i woke up from a dream this morning.

i was laughing while running a dull knife up and down my arm.  “it can’t do anything!  it's not even sharp!"  i looked down at the blade, and noticed it was weirdly pink.  i then looked at my arm, and saw that it was mauled beyond recognition.  "ha.  gross.  people are probably going to notice that."

then i woke up.

wow. there are still a lot of typos in The Exhibition.

"Sammy continued to cry, only to stop when Annie smacked her three times with her right hand.  "Shut. The. Fuck. Up.""

clearly she smacked her four times.

"After a few breathes to calm herself, she opened the bathroom door, and strolled out, down the hall, and across the living room to the table sitting next to her cage."

omg, "breath*"

does anyone have any suggestion where to cut when i submit stuff to the nifty story page?  i could just do 1-4, the original story, which is all they have there now.

but, like, "candle" is pretty important

and so is "breakfast"

"birthday" is kind of next, but "exercise" is kind of a better story.

i want to do it this weekend, but it'd be great if someone had an opinion to share.  i'm thinking through breakfast.  it sets up the story, alters it, moves to a new town, and then settles into a safe landing.

ok. hah. huh.

so i should be asleep, but i suck at sleeping now.  because of brain issues.

in any case, i got an email that was all "hey, wow, you have a cool story up at the nifty archives."

what?  the gay/lesbian story thing i read when i was little and that got me hooked on kinky pee things?

yes.  that.  huh.

but, like, i didn't submit it there.  do i complain?  how do i complain?  i'm not angry with them posting it,  but like, i want some sort of attribution and shit.

any suggestions?

also:

whoops!

can't send email now!

click the send button?  nothing happens!  woo!

try clicking it again?  NOPES!

so yeah, if you sent me an email through bdsmlibrary, and are expecting a response, hope you're patient enough to wait for tomorrow so i can try my other computer.

because
shit
ain't
happening
tonight
.

huh.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

when somebody loved me

i'm sad.  about a lot of things.  i have to get up early to go to therapy tomorrow.  that's kind of a sticking point on the sad.

i don't want to go.  she was kind of condescending last time, with a "i don't think these are real panic attacks."  and "maybe try exercising" and "write down when you have these attacks".

which i didn't do.  i didn't exercise, because exercise sucks, and makes me ache all over.  and i compiled a list in my head of shit that made me panic attack, but i never wrote it down, so either i'm rushing my homework tomorrow, or just going in to say it in words, and accept that she's not going to buy that.

i mean, i guess the biggest problem here is that she was super dismissive in my first session, so i kind of just want her to go away.  so i'm thinking about skipping, since, you know, fuck her, right?

but that's probably an unhealthy urge.  everybody deserves two sessions, right?  even if she didn't read any of my paperwork before our first meeting.  she's busy, right?  she just wasn't "meh, whatever.  i get paid either way."

let's organize thoughts here for then, if i'm willing to pop this up in the office.

1. panic attack about what to get for dinner.  sat in the parking lot at work for ten minutes trying to sort out a solution.  i had nothing in the freezer for emergency food, so i had to get something out.  taco bell.  taco bell is always there.
1. taco bell always tastes like ash and failure.
2. the saturday i had a panic attack about going to therapy.  what if i do this and never ever get better?  this led to puking in the shower as i tried to calm down.  shower puke is the most convenient, but least fun form of puke.
3. the parking lot at the place for dinner was full.  should i bother?  nope.  let's run off to the far side of the mountains to get something dumb for dinner.  sure, it'll take even longer than just waiting here, but i get to run away.  no one can catch you if you're running.
4. i keep having fantasies about quitting my job.  "fuck you, and fuck you for lying to me about getting a raise!"  i don't know if he's lying, but it's been so long, it just feels like it must be a lie.
5. my hobbies are:
1. reading the internet for current events shit
2. reading tumblr for super offensive porn
3. reading pixiv for even more super more offensiver porn
4. recreational math, because i'm dumb like that.
5. not cleaning things.
6. i don't have friends because i constantly see the flaws in other people, and assume everyone else finds similar flaws in me, and if being with them pains me so much, me being with them must pain them so much more.
7. it's better this way.  i can stay locked away at home, and we can all just enjoy my nonsense until i eventually choke on puke and make a splot on the floor.
1. i recognize that this isn't a healthy thought.

but, also, consider:

1. people actively lock up dogs and pets in places where they can't get food or water or exercise.  intentionally.  to "teach a lesson".  i'm the same kind of thing as that monster.  why is my level of monster less?
2. people think that poor people are gross leeches who should be cut off to fix their own problems.  and then complain that they steal and shit in alleys.  i'm not surprised a lot of homeless people have mental illness problems trying to sort through that shit.
3. people are like "my sky god tells me you're a sinner because your love isn't listed in his big book of love.  i mean, marrying slaves is listed in the big book of love!"  we've had thousands of years to pull heads from asses.  why would we go back to thinking that any healthy relationship isn't cool?
4. racism.  sexism.  wtf?  just wtf?  do you know how much i hate seeing great porn with a tumblr comment of like "yeah, fuck that ugly nigger bitch in her stupid bitch cunt"?  what is wrong with people?

so, in conclusion, i eagerly await the day a surprise comet collides with the planet and incinerates everyone, because, seriously, you know we're kind of all awful in our own ways.

also, fuck that jerk-ass fucking yahweh of genesis 18:22.  "ok, fine, if I can find 10 decent people, i won't blow it the fuck up."  that's his price.  infinite power, but can only work on units of "whole cities", and has a minimum friendly fire value of 10 people.  "oh, but i'm going to knock up your wife.  you know.  as a favor.  that's how i roll."  honestly, how do people read their own religious texts and stick with that nonsense?

i hate everything and everyone, and wish i could just die.

this is probably going away soon, so.  you know.  get your comments in fast if you want to.

