so i responded to a date request.

"sorry, i'm kind of out of town until mid january.  so maybe we can pick things up then?"

"or, chat a bit online?  idk.  whatever."

i am best at dating.  my dating is 100% effective.




i hope therapy makes me not so <this> all the time.
:(

i’m guessing the answer is “i don’t actually care enough to comment on this, because you’re just a commodity store of a particular kind of curated porn.”

(this is me cross posting manually from tumblr.  where i have more followers.  this is not a shame thing about blogger.  i love all my people equally.  also brokenly.  let's get to the text.)

so, hey, hi.  i’m sammy.  i try to keep a constant steady stream of porn coming out on my blog because of reasons.  some fraction of you enjoy that, and so we work together in a symbiotic way.


except, more recently, i’ve been pushing things into the queue, and keeping the queue posting rate hourly so that the queue fills and fills.
it turns out there is more than 24 good porn posted to tumble everyday.

part of the reason is that i’m going on vacation for new years.  and don’t want to blog porn on christmas.  that’s just rude
the problem, of course, is that i’m a small fraction of the “porn jerks” on tumblr, so you’ve probably seen it before my queue gets around to it.  sorry.
so that’s kind of the main theme.  my blog is going to be delayed on new things for the holidays so i can kind of try to keep a constant stream of stuff going when i can’t actively add to it.
don’t worry, i think i can add new stuff if it’s super new and cool, but whatever.

so, what’s the point of this rant, here, sammy?

i’m going to start therapy in january.  this is therapy for me to try to get less anxious about everything, and in turn, try to make my constant depression not a thing i have to deal with.  my brain is just in an awful place, and if you look at what i post, you’ll get some of the picture.

not all of it, because you can’t see me crying when i see certain posts.  this is getting worse, and is a large part of why i’m going back to therapy;.

“wait, are you trying to be all ‘oh, microtransgressions via porn are injuring my psyche?’ you dumb cunt?”

a) no, b) stop following me you jackass, and c) things set me off in weird ways.  i saw a dog unlock a deadbolt to let his owners into their house and i cried for five minutes.  i watched a round of wheel of fortune and cried for half an hour.  wheel of fortune.  my brain is all off in this place where being told that ketchup is red might set it off in a grand despair.  this doesn’t make sense, this is stupid, this is why i’m going to therapy soon.  

here’s what i hope happens:

1) I stop hating myself so much, about everything, all the time.

2) I stop hating you and every other person on the planet for no good reason.

3) I can finish stories i’ve written that i can’t focus enough to get to the end of.

4) I can keep posting on tumblr the cute/gross/snug posts i enjoy.

5) I don’t end up killing myself quickly (jumping from lanai) or slowly (all alcohol all day).

6) I can learn how safe/stable/honest relationships work.

so.  let’s see what happens in the new year.  i’ll likely be out of contact a lot until then, but hopefully we all make it.

so i guess i'm going to try therapy again.

the panic attacks and intrusive thoughts got really too far up for me to ignore them.  so i took a very old ambien and called up the brain doctor receptionist to get me scheduled for next year.

"you general practitioner can give you all kinds of useful brain drugs.  have you talked to her about that?"

no?  that's an option?  "i would like more ambien, please.  also all the xanax.  please?"  doesn't that make me look like some sort of junky?

i mean, not that i'm super sober sammy all the time anyway.  just.  can you just ask for powerful mind altering drugs?

and if so, why don't we let everyone have these?  if i go from suicidally off to calm and normal after taking a pill, why is that something we prevent other people from having?

ok, sure, you're going to bring up the old opium cough syrup that made my mind explode in sinus clearing rapture.

how is that opium spawned peace any better than the peace i try to steal from alcohol?

this is a mess, and a good reason to not share blogs with therapists.

who will probably tell me unhappy things when I see her next year.

let's all cross our fingers that i can break through some shit and not be such a fucking waste all the time.

ugh

worked from home today.  figure out that i made a mistake more than a year ago, so now i have to fix junk for something that was supposed to be finished by the end of the year.

then i noticed that the sun had gone down.  part of the reason for working from home was that i would have time to call the mental health doctor people, and get an appointment set up.  great job, me.  fucked that up.

