hey.

i'm sorry i've been shitty this month.  i went back and read my blog, and felt super sorry for everyone who had to read my shit.

"you're drunk right now."

You're drunk right now!

no...wait, no, you're right.  it's me...i'm drunk right now.  sorry about that.

yeah.  i know i had the bad liver shit, and the "let's try tea instead!" stuff.  i did that, but this last week before christmas has been horrible for my brain, so i went back to drinking, because vodka is the friend that never tells you you're too fucked up to write a blog post.  basically, it's the friend you wish your other friends could be, and that's probably why it's a bad idea to become alcoholic, and also, similarly, why i'm kind of glad i never grew up knowing people who sold heroin, because that sounds like the kind of friend who hugs you until you die.

deep breath.

sorry for getting weird (again) (always).

and sorry, for realsies, for being depressing and useless and junky all month.

i hate when my brain is like this, and i wish i could fix it, but almost everything sets me off in the wrong way.

sorry for that too.

sorry for being sorry all the time.

sorry that that is something i have to say.

here's the thing, ok?

i have problems.  a lot of problems.  you can't fix them, you probably can't help, unless you're one of like three people.  four people.  i do know real people in real life.  four.

i know i'm shitty at life.  i know that we'd all be happier if we could all look at my corpse as a lesson for other people.  i know that at least four people would be horrified and sad of that thought.

so.  i'm trying to keep me alive for you, for them, for me.  too.  i guess.

i hate being this mess, and i hate that i force other people to deal with my shit.  that's not fair, because everyone has to live their own life, and they all have to deal with shit that's probably far worse than i do.

i'm a pretty, pretty, princess who never fucking grew up to accept that no one cares what you do when you get old and fat.

sorry.  sorry for being sorry.  sorry for making you think you need to comment about how i'm not so shit as i think i am.  i'm a jerk for fooling you into making such a lie.

i'm just so sorry for everyone.

sorry.

obligatory "going away" post

going away for new years.  probably won't update or read email or post tumblrs or do anything.

the same joke i always make about maybe my plane exploding and killing me.

i had work today, because i thought that if i took as little vacation now, i could save up my days and take a trip to japan next year.  also: it's super depressing being the only person at work because everyone else has families and friends to hang out with.

but i saw my boss, and he was all like "you're doing great, and i hope you have a great time off, and maybe we'll see about getting you a raise or something like that.  you know, for being cool."

and all i could think about was "i just want to slash my wrists right now because of that."

"whoa, sammy, that's kind of fucked up.  how do you get 'suicidal' from 'here's a fucking compliment'?" you ask?

i really don't know.  i think that the part of me that just wants to die and be dead and not have to deal with shit ever again gets frustrated when people are like, "i don't hate you."  it'd be so much easier if everyone did hate me, so i could just go away and make everyone happy.

i think i probably need to go back to therapy some more.  but that involves playing the tricky game of "i think i'm suicidal, but i want you to think i'm not that suicidal, because you'd have to call the cops or something, and i need to get back to work in an hour."

:-/

i do want to thank everyone for the kind words in comments and emails.  i know listening to somebody ramble on about stupid shit isn't fun.  i know you'd probably like to read new stories, and i do have a new idea of a chapter.  i know it feels like i post these things to kind of vampire leech good feelings.

i'm sorry for being so lame all the time.  maybe i can get help next year and get my brain sorted out again.

buzzfeed violet

"Short, relatable videos that are totally you."


STOP READING MY BRAIN< JERKS!

tl;dr

Don't let them in, don't let them see

Be the good girl you always have to be

Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know

like....all this shit, right?

i hate holidays.

when i was little, it wasn't so bad.  i'd make impossible stupid lists of shit that i wanted for christmas, i'd get a tenth of that, some clothes, some books, and some candy or something, and it'd all work out ok, because when you're a kid, candy and a doll can make any day the best day ever.

then, slowly, it kind of all seemed to rot.  i could hear my parents talking, so i made my list shorter, and filtered out things that seemed too expensive.  i tried to ask for things that didn't just look cool, but that seemed like they'd be fun to play with (so no more rock tumbler, because it turns out you can't just glue them to string and make a necklace).

[i maybe have told this story, but whatever, it's the time of year everyone listens to stupid shit songs they've heard since they were 4.  i get to repeat occasionally if i want to.]

when i was in middle school, i think, we had gotten to the end of christmas, and had our regular ham for lunch, and my grandparents were going to go home.  bachan was getting her purse and everything ready, and it hit me.   she'd gotten one gift.  i had this pile of junk that i thought was important, and she had a tiny bottle of perfume.

christ.  i wish i knew what it was.  she always put on the same scent when she thought she was going out to someplace fancy.  like a movie.  or dinner at a restaurant.  like, shit that you and i would be like, "well, i guess maybe i should put on pants to go there."  she'd break out the makeup and perfume, and i can kind of force my brain to pretend it can smell it, but i know it's not right.  and now i'm crying again.

but i had a pile of shit, and she was happy with one thing and some ham.  all i could think was, "what the fuck is wrong with me that i would think this is fair?"

and now, i'm all grown up and shit.  bachan isn't here anymore, and she'd probably tell me i was dumb for saying stuff like this now.  or she'd be distracted like she was for the last few years.  fuckgin.  why can't i free associate stuff like this when i have a therapist to talk to?

but i'm skipping the family get together this year.  i've claimed "i've got stuff to do for work," and "my boss is a jerk," but that's not true.  that's not at all true.  the real reason is that i'm uncomfrotable with them.  there's the usual social anxiety that probably isn't how you're supposed to feel around your family.  then there's the like...success guilt?

is that a thing?

i mean, if i were to go home and see them, and eat ham and do all the stuff, i'd be sitting there knowing that i make more money than everyone else there.  combined.  how can i possibly make it right and make sure they're not going home with one thing?  i already don't visit much, so when i do, i get fruits and books, and "oh, sammy, you like this, right?" things.  so that on top of, "here, sammy, have this!"

i'm sure you're all like, "damnit, sammy, they're your family.  they're not going to be counting items and summing receipts."  i don't care.  i can do it.  fuck "can."  "automatically do it because my brain is a fucking asshole who can't keep out of shit."  this is worse, i think.  i can come up with far more scenarios in which i annoy people than they can possibly reassure me about.

ok, i'm losing ttrack of the thread here.  holidays.  i'm breaking from the usual stress, and that's a new level of guilt-stress.

and i'm doing new years with my friend i went to visit for thanksgiving.  she was doing well, but then economy and jobs and now i guess her husband is unemployed?  so.  i guess i'll be playing legos with her 2-year old.  at least her demands are simple.  "daniel tiger!"  "LET IT GO!"

sigh.  why can't everyone just be like, "let's watch daniel tiger and then frozen songs on loop for three hours?"  i wouldn't be the crazy mess i am, i bet.  i'd be in a nice relationship, where we'd both get home from work, look at each other, and just be like, "Chocolate!"

and i guess this song is actually by wham?  i've only heard that one and another two jpop covers, so i never knew before now.

"you're drifting again, sammy"

ok, let's close up this rambley mess.  i'm unhappy.  the world sucks, and people murder and steal from other people all the time, for no other reason than they can't accept that everyone deserves the same treatment and life.  there's nothing i can do about this.  there's also nothing i can do about the fact that i'm terrified of everyone i meet, because my stupid brain can't ever forget anything that happens, and i assume other people remember those stupid embarassing things i say and do all the time.  i don't think this will ever get better, and i'm afraid it'll just grow until i get to the point where i can't cope with the echoing madness of long forgotten events and slice myself open in the tub.

so...

um...

i hope you have happy holidays?  i'll probably be back for a drunken christmas eve thing, and then not again until after the new year.  sorry.

sorry for everything.

sorry for not writing faster than i do.

sorry for being weird over email.

sorry for being weird in general.

i know you probably don't hate me, because you wouldn't be here reading this if you did.

i'm sorry that i'm sorry about that.

i just hate everything so much.

wake up.  stay in bed as long as possible.  go to work.  solve stupid problems for what is more money than i really need to survive, but also not enough for me to actually be happy solving those stupid problems.  go to store.  buy stupid junky food that has a 50/50 chance of either getting eaten or left to rot in my fridge.  go home.  hate all the shitty food i just bought, eat a thing of frozen mac and cheese instead.  watch stupid tv all evening while reading crap on the internet that maybe was once fun, but now just seems like a boring trudge to keep up.  go to bed and instead of sleeping (since that doesn't work anymore), watch youtube videos as i feel the springs of the mattress i just bought a year ago for like $1200 slowly stabbing me in the back until my eyes water from yawns and i put my computer away to try and pass out.

