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?

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

talking to people online!


aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

i hate it!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

huh. that was weird

The Tales of Gnosis College.

i found an image on motherless, i looked for the author/artist names on google, and found that.  i was not expecting porn on internet archive.  i guess the guy put it there?

i'm not even going to try to explain what's going on.  it's not really "good," but it's definitely "interesting."

read volume 2 if you want a quick look.  it's really the most porn-y of them all, with a minimum of the weird crazy backstory stuff that doesn't really work for me.  and definitely stick through it to chapter 5 towards the end for the story that made me read the other parts that come after (they're not as good).

i'm going to tag things i saw, and you'll just have to accept that i don't have tags for all the weird stuff.

Spa Treatment: Part 1

this is part one of like five, i think.  it's all outlined, but this is the only one with words so far.  i'll probably wait to submit it to story sites until it's done, but plan to do the individual chapters here for people who read stuff here.

this isn't related to the exhibition series at all, sorry.

Spa Treatment

i am bad at things

talking to people, responding to emails, accepting people who think i'm not utter shit.

sorry about that.

i'm going to try to get through all my emails and comments i haven't responded to yet.  if you don't get a response and think you should have, mail me again and i'll try to do so.  i really wasn't expecting "exhibition" to take off so much that people would be writing me nice email about how much they liked it.  i like you!  thanks!

but there are so so many of you, and when i have to chat, i tend to listen to the voice in my head who says, "hey!  let's hide under the blanket forever!  no one can find you there! yay!"

that voice is a jerk, and i know that, but that blanket is pretty sweet, right?

anyway, just a note from me about how i want to chat, but can't chat due to reasons, so i'm sorry i'm bad at things.

not dead

although i was jammed up in a plane for like a thousand hours today.  and then i fell asleep for another thousand.  because travel sucks.

also, it turns out the east coast is super hot and humid and they don't have trades.  basically: summer there sucks.

so....how are things going with you?  i'm kind of ok, i guess.  my boss is off on vacation for a week, and a lot of other people at work went with "fuck it, i'm touring the country" too.  probably will be a lazy week at work for me.

i need to get a story guide posted soon, because i saw that there were a bunch of comments about stories.  "exhibition" is done, everyone.  at least as far as i can tell right now.  "spa treatment" is next, but it's going slowly for some reason.

anyway, just a "my plane didn't crash" thing.

me. in social situations. or like, the fucking safeway. all the time, basically.

huh. that's a new one.

Dissociation.

i'm kind of thinking i had an episode or something like that today.  i was talking online with my friend from across the country, and suddenly thought of telling her about this other friend who was saying absolute nonsense.

and i sat there thinking about it, and when i couldn't come up with the other name to bring up, i realized that i was kind of out of it.

and then i realized that i'd somehow split her into two people in my head, and that i was about to tell her about the crazy shit she'd just done.

this doesn't seem like the best thing to have happen.  hopefully work will stop punching me in the tummy every damn day soon, and i'll be able to go try therapy again.

but first, i get to fly across the ocean, and then the rest of the country next week for a big work conference thing that i don't really want to go to, but my boss didn't give me a choice.

so if there's a plane crash in the news, and i suddenly stop posting forever, then i'm dead now, because i had to go to this conference i didn't even want to go to, but it's too bad, because it killed me.

dead.

but, hey!  good news!

work finally stopped punching me in the tummy.  every damn day.

:-/

hard limits

things i will never ever be into:

1. bugs.  no bugs.  ever.  ick.
2. eyes.  don't touch eyes.  do you wear contacts?  no.  stop.  wrong.  ick.  you put them on your eyes.  you see from there.  and you put something on it.  whoa.
3. finger nails.  all nails really.  don't try to put things under them, or whatever.  never do that.  that's just wrong too.  gah.
4. teeth.  i have teeth, they're not great, but they're mine.  i use them for chewing on stuff.  why would anyone want to read about teeth and horrible things done to them?  no.  stop it.  chomp!

sorry, just a "my brain has to put this out there now" kind of thing.  these are just forever nos. 

i know i like lots of fucked up shit that no one else likes, but there's some stuff that's just an instant turn off.  like brick wall kind of turn off.

does anyone else?

get this super panic feeling that just shows up for no reason, and you just have to coast through it, because you can't just get xanax to have forever unless you agree to sit down and do therapy again?

like

everything gets all tunnel vision, and you have the shaky arm stuff, and you just sit and stare blankly, hoping that your heart will just stop and kill you before you have to deal with people who will totally notice how off you are?

and then people show up, and start talking, and you turn your brilliant gaze at them, and they look like they're in this oval frame of shining light, but you have to strain to hear them, because you have those bees in your ears?

and then they go away, and you sit for an hour trying to remember what you said, and trying to figure out if your arm was really shaking as much as you think it was, because if it was, there's really no way anyone who isn't blind could have missed that shit, right?

and then you look at your work computer, and realize you have so much to do before the deadline, but you can't get that into you head, especially with this shining frame and difficulty getting the mouse to stay still.


sorry.

just

so much panic being pushed into my tiny brain.  i really wish i had more xanax.  is that me being a druggie?

do i even care at this point?

