quirkytizzy: (Default)
I'm posting some of my favorites, some of the ones that hit me heavy. Some of the ones that speak to me. These are the ones that spoke loud enough to me that I wanted to keep them.

WARNING: cut for the extremely image heavy post. And I mean very heavy, open only if you've time and a really good connection. )
quirkytizzy: (Default)
I'm posting some of my favorites, some of the ones that hit me heavy. Some of the ones that speak to me. These are the ones that spoke loud enough to me that I wanted to keep them. (Click on pics to see better)

WARNING: cut for the extremely image heavy post. And I mean very heavy, open only if you've time and a really good connection. )
quirkytizzy: (Default)
I'm posting some of my favorites, some of the ones that hit me heavy. Some of the ones that speak to me. These are the ones that spoke loud enough to me that I wanted to keep them. (Click on pictures to see better, some downloaded pretty small)

WARNING: cut for the extremely image heavy post. And I mean very heavy, open only if you've time and a really good connection. )
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Last week, I visited the Post Secret's homepage to see that someone, in response to an illegal immigrant who was in so much despair in their life had written that they planned to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, had started a Facebook group in order to support this person and plead for their safety.

I joined. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=119460778095373&v=wall Those who live in the area have flooded the Golden Gate Bridge with postcards, letters, and visits in order to support the person who mailed the secret in. The Facebook site that they created in order to handle the overwhelming response has 190 pictures of people sending in their support with written messages of "Please don't jump" and beautiful pictures and post secrets of love in response.

Today, I read on the post secret homepage that two individuals who had gone to the bridge had found a man who, while probably unrelated to the mailed secret, had been planning to jump.

And thanks to two people who took a walk down the Golden Gate Bridge to show their support for someone who mailed in, this man did not jump. (Story at end of page)

http://www.postsecret.com/

There but for the Grace of God, and all other human beings on the face of the Earth, go I, go you, and go us all.

10-22-09-
(handwritten journal entry of mine)

Lights off, door open to the rain, classical music on....to find some peace, some center that I can put all of the years to.

It is not forthcoming. You cannot put away years.

I don't want to die, but some days I realize why I don't always fear dying. Because then this will end. There will be no more grief over what never happened, I won't have to wake up everyday and face the press of decades of abuse upon every breath. It, as I, will be gone. Into whatever comes next, be it another life, or oblivion.

It's melodramatic, it's a martyr complex - it is all of these ridiculous, angsty things, but the knowledge that it will all some day BE OVER.....it is a relief.

And here we are. The only survivors - if you can call us that - of what comes of generations of abuse and denial. Will we make it? Is that a question anyone but ourselves can answer?

It is not. Our own hearts are the only ones who can decide that. The other side is worth it. It's just pain that hurts.

I am taking an incredible leap of faith here. For love. For hope. For faith itself.

For the hope that one day, even as death brings the complete rest, life will provide some of it's own with time and healing. For the hope that one day, this will all have been worth it.

It has to be. What else is there to believe otherwise?


I wish I lived in San Fransisco. I would put this there. But for the effort of the Universe, I say please, please don't jump.

It is worth it.
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God I hope the sun comes out tomorrow. A couple of days I can handle - a week straight is bad for me. I wish I'd had enough sense to be grateful for all of the sunshine in Arizona when I was there. Oi.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
i am what i am.
ghosts that have long since ceased
speaking in riddles
imaginary imagery
overlaps architecture
steel, stone, brick and mortar crumbled.

*

She collects poetry books
like some people collect hymnals
saying seventeen dollars isn't too much to spend
on one good poem.
(she says the same thing about food,
even as she never eats leftovers)

*



*

Time counts itself only-
Tick. Tock. Trick.
Drop.

*

Not always sure what I want to say. I'd like to give an amusing ancedote, but as I spent most of the day in bed either watching movies or else sleeping, there are none to give. Ah well. My Name Is Bruce was AWESOME and The Knowing was surprisingly engaging. (I like movies that surprise you with alien encounters. Pair it up with the fascination that most of humanity has for our species's demise and BAM, I'm wide-eyed and watchin'.)