i'm supposed to do this for another like forty something years?

why?

what's the point?  what do i get out of this shit?

so i guess today is a bad day

i want to cuddle up under a billion blankets, and then slice my forearm until it's just basically hamburger.

thanks brain.  you always know how to make my normal not sleeping into a hellish nightmare.

why don't you take this opportunity to just go fuck yourself in the face forever.

jerk.

does anyone else?

just get drunk...

oh.

yeah.

so i did like a month of sober, and then when my doctor was all "yay!  better liver!"

decided that if i just drink on weekends, maybe that's ok too?  right?

listen, judgy mcjudgersons out there.  i have a life i'm really not happy living, and sometimes drinking a bunch of vodka seems like a good idea.  yes it'll probably kill me, but at least when i die i'll be so drunk it won't matter.

or so i hope.

but i am trying to be healthier, and all that jazz, and it wasn't like i had to get a drink, i just didn't see why i couldn't have a drink.

that sounds like i'm a super-drunk.  just... can we agree it's not as bad as it could be?  i'll try to not kill myself everyday, and you all come back with, "we don't want to stab you in the eyes, sammy!"

that's really all i'm asking for.  not getting stabbed in the eyes.


anyway...(roll your eyes here for best effect)

you think of something, and then go to amazon to add it to your cart.  and then your cart comes up "you have $170 in shit in your cart".

there's no way you're buying that much, right?

click click click "oh, what?  shipping is $20?  what's free shipping cost?" $19.44.  "what?  why?" because you're buying shit through the marketplace because it's $210 cheaper, sammy, and the marketplace is where original producers (who you're buying from) and cheap jackass hacks (who jack up their shipping so they can sell you a $0.01 book) live.  relax, sammy, it's still cheapest.


drunk sammy still gets imaginary annie in her brain.  that totally read, "relax, pet," when i first wrote it.


i'm not sure having fantasy people write my blog is a good thing.

so.

does anyone else just feel sorry about everything, and hope everyone they know can just forgive them?

uuuugugughghhhhh

my nose is so stuffy and runny.  i hate being sick.  i just want to unplug my head, put it someplace where i don't have to deal with it while it's so gross, and then curl up under a blanket until everything is better.

:(

and it turns out that all the drugs i have for "being sick" have done basically nothing to fix anything.  stupid useless junk!

a bunch of sammy thoughts, so feel free to skip this one and wait for new porn

or, even better: you can look at lots of porn if you click to my tumblr.  that's largely where i'm looking at my porn now, because it's like a never ending river of porn that you can wade into, and let the porn wash over and around you.

thought 1: if you're afraid to go to work everyday, you should probably quit.  if you turn that fear into a motivator to use a gun to shoot people just because they don't listen to you, you should go to jail.  if you shoot people who actually are listening to you, you should double go to jail.  most people aren't criminals, so it doesn't make sense to assume they all are.  especially if that assumption is just because they're not the same race as you.  i'm glad i live someplace where the cops don't seem to be awful people most of the time.  it'd be great if they'd learn that homeless people are still people, but at least in those cases they still seem to just harass them into moving.  nobody ends up dead.

thought 2: remember last month when we had a hurricane, and i realized that homeless people are still people, and i could do more to help them than "nothing"?  i saw the newspaper guy over the weekend, and was able to get my window down and give him that $10 i had saved for him.  i'll admit that his hand touched mine when i handed him the money, and i held that hand all weird until i could get home and wash it clean.  i'm admitting that because i do the same thing when the cashier at safeway touches me handing me the receipt, when i have to touch the gas pump, and even when my doctor is like "yay! let's shake hands because that's fun!"  my brain is weird, and i don't like touching people because that makes me uncomfortable.

thought 3: on the doctor subject, i went back to the doctors to see if my knees actually suck, or if they're just grumpy for some reason.  it seems like the answer is "grumpy," with the suggestion that "diet and exercise can help things like this."  thanks for calling me fat, doctor knees.  in any case, i had to do more vampire tests, and they did another liver test since it was junky last time.  switching to tea instead of vodka at bedtime worked, i guess.  i should probably stick with tea to be healthy.  lame.

thought 4: i leave for a vacation tomorrow, so probably nothing much here for the next week.  also probably not much on that tumblr i mentioned once the queue dries up.  so basically no porn from me.  i think i used this before, but if you see news of a plane crash to or from honolulu and i don't ever post again, then i was on that plane and ker-sploded.  sorry i never finished those stories!

:)

yay! more impending depression!

i probably should have realized when writing stopped being fun that it was probably a sign of a depression attack.  that's not the right word, but whatever.  things have been ok-ish all week, and then today it just seemed like nothing was right, and everything was junky, and nothing was good.

i think a large chunk of this is holiday related stuff.  i hate the holidays, and i probably always will.  stupid consumerism, stupid fake caring about people that get ignored every other stupid day of the year, stupid telling people that you like them for one day, so here's a gift everyone feels obligated to give.  grump.

i do like christmas tree smell, and some of the music.  my apartment lobby always gets a tree, and i sometimes sit there and smell it for as long as i can before i feel awkward sitting reading junk mail.

but anyway, holidays always make me super aware of my social anxiety, so i'm doing the smart thing, and flying to visit friends for thanskgiving.  wait, that's not the right word.  in any case, it will hopefully not be too bad, and i'll get to see people that i can mostly deal with in real life.

until i get back, and then maybe even until new years, i'm probably just going to be lazy, and not try to get new stuff written.  i'm pretty sure if i tried to force the next part, i'd just end up hating it.


probably not nearly as much as i hate this brain roller coaster, though.

this was going to be combined with that museum thing from earlier, but i didn't, so now it's a different thing.

first thing:  drinking tea to go to sleep is not the same as drinking vodka.  first difference: you don't cough as much drinking tea.  second difference: all the teas taste different, even when you restrict yourself to variations of green tea with honey.  third difference: i don't get snacky hungry as much at night.  fourth difference: i wake up at the time when the sun is like "Hey!  Let's be friends!"  no, sun.  i don't want to be your friend, because it's like ass oclock in the morning.  fifth difference: i may be a bit grumpier than before.  sixth difference: not drinking for 11 days feels pretty much the same as not drinking for 1 day.  or drinking for 11 days.  i guess i'm saying this one isn't much of a difference.


second thing: i'm a bit burned out on writing.  i've tried to work on three different stories, and i've put together about one sentence total.  i think i'm just going to take a break and try again after thanksgiving.  one main issue is that i just don't know where i want to go with "exhibition."  do i want to do more romantic stuff?  do i want to skip that and push back to weird torture-y bondage stuff?  can i figure out a way to mush them together and do both?  all the other big multipart stories i read seem like they have a plan and an running theme that they're working towards.  i just slap my fingers at the keyboard and churn out whatever my brain comes up with that day, without any concern about how to tie it to the future.


third thing: i think if someone sends me two emails in 24 hours, the second of which is "you didn't respond, so i'm going to say the same things again, pointing out how you didn't respond the first time," i'm either going to ignore that person forever, or i'll wait for the inevitable third email and then point out that i thought they were kind of a creeper way back at the first email, but i wanted to be polite and not bring that up.  also, if you're that guy, i'm totally talking about you right now.

my local museum is cooler than your local museum.

because my local museum is having a show titled "modern love: 20th century japanese erotic art".  that picture is totally one from their webpage.

it looks like it opens this weekend, and runs until mid-march, so i have lots of time to stop by.  that also gives me lots of time to spread when i decide to visit out, so i don't have to worry about someone seeing me there and being all, "hey, aren't you sammy from the internet?"

ugh.

so the people who send story feedback and seem interesting never respond.

the ones who are like, "hey, i'm your internet bf now," never stop responding.

and has anyone in the history of ever ever been impressed with "you should google me"?  no.  the answer is no.

grumble.  now i remember why i started drinking.

i hate writing story teasers

i'm trying to get things submitted to stories online, but i have to put together descriptions, and i hate everything i put in there.

"it's a story.  i think it's good.  i'd tell you more, but that'd ruin the story, i think.  it probably has something to do with the word in the title.  just saying."

