I wonder why.

Remeron is kicking my ass. Officially. Thoroughly. Irrevocably. I slept 18 hours last... can't quite say "night", now can I?

Zyprexa, paxil, zoloft, wellbutrin -- several varying doses, luvox, and now a combo of this and xanax for emergencies (as needed). I fully expect my next medication to be named Cenobyte.

I dreamed that I was a young man, and I had a young girlfriend and lived with another young man and his girlfriend. My gf was irritated at me for not doing the laundry, and I was attempting to mollify her with extended conversation... her birthday was in February. "I always thought it was kind of sexy to have a birthday in February." I'm pretty slick, in dreams.

Woke up today and spent the next five hours begging my boyfriend to reassure me that I was, in fact, awake.

Quite possibly I am not, despite his reassurances, and I am noding in my sleep. I beseech the gods to add a coda to the Everything FAQ: do not node while asleep.

Maybe I ought to have made this a dream log.

D'oh.

I love you. Don't stay up too late.


It's a hot night..

The first one for months. Spring is in full bloom, and the smell of summer is in the air.

It's the Sunday afternoon lawnmowers, the colour of mountains on a hot day.

I can barely remember the last time I sat, alone in my room, in the flickering light of candles.
Enjoying the scent of the burning wax, as it combines with the sweet smoke of incense, smoldering slowly.

It's been the longest time, since I've sat in the still air, and felt sweat, as it trickles,
beads around my neck, dampens the t-shirt against my back.

And I'm reminded of the last time I can remember sweat...

Lying in her bed, feeling her next to me.
She commented on it that night, my back clammy, the dampness no relief against the heat I felt.

It's ironic I guess...as my skin wept, in an effort to stay cool, my heart's warmth was dying.
As I lay there, I felt the lack of warmth in her touch, the distance as she turned, and faced away.
The bitter cruelty in the warmth I felt...as everything froze...and I felt as though I died.

And now, summer approaches again.
The promise of tossing and turning through baking nights, in perfectly still air, beckons again.
My window open, I can hear the sound of a world that has trouble sleeping, that never truly stops.

And the heat returns to my skin. Tiny beads of sweat gather, combine, to create the
momentum needed for them to trickle down my body.
And I realise...returning heat isn't enough to thaw what she left frozen.
I could bathe myself in an inferno, breathe the flames in deeply - and still feel this cold.

This is out of my hands...it's not for me to apply heat to the core of my heart. I can't thaw my soul.

But I know this. As I feel the moisture on my skin, I also sense droplets forming on the shell of this frozen core.

And It's with a sense of hope, that I sit in the candlelight, and realise with wonder...

Summer is coming

We remember.

November 4th, 1995

Itzhak Rabin (1922 - 1995)

Did you forget?

Well, it is yet another boring Sunday. Whoever said "day of rest" wasn't kiding. It seems the whole town is asleep.

There is the possibility of a hurricane hitting us here in Southern Florida. I didn't even know the storm was a hurricane, untill yesterday, when a good friend of mine called me (he lives 2000 miles away) and asked about it. He informed me that it was/is a catagory 4, which is a big storm! People are frantically running to Publix to buy water, canned goods, and batteries. The public gets so frantic over these storms. Its great to people watch as they push in line, get pissy, and scream and yell at each other.

My boyfriend "Fred" comes home Tuesday afternoon from his vacation. Eventhough we have only been dating about 2 months, I miss him more then I could imagine. It seems everything reminds me of him - a song on the radio, a tee-shirt he would wear, and I am even starting to see him when other people walk by! Love does some strange things to you, things I could never even attempt to understand.

Tuesday I am going to Orlando to go to Islands of Adventure and Universal Studios. I have 2 extra tickets I won right after I bought my tickets the last time I went. I never ever ever win ANYTHING, but I win tickets. Go figure. They expire at the end of this month, and I don't want them to go to waste. Hopefully, there won't be anything strange happening, like bomb threats or hurricanes!