and then i'm brushing my teeth to go to bed, and a massive panic attack hits.  all about the shit i would have to admit if i was really serious about getting better, and how i'm not really sure i can do that, so what's even the point if i'm not really going to get better?

and that led to me coughing snot out of throat until i could push the panic down enough so that it's constant drone of "you're going to suffocate like this, and they'll find you in your filthy apartment!" wasn't so loud and then drink enough water to stop coughing.

did you know if you have really angry coughs that you can't really control, you eventually get bits of blood?

or maybe i just brushed something weird and the blood from from my gums.  both are pretty terrifying, when you think about it (and have underlying pre-established fear about everything and everyone).


except terrorists, funnily enough, because i may be crazy, but at least i'm not a republican.


here's to hoping 2016 works better for me.

ok, republished a bunch of stuff that didn't need to get memory holed.

hi everybody.  i hope you're doing well.  i'm doing...sammy-style well, i guess.

i visited my best friend for thanksgiving.  in doing so, i had a sequence of panic attacks that i guess to normal people seem like a massive warning sign.  so, she made me promise to talk to therapists some more.  which i haven't scheduled, because i'm pretty much the worst fuck up ever.  but i plan to get to it. i'm hoping i can kill the brain noise tomorrow and make it happen.

she also wants me to quit my job and move to where she lives.  "because even if you're crazy, you're the smartest fucking bitch i know, and i'm sure you can get a job here."

which is weird to hear.  i mostly fight the noise in my brain telling me how dumb i am, and having outside contradiction is weird.  i'm thinking about it.  move away somewhere where i have at least one friend, and so at least one person to do things with.

two people.  her daughter is thoroughly convinced that i'm her friend, not "mama's friend." which is cute, but little kids are just jerks, and the only thing you can do about that is to give them hugs so they can't be a jerk all over, just in your arms.

so, i think i wanted to put this into an assessment.  maybe an end of year thing, maybe just a "i haven't posted my thoughts in a long time." thing.

i'm less suicidal.  i'm not zero suicidal, just not so much.  i'm unclear how to explain this in therapy.

i'm far more anxious.  trivial things set me off into horrible cascades of panic.  on my trip, i got stuck in a car due to parking.  i was hyperventilating for ten minutes after the solution of "sammy can get out if i back the car up six feet" happened.  this is not fun, and i wish i had more xanax to deal with it.

or that vicodin cough syrup.  just saying.  because that was just liquid bliss.

so yeah.  i probably have addiction issues i should work on, too.

my plan, though, is this:

1. i feel like shit all the time, because i don't see how i'm not shit.
1. things that suggest i'm not shit are caused by stupid people, who can't see how shit i am.
2. besides, it doesn't matter too much, because a disturbing fraction of the country thinks that being a fascist is just A-ok to them.
1. and if you're a fascist, kill yourself, ok?  just take a knife, start up by your elbow, and then pull down hard and fast until you reach wrist.  repeat 3-7 times, until all your bright red juice is outside, where it belongs.
2. because omgwtfbbq? registering people by religion?  we all know religion is all made up fake shit, so why not acknowledge that?
3. also, it's great being a mentally unstable lesbian who can't form relationships, because that means i'm nicely guaranteed to not have to apologize to my kids when the world they grow up in is a contaminated mess that can no longer support life.  
1. in the mean time, i'm totally eating all the ahi and unagi i can.  they're doomed, we're doomed, i'm having a delicious lunch.
4. poop?  having my brain means occasionally forgetting the whole theme.
5. so "party".  this is going to happen someday.  it's all there, i have large chunks of dialogue, i just need to push it together and make it happen.  it's essential to the overall storyline, even if it contains approximately zero sex.  it's character development.  you learn about Annie so much that you see she's not some psycho, she's just someone who makes mistakes and then grows to love those mistakes.  you also see that Sammy is stunningly not the moron she's been portrayed as.  how do these realizations work in the future?  no clue.  i only have the very final end planned, and it's a depressing shit storm.
6. i just need to get "spa treatment" done.  there is nothing holding this up other than my unwillingness to sit and write and make it finished.  i think i've dragged this out like three years at this point.  it's been planned top to bottom since three days after i started.  why is this so so so so hard to do?
7. i love you.  not that we'll really meet ever, but you stop over to read this shit.  i love you.  i hope that the therapy can help me get to the point where i cn love me too, but just accept that this is the best i can do right now.