:-/

The Exhibition: Food

The Exhibition: Food
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-exhibition-food.html

read "food" first.

you know the drill by now

random days off are great.

because it's like a free sunday, except instead of going to sleep knowing you have to wake up on a crappy monday, it's an indifferent wednesday.  yay!

story stuff: i looked into stories online, and sent in my test story to see if i could figure out how it works.  it's way more complicated than the other ones, with a lot of extra clicks and what not.  i screwed up the first time, and submitted it as a "continuing" instead of "one part" story.  one cool thing that i'll have to play with is that it looks like i can define a series for "exhibition," and then submit the parts as stories in that series.  that might make it easier to organize things into the right order there.

i'm also mostly done with "food."  i need to decide on the ending i want, and do my proof on that.  if i'm less lazy than usual, it'll be up this evening.  i have one more part in my head, but that's likely to be the end of "exhibition" until i think up new things.  that will give me a chance to try to get more done one "spa treatment," which i've ignored for like four months now.

finally, it looks like bdsmlibrary updated again, although not with the stuff i sent them in august.  the forum says they had "hackers" and "blah blah bullshit i don't care about," but that they're fixing that and trying to get things up and running again.  i'm going to hold off on sending stuff to them until they get a few more regular updates going, i think.

depressing stuff:  it turns out that stopping drinking isn't lots of fun.  the biggest problem is that i've apparently forgotten how to go to sleep.  i drink my tea, i watch my youtube videos, i feel the "ok, it's sleepy time, i guess," and then i curl up and nothing happens.  for like two to three hours.  not a lot of fun.

then, as a double bonus, when i do get to sleep, i have nightmares again.  yay.  nothing more fun than making friends with people, and then watching them all fall to their deaths at the same time.  so that makes it hard to stay asleep when i do get there.  which also is not a lot of fun.

however, other than "sleeping sucks now," this doesn't seem like that hard of a thing to do.  so, maybe sammy isn't really an alcoholic, just a habitual drunk.  yay?  plus, maybe i'll lose weight or something?  whatever.  sorry for getting weird.

again.

still.

three comics

they're all about scat, so.  you know.  you might not like them.

• Eriko's Perpetual Motion
• Junko's Extracurricular Excretion Activities
• Nasty Maid Cafe+ ~Their Day Off~ 

so maybe sitting around all day looking at porn isn't the most productive thing

like forever ago, i posted this thing, which is by sumomo dou.

and then today i read all the stuff that's in english, and some of the stuff that isn't.

this is a good one, without as much of the weirder grosser stuff that shows up a lot.

The Exhibition: Glass

The Exhibition: Glass
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-exhibition-glass.html

read "glass" first.

notes and things.

ok. what?

bedside luxury is almost three years old?

how is that even possible?

well. huh. shit.

so i had a doctor appointment today.

and like always, the doctor was all, "let's steal your blood for funsies!"

and medicine.  whatever.  doctors are bad vampires.

and then she called me up.  "so, your labs are back.  did you know you have shitty liver function?"

"no?"

"so...if you drink, maybe don't drink for three weeks, and we'll check it again?"

"yeah...sure...no drinking.  sure.  ok."


to be honest, my life is basically a never ending cycle of "wake up because your phone told you to stop sleeping", "go to work and struggle against a non-stop avalanche of horrible tasks", "go home, and try to not starve yourself to death, you fucking fattie," and then "drink yourself to sleep while you watch stupid youtube videos."

i slot in "read the porn to masturbate to, and write porn for other people to masturbate to" when i can.

so.

this sucks.

i'm trying to think of things to drink while i watch youtube videos, because i don't think i can just not drink and watch youtube videos.  tea?  is that a thing?  does anyone think that would work?


"oh, sammy! i didn't know your brain was still fucked up and you were still drinking a lot to cover up a lot of anxiety that doesn't often surface when you hide behind double locked doors!"

we all knew.  don't pretend, ok?

OMG!

they're all named after islands!

i have no clue why this is important, and everyone is reading this and is all "WTF?"  but i don't care, because this suddenly hit me.  

everyone except one, i think.

they're all islands.

fucking...

how did i not notice that until now?

i'm now more scared that i want to give everyone in a fictional story hugs now.

my brain is grumpy today

just.  all the grumps.

i hate these days.  i hate when i let external shit fuck with me to the point where i hate everything.

like people with loud cars, or stereos, or mopeds.  just this "whump whump whump" or "bzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzt" all evening.  i don't know why that's such a hard trigger, but it is.  i just hear this angry growl, and want to not hear it anymore.


today was a day i needed to cry.  i sat down, readied myself for the crying, and then turned the channel and watched a show about sloths.

did you know they only go down to the ground to poop?  imagine being all, "well, the ground is so down there...i'll just keep this poop for tomorrow, i guess."  sloths are kind of cool when you learn more about them.

but yeah.  i wish i could channel the tears when i want them.  i think that would help me fight stress more than i do now.

i just want a good ugly cry. :(

no new story today

i got about a paragraph written after trying all day.

part of it is that i'm just so unhappy that so much of the country is dumb and voted for bully jerks.

hawaii didn't.  i think everyone i voted for is winning.  so, at least i get to live in one of the few places that doesn't suck.

:(

hey, everybody!

so i think i'm pretty close to getting "glass" finally finished.  the main text is about 80% done, and so i hope i can finish it tomorrow, and then do my re-read/re-write tomorrow evening, and get it out to everyone.

which will be great, because then i can finally submit everything to literotica, and have everyone there tell me how much i suck at writing.

honestly, that's not a big part of things.  i suspect anyone who responds on literotica is only doing so because they read the whole thing, and liked it, and all that.

does anyone know what's up with bdsmlibrary?  it seems like more people read that (based on my view counts), but it updates like it's drunk and stoned, and possibly serving 5-10 in the state jail.  i'm really looking for other places to post if people know of them.


and tomorrow's a vacation day for me, because hawaii is probably cooler than your state.  sorry.  we're just generally not run by morons.



final note:  i really feel my depression acting up again.  i spent more of today wishing i could stab myself than usual.  i don't know why, i don't understand the reasons, i just know what the feelings are.  i'll fight back as much as i can, but i just wanted everyone to know that i might be lame with email for a bit.

sorry.  i can tell i careen back and forth between crazy depressed and crazy manic.  i think i've dealt with enough that the first isn't so suicidal anymore.  i wish the second wasn't so draining that i could do that for a bit without immediately dropping into a puddle that only wants blankets and pillows.


thanks again to everyone who comments for being super cool and being ok with me sometimes just freaking out.  i do what i can when i can, and you understanding when i can't post is great.  this is why i love each of you in our own special way.

maybe you disagree, but whatever, it's my blog.

elections are this week.  so you should probably go vote.

however, if you're thinking, "yes, sammy, i agree.  i'm voting republican!" then, ok, see?

you can go fuck yourself, right?  which party has spent years being all "if we let gay people marry, then everyone will get divorces to go get gay married instead of having babies"?  i mean, that doesn't even make sense, but that's what they've been saying.

so.  hey.  if you vote for republicans (at all, in any race, anywhere), then you're dumb, and i don't want to be friends with you.  stop reading my blog, and go away forever, ok?

if you are voting for democrats this year, then good news!  hawaii makes election day a holiday, so i'll have an extra day to write more stuff!  woo!  more fun porn for kinky progressives! :)

question:

do people have to do address typing things to post comments here?  i don't, but i own the thing, so maybe i'm special?

do other people have to do that, though?

and i finally have an outline i like for "glass" done.  i'm going to try to get it out this weekend, and then submit glass/exercise/hanging to literotica.

then we'll do food.  that's chronologically last in the series, and does a big change to things.

i'm concerned i might break things at that point, but we'll see what my brain comes up with.  i keep thinking about "ice" as the next story, but other than the title, i'm kind of stuck.  "no, ouch." "no, dumb." "no, gross."

what else starts with i?

igloo.

dear sammy,
this is why we're not friends a lot of the time.
love,
sammy

we'll see.

sammy can't sleep, so it's stupid question time.

1. do i like garbanzo beans?  i don't generally like beans.  they're mushy and gross.  but i bought this frozen dinner thing, and was like "oh cool! shepherd's pie!"  it was delicious in london.  but it's "amy's." and amy hates fun, so everything's vegetarian.  i know this.  why did i buy it in the first place?  so, it's all a lie, and i'm afraid to eat it, because i don't know if i like garbanzo beans.  ok. even i admit this is stupid at this point.  let's have it for dinner tomorrow and stop being dumb.
2. when you have a super spicy lunch, and then you poop, but your poop is all super firey and it hurts.  that sucks, and i get it way more than i think is fair.
3. why is it when you buy chips, sometimes they're super flavored, and sometimes they're just like "hint of flavor"?  i got the onion sunchips.  but this batch is like "oh, yeah, we've met onion.  didn't like her."  wtf, sunchips?  i want that angry gross taste so tomorrow morning i can hate myself from the night before.