I have been drinking too much tea. I have been hiding the world with me, if you are looking for it. I was coordinating the making of many mix tapes with the sweeping of hair from different rooms. All day I have been aware that what I am missing to get the jobs done right is paper towels. I can't Windex the mirror, can't rid the counter of stray hairs, can rightfully draw grease away from the bacon in the morning. All my smoker's candles are almost gone, but I think I have enough change to get another pack.

I still do not know how to manage the thermostat. Last night I slept in the living room because I am afraid of the dark. I watched The Gods Must Be Crazy, and I agreed that love cannot come so easily. Silly as it is, I cannot seem to let myself deserve a day and a night without having to do anything (yet I did do things: bought gas, got the paper, bought groceries, got my nails done). I scanned the classifieds and there are no jobs. Nothing I can do on the side for extra money. Mike gave me two canisters of tea bags which are round and tagless, and I can't stop drinking them. I don't have the time to think about all the things I didn't do five years ago; I can only think about all the things I haven't done this week.

Talked to Jake last night, who is divorcing an old college friend of mine. He sounds just like my brother, and I love him for it, for being so level headed. He tells me KC went through 3 bottles of Southern Comfort in a week, hopes it's just a phase. Her mother called from New York, tried to talk him into staying with KC, mentioning a trust fund. I can't imagine. He called me so he could smoke outside and continue our online conversation. I could hear little Zoe giving him play doctor shots and Henry prepping for a bath. He plays in a band, and apparently, he learned, when bikers like you, they rev their engines. One guy road through a hall where a fireman's benefit was being held (a gig Jake was playing at) on his motorcycle, drove it onstage where the band was and revved his engine.

Today I have to get Sheri's vacuum back to her; I've had it for a week now. I don't own a vacuum; when we were next door neighbors we shared hers. I don't have a microwave. Frying things to heat them up is so silly. I made jambalaya and had to fry the leftovers. I watched SNL last night and it wasn't funny. It doesn't give me much hope for humor. Steve Martin has a new book out that I'd like to read.

One guy called me yesterday, waking me from an afternoon nap. The caller ID said Domino Sugar. He said he was paged with this number, and I said he was wrong. He asked my name and I told him it was Laura. He asked if I was black or white and I told him I was not talking any further with a total stranger. He asked, "You actin' like I'm some sort of criminal er sumpthin'" and what I thought was you made that assumption, not me but all I thought to say was "No, I just don't know you." He asked my last name and I told him that this conversation was over.

I watched this show calle Cheaters last night; it comes on around midnight. It's like Cops and The Real World rolled together. People who suspect their lovers/spouses are cheating can hire this team to spy on them, then confront them on TV if they're guilty. One man was a 60 something truck driver and his 4o something girlfriend was having men coming in and out of the hotel room they were living in all hours of the night. They even got a camera in the room to catch her fucking another guy. She looked like she was on drugs. He walked in on her at the hotel with a guy. Busted. Cold. Another guy was caught in the park laying under a blanket with a woman in broad daylight by his common law wife. They always seem to be bottom barrel, lower class people. I'd like to see more white bread people getting busted in such a cheesy way.

Almost every mix tape I send out has the song De Cara A La Pared (Face to the Wall) by Lhasa on it. Here are the lyrics in English (the song is sung in Spanish):

Crying
Face to the wall
The city goes dark

Crying
And there's nothing else
I'm dying, maybe
Where are you?

Dreaming
Face to the wall
The city burns

Dreaming
Without breathing
I want to love you
I want to love you

Praying
Face to the wall
The city drowns

Praying
Santa Maria
Santa Maria
Santa Maria

Five. FIVE, Goddamn it! I got a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and for some reason there had to be FIVE flavored SARDINE. Why me, God?

In addition to that, I must add that I steadfastly ate the entire bag, without spitting any of them out, though I also acquired one black pepper, two horseradish, and one grass. Not to mention those five fucking SARDINES. As far as I could tell I did not end up sampling the booger flavor. Lucky me. (Can't say I'm looking forward to the day when the packs begin to include dirt flavor, mustard flavor, and vomit flavor.)

