Aberrant · Orange

I guess I should be careful what I wish for. My depression is back! Woo! I had forgotten about that handy insomnia. Now I don't go to sleep until twoish, and I wake up at four, or five, or six. Totally ridiculous. I think this happens when I get stressed. Last time I felt this way I was about 10-20 credits away from graduating a year early, and I was freaking out about time, falling in love with Daniel (Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!), and my dad was being more crazy than usual. Now, I think he's trying to make up for about 13 years of not being able to lecture me, and trying to cram it all into the twenty days before I can just leave the house when he starts bitching. Hoorah. Leah's gone to do her chemotherapy this week, so there's nobody around to tell him he's being a little bit over the top. I try to stay in my room as much as possible. I even cleared a big section of my floor so I can lay on it and let the weight of my emo teenage depression crush me until there's nothing left but some eyeliner smudges and a few pages of bad poetry.
I cut my hair, and it was a nice experience. I'm happy with the way it looks. I bought some silver docs this weekend, I call them my moon boots. With some huge white-rimmed sunglasses I will be unstoppable.
---
'Err, Sara... nice haircut, but why do you dress like a freak?'
'All the cool kids are doing it. Don't you want to be cool? I want to be cool.'
'No, I have a healthy sense of personal identity, I don't need the acceptance of others to be comfortable with myself.'
'But, don't you ever feel the need to identify with a popular subculture to draw attention to yourself that you aren't getting elsewhere?'
'No, actually.'
'Well, fuck you, square!'
---
My comebacks are awesome.

I actually have nothing exciting to say. I realized last night that I miss being depressed, which is incredibly stupid on like ten different levels. I don't know, I guess it's just that I could lay on my floor for hours doing nothing at all, sleep all the time, and just generally be a lazy asshole with absolutely no want or motivation to do anything else. Not that that isn't me now, but I have to be out doing things now to keep me busy. Maybe I don't want to be so busy. I'm sure if I wasn't the hugest procrastinator ever that a lot more of my free time would be spent having a good time instead of worrying about all the stuff I have to do, but that would involve me actually having to change the way I do things. Who wants to do that?

This weekend has been interesting so far. Very interesting indeed. Yesterday, after my fucking Cultural Anthropology teacher was finished talking to us about Velikovsky (which I am quite upset over), I went over to Meagan's. We went to Point St. George and enjoyed the scenery. I had my friend Little Kris come with us. A few little snippets from our conversations:
---
"And you'll have to walk home, and you'll be all walking home in the rain, and then you'll see the deer, and you'll be all 'Hello, deer!', and the deer will be all like 'Hello! I have antlers!' and you'll be walking."
-
"Meagan. What are you thinking about?"
"...Yellow."
"Holy shit, I just had a huge montage of yellow things just like, go through my mind. Like... dead grass."
-
"Indubiabibly!"
---
I also bought an Elton John CD. That's right. It was a whim, and I followed it shamelessly. Well, ok, maybe there was just a little bit of shame involved. It was an amusing time. Today, I had my dad lecture me for like half an hour about the same old crap when I went home to get the bass and a shirt. Meagan went with me, and she just had to stand there while he was bitching me out. It was embarrassing.
We got a ton of free food today. It began with the free taco bell. Then, tonight, we spent from 10 until 2 at the freaking 76 talking to the night shift dude there. He has the same birthday as I do. We got free drinks, free hot pockets, free cotton candy, and free cigarettes. I swept the floor, partly because I felt bad, and partly because I really enjoy sweeping. It's a sickness. Meagan and I just got finished talking about how awesome it would be to be five inches tall. I was laughing so hard I was crying, now I have mascara in my eyes and my contacts are like 'Oh, you want to see? Well fuck you, Sir! We have a totally different plan!'. This might be a good time to go to sleep.