The Exhibition: Hanging

The Exhibition: Hanging
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-exhibition-hanging.html

again, read "Hanging" before reading this.

this is the notes and comments post.

blah.

i already have a new chapter almost ready to go.  i want to edit it first, and do my usual fixes to make my first drafts not sound do dumb.  second drafts.  whatever.

it's almost halloween themed, in that it's not at all halloween themed, but i kill somebody in the story.  so.  suspenseful.

lastly, the news email magazine thing that i get in the email told me that the hawaii film festival is coming up, so i clicked on it, and looked around to see what's playing.  um,  "The Torture Club":

Yuzuki Muto has been accepted to the prestigious private girls’ high school, St. Anesty Academy, that she never dreamed of attending. One spring day — with cherry blossoms in full bloom — she attends the entrance ceremony with high hopes and expectations… only soon to find herself getting “escorted” by two students to a basement room used by the school-approved Torture Club, where they practice and master the art of torture. With her hands and feet bound together, Yuzuki is coerced to join the club. Suddenly another Torture Club member appears, Aoi Funaki, a stunningly beautiful upperclassman who Yuzuki fell in love with at first sight on the day of her entrance exam. As Yuzuki’s rigorous training begins, her affections for Aoi grow ever stronger, despite the hard and fast “no romance” rule in the Torture Club.

thanks, japan. i kind of really want to see this, but i also kind of really don't want to see it in a movie theater with a giant bunch of strangers.  especially since it wouldn't be over until like 11pm, and if i remember correctly, dole cannery has a kind of creepy parking garage.  super stranger danger.

hopefully they'll do a dvd release for it, i guess.

The Exhibition: Exercise

The Exhibition: Exercise
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-exhibition-exercise.html

don't read this until you read the story.

i'm posting this one first so it shows up after the story on the blog.  read that first.  these are the notes for the story.

yes, i am intentionally writing stories in some sort of alphabetical order.

i had exhibition: e and g plotted out.

then i woke up this morning, and didn't feel like getting up, so i just laid in bed for an hour.

so now there's f and h planned.

i really need to sit down and just do some writing every day.  five minutes or so even.  just to get things done.

i'm unhappy, i'm going to tell you why, and you're going to tell me that it's dumb to be angry at something 142 years old.

i saw a thing about vampires this week, and remembered there was a story "Carmilla" that sounded interesting.  so i read it.

first half of the story: super gay.  this may in fact be the most gay thing i've ever read, and i've read my own stories.  carmilla and laura are totally getting married, and it's wonderful.  sure, you know she's a vampire, because duh, she's obviously a vampire, but whatever.  everybody has something wrong with them.

second half of the story: some other dude comes in and retells the first part of the story from when carmilla totally visited him and his daughter fell in love with her.  but he knows how it works out, and let's just say his daughter didn't make it through all "alive" and stuff.  fine.  it's kind of boring reading the short version of the story we totally just read, though.

third...last part of the story: bing bang boom, the dudes kill carmilla in her grave, and don't tell laura anything, so even though she's the narrator of the whole thing, she let's us know at the end that she had to read this in the official like "vampire police" report.

but it's a massive shame that after building up a great beginning, with a nice style and vague impending doom thing, it ends all "and then we killed her and went out and had tacos to celebrate."  it's just ruined.

plus, there's carmilla's "mom," who's all "i'm super mysterious, but when i return to pick up my daughter in three weeks, you'll totally remember who i am."  but SHE NEVER COMES BACK!  just gone.  you killed carmilla, so now you don't get to know who she is.

and it's stupid.   because my "oh, i bet this is the twist" is so much better than just "LOL< NOPE!"

we get the most introduction to the mom in the other dude's story, and he relates that carmilla is actually related to his dead wife.  so make the mom his stupid dead wife!  she's wearing a mask when they meet at a party, and she's all "we know each other well, and i know all these details about you, blah blah blah."

so, years ago, when his wife died, she didn't really die, she was just killed by carmilla.  she came back, found her descendant, vampire-ized her, and then they went off to run this "babysit my vampire-daughter-who's-really-my-super-great-aunt-or-something" scheme.  then, the reveal when she comes back and uncovers her face and is all, "IN YOUR FACE, LIVING DUDES!" would be so. perfect.

plus, it'd be closer to actual horror than "visiting guests might turn your daughter into a lesbian.  or suck out her life.  one or the other, and since this is 1872, we're kind of scared of both."

huh. well that sucks.

so sirjeff of ponygirl fame is closing up.

i guess it isn't so crazy.  i mean, i've been reading his page since before i could honestly click the "enter" link.

it was a big thing on my journey to the weirdo i am today.  "huh.  you can pretend people are animals."

not that horses were big with me.  i knew a girl who once got detention because she kept drawing horses all the time.  like, "fuck this test, i'm going to draw a sweet ass pony!" kind of all the time.

i didn't understand that.  ponies are stupid ugly things, not like cute lap-pets.

dogs, cats, bunnies, small other things that you can put on your lap and pretend are just different kinds of rats.

those were my things, but i didn't really get the whatever until seeing the ponies.

that prepped me for the day i saw Mr Veterinarian's works, and it all kind of clicked together.

ramble ramble ramble, i'm just saying that i'm sad that this bit of my early kink is retiring.

things that aren't fun

falling out of bed, thinking it's fine, and then waking up the next day to discover that your thigh has a giant blue patch, your elbow hurts when you bend it, and that it looks like someone tried to stab you in the shoulder.

i am bad at life.

:(

number of people i've completely alienated via email in the past week: 2.

that's also the number of homeless people i saw today that i really should have given money to.  i mean, we had a hurricane go by, and i stayed inside and read tumblr and ate pizza.  those guys had to huddle someplace so they didn't get drenched.  the first one i just walked past, and it didn't hit me until i was driving home that he could probably use money more than i could.  i mean, i stopped at the grocery store on the way home to buy new conditioner because apparently purple is the color i like, not red, because red makes my hair smell like acid all day.  so the red bottle is going in the trash, just like those junky shells.  the second one was at an intersection, and he had a sign like "$1.50 each" and he had a pile of newspapers.  i was already feeling guilty, and so i reached down to get my wallet, and he walked past, and i should have rolled the window down, but i pulled out a ten, and was looking in the mirror for him to come back, and then the light changed, and i was in front, so i had to go, and i'm thinking to myself, "well, maybe i'll see another homeless guy on the way home," and then i pulled onto h-1, and continued, "you know, like you see on the highway."

:(

i mean, i didn't even want a paper, because who reads newspapers?  so now that ten sits in my armrest box doodle, but i'm ok telling you that, because you're probably not going to break into my car and steal it.  it's for homeless people when i see them, ok?

and i made such great plans a few weeks ago to stop being a fuckup.  i didn't do any of that stuff i said i was going to do, but i did at least change my sheets today.  clean sheets are so much better, so it sucks when i can't convince my brain to wash them and change them.  the trick i used today was "we need clothes to wear to work tomorrow, so just throw the sheets in with them as well.  duh."

then i was going to sit down and write something, but instead i just reread part two of spa treatment, because that's closer to the porn that i was looking at at the time.

blah.

i think i might take a day off this week as a sick day.

so...

i caught the japanese version of let it go on the j-pop station yesterday.

it turns out it's really hard to sing the english version when you have to match the japanese rhythm.  it's just slightly off in some way, so it's super hard to do it.

what's even more hard?

driving while crying because it got to the "here I stand, and here I'll stay!" part, and that's when you usually start crying, so your eyes are all like, "oh, tear time!  woo!"

it'd be great if i didn't just randomly cry every day.  heaven knows i've tried.

i super hate

trying to not be lame on online dating sites.

because i always fuck up and look super lame.