I just found out that on Wednesday a customer at my bookstore complained about me. Well, complained about me and my co-worker Angie, actually. She didn't complain TO either of us; she went right to the manager. Our offense? Rudeness? No. Inability to properly help? No. Ahh, you see, our horrid offense was dressing like witches. On Halloween.

My manager Mary said that if she had been the one to take the complaint, she would have told the customer we really were witches. (I'm a plain old Pagan, and I do practice witchcraft, while Angie is Wiccan.) If only the customer hadn't complained to Matthew. ::sigh::

So, this bothers me. More than it should. It bothers me because this customer is so offended at the thought of us pretending to be witches that she probably even further abhors the thought of people who don't consider "witch" an insult or a term of evil. And I hate it when I come into contact with reminders that there really are people who at the mention of my religion immediately associate it with Satan and evil. I shouldn't be surprised, I'm really not surprised honestly, but sometimes I just get a little too comfortable with myself and I forget for a while that because of my beliefs I definitely am a minority, one with a stigma attached to it that won't detach for a very long time.

So, people are jerks. I know this, and I live with it every day. But it still shocks me, because so much of the inconsideration and rudeness I deal with every day are along lines that I would never think about crossing. Take for instance the woman whom I helped in the kids' section for upwards of five minutes. I pointed out several books that would fit her needs, and she rewarded me by removing these books from their places, reading them, messing up one of their covers, and throwing all of them horizontally on top of a nicely-organized vertical arrangement of books. Also take for instance the woman who asked me to put on a movie for her child so she could study without having to be "bothered" keeping her out of mischief; the strategy didn't work, and the kid screwed up a large display of Clifford merchandise. (The mother left the mess without attempting to get her daughter to clean it up, and as a bonus she left her coffee cup and lipstick-smeared napkin on the table, along with the books she'd taken from other sections to use to aid her studies as if we were running a library.) These rude people are the types that don't buy anything anyway, so I wonder why they think they're entitled to acting the way they do? I've come to the conclusion that they don't think they're entitled. They don't think at all. I wonder when people stopped caring--in some old Mom & Pop store, the customers and the store owners knew each other, so neither would make trouble for each other. Now, since the customers don't personally know the person that is going to clean up their messes, they seem to feel justified in leaving them. Even before I worked in retail, I was a damn considerate customer. Grr.

Rant ends.

This is from a writeup that was killed. Atleast it had a positive rep tho.

I miss DMan

I do, I really do. There's so little people who agree with my political views on E2 that having a fellow right winger was nice...but now he's gone. And I doubt he'll ever be back. Sure there's the occasional right-leaning node, but for the most part it's leftist, liberal crap. Almost unAmerican. Don't care what anyone says, DMan got booted (in part) for his political stances. I'd imagine that Saige, pingouin, or any other leftist wouldn't have gotten the same consequences that DMan did given the circumstances. It seems that while it's all right to make blatent Republican/Right Wing bashing nodes, Liberal/Left Wing bashing is just unheard of. I don't think it's fair, and I miss having DMan be a battering ram for our side.

I'm not interested in discussing this with anyone, this is my opinion and I'm allowed that. I have no intention of causing trouble, complaining, or even being bitchy. I just wanted to air my frustration, and that's all. Don't read it as anything else. Please don't /msg me or reply to this writeup trying to present a counterpoint. I don't want to argue or debate this, as I see no need since everybody has their own opinion. Just let me have my opinion and let's try to play nicely.

I'm talking to my boyfriend about my last node. Its a poem one of my teachers at college wrote. Its getting down voted, he thinks its probably boys who got insulted. Its not about all men, or even men in general. This was his reply:

I know, but you have to look at some things from a male standpoint. Most guys who have to listen to women talk about how oppressive men are, are men who haven't oppressed women. It's hard having to hear it all the time.