:-/

i stumbled across this author

and read the "Sow Primer" series, and i will probably have to go read some more of his stuff.

do other people

have this thing, where they google something, and then realize that wasn't what they intended to google, but it's too late now, you've learned about (like) ancient greece, and now you can't remember what you were going to google at all?

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The Exhibition: Breakfast

i don't know that i'm going to continue much more.  i just had to put a finish on things.

i did this as kind of stream-of-consciousness, which i usually don't do.  i like outlines, and detailed plot flows.  however, this has been kicking around my head for a few weeks, and that kind of smooths out the rough bits too.  and, since i'm trying to write a new story series (six parts or so?), i just wanted to get this out and done.

it's an epilogue.  or a segue.  we'll see how it goes.

it's boring, and not sexy, and not really super kinky.  it's words mostly.  and eggs and bacon.  it's breakfast.  but i had to get it out.

Breakfast.

in which sammy learns about other people who were probably lesbians, or at least bi, and i've known their work for like fucking forever.

Dusty Springfield.

i never knew who did that song, and then it popped up randomly, and i looked at it, and huh.

or that one.

or, that other one, but i guess dianne warwick did it first?  whatever.  that's not what i remember from listening in my grandparents' car.

this is apparently my life now.


freaking out about random shit from like sixty years ago, while i stay up later than i should before that stupid telecon with the east coast?

wah.

so yeah

i just tested

and if i send email from me, i totally get it on the other end, despite my email telling me it failed.

so, if i sent you like 99 messages, super sorry.

if i sent you zero messages, i'll try to get on that tomorrow.  i'm just too tired to bother with it right now.

stupid mail.

my email is all broken

i can get and read email (i think), but i can't send anything, or at least i don't see that i've sent things correctly.

which sucks, because i have like four emails i need to respond to, and i can't, and it sucks, and poop.

double poop.

holy shit

did you know they have pillow cases with pockets for the pillow?  like, you put the pillow in, then you pull the pocket over, and the pillow stays in the case because of the pocket.

i just discovered my new sheets did that.  that's brilliant.   why isn't this on all pillows?  i hate waking up with my face on just pillow.  this like locks them in.


anyway.

new story idea (because of something someone said), so i'm plotting it out.  i'm thinking of doing a super short update to "exhibition," and so maybe that'll get a sequel at some point?

work sucks, life sucks, feeling slightly less crazy than usual.  go me.

just.

pillow case pockets.

wonderful.

"your blog"

i've had a number of emails recently that were all "your blog."  is this the default?  really?


so, if people read this and care:

can you change it to like:  "your blog,  but we're totally cool, don't freak out."

because i do all the time, ok?

so

 be polite!

i liked this story

Andrea and the Changing Friendship.

i didn't read the earlier two parts, so i'll need to go back and do that.

it's a good story.

i want to brag about people i know who are artists.

first, Mr Veterinarian. he's totally on some kind of hiatus now, but i'm sure he'll be back one day to post even more cooler pictures than he's already done.  and that reminds me, i owe him a story at some point.

second, Mr Sador.  he's been super cool with me stealing his wonderful image for my header, and although he's kind of often too harsh for me (i like arms!), he's really a great guy.

Mr Christopher, who mostly doesn't do art anymore, but makes beautiful leather to put on people to make them into art.  i dare you to read his blog and not wish he'd make something, and put it on you so you can't escape.

