Also, I am secretly Kate Bush!

I enjoy thinking and writing as if I were a Novel or Play personified. I might come up with a scenario and narrate it internally as if it were happening to ME right at that moment. It’s basically like method acting, at which I excel. I have a keen ability to understand and feel what it is like to be in someone else’s shoes.
However, it is a dangerous game to play with my mental health. For example, I envisioned myself committing suicide in various ways. Just imagining it wasn’t in and of itself the problem… in other words, it didn’t drive me to want to actually do it. But, I upset myself; I pushed too hard and brought myself to tears. I felt lousy the rest of the day and the memory, of not the story itself but rather the emotions within it, lingered. I should probably stop doing this, but it is so entertaining that I can’t seem to knock it off.
I also come up with overly colourful, melodramatic phrases to amuse myself. Sometimes though, they are a little too melancholy and hit maybe just a little too close to home. My latest one is to say something “has crushed my spirit.”
Unfortunately, there are two entities doing that very thing to me. Thinking of the phrase only clarified my circumstances. I found the perfect words to describe my feelings. Winter has crushed my spirit. My job has crushed my spirit.
I can’t elaborate on Work at the moment… I don’t want to get too agitated while I am still here. (I’m at lunch, using my laptop.) Ah, but, as for the vile Season we’re stuck in? !@#$ is a good expression with which to begin. It has snowed every single day so far this week and it is forecasted on each remaining, as well as two the following week. I don’t want to go outside AT ALL; I just want to wait inside until May (Indiana doesn’t have much of a Spring or Autumn- we’re mostly roasting or freezing). I’m beyond grouchy. I’m also something akin to hollowed out, empty inside, void of energy. Neither sunshine, vitamins, diet, nor excercize has had much of an impact. Oh, I know the cure, alright… morning coffee on the porch, lounging outside with my a book, picnics at the Art Museum, bouncing around in the pool at the Country Club, long walks after dinner. *sigh* I’ll wait. Hope people can tolerate me in the meantime!

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This is what is inside of both of my mother’s kidneys again.

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. You can comment here or there.

A Vox friend wrote: "it hurts to look at your past and see yourself being treated like complete shit by someone you loved."

*so relating*

Doc Martens launched an ad campaign last week in the United Kingdom that featured four dead rock stars — Kurt Cobain, Joey Ramone, Sid Vicious and Joe Strummer — wearing the boots in heaven. “We wanted to communicate that Dr. Martens boots are ‘made to last,’” explains writer Andrew Petch of the Saatchi & Saatchi advertising firm, who created the ads. “We discovered that these idolized musicians wore them. Showing them still wearing their Docs in heaven dramatized the boots’ durability perfectly. And, as images, they feel very iconic.” In addition to generally being completely tasteless (Using dead rock stars to promote shoes that are “made to last?” Oh brother.), the ads drew flak from Courtney Love and Mickey Leigh, brother of the late Joey Ramone. “Obviously, we are in the same position as Courtney Love, as well as the estates of the others depicted [in the ad],” Leigh said in a statement. “We were never consulted about this ad. We were never asked for permission to use Joey’s image, or paid for the use of it. As executor of my brother’s estate I never would have approved this ad as Joey never wore these shoes. And, not that my brother was terribly religious, but the fact that he was Jewish, and this ad is not exactly Kosher, makes it that much more inappropriate, inconsiderate and contemptible.” Doc Martens summarily fired Saatchi & Saatchi, and CEO David Suddens groveled for an apology in People. “We never should have done that,” he told the magazine. “It’s not a campaign we want to be associated with.”

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. Please leave any comments there.

About two weeks ago, I finally told my boyfriend what I had been thinking for several months. “I’ve never been so lonely in all my life.” And that isn’t something one should have to say to their significant other of seven years. It hurt like hell to put the realization into words, but it had to come out before I did something self-destructive. That culminated in us “taking a break.” I made it an official cancellation last weekend and ended the relationship. The same ol’ issues kept cropping up and neither one of us seems willing to do our part to resolve them. We just swept them under the rug until it gets pulled out from under us again.

I would have waited it out again this time, like all the other times, but there was one significantly different factor- I met someone else. I wasn’t LOOKING; I was completely blindsided by it. Call it luck, karma, fate- whatever. I’m just grateful. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is deliciously fightening.

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. You can comment here or there.

There are a few things I am kind of embarrassed to admit I like. Past Is A Grotesque Animal by Of Montreal is one of them.

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. You can comment here or there.

I am more than halfway through Catch Me When I Fall by Nicci French and thus far, this book is ranking right up there alongside Prozac Nation. It too has showed me some uncomfortable truths. The main character’s inner dialog sounds uncannily like my own and her behavior is eerily similar as well.
So, does this mean I am crazy? Aren’t we all, really?

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. You can comment here or there.

The evile which is My Space has revealed a couple of things to me. Most of the people I went to high school with are married and have several children. (They’ve also remained in the same neighborhood in which we were raised.) I never wanted either. It’s actually kind of baffling to me. These facts only serve as another reminder of how different from them I really [still] am.
Also, nearly everyone that called me homophobic names in high school turned out to be gay. (Hello pot, this is kettle.) Although I try so hard to take the high road, that gave me a nasty little smirk, I confess. I knew it. I just knew.

Originally published at TousledElegance.net. You can comment here or there.

Sometimes I think that I am more in love with the idea of being in love, with the concept of love, than the experience/relationship itself.  Oh yes, I physically ache for "romance" and everything that comes with it, but once it's on my plate, I don't want it anymore. And it isn't about the adrenalin rush of the chase.  It isn't that I need that "new-ness."  It is that nothing is ever enough to make up for the way I was tormented by other kids on a daily basis when I was growing up. (And I wish them more ill for the pain they caused me than I dare admit.)
There it is. It sounds like a lame excuse, but I find I've spent the better part of my adult life trying to refill the hole they dug out within me... be it with men, women, sex, material things, substances. But, you can only hear such terrible things about yourself so many times before you start to believe them. Once that happens, no heartfelt compliment, gentle touch, hard fuck, high/buzz or shopping spree can ever soothe you. I might enjoy the moment of pleasure or satisfaction, but I always seem to ultimately need more. It is never enough, not even when it's too much.