My dad thinks I've been sneaking out of the house. Never mind the fact that I'd have to remove my screen from the inside, jump out like six feet, then find a way to climb back in through the window and put the screen back from the inside. I've been sneaking out to enjoy all of Crescent City's midnight pleasures. There's so much to do here. Those rainy streets, the hobo bushes, how can I stay away? All those 8 year old kids I sell heroin to have bedtimes anyway. But, this doesn't matter, I have to go home and be freaked out on. Freaked out on TO THE MAX. I might just see if I can go stay at my grandma's for a week. We drove around in a pointless parking lot circle today. It was intense. Then I had to do some navy seal shit to avoid stepping out of the car into the freaking river of water Meagan decided to park in. Other than that, I've pretty much just been trying to forget the fact that I actually have to go home. MY EMO TEARS FALL LIKE RAIN!!1!!11!!1!1!!!!!
That was me making fun of myself.
I had more to say. But it's gone. Into the abyss!

Sitting outside last night, I saw a large, hairy man wearing a white helmet and riding a rather ridiculous bicycle, which had flashing lights. Now, I'm not making fun of him because he was following reasonable safety precautions, but it was funny. I did laugh hysterically for about five minutes straight, almost knocking over the ash tray and basically making a fool out of myself. I'm not sure if what I saw was enough to warrant such an extreme reaction, but it felt nice to actually laugh. Even if I was making fun of someone. I decided on names for the guys who have shown interest in Meagan in the last few months: Necrophiliac Stalker Man (this is not a recent creation), Assumed Uncomfortable Sexual Experience With His Mother Man (or Tries Too Hard Man if we're feeling lazy), and Masochistic Gamer Man (I wasn't sufficiently inspired, and haven't witnessed enough weirdness to come up with something more creative). I'll have to go home today. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself once I get there, probably math homework, but I'm sure it will be boring. I'll spend most of my time staring at my wall and listening to music I think. I need to get back into my regular routine of laziness. I think I'll sit on my rocks at the beach and write. I've been thinking about it more and more, and it's something I need to start doing again. I need a random sentence to start from. I'll work on that first.

The end of the end. I suppose this is un-hiatus-ified. Been trying to keep myself as busy and distracted as possible, today doing other people's yard work. One might underestimate the difficulty of chain-smoking while raking. I have a large and varied amount of plant material covering my person, some of it quite pokey. I got my Cds back from Meagan, though she still has three of my shirts somewhere in the vast and wasted expanse of clothing that is the floor of her room. I no longer have the energy to search for them, though I know I should. I've found a cigarette, so further updates will have to wait until tomorrow, next week, or next weekend. Nobody reads this anyway, so I only have myself to disappoint.

I'm leaving in a few hours, back to No Internet Land. Aaron is letting me take the bass with me, which is fantastic. A whole six or seven hours of sitting in a car. Wheee. Maybe I'll get some sleep.
"If everyone responded as if it were an emergency when they became aware of feeling drowsy, an enormous amount of human suffering and catastrophic events would be avoided."
Wow, that's intense. I wanted to know why I needed sleep, so I looked it up. If I don't sleep all the time I AM GOING TO DIE.
"Seconds away from sleep may mean seconds away from death."
HOLY SHIT. Apparently this dude has a Phd in MAKING PEOPLE PISS THEMSELVES IN FEAR.
I don't want to die.
Sometimes I feel disappointed that I'm wasting the one life I have on the trivial nonsense that occupies my day. I could be out... doing things. Of course, after I'm dead, I won't really care if I wasted my life or not. Isn't that just a shiny little gem of a comforting statement? I think so.
---
'What are you doing, Sara?'
'I'm living on the EDGE, that's what!!'
'Er, how so?'
'I'm DROWSY, bitch! Watch out! I'm about to drop some major human suffering on your punk ass! Things are about to get catastrophic!'
---

