huh

 so

it turns out that "maybe i should drain out some blood from my arms, and see if that helps" 

is called "suicidal ideation."

i wish i had friends.  or loved ones.  or could love a one, if it came down to it.

i wake up just wanting hugs, and then curl up to have nightmares of being murdered by grabby zombies.

i hate this.  i just want what i see other people having.  someone to share a life with.  someone who doesn't turn into grabby zombies.

ugh

so i moved.

and i know basically nobody here, so it's similar to before i moved, except there i just alienated everyone i knew.

but i thought, "oh, hey, let's try the online dating stuff again, see how that works out."

i filled in all the junk, answered a bunch of questions, and selected the "i'm not an asshole, i'm ok with most people, as long as they're not jerks."

and then looked at the first batch of matches.  #3 on the list, with a 97% match rating: my boss.

i did the totally grown up thing, and deleted my account.  why can't things just be easy?  i guess it's nice to know that i'm not the absolute only one left in the office who doesn't have any kind of family, but still.

ugh.  between this and the constant fact that i have to be afraid of fascists completely destroying the government, i kind of wish i were still crazy.

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.

:(

the news just said that a monk seal just died on laysan island.  i probably would have completely ignored it, but the name of the island jumped out at me.

i should read the latest chapter.

random thoughts, plus another short play.

if you tell me i'm fat, i'm probably going to cry when i get home.  i know i'm fat.  i know i should eat better and exercise and stop buying mcdonalds when i have a hole i need to fill inside.  that's this whole thing.  but you coming out and being all, "you need to lose weight, because you're fat."  that fucking hurts.  no amount of fat is going to cushion that punch to my tummy.


why do people go to the drive-thru and order like 19 meals?  just go inside!  there's an inside there, and you can all eat together and sit on uncomfortable chairs while you eat your shit-food.  some of us need to go home, so no one can see us eat shit food day after day while hoping the stupid organic engines just clog up and kill us.


i've been thinking about suicide a lot more than is probably healthy.  i should go to therapy.  my friend wants me to visit for a vacation, but isn't going to take time off so we can hang out together.  i think she wants me to goad her lazy husband into doing stuff, but i don't think i can deal with that expectation the way i am.  and i don't know if i can just beg out on this without alienating the only person who tries to talk to me ever.

i wish i could just not wake up and let everyone else deal with the messes i've made.


in case that happens:  "exhibition" ends on a super depressing point, but in a way that if you're me, you accept as a stunning redemption.

"spa treatment" will never end, because i will never get to the point where they re-commit themselves for more shit.  because i'm lazy.

the short play:

A: This week ended, all fears begone for us;
let those who tarry, yet enjoy their rest,
this work goes on eternally, go forth,
enjoy this long weekend for all to love.

S: Shall we write a story grand?  Late have we
forgotten our last goals, to live and love,
and spread such love to all that share our view,
that in love, may all that is weird, be free.

But wait!  I spy our water sadly low,
still yet just this bottle found, dry our home:
let us go forth and buy bottles a-new,
bottles to drink and share and love, I pray.

A: Shall we postpone the stories? Let them all
gather formless and grey?  Sit unloved now,
to await a glorious day?  How then,
shall we answer our friends?  Their love awaits?

S: Fuck them, fuck all, fuck all in the ass, shall
we dwell upon their goals, upon their schemes?
Or shall our stories breathe the life we give,
and soar into the sky we light with stars?



ok, that's enough of that.  seriously.  fake shakespeare is harder than i thought it.

so much counting.

the third-to-last sentence only works with one pronunciation of "seriously"

so. yay. psychological revelations that come up when you listen to 80s new wave.

you won't understand this.

because the backstory i'd have to provide is far longer than my currently drunk mind can provide.

here's the shortest version i can come up with.

this song played a lot when i did things i regret, and that shame has stuck with the opening piano in the back of my brain for years.

if you can sort out reasons why, just keep your damn mouth shut.  i know my reasons.

