i am what i am.
ghosts that have long since ceased
speaking in riddles
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.
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.
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!