I do not claim to have mastered the art of Hitting it and Quitting it. I have hit it, and I have also quit it, if in fact 'Quitting It' refers to quitting the act of hitting it. After hearing a song on the subject (the singer was quite adamant that these were actions he wanted me to take), I was determined to find the answers, and write on the process as it occured. A quick trip to UrbanDictionary, appeased my curiosity. To 'Hit It and Quit it' is 'To have sex with a girl then never contact her again'. Though I have never done this personally, it seems to be quite popular with the youngins. Where the hell was the 'Learn yo' bitch-ass 'bout hittin' it an' quittin' it!' class during my early formative years?
------
They're going over there to try and find the last shreds of their fucking dignity, after confusing three words they should have learned the difference between somewhere in, you know, grade school. The two of them are walking to the store, too. Maybe you should ask them to buy some koolaid.
---
(In 'The Voice Sara Uses to Make Fun of Everyone' [You should recognize this])
"Umm, Sara? Why do you like, have to be so mean about it? It's not like it's a big deal or anything... Can't we all just like, love each other? Everybody matters, and I'm sure you make silly mistakes like that all the time. What do you have to say about that, hmm?"
"How do you hide money from a hippie?"
"Uh, like, I don't know..."
"Put it under the soap! Ahhahaha!"
---
I like to pretend I don't make stupid mistakes, utilizing tactics such as avoidance, and often outright denial. I've built an entire world of narcissistic self-deceit for myself. It's beautiful.

Heading back home on Sunday after a few weeks of a Winter 'Vacation' of sorts. Back to oppression, hate, and wretchedness. Though, at the same time, I'll be going back to friends, the ocean, and a quiet, baby-free house. It really isn't that bad at home, as long as my dad isn't upset with me. He's had a couple of weeks to get over hating my face, so, with luck, everything should be peachy. I feel a little homesick, which is strange. School will start. It's a marvelous, friendly distraction. Hopefully I don't have any psycho instructors again, fucking christ.

Songs I've been digging these past few days:
Ministry - Lay Lady Lay
Neutral Milk Hotel - The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. One
Soft Cell - Sex Dwarf
Blonde Redhead - 10
Pixies - The Sad Punk
GWAR - The Obliteration of Flab Quarv 7
Neil Young - Down By the River
Melvins - Night Goat
Bush - Swim
Pantera - Sandblasted Skin
Butthole Surfers - Alcohol
1000 Homo DJs - Supernaut
The Dead Milkmen - Beach Party Vietnam
A brief insight into my inner workings. I do believe that the type of music a person listens to says a lot about who they are.
(Oh my god, I'm a monster.)
Which makes me think of this comic: http://cupofsuffering.comicgenesis.com/vault/020506.html
because that's totally where I stole it from.
Other comics I find particularly entertaining:
http://www.yellow5.com/pokey/
http://www.whiteninjacomics.com/
http://www.boasas.com/
[Edit: I can't believe I forgot!] http://www.alessonislearned.com/
Woo! Now you have two random lists. You can do whatever you want with them. Yes, even that. Just don't let the neighbors see you.

I had a disgustingly long, clever, and involved entry, which I cut to paste onto something else, because I stupidly forgot about the spellcheck thing already here, and I go to paste it, all happy and satisfied with myself, and BLAM it pastes something else. As a result of my previously mentioned stupidity, I try to paste in this window, and it still pasted the other crap, effectively destroying my ability to use that handy 'undo' option. I'm much too tired to write it all again tonight, which makes me incredibly sad. And annoyed. Mostly just annoyed. I'd kick something but I've got a bum foot, what with being a stupid clumsy ass and trying to skateboard. See if I ever try to be cool again, damnit!

That's right. Consonants can be enticing. Unlike those vulgar, smutty vowels, consonants have class.
For some reason, I've had this word stuck in my head for the last hour or so. There have been absolutely no instances tom-foolery today.
I do rather enjoy 'pedantic nonsense words' as well... I haven't yet reached what I would prefer as my level of literary pedantry. I don't talk half as well as I should. I curse like a sailor, use a limited vocabulary, talk too fast, and stumble over my words. This is a constant source of shame.
---
'Alas, the occasion has arisen for us to pontificate on the various social, political, and socio-political injustices occurring in the world, as well as in our own blighted country! Sara, what words do you have on this interesting and controversial topic?'
'Fuck the fucking eshtablishmenfff an' shit! I like, have so many tooooootally cool-rific tings to say! It sucks! I don't like it! Eat that, fascist pigs!'
'...Well then.'
---
*Sigh.* I need to work on that.

