Don't give in to weakness so easily, my fragile little doves. And sometimes all you need is to paint the room red with yourself and dance upside down in victory. You get no tears, no sympathy. I used to open myself up. I've got the scars up and down my limbs to prove it. I used to lap at each wound and let smears dry on my face, lips, and hands. I have to cannibalistic glint in my eye to prove that. How wonderfully horrible it is to not feel any pain and still be able to watch yourself spill out of your skin. Because eventually, you do grow numb, my pets. And the self-mutilation practiced for ages by numerous fuck-ups the world over loses its sparkle. Suddenly, that x-acto blade can't help you anymore. True, it will call to you every now and then, like any tool left unused. But your will has gotten stronger. Stream of consciousness like being hit on the highway by a tour bus.

My brain has yet to go back to its normal wave patterns. I still haven't written a response to this piece of tripe article for sociology. I can't read more than a paragraph at a time due to the chaos in my head. Just come down, Fyx. Point that analytical knife you call your brain in a worthy direction.

I was unwanted in a world that with my hands I helped to build

Flowing stream... ever onward.

Some of you should cut a little deeper and spare us your inane chatter. The rest of you... I pray wisdom somehow hits you as you mature into adulthood.

currently: hohum

Back to reality.

I have to write a stupid response to a article about "sociological imagination." I'm not even sure how long it should be. It's not even for a grade. Put it off as long as possible, but I know the instructor will blow a fuse if I don't give it to her. Ugh...

And I have a quiz tomorrow, which I should be studying for right now. =/ This is the class that I can't take notes in, remember? So, it's me and the book tonight.

As expected, sleep was bizarre yet plentiful. I have no idea how I'm going to go to sleep tonight, but I'll worry about that later. I do have to work at 6am, I know that much.

I only have one page left in my hard copy journal, and I haven't bought a new one yet! Oh, the horror!

Hmm... need to clean.

*sooo hungry. listening to "prison sex."*

*whines* why'd they have to put flying levels in Kingdom Hearts? I couldn't do flight sims to save my life.... I might have to look up a cheat if the courses get harder...

I think it's important that we not be afraid to expose the weaker sides of our selves every once in a while. coconut jelly belly.... nummy

This is a scary time, this delicate state of guilt and paranoia. And the loss of control is almost embarrassing, isn't it?

Why can't we not be sober?

Potatoes are calling me.

currently:

*listening to Apop*

MMmmm slept muches. Woke up to something nice. Writing in fragmented sentences. Disjointed. Jointed.... heh

It's a good thing I'm not the co-dependent type, that it is. I could very easily see myself becoming a drug addict to escape depression. But no, it's better I fight those things on my own. Makes me wise. *falls over laughing*

I think we should live in a matriarchal society and every woman over the age of 20 should be addressed as Mama. Yo, I'm Mama Fyx. And actual mothers should be addressed as Mommy. And crones should be Mothers. Yeah. And no one can make a decision until all the mothers and mommies have debated the pros and cons of all decisions. All the way into the village. Hey, that makes too much fucking sense--that's why we're in a patriarchal society. Nevermind that women are the actual ones thinking about the future. Nevermind they were designed to be deep thinkers by nature from, say, watching children all day. Wait wait... I'm dreaming of our cousin apes again. Heaven forbid we make ourselves look as savage and practical as an animal. I love animals. Little salt and some butter... Er... anyway, what was I writing?

I need to take a shower. My hair is shooting every direction and I feel like Edward Scissorhands. But more pink.

Oh, hello, Mr. Ice Cream Cone man. How are you today? *lick*

*red dragon tail comes sweeping in and smacks Fyx right in the back of the head* Don't play with your food.

._. But it's so yummy. It wants to play... look!
MMm Icey, I'm gonna lick you from tip to end. And once yer all wet, I'm gonna slide you over my tongue and lick away all your cream.

*stiff dragon tail jerks up* Umm... I have to go take care of something.

Me, too. *swallows*

Wow... munchies.