I think women are much more mentally oppressive (this is in general. There are always exceptions.) I've never had boys play mind games with me, and I always do that to them... Not on purpose, just because I don't think about it. His reply to that was:

It's tough being told you're evil because you're part of an oppressive gender

I feel bad for boys sometimes. I mean, physically, perhaps, they have it easier. I was talking about this to boy this morning, how I'm glad I am a girl. He had a scar on his arm because he and his friend got drunk and thought it would be funny to burn each other or something.

You'd think by now things would be evened out, after years and years of evolution. But, I guess they never will be.

did she?
is she...?
wasn't that...?

no. i didn't. i didn't throw a huge party, and leave glass everywhere. not this weekend, and not in august.
no. i didn't. i didn't run over your puppy, because i don't dirve. i don't own a car.
no. i didn't. i have never had a subsription to business week, and i am not paying $37.95 for a magazine i've never read.
no. for fucksake, man, no! i did not, and will not cheat on niall with cowcrusher, or with a templar, or with anyone else!

sorry, it's been a long fucking day, and there's still another eight hours to go. i have to clean my house, i have to answer to someone who doesn't even live here about what i've been doing with my time, and why the house isn't clean, and whether i've done my homework, and how it's not fair that i'm always sick when he wants something. bottom line? i'm always sick. it's just that sometimes i'm less sick. gripe, gripe, bitch, whine...

enough shit. at least i went out with my mom today. she's going to buy a house. i am most excited at this prospect. my mom should have a house, dammit. she's 48 years old, and that's old enough not to share an overpriced apartment with a crummy boyfriend who can't pick up after himself. i told her she should get rid of him *years* ago, but hey, she learned, and now she's leaving. i think i'll set her up with some hot heavy weapons fighter. mom digs rippling muscles. that and she needs some new friends-- people who don't suck, and are not having midlife crisies. i hope she gets the house. it'll do her good.

anywhoo, back to eating rice and cleaning the house. maybe i'll actually accomplish something today.

/me is depressed

Working the night shift is great when you enjoy the night. Which I do. At least I thought I did. What I found out was that I liked it because it allowed me to get away from my regular life during the day. You can see the problem here. It doesn't help that none of my friends share those absurd hours, so for a good 6 hours of my day it's just me and my car and daylogging.

The root of all this crap is in me not being happy with the way my life is going. The irony is, it's going quite well, thank you very much. I have a great job, it's a 36k a year entry level job having no experience and no post-high school education, damn it. It's incredible. I have exactly the car I want. I'm soon going to be assembling my very own Dual 2GHz Xeon system, and I'm going to put a gig of ram in it just for the hell of it. I'm set. Underlying problem is, I'm set too early.

I could do this for the next 40 years, retire with a healthy pension and whatnot. Christ, I'm not even 20 yet. What the hell is going on here? My friends are leaving me for college, although I really only have one that I hang out with without mixed company anyway. This is ridiculous.

Please turn the page.

I was in the drive thru line at my local In-N-Out Burger yesterday behind a red pickup truck. It had oversized sideview mirrors. The back window was tinted, but as the line progressed I saw the female driver lean over and presumably kiss the passenger. She leaned back with the classic "I just kissed you what the hell do I say now" look. I totally forgot that look. It's been dangerously close to a year since my last relationship. I can't believe I'm missing it. She cheated on me for Christ's sake. She was dense, and precocious to a fault, and she had bad breath. She wasn't even that much of a looker (although she had a killer body. Brick house style). The entire relationship was trite and dumb. But damnit it was my trite, dumb, relationship. And I find myself missing it. Missing the trite, dumb things. Because they were meant only for me. Because they made me feel special. Because I could start a sentence with because and she was in such awe of me that she didn't care.

Now here I am at 3am, and nobody is around. There are only about 3 places open right now and two of them are gas stations. Everybody's asleep. And every chance that I have to get near any sort of relationship, trite and meaningless or otherwise, is gone. That's where the depression lies. Not in failure, but lack of opportunity to fail.

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