actual conversation from work today

her: "yeah, i think i've been working too hard."
me: "yeah, me too."
her: "no, but like, see, it's making me crazy."
me: "i kind of am beyond that point now."
her: "no, yesterday, somebody asked if i was having suicidal thoughts."
me: "oh."
her: "i mean, of course not, but they really were worried.  it's not like anyone has asked you something like that."
me: "..."


so go me for

1. apparently holding it all together at work
2. not having any friends who would notice things and ask questions like that
3. whining about everything on my blog

fuck

today's thursday, not friday.

shit.

time to mop up blood.

woo.

go me!

why?

my computer crashed, and it took way longer than usual to reboot, and i think it's dying.

my grandfather actually is dying.  i've been avoiding going to visit, because it's always hard to see someone who you remember being so big and jolly being super thin and cranky.

i'm more afraid of the computer dying, though, because it doesn't suffer from going on and on.

this is why i'm a bad person.


i only have two states now.  full bore panic attack about everything.  i spent three hours this afternoon trying to figure out what i wanted for lunch.  at the point when i decided i was actually trying to figure out what i wanted for dinner is when the panic hit.  how do i fight that?  i have food at home.  i can drive anywhere i want to get food from a restaurant.  i could go to the grocery store and buy stuff to make food, if i wasn't so messed up that i don't want to cook anymore.

and now i'm having a panic attack because i have to get up early to prepare for a conference at work, and then i have to do work stuff, and i just don't want to most days.

in any case, it's about time for me to move on to my only other state, so i can push the panic away long enough for some sleep.  see you on the other side of all this vodka.  sorry i'm so incoherent and stupid when i'm drunk.  thanks for putting up with me.  sorry i can't pull myself out of my depression to deal with people when i'm not drunk a lot of the time.  i worry that i'll say something stupid, so then i wait until i'm drunk, when it's pretty much guaranteed i'll say something stupid.


no comments on this one, because i know everyone would say nice things, so i'll just pretend you said nice things and it made me cry knowing how wonderful you are.  see?  look!  there are the tears now! it's like a miracle!

does anyone else?

"fuck.  not another random rant.  go to sleep, sammy.  sleep is your friend.  like literally, you have friends in your sleep dreams."

yes, sure, whatever.  important thoughts:

does anyone else sit and think about how we all just live on this big rock floating through space?

like, we're basically just parasites on this bumpy chunk of not-vacuum tumbling around.

nothing we do matters.  there isn't an afterlife where we get to have angel orgies or whatever religions promise.  you die.  you stop thinking forever, because the thing that did the thinking doesn't work anymore.  you're like the pump in the soap dispenser that doesn't dispense soap because it ran out of soap.

but seriously,

nothing matters.  so everyone should probably try harder to not be such an ass to other people, because they're just trying to survive long enough that when they die (and stop thinking forever), they don't feel awful about everything.

so when i see things like this irish vote to make gay marriage totally not an issue, i stop and think about how much i should be like, "whoa.  yay!"

but then i i think about how much that not already being a thing that's ok is fucking awful.  we all die, we all get eaten by worms until we turn into dirt, and then those worms die and that dirt is sucked into the earth to make new continents far far away a billion years from now.

why does it matter then that you married XX instead of XY?

it doesn't.  nothing matters.  we all end up in the same way, after about the same amount of years.


so why do we have to fight so much to get everyone to accept this fact?
:(

tuesday morning dream stuff

do i put these behind a cut?  looks like no.  this one is a bit weird, and i'm probably forgetting details that might make it less weird.  also, it starts off horror, and then turns into romance.  because brain?  anyway:

--

i'm in a new town.  i'm wandering down the streets, with all sorts of closed shops and things.  suddenly, a bunch of people come running around a corner.  "don't go that way!"  they continue past me, and i wander into the intersection to see what's going on.  more people are there, but they're dismembered and bleeding, or stuck in the walls and street.

because it's literally a "new town."  it's still being constructed in the dream, and as the buildings and blocks form, they're killing anyone who's trapped in that area.  i turn back to where i came from, and despite there not being enough time for this to happen, one of the streets is now blocked off with cardboard boxes and things that are taped to the walls, and extend up to the tops of the building.  the people who ran past did this to make sure no one went down the bad street.

i find the building i came out of, but there's shouting and stuff coming from inside.  it feels like a bank, maybe, and i'm at the "back alley side door" that banks totally have.  i open the door a crack, and there's a guy inside with a gun who'd taken everyone hostage.  he rushes toward me, but i pull a pen from my pocket and stab him.  like a bunch.  i remember feeling the pen tip hit a rib, and then slide toward a gap to continue in.  that gave me a new target to aim for.

i half wake up, because this is pretty messed up.