The Exhibition: Writing notes

the notes for this one.

The Exhibition: Writing

The Exhibition: Writing
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2016/02/the-exhibition-writing.html

i just wrote some

not for any of the unfinished stories, and not anything porn related, but something, and that's more than i've been doing.

memory hole shit here. sorry.

i write posts.

i send my boss emails.

i watch videos that put songs into my head to be stuck there for days.

i do all this drunk off my ass and blissed out on a variety of drugs that are totally legal.

totally fucking legal.  you can get so much brain alteration on the quick without much trouble.

but not xanax.  you know, that thing that actually solves problems.  the one that makes you not a crying mess in front of your friends and parents.  that's controlled.  with all sorts of fucking hoops to get through.

"i don't think you need that," she said, looking at me like i was sane.  "That seems excessive."

this is why i'm super down on this therapy try.  i want something to take to make me not panic about everything.  i want to be able to go get taco bell without worrying about pissing myself.

so.  here's my wishlist for 2016.

hawaii sorts out that bullshit medical marijuana shit, and i can get that from doctors who are ok with being cool.  my friend in california seems to have done that, and doesn't get the worry/panic i live with.

we elect hilary.  or, bernie.  i am so agnostic on this, i can't put it into words.  i want someone who isn't going to call for me to be stabbed in the neck their first day in office.  "but sammy, what about marco rubio?  he seems like not a nazi!"  yeah.  and he's going to stand up to people who are all "gay people are good for burning so we can warm"?


i mean... when your options are crazy fucking jerks who want to murder you for not being cool with rape, their friends, and people who are like, "hey, maybe let's help people not be in poverty", how is that an option.

ok.

time to get more super drunk and pass out.

whatever.

really?

Message from scanner
scanner@live.com
To: sammy_808@live.com; Fri 1/22/2016 12:48 AM


This sender failed our fraud detection checks and may not be who they appear to be.
SKM_4050151222162800.doc
63 KB

Download  Save to OneDrive - Personal

yeah.  i totally want some dick "scanner" up in my internet pussy.  whatever.

i'm dealing with david bowie videos not linking right anymore.  7-11.  or whatever. just, this isnt working anymore.  just not working ever.

it's never going to be alright ever again.  just not going to.

never.

i need to do an update thing

i'm 57 pages back on pixiv.  fucking forever back there.  i'm going to be delayed until like june.

ok, not june, but 57 fucking pages.  there's a lot of porn i need to consume before i'm up-to-date.

i did the therapy.  i'm not super optimistic.  it turns out "that seems like junky behavior" might actually be junky behavior.  she was all "i don't think you need drugs, but if we do drugs, it'd probably be the antidepressants that made masturbating so hard."  wonderful.

and she was kind of dismissive of my concerns.  not cool.  i'm beginning to think i got the best ever therapist first, and have been dealing with reject morons ever since.

so, i have three more dates scheduled.  maybe i'll stick to them, maybe i'll message her and suggest she go fuck herself.  i've spent a lot of showers wasting water thinking about how shit that session was.

i sucked at writing.  i was going to write a bunch, and then didn't.  no reason.  just didn't.  key has a new thing out.  it's a review, not a new story, but is like, "go read a book," and i have to be all "i have lots of books i haven't read!" because i'm shit at reading books.

"being shit" seems to be my new catchphrase for 2016.  sorry about that.

"so, hey, sammy.  got any thoughts on how to do 2016 better?"

sure.

1. tell you to listen to music i like more.  not everyone is dead yet, so there's good stuff out there.
2. finis some of the stories i aven't.
3. determine why h doesn't always sow up.
4. probablye should do 2 on my new laptop.
5. tis one seems junk.
6. try not to die.  "duh, that's easy." ha ha, live with this brain for a week, jerkington.
7. "not all presidents can be insults."  fine, president fucksavelt.  douche quincy fuck-you.  james k wank.

oh no, don't say it's true.

please?

i got back from travel.  i'm super tired and exhausted, and just really want to go to sleep.

but then i check my twitter, and i see the news.


i'm going to listen to some more music for a bit, and then go to sleep, and hope that this is all just a nightmare, and i'll awake to happier tidings.

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.

i wish tumblr would just say

"hey, this asshole stopped following you.  what an asshole, right?"

instead it's all like, "oh, magically, this number that probably shouldn't matter to you as much as it does is now one less.  huh.  wonder how that happened?"

i mean, sure, i should spend the time i waste reblogging shit writing my own stories, so i'm productive and not just "hey.  look at that.  cool."  but most of the time my brain is just junk, so that's not happening.

hey.  look at that.  cool.

also: am i drunk, or is there like a nine inch nails video that has a spider doing spider things?  i saw a spider today, and was like, "isn't that that one video?"

maybe i was just drunk.


sorry.

laysan keys:

finally finished.  i am sorry i am such a horrible reader.

i continue to worry about laysan, and i suspect will do so for the rest of forever.  this all worked out.  i worry about the three keys.  i worry about a lot of things.

surely one day the conflict will all be gone, right?  paty and laysan will be able to be happy together forever, with no interruptions or distractions.  right?

either way, you don't have to answer this to tell me.  i'll hope for the best, no matter what.

love
sammy

[but it never posted, so i'm putting it here so i can copy it later.]