Mr Hazy Cosmic Joe, who i know told me his real name on email, but i can't remember it now, so i'm going with the deviant art thing, and yes, i get that this is a really shitty "i know this person, but i needed one more, and we've done email before, so it's nearly like we're friends, just be cool about it, ok?"   this was seriously one of my very first experiences with bondage stuff, and if you like crazy sammy today, it's probably because of this stuff.

dear italy,

i didn't forget my login to my blog.

so you're just trying to steal it from me somehow.  because you're a jerk, i guess.  stop being a jerk, you jerk.

i'm just doing my thing here, and not being mean to anyone, and you're all "let's try and steal sammy's blog.  because we're bored, maybe."


stop it, don't do that, go get a real hobby.  pet some cats or something.


fucking jerks.

first point:

i should avoid powerful narcotics, because they make me be all fucking crazy and shit.  i'm less sick now, and whoa.  thanks for helping me be fucking crazy, drugs.  omg.  those drugs.

omg.

i guess vicodin is a good anti-cough thing?  but i took it and everything was like...well...awesome.  imagine the world as a firework that makes you look at it like it's gold.  that is what vicodin cough syrup is like.  and yes.  my life is awful.  and i wish i had a prescription for it forever.  because the real world sucks, all right?


fuck you, the real world.

anyway, I'll ignore you from here, so good luck all!

because watch it, ok?

i liked it.  maybe you like it too.  it's cute.  are you cute?  be cute and watch it, ok?

this should have been a full post

so i guess literotica published this one, and my first comment was:

'Pointless drivel. The reader was tortured more than the "pet"'

i really hope literotica keeps that one. i want everyone to be able to read that, and see what kind of jerk this "anonymous" is. i mean, what kind of name is that, anyway?

really, i wish i knew who that was so i could fuck with them. send them pictures of my arm bleeding all over. "i did this because i know what a joke the universe is. do you think your anger at me makes any difference in the cosmic nothingness we'll all return to?"

today was a good day, because i'm totally sick, and that means i can stay home from work tomorrow and watch tv in my pjs on the couch. and eat pizza. i am as close to invincible tonight as can exist in this world.

also, i've taken a powerful narcotic anti-cough medicine. i may also be invincible because i'm Isis, mother of Horus.

that's...you type it out, and it suddenly seems less likely. so, probably just the drugs now.

this should have been a full post.

hey, whoa? i'm not coughing anymore!

cool!

The Exhibition: The Candle

i finally was able to get this all edited and sufficient that i'm calling it done.

sorry it took so long.

socialism with sammy

i've mentioned before that i think the government should give you a family when you grow up, and that they should give you mac and cheese as a food program.

next idea:

cookie bus.

you know how a regular bus comes on schedule, and picks people up at designated bus stops?

cookie bus is similar: regular schedule, designated cookie bus stops.

but you don't get on, you just get cookies.

chocolate chip, oatmeal, peanut butter, snickerdoodles.  all the cookies.  because it's a bus, and you can keep lots of cookies in a bus.

"one of each please!"

cookie bus is the best idea.

i live in a tiny world of the internet

but, i assume everyone knows Mrs. KC, and all her stuff, and all her pictures?

maybe not?  she had a webpage years ago, and i would go there every friday or so, and check out what had been posted new, and download and horde the pics.

but probably some sort of dickery, and she shut everything down, and it was sad,  but i'd saved a bunch, so i could perv out whenever i wanted "english lady who does leather and stuff, but like all the way, right?"

and then she came back on tumblr, but now maybe she's going away again?

i'm not telling people what to do, but if you have a tumblr, go look at her stuff, and if you like it, do the...like-it? stuff? (i am still bad at knowing how to tumbl.)  it's good stuff.  i like it.  maybe you will too?

anyway, this is just a random "sammy drank too much, and doesn't have much to say, but kind of wants to push that last rant down a bit" kind of post.

oh, that pixiv thing!

also, one late night reminder

no matter what, no matter who we get around us at the end.

we all die alone.  no one else can go down that path with us.

in the end, we'll brave that path untraveled, and no-one will ever be able to help.  and when they reach that path, no one will help them.



this is just how reality is, so it's not worth getting upset over, but...it's worth keeping in mind for that time, right?

dear marcel b,

let's assume you're not just some rando crazy dude.

at which point in my "hi, my name's sammy, i'm a perv, and i live in hawaii.  my parents are of mixed hawaiian and japanese descent, and because my Bachan didn't speak much if any english, i kind of have a passing knowledge of japanese.  mostly things about how delicious her food was.  So So delicious."

anyway, if you thought that meant "totally fluent in...dutch? i guess?" you thought wrong.  i guess i could copy-paste into google and see what you said, but, like... why?

so, then you get this blog post, all to yourself.  where i kind of call you out for being kind of oblivious that not everyone is like you, and you might need to tune things a bit.

and yeah, i know, i'm an american, and we kind of shit all over the world for dumb reasons, so "shut up, bitch, stupid cunt bitch." (first, not anything marcel said for other people, but totally something i've heard before).

let's just everyone admit we're not perfect, right?  let's all just click on that link for Bachan, and listen to that song, and realize how horrible we are in real life to people who probably would be our friends if we'd just let them.  how much we could fix things if we just stopped shutting people out as being different.

ok, fine, i clicked the video so i could link it, and now i'm crying again, and it really has nothing to do with marcel, or anyone.  just a kind of permanent sadness about the world in general, and how much we could all fix shit, if we'd just work together for once in our stupid miserable lives.

and now i'm crying again, and this is totally your fault, marcel.  i could be blissfully un-observant of modern society but now i'm not, and it's because you made me think about things i hate to think about.


i'm going to go cry now, everybody.

thanks for being cool.

except you.  marcel.