--

it's later.  the town is finished, although it's always dark here, because it's under a highway intersection.  my house is two blocks away from that bank, and one evening, i decide to go buy a book.  i don't bother putting on shoes, because the book store is next door to my house.

i wander around the book store, when i notice another girl looking at similar books as me.  we start talking, and we have a bunch of things in common.  we leave the book store (and we both had groups of friends there at this point, but we ditch them), and are running around in a park.  it's night time now, way later than it should be if time worked right.

she comes up with a "game" to play.  she picks up a long hard stick, and chases me around and spanks my butt with it.  i grab my own stick, and use it to defend myself, and to spank her.  she's using hers like a baseball bat, kind of.  mine is more flexible, and i'm holding one end, "underhand" if that makes sense, so that when i flex my wrist, it whips out to my side.

we eventually collapse into a pile on the ground, laughing.  i say something about going home, and she says, "no, this is where i live."  i'm confused, but then she kind of melts into the ground, because she's a fairy.  a city park fairy, who lives next to that one bush, i guess.  i'm still confused, but i get up, and walk to the street, where i meet her friends, who are going home to the park (they're fairies too).

i wake up for real here, with the standard sad feeling of loneliness i get after these kind of dreams.

how mental illness is just a fucking asshole.

me: "let's watch stuffs!"
my youtube video: "hi! i could play, but instead i'm going to auto pause because this is how youtube works now.  sometimes we play a playlist all the way, sometimes we just show a few videos then stop.  just how we're doing things now!"
mental illness: "you know, if you cut your arms open, you could probably make that video play without clicking.  just a few slices.  you know.  air out that blood.  exercise it a bit."
me: "what?"
mi: "DEATH!"

so yeah.  sorry.  this is the constant fuzz i fight with everyday.  sorry.

who wants to play a fun game?

which of these options did i have a nightmare about this weekend?

1. creepy tall monster legs outside my office door at work.
2. having an apple watch.
3. accidentally stabbing myself in the neck while sitting on the couch, forcing me to slowly starve and die there because i'm paralyzed.
4. a spooky haunted house that suddenly appears on the second floor of a different building.
5. a dumpster designated for cardboard recycling.
6. being chased while attempting to find a fire hose.
7. falling.
8. meeting an ex in an elevator.
9. trying to stab someone who's attacking me, but the knife doesn't do anything.
10. looking down from my lanai at the street below, only to see someone staring up at me with a super creepy smile.

i think the lesson i've learned is, "even if you're grumpy that you woke up at 7:30 on a day off, don't try to go back to sleep.  that's where horror lives."

today was a shitty day

mostly because i had a giant panic attack at work, and even my boss was like, "hey, it's ok, don't worry so much."  so.  i guess he now knows that i'm kind of gone crazy.

also, did you know that the maps on craigslist just completely ignore the ala wai canal?  i mean, sure, you don't have to put roads that don't exist, but you can't just pretend that what's clearly water is land.  see?

and no, i'm not looking to buy a mannequin.  i noticed it earlier, and just searched around in "arts and crafts" until i found a result that had the map i wanted to show.  those kid mannequins are creepy, right?

finally, none of these thoughts are related at all.  i just sometimes have thoughts and have to share, but don't have a good place to share them.  so they end up here.

sorry.

