human beings, and I've already fucked up in this situation, but... he's still here. And the evil little voice in the back of my head chants "for now... for now..." like one of those creepy chanting children in horror movies.

So far so good re: interaction. Okay, this is actually rather funny... play-by-play reporting of the situation. I just need Dick Vitale to jump in and yell, "AWESOME BABY!"

Situation stabilized. Perhaps I should tackle relations in the Middle east next.

Cheerio,
Yak Girl

OH WAIT! In midst of actual human contact, I totally forgot I wanted to make this list of things that make me happy! In no particular order:

MST3K (duh)
The Big Bang Theory
Harry Potter
Disney
certain nostalgical things from childhood, though this is mixed with sadness since most of them are no longer there... hmm... still mostly happy though.
the vintage-look Mickey Mouse t-shirt I ordered from ebay. This item is tied into the previous two the following ways: 1. It is Disney, duh. 2. Of the many things I remember fondly and wistfully about growing up in LA, Disneyland is STILL THERE.
And lastly, of course, the Boy. Not so much this current, text-based relationship which I find constantly frustrating and sometimes depressing, but HIM. He is the reason I'm putting myself through all this, after all.

Sadness, go away from me...
Sadness, go and climb a tree...
*insert blues riff*
and i'm done.

Loneliness should be a blessing, not a curse. Loneliness should be an implement to bring people together in life-changing ways. Instead everyone is proud, and lonelier. Why are people so damn self-defeating?

If only hearts glowed in the dark.

I'm better than this. I like my dorky, ditzy, crazy, spazzed-out self so much. I miss her. I want her back. I get to be her a little bit in CL... ironic, how I am so much more myself in a game than in "real life." Whatever that is. Ironic also that, through no real design of my own, I now have the life I want for myself in a game. Is this a sign I really can achieve these things? It's just so damn much easier to meet people online. I think I will be a great wife and mom, given the chance, it's getting there that's so damn hard. Why can't I meet someone wonderful in real life like I have online? I'm almost jealous... of myself. :P

I wonder how it all will end up. Maybe there are wonderful things ahead. I'm trying to not let my depression seep into my CL life, since it's the one consistently positive thing I have right now. I don't want to ruin it. But by god, sometimes it's hard and exhausting and more than anything I just want someone to talk to. It's a delicate balance. Putting on a brave and happy face, being the person I want to be, yet deep down wanting to be able to show my weakness and frustration and still be accepted. Sometimes I feel if I don't it will start affecting my game play like it does everything else. Yet I like having the fantasy world as a haven away from it all...

And most of all, I wonder if it's just me. I'm very confused. sigh.

...

It feels very real. So real that it hurts. It's everything I want, but it isn't real. And yet I wonder, the motivations behind it... am I the only one who feels this way? God, he just makes me feel so deeply.

Stranger things have happened. :)

I might like life if people could just be honest with each other. I might like it a lot.