:(

forever, just :(

Fucking fuck.

i just discovered that the tasty looking frozen stuffed shells that i JUST FUCKING BOUGHT are stuffed with broccoli, and not spinach like i thought.

broccoli is fucking disgusting.

i was super looking forward to them, and now they get to go live in the garbage.  forever.

like everything that's made with broccoli.

five years

so....this song has been stuck in my head for a while now.

being kind of queer, i did not throw up at all.

but like

there's this feeling, that unless people stop being fucking stupid, in like five years, we'll be all "oh. oops.  sorry.  there's like five years to go.  we killed everything, and poisoned everything else.  we're just not good at doing things."

and earlier tonight i had this "you know what, i bet if you were like god, you could be everywhere, and find all those jackasses who post dumb shit, and you could be all 'oh.  i should eat a dick because i think people should get married to who they want to?  have you ever imagined how you'd feel if you couldn't marry who you wanted to?  that if people found out, you'd be killed to make other people feel better? no?  ok, i'm god now, so let's be omnipotent and make you experience this horror for realsies.'"

it is good that sammy does not have omnipotence.  unless i had the omnipresence, i'd pretty much just be a dick to one dude at a time.


anyway, what is this, what are you talking about sammy?


i don't know.  random shit.  mushing a bunch of news stories together into that nasty play-doh mess that was all the colors stuck together that no one wants to touch.

because gross.


sorry.  just had to be random for a bit.

hey there, the internet people!

so shit's been shitty recently.  i did a birthday thing last month, and ate a piece of cake and some fermented pineapple for dinner.

because i'm cool like that, and sometimes you can't deal with life, and so you panic and have to eat what you have in your fridge because you don't trust yourself to go out to the store and buy food.

this is where being crazy depressed hurts a lot, i think.  when i was a kid, we'd always do the family dinner things, and i got used to that kind of thing, and then when i grew up, it just got...lonely.

honestly, the number of times i've had to quickly park my car because i started crying when i didn't know what i wanted to do for dinner.  earlier last month, i went to my favorite ramen place.  then, panicking the next day, i went there again, because my brain couldn't remember any other food.

so yeah.  my brain is all sorts of fucked up right now.  i know i need to go find a new therapist, and see about getting back on drugs.  i have some leftovers, but i'm a bit wary about just being all "fuck it, let's be our own doctor!"  i think i could.  i should count and see how many i have.  i think i did a refill before i quit, so there's at least three months worth.

but since we can't have robot therapists, they end up being people.  and dealing with people is the hardest thing i have to deal with each day.

"whoa, whoa, whoa, sammy! we're people!"  you say.

no, you're internet people.  you live on the internet, where everyone looks super cute, or like a cat or something, or maybe bender from futurama.  some of you are objects, i guess.  the point is:

i don't interact with you the same way.  i can write crazy shit here, and post it, and then sober up the next day and pull it down.  or leave it up, and hope no one comments, and then when people do (including people who are just super wonderful about everything), i can trick my email to skip that message so i don't have to read what they said until i'm ready for it.

basically: i can deal with you on my terms, without having the constant panic attacks that happen in real life.

i know this isn't healthy, and i need to work on it.  so i'm going to see if i can make october a "try to work on it, ok?" month.

my plans?

1. this weekend, i  will take out the piles of trash in my kitchen.
1. if possible, i will also put dishes into the dishwasher, and make them clean.
2. i have started the plan of "dear sammy, you can buy frozen dinners and eat them.  some of them aren't horribly unhealthy, so you might even lose weight!  in any case, keep three or more dinners in the freezer so you have something to eat, even when you don't feel like eating or like you are worthy of eating".  fuck i'm crying.  shit.  fuck fuck.
1. frozen tikka masala is better than hawaii store tikka masala.  wtf is up with that?
3. let's throw out all the old clothes we don't wear, and the shit that's in the hamper i haven't emptied in two years, and then put the clothes we do wear in that hamper.  not this weekend.  do it this month.  it's ok to walk on month old dirty underwear for a bit.
4. vacuum the parts of the apartment that aren't covered in trash or clothes or books or junk mail.  it's not everything, but do a thing to try to help some.

yeah, that's not sexy, is it?

sorry.  but this is my blog, and i have to try to get my brain sorted out, and i think these are things i can try to do, and see in a month's time if i've done enough of them.

i really, really wish my old therapist hadn't retired.  i think i'd be much better today.  but, everyone has to do the things they can to make their own life what they want, right?

thanks everyone.  really.  i know i'm shitty at the kink stuff now.  i'm trying to keep up on tumblr, with pictures and stuff.  i have two exhibition stories planned (or at least the idea is there).  i think "glass" may be two parts, but i wrote the outline, then decided it was a bit too abusive, and so now i have to rework it to make it not make my brain hurt.

sorry.

i've pushed this aside, but i can't push this aside anymore

i saw this comic like two years ago.  but i left it alone, because it seemed too much, right?

besides, it's not like my dad did that.  i grew my crazy all alone, thank you very much!  but...

so hey.  if you're "daddy" um.  stab yourself. do it over and over until you're done with this.  just. ugh.  fucking blurry tears.

if you're clarissa.  sorry.  so many sorries.  i don't know how to do this, i'm just so weirded outt?

i kno2 my crazy shit brain can't heal anything.  i just want to be out there letting people  know it's ok to be ok!

fucking. shit.

i guess this is why you don't double up on omegle tabs.

27

http://www.mathcats.com/explore/age/calculator.html

here's a thing.

Do You Love Someone With Depression?

if you're here, then the answer is probably yes.  sorry.  shall we do the list?

1. my apartment is messy as fuck.  my bedroom is full of dirty clothes, and when i think i'm going to run out, i cram a bunch into the washer and dryer, and hope i come up with enough for tomorrow.
2. cooking used to be that thing i loved.  then i stopped cleaning so great, so now i get cockroaches, and cooking when you're terrified a bug is going to run across your pan or your onions or something is horrible.  so.  yeah.  taco bell and mcdonalds.  also supermarket cali rolls, because i'm lame like that.
3. i think this one is silly because of the random psycho "earthing" thing, but yeah, fine.  i stay inside all the time.  i sunburn too easily.
4. i used to shave a lot.  now?  i just put on pants, and ignore the people who are like, "aren't you hot?"  no.  fuck you.  we work in a place with air conditioning.  why would i fucking bother?
5. that was 5, but i skipped 4.  this is four now.  i.. don't know.  i'm sad, i'm lonely, and moving to a new office "that's all your own!" just makes me more lonely.  i live at home alone, then wake up to go to work alone, sit in my office alone, then go to the store to be overly polite to people because they make less money than i do and have to deal with shitty people, but i don't get to deal with any people, so why don't i get that relief, and then go back home where i can be alone with my tv again.  this isn't a great thing to do.
6. for realsies, i think.  when was the last time i had a hug?  four years ago?  my friend's daughter doesn't count.  she's 2.  two year olds hug plates.  i saw her do it.  i will say that having a tiny person hug you does help, but you might start crying, and that will freak out a 2-year-old.  "why doesn't anyone else love me?"
7. i laughed at a tumblr thing where this dog heard this parrot, and the parrot gave commands that confused the dog, and it's funny, but maybe you havfe to have seen it?  but i don't laugh.  at anything really.  people say stuff that are clearly jokes, and my brain is all "that's a joke.  indicate joke." and i like, "heh."  so it's great that getting super depressed makes you even more likely to make people think you're a jerk.  it's seriously like it's just trying to push you far enough away to kill yourself.
8. people can't.  when you tell someone, "i think i want to kill myself," they hide.  except if you're talking to a therapist, and then you get the "if you have a plan, i'm obligated to call the police and have you taken to someplace safe."  who plans this shit?  i can't imagine other people plan out elaborate checklists of things to do.  my plan?  get drunk (check!) take some drugs you have (kind of check?  i just bit half the pill)  wait until you stop feeling stuff, and then cut yourself, or swallow a bunch of cool pills (if you have them), and keep drinking the vodka until you pass out.  like, if i'm lucky, i'd end up dead.  if i'm not, then i have to wash the sheets, soak the vomit and piss out of the mattress, and hope that it doesn't stink.
9. so yeah. that's a destructive thought.  i don't have anyone to challenge it.  "i can!" you say.  nope.  you're an internet person, and i could blog about all i'm doing, and the  best you can do is to post a comment about how i'm a good person.  or you can call the cops here and say that someone named samantha might be trying to kill herself, somewhere on oahu.  the cops will probably be super happy to solve the vaguest suicide ever.
10. why you love me.  fuck.  now i feel like i'm baiting people to tell me good things they like about me.  i'm not.  my tenuous ties to this blog and internet existence rely on three people, and (based on the blogger stats), you're probably not one of them.  (in case you are, thanks for being wonderful at your own thing, and you have to know that you're the you i'm talking to right now).

but really.  this is a thing.  i'm bad at dealing with my own feelings, and i'm bad at solving the basic human interaction we're supposed to do in our lives.  i should probably go back to therapy, but it took so much time, and i don't think i got proportional results back.  really, if i could just get a perpetual xanax prescription, i'd probably be ok.

not "sane" or "better" just able to cope with things.  have you had xanax?  it is a miracle.

then again, that time i got super wasted on that opium cough syrup was kind of cool too.  

i think my lesson today is: "do lots of drugs, because they pull your mind back from the abyss of reality."

i'm...i'm a shitty teacher, i think.

sorry...