"You cannot modify more than 50 entries at once."

oh come on, you stupid thing.  first you're all "In the coming weeks, we'll no longer allow blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video. We'll still allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or  where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking  action on the content."

so instead of eating dinner, i'm looking through old posts to find which ones have images and video that aren't ok now, and then setting them to draft so you don't delete everything like you did last time.

but i can't change more than 50 at once?  then why even have an option to see 100 posts at a time, blogger?  why is that a possibility if i can't actually do anything?

i think i have everything set to draft mode now, so hopefully i won't have my second blog deleted.  i also had to take down Mr. Sador's art that i've been using as a title thing.  however, i don't know how to change the title text, so it's hidden in the background color.  crap.

i'm guessing my videos are ok, since they're all youtube embeds.  is youtube legal, blogger?

if anyone sees something that looks like i should probably get rid of it, put a comment on it, and i'll fix it that way.

i can't quite figure out if fiction is now illegal too.  i'm going to assume it's ok, as long as there aren't images.  that's what hte email says.  still, everyone should probably remember my tumblr, just in case this all disappears.  i don't want to switch to there completely, because i really don't like the tumblr editor thingy.


so yeah.  thanks for taking an already shitty monday, and making it even shittier, blogger.
:(

hey

usual lies go here.


but the main point for today.

how do people deal with the horrors of modern life?  i mean, i see lots of people online who are sad and broken and unhappy with everything.  like me.  and the literally 99 other people i've seen online who say the same things.  this isn't right.  why aren't things less sucky?

and like homeless people.  "again with the homeless people, sammy."  yess.  again with them.  why do we have homeless people?  why do we not just all agree that we shouldn't have homeless people?  why don't we just find some houses, and put the people in the house?  "that'd just encourage people to be homeless, sammy."  what?  like, seriously what?

people are going to be all, "oh, did you hear about legless joe?  he got a brand new free house, so i'm just going to chop off my legs and quit my job to be one of them lucky homeless people"?  who's going to do that?  people aren't going to quit their job to be homeless just to get a job.

unless, obviously, their job sucks, and the standard path to buying a house is so arduous that they don't think that's ever going to happen.  so.  you know.  maybe that should be something to work on as well, right?

so, again, if you're a republican, you should go fuck yourself, and then stop following me, in that order.

but honestly, how do people justify that shit?  "i don't want anyone to get better, because if they're doing badly, then they deserve it?"  what is that?  who wants people to do badly?  shouldn't we all want everyone to be happy and healthy and shit?

"you're stupid, sammy, who's going to pay for that?"  duh, jackass.  rich fuckers.  do you own more than one car?  then you could probably help someone not starve to fucking death on the damn street.  how many cars can you drive at once?  is it one?  yeah.  that's what i thought.

sorry for being grumpy and weird, but when you see this shit like every fucking day, you can't not want to help.  and knowing that i want to help, and i know that i'm only capable of that because the universe is too fucking dumb to see how much worthless garbage i am, makes me so super angry at everything.

sorry again.  i just.  me.  this.  all that.  random gestures you can't see where i point at things you also can't see.

why?

:(

promises i'll likely break

that one dream story.  i'm just going to give up tomorrow and post it.  i know it's not good.  but i've sat on it for like a month, and it's not going to magically get better.

that new dream story that came up last night.  just fucking do it, and get it out.  sure, no one is going to get or care about the ear wax part.  that's weird, sammy.  you're weird.  but if you do it, it's at least done and over.

the rest of everything:  i'm in a bad place right now.  i know that.  i do appreciate people being supportive, but a lot of times that support isn't helpful.  that sounds crazy.  i'm so sorry about this.  i just don't know how to make my emotions make sense to other people when they do something.  i know i have dumb emotions that do stupid things.  i know that that doesn't make sense to people.  i'm just trying the best i can.

if you sent me a message recently, i'm going to try to get to it tomorrow.  animal planet does this puppy bowl thing, and i am far less triggered when i have puppies to watch.  they are cute and stumbley and cute.  i wish i could be cute and cute.

so, again, sorry for being dumb.  i think i can pull together enough sanity for a bit.  sorry that my brain isn't great.  i wish i could be someone who was confident and posted everyday with shit.

sorry i suck.

thanks for sticking with me.

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.

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.