<angry face>

new idea

everybody gets mac and cheese.

like, we get the government together, and set up mac-and-cheeseries everywhere across the country.

it's totally free.   you want mac and cheese?  free mac and cheese for you.

and it's good stuff, with like proper cheese, not some shitty powdered stuff.

maybe there's free chicken to go with it.  whatever.  protein is good.

but like, this is a new food program to ensure no one is ever hungry.

and that no one is ever without delicious mac and cheese to eat.  whenever they want.

like right now.

i really want some mac and cheese.

:(

stuff

i saw this news story today, and was kind of surprised.  i was like "holy crap!  i've seen her in something, like an insex video or something!  i remember her crying!"  if that article is right, it sounds like she should win her lawsuit, because that doesn't sound at all cool.  also, it's a shame to hear that she was abused.  it seems like that's a lead in to weird stuff for a lot of people.


then i went and tried to find out where i remembered her, but didn't find anything, but i did find this series which i really liked (the gallery is sorted wrong, so you have to read backwards).  strapped into a big steel frame thingy fully clothed, given an enema (piss enema?), forced to release into her clothes, then strip down and clean it up with her filthy clothes, rinsed off, second enema (i really thought she would end up bathing in the tub she released in), really cool bolted collar and frame chair, boring spanking stuff (sure, ok, it's insex, they do more pain that i really like), then the girl who's been locked in the cage in the background the whole time is hogtied, suspended, and forced onto the first girl's face, so she has to eat her out.  really nice theme, although they could have skipped the spanking and doubled on the filth.

i'm also doing a sequel to the last story, mostly because i had the main idea, and then this secondary theme popped into my head, and it was just too good to not do.  i'd probably have more written by now, but the stupid winds have been from the wrong way all weekend and week, and so it's muggy and unpleasant in my apartment, so writing stuff just gets sticky and not fun.  anyway, just a note.  there might be another after that, because this other idea is kind of cool too, but it won't fit into this one, so it has to go somewhere.

so yeah.

stuff.

i thought this was a good story

Rolling in to Trouble
by Druid5

it's a bit scattered, and maybe could have had some more development on things, but as a series of scenes and scenarios, it's pretty good.

yes, i know, "don't do that", "it's not worth it"

but seriously, i just got a big push, and you have no idea how freeing a good cutting can feel.  you get the pain, and then you can feel the blood rush out, and there's an adrenaline shock that makes it all go away.

until tomorrow, where you're left with that wide gash on your arm, so you try that sweater and the appropriate skirt.

but then people are like, that doesn't match, right?

and it doesn't, but since when have you been noticing my fashion decisions?

and then it totally gets around. "i think sammy's cutting again" and now all the fun is drained out of it

because it's not me rebelling against things now.  it's just me satisfying my co-workers depressive fantasies about me.

which isn't fair.

i should be allowed to be cruel to myself without this scrutiny.  you jerks.

side note: thanks, you jerks, for being the safety net on this.  i'm not kidding about how much i wanted to cut, but you diverted me away.  thanks a super lot.

i was going to post this earlier

i woke up this morning, because i felt something tap on my bed.

"oh, it's little kimchi, my friend's dog"

"wait, no, i'm not on the mainland, i'm at home! who's fucking on my bed!?"

then i felt a spoony-cuddle like my last..um...girlfriend, we'll call her... did.

"HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE, BITCH!"

then my eyes opened, but they didn't open correctly, so my left eye saw my blanket and sheets, and the right was wonky looking up at the wall.

this was when i realized i was having some sort of sleep paralysis thing.

turns out, that isn't super reassuring.  "ok, don't panic, it's all fine.  you just can't move, and you're kind of have to deal with whatever hallucinations your brain can come up with.  but, just keep in mind:  it's all totally fake and not real."

so that's how i woke up this morning, and peed the bed a bit, and then had to change sheets and go back to  bed for another two hours because who wakes up at 5 am?

and really, the panic between "cute puppy!" and "OMG THAT BITCH IS IN YOUR ROOM!" is something i'd like to not deal with again, brain, thanks.

whoaa

have you ever hd a dream, where you wake up, and push everything away, and sit pushed against the wall while your heart stomps in your chest for like forever?

ok, it was only like five minutes maybe

but holy what the fuck?

ok

i'm pretty sure it's time to go puke, because i feel sick right now.

but

i'll come back and sort out details


waking up unhappy and weird is usual

waking up panicked and crying is a totally new thing.

so, what i remember is standing on magic island (it's not in waikiki, but it's close to it.  it's across from the mall).

and there were a few other people:  my best friend (who hasn't talked to me in a couple weeks), someone from the internet (who i kind of only vaguely know enough to picture), and my boss.

but like, the ocean was gone, and just fire and sand.

and no matter what you think of hawaii, it's pretty clear when the world is fucked, right?

so we're all standing there, and bits fall off, and everyone else dies, and i'm left standing there alone on a fragment of sidewalk jutting over the edge of the (not) ocean.  i turn around, and see the rest of the island in various states of "fire" and "blowing up because of fire".

that part of me i know that's still there.  that lives there deep inside, and shouts whenever i get sad, and makes me feel more sad when i hear it shout back?  i heard her again.

"fuck this shit, let's do it."

then i jumped out, over the "i'm pretty sure magic island isn't that deep there" not-ocean.



and there's a smile on face, but



i wake to all this adrenaline making me think i'm going to explode.

ok

i'm pretty sure it's time to go puke, because i feel sick right now.

but

i'll come back and sort out details

you know what's not super fun?

having your brain shout "oh, hey! you know what's fun?  let's take a knife, and slice random parts of our body! 

"we could do arms, or, like, you wear pants to work, right?  so legs then... 

"that tummy is kind of chunky, maybe give it a pass or two!  wheee! fun!"

thanks, brain.  you're a jerk and a jackass.  thanks for shouting that at me while i'm trying to go to sleep.

i mean, seriously.  go fuck yourself.

sigh.

so this is me talking about it instead of doing it.  because i have enough scars, i think.

don't bother commenting or stuff, this is a post for me, not for you.  also: i just learned how to turn off comments for a post.  so.  :-P

so, you should probably follow on the tumblr

because i reblogged like a bajillion things today that you'll probably appreciate, and get off on, and all that.

since, i guess we all just reblog shit on tumblr now.

and, because of that, i've decided that i'm not going to be super sorry that i post weird brain freak out shit here.  it'll be weird brain freak outs and my own fiction.  and i'll try to get the fiction someplace else too, so if you just want sammy's long stuff, you can go to literotica.  or, if you just want to never read anything ever, you'll go to bdsmlibrary.

because they suck at posting things (is the joke).

so yeah.  that's the new situation as of now.  i can boop some new porns for people to see, and then i can rant here about being treated like shit by fucking stranger jackasses who can't be bothered to fucking act like you would if you found a kitten.

i mean seriously.  what the fuck, dude?  i respond and you immediately call me a whore?  was i just someone for you to shout at because you don't like the rest of your life?  at least warn me that i'm suddenly responsible for your unhappy situation so i can figure that shit-fuckery out.

hey

i'm chatting at you.

why aren't you sending me pictures?

you should be cooler, because you like scat.

are those pics coming?

shut up, i'm telling you how cool i am.  i'm super cool.

now you're being a bitch by telling me how much i'm not being nice.  why are you such a fucking bitch?

my dick is huge.  you'd choke on it all night long.

where are those pics?

why do you think you can chat at me?  shut up you stupid cunt!  bitches like you should be raped to sleep!

this bunny

omg

"it means a lot to her"

i wish i could have pets, so i could have a bunny.

omg.

bunnies.

porn tomorrow maybe.  today?  me just freaking out over this super cute bunny being cute all over the place.

pa-too.

dealss with it.

i really really wish

you could have someone

maybe they're assigned to you

so you could flail around like usual

but if you get to be
like
um

thirty-ish

you just get told

"nope, you're part of this family now"

and then you'd probably be their bitch, right?  this cunt assigned to you to take care of?  not  a lot of love there.

but, you get this person.

and that person gets to be owned, and hopefully loved,

such that they don't have to cry themselves to sleep every night, and wish they could fight this social anxiety demon that is always poking their eyes.

a locked cage is better than a comfy bed, right?  as long as you know in the morning someone who loves you will let you out.  i live with the triumph of a comfy bed.  knowing i'll wake up to despair and sorrow.