"Sorry, BLAHBLAHBLAH no longer has an account."

so i get someone who wants to chat, but then they're like, "nope.  done!"  and they don't want to.

why is finding people to meet so so hard?  i get that i'm crazy.  i spent two hours this evening trying to figure out how you can claim crazy and go to an asylum without getting fired.  i still don't understand.  i think you call 911, then have 911 call your boss.  unlikely, but has anyone done this?  or do you like tell your boss, nad see if you get time off?

this is hard to sort out.
:-/

does any one else depeche mode?

i was in high school...or

middle school maybe?

when i first heard them.

all the songs were just so super sad, i just went like, "whoa, what's that guy's problem?"

LOL

except you know the name right, and then things tighten down, and you get sadder as things fall apart.  eventually you hear the name again, and plug it into youtube to see why you remember it.

and it's all "enjoy the silence."

and you can't stop crying, because (i'm pretty sure) the last time you heard this song, you were about to eat out someone who meant the world to you.


but now she's off doing something not involving you, and you just have that memory.

someone who you would die for, but who left you behind like the greasy paper of the french fry bag.


so anyway.


i did the social media thing.  the dating thing.  i got a response.  i'm trying to be not-as-crazy as i feel in real life.  we'll see how that goes.  she seems a bit broken too, so, that's sure to end well, right?

well, i'm here, so let's do the whole thing.

i may come back to this later.

hawaii has kind of crappy radio.  i tend to do the NPR and the jpop station.  i like that boring shit.


but this morning was a thing about slavery.  like for realsies today slavery.  people bought and sold to others for things.  sex, it seems.  it sounded like mostly sex.  slavery for sex.

and i was like, "that sounds a lot like annie and sammy."

which sucks.  i want to write this fantasy thing that makes my brain better, and it makes me think of the actual people who live in horrible situations like i'm actually describing for my own fun.


how fucked up is that?


a lot.  a lot fucked up.  that's the answer.  and i guess football dudes are beating up their wifes all over the place now?  wtf?


so, here's how i rationalize things for myself.

sammy and annie aren't in a slavery thing.  annie has this scheme, and sammy is cool with letting annie run the show.  sammy totally could claim "no, stop, we're done, stop it all."  this next story has that as a topic.  i might emphasize it more now.  annie's thought is "i think sammy is cool with this, so i'll push her as far as i think she can deal with things."  is she wrong?  maybe?  annie may think that blah is cool, but sammy isn't happy with it.  what happens then?

well, they're probably both allegories for my own brain, so they sit down and have a quiet conversation.  this maybe isn't realistic.

but like...i hear this news?  that's not cool.  if you lock someone up, and you obviously have a serious power advantage, you're a dick.  this is where i think annie might be a dick.  so, she has to think that too, right?  we're...the same brain.  god damn it, annie.  stop fucking crying.

second news thign;  if you hit someone, and it's not like an over the knee, ping-pong-paddle as a tool thing, you're a bad person.  there are other things.  duh.  but like...bdsm is this thing here (i'm pushing my hands to my left like i'm pointing at something), and hitting someone because you're angry is this thing (hands to the right, this is a different thing)?

i was spanked when i was little.  do you know what i learned?  hide things that might be wrong better.  i wasn't a big problem child, but that was still the lesson.  "don't get caught doing X."

that's not what people who think spanking is cool are trying to do, so it's not working, right?

if you're cool spanking for funsies, that's a different thing.  you know what you're doing, i think.


grumblewardch ble ad;lfkja;dfja;sldkfj;aslkdfj;akdjf



sorry for doing another random ramble.  i just look at things, and i hear the news, and i try to form it into a thing that makes me not feel horrible.  and this week, i've felt kind of horrible.

why do people have to ruin everything?

real life

i hate it.

i have to wake up, do work things, take a shower to be respectable, go away from Captain Bed, do work things at stupid shit, go buy food so you don't starve, eat that food, be a dilettante in the world of "stupid shit and not starving," eat more shit, then go to sleep and hope that you die in the night.

but no one ever dies in the night.  they die because the hope and wishes that sustained them stop pulsing.  it's that final "zero" that ends things. this concept of a permanent sad world of past loved ones probably isn't healthy.

and it's not like i could change a thing.  she died of a massive stroke.  he died of lung failure, after years and years of smoking.

i hate having a legacy.  you can't disappoijnt peop,le you've never met.

in any case

i hate lots of things.

living.

dealing with people.

trash day.



but the thing that's the most stresser?
dealing with people online

have i told this story?

so, a few years ago.

my dad was like "hey, people are crazy, so you need to be able to protect yourself if you're walking home late at night.  take this knife"

it was black and fancy looking, and had a screw you could tighten, and it was loose enough that if you kind of went "ba-kow!" with it, the blade would flip open, and you'd be in stabby mode.

except i never really was out super late, so it mostly just sat on my table at home, and collected dust.

until a bit later, i started getting sad and drinking.  then it was like a fun game.  you could flip it open, and drink a bit, then close it, and do it again.  whee!

then a bit more later, i was like "oh, it's probably not even sharp."  so you drag it across your thigh, or over your tummy a bit.  "ha ha ha!  i didn't even feel that and it's dripping all over!"

then one day, i got way too drunk, and pulled it down across my left forearm.  i woke up the next day with that arm pretty much covered in blood.  i woke up because my friend called to say we should go get lunch.  i washed up, got dressed, and we went out and had some crappy sandwiches.

i was sure she'd be like "whoa, wtf?  did you like get murdered last night?"

nothing.

the thing that semed like a giant gash on my arm wasn't something that ever came up.  it eventually healed, but even now there's this four inch scar running from my inner elbow down.

eventually i couldn't hide it all anymore, and we talked about it, and she was like "this isn't cool, you should go to therapy."  i didn't until years later, but one day when we were out, i gave her this dumb present wrapped in some kleenex.  it was the knife, and i basically told her that i didn't feel safe with it around anymore, so i wanted her to take it.


flash forward a few years, and she's moved to the mainland, but we're still friends, so i'm visiting for new years.  we're going to play some game, and i go to get it from the closet.  "it's next to the towels!" she shouts from the living room.  i open the door.

it's there.  the knife i gave her.  sitting on the shelf next to the cube of toilet paper.  i look at it, and immediately the only thought in my head is, "no one will get curious for thirty seconds at least.  you can open it and cut some more before anyone knows."

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah

why is this the story of the day?  one of the things i read pointed out it was 'suicide awareness day' today.  and i had a shitty day at work today where my boss and a coworker basically fucked up a bunch of shit, and i have to fix it, "because you know how that works better than we do."  fuck you.

and i've learned recently that a lot of people that i've met online that i super really care about have had a lot of the same crazy depression thoughts that i have.  all the time.  like right now.  which is why the fucking screen is all blurry because of the tears.  we never notice when people we love are in pain, i don't think.  that's terrible.  no one should have to hide their pain.

i don't want anyone to have these thoughts.  they suck.  a lot.  going through the motions of your day, using all your energy to hold up a veil of stability, if for no other reason than to keep other people from asking you why you suddenly have this giant red gash on your arm.  "i slipped and my bathroom counter is crazy sharp!"  "i dropped a spoon in my dishwasher, and i think i caught a knife that was sticking through?"


and people believe it, right?   "those are stupid answers, sammy.  you can do better!"  no, i can't.  and i don't need to.  and i shouldn't.  and this is all fucking crazy, right?  like, if i say "a goddamn unicorn came out of nowhere, and was like 'fuck you, bitch' and then tried to stab my arm, but i moved so it was just a deep scratch, and then the unicorn was like, 'next time!'", i'm pretty sure people would buy that.  it's not possible, but people are more willing to accept that than "sammy maybe tried to hurt herself a lot last night."  why would they?  i'm showing that veil of sanity or whatever.


anyway.  this was a long rant, and i hate doing these.  but none of you have to know me in real life, so i don't have to hold up the veil of "oh, i'm doing much better now, thanks!" or "i'm just an everyday person who's happy to pick up your shit because that's what we do when we're all a team!".  thanks for sticking around, and i'm going to claim that this helped me, and maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

important update!

i've decided i'm going to do twitter again.

but only when i want to eat pizza.

so go follow the twitter.

if you're really concerned when someone from the internet thinks about pizza.

i am serious about this.

100% pizza, whatever% of the time.