I once got caricaturized (is that even a word?) as John Lennon. Many years ago. By a guy with white bands and brown hair. On my sketchpad while in painting I. I think his name was Matt. I am running low on cigarettes, and the Beatles write much better than I do while intoxicated.

That sentence made little to no sense.

I should go check the oekaki boards. MMyep.

I wonder if we're going to do anything with Wolf Man while he's in town...? Or if he has planned something already. In any case, I can always stay in and hear stories. mMMm I like stories.

4am I watch you sleep
I pray to god your soul to keep
you're sound asleep but i feel pain
you're in my thoughts you're in my head again
i wonder what you dream when you dream
do you feel what i feel

Pikachu. Apoptygma Berzerk.

And that's all she wrote, folks.

currently: Enjoy the Music *listening to Depeche Mode and some other stuff*

I went to bed around 10:30 last night and just got up a few minutes ago.

My connection is absolute shit right now. I've d/ced about 6 times in five minutes.... OH YEAH! 31k, BABY! Fuck you, Earthlink. I will wash my hands of you soon!

And now, welcome to FUCT UP DREAM THEATER:

I'm not sure the order of the dreams or if they are in fact continuations of each other--but that's the feeling I got. Anyway...#1 involved an employee meeting at work in which we were watching a video about an upcoming alien invasion. Uh... sure. I clearly remember smacking around Drew. (Drew's the strange fucker that grabbed a VHS tape off a shelf at work one day and started spanking me like there was no tomorrow--over his knee and everything). Next, I was in some sort of ship and BB employees and aliens and other people were scurrying everywhere.

Next, I'm in the country. The landscape reminds me of my Grandmother's. Anyhoo, I climb a tree with my little brother (not sure how he got there). This trees friggin' huge. I'm looking out for aliens some distance away. And then, there's a tiger below us on the tree. A Bengal tiger, to be exact. uh... That's it for this dream.

#2 is somewhat normal, I guess. I'm on the computer with Rask. He's trying to tell me he has blue eyes, when I know he has brown. He even sends a pic somehow, saying he has baby blue eyes. Uhuh.

#3 actually was the first dream, but I can only remember a few seconds of it. It involved sex with someone on a Futon and was very graphic. Very. (but it wasn't an erotic dream, it was just one of uber-symbolic pieces of crap).

*getting a buzz*

#4 was apparently about a Winn Dixie grocery store. [side fact: There's only one of those left in town. There used to be 5 or 6] Every register had a line because it was extremely busy. That's all I recall.

END OF FUCT UP DREAM THEATER.

Have I ever written that I have all 5 senses in my dreams? Well, I do.

*tries to connect again*

Alright, I need to clean up the house. Well, my den, anyway. (I've been painting furniture, which means all my paint boxes and brushes and stuff are on the floor)

La la laaaaaavvvvvv *floaty*

I forgot to walk my mom's dog... nah, I didn't forget, I just slept through til TWO o'clock.

*blink blink blink* This CD sounds so nice. Nicey nicey. Intrumental and almost predatorial. Synthetic yet animal. Don't mind me... getting analytical high. Aww it ended.

I hope I put something German in the cd player next. Deutsh ist sehr gut, ja? German is very good, that it is. I should pick up that German software I bought over a year ago and see if I remember any German from high school. (besides the naughty words.)

Murr! PLeasE be something German?

Drat... Tori.

As much as I love 'er... I gotta have some industrial bass right now. *Tori running through a field waving the From the Choirgirl Hotel cd, trying to flag me down* Uh... No, that doesn't count.

*goes away, plays with cd collection, comes back, and realizes this is Japanese and not German* Ahhhh... screw it.

Holy shite on a christmas trisquit! The end theme of Cowboy Bebop. ~_~ YEA!

What?

Christmas Trisquit? Where the hell did I come up with that. My head is the waste-basket of bad writers everywhere! NOOOO! *a thousand paperwads come hurling in, and suddenly I feel like I'm in a bottom-of-the-barrel low budget Phantasm movie*

I wish I had a hearse.

Oooh.

I don't have anything else to write at the moment... And I've been writing on and off for almost an hour. My connection has gone splat about 30 times. I'm hungry. ^^