Heard a fabulous term the other day. "Cyberchondriac" - i.e - those idiots who look up illnesses and disorders on the internet and then think "OMG I HAVE THAT!". No, you twats, you don't have a disease or disorder until you've been diagnosed with it. The last thing I want to see when I cruise Livejournal is you and your whining about how much living with mental illness sucks when it's obvious that you not only have no idea what you are talking about, but would also use terms that can be quite viable in the pursuit of recovery from those illnesses (something that cyberchondriacs have less interest in) in order to prop up your own anxieties and flaws.

Listen. It's embarressing. And it gives the rest of us bad names. So just don't do it. Or if you are, stop posting "lyke omg im so deprezzed somethings wrng wth me" all over the internet and just keep pretending to all your friends that you're taking Paxil and get on with it.

(Sarcastic elistism! Ha, I crack myself up with it!)

The older I get, and the more people I get to watch interact with their parents as adults, the more I am in some ways relieved that I don't have to deal with that particular aspect of adult life. All people seem to regress - if only a little, if only out of respect - around their parents. Having to take their opinions into account, even at the behest of their own lives, seems complicated and tiresome some days.

On the other hand, I very much saw Patrick's parent's as parental figures, and cared very much for their opinion of me. Often I would stop before I did something and think "What would Pamela think about me doing this?"

Since leaving Patrick, I don't have this - and this is the amazing part - it kind of feels good. It hurt so much in the beginning, but these days, it seems....freeing. Oh, don't get me wrong, I still get plenty mopey about not having parents, but hey - any forward movement is good, right?

My pre-ordered copy of LUNAR for the PSP will available for pickup from Gamestop tommorow night. YAY!

I'll probably re-open this after posting and keep adding. It's that kind of night.

EDIT: We all know I'm accident prone. Clumsy to a fault, possibly fatally clumsy. What really surprises me is when I wind up with bruises on my back. My legs, hips, feet - even hands, (I learned earlier this week you can bruise your fingers) I understand. But my back? Even with my manual labor job, it seems tricky. Normally the location of a bruise on my back means I've just got gotten a damned satisfying whipping, but there have been no play sessions as of late.

Very strange.

Aaaand my clumsiness has just now spelled doom for my not-so-cheap (and not bought by me, either) MP3 player. Despite having been far rougher with it in the past, apparently all it took was being in the front pocket of my backpack for a couple of hours to destroy the LCD screen. It still plays, I just have to play Sherlock Holmes extrodinare to find out what's playing. Go me!
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Why is it that every time flurries are predicted it winds up dumping something like five inches of snow from the sky? Seriously, I think "flurries" are the new code word for "Load the shotgun and hole up motherfuckers, cuz this shit's COMIN' DOWN!" Argh.

After days of not getting enough sleep, I wound up sleeping twelve or so hours yesterday and more upon coming home from work today, leading me with an oddly upset stomach and just barely toeing the line between agitated (for no real reason, either, grrrr) and calm. I've been feeling the need to hibernate, to withdraw from human interaction for a little while. I keep waiting for my period to start (god I hate PMS) and it's not forthcoming.

To be perfectly honest, I'm so fed up with the general human populace (and again, for no real reason. Wtf?) that when a woman on television shared about her bottom concerning her addiction, I looked at the tv and simply said "Yeah, sucks to be you, bitch." Normally the sharing of the heart-break of active addiction has me in rapt attention, but today all it made me want to do is roll my eyes.

There's no real reason for all of this. I had a good day at work. I've obviously had enough sleep. I've eaten. I'm not having a nic-fit. Chalk it up to hormones, I suppose, and figure it will go away.

A Post Secret that has caught my attention lately.

The last line of this is profound. It hits hard in some deep, dark part of me.

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