So. How you doing?

me?  oh, what?

how am i doing?

pffst.

whatever.

you know.  "feeling like cutting"

as you do, right?

lol!

yay!



ok, but seriously, yeah.  that's how i'm feeling tonight.  which is kind of a shitty shit storm of shit cakes.

but here's a thing that i've come to the conclusion on:

i think me writing stories is a proxy for therapy.

i'm not at all saying it's a good proxy, or that i shouldn't go back to therapy.  i'm just saying that my brain has apparently decided it can work some shit out if i make really perverted fiction.

so.  like.  three cheers for my brain being that kinky, i guess.

here's the theory:

it's all about Exhibition.  Annie represents the me i put out day-to-day.  She's the "fuck all this shit, we have to earn the money so we don't starve to death" bit of my brain.  you never see her, because she's the me i try not to put here.  Sammy is the me that i am here.  the fucked up moron that pretty much just wants someone to tell her she's fine the way she is, and sometimes pet her head and reassure her she's not the fuck up she's scared of being.

basically, i think i write stories so the part of my brain that's confident can tell the other part that's scared about everything that it's not so bad, and it'll be ok.

but, maybe that scared bit has to obey the confident part all the time always, because that's the part that is distilling sheer panic into action.  i suspect this is why i've had three ideas for Annie crying in the past few days.  i think that part of my brain is really panicking and over-worked, and it just wants someone to hug it back.  i'm sorry, Annie-brain.  i'll try to support you better!


so.  yeah.  the psychological things you come up with when you write porn, and then try to figure out why porn story A is so much easier to write than porn story B.


i will get back to spa treatment, although i'm thinking i may break it up into parts 2a and 2b.  Exhibition: B was half the size of what i expect spa 2 to be, and i think that may be why it's taking so long.  write something until it's done, get it out, then move on to later bits.  i can submit only "full" parts to the story sites when i'm happy with them, but i can do smaller bits on the blog faster.  then, it's less of a burden to edit, and it can get out, and it's not like a three hour thing to prrofread.


also:  here's the secret about the title:

The Exhibition: B

The Exhibition: B
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-exhibition-b.html

for fucks sake.

i have to get up early tomorrow.

because we have to do a telecon the day after a three day weekend.  because of course we do.

why would that be a problem?  you've only had THREE DAYS to go learn how not sleeping in works.

"plus, we have kids and shit, and so we wake up the same time everyday, so why does that matter?"

seriously.  this is why i hate people and wish they'd die.  not all of us get to have families, you jerks.

but anyway, i took the sleeping pill.

no

fucking

effect.

i'm up and writing this post, and wtf?




anyway, you'll probably get an exhibition story tomorrow.  it's written, i just need to do the last proofread on it.



sorry people who wanted more spa treatment.  i can only write what my brain wants to write.  this was the decision.

thanks, brain. you're great

so i think i have two new parts of the exhibition series.  the concepts and ideas just popped into my head this morning.  "oh, duh, that'd be good.  but let's put in another one first."

i really need to get the spa treatment story done first, though.  i guess i'll push on that more this long weekend.

i need more days off. :-/

so sometimes i get messages

and they're just painful to read, right?  i put the worst bits up that i could find.

but, sometimes, i just feel bad reading a thing.  it's poorly written, and a bit rambly and non-sensical, but there's a heart in it, ok?  i can tell that this guy really tried to put his best message out, but it just blew up in his face.

so even though there are lots of weird things ("i like your hair"?  dude, even i hate my hair most days.  just because i killed it years ago doesn't mean i don't totally rock the hag hair), i'm not going to post them.

you tried, dude, and even though you were a bit silly, i'm not making fun of you for that.

i mean, it's not like you sent me six dick pics and told me how cool it would be to bury me underground and only feed me cum.

good for you for owning that awkwardness and not turning it into creepy.

can't sleep, clown will eat me

so i'm back from vacation.  going on vacation where you go see friends and family and do all sorts of not your regular stuff is great.  you can be all "oh, i don't care what we have for dinner, i'm super flexible," because like, you don't have to slog out to the store to buy hard-ass cali rolls from safeway, because you got home and didn't have anything to eat in your fridge.

ok, that got super depressing way faster than i planned.

anyway, vacation was good, i enjoyed not having to think everyday, and i enjoyed playing with all the cute toddlers that i'm apparently never going to make.

there's the depression again.  sorry.

but seriously, little kids are great.  they're all like "mama, snack?"  and when she says no, they come to you, and are like "whatever, you're a fucking grown up, right?  snack?"  and then you sneak a few chips, because you're not like a monster, right?

but now i'm back going to work, and i could feel my body tense up this morning when i woke up, knowing i had to go back to the same shit as usual.  the good thing?  i went on vacation when the stuff i was working on wasn't finished.  so my boss took it over.  "this is way harder than i thought it would be." fucking THANK YOU.  i've been trying to get that point across for months now.

sigh.

so, here's how things are right now:

1. i hate not having vacation all the time.
2. why do my parents get that channel, but i don't?  my condo is switching cable stuff next month, so i guess i'll get digital cable for free or something, but i'll have missed this whole marathon thing  by then.
3. i still need to finish that story.  i hoped i could write it on vacation.  i had too many ovary-feels to do that.
4. if i could convince myself that i'd be sane all the time, it'd be great to have my own family with babies and stuff.  as it is, i'm pretty sure making a baby and then dealing with it and my everyday crazy would be bad for everyone involved.
5. did everyone see that Mr. Veterinarian has a new picture?  well, a few pictures, but only one is drawn.  the comment says it's old, but who really cares?  Mr. Veterinarian.  doing art.  for everyone to go look at and enjoy.
6. i saw all the stuff in my news stuff, so i guess everyone else did too about the robin williams stuff.  stuff.  but like, i really think we should all just accept that at some point, people just can't deal with living anymore.  yes, it's sad, but making some one live a life they're not happy with day after day just doesn't seem like it's the right thing to do.  like locking a puppy in a tiny cage and never letting it out.
7. no, i'm not as suicidal as i have been in the past, i'm just regular sad.  so stop being a worrier.

i mean, why can't anything go well for me?

remember when i took prescription drugs and then left my freezer wide open?

now my kitchen smells like hot rotten garbage.  i've tried all the febreeze, and i bought a smelly air freshener, and i tried to dump bleach under my fridge, but it's just stinky hot rotten garbage smell everywhere.

and i go on vacation this week, and i still hate work, and i hate travelling because it makes me super stressed out, and now i'm going to go away, and come back to my whole apartment smelling like hot rotten garbage.

because it's supposed to be a tropical storm this week, i guess, so i'll have to close all my windows and things.

i can't even figure out where the smell is coming from.  "under the fridge" is my best guess, but i can't figure out how to clean that.  do i really have to like hire people to come in to move my fridge so i can clean the stinky shit up from under it?


this is why i hate shit.  it's just too hard to get up, live a life, and do stuff everyday.  i don't want to live with garbage smell.  why do we even have garbage smells?  why don't companies make "oh, you have shitty garbage smell under your fridge.  buy our 'unsmell the shitty smell from under your fridge' product"?

i bet it's because they're jerks.  companies pretty much universally seem to be jerks.  right, oceanic?  right, google?  right...some other company i'm angry at today.  stink smell company.  why do you even exist, stink smell company?

yay for scheduling weird posts

so.  panic attacks.

that's basically been my week.  my bosses all "DO THINGS TO BE DONE!" while i'm like "I CAN'T!"

all day.

because i'm doing vacation next week, so it's all...not going to work and stuff.

but, because i have to set up everything so other people can do my work while i'm gone, i'ts totally all panic attacks.  which is totally wonderful.


except not.


i will totally get part two of spa treatment out soonish.

i seriously don't understand people who are like "here are nine parts, it's totes cool!"

no it isn't.  i spend hours on this shit, and it takes another "the hours" to edit it to not suck so much!

"Nicole blushed bright red, leaving Mona to laugh to herself as she reversed the girls' positions"

that's a sentence! unless i change it later to be less lame.  that's kind of sucky, right?  i really need to work on dialogue.  that's where characters come to life."


anyway


i'm going to sleep now, i'll try harder tomorrow, i hope you have a great saturday, kisses and loves,

sammy

how is Lughnasadh even a word?

let alone a holiday?

sorry, someone said shit 9-6 months ago, and i can't back down from a wikipedia fight.

so...

um....