It's strange how, sometimes, the longer you're away from someone, the stronger you feel about them. Memories about traits, physical or personality-based, you found unpleasant or unattractive slowly fade away, and the more time that passes without seeing them, the more perfect they seem. I used to know so many perfect people!. Beautiful people with marvelous personalities, who were interested in such unique things, were clever, intelligent, and shining examples of humanity at its finest. They blessed me by allowing my presence, having every right to turn up their perfectly-sized, perfectly-groomed noses and ignore my pitifully inferior existence.
I wonder if anyone remembers me with a perfect nose...
---
"Oh, Reginald! Your nose is exquisite!"
"Sara, my love for you is pure and perfect! Even my own highly developed brain has trouble putting into words the depth of the love I feel! I must quote from an obscure piece of literature you've no doubt never heard of to properly convey my aforementioned feelings!"
"Please do! Your voice is neither annoying nor abrasive! I am blinded by how white your teeth are when you smile at your own cleverness!"
---
That's how it was.

I had a horrible dream about a large group of people being trapped in a pit. Two of them escaped, but couldn't save the others, and the rest died drawn out, gruesome deaths, drowning in their own filth. They were all astronauts. These aren't the types of dreams I like having. I slept for a good twelve hours though. I don't have anything to look forward to except cleaning. Aaron and I went out to get an adapter and some Cds about two hours ago. Almost fifty dollars for three Cds. It was disgusting. Figuring out the bass hasn't been hard enough for me to quit trying. I'm pathetically easy to discourage.
I'm sure I'll think of something else to blather about later this evening.

The first few minutes of the new year were OK I suppose. There was a rather loud bang outside, I figured someone got 'capped', and thought nothing of it. It happened again, and someone said 'Oh, the fireworks started. Happy new year.' There was no partying, no alcohol, no decadent indulgence in illegal drugs, no sex, nothing. It was hard for me to fall asleep, I finally passed out at around one thirty, woke up at four to the baby screaming, which it proceeded to do, every single time I almost fell asleep again. For another four hours. Thank god it isn't mine, I have no patience for this kind of thing, at all. There is absolutely no place I can go to get away from the noise in a one-bedroom apartment. The fact that the baby and I both sleep in the living room does not help. I had to be up at eight, went with a family friend and his family to Santa Cruz for the day. I had a grand time, played silly arcade games, had an absolutely horrid burger, then we went to some tide pools and watched the sunset. It had the potential to be a very romantic moment, had there actually been someone there to be romantic with. This kind of opportunity doesn't usually happen to me. The closest I've come to kissing in the rain is having a soggy tree drip on my head. Heart meltingly romantic, no? It sure did it for me. "Oh yes, soggy tree drips! Kiss me again, Sancho!"

I've had to wrack my brain for artists and songs I enjoyed, to make a playlist thing on finetune these last two days. I've needed new music for a while now, I don't live in an area where I can buy music that isn't in 'TODAY'S TOP 40 GREATEST HITS!', and I haven't had my own internet for almost two years now, so I'm a bit stunted and behind, musically. A lot of these songs bring back memories.

I have vivid dreams when I sleep on the futon. I have been an 18th century French woman smoking cigarettes in the grocery store. I have watched stars explode. There are very often jungles of plants inside buildings. There were upside-down waterfalls and spaghetti caves. On occasion, I laugh in my sleep, sometimes so hard I wake myself up. I wish I could sleep more often.

Yes, the height of vanity, the pinnacle of narcissism, the very zenith of egotism - the livejournal page! In this site, I have found a way to document my every vacuous thought from every vacuous moment, and put it on display for the masses. They will fall to their knees in sheer awe of the glory of my prose, gasp in shock and amazement as I tell them such lurid details as 'I'm bored.' or 'I had some toast today.', and shake their heads in wonderment and adoration of my overuse of adjectives and run-on sentences. It was only a matter of time before I gave in.