sorry for the lameness tonight.  just.  i hate life, and being lonely, and sucking at dealing with people.  not your problem, i know, but if i don't share, then this all builds up inside.  follow the tumblr.  it's all me reblogging pics and stuff.  so.  that's there if you just want porn.  i'm trying to come up with a new porn story, but my brain can't get anything organized.  yes, sure, there's that candle one.  but it's kind of shitty, so i'm hoping for another one.

anyway

have a good sunday, ok?

love sammy

frozen

i mean...amazon is sending me the blue ray and the dvd in the mail right now.

but it's still playing at my theater?

i really want to go, with my own copy, and sit through it again in the theater.

sorry, this is just me ranting about how i want to throw money at something because it tickled me in the way i wanted.

but seriously, if you haven't seen it, go go see it.

so here's where you just resign yourself to accepting what i'm going to post, because it's best for everyone, ok?

really, i don't like miley that much, but. .... just give it a try?

basically

i wanted a way to say "here are things i do, so you know, ok?"

that's why i added the new box.  it's not really a marketing thing.  people who do advertising suck.  (unless you do advertising, then you're totally an integral part of the economic system, ok?)

but yeah, i don't ever want to do ads, because marketing sucks.

;)

The Exhibition: Part 4

Finally.  I hope you like this final chapter.

something different

so i took an ambien, and that kind of just mellows me out instead of proper driving me to sleep.

so i wrote a story for an idea that just popped into my head.

It's called "murdrer" because i was sloppy when i typed it.  it starts out in my pre-writing points, but then it degenerated into mostly dialogue, and by the end it was basically all regular.  it's not about kinky stuff, it's about murder.  think of like a sherlock holmes/downton abbey setting.  all that stuff.

and it's ok if you don't like it/think it's confusing/don't care about it.  Totally fine.  i wrote it to get the idea out of my head, and i felt like sharing, but didn't feel like doing the rewrites and replans that i usually try to do.

anyway

murdrer

fancy club
side of the bar, group talking about forming a murder club. hunt down riff raff in the alleys.  easy as pie.  joking around

professor character overhears, sits down among them.  "overheard you last week, chums.  seems like you're getting into a messy business, I'd say."

"So what?" gets defensive, professor is calming and settles them down.

"Just a bit of advice.  With the right planning and insight, you can see a scenario where just the tiniest puff of breath can power your mechanations to their unstoppable end.  Mechanations that play out invisibly to all, providing no clues as to what that grim end will be.

take for instance a point at that ball you threw last Saturday.  I was browsing your very excellent display of Indian jewelry when one tiara caught my eye.  I mentioned it to your wife, and pointed out that one of the stones, the...ruby on the left edge if I'm not mistaken, seemed to have slight occlusion I'd not noticed in the past.  I mention it to your wife, and suggested that she take it to her jeweler, and have him take a look.

the next day a had a cable from her telling me that the entire item was fake.  Someone had planted a amazing forgery that was absolutely worthless.  My reply back was fairly simple, just a note about how the full piece wasn't worth that substantial of your fortune, but would easily fund a small apartment or something in one of the lower parts of town for a year or so.  Perhaps this forgery was chosen to silently pay for something outside of the accounting?

I went along on my day, assured that I had given all the advice that I felt I could.  And now gentlemen, I suggest we finish our drinks now, before the constabulary arrive to arrest young Mr. Billiam.  

"Arrest?"

Five to one odds on it, if you'd be willing to take it.  If your wife were dumber, I'd have let those odds drop, but I think I know her well enough.

Well enough for what?

Well, someone replaced that tiara and had a wonderful facsimile produced to hide the theft.  That discounts the servants, who would simply have taken it and run off.  So someone of our status then.  You're a reasonably upright man, and so you probably don't invite thieves to your parties, and in any case, none of those boys would filch something so small.  This makes the under-board accounting theory best, making you the prime culprit.

Next, if you did do that, it would easily cover the costs of a, let-us-say "young female companion" in a decent if discrete manner.  That could lead to scandal, and certainly your wife would take it hardest.  Faced with these conclusions, it'd be quite likely that she'd rather end it permanently, rather than cope with what the papers would say about her day after day.

Poison would be the most likely, I suspect.  Someplace out-of-the-way so she's not disturbed, the music room, perhaps?  Then, a servant walks in, sees the results of the deed, and raises all the house.  The authorities are there in a flash, and a full search of the house is taken to look for evidence.  I'm sure that that hall closet by the rear door that the staff always insists needs to be kept locked will be burst open as well.