HARVEST THE FUCK OUT OF SHIT!

because if i listen to a song twice and it calms me down both times, i can't not share it, right?

i really don't care what you say.  it makes me smile, it makes me feel less shit, it makes me happy.

hopefully it does the same for you.

sorry, everybody

i'm going to do a sad poor-sammy post again.

but i don't have people to vent to in real life, so i put my sad angry feelings here, and that helps somewhat.

i've been re-trying my ambien the last few days to see if they help me sleep better.

turns out that led to me getting a popsicle at whatever-am, falling asleep with it on my face in bed, and leaving the freezer door open.

so i had a fun morning throwing out everything in my freezer and cleaning up all the icky juice shit it all left behind.

and then i go to work, and it's just explosion of shit after explosion of shit.  i just don't even want to deal with it anymore.

which leads to cutting thoughts.

because everything leads to cutting thoughts now-a-days.

and that's when i sit back, and look at some cute animal pictures, and try to not cry all night long.

because i'm afraid that if i start crying, i'll start bleeding again.

i hate this life.  more than i've hated anything ever.  i hate that i break down like this, and i hate that i have to dump it out for people to see to keep me from hurting myself.  this isn't right, this isn't cool, and the fact that this is the best way for me to deal with things is just horrible.


i really don't post these looking for sympathy or shit like that.  i just don't have another way to vent any of my anger.  i could tell the jerk in my office to "go the fuck home, because if you cough every ten seconds, you're probably sick, fuckhead!" but then my boss would have to deal with hr issues, and i shouldn't dump my issues on others.  i could tell my other boss to stop being so stupid, but he's dealing with a kid, and so sometimes he's dumb because he went home early.

basically, i could yell at people, but that wouldn't do anyone any good, so i get this build up of angry yells, and they don't have a target i'm willing to point them at, so they start eating up into me.

so i get more sads than usual, and then i have a cry out with you.

sorry that you have to listen to my crazy rambles and rants, when a lot of you just wish i'd finish the next part of that story.  i'm trying.  it's about half done?  i really like the ending of this one, so i wish i could just get to it and show you all.  i'm tempted to put up a "here's the outline" thing, but then it'd be lots of spoilers, and you'd get bored when the real story didn't live up to your expectations from the outline.

sigh.

i hate being such a failure and having everyone think i'm so great when i'm not.

wtf, 1950s

so...the "bull dyke" cuddled up against her and gave her kisses?

we're not the cause of problems.  it's just making everyone feel happy if they want to.

and i can't imagine that happened on the floor.  "are you ok?  let's more to the bed, maybe?  it's softer, and the table isn't in the way.  come on, we'll have more fun there."


this is just liek how ole white dudes imagined how lesbians acted.

lame

so i figure, let's try to work out this insomnia some more

i have a pile of ambien from when i was prescribed it.  so i figured i'd take one, get the sleepies, and coast off to a smooth early night in bed.

i took it at 9:30.  it's now 2am.  the sleepies have won, and they've brought reinforcements back with them from the land of sleepitude.  certain things on my computer screen are now randomly 3d.  like.  not computer game three day.  they pop out towards me on the screen.

i'm super wobbly when i move.  it's like all the rest of my body got the "ok, go to sleepytown" message, and they sent that to the "filter your sensations through this set of limits of reality" part of my brain.  i'm guessing, though, that "actual living perception of the self" doesn't check the mail very often, and so now me, and it (also me) have to kind of puppet this me along physically and mentally, and it so feels like we have to poke awake everyone to get things done.  "hey.  legs.  we're going to pee, get up and get us over to the toilet."  "gah...FINE"

"hey.  bladder.  we're peeing because you're all 'gots some pee down here!' get on with it"  "whatever, we'd probably be fine."  "yeah.  let's give it a go anyway, right?"

"hey, what if my hair dryer is actually watching me, and is silently laughing about how I nearly tripped on the bathmat."

i just wanted to get to sleep earlier so i could wake up earlier tomorrow and not spend my day in a haze of tired.  instead, i get to fight through the lamest fake horror dream my brain can come up with.

deep breath time.

so.

i've been lazy with that story.  i know how it ends, and that soothes a lot of the crazy in my brain, so it's harder to write than if i were making it up as it goes.

because, let me tell you, the making it up part took a lot of time, and a lot of... um... "exercise."

but i know i need to write it all out, and get it out, and let other people see the stuff in my brain that i live with.  it's how things work.

so i'll try to get on that more, and stop just reading other porn until... um... "things aren't as important."


this week has been especially hard, because my boss was all "you're doing a great job."

when you spend most days thinking you're just barely clawing on to things, hearing that is kind of a roller coaster.

"wow, he's really happy with what i'm doing!"

"but you suck at everything, so he's clearly just being lied to!"


which is great, really, if you already have that straitjacket strapped onto you, and know that that's not coming off anytime soon.


but i'm stuck being "not sexy crazy," so it just ramps up the anxiety.

which makes me lazier.

which makes that story even further off.



super sorry, everyone who likes stories.  i'm trying.

so i guess this means the insomnia is back

who likes tacos?

i mean, tacos are just wonderful right?

i really wish i had a taco right now, or like, a pile of tacos.

but then i want to trade up to soft tacos, because if you have a pile of hard tacos, the shells get all soggy and that sucks.

but if you have a bunch of soft tacos, wouldn't a burrito be better?  and not like a lame taco bell burrito, one of the ones from an actual burrito place.

i guess chipotle is the popular one? whenever i visit the mainland, my friend takes me to a qdoba, which seems like it's the same, but whatever, i don't know.

super delicious.

and i'm hungry now, and kind of wish i had that to eat now.  it's just like a pile of salty spicy flavor to make your tummy happy.


this is why insomnia sucks.  because you remember things from a year ago, and that spawns new thoughts that make you hungry, and then you think that you could only ever sleep after you go get some mexican food at 2:30am.

i mean,

i'd even be happy with shitty taco bell.

two things, and i should try not to do late night posts in the future.

thing 1:  remember when i liked this story, and suggested other people might as well?  there are more parts now, and i just read them today, and i liked them as well, but i totally hate sophia.  she's just awful, and the fact that i feel so strongly about a character in a story says something.

i really wish i could do dialogue as well as jess does.  it's just so fluid and natural, and i tend to gag characters just so they don't have to say anything.  i should work on that.

thing 2: i keep getting "go read this group" things on motherless for this creepypasta thing.  my understanding is that this works by taking a story that's like "something spooky was hidden in darkness.  it came out and killed people.  ignore the fact that only the dead people could have written this down.  it's super scary.  aren't you scared?"  then, next step is to type it all down somewhere.  finally, you take a picture of all the text, because that's the best way to tell a story.  as a picture of the words that you can then put someplace.

i read like a dozen or so of them, and they're all so weirdly bad.  like you follow a character's perspective until they die, and then you see an aftermath?  how do we know how they died if the spooky ghost monster thing disappeared and was never seen again?

maybe i'm just super jaded because when i get nightmares, i get super bad nightmares.  when i was on one of my anti-crazy drugs, they got a lot worse, but i switched back off that pretty quickly.

why can't i not?

dgf.  maybe google will tell you what that means?  but i spend way too much time there, and i try to convince way too brainwashed jerks that being cool to people is a good thing.

but i try so hard to convince people about how they're stupid.  and i need to just let it go.


i put that bitching thing up live.  be assured that i'll post you if you say something equally or more stupid.

crazy sammy can still lash out at dummies. :-P

hey

i'm posting this today instead of cutting.

yeah, i know, this got super real, super fast.

i just got this sudden super strong urge to just cut cut cut.

but i know that's wrong, and i'm going to go eat cookies instead, because cookies are my anti-drug.  anti-cutting.  anti-um.  "go-eat-cookies-instead-of-super-bad-shit".

i don't understand it right now, as today was kind of a not shitty day as far as things go, so this popping up again is weird.  i'm kind of used to this being the thing that gets me when my brain is super frazzled and i feel pushed into a really bad corner.  none of that is true today.  this seems like it's a bad thing.  if i can slip into super-crazy without a trigger, how do i know that i can hold back the super-crazy that i've fought in the past?

:-/  i hate brains.

question?

i get lots of random social flirting/dating shit.  i was thinking about making a post-thingy (like the new story thing that's permanently over on the left) that's just the most weird/awkward/shitty part of that stuff.

is that bitchy?  like, i'm trying to shame people?

i mean, yes.  i am trying to shame people.  shame them into being at least somewhat creative or like "not a dick" or something.

but is this going too far?  i read a tumblr that does okcupid things, and those are bad, and i get similar bad things.  but is it just rude to do things like that?

so maybe i'll do a week here.  put a comment that says "shitty" or "no, you're cool, sammy."  and based on the like one of you that responds, i'll do that or not.


honestly, a lot of these are just awful.  just.   no.  stop.  no.  go...someplace where people aren't, ok?