It’s been awhile ...
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Life

So, it's been awhile since I've thrown down with a myspace blog, so now is as good a time as any.

Updates, spent most of the last two years of my life trying to recover from my big fuck-up "He who shall not be named" (btw Neva, that's a Harry Potter reference;)

I have had my uptimes, my down times, my drooling on the floor times. (My moaning on the floor times;)

The work I do sustains my soul, but sometimes I get to thinking that's all I've got within me that makes me good.

Let's just say this HAS NOT  been a banner year for Ms. Fancy-Pants (that would be me)

Actualizing ones fantasies, sexual or not, can be a very fufilling thing.

But something has happened. I can't feel my heart anymore. It is now like a conch shell.  You could blow right through me. A little girl in ponytails could yell "Hellllllllooooooo," and hear the echo. Hope it's not too late.

My passion (when it's productive) is housed inside of me, stagnant. It is  hypervigilant, casing every room, feeling out every scene. Being a chameleon comes very natural to me most times. It can come in handy. 

So, I am floating occassionally without thought or pain. Or finding a way to ensure I stay that way.

When I take my strong apple-core and get my shit together, I will no longer spend every moment seeking to be numb.

Happy Fall everyone!  snark snark

And now I know what she meant

Driving around with a bumper sticker that reads"I'd rather be dead than cool.'

I am "Cool girl"

The one that turns herself inside out, back again

Your friendly chameleon

A pupeteer of my own arms and legs, bobbing head and painted on expressions

Cold clammy skin, kissing the lipless

Except I am way to messy to be cool

Cool is uncomplicated, breezy

 I am uncomfortable breathing my own breath without chemicals

I numb myself, dumb myself down, the cowardly lizzard that puts out fires and attempts to control the anger inside

but you won't see that

Only the pillows on my bed know this, it has been this way for years

And everyone know pillows don't talk.

[	Tags	|	catterpillarboy nevafeva mitdasein kukla	]
[	Current Location	|	Cluster-fuck,Camarillo	]
[	Current Mood	|	bouncy	]
[	Current Music	|	Silence	]

Here are your rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to </a></b></a>maryrobinette(your tagees will post to mine, etc.) once you've posted your three sentences. 

Homeland, by Barbara Kingsolver

"Annemarie's side of the story is that she had to fight her way out of a family that smelled like an old folks' home."

"Her Father was devoted and funny, chasing her around the house after dinner, in white paper-napkin masks with eye-holes, and he could fix anything on wheels, and then without warning he turned into a wheezing old man with taut-skinned hands rattling a botttle of pills."

"Then he was dead, leaving behind a medicinal pall that hung over Annemarieand followed her to school."