I have far less faith in your intelligence that I did in your wife, Sir.  You've

 been describing this hypothetical club for a few weeks, but your details changed last week.  More precise, if you will.  Yes, far less intelligent, but the thrill got to you, didn't it?  Are they ears?  Fingers?  The papers don't put much detail in the murder of the poor, but even the worst detective will be able to identify your totems in that closet.  The servants will sell you out as well, repeating your own words that "no one opens that cabinet" and "Mr. Billiam has the only key."

So, checking my watch puts us at 4:35, and me with an empty drink.  I would call for another, but I suspect those footfalls on the stairway suggest that 5:1 was the correct odds for this wager.

Billiam looked over with a face full of crushing defeat.  "Why?"

"Because you thought that your murder game was fun and flawless.  You imagined yourself some new Ripper, terrorizing the city for years.  In reality, you chose a game that although it can be played in an alley with a knife, it can be played far more effective with two simple sentences.

"Before they take you off for trial and speedy execution, as I suspect this will be my final meeting with you on this earth, I do want to inform you that that tiara was a fake when it was sold to you.  I've known since I met you that you were a fool, and seeing that tiara on my first visit to one of your parties solidified that fact.

listen to this now, ok?

i saw the man who fell to earth a few years ago in the theater, "because i've heard of this guy before."

i'm still pretty sure that i'm a lesbian, because when i get turned on, it's about that kind of stuff, right?

but seeing David Bowie doing stuff?  and even recent stuff, where's he's old and whatever?  yes.  please.

sorry, was just listening to stuff, and this popped up, and i just had to share.

so hey

i've been down lately

like way down.  i'm hoping it's just job stress.  my boss has been all "do this stuff! i know it's impossible, and you probably should be like five people, but you can do it all by yourself, because you're smart, so it needs to be done like, tuesday"

but like, no?  ok?  you want me to do something that's super hard to figure out, and you don't let me have any help, and i have to do it on a deadline so you can look good to your boss?  man, fuck you.

except i can't say that, because duh.  jobs.  fucking jobs.

anyway, a few weeks ago, somebody on (i think) motherless chat sent me this video.  it's been kind of cool to listen to, because it's kind of relaxing and all that.  i think the dude was trying to make a "stray"/"puppygirl" pun, because he was kind of all "did you catch that?"  yes, dude.  i caught that.  you're like 20% clever.

so, kind of a creeper, but pretty decent taste in relaxing music.





in any case...i'm concerned i need to go back to the therapist again.  there's a lot of brain stuff i can't really cope with most days.  kind of a constant drum of "no one will ever really love you, so if that's not happening, why bother dealing with 50 years of loneliness?"  thanks, brain.  i feed you yummy pizza, and you're all "let's be a dick to sammy, just for funsies."

so, you know.  hey.  i don't want to spawn a lot of "we love you, sammy," comments.  i know you're all cool like that.  and i know this is just how things sometimes go.  it's all hard sometimes, for everbody.  it's just...today was hard.  this week has been hard.  this month?  guess what?  hard.

sigh.

so i'll dry my eyes now, i guess.  tomorrow is a new day.  we'll see how it goes.

saying stuff

so today i went to go see frozen again.  it's still totally wonderful, and you should still go see it.  again.  this was time number two, plus maybe another one if you count all the downloaded stuff.

and yesterday, i did go see "the wind rises," which isn't as good, i think, but is so beautiful and wonderful, and sad there towards the end, but it ends kind of, more even so sadly?

it's good, though, so maybe go try to see it. it's good, and if you don't like it, email me your address, and how much you paid, and i'll send you that money back by mail.  really.  just go try it, and see if you don't love the love, and the ambition, and the everything.

but, if you haven't, go see frozen first.  because elsa is totally cute.

like

she's now how cute is defined. sorry.  Deal with it.

movies?

i was going to go see the new miyazaki movie tomorrow, because he makes cool cartoons, right?  and it's finally opening at my local theater.

but then i saw that they're still showing frozen, and that movie was so super cool.

i kind of want to see that too, and do a double cartoon movie day of it all.

this has nothing to do with anything, it's just that sometimes i need to say stuff, and this is my best say stuff place, i guess.

i need to share

i just went out to my lanai to look at the stars and be all "girl who goes to look out at the city and stars instead of just going to sleep."

i'm pretty sure i just saw a girl in the building next door put on a sheet like a cape or some wings, or maybe she's a ghost now? and then fuck her husband/bf/random dude.

she had lots of dramatic swoops and swirls.

it probably looked cool, lying on the bed with her sitting up above you.

have a good night, cape or wings or ghost girl. have a good night.
:)

The Exhibition: Part 3

this was supposed to be the end.  it just kept going on though, so i decided to make another break, so now it's 4 parts.  i'm pretty sure that's the end though.  

i still don't know if that'll be the end-end.  maybe do more stories with the characters?  maybe just add part 5,6,99?  we'll see.

anyway, part 3:

i don't have time to read these tonight

but if figured i'd share, so if other people are interested.  again, i haven't read any of them (other than the first one), so i don't know if they're good yet.  they just looked interesting, and i started clicking them into new tabs, and now there are so many tabs open, and i need to get to bed soonish.  so if you read them, and really liked one or really hated one, let me know, and i'll read that one too.

it's like a book club.

• pets
• Life of Dog
• Volunteer Breeding
• K9
• Seeing Eye Dog
• Girl Hunt
• The Law Of A Strange Land
• CAGE.2
• the Collection Gallery
• Sex Education
• enema/scat
• Brainwashing Process
• Brainwashing Process 2
• Cute Toys
• Kichikuno Ori Gallery
• Haisetsu -Enema-
• real/manga combo, but also scat based?
• Hitoduma eros vol. 4 
• Hitoduma eros vol. 8
• hitoduma eros vol.5
• hitoduma eros vol.9
• Hitoduma eros vol. 2
• Hitoduma eros vol. 6
• momoyama jirou

The Exhibition: Part 2

so i wrote more.

random blargle

hopefully people liked that last story.  if you didn't, then too bad, because i think i have two sequels in my head.  it just kind of flows easily, unlike a lot of other stories i've tried to restart and finish, so that's how it goes.

while i was planning the next part, i remembered another writer, who kind of covers a lot of the same kind of themes, although not really in the same way i was going to do it.  in any case, this Blair Brek archive has a bunch (all?) of her stories so you can read them.

finally, i saw this news story today, about this lady in california who had a bunch of plastic surgery and is now doing hypnotherapy to be more like a bimbo.  which i guess fits in with the themes in a lot of those Blair Brek stories.  it's kind of a shame, because i really think she was prettier before the surgery.  anyway, it's kind of weird to see someone actually doing what i've read about in stories.

The Exhibition

i had today off, so i decided to turn the story idea i've been mulling for a few months into a proper thing.  all the concepts here are super cliche and all that, but it's the story i think about when i wake up early, but don't ahve to get out of bed, and so i can just stay in bed and cuddle up.

i also pulled thoughts from a few pixiv artists:
http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=41684341
http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=31147825

and cocoasoft videos:
http://www.talaat.net/index.php?route=product/product&path=80_82&product_id=88
http://www.talaat.net/index.php?route=product/product&path=72_84&product_id=184

so you know...that's where i stole things from.

let me know if you have any comments or thoughts.  i don't know if i'm going to do a sequel or not.  i have some more ideas, but maybe it's just better to let this stand on its own?

anyway, i put it below the cut

Hey! Let's be all crazy, right?

so i guess that last thing did work? i saw this "embed pixivs into stuff" code on a thing, and thought i'd try it.  i can see it, so i assume everyone else can?  or is it like secret hidden if you don't have a pixiv account that lets you see the r-18 stuff?  anyone out there want to comment and tell me?  mostly i feel bad posting pixiv stuff that don't tell you how to find the cool other stuff that artist made, so i want to fix that, and this fixes that, right?

second thing:

as i was driving home from work tonight, i hit on this great idea: valentine's day sucks, but i love this frozen movie because omg it's great, so maybe i should spend valentine's day going to the sing-a-long version of it, and just belt out my love for that song i posted, because it's been in my head since i saw the movie, and the cold never bothered me anyway.

but, i guess it's not going to be in my favorite theater, or, maybe like any theater here on valentines?

so should i go to one this weekend, and make a fool of myself stomping and gesturing during that one song, and then on valentines do my standard "eat chocolate and steaks and potatoes and wish i had a lover to hug my crazy out"?

and yes

i totally am hoping i'll go to the sing a long, sing a long, and have some cute girl come up after and kiss my forehead and say "you can be my elsa anyday you dumb poopyface".  shut up, i get to have whatever fantasy i want on my blog, and you can go fuck yourself if you disagree.  ya jerk.

:-P
\

also

you know what?

I just did tags

I'm not sorry at all.  nope.  no sorry available.  sorry for that (not sorry, there is no sorry here).  I'm all grown up.  And watching disney movies.  so.  shut up.  and fuck you. :-P